CHAPTER XI I I
INTO A NEW LAND
N u l l a h s , with precipitous sides, divided the country
into strips of land, fortunately all running in the
direction we wished to go. Entering one of these, we
soon struck a path, and following this down for three or
four miles suddenly encountered a group of men waiting
to escort us into Dunkar. We had expected to find
this place similar to other villages passed during the
previous month, simply a group of mud huts, so were
considerably surprised to come upon a flourishing
village of substantially built houses and cultivated
fields.
To explain Dunkar, I must here describe the Sutlej
Valley on the Tibet side of the Himalayas. It is a
country the like of which I had never seen before. In
ancient times, and before the great Himalayas had been
pierced by this river, the whole country, from that
range to the present source of the Sutlej, was
covered by an inland sea many thousands of feet in
depth. Though of such an immense area, the lake
apparently quickly silted up, the débris of the surrounding
mountains being distributed in horizontal
layers over its entire extent. The silting-up process,
in comparison with other rock formations, must have
proceeded rapidly, for the sandstone and mud have
never undergone long and continual pressure, and
remains soft and crumbling to this day. It is probable
that, when this depression became nearly full of matter,
the waters overflowed through some small rift in the
Himalayas, and, with the great weight of the inland
sea behind it, the stream rapidly cut a channel through
the barrier until the whole bed of the lake was laid
bare. Since then, rain and snow have continued the
work, wearing away the softer lines in the strata, and
forming great clefts and chasms many hundreds of
feet in depth, to the bottoms of which the rays of the
sun never reach. Narrow precipitous ridges, spire-like
pinnacles and isolated plateaux rise on all sides. It
is a weird and wonderful sight, but also a depressing
one, for neither shrubs nor grass can grow, and a deathlike
silence reigns supreme. Now and again, in the
centre of the largest nullahs, a small crystal stream
may be seen trickling over its sandy bed, but during
the winter these are few and far between. The sandstone
rock crumbles to the touch and the mud turns to
powder on being disturbed, whilst the strata over the
whole valley lies perfectly horizontal, showing that
this district since its formation has never been subject
to earthquakes or upheavals. The illustration gives a
very fair idea of the land as seen from above, but from
below no picture can adequately depict the sense of
isolation of the traveller, as he views the towering cliffs
closing him in on every side.
The inhabitants of Dunkar had originally chosen
one of these precipitous ridges for their habitations,
probably on account of the great number of caves
which were there existent. The monastery, as being
their most precious possession, has been built on the
very summit and far out of harm’s way. Round
about it are scattered the few dwellings of the
monks, whilst lower down, on any promising ledge,
the villagers have erected their own homes, utilising