by Marco Pallis
Our guide realized that he had lost his way and was much distressed; Tsethar also was much disturbed and began complaining that none of us had any definite idea about the way we ought to take; he added that he was sure that by now the rest of the refugees would have been rescued by the Resistance soldiers. I told him that we had no evidence of this and that I had been trusted to lead our party and we were all doing our best.
Next morning we followed a small track running across the shoulder of the mountain in front of us, which pointed in the direction of India. It sloped gently upward and was an easy walk. Unfortunately the land was very bare without trees or rocks, so I was afraid that our large party would be seen. Toward evening we noticed some small rocky mountains with a high range of snow-covered peaks behind them. People did not know what to think, some suggested that they were the mountains of Upper, others of Lower, Kongpo. As we mounted higher and higher the snow on the mountains reflected the dying sun and looked as if made of gold. We were afraid that if we went farther we would be on yet higher ground, so we camped for the night. The frost was severe; there were no streams and our only water came from melted snow. Added to this we were limited in our use of fires, partly for the fear that they would be seen and also because of the difficulty of finding anything to burn. The next day we discovered that the track we had been following only led to the snow mountains which were not in the right direction, so we changed course and descended by a steep slope. Ahead of us we saw a pleasant-looking valley with a river winding through it. There was some consternation in the camp when a black object was seen near the river which people thought was a man. Their uneasiness went so far that they imagined they heard voices. However, looking through my field glasses I could see that it was only a young yak, though there might well be a herdsman with it; even so, there was nothing to be done except to continue our downward course, for if we had stayed on the mountain we would have been still more conspicuous. We made our way through squat willows and found an empty hut. All who could went inside, while the rest of the party lay down in the open. Some of the younger members organized a scouting expedition in the evening; there appeared to be no one about.
Some of the refugees were getting very short of food and came to ask me how long I thought it was likely to be before they would be able to renew their stocks. I had to explain that it was unlikely to be soon and they must ration themselves very strictly. They carried on for about a week and then came again to ask me if my party could spare some of their rations; unfortunately we had not much left, for the going had been so difficult that we had only been able to cover short distances each day. By now our guide had completely lost his bearings; he had no idea where we were, but we continued more or less blindly and after crossing several more ranges found ourselves in a large valley on quite low ground which we thought would probably be inhabited. It was decided that I should go on ahead with Akong Tulku, Yak Tulku, Yönten, and our guide and if we found a possible way, we would signal to those behind. It was a great relief when we found that the valley was apparently empty. However, we did come across traces of dung and men’s footprints; Yönten and the guide thought they might be about twenty-four hours old. We consulted among ourselves about the next step to be taken, but no one had any positive suggestion. The party behind waited and watched us as we came back toward them. A lot of people wanted us to halt and make tea, but I thought this too dangerous, so we went on down the valley. After going about halfway down it we saw a mountain, its slopes thickly covered with pines; I suddenly felt sure that this was the way we should go, though Tsethar was not of my opinion; he thought that to go ahead on the chance would be most impractical. However, we all started to climb the slope, but when we had gone a mile or so Tsethar and several others suggested that it would have been much better to have continued along the valley. They grumbled that they had had no tea and were feeling tired, and now they were having to struggle up yet another mountain. I tried to explain that the valley they wished to follow led away from the direction of India, and it was also obvious that there were people living in these parts. Tsethar and the others were so annoyed that they began to argue with me. I told them, “If you want to go along the valley, you had better do so; in which case I can take no further responsibility for you. I myself am going up this mountain and when we reach a more remote spot we can stop and make tea.” Some of the refugees shouted, “Yes! That is the right thing to do” and finally they all decided to follow me. I understood how desperately tired everyone was feeling, yet I was confident that we must go this way. Personally, I felt a strange exhilaration traveling through such wild and unknown country; an inner strength seemed to sustain me. We walked on until we got above the pine level; here there was dense scrub, so that we lost our track again and again. It was a matter of battling through the undergrowth; those who had swords slashed their way through. Finally all of us reached the bare rocky mountainside beyond the scrub. In the distance, we heard sounds which seemed either to come from explosions and the rumbling of lorries, or, as some of the party thought, they might be sounds of actual fighting. On the farther side of the mountain we came to a dry valley. Since the decision to come this way had been entirely mine, our guide turned to me and asked where we should make for next. There were three gaps in the valley and he wanted to know which one we should choose. I said, “the middle one,” and when asked for my reasons I replied, “One had to be chosen”—I added the two Tibetan sayings, “A doubting mind will not fulfill one’s wish,” and “Two needles cannot sew at the same time.” As we went through the gap I saw a cairn by the side of it; this cheered me, for it showed that others had gone this way before. Farther on we suddenly felt a cold wind and found ourselves on the top of a cliff overlooking a lake which had black and red rocks reflected in it. My determination to take this way had not lessened and actually we found that the going was not too difficult, for we were able to move from rock to rock till we reached the farther side where we found tracks of wild animals. We now stopped for the night trying to screen our fires; however, it was impossible to disguise them from the sky and an airplane actually flew over. To add to my troubles I was told that one of the older men was very feeble; his relations were supporting him and other refugees carried his baggage. Beyond the lake the ground was flat and open, but ahead there lay a range of mountains, so that we were again faced with an arduous climb to a col, following tracks of hooves. Here the snow was deeper; we had to revert to the method we used over the previous high pass, with eight men again crushing down the snow under the weight of their prostrate bodies, though this time the gradient was not so steep as before. From the summit Tsepa thought that things looked more hopeful, we could again see far-distant ranges in a southerly direction which we thought must be on the farther side of the Brahmaputra. Our present position, however, was anything but an easy one. The ground sloped downward to a small depression and then rose again to an even higher range. Again we were faced with having to force our way through with the help of the eight men. This second climb proved to be very steep and I was exceedingly worried about the weak old man. We decided that he must be given more food, though our own resources were already so slender; it helped him to carry on. I looked forward to reaching the top of the col, since our guide had been so sure that we were traveling in the right direction; but when we arrived there, it was only to see that we were surrounded by ranges, all under snow. Sounds of distant lorries or explosions were no longer to be heard. We appeared to be at the end of a range; the ground in front of us led steadily downhill to a series of lakes almost below snow level, though there were scattered patches of snow all around. We stopped to rest by one of the lakes and I looked through my field glasses at the valley beyond. It was very broad with a river winding through it between meadows and patches of pines, but I did not see any people there. Our guide thought that we must be somewhere near Tsela Dzong, the junction of the Upper Kongpo River and the Brahmaputra. I knew that the district would be likely to be dangerous, espec
ially if we took the wrong pass, for this part of the country was certainly both more thickly populated and under fairly complete Chinese occupation; we had heard that the Communists were trying to indoctrinate the inhabitants which meant that some could not be entirely trusted. I asked the others for their opinion and they all agreed that if we were really near Tsela Dzong the wide valley would be very unsafe, so it would be better to turn eastward toward Lower Kongpo. We therefore decided to go a little farther down the mountain and then veer round to a southeasterly course; this meant a longer route and led through a good deal of scrub. It brought us eventually to a series of valleys which we had to cross, a matter of continually scrambling up- and downhill for about a week.
EIGHTEEN
Touch and Go!
THOUGH I HAD frequently impressed upon all members of our party that they must inform me about any particular difficulties, I had been given no warning of an emergency, until some of them came to tell me that several of them had run out of food. They were actually beginning to boil the leather of their yak-skin bags; usually this leather is roughly cured with much of the fat left in it so it has some food value. I made enquiries among other groups and found they were having to do the same thing. The people had not wanted to worry me, since they knew that I had so many other grave anxieties.
At the same time we again lost our bearings and went too far in a northeasterly direction, which compelled us to retrace our steps for three days. Tsepa’s belief that we were near Tsela Dzong had evidently been wrong. We now followed a small valley running east until it also turned in a northerly direction and we had to leave it for another leading toward the south. Again there were more mountain ranges in front of us; the nearest ones were not very high and we were able to cross two each day for three days, but after this we were faced with much higher ridges each of which took more than a day’s traveling to cross.
By this time many more of the refugees had consumed their last provisions, except for their leather bags and my own group had decided that they too must fall back on this fare, though some leather would have to be kept to build the coracles needed to cross the Brahmaputra, which meant we would have to go on very short commons meanwhile; it was now early November and there were no wild vegetables which could be used as a supplement. In spite of all their troubles the party was still cheerful and as soon as they found themselves in sufficiently remote places everyone would laugh and sing and individual groups would join with the monks in devotional chanting. They all seemed to have become acclimatized to the routine of traveling and the daily hardships.
Previously the weather had been good and usually sunny, but now winter was beginning with storms of rain turning into snow. It was taking longer to cover any distance over these high mountains and looking back we could often see the spot where we had camped the evening before. One day, after reaching the summit of a col, as we walked down on the farther side we could see open country with a broad river flowing through it which we thought must be the Brahmaputra. The landscape was clouded in smoke, but through my field glasses I could see Chinese lorries moving along the road beside the river. This came as a shock to all of us, for we had not known that there was a roadway through Lower Kongpo. Tsepa thought that this time we really must be near Tsela Dzong, where the river is too wide to be crossed using the limited means at our disposal; besides there was a large Chinese establishment there and a great many inhabitants. We were still traveling by day though taking great precautions. The land was much lower here and there were many secluded valleys where we could camp, so traveling was easier. People crossing these mountains had often built tall cairns to indicate the track; some of these from a distance looked alarmingly like human figures. As we turned farther to the east, being still on high ground, we could see a number of villages beside the Brahmaputra; in the evenings lights were visible; they seemed to be brighter than house lamps and we took it for granted that they were the headlights of Chinese vehicles. Our guide said that we were near Temo Monastery; he recognized the bend of the Brahmaputra. Therefore we would still have to keep to the mountains for a time, and moreover if we followed the bends of the river the distance would be much increased; in any case we would not be able to light fires in the daytime, and only at night by using great care to conceal them by digging holes in the ground. By now we were feeling the shortage of food very acutely and came to the conclusion that we must try to find a shorter route. We thought that where we now were was too dangerous, so we retreated to a more remote area. Now we mostly had to travel between sunset and midnight, for there were few bushes or any sort of cover. Our guide was bewildered again and led us over col after col. The old man who had been so ill before finally dropped down and died; his son had done all possible to help him and had even carried his father over the worst passes. Suddenly another old man felt too exhausted to walk farther and insisted on going down to one of the villages. He promised not to divulge our whereabouts nor to tell anyone about the escaping party.
The landscape was beginning to change to more rocky and bare ground. We came across local tracks which we had to avoid and it was often difficult to find a suitable place to camp. Most of the party were showing signs of extreme fatigue, but all the same they kept up their spirits. After several more crossings on high ground Tsepa realized that we were approaching the Temo Pass on the Powo-to-Lhasa road. This meant that we must cross the road at the top of the pass and, in order to reach it, we must travel through the night. All the way lay under snow and it was impossible to avoid leaving tracks; unfortunately we could not reach the pass that same night and were forced to camp in the bitter cold hiding our fires with the greatest caution. Next evening we started off again; there were many animal tracks, but owing to the snow no people were traveling. At twilight we could see the pass beneath us, but we had to wait till it became dark and from our concealed position we watched and listened carefully for any possible travelers on the road. Though the snow was lying on the mountainside, the road itself was clear and we were able to cross it without mishap, though a man and horse must have passed earlier in the day, for their prints could be clearly discerned.
I had told everyone to walk in single file so that our tracks would not appear to belong to a very large party. We now needed to hurry on as quickly as possible to find somewhere where we could be concealed before daybreak; unfortunately the land here was very bare with little scrub and lay mostly under snow; it would have been easy for anyone to follow us, so we left a man to keep watch behind us and sent another scout ahead. The land was undulating and when we reached the higher places we could see for miles around, but the only thing to catch the eye was the track that we had made. Again we turned aside and found higher mountains in front of us, which appeared to be wild and uninhabited, so we could again travel by daylight. From the time that we crossed the road all the party had made a special effort to walk quickly; tired though we all were, we could not afford to stop and a few short rests taken at intervals had to suffice; the fact that everyone was on short commons made the strain all the greater. The all-important thing was to conserve our energies for the critical moment when we would have to cross the main Chinese high road and, after that, the Brahmaputra. After several more days’ traveling our guide again lost his way and we could only guess our direction. As we went we were faced with continuous ranges of mountains and valleys; there seemed no way to get through.
It has been mentioned before that people who were unable to carry all their own baggage often arranged for a stronger man to take the extra load by promising him half its contents at the journey’s end. My own group now felt that they must fall back on their reserve of tsampa: To our dismay, we found that the man who had been carrying it had not only consumed his own share, but ours as well, and the same thing had happened in several other cases. Nevertheless, no one ever attempted to kill any of the wild animals that we came across in our wanderings; this compassionate self-control displayed by a whole band of desperately hungry people moved me grea
tly at the time, and it remains a treasured memory of those heart-searching days.
We were now quite lost, surrounded by rocks on every side; there was nothing left for me to do except to resort to takpa. The question that faced us was which rocks to choose for our next climb. Following the directions given by the takpa and after climbing the particular rock it indicated we saw a high mountain with a col on its shoulder. The snow was very deep and the sun dazzled us, but fortunately most of the party carried either dark goggles or eyeshades. Actually, the climb up was easier than the rough ground we had been crossing before, where we had had to jump from rock to rock; but the descent on the farther side to a lower level was very steep and there seemed no indication where to go next. It was again left to me to make a decision, so I headed for a small lake surrounded by rocky ground which we bypassed only to find ourselves confronted by three other ranges with rather steep cols leading gradually to lower ground. After this another line of mountains loomed ahead with a pass across which did not appear to be too steep. Tsepa and I always went ahead to direct the party and when we reached the top of this last pass we were amazed to see the Szechwan-to-Lhasa main road running along the mountainside below, less than a quarter of a mile away. I told everyone not to make any noise and to wait until I could find somewhere where we could all be hidden. This was not difficult on the boulder-covered ground, so when everyone else was safely under cover Tsepa and I went out to investigate our surroundings. Through field glasses we could see the road leading through the Serkyem Pass, which was actually the point that we had been aiming for; once across it we knew we would be very near Lower Kongpo and the spot where we should try to cross the Brahmaputra.
When we returned to the others we found them all preparing for this, the most dangerous part of our journey. The older people were nervous, fearing that traveling on the south side of the river would prove too much for them and that, should they fall out by the roadside, the Chinese would be bound to find them and through them would trace the whole party. I told them that we must all cross over the road at the Serkyem Pass together and that the younger ones must carry the luggage to enable the older people to walk more quickly. If a Chinese lorry should come along when they were about to cross, everyone must lie down in the fosse beside the road and make no movement. We waited till dark before approaching the road, but when we were some twenty yards away from it we suddenly saw the headlights of a lorry. Fortunately there were a lot of rocks close at hand behind which we all ducked. I had to be very severe with one woman who, to help herself control her fear, was chanting mantras in a loud voice; I told her that she must only whisper under her breath. Since the road went in loops round the mountain we had time to take cover while the lorry was still some distance away; as it came nearer and nearer we could hear the crunching sounds of its gear changes and soon its headlights illuminated the very rocks where we lay concealed. We held our breaths and the minutes seemed like hours, but eventually the lorry passed out of sight and earshot. Just as we were on the point of getting to our feet for the dash across—one man was actually standing up—we heard the noise of a second lorry. As it came near we heard the Chinese talking in highpitched and, as it seemed to us, excited voices; I was afraid it was because they had seen us; however, all was well and the lorry passed by. After a silence of about five minutes we all walked together across the road leaving two men to brush out our footsteps. On the farther side the ground was still rocky but became smoother as we worked our way down the valley; the air also felt much warmer. The discipline observed by everyone was beyond all praise; they looked very serious and no one spoke a word. After some three miles we turned into a side valley which was thickly wooded. We could still see parts of the road and would have been able to spot any approaching headlights; however, there seemed to be no further traffic on it. We walked upward through the valley to cross a pass in the mountains. The nun, who was the sister of the chöpön of Yak monastery, now completely broke down both physically and mentally; it would have been too dangerous for the whole party if we had stopped for her, so we gave her what little food we could spare and then left her: It was a horrid decision to have to take—it left a guilty feeling—but the safety of the whole party allowed of no other alternative. Generally speaking, the older refugees, by walking in a measured pace, had managed to save their energy for this especially dangerous time and they now walked in front, while it was the younger ones who lagged behind. I was feeling very exhausted myself; both Akong Tulku and Yak Tulku did their best to cheer me. The latter, however, was getting worn out by this continual going up and down mountains; he kept saying to me, “Rinpoche, what do you think we shall find behind this one?” I could only answer, “I don’t know, perhaps we shall find a nice, warm, secluded valley.” At last to shut him up I said, “Probably we will find another still higher snow mountain.” That stopped him worrying.
