The Mystery of the Kailash Trail - Chapter 8 - Part 5

Book 2: Chapter 8: Part 5:  Old man Dawa tracks the white lone male wild yak.

He had been walking for more than four hours, steadily, and climbing, through the forests that he had seen from the stone hut. Old man Dawa was surprised at the ease with which he had been walking through the forest. This was certainly an old ancient path, made smooth by years of passage. He had not even stumbled on any pebble or stone. The path had not been blocked by any bushy tree or bamboo or foliage. He had not been able to see within the forest canopy during the dawn hours. But, the expert trailsman that he was, he knew that there were no animals out here.

By 11 am, he had reached the upper limits of the forest line and he could see through the canopy and could look out at the boxed in valley. From up here, he could see the stone hut, the river of boulders that they had walked through, and could see the trail that climbed up, northwards. Old man Dawa sat quietly, watching the valley. He saw the yaks and the yak boys near the stone hut. He could see Sangye and Yeshe walk up on the northwards trail, with the two mastiffs following them. He saw Katishe and Satawa walk at an hours’ distance behind Sangye and Yeshe.

He was startled at the clear vision that he had of the valley from the spot that he sat upon. If he could see so clearly, other animals and humans, hidden in this valley could also see them. Any animal or person sitting here, yesterday, could have seen the arrival of the Beyul exploration team. They would have been warned. The alert wild yaks, if they were indeed here, would have moved out of this valley. He had not seen any trail or sign of any animal during his walk through the forest. Old man Dawa got up from his spot and continued to walk westwards.

The opening came up on the trail suddenly. The corners of the boxed in valley at the western corner were more of a fold that hid the opening. The valley turned inside a narrow fold that took him through the forest canopy. It became dark for some distance, and if he would not have understood the feel and recognised the touch of the trail on his feet, he would not have been able to locate the opening. He could feel the smooth trail in the dark canopy, and he continued to walk through the gap.

By noon, the dark opening had led old man Dawa to a broader forest, and with more sunlight streaming inside the canopy. He turned on the trail that he had come through and could not see the boxed-in valley that he had traveled from. The opening to the valley from this path seemed to be equally hidden in. He picked up some signs on the rock walls, the ridges and markings on the slopes to identify the opening through which the path had come. It was difficult, and it would have been impossible for a novice trekker or even an expert mountaineer. Old man Dawa was sharper than either, and he knew enough to pick out and identify faint stone ridges that would help him return to this place.

Having marked the location, he turned back to the trail, and continued to walk inside this hidden valley. The path seemed to be clearing up, and he was suddenly near the edge of the forest. He could see an open plateau outside. It seemed to be more like a high altitude pasture land. There was plenty of grass here, and it seemed quite tall, but not tall enough to hide a yak, he thought. Old man Dawa was cautious. He did not step out of the forest. He stood against some bamboo and a very large tree.

Making an opening into the bamboo clump, he went inside and made some space for himself. He hid his haversack and stout stick inside the clump and covered them with bamboo leaves. He sat quietly, on his haversack, not making any movement. There was no sign of any animal in the grassland. Slowly, he took out his lunch packet, and ate it quietly. He had a bottle of water with him, and he drank from it.

He knew this game quite well. This was the beginning of the game of patience. He knew that there was something out there in this grassland plateau, hidden inside this closed valley. He would wait and would wait and wait. He had played out the waiting game at many a hunt. He knew that there would always be animals in any valley, and if they could not be seen, it would only mean that they were very alert. Old man Dawa certainly did not want to walk into an angry wild yak out here.

He must have sat inside the bamboo clump for more than an hour. Suddenly, his right palm began to itch furiously. He kept scratching it silently, and watched the plains, extremely alert. There was something out there, he knew. Where was it? From his place inside the bamboo clump, old man Dawa could see the entire grassland plateau. The mountain walls were all around the grassland. There was a forest line around the plateau. That could be a problem, Dawa thought, for the forest could hide any other path, if there was, and animals could be moving through the valley to other valleys nearby.

The strangest aspect of the valley was that he could not see any animal. There should have been Chiru and mountain goats here. The lush grassland should have been a temptation. What was he sensing? If there were no animals here, why was his right palm itching so badly, wondered Dawa. There was something out here. It was bright sunlight on the grassland and he could see the entire plateau. Maybe it was not something on the grassland, thought Dawa. Maybe he would have to examine the forest that went around the plateau.

Quietly, without any movement, Dawa kept searching the forest line around the grassland. There was no movement. He wondered if he should risk it and walk into the grassland. He decided against it. That trail of the lone wild yak had been very recent in the night. For, it had not been covered with dew or water. If it would have been more than a day, the track would have been covered with water from the night mist or morning dew. It had been extremely clear and sharp.

There! Suddenly, old man Dawa saw the movement. It was the strangest of all movements. Not certainly what he had been searching for. It was like a white blanket inside the forest beyond the grassland facing him. A white blanket like form had moved inside the forest area in front of him. He kept watching the spot. He could not see it any longer. He was happy, however, for he knew what he had to search for. He had been searching for large black forms, shapes of Chiru, and shapes of mountain goats. He started looking deep inside the forest ahead, beyond the grassland, for a white shape.

What was it? Some sacred spirits of the valley? Could spirits be seen in the daytime? He had never heard of such a being. To the best of his knowledge and memory, of all the stories that he had heard of these regions, the spirits and demons usually came out at night. Perhaps, this was where they came to rest, inside these secluded valleys, away from all disturbances. He kept watching the forest keenly. There it was, again, a white blanket like form, floating inside the forest. It kept moving, inside the canopy, and came to rest near a group of thin trees.

Old man Dawa kept staring at the white blanket-like shape. It did not move. It seemed to be waiting, watching the grassland. As he kept staring at the white shape, Dawa began to figure it out. The left edge of the blanket seemed to taper downwards and there was a definite shape to it. Suddenly, a rope-like white cord whisked out from below and moved about. That was definitely a tail, a white tail, Dawa realised, excitedly. That white blanket was not a blanket, or a spirit, or a demon, he told himself, happily. It was a white animal, very large, and huge.

Dawa was excited. Now that he knew how to figure it out, he began to make out the rest of the shape. The right edge of the white ‘blanket’, naturally led to its head, and as he kept watching for the head to take shape, Dawa trembled. He shivered, actually. For, as he kept watching, the animal began to become clearer. It was a white animal. Very huge. The head began to take shape, and Dawa marveled at it. It was an extremely large head, and the horns were enormous. It was, indeed, a huge male yak. It was definitely not a black yak. This one was an enormous, larger than most yaks he had known, and perhaps, just perhaps, larger than the herd of large wild yaks that he had seen during the rainstorm, with Brother Tameng, near the Choku monastery. This animal, hiding out there, in the forest beyond the grassland, was an enormous white male yak, alone, waiting and watching and waiting. Excited, and yet, calm, Dawa told himself, he could also wait.