My party moved due south into the Aru Tso
mountains, and then turned eastwards into a broad
grassy valley. The previous year I had here seen
many herds of yak, though mainly cows and calves ;
at this season, however, not one of these beasts was to
be seen, though kiang and antelope were plentiful.
I shot two of the latter—both carrying handsome
horns of 25 inches. We camped on the hillside
amidst wild and desolate scenery, finding plenty of
grass, water and yak-dung fuel.
To the east of the camp was a pass of great altitude,
which we were to cross the next day, and in order to
get to the top before the midday thaw set in, it was
necessary to rise as soon as it began to get light, and
to strike camp and pack our loads with 20 degrees
of frost—an unenviable experience. A long pull of
eight miles brought us to the summit, which was
found to be 18,550 feet above sea-level. We had
brought with us two good aneroids, each registering
up to 24,000 feet, and up to this time they had
worked well; on this pass, however, they behaved in
the most erratic manner, jumping to 21,500 feet and
22,000 feet respectively. They partially righted
themselves before our arrival in camp at the end of
the day, but it was many months before they worked
accurately again, and when the theodolite was not
available we had to rely upon the hypsometer or
boiling-point thermometer for all altitudes.
For two marches we pushed on in a south-easterly
direction, crossing a great plain, and passing herds of
yaks and antelope on the way. In almost every ravine
at least one old bull yak was to be seen grazing on the
short grass growing by the streams. Many carried
splendid horns, but although I was desirous of
obtaining a really good head, it was out of the
question, for at this stage of our journey it would have
been madness to have burdened the ponies with massive
horns. Their shaggy coal-black bodies stood out distinctly
against the light - coloured soil and rendered
them conspicuous objects many miles away. As is
usually the case when least wanted, many were in
positions where an easy stalk was possible. One beauty
might have been shot on the second day within a few
hundred yards of the camp, for while the men were
pitching the tents he was discovered, peacefully dozing
away the afternoon, in a ravine close by.
In the afternoon one of our three remaining fowls
laid an egg; it was neither oval, round, nor of any
known form, nevertheless it was an egg, and the arrival
was announced by many self-satisfied duckings. A
search disclosed the precious object reposing on my one
clean woollen sh irt!
On the morning of June 26th we awoke to find
about four inches of snow on the ground and a cloud
of flakes falling steadily, driven before a northerly gale.
Anything was better than staying in our present
position, so packing up we made our way in a southeasterly
direction; within an hour the snow ceased
and the clouds rolled away as if by magic, leaving a
brilliantly clear sky.
We were now in a totally unknown country, but
from a study of Deasy’s map I felt pretty confident
that we must be near a lake called Shemen Tso.
Turning sharp to the south, we came suddenly upon it.
The lake is about 100 square miles in area, the shores
very irregular in outline, with rocky ridges projecting
from the eastern and western sides for many miles.
The water was intensely salt, so the caravan worked
along the northern shore in the hope of finding a fresh
spring, but it was not until late in the afternoon that