“Victory to the Gods !”

For eight weary miles we retraced our steps the next morning (January 30). In this part of the valley the road had long since disappeared, but after scouting around in several directions, I eventually managed to light on the proper course. This proved to be along an narrow side-alley stretching for several miles which climbed up almost due north. This soon became a difficult ascent, for not only were we forced to walk, but the weakened state of the remaining animals necessitated our carrying on our own shoulders a good deal of their loads. We trudged stolidly up till we were at an altitude of 17,000 feet. During this climbing we were often compelled to halt and rest, for at such an altitude any form of exertion brings on a torturing fatigue, and this steady climb seemed to tear the very lungs out of us. The next 1,000-feet rise was torture, and it was not until sunset that we reached the path of the pass some 18,000 feet above sea-level, and could shout with joy, “Lha-gyal-lo ! Lha-gyal-lo!” (lit. “Victory ! Victory to the gods!”).