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We crossed the plain, and slowly wended our way up the pass. Near the top we came to a track, the highway from Ladak to Lhassa via Gartok, along the northern side of the Rakastal, Mansarowar, and Gunkyo lakes. On the pass itself were planted several poles connected by ropes, from which flying-prayers waved gayly in the breeze. Obos, or mounds of stones, had been erected.
Gunpowder was so scarce that they seldom practised firing at a target. At sunrise the view of Gunkyo was magnificent, with the snow-covered mountains tinted gold and red, and reflected in their smallest detail in the still waters of the lake. We loaded our yaks, the Tibetans giving us a helping hand, and started toward the Maium Pass, following a river which throws itself into the Gunkyo Lake.
In fact, they could not conceal their amazement at my having got so far into their country with only two men. After giving my visitors some little presents, we parted in a friendly manner. Before us, on the other side, some two thousand feet lower, was a large stretch of flat land. I could see a lake, which I took to be the Gunkyo.
We went across the plain until we came to a hill range, which we crossed over a pass 17,450 feet high. Then, altering our course, we descended and ascended several hills, and at last found ourselves in the sheltered grassy valley of the large Gunkyo Lake, extending from south-east to north-west.
He offered to show me the way to the Gunkyo Lake, and was so pressing that I accepted. When I saw the two hundred soldiers mount and follow us, I remonstrated with him, saying that if we were to be friends we did not need an army to escort us. "If you are our friend, you can come alone, and we will not injure you," I gave him to understand.
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