The Mystery of the Kailash Trail - Chapter 4 - Part 1

Chapter 4: Part 1: Did wild yaks walk down the Dirapuk slopes? 

Sangye and Yeshe walked around the broken tent trail and searched for sight of more tracks of the herd of large yaks. They could not find any sign along the tents. It was amazing, thought Sangye, for he had heard of such a herd in stories that his great grandfather would tell of one visit to the Kang Renpoche when he had returned to the Qinhai plains after a pilgrimage. He had been almost blind and had to stay back in the village when others would go out in search of wild horses for trapping and herding. Most villagers had merely heard the stories and had smiled in indulgence and gone about their work.

Sangye stood quietly, on the trail, looking at the mountains above the Dirapuk areas and the Drolma La Pass region. These were unknown mountains, and there had been no explorations, and no known hunters from many years who had entered these areas. He had heard of no one who had gone and returned. He watched the slopes, the turns, the gorges, the passes, the cliffs, the peaks and the smaller peaks. These mountains could hide such a mystery. A herd of ten thousand large wild yaks would have easily hidden themselves inside these ranges, he told himself.

He had come to the Kang Renpoche hills and valleys, for so many years, in search of talk and gossip of wild horses and trade of rare breeds of Tibetan animals. He was no longer strong enough to go inside these mountain ranges to hunt and lay down traps and track the trails of wild animals for it would take long weeks to do so. His own son, Yeshe’s father, was not interested in the art of tracking and tracing a trail. It required lots of patience and offered almost no returns, except the thrill of moving about in the mountains. It required you to be at one with these magnificent mountains and ranges. Yeshe may still pick up on these skills. Such a legend as this, the trail of the large wild yaks could be just the answer, he thought.

“Come, Boy, lets go back to the house, and think about what is to be done,” Sangye said, walking slowly, deep in thought, and spoke a prayer, “Yeshe, you, of my own blood, this could be very well a true fact, that large wild yaks did come down the mountain trail from the higher ranges. There was such a story and talk, but that was of a time long before even your father was born. This mountain has blessed us, with what fate will have for us in the future. Come, bow your heads, and thank the most enlightened one, and thank the thousand Buddhas who came to Tibet, and thank the Dharmakaya Amitabha Buddha, for opening up the magic of these mountains. We have much to be thankful for.”

Yeshe knew that his grandfather believed that every mountain in these ranges, around the Kang Renpoche was a Buddha, and that the old man was also convinced that each mountain was a living being. He stood next to Sangye, bowed his head in prayer, but try as he could, he could not focus, for his thoughts were racing. Large wild yaks? Taller than the tallest wild yak? Heavier than the heaviest wild yak? Not one, but many? Could it be true? Was such a thing possible? They had walked down a single trail. There were several other trails in the region, and they chose to walk between the tent lines on this trail? They would have never known or suspected if they would have come down any other trail.

Sangye knew his grandson well. He knew that he would be extremely curious and excited. He was like he had been at that age. Sometimes he wondered if his own son had betrayed him by not becoming a trailsman or a hunter. He had set up shop and started cooking food. How could he do so? Was that all that life had to offer? These mountains, the tallest of the world, these valleys, the most mysterious of all, the animals, the trees, the clouds and the gods. Where would you get all these in the world? These were all here. Sangye waited patiently for his grandson to start with his questions and wondered if he would be true to his blood and ask to be allowed on the trail.

For now, it would have to wait, thought Sangye. We need to know if there would be tracks of the herd of large wild yaks down in the Lhachu valley. There could be sign on the mountain streams, and there could have been sightings by others in the valley. This was one of the most crowded valley in the area, with the number of pilgrims and movement of animals and the establishment of tented eateries and camping areas.

The old man and his grandson walked out of the trail and returned to the eatery. Sangye pointed towards Dirapuk. There seemed to be some activity going on. Two monks, of different coloured robes, and old trailhand and guide and a young yak-boy accompanied by two yaks and a mastiff pup were walking near one of the mountain streams, looking at the ground, as if search of a trail. Could it be so obvious, he wondered. They must be searching for tracks of the wild yaks. Let Yeshe pull his own deductions. He would now know if his grandson was a future trailhound or not.

Yeshe spoke, with excitement, “Grandfather, look at that group of people. They are not looking up or around and they are not walking away from each other. And they are not close to each other. They are walking about, looking at the ground, and they are walking about in a wide circle. They are searching for something. Could it be that they are searching for trail of the large wild yaks? They must have known something. Can we go there and see about what is going on?”

Sangye smiled, with happiness in his heart, and said, “Yeshe, it could be. And yet, it may not be. But let us go there and find out. But slow down, my boy, and do not tell them about what it was that we saw on the trail above our eatery. It may frighten people and pilgrims and your parents would lose their trade. Let us first know about what is it that they search for. Let us be sure, absolutely sure.”

Yeshe nodded in agreement. He had not thought of the danger of disclosing such information. A drop in trade, even for a couple of days, would destroy their meagre business. They depended on the income of each day, while out here. He decided against calling out to his dogs, and went down in a small run to join up with his grandfather, who could walk quite fast on the slopes. It was on the plain flat ground that the old man walked very slowly. As he would usually remark, the plain grounds were not meant for walking, it had to be ridden on horses or mules or yaks. It was the slopes that were meant for climbing.

They met up with the monks and the old pilgrim guide and the yak-boy. The old guide and Sangye seemed to know each other. They bowed in respect. Sangye went up to the monk from the Dirapuk monastery and offered his respects, with his palms brought together, and said, “O Master, you who are blessed with the opportunity to be in service and in constant prayer to the most enlightened one, I greet you. It is indeed a sacred blessing, for, in the shadow of this great mountain, I am able to meet with you, and with the monk from the Choku monastery, as his robes make him out to be. You seem to be in search of something. Did something get washed down from the monastery?”

Dawa, the old pilgrim guide, smiled at the Qinhai horseman’s guile and curiousity, and replied, “Great horseman from Qinhai, you are a patient bird that circles these mountains in search of what you seek, for so many years. So did your father, and so did his father before him. I know you from many years. Drop the pretense. You are coming down the trail from where we stand. You must have seen spoor and trail of what we search for here. Or, you would never have come down from the warmth of your eatery, where your son cooks hot soup in the morning instead of running ahead of you.”

Brother Tameng and the monk from Dirapuk smiled at this banter. They were used to the talk and the tradition of discussion in this part of Tibet. The monk from Dirapuk spoke, “O Sangye, I greet you. This is Norbu who is a yak-boy with the tour group from Shiquanhe. His two yaks that were with him, inside his tent to hide from the rainstorm behaved strangely at night. His mastiff seems to have been very scared and timid at night. He is walking about quietly even now. And, Brother Tameng from the Choku monastery has a really mysterious story to tell us, he says. Let us hear him. For now, we are following old Dawa, in looking at the river stream, and to see if it would tell of anything that moved through the night.”

Sangye replied, “O Masters, and old Dawa, I understand. From what Norbu has told you, and of what Dawa is looking for, and he is correct that I come to meet you with purpose, is it possible that you are all searching for spoor and trail of a herd of wild yaks? Very large wild yaks?”