A NARROW ESCAPE
From Kuti I had sent a sturdy Shoka named Nattoo to find out whether it
was possible to cross the Himahlyan chain over the high Mangshan Pass.
In case of a favorable report, I should be able to get several marches
into Tibet without fear of being detected. I reckoned on turning the
position occupied by the force of soldiers which I was informed the Jong
Pen of Taklakot had gathered on the Lippu Pass in order to prevent my
entering his country. Before the Tibetans could have time to find where
I was, I should be too far into the forbidden land for them to catch me
up. Nattoo duly returned. He had been half-way up the mountain. The snow
was deep, and there were huge and treacherous cracks in the ice. An
avalanche had fallen, and it was merely by a miracle that he had escaped
with his life. He had turned back without reaching the summit of the
pass. He was scared and worn out, and declared it was impossible for us
to proceed that way. The thrilling account of the Kutial's misfortunes
discouraged my men. What with the intense cold, the fatigue of carrying
heavy loads at high elevations over such rough country, and the dreaded
icy-cold rivers which they had crossed so often, my carriers became
absolutely demoralized at the thought of new hardships ahead. I did not
believe Nattoo. I determined to go and see for myself.
It was half-past four in the afternoon, and therefore some little time
before sunset. There should be moonlight. I had on that day marched
eight miles. It must be remembered that at high elevations the effort of
walking eight miles would be as great as to walk twice as far at lower
altitudes. Though my feet were wounded and sore, I was not tired. Our
camp was at a height of 16,150 feet, an elevation higher than the
highest mountain in Europe. Doctor Wilson insisted on accompanying me on
my reconnoitring trip. Kachi Ram and a Rongba coolie also volunteered to
come. Bijesing, the Johari, after some persuasion, got on his feet to
accompany our little exploration party. Chanden Sing was left in charge
of the camp, with strict orders to punish severely any one who might
attempt to escape during my absence.
We set out, following up-stream the course of the Mangshan River boxed
in between high cliffs which finally met at the glacier at the foot of
the Mangshan Mountain, about three miles east-south-east of our camp. It
was very hard to walk over the large, slippery stones, where one's feet
constantly slipped and were jammed between rocks, straining and hurting
the ankles. Since I did not trust my demoralized followers, who seemed
on the verge of mutiny, I did not care to leave behind in camp the heavy
load of silver rupees (R. 800) sewn in my coat. I always carried that
sum on my person, as well as my rifle, two compasses (a prismatic and a
luminous), two aneroids, one half-chronometer and another watch, and
some thirty rifle cartridges. The combined weight of these articles was
considerable, and on this particular afternoon it was almost too much
for my strength. We travelled up and down the series of hillocks, and in
and out of the innumerable channels that centuries of melting snow and
ice had cut deep into the mass of loose stones. At the point where the
two ranges met there stood before us the magnificent pale-green
ice-terraces of the Mangshan glacier, surmounted by great snow-fields
rising to the summit of the mountain range. Clouds enveloped the higher
peaks. The clear ice showed vertical streaks, especially in the lower
strata, where it was granulated. The base, the sides, and top of the
exposed section were covered with a thick coat of snow. The Mangshan
River rose from this glacier.
We left the glacier (17,800 feet above sea-level), to the right, and,
turning sharply northward, began our ascent toward the pass. The snow we
struggled over was so soft and deep that we sank into it up to our
waists. Occasionally there was a change from snow to patches of loose
debris and rotten rock. The fatigue of walking on such a surface was
simply overpowering. Having climbed up half a dozen steps among the
loose, cutting stones, we would slide back almost to our original point
of departure, followed by a small avalanche of shifting material that
only stopped when it got to the foot of the mountain.
At a height of 19,000 feet we walked for some time on soft snow, which
covered an ice-field with deep crevasses and cracks. We had to feel our
way with great caution, particularly as by the time we reached that spot
we had only the light of the moon to depend upon.
As we rose higher, I began to feel a curious exhaustion that I had never
experienced before. At sunset the thermometer which Kachi carried had
fallen 40 deg. within a few minutes, and the sudden change in the
temperature seemed to affect us all. We went on, with the exception of
Bijesing, who was seized with such violent mountain sickness that he was
unable to proceed. The doctor, too, a powerfully built man, was
suffering considerably. His legs, he said, had become like lead, and
each seemed to weigh a ton. The effort of lifting, or even moving, them
required all his energy. Although he was gasping pitifully for breath,
he struggled on bravely until we reached an elevation of 20,500 feet.
Here he was overcome with exhaustion and pain, and he was unable to go
further. Kachi Ram, the Rongba, and I went ahead, but we also were
suffering, Kachi complaining of violent beating in his temples and loud
buzzing in his ears. He gasped and staggered dangerously, threatening to
collapse at any moment. At 21,000 feet he fell flat on the snow. He was
instantly asleep, breathing heavily and snoring convulsively. His hands
and feet were icy cold. What caused me more anxiety than anything was
the irregular beating and throbbing of his heart. I wrapped him up in
his blanket and my waterproof, and, having seen to his general comfort,
I shouted to the doctor (the voice in the still air carrying for a long
distance) telling him what had happened. I pushed on with the Rongba,
who was now the only one of the party who had any strength left.
A thick mist suddenly enveloped us, which added much to our trials.
After we left Kachi at 21,000 feet we made desperate efforts to get on.
Our lungs seemed about to burst, and our hearts throbbed as if they
would beat themselves out of our bodies. Exhausted and weighed down by
irresistible drowsiness, the Rongba and I at last reached the summit.
Almost fainting with fatigue, I registered my observations. The altitude
was 22,000 feet, the hour 11 P.M. There was a strong, cutting
north-easterly wind. The cold was intense. I was unable to register the
exact temperature, as I had forgotten to take my thermometer out of
Kachi's pocket when he collapsed. The stars were wonderfully brilliant,
and when the mist cleared the moon shone brightly for a while over the
panorama around me. Though it was a view of utter desolation, it was
certainly strangely attractive. The amount of snow on the northern slope
of the range was greater than on the southern. I realized the
impossibility of taking my entire expedition over this high point. Below
me, to the south, were mountainous ranges buried in snow, and to the
south-west and north-east were peaks even higher than the one where I
stood. To the north stretched the immense, dreary Tibetan plateau with
undulations and intricate hill ranges, beyond which a high mountain
range with snow-peaks could just be perceived in the distance.
I had barely taken in this beautiful view of nature asleep when the mist
again rose before me, and I saw a huge ghost rising out of it. A tall,
dark figure stood in the centre of a luminous circle wrapped in an
enormous veil of mist. The effect was wonderful. It was only after some
moments that I realized that the ghost had my features, and that I stood
in the centre of a circular lunar rainbow, looking at an enlarged
reflection of myself in the mist. When I moved my arms, my body, or my
head the ghost-like figure moved also. I felt very much like a child
placed for the first time in front of a mirror, as I made the great
image move about and repeat any odd motion that I might make. On a later
occasion I saw a spectre, when the sun was up, with a circular rainbow
round it. The moonlight effect differed from this, in that the colors of
the rainbow were but faintly distinguishable.
The Rongba had fallen exhausted. I felt so faint with the unusual
pressure on my lungs that, despite all the efforts to resist it, I also
collapsed on the snow. The coolie and I, shivering pitifully, shared the
same blanket in order to keep warm. Both of us were seized with
irresistible sleepiness. I fought hard against it, for I well knew that
if my eyelids once closed they would almost certainly remain so forever.
The Rongba was fast asleep. I summoned my last atom of vitality to keep
my eyes open. The bitter wind hissed by us. How that hiss still echoes
in my ears! The Rongba crouched down, moaning through chattering teeth.
His sudden shudders showed that he was in great pain. It seemed only
common charity to let him have the entire blanket, which was in any case
too small for both. I wrapped it tightly round his head and his
doubled-up body. The exertion was too much for me. In absolute
exhaustion I fell back on the snow. I made a last desperate effort to
look at the glittering stars ... my sight became dim....
How long this semi-consciousness lasted I do not know. "This is
terrible! Doctor! Kachi!" I tried to speak. My voice seemed choked in my
throat. Was what I saw before me real? On the vast white sheet of snow
Kachi and the doctor lay motionless, like statues of ice, as if frozen
to death. In my nightmare I tried to raise them. They were rigid. I
knelt beside them, calling them, and striving with all my might to bring
them back to life. Half dazed, I turned to look for Bijesing, and, as I
did so, all sense of vitality seemed to freeze within me. I saw myself
enclosed in a quickly contracting tomb of transparent ice. I felt that
I, too, would shortly be frozen to death like my companions. My legs, my
arms, were already icy. Horror-stricken as I was at the approach of such
a ghastly death, I felt a languor and sleepiness far from unpleasant.
Should I let myself go, choosing rest and peace rather than effort, or
should I make a last struggle to save myself? The ice seemed to close in
more and more every moment. I was suffocating.
I tried to scream, to force myself through the ice, which seemed to
crush me. I gave a violent plunge. Then everything vanished ... the
frozen Kachi, the doctor, the transparent tomb....
I opened my eyes. They ached as if needles had been stuck into them. It
was snowing hard. I had temporarily lost the use of my legs and fingers.
They were almost frozen. In waking up from the ghastly nightmare, I
realized instantly that I must get down at once to a lower level. I was
already covered with a layer of snow. It was snowing hard when I woke,
and I suppose it was the cold snow on my forehead that caused my
nightmare. It is quite probable that, had it not been for the sudden
shudder which shook me free, I should never have awakened.
I sat up with difficulty, and slowly regained the use of my lower limbs
by rubbing and beating them. I roused the Rongba, rubbed him, and shook
him till he was able to move. We began our descent.
Undoubtedly the satisfaction of going up high mountains is great, but
can it ever be compared to the delight of coming down again?
The incline being extremely steep, we took long strides on the snow.
When we came to patches of debris we slid down at a great pace amid a
deafening roar from the huge mass of loose stones set in motion by our
descent. It was still snowing.
"Hark!" I said to the Rongba. "What is that?"
With hands up to our ears we listened attentively.
"_Ao, ao, ao! Jaldi ao! Tumka hatte?_" (Come, come, come! Come quickly!
Where are you?) cried a faint, distressed voice from far down below.
We quickened our pace. With hardly any control over our legs our descent
was precipitous. The snow-fall ceased, and we became enveloped in a
freezing thick mist which pierced into our very bones.
Guided by the anxious cries of the doctor, we continued our breakneck
journey downward. The cries became more and more distinct, and at last
we came face to face with Wilson, still helpless.
He had been uneasy about us, and during our long absence had quite given
us up for lost.
We looked for and found Kachi. He had slept like a top, curled up in his
warm blanket and my waterproof coat. He was now quite refreshed. All
together we continued our race downward with no serious mishaps. Life
and strength gradually came back to us when we descended to lower
heights.
Over the same trying stony valley we reached camp in the morning. The
anxiety of my men in camp was intense. They had lost all hope of seeing
us again.