Across the Steppes.
On November 6th, 1900, we took our way to the south-east, and marched
up and down several rolling hills, till after walking more than
twenty miles we reached the foot of a great snow-covered peak and
lodged there. On the 7th we again climbed up and down the spurs of
the Himālayas for a distance of over five miles, and arrived at the
Chaksam Tsangbo (river of the iron bridge). It was no fine suspension
bridge, but an iron rope, fastened to the rocks on either side, by
which travellers crossed the river hand over hand, and which gave the
river its name. For I heard that there is in the vicinity of Lhasa
another iron bridge, which consists of two iron chains, by means of
which one can very comfortably pass over the river. The bridge over
the Chaksam does not now exist; but the name of the river of the iron
bridge seems to have been derived from the fact that it was crossed
by one of these iron ropes, though which kind it was is more than I
can say. The river had a tremendously rapid current, thickly strewn
with blocks of ice; but I easily crossed it on my horse. Then we had
to travel through a plain between the hills, which were generally bare
and devoid of vegetation except when there was a swamp where grasses
were seen growing. The scene was exceedingly dismal, and there was
nothing to relieve the eye. We went on for some four miles, and came
to a rivulet, and at the end of another four miles arrived at a castle
called Sakka Zong. We lodged beside a swamp on the west of the castle,
which stands upon the summit of a hill. The style of its architecture
differs not much from that of a temple, though it presents a certain
martial aspect. There were no regular troops stationed there. When
needed the people in that vicinity, some two hundred in number, take
up arms. I was told that the year before last a tribe on the northern
plain had made an attack on this locality, with the result that the
latter lost twenty or thirty men and about two thousand yaks. The
trouble was still pending as a subject of litigation. Thus the castle
seems to be a fortification against the attacks of roaming tribes,
though it also has a revenue office in it. That day we travelled some
fifteen miles, and the evening was spent in my lecture on grammar, as
were many succeeding evenings.
The following day, after we had travelled eight miles, we passed the
southern fort, on a snow-clad mountain called Chomo-Lhari. Then we
travelled five miles more in a south-easterly direction, and encamped
for the night. Nothing occurred worthy of mention.
On the 9th we travelled for seventeen miles along the same lonely
mountain-pass leading to the south-east, and reached a valley in which
we observed an exceedingly large animal ahead of us. This strange beast
resembled a yak, though there was no doubt that it was not an ordinary
yak. On asking its name, I was informed that it was what the Tibetans
called a dongyak (wild yak). Its size was twice or three times that of
the domesticated animal, and it stood about seven feet high. It was
smaller than the elephant, but its eyes looked dangerous. Its horns
measured twenty-five inches in circumference and five feet in length.
These measurements were taken afterwards at Lhasa, where I saw the
horns of a wild yak. It is described as graminivorous; when it becomes
angry it will attack men or animals with its horns, often inflicting
fatal injuries. Its tongue is extremely rough and anything licked by
the animal would be torn to pieces. Once I saw the dried and very large
tongue of a young dongyak, which was being used as a brush for horses.
[Illustration: MEETING A FURIOUS WILD YAK.]
An honest fellow in the party asked me to prophesy, by my art of
divination, whether that night was to be passed in safety or not. I
thought he was afraid of the dongyak, but the truth was not so. He
pointed to a place a little below the slope, and said that in the
preceding year six merchants had been killed by robbers there. He was
therefore going to keep watch that night, and wished to know whether
robbers were coming. In order to pacify him, I said that nothing of the
kind was going to take place that night. But the features of the place
were anything but agreeable, as may be guessed from the fact that the
dongyak was quite at home there. The night was, however, spent without
any accident. The following day we travelled over the steppes for a
distance of fifteen miles, and again lodged near a swamp; we always
preferred swampy places for lodging, on account of the abundant grass.
On the 11th we travelled again for fifteen miles, and on the 12th
crossed a steep pass called Kur La, seven miles in length, and walked
seventeen miles eastwards, lodging again beside a swamp. It was about
that time that a change for the better came over the relations between
the pedantic monk and myself. Proud as he was, he seems to have thought
that hostility could not be maintained without serious loss to himself,
as the majority of the party had come to entertain a sincere love for
and confidence in me. He approached me with a kindly face, which could
not be repelled; whatever his motives may have been, it would have been
very ill-advised for me to quarrel with him, so I reciprocated his
kindness, with the result that our relations became perfectly smooth,
and I was glad to get rid of the fear that he might inform the Tibetan
authorities of his suspicions about me.
The following day, November 13th, we passed over two long slopes, and
the night was spent at the foot of a steep and rugged mountain. On the
morrow we proceeded about seven and a half miles in a south-easterly
direction, along a river flowing between rocks. A gentle slope of about
twelve miles was then accomplished, and the night was spent on the bank
of the river. On the 15th we proceeded further to the south-east along
the river-side route. When five miles were covered, we came out upon a
plain, which we crossed in an easterly direction. A journey of about
seven and a half miles over the plain brought us to a post-town called
Gyato Tazam, where I found a far greater number of stone buildings than
at any other post-town I had visited _en route_. I was informed that
the inhabitants of the town numbered about four hundred, representing
sixty families. The people differed much from the nomadic population
found in the Jangthang which we had visited before, something of
urbanity being visible in their manners. While the nomads are so rude
and vulgar that, whenever they speak, they speak bluntly, without any
regard to the persons addressed, the inhabitants of Gyato Tazam have a
more refined tone in their language, though it is of course modified by
the local dialect. After making some purchases in the town, we resumed
our journey. Wending our way about five miles into a mountain region,
we reached the bank of a stream, where we decided to pass the night.
Being the middle of November it was pretty cold, but fortunately my
companions proved themselves so obliging that, on our arrival there,
they went to the trouble of gathering a great mass of yak-dung, which
was burnt within the tent throughout the night. As I gave them lectures
on Tibetan grammar, the head priest of the party and a junior Lama were
very hospitable towards me and provided me with bedding, so that I felt
no cold at all. The following day, after proceeding a little less than
fifteen miles over two long steep slopes, we found ourselves on the
edge of a plain. We went about four miles further, and found in the
centre of the plain a temple standing upon two large pillar-like rocks,
which stood together and towered high into the sky. As these rocks
alone are 360 yards high, the entire height may well be imagined. The
temple is called the Sesum Gompa, and belongs to one of the old schools
of Lamaism. Passing under the temple, we proceeded further and reached
a marsh lying to the east, where we stopped for the night.
The following day we made a journey of about twenty miles through a
mountain district situated to the south-east, at the end of which
journey we found ourselves at a post-town called Sang Sang Tazam. We
did not take lodging in the town, but encamped upon a plain in the
eastern suburb, where we made as big a fire as we could, and yet felt
pretty cold, especially late at night. We awoke in the morning to find
ourselves completely frost-bound; indeed I wondered, at first sight,
if it had not snowed during the night. Thereupon I produced a short
_uta_, which may be rendered into English thus:
How beautiful
It is to see grass dead, but blooming yet
With frost, upon a high plateau.