It Looks Inaccessible, But In Fact Can Be Attained By
Rude Zigzags Of A Thousand Steps Of Rock, Some Natural, Others
Roughly Hewn, Getting Worse And Worse As They Rise Higher, Till The
Later Zigzags Suggest The Difficulties Of The Ascent Of The Great
Pyramid.
The day was fearfully hot, 99 degrees in the shade, and the
naked, shining surfaces of purple rock with a metallic lustre
radiated heat.
My 'gallant grey' took me up half-way - a great feat -
and the Tibetans cheered and shouted 'Sharbaz!' ('Well done!') as he
pluckily leapt up the great slippery rock ledges. After I
dismounted, any number of willing hands hauled and helped me up the
remaining horrible ascent, the rugged rudeness of which is quite
indescribable. The inner entrance is a gateway decorated with a
yak's head and many Buddhist emblems. High above, on a rude gallery,
fifty monks were gathered with their musical instruments. As soon as
the Kan-po or abbot, Punt-sog-sogman (the most perfect Merit),
received us at the gate, the monkish orchestra broke forth in a
tornado of sound of a most tremendous and thrilling quality, which
was all but overwhelming, as the mountain echoes took up and
prolonged the sound of fearful blasts on six-foot silver horns, the
bellowing thunder of six-foot drums, the clash of cymbals, and the
dissonance of a number of monster gongs. It was not music, but it
was sublime. The blasts on the horns are to welcome a great
personage, and such to the monks who despised his teaching was the
devout and learned German missionary.
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