altitude, and exceedingly steep. When once the winter
snows had started, it was said to be impassable for man
or beast.
Another pass to the south of Gartok, the Ayi La,
was also estimated to be 19,000 feet high, and it was on
account of these two passes that we had been pushing
on so rapidly, for it was absolutely necessary that both
should be crossed before the winter snows set in in
earnest. To our minds, the Jerka La was the more
important, for we had to reach Gartok somehow or
other, or else spend the winter in Tibet. Had the Ayi
La been closed it would not have mattered quite so
much, for we could eventually have made our way
down the Indus to Leh, and then to India by Ladak.
This latter route, however, would have taken
another six weeks or so, and it would have been
necessary to abandon the greater part of the heavy
baggage till the following summei\
The more intelligent-looking traders and shepherds
passed on the road were questioned as to the state of
these passes, and, as is to be expected in Tibet, with
varying results. The general consensus of opinion was
to the effect that the Ayi La was steep, difficult, and
probably impassable, but that no great difficulty would
be experienced in surmounting the Jerka La. As a
matter of fact, the latter pass offered no impediment to
our passage, as the ascent was easy, and the summit,
not much over 15,000 feet in height.
They called the place Par-chu where we pitched the
camp, but this name is equally applicable to any of the
other small ravines which cut up the country. So
much of a muchness are all these places, that a mistake
can be easily made when giving instructions, as
happened in our case, for the man who went on ahead
passed the intended spot, and pitched the small Tibetan
tent almost on the summit of the pass. Fortunately
there was but little wind and so no one suffered much
discomfort from the cold during the night, but the
mistake gave the yak-drivers much extra work, for
they had to go a considerable distance before sufficient
fuel could be collected for the camp fires. The question
of fuel is no small matter when a caravan is composed
of such a medley of races as ours was, for the
Mahomedans, Hindus, Gurkhas, Tibetans and British
all required separate cooking-places, and so it was also
with the yak-drivers, Tibetan officials, and the various
hangers-on; in consequence, there were seldom less
than eight or nine fires burning at the same time.
We had now entered the region drained by the
Indus, the greatest of all Indian rivers, though the
trickling streams, continually crossed, were not such as
would lead one to believe that it could grow to the
immense size it attains a hundred miles farther on.
Formerly the main river was supposed to originate
from these small streams, but the Pundit Nain Singh
proved, about fifty years ago, that they form but a large
tributary which joins the main branch a few miles
below Gartok. The Pundit was only able to follow up
the latter for a few miles, so the actual whereabouts of
the source of the Indus is still unknown, though the
natives assert that it rises from the northern slopes of
Kailas Parbat.
Just before reaching Nik-yu, a clear view was
obtained of the whole of Gartok Plain, an apparently
desolate, flat, and barren region, hemmed in on the
north and south by great bare, rocky ranges. In the
fading light, the official capital of Western Tibet could
be dimly seen, lying seven miles away on the banks of
the Indus, which, winding in and out, meandered
through the southern half of the plain.