BACK TO RUPSHU

ROMESH D. BHATTACHARJI

I FIRST visited Rupshu in 1984. At that time it was' difficult to reach it from any side.¹ In 1990 a rough road breached its most vulnerable part from the north to link Karzok (4604 m) with Leh 224 km away. Another road has linked Hanle (4390 m) on the eastern-most extreme of Rupshu, and yet another to Chumar (4055 m) on its southern-most tip. Despite these peripheral violations Rupshu is still a fascinating high altitude desert, most of which has still to be explored. It is bordered to the east and south by Tibet's Ngari Khorsum division's Guge sub-division, at the north by the Kula peak's (6596 m) western ridge and the Tso Kar plain, and to the west by the Zanskar range. Its most remarkable features are a 150 sq km lake called Tsomoriri, the lowest place in the desert, the Pangpolungpa or the Rupshu Ice-Cap, and 19 peaks more than 6000 m high, all of which are part of small ranges that dot this strange desert. From Spiti, Lahul and Tibet few tracks pierce through desolate wastes to Rupshu. The few passes that link Spiti and Lingti valleys with Rupshu are used about 5 to 6 times a year by Tibetans and Spitians. The passes to Lahul from Phirse fu valley are, as far as I could learn, not used these days.

 

We left Delhi on 5 June 1993 and inspite of a chartered bus, took three days to reach Kaja, 476 km from Kalka. I was very happy to see former inner line check-posts languishing in the dry air. We were stopped at only one post, and that we did not mind, for the place was Sumdo (a place where two rivers meet), the confluence of the Pare chu with the Spiti. I had earlier followed the former from its source below Parang la, and this time would be tracing its course from 8 km below it. The Pare chu runs a crazy course. It rises in India, rushes into Tibet confidently at Chumar, only to be forced back into India by the impregnable Drongmar range, a peak which we could see from the check post. The cops here were so obliging that they let me take a few photographs before their old habits took over and they apologetically asked me to stop shooting. What a change from the earlier days when I had to hide my cameras in especially made cavernous pockets. The picturesque two lane NH 21 or the Hindustan Tibet Road, now open to foreigners, made it unfortunately too easy to visit this area. The breathtaking gorges of the Satluj, and the rugged- rock faces that many years earlier had rivetted me and given me many anxious moments on my first trek over narrow paths to Shipki la, looked humbled and less mesmerising. From the narrow windows of a rickety bus the lofty crags, serrated ridges rising sharply to merge with gentle snow ridges could be seen in tantalising patches. What a change from my many motorcycling trips in the 70s and early 80s when the road was rough, the sights so awesome, the progress so slow, that even now I have not forgotten some of the more bone shattering stretches and spectacular views. From a bus all that magnificence looked patchy and was wasted.

On the periphery of Kinnaur district but in the Spiti valley, and quite close to Tibet is the 3660 m high village of Nako. For 15 years, people from this village have been accompanying me as guides and porters. The oldest of them, Tenzing Amgyal, had been busy since April trying to find the route to Takling la, which I, going by the few 19th century accounts that I had read, thought was beyond Lagurdasi Plain. Amgyal visited the villages of Kibber, Hansi, Hal, Losar and Kyoto to confirm this. He found that there is no way beyond Lagurdasi plain though there is a pass ahead. He located one trader, Tashi Topgay, from Hal, who had crossed Takling la in 1990. This la was at the head of Takling nala and not beyond Lagurdasi Plain. He and 7 others from Nako were our porters. With 21 members from Delhi and the Northeast we were quite a large group. Tenzing Amgyal had also arranged for 29 mules from Leo, but as there was some problem about rates for mules, we were detained in Kaja (3923 m) for three days. We welcomed the respite as it gave us time to get acclimatised to and appreciate a not-any-more-barren part of Spiti. There are rows of sturdy trees within stone enclosures, irrigation channels, long polythene pipes that bring waters from glacial snouts to keep vast fields green, electricity, dish antennae, and gas and kerosene in the kitchens. Anyone returning to Spiti and Kinnaur after five years or so will be pleasantly surprised by these long, green stretches that stick out prominently amidst the stark, arid mountains from Akpa to Kunzum la. Kah village which a decade ago was struggling to nurture a few saplings has now been swamped in an avalanche of willow, khurmani and apple trees. In Pooh no household uses wood, only gas. In many villages we saw solar panels doing their bit for conservation, aided considerably by the Ratang (4024 m) hydel plant, which provides a constant source of electricity even in winter temperatures of minus 20 degrees.

Two trucks took us to a place called Pangmo Maidan (4054 m) beyond the narrow walls dominating the entry to Gyundi valley and after the stark and attractive village of Hal. Here we met our 29 mules, which had come from Leo village 90 km away. Pangmo Maidan is a 10 sq km grassy plain forming a delicate and crumbling crust of evanescent green 100 m above the 2 km broad bed of the Spiti river, the loess sides of which were sprayed with tall obelixes.

On 13 June we left Pangmo for the other side of the Spiti river bed, through which the river gently flows in many channels. We had two options. To walk 10 km round by the bridge near Kyoto or thread a dusty way through pinnacles of mud embedded with boulders and then wet our feet by crossing the river to cut 5 km. We walked 10 km. The Zaur Dung (4085 m) camp is on the last of the plains we were to meet till the Pare chu valley. It is at the mouth of the narrow ravine of Takling nala through which rushes a foaming river to be calmed by one of Spiti's several clear channels a little lower down. A pencil thin path carries on across the nala, and high above the Spiti river bed, to Lagurdasi Plain, 21 km away.

From Zaur Dung we walked down into the bowels of the Takling gorge, crossed it by a natural bridge formed by a boulder of about 4 m diametre having rolled over a narrow gap. We followed a path that weaved through many mud and stone pinnacles but it was soon smothered in numerous places by scree slips and avalanche tongues. Often we had to carve out the semblance of a path. After leaving the river bed we climbed a steep hill side into what our guide from Hal, Tashi Topgay, euphemistically called a 'jungle'. It was a sparse covering of a metre high thorn bush locally called Tama and not at all our idea of a forest. Yet it was pasture for the cattle and sheep of Kyoto, Losar and Hal. Ahead lay a traverse over two dangerous looking, steep, rock walls with a rock slide thrown in. However when we got there it turned out to be a comfortable climb as a half a metre wide track complete with a stone wall foundation over the ugly bits had been made. Another steady climb through scree and a 'jungle' brought us to Chungar (4482 m), which was an inclined i<imp site overlooking an abyss. An excellent place for hang gliding, except that the constant high velocity wind could be somewhat of .1 spoil sport. Way down below, chafing at its narrow confines, roared the Takling nala. Looking back the way we had come we could nee portions of the Pangmo Maidan, and the peaks girdling the Gyundi nala. Bare and steep mountain sides loomed ahead above and around us deepening the gloom of a rare cloudy day. The brown, blue grey and ochre walls of several rough and fissured vertical rock spires and pinnacles contrasted brazenly with the smooth-looking, creamish grey 200 m b#nd of scree bordering them at their bases. Our route lay above the Takling nala in an E-NE direction. A kilometre from the camp a steep ice-filled narrow gully had to be traversed. An immensely steep and high rock wall, barred access to an easy ridge beyond which lay the Pare chu valley. Our guide Tashi advised a day'.s recce as the track ended here.

Tashi is a trader in horses, asses, pashmina wool, and even gold nuggets from Ladakh and Tibet. He has been visiting Karzok every year since 1986 by crossing the Parang la (5580 m). In 1990 he found a way over the Takling la to Pare chu as it was closer to his village, but had not used it again as the route was difficult. This pass is not the Takling of the old revenue records on the route to which the ever greedy colonials had a tax collecting station. The route to that pass was from Lagurdasi field. Parang la, which we crossed in 1984, is now used by these horse traders, as well as Tibetans going to Spiti to sell yaks. Between July and September there are at least 4 crossings. Tashi (he was taking three assess with him for Karzok) and others are still carrying on the century old Central Asian tradition of trading in horses to improve stock. A practice that was conveniently used as a cover by Moorcroft, the first European to visit Ladakh in the early 19th century, for his part in the Great Game — a proxy war 'fought' by surveyors of Russia and England.

Traversing trackless, steep, scree-ridden hill sides is difficult. Fortunately, our yo yo like route, had only two short stretches beyond the Char Kula stream, that were precarious. To the north across the Takling nala could be seen a pass, which most probably led to the southwest of Baralacha la. We had to descend about 150 m to cross the snow covered glacial snout of the Takling glacier which receives rubble from 5 smaller glaciers. We climbed up the steep moraine scree of the widest and farthest glacier to the N-NE, and reached a shelf of about 100 x 50 flat metres which Tashi called Takling Maidan (5030 m). We still could not see the la, but we were held spellbound by other sights. The peaks of Ratang, Gyundi, Bara Shigri, the Baralacha la and the grey, black and ochre granite pins and needles with their iced walls glinting in the setting sun above us. The highest of the Gyundi peaks was a snow pyramid of about 6300 m. Tashi couldn't give us names for any, even though he had been to Gyundi nala before.

The next day we reached Takling la (5274 m) after a 90 minute trudge. Till this point we had covered about 40 km from Kyoto bridge. We saw the pass only when we were 50 m away from it. There were clouds gathering over where we had been, and none where we were going to. This difference is why I like visiting territories across the Zaskar range. To the N, E and ESE of the pass we could see as far as the last range of mountains that- were well inside Tibet. Only their tips had snow, in marked contrast to the peaks across the Spiti valley which had heavy accumulation of snow upto about 4880 m. Yet on the Spiti river side of the Takling pass there was no snow, whereas on the Pare chu side, which has much more sunlight during the day, we faced a problem. There was a lot of snow and ice. Our mules would either sink in or slither. We solved that problem by dumping most loads and sending the mules back at the crack of dawn to retrieve them.

Most passes usually reveal a new terrain and a surprise or two. The few passes on the Spiti-Pare chu watershed are the separation point between a reclaimable desert and a permanent one. The Spiti valley (about 3600-4000 m) had several large spots of green, but the 2 km wide river bed of Takhn chu 400 m below us was completely bare, very colourful and very open. During our climb up to the pass we found sweeping views restricted by funnel-like gorges. Not so here, even though we were still in Spiti. No niggardly views. We could see forever it seemed. From the peaks above Baralacha la to our WNW, past the peaks crowning the Tsarap Lingti chu's and Phirse fu's watersheds to the peaks dotting the Pare chu's ravines. A view that made getting there worth it. The glacial stream that we were following would become the Takhn chu after meeting the stream from Baralacha la at Takling Sumdo at the. foot of the pass. Later on at Dutung, below Parang la, it becomes the Pare chu. Baralacha la according to Tashi was an 8 hours' march away to the N-NE. On both sides of the Takling la were two hanging glaciers, and to its south was a 200 m high vertical wall dramatically framing the pass. 500 m away on the south side of the pass we saw another col of the same height. It had a glacier about 4 km in length. The route up was barricaded by an icefall and a snowfield above it. The access to it from the Takling nala would be horribly difficult, and worth exploring. As far as I could learn this beautiful pass has not yet been crossed.

Only two passes between Spiti and Pare chu have been recorded so far — Takling la and Parang la (5580 m). Details of Takling la are rarely given in 19th century accounts, and not at all in later ones. I think that the Takling la of these accounts is the fourth pass to the Pare chu and not the one we crossed this year. To compound the confusion the Takling la we crossed also has the same height as the earlier one. The usually meticulously detailed information in the 1897 publication Routes in Jammu & Kashmir by Maj. Gen. Le Marquis <$e Bourbel is wrong about the pass he has mentioned as Takling la. First, this pass is not at the head of the Takling nala, and a pass at the head of a nala is usually given the name of that stream. Second, the route to this 19th century pass from Hal is given as: Kyoto bridge — Zaur Dung field — cross Takling nala (all accounts write of the route going up Lagurdasi Plain, completely ignoring the Takling nala, which is a voluminous and loud stream that substantially changes the volume of water in the Spiti). Third, the Lagurdasi plain, which till fifty years ago used to be the scene of a month long fair in which traders from Tibet, Central Asia, and the plains of India would congregate, is 21 km from the Kyoto bridge. From Lagurdasi the earlier 'Takling la' is only 8 km away, quite a distance from the Takling nala. Fourth, the glacier we crossed below the Takling la is not even mentioned. This is strange because Gen. de Bourbel always mentions the landmark, and he never misses glaciers whenever they are along the routes he has catalogued, for e.g. the 6.5 km long glacier below Parang la has been accurately described by him. Fifth, on the Spiti side, below the 'Takling la' mentioned in the above book and earlier accounts, there used to be an octroi/customs post, taxing caravans going to Tibet and Ladakh. On the bleak route we took, there was no place for such a post. I couldn't visualise any officials — even if they were eccentric and English staying there for even a week let alone 3 months.²

 

The names of the camp sites from Takling la to Narbu Sumdo on the Pare chu route are Dakar Kuru. Thatang (8 km below Parang la), Tradang, Thukrote, and Umlung (Raolcham now). The Ladakh-Himachal boundary does not follow the water shed but the Pare chu valley till it turns south to Chumar near Narbu Sumdo.

Our camp at the base of Takling la was at the edge of a vast river bed that was desolate and colourful. The place called Takling Sumdo by Tashi was about 4800 m. On our way to the next camp we found a side valley coming from the north, from the Tsarap L,ingti chu's watershed. It had several channels but all were bone dry just like the valley we were in. The ground that we were traversing was much the same. The numerous channels of the Takhn chu that had made us to repeatedly take our boots off had vanished. Thirsty, jve had our eyes on the ground, which led to the discovery of several ammonites and fossilized stones. Evidence that this area was under the sea some years back in time.

About 5 km later the river bed narrowed into a funnel that was still about a km wide. Its entrance was marked by a stupendous, soaring rock face at the base of a 6000 m plus peak. Beyond this marker the waters of the Takhn chu resurfaced. After turning a corner we entered a relatively narrow (500 m) and short gorge, beyond which, on the undulating right bank was our camp site Thatang (also called Dutung) Sumdo (4817 m). This site was about 3 km and 300 m below Nyima Tik Tiki, our camp site on the way down from Parang la in 1984. Across the river-bed loomed the towering, rugged and fissured rock faces. Higher still, capping this soaring, tortuous jumble of rock and icefields were gentle summits. Dramatically contrasting topography like this is common in the Pare chu valley. The summits are similar, but their lower portions are difficult and individualistic depending on how the unceasing winds strike them. Winds in the Pare chu blow all the time, though not as severely as in the Rupshu, where they blow for only half the time. The Pare chu's river-bed coming down from Parang la was more than 2 km wide.

Across it, we could make out two Tifietan tents. The inhabitants denied they were from Tibet. They claimed they were Tibetan refugees frorn Chumar. The freshness of the obviously Tibetan goods they were selling indicated that they had come from Tibet only a few days ago. Dried meat, butter, Tibetan daggers, Chinese boots, yaks etc. They were off to Spiti to sell them and buy horses. They had unsuccessfully tried to cross Parang la and when told about Takling, they were very happy, as their destination was Kyoto near the head of Takling nala. Trade with Tibet is quite common here but kept under wraps. Everybody participates, and everybody denies it too. Our porters from Nako themselves had visited places as far as Tashigong and Gartok in Tibet to sell cereals, vegetables, hair oils, scissors etc. They are welcomed by the Chinese, who direct their caravans to villages to sell their wares in. These people were quite disappointed with the news that legal trade over Shipki la has been permitted, for then the money bags from the plains would push them out of business.

From here to Narbu Sumdo the route is unvarying, but never dull. It descends at the rate of about 10 m in 2 km. It goes past loess pinnacles behind which hover, loom, and smile — depending upon whether there's sunlight or clouds — immense rock walls with clinging frozen waterfalls emphasising their steepness. These last formations were only on the left bank and rose straight up from it. On the left bank there were only three river beds meeting the Pare chu from the north, i.e. from the Tsarap Lingti chu's ridge. On the right bank, six wider river beds, most of them dry, come in from the ice-ridge that separates it from Lari valley in Spiti. The two nalas that came in from the ridge separating India from Tibet looked too formidable to go up, but according to hearsay there are two passes on the Gya peak massif that lead to Bagazok in Tibet. No one would talk to us about these routes, for I think these are the notorious 'chor rastas' (smuggling routes). Tashi was too emphatic and too loud in denying that these led to Tibet. Each of these side valleys has at last one striking peak as a lode star. Across the Pare chu from Racholam, our last camp in that valley, there's a Tedungma (a thorn bush that's less than a metre high and twice as wide) dotted valley called Nubuk. It leads N-NE to a 5000 m plus high pass to Chumik Shelte, a spring 6 km beyond Narbu Sumdo in Rupshu.

Near Racholam (Umlung of 1984) late one evening, tired after a long march, and the end not yet in sight, we were revived by the sight of snow pigeons, which indicated human habitation nearby. In 1984 we did not see any indication of life till we had reached Narbu Sumdo. In June 1993 there were many more patches of green in the Pare chu valley and signs of yaks, horses, goats and people having been there. Our route to Narbu Sumdo lay along the Pare chu, till it turned south to Chumar and Tibet 29 km away. In 1984 we had to climb high and traverse a rugged and crumbling hill side as the river flowed tempestuously next to where we were walking. Quite often we walked in the teeth of a cold wind that sprayed us with stinging sand. For most of the way the river was a docile murmuring brook, but at the point of fording it, it had become' several fast flowing, knee deep channels. As soon as we crested a 15 m spur we were in SE Ladakh and standing at the edge of the enormous Rupshu desert. This was heralded, after a 400 m wide band of pebble strewn sand, strangely, by lumps of green stretching for five kms to our left and ahead of us. We were in the Narbu Sumdo marshes. At this point were the ruins of a revenue station set up in the colonial period when each Changpa had to pay a head tax of Re. 1 per family annually!

From here we could see the 4win Mata peaks, which had had fresh snow. The slowly rising, grey, pink and crimson, swirling clouds at sunset made it a memorable sight. Behind them was a peak more than 6000 m high and an icefield, the formation of which to the south of the ridge was puzzling. Narbu Sumdo had much more vegetation, and consequently many more herds of sheep and Changpa families, than in 1984. It had more water too, and the mounds of green that covered the marshes, edged us into camping amongst the yurts of three Changpa families and close to the nest of a bar-headed goose couple, whose 2 day old chick preferred the warmth of our tents so much that it spent the night with us rather than in its nest despite many firm attempts to make it leave. Next morning we had to leave it with a Changpa to hold onto till we left 2 kms beyond Narbu Sumdo. We left the green oases at Narbu la (4847 m) and suddenly emerged onto a high altitude desert. The dust that we kicked up would quickly settle in the rarified air, and a trail would be formed easily. 6 kms away from Narbu Sumdo we were once again surprised. In the middle of white glaring sands was a pocket of lively green on which were camped several Changpa families. This was Chumik Shelte (Chumik is the Changpa word for spring) where we had halted briefly in 1984 too. Now it had a bigger marsh bristling with sea gulls, bar-headed geese and brahminy ducks. After this brief respite the stark desert enveloped us completely. The mountains on either side receded so far back (only 12 degrees above the horizon) that we could see much more of the sky. These mountains were colourful. Black, blue, ochre, orange and brown. There were shimmering reflections that made our caravan look as if it was wobbling on liquid legs. We crossed the narrow entrance to the 60 kms long Phlrse fu valley to its east, and saw its waters flow south to Narbu after they rushed down a detritus fan on to the vast plain in several channels that meandered aimlessly for a kilometre or so before rushing down south. In 1984 the Phirse fu flowed north into the SW corner of Tsomoriri. This phenomenon is — according to Drew and Strachy the only recorded instance of its kind in all of the Himalaya Hid Transhimalaya. We followed the dry river beds to Tsomoriri which wi' could now see as a thin, deep blue line in the distance.

Tsomoriri — the highest, salt or fresh water lake (4512 m) in India, emerged gradually. It overwhelmed the senses as in a considerably laser way does one of Beethoven's symphonies. From the very beginning wi> were hooked. In the late afternoon sun, under a clear azure blue sky. we saw it first as a thin, deep blue line linking the Mata peaks wilh the squat ochre bulk of the Thalda Kurmis peaks (6298, 6666 and 6622 m) all of which had a thin layer of snow on their summits. Only a part of the lake could be seen. The rest was over the horizon. Sand at our feet gave way to scree of a long dried lake bed, and then about a km from the lake to a bright green meadow lit up by the slanting rays of a setting sun. This was Kiangdom or Chungtung. Next to this was a spring in the river bed where once flowed the Pare chu, I must revert to my 1984 visit as the change around Tsomoriri has to be recorded. To its south, even today there are no outsiders except for an annual visit by an army or I.T.B.P. patrol. We discovered that not only had the lake receded in length by about 20 m and by about 1.5 m in level, its waters were no longer crystal clear along the shore, which was white with thick salt deposits bordering the dark blue waters. The bank, at places, had tufts of weeds washed ashore. The waters were murky along most of the bank. We had brought a rubber dinghy to take depth readings and compare them with those made by Francis Drew in 1873. We were pulling up weeds at a distance of at least 250 m from the mid southern and south western shores. The lake seems to have shrunk at a much faster rate in the past 9 years than in the preceding 100 years.

In 1984 Kiangdom was better known as Chung Tung to the Changpas. In 1993 they called it only Kiangdom. Both these names are recorded in Routes in Jammu & Kashmir written by Maj. Gen. Le Marquis de Bourbel in 1897. In 1984 there were tufts of grass about Va m apart with sand in between. This sand would be blown into every part of our tents and clothing whenever the wind blew, which was for 10 out of 24 hours. In 1993 we were camped on a lush meadow on which our mules grazed contentedly, unlike 9 years ago, when they had to be fed from fodder carried especially for them.

We stopped at Kiangdom for a day to take depth readings, to walk to some heights on the SW end of the lake, to follow some kiangs (wild asses) and marmots that we had seen, and to talk to the Changpas camped nearby. The lake had certainly receded. 5 km ahead on the western bank we had seen two ponds in 1984. These were separated from the Tso by a small bank and were level with the lake. This time we saw only two small bowls caked with lime deposits. The lake flowed 1.5 m below. The Changpas had transistors, used soap and pressure cookers, had wads of notes while living in woollen yurts, the designs of which had not changed. Earlier they were surprised to see a mirror and had never heard of Shimla or Delhi. Now they have no use for barter trade, know all about the woollen mills of Ludhiana and Amritsar, and sell their pashm wool for Rs. 500/- to Rs. 700/- a kg. Each pashm goat gives 72 to 1.5 kgs of wool in a year. Each family that we met appeared to have about 50 of these goats apart from the usual ordinary wool bearing sheep.

Looking straight down south, beyond Narbu Sumdo, is a towering peak the north face of which is steep rock. According to the 1:50,000 scale Survey of India map, Gya (6794 m) (which Harish Kapadia says means 'vast, great, widespread) is directly south of Tsomoriri. The Changpas call it 'Kangjam Gyalmo' or the 'Empress of the Snows'. The Changpa name suits this peak more. It looks like an empress. Aloof and haughty. This is the same peak that Soli Mehta and Kapadia identified as Gya in their book Exploring the Hidden Himalaya. Later from C3 on Mata we saw another snow covered peak³, which was two peaks to the west from Gya. Unfortunately the Changpas we met have no name for this all white peak, which is in Spiti's Lingti valley. It can be seen clearly from Thazam Tso and Peldo which is on the north bank of the Tso. What was stranger was that no one could recognise Mata or Thalda Kurmi, which some Changpas Identified hesitantly as Lagbu la. Lagbu phu is the stream that struggles over desiccating sand to reach the NE shore of Tsomoriri 4 km short of Peldo. They just transferred that name to what some maps said was Thalda Kurmi.

 

At Kiangdom we had planned to split up into two groups. One was to go to Karzok via the longer eastern shore and the other up the western shore. The higher than budgeted rates the mules were charging, compelled us to shelve that plan and get to Karzok quickly so as to be free of them.

The 19 kms to Karzok (4570 m) were covered on a hot day that had not a speck of cloud* Within the first three hours of walking we had emptied our water bottles. There was Kharlung Lungpa that ran down the snow filled cirque north pf Mata from which, Tashi had assured us, we would find water. We didn't. There were other rivulets that were similarly dry. There's water in these streams only (rom evening till early morning. We were constantly walking along water, but we couldn't drink it. Some of us cooled off by jumping In Tsomoriri but it did not diminish our thirst. The ochre, brown, black and dark grey mountains, white sands and yellow boulders, the dark blue sky, its even darker reflection in Tsomoriri, and the realisation that we are in an area that few people have strayed off llu1 beaten track for exploration, couldn't take our minds off our Inconvenient thirst. It worsened when, full of hope, we approached S furze-lined channel, only to find it bone dry. 4 kms before Karzok, chorten walls started to appear, and^just when we thought we reached the nook where we felt Karzok would be, we left the lake shore and climbed 130 rn to a chorten dotted la. From here we were dismayed to see that Karzok was still 3 kms away. As a palliative we could see much more of the Tso, which under the setting sun was coloured an unbelievable, heavenly, deep blue. The effect was further heightened by the effulgent gold coloured mountains surrounding it.

Trudging over sand and scree, the yellow of which contrasted strikingly with the blue of the lake, we topped another la. Here las are so numerous and ordinary that they would not be noticed if it were not for the mane walls, chortens, prayer flags and votive offerings heaped there. Karzok was still 2 kms away, and we could see more evidence that the lake was drying up. Many sand bars were spreading their tentacles far into the lake from the east and west. In the not too distant future, these arms of sand spreading from the east and west will meet.

Our camp was in a field below the gompa next to the Karzok phu. Karzok is linked by a very rough truckable road to Mahiye, 55 kms away on the Indus. It has about 70 mud and stone houses, but most of them were vacant as their occupants had left with their sheep, goats, and horses. Most of them are still nomads though many of them, seduced by the attractions opened up by the road, are trying to lead a more settled life. Their biggest pasture, Karzok Maidan, is 2 km upstream of Karzok phu. This is where the real Karzok is. It is a 20 sq. km meadow, in the centre of which, on a hillock, stands an 8 m high chorten. All this is encircled by another strip about a km wide of sand and scree. Dotting this vast plain ,ire pits bordered by short retaining walls on which only a sheet has to be put to convert this space into a comfortable wind proof shelter. The Karzok phu which flows out of its SE periphery has small fish here. These are known as Ngya, which explains why there were many seagulls here. To the SW stretch the Mata peaks, and over to the NW are two passes to Lahul of about equal height, one with a glacier, and the other bare. The same ridge continues to the north where a peak of more than 6000 m stands almost In the middle of a vast icefield stretching from 5400 to about 5700 in. This is not the Rupshu Ice-Cap, though it looks very much like Its Icefields. This solitary ice-cap is separated from the Pangpolungpa liy the Gyang barma stream, which flows to its north and rises from o small glacier tucked across the bare ridge on the NW corner of (he Maidan. This Gyang barma flows into the north of Tsomoriri nt'.ir Peldo. This ice-cap is on the southern side of the ridge and did not have any effluent. The formation of this ice-cap to the south was perplexing. We had observed that all accumulations of snow were on the northern and eastern leeward sides. This lone exception was baffling to us.

The 400 year old Karzok gompa was the most unpretentious and uninspiring gompa I have ever seen. All the gompas I have seen so far are daring, multi-storeyed structures reaching skyward and built on the most prominent projection near a habitation. Not so Karzok gompa. It was not the most dominant strucuture there. It merged with the moderate sized houses of the village. And it was being renovated. With its upper floor's roof off, it looked stunted. Yet it attracted such reverence and awe that about a hundred Changpas and Tibetan refugees were donating their labour for a week. Every week a new batch moves in, and every participant keeps this appointment no matter in what distant grazing ground his sheep and goats may be. Karzok means built by donation. The unpretentious, sprawling, Karzok gompa was built in the 15th century by the labour and donations of all the Changpas. In 1993 we observed the same unquestioned sacrifice replacing the old gompa with a new one. Absence from such community work in the past would mean shackles and a fine that was paid in kind. Nowadays, with a truck bringing material for construction the fine is in hard cash.

After two days spent in recceeing the area and getting to know the Karzokites (which meant playing volleyball, filling a questionnaire, and drinking chang), we split up into two groups. One was to take depth readings of the northern portions of the Tso and visit places around Karzok. The other group was to climb Mata and visit the Pangpolungpa.

In 1984 when we had stayed only to the south of the twin summits of Mata, we had thought that all around their summits the snow would be as scarce as on their southern faces. On our walk to Karzok we noticed how wrong our assumption was. Behind them swooped an arc-shaped corniced ridge feeding below it several small glaciers and a snow filled cwm that lay till about 5000 m. This we discovered on our walk to Karzok. The corniced ridge connected the Matas with a peak a kilometre to its north, that was higher by about 50 m. The south facing wall of this cwm, was completely bare, and it was formed entirely of crumbling detritus. The higher of the Matas had a corniced crown on the NE side of its summit. So much snow was unexpected.

How had this snow accumulated? I think that the reason is the wind. It blows for about half the time in a south to north and west to east direction. That is why the southern and western parts of the Tsomoriri mountains are bare. As one proceeds east into Rupshu, the wind is fiercer, and the mountains, even the higher ones, have much less snow. Thalda Kurmi (6666 m) and other summits on the eastern shore of Tsomoriri have very little snow, and have gentler sides unlike the steep and crumbling faces of Mata. This wind, I believe, is also the reason for the formation of the three icefields of the Pangpolungpa, which stretch from east to west. These icefields cover about a 5-7 sq. kms area and reach a height of about 5700 m. During the trek we were buffeted by excessively sharp winds, especially at night. These winds always blew from south to north and from west to east. The aluminium supports of some of our tents had bent even at 4500 m. Our fibre glass tent poles often used to be flattened out.

From the lake at Karzok we noticed that the route to the peak higher than Mata was a lengthy traverse from the north or an equally lengthy one after climbing Mata I. We decided to climb the Mata we knew.

Our route to Mata II (6281 m) was by the north east ridge. The north face was very steep, long and had blue ice. We established three camps. The route was over scree, moraine and loose rocks till C2. About 200 m below Cl were some traces of furze, and shepherds came that far. C2 was at the northern edge of the cwm, and our route from here went down to the bowl (5500 m), and then up a terrible rock slide, 200 m of which was brimming with loose rocks. This was the only part of the climb that gave us a few anxious moments. This cwm was drained to the east by fast flowing, glacial streams, but their combined waters never reach the Tso till late evening.

The Mata range is bordered on the south by the approximately 65 km long Phirse fu, and about 30 kms later, to the north by the 20 km long Gyang barma. It is I think the second longest range in the Rupshu. The longest, and the widest, is the one that has the Thalda Kurmi peaks.

From C3 we could see all of Tsomoriri — from its southern shore to the northern. The existing map's outlines of the Tso have to be corrected considerably. The lake's 6 km long southern shore is no longer full of long inlets as shown in the 1:50,000 Survey of India map. The southern bank has dried to such an extent that it Is practically straight. At its SE end there is a three km long and 1 km wide projection with two islands near the eastern bank. The more northern of these islands has surfaced after 1976, for it is not on the map. From our Valkyrie we could discern the gradual slope of the dry bed by the difference in colour between the bed and surrounding desert. The dry bed had greyish stones, while sand and yellowish stones bordered them. To the north the lake appears to have shrunk. The dried bed here is of sand with grass growing in patches. Explorers in the 19th century had mentioned Peldo being on the ncMhejn shore of the Tsomoriri. Not any more. It is about 1.5 kms away from the northern shore. In the late 19th century the length of the Tso was measured to be 27 kms. I estimate it to be about 24 kms today.

Of Tsomoriri itself we could never have enough. In mist and sunshine, at sunrise and sunset, from level grounds and from 1500 m above, its colour and shade would keep changing. From grey to an unbelievable blackish blue, and from resplendent gold at sunrise to a delicate pink and crimson at sunset. At a height of 4581 m it is the highest lake of such dimensions in India. Tsomoriri receives only three perennial rivers — one of them Phirse fu had ditched it this year by flowing into the Pare Chu — and six temperamental ones that flow only in June, July and August. The other 2 that replenish the Tso's waters are the Karzok phu to the NW, the Gyang barma to the N. The streams of the eastern shore flow for 3 to 4 months or so. They are Skyolong Lungpa, Pungyado phu, Lungzir (Lenakserma) and Umlung, which is also a grazing ground by that name nearby. From here a path leads to Lenak la and Hanle via Chagarchan la (4993 m). Past Karcha nala by the lake's side is a spring called Namakangjik Chumik, which flows for about five months. Near the SE corner of the Tso is a bay enclosed by a hill which looks like the snout of a crocodile the top of which is like a table land 4732 m high. This feature is called Karzomik, which means a walled enclosure. The Tso remains completely frozen for about 4 months, and it starts cracking up in early May. The aged Changpas remember it as being frozen from late October to early June corroborating Drew's and Strachey's accounts. The 1:50,000 scale map shows beyond Uti la the existence of a spring called Tarathungsa and a stream called Shakung lungpa. In 1984 they were dry. Anyone attempting this route to Lam Tso and Hanle should be particular about carrying sufficient water. In September 1993 Chetan Bhattacharji, one of our members, returned to Tsomoriri. He visited the eastern shore. The mountain sides were not as rough and crumbling as those on the western shore. There was no water at all till near Karzomik, and yet he came across more diverse plant life on this side than the Tedungma on the hills above the western shore.

From C3 the peak was climbed in 2 hours on a fine morning. I did not climb the peak on account of a troublesome knee cap, but 17 others did. It was an easy climb. From the peak the view covered a sea of summits stretching, from Nun Kun to the W-NW, past a myriad unnamed, unexplored, and unclimbed ones to Gya in the south. Eastward from here the peaks decrease, and small ranges dot the way till the horizon, which is well in Tibet. Studying the photographs taken by my son, Chetan, I found that the lake Tso Kum in the Phirse valley had much more water than in 1984, and that there were many more peaks on the Tsarap Lingti — Phirse fu ridge than indicated in the 1:50,000 SOI sheet. In 1984 I had wrongly identified this valley as Latek in a panorama fold out accompanying my article in the Himalayan Journal Vol. 41. This error was based on misinterpretation of information gleaned with great difficulty from some taciturn Changpas at Kiangdom. 30 kms to the north the view was dominated by a Kula or Chalung (6546 m), a striking triangular peak above the Tazang Tso (4670 m). This peak was higher than other peaks in its vicinity by a ridge and several shoulders. There is a small range containing four similar wind-shaped peaks 6305, 6275, 6135 and 6065 m SE of it. Kula appears to be part of this ridge, but is actually separated by a dry river bed from its lower neighbours. This peak, I think, marks the northern end of the endless spaces of Rupshu desert and the beginning of a contrasting one. From the Namshang la (Kiagr la of old maps), 4845 m, which is on its shoulder, a completely different terrain starts. It is a narrow, boulder congested corridor of unrelieved monotony, except for two brief diversions provided by the open places — Puga Sumdo and Mahiye.

One beautifully burnished gold evening I was returning slowly from Tsomoriri one and a half kms away from Karzok when I saw a droning cloud of dust approach. It was a truck bringing cement and girders for the gompa; pipes for a water supply system from a spring to the rest house, bidis (local cigarettes), matches and liquor! The last three fetch a 200% profit and are given priority over food. Progress has begun chipping away insidiously at Karzok's entrails. After plans of opening the north end of Tsomoriri to tourists were announced many young people have started dreaming of being guides and one has already become an apprentice in Leh. It's good economics, but once the avalanche of tourists starts who will protect Rupshu's and more especially Tsomoriri's fragile ecology?

Tsomoriri, not Tso Morari, is the right word for the lake. We carefully heard the pronunciation of a lot of people before asking for its origin. The myth is that a chomo's (nun) yak took her into the lake inspite of her saying ri, ri, which means turn back. Tso Morari is just a distortion that has somehow got accepted by surveyors and geographers beginning with Drew, Strachey and Cunnigham in the 19th century.

Ever since a rough road reached Karzok to the north of Tsomoriri more people have been visiting the northern portion than ever before. Some government officials have also been posted there. Realising that there is economic advantage and promise of a better future in this new link, 'which has brought Leh within a day's travel, many nomadic Changpas are also settling down in Karzok. From our survey we noticed that many families had given up polyandry for monogamy.-A sound improvement, but it also means that the population is certain to increase. In 1873 there were 500 Changpas, and in 1984 there were a similar number. This time according to the 1991 census Rupshu has more than 2000 permanent residents. Many Tibetan refugees have also settled down in the northern areas. Rupshu is not able to support so many. The pressure on the only vegetation that grows there — the Tedungma bush — has increased. People are cutting it down and hoarding it in much larger numbers than before, for they know that if they don't, someone else will. This bush keeps the soil together. With it gone, the soil is whipped up by the furious wind and eventually settles down in the lake's bed. With this accelerating siltation and the earlier pace of evaporation the lake is naturally shrinking rapidly.

Francis Drew mentions an island about half a mile from the western shore, north of Karzok. The minimum depth recorded was 12 ft about 20 yds from the northern shore of the island. Now there is no island here. There has been one for some years on the NE of the lake, close to Peldo, and this has water to the depth of 4 ft only all around it. This island, named Letse by the Changpas, is 61 m by 25 m approximately. We visited this island and found hundreds of sea gulls, brahminy ducks and bar-headed geese. The last two are on the list of 60 species marked as endangered in India. The nesting season of these birds is from late June to July. We rowed to the island and agitated the birds immeasurably. While the bar-headed geese flew or waddled away into the lake, most of the sea gulls clustered around their young and eggs while the rest kept buzzing us. There were eggs all over the island. Some eggs of the bar-headed geese hatched in front of us. This island falls in the zone that has been opened to tourists from 1994. For tourists a visit to this island will be a must, and within a short time these birds will desert this part of Rupshu's skies for safer pastures elsewhere.

We were to return via Nakopogoding la (5487 m) and Puga to Mahiye bridge. Now that a road ran down most of the way, we were not keen to be overtaken by clouds of dust and diesel fumes. We rode back through magnificent territory, which but for the pestilential internal combustion engine we would have been walking over. We went past a light blue coloured Thazam Tso, not Kiagr Tso, as it has so far been referred to. It rjas an area of about 60 sq kms, and is shaped like a clenched fist. It has two springs on its E and S, and fine, troublesome yellow sand all around it. On its east were gently moulded hill sides that rose to a flat plain at the height of 5640 m. Beyond these rose the four peaks I had mentioned earlier. Across the wide beach to the SW of the tso soared a massive, rugged and fissured grey wall topped by a thick layer of ice, which seemed to have been poured over it. This was a part of the Pangpolungpa. The Thazam Tso could be a suitable base camp for exploration and climbing in this region. From here looking south the impression one gets is of immense space. The high mountains, even Gya and Thalda Kurmi did not rise more than 8 and 15 degrees above the horizon. But as soon as one crosses Namshang la (4845 m), wrongly shown as Kiagr la in some maps, we are in a narrow dry defile, and do not come out of these cramped surroundings till we have passed Hemiya on the Indus about a 100 kms away. There were many other striking features which we ooh-ed and ahh-ed about, despite 35 (21 members, our 10 porters, and 4 Changpas) of us being tossed about like balls of wool in the backside of a 3-tonner. For any would be visitors to Karzok I would recommend starting their venture from Karzok, unless they want to see the desolate Pare chu. From Karzok, horses or yaks can be obtained quite cheaply. There's much in Rupshu that is still to be explored like climbing, traversing and crossing the hulk of the Thalda Kurmi and the plains and peaks to the south of Lenak la bordering Tibet, and exploring the sources of the enigmatic Phirse fu.

Months after our return I had not got over Rupshu's compulsive attraction. I am planning to visit Rupshu from Lahul, before dhabas sprout on that route.

----------------------SUMMARY---------------------

A visit to a remote part of southeast Ladakh, Rupshu, by an Indian group led by the author in June 1993. They trekked from Spiti to Rupshu via Takling la (5274 m), visited Tsomoriri lake (4512 m) and climbed Mata II (6281 m).

 

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