The morning broke fine and bright, and our hopes
of getting off on the succeeding day rose with the sun.
Yaks of a starved and ragged appearance began to come
in early, continuing to arrive in small herds for the
rest of the day, until by nightfall they had gathered to
the number of seventy. With the ponies we were less
fortunate, as only ten fresh ones put in an appearance,
and these in such a wretched condition as to give but
little hope of their doing much work.
Further delay followed, as the men asked for a day
to collect provisions for themselves and their ponies
and to get their animals shod; this seemed such
a reasonable request that we could not very well
refuse.
Our last day in civilisation was spent in testing the
rifles and ammunition. In the afternoon we were visited
by a herd of kiang, the wild ass of Tibet; this particular
herd had evidently seen much of man and
knew his evil ways—for, though curious as to the
nature of our unusual assemblage, they soon left.
The scene from the camp at twilight was strikingly
beautiful. In the distance rose the snow-covered
mountains of the Pangong, their tops flushed by the
last rays of the setting su n ; a few small clouds of
varied and brilliant hue floated in a sky otherwise
intensely clear; in the foreground were the ponies,
picketed in rows, and herds of yak and sheep, while
here and there thin columns of blue smoke straggled
upwards from the fires around which the men were
having their evening meal. The stillness was unbroken
save for the gurgling of the rushing river and
the tinkling of the animals’ bells.
CHAPTER V
LEAVING CIVILISATION
On the 3rd of June we left Phobrang behind, and with
it the last signs of civilisation.
Our party now consisted of our own twenty men
and forty-three ponies, together with sixty hired
yaks, fifteen ponies, thirty sheep and about twenty-five
drivers. The people of Phobrang, moreover, lent us a
big, savage-looking dog, which accompanied us throughout
the expedition. Though continually coaxed and
fed, he never once gave us a gentle glance or a wag
of his ta il; he waxed immensely fat, and consequently
proved quite useless as a watch-dog. His main delight
lay in sleeping in the full blast of the bitter wind with
the snow beating against his shaggy body.
We camped that night at Chorkangma (16,950 feet),
and, as may be imagined, the cold was intense. The
appearance of the country underwent a further change :
in the Sind Valley we had found great, rugged, timber-
covered ranges; from the Zoji La to Tankse, the wild,
barren mountains of Baltistan and Ladak; and now we
were among bleak, desolate hills of moving shale, the
great height of the hills being dwarfed by the altitude
of the valleys.
In front was the Marsi-mik La, a pass 18,400 feet
above sea-level, covered with snow for nine months
in the year, but with easy gradients on either side.
We started next morning on the ascent, and for the