S.E. wind--Hungry and half frozen--Lakes at 18,960 feet above
sea-level--Cold food at high altitudes--Buried in snow--Mansing's
sufferings--Fuel at last.
AT 1 P.M. we woke up, drenched to the skin, the sun having thawed the
thick coating of snow over us. This camp was at 18,000 feet. The wind
from the S.E. cut like a knife, and we suffered from it, not only on this
occasion, but every day during the whole time we were in Tibet. It begins
to blow with great fierceness and regularity at one o'clock in the
afternoon, and it is only at about eight in the evening that it sometimes
abates and gradually ceases. Frequently, however, the wind, instead of
dropping at this time, increases in violence, blowing with terrible
vehemence during the whole night. As we were making ready to start again,
with limbs cramped and stiff, the sky once more became suddenly covered
with heavy grey clouds, and fresh snow fell. There was no possibility of
making a fire, so we started hungry and half-frozen, following a course
of 70° (b.m.). We waded up to our waists through a freezingly cold
stream, and climbing steadily higher and higher for six miles, we at last
reached another and loftier plateau to the N.E. of the one where we had
camped in the morning. The altitude was 18,960 feet, and we were
surprised to find four lakes of considerable size close to one another on
this high tableland. The sun, breaking for a moment through the clouds,
shone on the snow-covered tops of the surrounding mountains, silvering
the water of the lakes, and making a beautiful and spectacular picture,
wild and fascinating in effect.
Hunger and exhaustion prevented full appreciation of the scene; nothing
could stand in the way of quickly finding a suitable place to rest our
weak and jaded bodies, under the shelter of the higher hills round the
plateau, or in some depression in the ground. I was anxious to push
across the plateau, and descend on the N.E. side to some lower altitude
where we should more probably find fuel, but my men, half-starved and
fagged, could go no farther. Their wet loads were considerably heavier
than usual, they panted terribly owing to the great altitude, and no
sooner had we come to a partially sheltered spot between the larger lake
and its most eastern neighbouring sheet of water, than they all collapsed
and were unable to proceed. I was much concerned about them, as they
refused to take any cold food, saying it would cause their death. I was
really at a loss to see how they could recover sufficient strength for
the next day's marching. Eventually, by personally pledging them that
they would not die, I persuaded them to eat a little _sato_ and _ghur_.
Unfortunately, no sooner had they eaten some of it mixed with cold water,
than nearly all were seized with violent pains in their stomachs, from
which they suffered for the greater part of the night.
There is no doubt that experience had taught them that eating cold food
at great altitudes is more dangerous than eating no food at all, and I
regretted my ill-timed, if kindly meant advice. One is apt to judge other
people by oneself, and personally I never felt any difference, whether my
food was cold or hot.
[Illustration: BURIED IN SNOW]
Soon after sunset the cold was intense. It was still snowing hard, and
our wet garments and blankets were now freezing. I lighted a small spirit
lamp, round which we all sat close together, and covered over with our
frozen wraps. I even attempted to cook on the flame some concentrated
broth, but, owing to the high altitude, the water was a long time losing
its chill, apart from boiling, and when it was just getting tepid the
flame went out, and I could afford no more spirits of wine to light it
again: so the cooking had to be abandoned, and as the night grew colder
and colder, we huddled together under our respective blankets in a vain
attempt to sleep. We had made a protecting wall with our baggage, and my
men covered their heads and everything with their blankets; but I never
could adopt their style of sleeping, as it seemed to suffocate me. I
always slept with my head uncovered, for not only was it more
comfortable, but I wished to be on the alert should we at any time be
surprised by Tibetans. My men moaned, groaned, and chattered their teeth
convulsively during the night. I woke many times with a bad pain in my
ears from frostbite; my eyes, too, suffered as the eyelashes became
covered with icicles. Every time I tried to open them there was an
uncomfortable feeling as if the eyelashes were being torn off, for the
slit of the eye became fast frozen directly the lids were closed.
At last the morning came! The night had seemed endless. When I tried to
raise the blanket in order to sit up, it seemed of an extraordinary
weight and stiffness. No wonder! It was frozen hard, and as rigid as
cardboard, covered over with a foot of snow. The thermometer during the
night had gone down to 24°. I called my men. They were hard to wake, and
they, too, were buried in snow.
"_Uta, uta, uta!_" ("Get up, get up, get up!") I called, shaking one by
one, and brushing off as much snow as I could.
"_Baroff bahut!_" ("There is much snow!") remarked one as he put his nose
outside his blanket, and rubbed his eyes, smarting from the white glare
around us. "Salaam, sahib," added he, as, having overcome his first
surprise, he perceived me, and he waved his hand gracefully up to his
forehead.
The others behaved in a similar manner. Kachi was, as usual, the last one
to wake.
"O, Kachi," I shouted, "get up!"
"_O, bahiyoh!_" ("O, father!") yawned he, stretching his arms. Half
asleep, half awake, he looked round as if in a trance, muttering
incoherent words.
"Good morning, sir. Oh, much snow. Oh look, sir, two kiangs there! What
is 'kiang' in English?"
"Wild horse."
"'Wild' you spell w-i-l-d?"
"Yes."
Here the note-book was produced from under his pillow, and the word
registered in it.
Odd creatures these Shokas! The average European, half-starved and
frozen, would hardly give much thought to exact spelling.
Poor Mansing the leper suffered terribly. He groaned through the whole
night. I had given him one of my wrappers, but his circulation seemed
suspended. His face was grey and cadaverous, with deep lines drawn by
suffering, and his feet were so frozen that for some time he could not
stand.
Again the Shokas would eat nothing, for snow was still falling. We
started towards the N.E. After a mile of flat we began a steep descent
over unpleasant loose _débris_ and sharp rocks. The progress was rapid,
but very painful. Scouring the country below with my telescope, I
perceived shrubs and lichens far down in the valley to the N.E. and also
a tent and some sheep. This was unfortunate, for we had to alter our
course in order not to be seen. We again climbed up to the top of the
plateau and rounded unperceived the mountain summit, striking a more
Easterly route. Towards sunset we began our descent from the latter
point, and we crossed the river with no great difficulty. Having selected
a nicely sheltered depression in the ground, we pitched my little _tente
d'abri_ there, by the side of a pond of melted snow. With natural
eagerness, we all set out collecting lichens and shrubs for our fires,
and each man carried into camp several loads of the drier fuel. In a
moment there were three big fires blazing, and not only were we able to
cook a specially abundant dinner and drown our past troubles in a
bucketful of boiling tea, but we also managed to dry our clothes and
blankets. The relief of this warmth was wonderful, and in our comparative
happiness we forgot the hardships and sufferings we had so far
encountered. With the exception of a handful of _sato_, this was the
first solid meal we had had for forty-eight hours. In those two days we
had travelled twenty miles, each of us carrying a weight averaging
considerably over sixty pounds.
We were at 16,500 feet, which seemed quite a low elevation after our
colder and loftier camping-grounds. The reaction was quite pleasant, and
for myself I contemplated our future plans and possibilities with better
hope. The outlook had changed from our deepest depression to a condition
of comparative cheerfulness and content.