KAILASH-MANASAROVAR

ROMESH BATTACHARJI

THERE IS no place on earth like the Himalaya, for in them are found Kailash-Manasarovar. As the morning sun dries up the dew so are the sins of man dried at the sight of Kailash-Manasarovar. So runs one of the most moving passages in the Upanishads. The sage goes on to add 'Not in a hundred ages of the gods can I sing to thee of the glories of Himalaya'. He was obviously writing from personal experience.

For two decades this apex of the Hindu cosmos Kailash, the lotus of the world Pushkary the centre of the earth Meru, Kang Rimpoche, was closed to pilgrims from India and Nepal. 'This centre of Jambu (one of the seven island continents) is the glorious mountain of Meru, of various colours; on the east it is white; like a Brahman, on the south it is yellow like a Vaishya; on the north like a Shatriya, and on the west it is dark like a Shudra' Two years ago it was opened to the Nepalese and in September 1981 to the Indians. I jumped at the opportunity and got a place in the third group.

Ours was a Government-managed exercise complete with an Under Secretary from the Ministry of External Affairs who accompanied us on duty. We signed along the dotted line, paid up enough money to go on four such trips, and we were off in a luxury bus. The physical effort fortunately was still mine. To make it tougher I carried my personal effects. 25 kg of free allowance was used up entirely by food. We had gun-toting soldiers and wireless sets dogging our footsteps in India.

We had doctors, who were constantly declaring many of the pilgrims unfit for altitude and yet all of them made it. We had horrible unvarying food provided by the Kumaon Vikas Mandal, but this was compensated for by the cheap mutton-on-hoof (Rs 80 per sheep) in the Indian villages. Juicy red apples were a rupee a kilo. One hopes that in future there will be less tamasha and pilgrims will be left to their own devices. For after all, years ago, numerous humble souls used to undertake this yatra without such pomp and unnecessary support facilities.

Tawaghat, the road-head, is 257 km from Tanakpur, the rail-head. This road goes through the most dense and picturesque sal forested foothills that I have seen in north India.

If you have the time to make a detour of 10 km on the forest road to Haldwani you will see the magnificent trees of the Sharda forest; which have an average girth of 30 ft. In this forest, many years ago, when I was passing by on a motor-cycle, I first startled a herd of barking deer and immediately afterwards was startled to find a herd of elephants crossing the road less than 20 m ahead. Soon after Tanakpur there is a steep twisting rise up to 5100 ft to Sukhidang from where the whole forest, parts of Nepal and the plains lie spread at your feet. Thence another 50 km to Champawat and 12 more to Lohaghat, where you have very gentle rolling country dotted with clumps of fir and pine woods. The entire vista is dominated by Panch Chuli and the Api-Nampa peaks. After another climb of 15 km to Abbots Mount (6892 ft) another remarkable view point, the road falls to Ghat (2000 ft) crosses the Sharda river, and after another rise of 3200 ft brings you to Pithoragarh. It is in a magnificent bowl dominated by Panch Chuli's needle-sharp main peak 22,652 ft and closer to the town hover the ruins of an old Gurkha fort. Before and after Pithoragarh you can see from Trisul, Nanda Devi to Saipal in Nepal. There are many pine trees here. A gradual descent to Joljibi where the Gori meets the Kali and then, trapped in a narrow gorge, you go via Dharchula (3300 ft) to Tawaghat (3327 ft) by road. From Joljibi till Kalapani, Nepal is always across the river Kali, oftentimes a half-hearted stone's throw away.

Tawaghat is at the meeting of the foaming waters of Kali and the Darma. The distances from Tawaghat along the Kali are :

For a more adventurous trek one can take a shorter but more risky track from Tawaghat along the Kali river to Jipti. The distance is 22 km instead of the 34 km along the present route.

The distances from Tawaghat along the Darma valley to Lowe Dhura (108 km) away on the border are

and on to Lowe Dhura (18,510 ft)

Across the Indian Dharchula is the Nepalese Dharchula and the most prominent place there is the ancient jail still intact with high walls!

From Tawaghat (3327 ft) the way seems to climb straight up to heaven. It is up and up all the steep way to Thanedhar (6370 ft) in a series of zigzags. If you think this is tough, try the short cut. This face being on the windward side is bereft of trees. After Thanedhar conies the first Bhotia village of Pangu, which has the biggest oak trees I have ever seen. A gradual descent to a stream spreading over a wide field and thence a steep rise to Sosha (8052 ft) just after an ancient Bhotia shrine, yet another climb to Tithila pass (9100 ft) and then down through the pretty country to Sridang (8118 ft), Sirkha (7920 ft), Simri (7810 ft) villages. From here you have an excellent view of Api-Nampa and of the By as Kikh Himal range. This stirring sight is always with your walk henceforth, except for a day's march between Binda Koti (7800 ft) and Lamari (7800 ft).

Beyond Simri the path turns into a lush and dense forest of oak, maple and fir trees. Just as you enter it there, near some old ruins, is a beautiful waterfall. You climb higher, till near the Jungledhatti's (8800 ft) picturesquely situated tea shop you pause for rest. Resuming your walk over a cobble-stone path to Rungling Top (9863 ft) then through another dense fir forest, with age-old fungus and parasitical growth hanging from the fir trees, to Simkhola (8100 ft) by the Sim- khola stream. Here you enter a very barren stretch. There is a gentle ascent to Gala (8600 ft). Here start the gorges and a somewhat precarious path. It becomes worse as you go along. There is no water beyond this point. From here look back and you will be stunned by the Kali's gorge — 6000 ft of barren hillside plummeting sharply down to the Kali, Opposite is Nepal with forests and a huge waterfall. Near Jipti (8200 ft) is Binda Koti rest house (7800 ft) where you halt for the second day's rest.

Now starts the most trying passage of the march. There is always a 500-1500 ft drop just a misplaced foot away. At one place there are 644 steps (the sign there wrongly says 764 steps) like that in a staircase but much more steeply arranged. At places there is the comfort of a protecting wall. On the stretch there is only one resting stop under a rock overhang called Khan ka Dera. This entire stretch was known as kirpani (without water) but I found a trickle at this spot. There are other difficult stretches, like the one known as Chatta falls, where to cross a short slide, we had to ascend 800 ft and descend 1100 ft. At Nejang gad there is an impressively roaring 500 megawatt size cataract, the spray of which has a rainbow as long as the sun is out. Do not miss, which you are bound to if the waterfall holds your attention, the striking rock peak known as Ladjekut, above it. A climb again to 8200 ft and a descent under a waterfall to Malpa (6800 ft). The next stage is a dream walk. There is another waterfall — Takti — under which we pass. It is so high that you only get the spray, but do not open your umbrella for it might be blown away. Then comes a hamlet of three houses called Lamari (7800 ft) which is so close to Nepal that snow avalanche spray from that country settles over it in winter. Another ascent and after crossing the Budhi river you arrive at Bud hi (9400 ft) from where there is a fine view of two peaks (18,910 ft and 19,980 ft) of the Byas Rikh Himal. Thus ends the fourth day’s march.

Budhi has a picturesque village, and its residents also own land in Nepal across a shaky bridge. There is a steep climb over clayisb soil to Chai-Lek (11,900 ft), and instead of a decline on the other side, it has a wide, wide alp. There are numerous langurs here, and some of them are bold enough to pose for close-ups, but be careful,, as some might not take kindly to your aiming a camera at them. From here the Nampa (22,162 ft) is close at hand, across the river's divide, and to your north Garbyang (10,300 ft) and beyond the Tinker river and Tinker peak in Nepal. Garbyang is at the centre of a vast panorama of cliffs, gendarmes, needles, slashed hill sides, snow, ice., forests and rivers. There are a few blue pines here. The generally verdant fields of Garbyang are an unexpected eye-opener. Yet, as this village is sinking, the government instead of encouraging the inhabitants to settle nearby, is giving them land at faraway Haldwani in the Terai, Talk of hair-brained schemes! This village has a number of traders, engineers, and civil servants serving all over the country. With many houses abandoned, some leaning drunkenly, and some others shuttered, Garbyang is a ghost town. Across is the Nepalese village and temple of Changru presiding over the sangam of Tinker and Kali rivers,, This place has closer links with India than with the rest of Nepal Charles J. Sherring, D.G. Almora in 1905, visited a cave 1500 ft above the village where he found it filled with the bodies of men, women and children. Some were remarkably well preserved.

Now we are about to approach one of the most charming stretches in all Himalaya. For a while you skirt steep gorges on a precipitous track, which in the olden days used to be shunned favour of a track in opposite Nepal. Then just 6 km from Gunji the valley opens up, dominated in the north by Sangthang (21,262 ft) and in the south by the Nampa massif. Gunji (11,000 ft) is where the Kuti Yangti meets the Kali, and along the former is the route to Lampiya Dhura pass (18,150 ft). Here too, across the Kali, is a chor rasta by which people continue to tend their field and herds in Nepal. We are now in the Byas valley. An extremely beautiful valley with rugged mountains at the base of which is a pretty forest which dwindles as you go ahead. It is more so in October, when the trees and bushes before donning their winter cloak go through an extremely colourful change of apparel. Red, yellow, mauve and brown. Gunji is the last village. Ahead are merely grazing grounds. Then the valley narrows down to a gorge. In this area are a myriad attractive rock-faces and ice climbs. In fact a very challenging traverse could be of the ridge around 19,000 ft to 20,000 ft from Gunji to Shimkhola, by-passing Garbyang and Budhi. It will take about 3 weeks I expect.

Kalapani. What a fitting name for a desolate post!

It is really the back of beyond. Here we have our frontier warders in full strength. Many tree stumps testify to their brute force. There is a fascinating triangular-shaped vertical sheer granite, face of more than 19,000 ft dominating Kalapani's narrow confines. Kalapani still has the ruins of a dharamshala and of a market, which may yet be used again. Over this site tower a couple of striking peaks of Nepal. Nearby merge three rivers, One from Lipu Lekh, the Kali, one from the north of the ridge behind Kuti village, arid another from the above-mentioned peaks of Nepal. Just before Kalapani there is a small spring called Kali, where a temple has been built. The river gets its name from there, though this is not the main source, which is near Lipu Lekh. You cross two bridges. With this you have crossed the great Himalayan crest, and without crossing a pass entered the Zanskar range. This phenomenon X have noticed only at three other places. The Akpa-Spilu stretch in Kinnaur, where also you cross the Himalaya along the Sutlej's gorge, at Phuti Run! in Lahul and near Malari-Geldhung in Garhwal.

Now you enter a very arid area. There are no trees, only stunted bushes. The prospect is desolate but delightful. Fantastic patterns of rock, scree and shade, bordered by snow and ice on serrated ridges bristling with pointed peaks. We are in a wide barren valley where man looks small. Preparing for Tibet's massive spaces. Now we have even left the bushes behind.

Next camp, our 7th, is at Sangchum (14,620 ft). While coming here we passed ruins of shelters, sheep pens, stables, dkaramshalas and cairns for pilgrims and traders at Krim Kang, Nag Dang, Dong Gang, Nabi Dang and Chil where there's water. Sangchum is a wide oval- shaped ground near the fledgling Kali stream before it gets its first tributary from Nepal a little below Chil. The view is rough, bleak, stark and attractive. There is scree all over but the track ahead is good provided it is not covered with snow. We had snow. At Sangchum I had my first uncomfortable night on account of lack of acclimatization. I think this problem hits one here suddenly only after Kalapani (11,900 ft) as you are deprived all at once of trees. Next day's march to Lipu Lekh, 16,750 ft and not — definitely not —17,800 ft as is given in some maps, was done in 1 hr 45 minutes. There is a point to the left of the pass from where can be seen Kaiiash and Manasarovar. I didn't get very far on account of an unexpectedly chilly wind for which I was unprepared. Saw the incredible bulk of Gurla Mandhata (25,350 ft) which the Tibetans call Memo-Nami meaning the 'Name for God'. Tibetan names I found more apt for giving a distinct idea of the feature so named. This Gurla's white summit ridge has a broad base of yellow and brown, and rises straight above the plain. It has no peer. It is incomparable.

Lipu Lekh pass has a rocky outcrop in its middle. It thus appears to have an entrance and exits. This pass is like a thumb jutting into Tibet and Nepal. Somewhere in this knot the Zanskar range, starting from near Kargil in Ladakh, ends.

By the time the Chinese came to the pass to collect us, the porters and we pilgrims were huddled next to the luggage, each other and rocks, sheltering from the raging wind which was hurling spindrifts into us. The sky was clear and the sun shone brightly on our discomfort. It could have been a climber's challenge. Here were the uninitiated muttering to their individual deities for relief. I had found a very comfortable niche about 500 ft above the pass from which I could view Gurla and the scene of misery below at the pass. As soon as the Tibetans were greeted by our Jawans with hot tea I shouldered my pack and rushed down, down, down. Didn't stop till I had cleared the last tongue of snow. We were in a U-shaped valley. Already, the ferocious jagged ridges were petering out, giving place to smooth rounded sides. You could see this age-old process taking place in front of you. Half the ridge was sharp toothed and the rest gentle. To the south, east and west were perpetual snow-covered ridges, but in the centre of this valley floor, though there was a river bed, there was no water. I was very thirsty now. Where was the water? Water was 6 km down near Palla. It came gushing out of the bed like a spring. But this was no spring. It was just the entire river emerging from its subterranean passage. This is — I believe — the done thing for rivers in Tibet. The Sutlej does it. The Dung Lung river on the west of Kailash does it. Some streams off Gurla's Hanks do it. There are many more like that. They just go underground and emerge later.¹

Near Palla the Tibetans met us with their horses at 15.30 hrs after completing the transhipment of our loads from the snow-covered pass to the horses below the snow-line. At Palla the narrow confines open up. A stream comes in here from Nepal Himalaya. Tibet's yellow, ochre, brown hills and plain lay before us, above them towered the Gurla massif and a very striking pyramid-shaped peak of more than 22,000 ft which is one of the southern subsidiary summits of Gurla Mandhata. Very impressive scene. On horses our progress was faster but more painful, as most of us rode on wooden structures to which our loads were tied. By dusk we were at the edge of the wide spaces of Taklakot. Behind us loomed the Api peak (23,399 ft). Soon it turned crimson, pink, blue and silvery grey when the earth had become dark. The 4 days' old moon shone soon after and cast ,i surprisingly bright enough light for shadows. We could make out features and forms distinctly. We were completely out of our side valley, and now were in that of the Karnali. At length we came to Murgum the first village of Taklakot and there we descended down a steep side, guided by helpful villagers, shouting 'Namaste’, to the Map Chu (Karnali in Nepal and Ghaggar in India) which rises from the Lampiya and Manghsha passes. The river had a wide bed, but flowed only in one corner of it over which was a narrow bridge. The route crossed it, rose sharply and skirted the hill on top of which. 1hc ruins of the old fort were seen clearly. Past the ruins of the Indian bazaar, past the Nepali bazaar, the roofs of which are still made of cloth as they were at the beginning of this century. Past the abandoned cliff dwelling of the servants of the feudal Jongpens, past another river and then the Yellow river, both of which rise from Gurla's flanks, and then to our guest house to a warm welcome and delicious Chinese food. Indian time was 21.30 hrs and Chinese time 24.00 hrs.

Next morning, Tibet, part of a dream realized. I woke up early. From my pillow I saw through the window Nalakankar (24,064 ft) , Ishang, Lugpu (all around 22,000 ft), Saipal (23,079 ft) and numerous other peaks glinting in the sun's first rays, I jumped up, opened the door and saw Api (23,399 ft) and Nampa (22,162 ft). ' I stepped out of the room and saw the jagged ridge above Tinker and Lipu Lekh and the eastern ridge of Lampiya Dhura and Manghan passes, and the valley of Map Chu, At my feet were frozen pools. What a view. In the cold clear air they looked so near that I could almost breathe on them.

 

From east to west the solid wall of ice and rock just stretched and stretched, smashing my senses. I just stared and stared transfixed. Never before had I seen such an array of so many big mountains so close. This was Tibet after all. An area of great scales. 4 October was a day of formalities. Exchanging dollars for' yuan, fixing our itinerary, giving our plans, needs and hearing the Chinese rules.

Next day, under blue skies and in a piercing wind we were driven in an open truck through vast spaces. Taklakot is at 13,300 ft. There is a steady stepwise rise over barren plains and each step decorated with chortens, cairns and skulls and horns of rams and ibex. This ascent eventually culminates in a plain of vast dimensions at an altitude of 15,000 ft or so. Rolling hills which seemed formed by a gentle hand, and all behind us and to our southwest stretched Himalaya's invincible blue wall. Ahead to our right we could see the first subsidiary peaks of Gurla Mandhata or Memo-Nami. We had passed Langang, Toyo and its smaller areas. Toyo is where the ruins of Dogra general Zorawar Singh's tomb still stand. These ruins are below the road in a big field. He was killed here in 1841 in a battle with the Chinese. This area had mechanized agriculture, many willows and poplar trees (saplings and growing).

On this wide plain's west is a deep depression containing a river bed, and beyond, tucked at the foot of a flat tableland, was Kardum — the last village on our route. Beyond to the southwest was Mapcha Chango, one of the sources of Karnali. The river was up to its tricks, appearing and disappearing at intervals. Now all eyes were ahead waiting to see Kailash. But first Gurla. Here, it rose in all its ferocity right above this plain. The main peak is about 3000 ft higher than its numerous sentinels. Between them are small glaciers. Some faces of these smaller peaks looked incredibly docile. The northernmost glacier was in a cwm and appeared to be the longest. Rungung and the grazing grounds of Baldak (15,200 ft) at the foot of th€ peak can be seen. From here Longstaff, Alexis and Henri Brocherel, attempted the main peak in July 1905.1 They had got to a creditable height of 24,000 ft. From here they could see Kamet to the west and Dhaulagiri to the east. The other prominent points around Memo- Naini and its ridges are 22,850 ft, 22,650 ft, 22,200 ft, 21,800 ft, 21,700 ft, 21,980 ft. The last four are on the eastern and southern ridges. Along our route, we passed only two nullahs from Gurla's western flanks that had to be bridged. There were many more streams but only two had some quantity of water, which was mostly frozen. In others the water must have been flowing underground.

 

Eventually, we came to another pass, not the Gurla La (16,800 ft) but a lower one. There, above the dark black scree bordered above and below by yellow pebbles, stood the legendary inverted cup-shaped ridge of Kailash. I was silent. This was a sight that I had long waited for. It was just as moving as I thought it would be. Even more. For me it was not a religious one but a purely aesthetic one. The colours played havoc with my mind. The moment is indescribable. We carried on down for a kilometre before we stopped. There we saw Kakshas Tal or Langak Tso (meaning in Tibetan the lake bearing reflection of five mountains — Gurla, Api, Nampa, Nanda Devi and Kailash). Everyone was delirious with excitement. I was still tongue-tied, but extremely excited. While others raised shouts of 'Kailashpati ki Jai' and 'Har Har Mahadev' I could not even say 'How nice'. No words could do justice to what we saw. Kailash, Tise, heaven of both the Hindus and Buddhists, fill the landscape. Full of majesty, a king of mountains, dominating the entire chain by 2000 ft. Kailash was reflected in the Langak Tso. Blue, white, brown, black, ochre and yellow. These were the colours round us. Indescribable. The colours were so bright that they softened the harsh aridity of the mountains. Behind us towered the highest peak in all of western Tibet — Gurla Mandhata. After suitable reverence, and by now everyone was overawed and hushed, we moved on.

The driver raced down to the shores of Kakshas Tal (14,900 ft and 100 km in circumference) in which I could spot two of its islands, Topserma and La-che-to. Here we crossed a road coming from, I suppose, Gyanema. None of the Tibetans travelling with us as guides would help us with any information. I had to keep asking questions and supplying the answers myself and then watch their reactions to form my opinion. On our right was the 300-1000 ft high ridge that separated Manasarovar (Tso Mavang — meaning lake of Rajhans) from Rakshas Tal. As we left the eastern shore of the latter we started climbing and after a straight ascent of 500 ft we came to the top of a ridge. To our right was sprawled the sky-blue of Manasarovar (14,950 ft, circumference of 80 km). To its east I could see the Marium La (16,900 ft) and the gap made by Tage Tsangpo considered by Sven Hedin to be the correct source of Sutlej.1 It rises from Ganglung glacier, the snowfields of which I think I could discern. This view of Sven Hedin is further supported by the fact that on the eastern site of Manasarovar there is a shrine at a spring called Langdhen Khambab, the water of which flows into the Tage Tsangpo. This showed that the ancient Tibetans considered this river to be the source of the Sutlej, which is called Langchen Kabab after its official emergence at Dolchu near Tirthapuri on the west of Kakshas Tal.

 

Amongst the summits — and there were many — that I could see to the east, was also that of Kubi Gangri (23,830 ft) at the base of which rises the Martrang Tsangpo, which later becomes the Brahmaputra. Within 60 km of this holiest of holies were the sources of the Indus (Singi Kabab), Sutlej (Langchen Kabab), Brahmaputra (Martsang-Tsangpo) and the Karnali (Mapcha Chango). The area that we were now seeing is a well defined plateau. From Rudok to Lhasa this area is also the highest wide stretch (barring the Chang-Tang to the north). It has Marium La to the east and Jerko La near Gartofc to the west and Kailash to the north and Gurla Mandhata to the south. That is why the rivers flow east, south, and west and northwest. The Indus flows WNW and turns 230° at Nanga Parbat's (26,660 ft) base and flows into the Arabian sea. Similarly the Tsangpo flows ESE, makes an identical turn at Namche Barwa's (25,445 ft) base and as Brahmaputra flows into the Bay of Bengal. Just think of this area's hydrographical importance. The two rivers Sutlej and Karnali cut through the Himalaya towards southwest and southeast respectively., making stunning gorges. The former meets the Indus and the latter the Ganges. Everything is proportionately divided between east and west ! Such is nature here. No wonder with so much life-giving importance concentrated in this area that our sages endowed it witfo supernatural significance. It was the only tiling for them to do m those ages.

We now dipped to enter the vast spaces containing grazing grounds, now yellow heralding winter's approach, sand hummocks on which were juniper mounds, bushes and furze. At places there were sheep grazing. There were walls, designed to protect such pastures from the wind, stretching for miles and miles. There were mounds of bushes, high and numerous enough to hide enormous herds of sheep. These mounds or hummocks had a spreading bush/ which one of the Tibetans called what sounded like Tsakpak. This I think is juniper. In this clear atmosphere we could see for 100 km and more whichever way we faced. Unparalleled view. The proud head of Kailash was always there to extract our tribute and reverence. Past Parkha, the famous cross-roads town of yesteryear. Now it is a sheep-rearing centre and an important servicing halt on the Sinkiang-Lhasa highway. The next stop west on this highway is Tirthapuri, 70 km away. Between are just immense spaces. A steep rise of about 300 ft through rounded pebbles and we were at Kailash's feet.

Darchen (15,300 ft). It is easy to see that the spaces we had just left were once the bed of a lake. The Darchen gompa had been burned during the cultural revolution. There are some lamas here including a female lama, whose upkeep is still provided by the King of Bhutan. In this shrunken demesne of theirs they continue their religious practices, their fervour undiminished by the diminishing flock. Camped here were some Tibetans, who were doing the circuit around the holy mountain. There is also a man here who daily walks around the 52 km circuit. He had been doing it for two months and would continue doing it till winter's snow blocked the route.

I was excited about the morrow. For tomorrow during our parikrama I planned to make a quick foray towards the Tseti La (18,540 ft) from where I hoped to be able to see the Chang-Tang plateau (17,000 ft and higher) and the source of the Indus near its base. These plans were aborted as we had a late start on account of our horseman arriving at about 11.00 hrs, and then there being just one horse which could carry only our rations, and thus we had to carry our personal items which slowed us down.

Darchen is on the left bank of the only stream that comes from Kailash's southern face. There are five others but they were all dry. From here there is a magnificent view of Rakshas Tal, Gurla, Kubi Kangri, the peaks of Nepal, Nanda Devi and Kamet can also be seen from a point marked by a cairn above Darchen. It is always cold here. The wind is at its worst in the afternoon. The rest of the time it is gentle but still bone-chilling.

For 5 km the route traversed the great plain's edge. Then at some ruins we saw Kailash's south face in all its glory, together with its western sentinels of" dark granite. Meru. the Buddhists believe, is on its eastern face of crystal or silver, on the south of sapphire or lapis lazuli stone, on the west of ruby and the north of gold. These stones are said to depict the actual colouring of Kailash's sides. There is something special about Kailash. Around no mountain can one go around with so much ease as one does here. From these ruins we turn to the north and enter after a while Kailash's western gorge. Near here is the Dung Dong stream which drains Kailash's flanks, Tseti La and the range to the northwest. This is still the watershed of the Sutlej.

This area, which is marshy and green is the northern edge of Khalee moor. Kailash's summit hovers above us beautiful and serene. The dark granite walls are steep, smooth, rounded and insurmountable. This is the only point on the parikrama that one can actually touch Kailash's granite rock itself. At various points were waterfalls frozen white into the black background. Everywhere was nature in its most daunting and impressive form. We had seen such sights before but here its sheer size and numbers overwhelmed us. For a while we walked on semi-frozen marshes. It must be awful in summer. Turning back we could discern the triangular Kamet, Abi Gamin, Nanda Devi, the Tirsulis, Panch Chuli and Sangthang. That night 7 October we camped at Dung Lung-Do, a moraine-filled plain at 16,800 ft surrounded by granite peaks. Here three rivers from ENE, NW and WNW meet. Tn late afternoon and morning when I saw it these sides were still frozen. At places this Dung Lung stream had a covering of ice even during the warmest part of the day. This river had also disappeared for more than a kilometre before we came to our first camp.

Next morning we were overtaken by two of our pilgrims who later completed the circuit in one day, 18 hours of constant walking, A worthy physical feat but religiously such people are given the opprobrious epithet of 'Khi-Kor meaning the man who runs like a dog — unappreciatively. From here we walked east in the valley called Hie- Lungpa on the left bank of the river coming from Tseti La. Opposite the ruins of Dera Phuk gompa we go along the small rivulet coming in from the short glacier on Kailash's northern flanks. This absolutely vertical face, so steep that snow has difficulty finding a perch, rises sheer above us. On its east and west stood two huge rock peaks. The height was beginning to tell. We laboured over a series of gentle spurs. Crossed a partly frozen stream in a wide bed. Then came to a place called Tutu-daps o which had numerous cairns. This I thought was the Dolma La which was a col connecting two hills. It was not. Dolma La as it was 3 km ahead and still a thousand feet higher. To our right was Kailash's long razor-sharp eastern ridge and up to it stretched a moraine covered with snow, giving a salt-and - pepper-like effect. At Dolma La's base was a small frozen lake. A sharp and short steep climb to the top where a really huge boulder on a vast field marks the 18,599 ft high pass. The view is not satisfying either way you look. For a view we have to go down the steep side (how could anyone do a prostrate parikrama here?) where we descend a foot with each step, past another glacial lake called Tso Kavala by the Tibetans and Gaurikund by our forefathers, down to the valley of Lam-Chakur. Now we could see Gurla again. This range which is marked as Kailash in our maps is called by the Tibetans Sungre. Cunningham and Moorcroft in separate works call it the Ladakh range, tracing its origin from Kiris, the point where the Shyok meets the Indus.2 The people of Hanle and Chumar call the range that is supposed to emanate from the junction of Hanle and Indus rivers near the Pangong Tso as the Kailash range, as they believe that Kailash is in it. Drew and Rawling supported this view and named it the Kailash range.

 

This valley which we are in is rugged but attractive. It has a wide green floor, above which are serrated ridges which are not seen often in Tibet. Kailash is seen once briefly at Chando-Sanglam, a cold camping ground near a marsh. Here we spent another night with the restless wind for company. It was cold next morning. It was like making a summit attempt at 20,000 ft at dawn. Even the sun and exercise took a long time to thaw us out. We came out of this valley and then at Zangdo village turned west past five dry river beds to Darchen. With us was one 59 years old pilgrim from Madras whom we had invited to join us when he was praying at the shrine 5 km from Darchen. He was without a sleeping-bag and slept in acute discomfort in our anoraks and duvets, In that bitter chill it was only his faith that saw him through.

From Darchen we left for Manasarovar on the 9th. Again another beautiful drive, but this time bathed in an out-of-this-world glow of crimson, pink and lavender of a late afternoon sun. Manasarovars pebbly shore was emitting a soft golden light. The squat bulk of Gurla shone in pink and gold. Kailash's summit was still white. Manasarovar itself was deep blue, a colour I did not see subsequently during my journey at the lake. The waves were a foot high and the wind was freezing us. 1 was again tongue-tied. But a somewhat unlettered companion from Kinnaur summed up the scene succinctly. 'Very beautifuls yar I cannot do better than that! There was an 11-days-old moon that night and those who have seen full moon nights in the Himalaya will understand if I omit using coarse, trite and inadequate words to describe the serene silver scene. There was not even a whisper of a wind.

Amidst these wide spaces of Tibet you have a feeling of timelessness. What we were seeing today has remained unchanged for aeons. The dictate of man stops just 20 km from Taklakot and that too a few kilometres off the road. After that the endless spaces hold you enthralled and in awe. What can man do here ? One untarred road here and a settlement somewhere there. The place is so immense you have a hard time locating them. One glance takes in so many hundreds of square miles that even a large city would be missed. And thousands of years from now it will all be the same. Wind, sand and rocks.

Back to Taklakot on 10 October. Revelled again in the stark uncomplicated beauty and unvarying aridity of the landscape. One thing I noticed, that with different positions of the sun different features stand out. The hill on which the ruins of the Taklakot fort stand has sides that resemble fortifications made by man. They are not. They are nature's product. They are prominent only at certain times in the day. The 11th was a day to laze around. I just stared at the Himalaya which I would not be seeing in such a great mass for a long time.

Return to India was exciting for some. In clear Tibetan sunshine we started for Lipu Lekh. We got delayed on account of recalcitrant horses. As soon as, at 14.00 hrs Indian time, we crossed the pass we were enveloped, without warning, in a white-out. Heavy snow, swirling mists and no visibility. The older pilgrims were helped down by the jawans of the Indo-Tibet Border Police. Had they not been there at that moment there would have been at least one casualty. We were back home.

 

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