That evening it transpired that the pilgrims could not perform the pilgrimage in company, for every one of them declared his or her intention of performing as many circuits as possible during a stay of four or five days. Now the ordinary circuit—for there were three different routes—measures about fifty miles, which was more than I could perform in a day, even if I had wished to do as my companions had resolved, and they intended to undertake three circuits during the short stay; even the women wished to go round twice.

The pilgrims had to get up at midnight and to return to the tent at about eight in the evening, after having performed the arduous journey. I myself made rather elaborate preparations, and started on the holy journey carrying four or five days’ food on my back. The route I selected for my circuit was what was called the outermost circuit, and led me round a snowy peak resembling in shape a human image, believed here to be that of Shakyamuni, and around the lesser elevations rising about that peak. Those elevations were compared to the principal disciples of the Founder of Bu??hism. The route was indicated by a narrow track, but it was really a breakneck journey, for in several places the track went up to the summit of the central peak or to those of some of the elevations round it.

The middle route is more difficult of accomplishment, and the innermost route considerably more so. The last is therefore regarded as fit only for supernatural beings, and he who accomplishes twenty-one circuits round the outermost route obtains permission from the Lamas of the four temples, to go round the middle route. This circuit is to a large extent indicated by a more or less beaten track, but is so steep and dangerous that ordinary persons hardly ever dare to try it. Not unfrequently pilgrims who boldly attempt this most perilous journey are killed by snow-slips, while huge boulders obstruct their passage in several places. Since therefore this route is very rarely attempted by pilgrims, quite marvellous tales are told about it.

In front of the image are erected two ivory tusks about five feet high and very thick, and behind them I saw a hundred volumes of Tibetan Bu??hist works arranged on shelves. These books were not there for reading, but in order to receive as sacred objects the offering of the burning lamp.

This use of Bu??hist books is peculiar, though it is preferable to the outrageous treatment to which these books are sometimes subjected by impious priests, who do not scruple to tear out leaves and use them for various improper purposes.

After worship, I took from the pile a book that related to the Bu??ha Amitabha, read it, and then left the temple. Then began my journey through Nature’s Tabernacles, the first object in which was the ‘Golden Valley’.

The adjective ‘golden’ should not be taken in a literal sense, for gold is not found near this place. Rhetorically, however, the valley deserves this distinction, the scenery all round being really magnificent. There are several fantastic rocks of great size towering far into the sky, while beyond them peeps the snow-clad summit of the peak of Tise. And from the crevices and narrow grooves between those towering rocks shoot down several cascades as much as a thousand feet in height. There are quite a number of them, but only seven are really large. Those seven waterfalls have each a distinct individuality. Some shoot down with great force and look not unlike the fabulous dragon descending the rock, while others look milder and may be compared to a white sheet suspended over the rock. I sat down in rapture at the sight, and felt as if I had been transported to some heavenly place. There are to the left several falls and also a range of snow-capped peaks, but they are not to be compared in grandeur with those on the right, at which I had been gazing with extasy. This one sight alone, I thought, well repaid the labor of the journey. I wished to embody my sentiments in a few verses, but the inspiration would not come, and so I proceeded on my way, and soon emerged on the northern section of the Tise group. There I found another Lama monastery, which bore the quaint name of ‘Ri Ra Puri’ (meaning, ‘The place of the female yak’s horn’). It originated in a tradition that once, in ancient times, Gyrva Gottsang Pa, from Bhu?an, went round this natural Ma?dala in order to find his way in the wilderness. Whilst he was going to the mountain, he found a female yak which proceeded before him and led him on an untrodden path over the snows.

After finishing his route round the Holy Place, he arrived at this spot; the female yak concealed herself in a cavern, now in the temple, and accidentally one of her horns struck against a rock. It was believed by the Lama that the female yak was a disguised form of the mother of the Bu??ha named Vajra.

This ‘Yak’s Horn Temple’ ranks next to the first temple in respect to pecuniary income. It contains, however, a larger number of priests than the other, there being about fifteen, while the latter has only four.

It was towards dusk that I reached this temple, and I was allowed to lodge there for the night. The priest who appeared to be the senior man in the place was very kind to me and offered his own chamber for my use. It faced towards Mount Kailasa. My host told me that the view of the moon from this chamber was quite enchanting. He brought me a cup of tea with plenty of butter in it, for I had told him that I made it a rule to dispense with the evening meal. I spent a few pleasant hours with my host, who pointed out to me, on the south from the temple, the high majestic snow-covered peak of Mount Tise, representing the Bu??ha Shakyamuni; the three small snowy peaks before the mountain, he said, were the Bo?hisa??vas Manjushri, Avaloki?eshvara and Vajrapa?i; he then gave me a description in detail of other peaks, but I need not narrate here what he explained to me, for the account of the range is given in most works treating of Tibet and its geography.

That night I had one of the pleasantest experiences I remember during my expedition to Tibet: it was a pleasure of an elevating kind. My mind was subdued and captivated as I looked, in that still night and in that remote and far-off place, at the soft rays of the moon reflected on the crystal-like current that was flowing with a pleasant murmur. Just as, in the holy Texts, the soft breeze stirring the branches of trees in paradise is said to produce a pleasant note, that sounds to the ears of the happy denizens of that blissful abode like the voice of some one reading the Scriptures, so that sweet murmur of the moon-reflecting stream deluded my enchanted ears into believing that they were listening to the divine music of Bu??hism. Staying in that sacred place, and surrounded by such soul-subduing phenomena, my mind soared higher and higher, till it flew up to the eternal region beyond this world of woe and care. The holy Founder tells us that the most sacred region lies in one’s own pure mind, but I, sinful mortal as I was, felt elevated and chastened when I found myself in such an environment.

The next day I stayed at the temple and spent the time with great enjoyment. The following day I left the hospitable monastery and resumed my journey, which included the surmounting of a steep hill, known under the name of the ‘Hill of Salvation’. My host seemed to have had some spiritual affinity with me in a past life, so considerate was he in his behavior to me. For instance, he lent me a yak to carry me over the hill, and moreover gave me some articles of food and various delicacies. I took friendly leave of him, and then started on my journey on the back of the yak, which was led by a guide.

On the hill I came across many Tibetan pilgrims intent on displaying their religious zeal and piety, and their behavior more than ever convinced me that a strong fanaticism characterises the people of that land. Climbing alone was no easy task, and was one that strained even the sturdiest of legs, and yet I noticed several young pilgrims of both sexes performing the journey according to the ‘one-step-one-bow’ method, commonly adopted as a penance. As for me I felt greatly fatigued, though I was riding on the yak, for the atmosphere in that elevated region is very rare and was highly trying to my lungs. When I had ascended the hill for about five miles my respiration became very rapid and I was much exhausted. I therefore rested for awhile, and refreshed myself by taking some medicine. It was while I was taking rest that I noticed a burly fellow frantically confessing to and worshipping the snowy Tise.

My guide informed me that that man was a native of Kham, a place notorious as being a haunt of brigands and highwaymen. He really looked like a typical highwayman, with ferocious features and fierce eyes, and was performing his penance in a loud voice. He must have been a notorious figure even in that land of universal crime.

I was highly amused to find that this fellow was doing penance not for his past offences alone, but also to obtain immunity for any crimes he might commit in future. His extraordinary confession was something in this way: “O Saint Kang Rinpoche! O great Shakyamuni! O all Bu??has and Bo?hisa??vas in the ten quarters of the world and in the time past, present and future! I have been wicked in the past. I have murdered a number of men. I have taken a great deal that did not belong to me. I have robbed husbands of their wives. I have quarrelled ever so many times, and I have also thrashed people. Of all those great sins I repent, and so I solemnly perform my penance here on this hill for them. I believe that by this act of confession and repentance, I have been absolved from those sins. I also perform here penance for my prospective sins, for I may in future repeat them, may rob people of their goods and wives, or thrash and beat them.”

This fellow, I thought, was decidedly original in his conception of penance, and surpassed other sinners by performing a prospective repentance instead of, as in the ordinary method, confining himself to penitence for his past sins. Yet I was told that this convenient mode of repentance was universal in the robber district of Kham.

Our path next lay over a hill known as the hill of the Dolma-la, meaning the Pass of the Mother of the Savior. On ascending the hill one sees to the right a snowy range of the northern parts of Mount Kailasa, named in Tibetan Gyalpo Norjingi Phoprang, which means the “residence of King Kuvera”, the God of Wealth. The spot is very famous to Indians also; even in early times in India the great poet Kali?asa described this magnificent mansion with its immense views in his masterpiece of the Megha?u?a—The cloud-messenger. Seeing it, I said in my fancy: “Is it not really the mansion of the God of Wealth—that crystal abode shining in the emerald sky?” I mused furthermore that a mammon-worshipper will certainly one day explore that shining region, expecting to find a diamond mine. On the crest of Dolma-la stands a natural stone image of the Mother of the Savior. On the north-east of it a number of queer-shaped rocks and fantastic stones are to be seen, their points all looking like images. These were explained by my guide as twenty-one images of the Mother of the Savior. This crest of the hill is very high, and indeed does not appear lower in height than the top of Tise itself, the height of which is about 22,300 feet above sea-level. The air is therefore very rarefied and the temperature very low. Even when I remained quiet I felt the effect of the high altitude, for my heart beat rapidly and I suffered much pain. I thought that I should hardly have been able to perform the journey on foot, and that therefore I was deeply indebted to my host for lending me a yak to carry me over the series of hills. The Tibetan pilgrims did not seem to suffer to any particular extent from the effects of the rarefied atmosphere. They possess capacious lungs and can therefore climb any elevated hill without fatigue. Of course ordinary people, who do not possess lungs half as large as those of the Tibetans, can hardly expect to undertake this journey with so much ease. As it was, I felt very much exhausted, even though I did not walk on foot but rode on the yak. Near the foot of the hill I found a large pond which was entirely frozen over—a pond associated with an interesting legend. In ancient times, says that legend, the God of Wealth and his family used the water of this pond to wash their hands, for in those days it was not frozen in summer. Afterwards a woman pilgrim carrying a baby on her back came to the pond. As she bent over to wash her hands, the baby slipped off her back into the water and was drowned. The guardian deities of the place then consulted how to provide against such accidents, and they decided that the pond should be frozen over all the year around.

The descent is rather sharp, and it was uncomfortable sitting on the yak’s back, so I dismounted and trotted down after the animal.

At last we reached the eastern part of Tise and arrived at the Zun-tul phuk, which means the cave of miracles, founded by the hermit Jetsun Milaraspa, one of the most venerated saints in the Tibetan hagiology. Various interesting traditions are told about this saint, but these I need not give here, as they are too technical. I may say, however, that Milaraspa is said to have led a highly austere life, and that he did much to diffuse the true tenets of Bu??hism. He was also a great poet, the only poet who figures in the long history of Tibet. His biography therefore reads like a romance or a great epic, full of sublime conceptions. Milaraspa being such a unique personality in the history of Tibet, his name has attracted the attention of western explorers, and extracts from his poems have been translated. After returning to Darjeeling I explained his poems to a certain Russian traveller and writer, who translated them into his national tongue. He was much delighted with the information which I gave him, and told me that my translation enabled him to interpret something of the spirit of the great Tibetan epic.

We stayed one night at that temple, and on the following day proceeded along the banks of the river Ham-hung-gi-chu (shoe-dropping river) and reached a place which contained a temple called Gyang-tak-gonpa. This temple is dedicated to Dorje Karmo, the Goddess named White Vajra. The place is situated about one mile off the road and near by is a postal station named Darchen Tazam. This station contains about thirty houses built of stone, besides about a dozen tents pitched here and there. It is a business as well as a revenue centre for the whole district. I lodged at one of the houses, and here the guide took leave of me. That night I performed my usual religious meditation, and on the morning of the following day my pilgrim companions rejoined me.

The station lies on a steppe between the north-western corner of Lake Manasarovara and the north-eastern corner of Lake Lakgal. On the following day our party left the station, and proceeded in a south-easterly direction, to the west of Manasarovara. We advanced in the same direction the next day, till we reached the foot of a snowy peak named Bon-Ri. This is, as I have mentioned before, a place sacred to the Bon, or ancient religion of Tibet. I saw a big temple in the place, which I found to be not a temple belonging to that old religion, as I had expected, but one belonging to the New Sect. It looked a magnificent establishment as seen from a distance, but we did not go near it. This neighborhood produced various kinds of mushrooms, and some which were growing in damp places were gathered by the women of the party. They collected large quantities of the fungus, which was fried with butter and eaten with salt. I tasted it and found it delicious. By that time we had left the limits of the sacred region, and my male companions no longer considered themselves as pilgrims, but as men who had to face the stern realities of the material world. They declared that they must resume their worldly business, and proposed to start by shooting deer. It seemed to me that their shooting not infrequently included extraordinary kinds of game, and I suspected, on good grounds, that the three brothers had now and then turned highwaymen and either robbed or murdered travellers. I therefore began to be afraid of them, and thought that I had better separate myself from them on some plausible pretext, and without awakening their suspicion.

On the following day we reached the brow of a hill, and there one of the brothers in my presence shot an animal called in Tibet changku. The shooting was done merely for pleasure and not with the object of eating its flesh or using its skin. The changku, or wolf, resembles a large species of dog with rather thin fur, which in summer turns a fine brownish color. In winter the color is said to be a whitish grey. The ears are erect and the face appears ferocious. It is said that this wild animal will attack solitary travellers and even kill them. When the brothers brought down the animal their eyes gleamed with delight, and I secretly thought that their eyes would show that same cruel gleam when they murdered a wealthy traveller.