Night marching--The Lafan and Mafan Lakes--Tize, the sacred
Kelas--Rhubarb--Butterflies--A hermit Lama--More
Dacoits--Surrounded by them--Routed.
DURING our night marches, up and down mountain ranges of considerable
height, we naturally had adventures and escapes far too numerous to
relate here in exact detail, and I shall not give a full description of
each march on account of the unavoidable monotony of such a narrative. In
constant storms of grit and snow we crossed range after range, travelling
during the night and hiding by day, camping at very great altitudes and
undergoing considerable privations. I steered my men towards the
Rakstal[21] Lake, and one day, having risen to 17,550 feet, we obtained a
magnificent view of the two great sheets of water, the Lafan-cho and
Mafan-cho, or Rakstal and Mansarowar Lakes, by which latter names they
are more commonly known to non-Tibetans.
To the N. of the lakes stood the magnificent Tize, the sacred Kelas
mountain, overtopping by some two thousand feet all the other snowy peaks
of the Gangri chain, which extended roughly from N.W. to S.E. From this
spot we could see more distinctly than from Lama Chokden the band round
the base of the mountain, which, according to legend, was formed by the
rope of the Rakas (devil) trying to tear down this throne of the gods.
Tize, the great sacred peak, is of fascinating interest, owing to its
peculiar shape. It resembles, as I have said, the giant roof of a temple,
but to my mind it lacks the gracefulness of sweeping curves such as are
found in Fujiama of Japan, the Most artistically beautiful mountain I
have ever seen. Tize is angular, uncomfortably angular, if I may be
allowed the expression, and although its height, the vivid colour of its
base, and the masses of snow that cover its slopes, give it a peculiar
attraction, it nevertheless struck me as being intensely unpicturesque,
at least from the point from which I saw it, and from which the whole of
it was visible. When clouds were round it, toning down and modifying its
shape, Tize appeared at its best from the painter's point of view. Under
these conditions, I have thought it very beautiful, especially at
sunrise, with one side tinted red and yellow, and its rocky mass standing
majestic against a background of shiny gold. With my telescope I could
plainly distinguish, especially on the E. side, the defile along which
the worshippers make the circuit at the base of the mountain, though I
was told that some pilgrims actually march round it on the snowy ledge
directly over the base, and just above the darker band of rock described
before. On the S.W. side can be seen, on the top of a lower peak, a
gigantic Obo.
[Illustration: OUR FIRST VIEW OF RAKASTAL]
The peregrination round Tize usually takes three days, though some
accomplish it in two days, and under favourable circumstances it has even
been done in one day. It is usual for the pilgrims to say certain prayers
and make sacrifices as they proceed, and the more fanatical perform the
journey serpentwise, lying flat on the ground; others, again, do it on
their hands and knees, and others walking backwards.
Tize, or Kelas, has an elevation of 21,830 feet, and Nandiphu, W. of it,
19,440 feet, while N.W. of the sacred mountain are visible other summits
20,460 feet, 19,970 feet, and 20,280 feet. Animal life seemed to abound,
for while I was sketching the panorama before me, a snow leopard bounded
gracefully past us. I had a shot or two at _thar_, and we saw any number
of _kiang_. We found rhubarb, which seemed to be thriving, at so high an
elevation as 17,000 feet, and quantities of yellow flowers in the same
locality and at the same elevation; and at 19,000 feet I netted two
couples of small white and black butterflies. They seemed to have great
difficulty in flying, and hardly rose more than two or three inches off
the ground, flapping their wings irregularly; they seldom flew more than
a few feet, and then remained motionless for long periods before they
attempted to fly again. I had come across the same kind of butterfly at
lower altitudes, 18,600 feet and 17,000 feet, and I invariably found them
in couples.
On nearing the lakes, the atmosphere seemed saturated with moisture, for
no sooner had the sun gone down than there was a heavy dew, which soaked
our blankets and clothes. We were at 16,550 feet in a narrow marshy creek
in which we had descended _à pic_ from the last mountain range. From the
summit of the range we had seen many columns of smoke rising from the
neighbourhood of the Rakas Lake, and we judged that again we must proceed
with great caution.
We cooked our food, and in the middle of the night, for greater safety,
we shifted our camp on the summit of the plateau in a North-Easterly
direction, and continued our journey in the morning, high above the
magnificent blue sheet of the Devil's Lake with its pretty islands.
"Sahib, do you see that island?" exclaimed the Kutial, pointing at a
barren rock that emerged from the lake. "On it," he continued, "lives a
hermit Lama, a saintly man. He has been there alone for many years, and
he is held in great veneration by the Tibetans. He exists almost entirely
on fish, and occasional swan's eggs, and only in winter, when the lake is
frozen, is communication established with the shore, and supplies of
_tsamba_ are brought to him, for they have no boats in Rakastal, nor any
way of constructing rafts, owing to the absence of wood. The hermit
sleeps in a cave, but generally comes out in the open to pray to Buddha."
During the following night, when everything was still, a slight breeze
blowing from the North brought to us, faint and indistinct, the broken
howls of the hermit.
"What is that?" I asked of the Shokas.
"It is the hermit speaking to God. Every night he climbs to the summit of
the rock, and from there addresses his prayers to Buddha the Great."
"How is he clothed?" I inquired.
"In skins."
[Illustration: RAKASTAL AND ... MANSAROWAR LAKES]
Late in the afternoon we had an amusing incident. We came to a creek in
which were a number of men and women, hundreds of yaks and sheep, and
some thirty ponies.
The Shokas became alarmed, and immediately pronounced the folks to be
brigands. I maintained that they were not, and as Kachi expounded the
theory that the only way to distinguish Dakus from honest beings was to
hear them talk (the Dakus he declared usually shout at the top of their
voices when conversing, and use language far from select, while
well-to-do Tibetans speak gently and with refinement), I thought the
only thing to do was to go and address the people, when by the tone of
voice we should find out what they were. This, however, did not suit my
Shokas, and we were placed in rather a curious position, for to proceed
we must either pass by the Tibetan encampment, or we must march
southwards round a mountain, which would involve considerable trouble,
fatigue, and waste of time. We waited till night came, watching, unseen,
the Tibetans below us. As is customary with them, they retired at sundown
to their tents. Leaving my men behind, I crawled into their camp during
the night and peeped into one of the tents. The men were squatting on the
ground, round a fire in the centre, upon which steamed two vessels with
stewing tea. One old man, with strongly-marked Mongolian features,
accentuated by the heavy shadows which were cast by the light of the fire
above his angular cheek-bones and prominent and wrinkled brow, was
busily revolving his prayer-wheel from left to right, repeating in a
mechanical way the usual _Omne mani padme hun_, words which come from the
Sanscrit, and refer to the reincarnation of Buddha from a lotus flower,
meaning literally, "O God, the gem emerging from a lotus flower." Two or
three other men, whose faces I could not well see, as they were stooping
very low, were busy counting money and examining several articles of
Indian manufacture, which undoubtedly had been seized from Shokas. It was
fortunate that they had no dogs in this camp, for I, having discovered
our best way to pass them unperceived, went back to my men and led them,
in the middle of the night, through the camp itself. We proceeded for a
mile or so beyond the encampment, and having selected a well-sheltered
spot where we could rest without fear of discovery, we laid down our
loads and tried to get a few hours' sleep. Waking at sunrise we were
startled to find ourselves surrounded by a band of dacoits. They were our
friends of the previous night, who, having followed our tracks, and
mistaking us for Shoka traders, had now come for a little festive
looting. On drawing near they were given a somewhat warm reception, and
their instant retreat was more speedy than dignified.
[21] _Rakastal_--Devil's Lake, also very frequently pronounced Rakstal.