To Lhasa In Disguise by Mcgovern

Author:Mcgovern [Mcgovern]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780710310606
Barnesnoble:
Publisher: Taylor & Francis
Published: 2004-01-08T00:00:00+00:00

The Trashi Lama

Shigatsé Procession with the Palanquin of the Trashi Lama

We did, indeed, meet a number of people on the road, but for the most part these were local travellers, and we met no one who was either going to or returning from Lhasa, for we had once more departed from the highway and were taking a short-cut. The official roadway from Shigatsé to Lhasa makes a long detour. Instead of following the Brahmaputra River, the couriers and most travellers go down from Shigatsé to Gyangtsé and then from Gyangtsé strike once more north-east to Lhasa. But I had no intention of passing through Gyangtsé again, and so we stuck to the short-cut, which for some extraordinary reason is very little used.

I had been so busy in Shigatsé trying to see and learn as much as possible that my stay there had given me very little real rest, and the excitement of the previous night had done me little good physically. As a result, not many miles after leaving Shigatsé I became so weary that I began to stumble in my tracks. Even “Satan” noticed how near I was to the end of my resources, and when we came to a long stretch where no one was visible he suggested that I ride the pony for a bit, while he walked. This sudden display of warm-heartedness on his part really surprised me, and I took it for an indirect apology for the rumpus which he had caused the preceding evening.

I gladly accepted his invitation, but it seemed as if some angry fate was against me, for I had scarcely gone a hundred yards when “London,” the ailing mule, suddenly succumbed. She had seemed much better for the rest and good food in Shigatsé, so that her sudden collapse was very unexpected. We had now lost three out of the six animals with which we had started, and we were still several days away from Lhasa. The load which our new donkey was carrying consisted largely of bundles which the two remaining mules were now too weak to bear, so there was nothing to be done except for me to climb down from my seat on the pony and to put the mule’s load on to his back, while all of us walked. We stood over the fallen mule for some time, trying to find out if anything could be done, but shortly after she died, her last act being to launch a vigorous kick at the syce’s shins. This had its required effect and the syce danced around in agony, so I think the mule must have died happy.

Thereafter our march continued for mile after mile without incident. The feeling that I had to get on kept me on my feet. Thick heads and swollen, thirsty tongues made the journey unpleasant for the others as well, but it was noon before we came to a halting-place. This consisted of a small farmer’s hut, one-storied and indescribably filthy, but we were

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