The rise to the pass was very gradual, and the pass itself, 15,200 feet above sea-level, was so wide and level that we could have advanced across it in line. But soon now the wind got up, and swept along the pass with terrific force. At this altitude, and clad in such heavy clothing, we could advance but slowly, and the march seemed interminable. The clearness of the atmosphere made the little hamlet of Tuna appear quite near; but hour after hour we plodded wearily over the plateau, and it was late in the afternoon before we reached it, and even then, for the sake of water, we had to go a mile or more beyond, and encamp in the open.
[Illustration: COLUMN CROSSING THE TANG-LA, JANUARY, 1904.]
A Tibetan force was near at hand, and as they were credited with a habit of attacking at night, General Macdonald took special precautions against such an eventuality; but as darkness set in and the cold increased in intensity, we felt we should be pretty helpless in an open camp, and there were some thoughts of retiring again across the pass, for the military risks were very great. But, on the whole, we thought it would be better to face it now we were there; and as, next morning, we examined the hamlet of Tuna, and found it could be turned into a good defensible post, and had a well within the walls, we decided that the Mission should remain there, with an escort of four companies of the 23rd Pioneers, Lieutenant Hadow’s Maxim-gun detachment, and a 7-pounder—the whole under Colonel Hogge; while General Macdonald, with the flying column, returned to Chumbi to complete his arrangements.
The immediate surroundings in which we now found ourselves were miserable in the extreme. Tuna was nearly 15,000 feet above the sea, and was the filthiest place I have ever seen. We tried to live in the houses, but after a few days preferred our tents, in spite of the cold, which was intense, and against which we could not have the comfort and cheer of a fire, for only sufficient fuel for cooking could be obtained, most of it being yak-dung, and much having to be brought from Chumbi. The saving feature was the grand natural scenery, which was a joy of which I never tired. Immediately before us was an almost level and perfectly smooth gravel plain ten or twelve miles in width, and on the far side of this rose the great snowy range, which forms the main axis of the Himalayas, and here separates Tibet from Bhutan. Snow seldom fell. The sky was generally clear, and the sunshine brilliant, and well wrapped up, away from the dirty hamlet and sheltered from the terrific wind, there was pleasure to be had out of even Tuna. And the sight of the serene and mighty Chumalhari, rising proudly above all the storms below and spotless in its purity, was a never-ending solace in our sordid winter post.
