A JOURNEY FROM YARKAND TO THE KARA-TASH.

F. WILLIAMSON.

IN THE summer of 1928 I made a long official tour from Kashgar to Yarkand, Kliotan and Kerya. It was a great mistake to go in summer, as the maximum daily temperature was usually over a hundred degrees and no facilities for keeping cool, such as punkhas, exist in Chinese Turkistan. At the beginning of July I was back in Yarkand and, in order to get cool as much as to escape for a time from my work and official entertainments, I decided to cross the Kizil-tagh, or ⁴⁴Red Hills," and to spend a few days with Sherriff, the Vice- Consul, at Kaying-bashi, the ⁴⁴Happy Valley," which was discovered by Skrine in 1922.2

On the 8th July I left Yarkand and crossed the Kizil-tagh to Kichik Karaul in the Kin-kol valley, by the same route as that followed by Skrine in April 1923. Most of the baggage was sent to Kashgar by the main road and I only kept seven pack-ponies. The first three marches were hot and arid, and it was a great relief on the fourth day to get into real hills and among Kirghiz in the higher portions of the Kizil-tagh. I shall not describe this part of the journey, as it is impossible to improve on the description given by Skrine .f

Between the valleys of the Kin-kol and the Kara-tash there is a tract of country marked on maps 'unexplored," and in order to reach Kaying-bashi by a direct route it was necessary to cross it. Kichik Karaul is a tiny village of three or four houses at a height of about 6700 feet and, although the inhabitants were quite friendly, they professed to know very little about routes to the Kara-tash valley. One man told us that it was a single day's journey to Khan Terek, while several others said it was four marches, that ponies could not use the road, and that it was only passable by yaks. A chaffasi was sent five miles down the valley to bring the local yuzbashi or headman. When this worthy arrived he said it was an easy three marches.

About two hundred yards to the south of Kichik Karaul a broad stony valley, the Ordalung Jilga, leads westwards into the unexplored tract, which seems to be known generally as the Ordalung-tagh. We left Kichik Karaul, accompanied by the yuzbashi, at 8 A.M. on the 13th July. The Ordalung Jilga was about eight hundred yards wide at its mouth and very stony. After three or four miles we passed one or two deserted Kirghiz crofts and a good many toghraks or desert poplars. The valley then closed in and varied in width from one to three hundred yards; bare, brown waterless hills towered above us on either side. After about nine miles the valley again opened out and we camped at half-past eleven on a beautiful grassy plain at a height of 8756 feet. At this place, which was known as Chat, there were two deserted houses, while a few ponies were grazing near them. At this point the valley divides, the main Ordalung Jilga continuing westwards, while a shorter steeper valley, known as the Achik-su Jilga enters from the north. The yuzbashi appeared unwilling to commit himself by declaring which valley we should take to reach the Kara-tash, but he finally decided we should take the Achik-su Jilga. Late in the evening, however, a man named Said Akhun, whom we had found useful at Kichik Karaul, joined us. His verdict was that we should on no account go by the Achik-su Jilga, but should follow the Ordalung, which would lead us to a pass, called the Kizil Dawan, which, though not easy, was passable by ponies, while we could get yaks a little further up the valley to help with the loads. On the other hand, the Achik-su route was very difficult, only passable by yaks, and would entail the crossing of five passes.

The yuzbashi seemed so unreliable that we decided to take the advice of Said Akhun. The uncertainty and obstruction which we met is quite usual when one tries to cross country which has not been entered before by Europeans. Skrine encountered it when he first made his way to Kaying-bashi in the autumn of 1922. As soon as the Kirghiz get to know one and realize that one has no ulterior designs, they become quite friendly. On the 14th July we started up the Ordalung Jilga from Chat at a quarter to seven. It rained heavily in the morning and rained or hailed at intervals during most of the day, which was very unfortunate, as it became almost impossible to take satisfactory photographs. For five miles the track was easy and led up a very pleasant valley, the sides of which were rocky and precipitous, but had patches of grass here and there. A small clear stream flowed rapidly at the bottom. We then came to a terribly steep and narrow gorge, up which there was no track, and of which the bottom consisted entirely of stones, usually the size of a man's head. At the foot of the gorge we found a couple of Kirghiz felt tents or akois. The people seemed afraid of us and at first refused to hire us their yaks ; but by leaving a chajprasi and the yuzbashi behind and going on myself, nine yaks were quickly produced and to these the kit was speedily transferred.

After ascending the gorge for about two miles we came to a place whence we could see two akois perched on a grassy hill high above us. We therefore left the gorge and climbed the almost vertical grass slope towards them. This slope was intersected by sheep tracks, but owing to the rain it was very slippery and we were only able to climb it with difficulty. Through breaks in the clouds we had a wonderful view to the east down the Ordalung Jilga. As we arrived at the akois the rain turned to hail and it became very cold, but we were hospitably received by the old man and his wife, who gave us tea, ⁴⁴Devonshire cream" and bread.

To the west of this spot the country was steeply rolling and grassy, and was surrounded by forbidding black hills of slate and shale. After an hour's halt we climbed a steep grassy knoll, covered with snow and very slippery. From its summit we could see the Kizil Dawan straight ahead of us, apparently not much higher than we were. There were high mountains carrying a little snow to the south and south-west, and a small glacier lying in a high valley about three miles away to the south-west. The Ordalung Jilga was clearly visible to the east. The knoll was situated between two valleys, one half a mile to the south perhaps five hundred feet deep, the other the same distance to the north, perhaps twice as deep and with steep sides. The two valleys join at the place where we had hired the yaks.

From the knoll the track led down-hill to the south and southwest, across a broad grassy down about a mile wide, after which it turned north-west and ascended steeply for about 1500 feet to the Kizil Dawan. On the way we saw a number of snow-cock, which I failed to shoot. The ascent was not difficult, but as the height was 14,384 feet it was very tiring, especially as the weather was most unpleasant and the country covered in thick mist. I had hoped to be able to identify Kungur or some other fixed peak, but nothing of the kind was visible. To the north, the country looked arid and deeply intersected by valleys ; as far as I could see, it looked as if any track across it would be extremely difficult, and it is quite possible that Said Akhun's description of the Achik-su Jilga route was correct. At intervals, when the mist cleared slightly, I could see the plains of Kashgaria, but not for long enough to identify any known spot.

Continuing westwards from the pass we crossed a stony plain for about a mile and reached a second crest, after which the track dropped very gradually and the country became a very attractive rolling grass-land. We passed a pretty lake about a hundred yards in diameter, known as Kol-tuz, near which we saw hundreds of horses grazing. Here the ground was almost level and the higher hills receded to a distance. After a couple of miles of this plain, which is known as the Kol-tuz Yailagh, “the Summer Grazing ground of the Salt Lake,” we reached the upper slopes of a broad grassy valley, whose waters drained into the Pitlik Jilga, a tributary of the Kara-tash. The valley appeared to have no other name than Kol-tuz Yailagh. The country was delightful, covered with grass, while steep mountains rose to the south.' Large numbers of marmots were seen.

After a gradual descent of about a thousand feet we arrived at a point where a small tributary came in from the north and found three akois pitched on a level stretch of grass. Here we camped, having come about fifteen miles. The valley continued south-westwards, quickly becoming much steeper, and we could see a point, perhaps a mile away, where the pines began. Here at our camp at 12,970 feet, we were too high for them. The Khirghiz were somewhat startled at our arrival, but quickly became friendly and provided us with milk and mutton. Presents of cheap jewellery were much appreciated by them. The temperature dropped at night to 34° F. and it seemed very cold after the heat of the plains.

The next day, the 15th July, the weather was much better, although there was still a good deal of mist at times. I had hoped to follow the main valley into the Pitlik Jilga and to cross the Kara- tash river somewhere near the junction of the two. I was told however that this was impossible as there was now too much water in the Kara-tash. We therefore turned northwards for about a mile and a half, and crossed an easy pass of 13,500 feet, known as the Chilan- ning Dawan. On the north of this pass the country dropped very steeply to the Kara Chilan Jilga, and an even steeper track led up the other side of the valley to the Terek Kichik Dawan. From here one could reach the Terek Kichik Jilga, down which an easy track was said to lead the Kara-tash river. The Kirghiz with me wished me to take this route, but I preferred to follow the Kara Chilan Jilga and see where it debouched into the Kara-tash.

The Jilga was very steep, stony and winding. We passed four akois near its head, but found no sign of habitation or cultivation from there until we were within a mile of its junction with the Karatash, where were a few fields and one or two deserted crofts. The lower part of the Jilga is known as the Otarak Jilga, and we reached its mouth soon after one o 'clock after a march of about twelve miles. The Kara-tash river, which was three or four feet deep and swift, is here at about 7350 feet and is shut in by dry, brown and extremely steep hills. It took us two hours to get the baggage across, the Kirghiz constantly remarking that it would have been much better to have come down the Terek Kichik Jilga, which joins the Kara- tash a mile or less further down to the north. We camped in a grove of desert poplars and willows on the left bank.

The next day we had hoped to reach and camp at Kaying-bashi and were much looking forward to spending a week or so among pine- forests and friendly Kirghiz before returning to the heat of Kashgar. We followed the left bank of the Kara-tash for about a mile to the south, passing an interesting bridge at Bash Kupruk, which is only passable for foot-passengers and consists of parallel trunks of poplars roughly tied together, with no cross-pieces at all. We then ascended the stony bed of the Kaying Jilga for three hours until we sighted junipers and pines. Here we were met by a man with a prong gun, who was shooting chikor and was apparently looking for us. He told me that Sherriff had left Kaying-bashi the previous day after receiving a letter from Kashgar, and that he had left a note for me at Kaying-bashi. I wondered what could have happened. We went on another three miles to Kaying-bashi. The country was perfectly lovely, great snow mountains and pine-trees, but it continued to rain heavily and the view was usually blotted out by mist. The local Kirghiz were most friendly and hospitable and seemed to be really delighted to see me. Their attitude was a great contrast to that of the Kirghiz in the Ordalung Jilga, who evidently did not wish me to enter their valley.

I stayed at Kaying-bashi an hour and a half before the man to whom Sherriff had given his letter appeared. From this I learnt that the Governor of the province had been murdered at Urumchi and that Sherriff was hurrying back to Kashgar, intending to do the five marches in a day and a half. It was impossible to say what political complications would result from the murder, or indeed what complications had caused it. So I immediately turned back and followed the road by which I had come. After going three miles I met the baggage and we crossed the Chopkhana pass into the Chop- khana Jilga to the north, and pushed on to Kurghan in the Kara-tash valley once more, some eight or ten miles below the point where I had left it in the morning. The Kirghiz, both at Kaying-bashi and at Kurghan, could not have been more friendly. They remembered the Skrines with the greatest affection and constantly expressed their pleasure at receiving visitors from the British Consulate. Mrs. Skrine had made herself particularly popular with the Kirghiz ladies.

The next day I left very early. It was a bright sunny day with weather that would have been much appreciated on the three previous days. But now the lower part of the Kara-tash valley was very hot and trying. To avoid the river, which was too deep to ford, we crossed a continual succession of most unpleasant arid hills, where the air was like a furnace. We left the kit behind to follow us slowly and bivouaced that night in a disused garden near Tashmalik, reaching Kashgar the next morning.

Perhaps before closing my account of this journey I should make it clear that the track from Kichik Karaul to Otarak Aghzi is only open in summer, probably only from July to September. The only really difficult part is the ascent to the Kizil Dawan, which we would have found almost impossible for the baggage, if we had not been able to supplement our transport by hiring yaks.

SKETCH MAP TO ILLUSTRATE MR.WILLIAMSON'S ROUTE

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