Sonam Tsepal, 102, Last of the Legends.

Sonam Tsepal, now one hundred and two, of the Guji family of Leh is among the last of the legendary traders from Ladakh who spent months each year travelling for trade through the remote and unforgiving terrains of the Transhimalaya well into the middle of the twentieth century. In his youth he was already regarded as one of the most capable traders of his generation. For thirteen years before the border closed following the Chinese invasion of Tibet, Tsepal travelled regularly to western Tibet and built a remarkably successful business. He carried substantial quantities of rice, sugar, barley, phey, phating and other essentials that were scarce in western Tibet. In return he obtained wool, pashmina and toosh, and each journey yielded a handsome profit.

Such journeys demanded careful preparation. Each autumn Tsepal and other traders walked to the salt market at Sakti to buy salt from the visiting Changpa traders. From Sakti he returned to Leh, where he rested for a few days before joining other local traders on the road to Kargil, a place where salt brought cash rather than barter. With the earnings from Kargil he purchased the supplies required for the Tibetan trade, including rice, sugar and other essentials that arrived from Kashmir for the Kargil market. Through the winter these goods were stored at home while the traders waited for the season to turn.

By the fifth month, around the time of Hemis Tsechu, Tsepal and his companions set out for Tibet. He was in his early twenties when he undertook his first journey, travelling with his friend Gombo of the Michikpa family and Skalzang of the Olmochey household in Stok. The outbound caravan typically consisted of a  horse for personal use of the trader and donkeys and Ladakhi sheep to load the cargo. They crossed the Changla and descended to Tangtse, from where two established routes branched towards the frontier and eventually met at Chushul. The first route passed through the Sato Kargyam valley. The other road wound south east past Spangmik, Man and Merak, the string of villages lying south of Pangong Lake. Tsepal and his companions always chose the Sato Kargyam route, crossing the Kanju Kongka La before descending into Chushul.

An interesting feature of these journeys was that the caravans did not consist of traders alone. In those days young Ladakhi monks travelling to Tibetan monasteries for their education were traditionally placed in the care of traders. Tsepal readily agreed to assist as many novices as needed. From Gertse, the final destination of the Ladakhi traders, the monks came under the care of Tibetan traders arriving from Lhasa, who then escorted them to their designated monasteries, either personally or through trusted intermediaries, ensuring each novice reached his monastic home. Tsepal had heard that a few monks from Ladakh chose an alternate route to Tibet through Darjeeling.

After about ten days from Leh the Ladakhis reached Rudok, the first major settlement in Tibet. The traders halted there for a few days; Rudok served as an important staging point where part of the trade was conducted. In those days it was common to meet traders from Sham as well as Argon traders from Leh and Chushot. On arrival local officials received the visitors, counted and weighed the goods, and prepared them for inspection. A senior official then assessed the tax known as tsongthal, levied in barley at the rate of one bo for each khal of load. The journey from Rudok to Gertse took another two weeks, slightly more than the time from Leh to Rudok.

On the way from Rudok to Gertse Tsepal usually brought his horse but left it midway in the care of Tibetan nomads at Kul, a seasonal settlement between Rudok and Rawang where the grazing grounds were better than those around Gertse. While passing through Rawang he often met Argon traders who came to acquire pashmina. From what he recalls, the Argon traders did not continue on to Gertse.

Although Tsepal did not source salt from Tibet, he once visited the salt lake of Mingdun Tsaka by chance. The caravan had taken a diversion after news that the Tungans, fleeing persecution, were moving toward the border and were said to be looting travellers. At the lake he watched extractors wade in with leather wrapped around their legs and leather gloves. They dug the salt bearing soil from the bed, heaped it, and carried it out to dry. The salt from Mingdun Tsaka, red in colour, was considered the finest in Ladakh.

According to Tsepal, Gertse would be bustling with traders from across Ladakh. Merchants from Bodh Kharbu in the west to the settlements of Changthang in the east came each year. Tsepal remembers families such as the Gangley Guru, Tsaskan, Lamanurbu, the Moljoks of Saspol and the Yugopa, households from different parts of Ladakh who travelled regularly to Gertse. Besides the Ladakhis, the market drew visitors from Karja in present day Himachal Pradesh as well as Tibetans from outside Gertse. Each Ladakhi trader maintained a friendly household in the settlement that offered him preference during trading.

The nomads of Gertse were prosperous.Tsepal’s local friend Skarma Sonam was among the wealthiest in the region, maintaining a herd of about five thousand animals including rigu, rama, milch stock and tsongluk. He lived with his family in a large rebo.  Another prominent figure, Sanak Tashi, owned nearly five hundred yaks. In those days Gertse had no permanent houses except one for the Gertse Spon, the senior official who came only during the trading season. Once every three years the nomads invited lamas from Lhasa to perform prayers in the settlement.

After a few days of settling in the senior most Ladakhi trader would be summoned to meet the Gertse Spon, the official responsible for supervising trade on behalf of the Tibetan government. Traders from Karja attended these sessions along with Tibetan traders from elsewhere. Meetings typically lasted several days during which barter and purchase rates were negotiated. According to Tsepal the system of transaction was intricate. Payments were not made directly to nomads who supplied wool, pasmina or livestock. Instead, settlements were routed through the Spon, who was understood to compensate the nomads later. The rule for toosh was an exception, since Ladakhi traders were allowed to purchase it directly from local sellers.

Among the Karja traders Tsepal recalls a Karjapa named Gonbo, who arrived with few donkeys and nearly five hundred Karja sheep. The Karjapas entered the Indus valley by crossing Taglang La and from there followed the same road to Tibet as the Ladakhis. The Karja sheep, he observed, were not as hardy as the Tibetan breed. While the Karja sheep could carry about five battis of load, the Tibetan sheep bore seven to nine. When he first visited the region a Tibetan sheep cost around five rupees. By his final journey the price had risen to nineteen.

After completing their trade, the Ladakhi caravans prepared for the long journey home. On the return, Tsepal stopped at Kul to reclaim his horse. After weeks of grazing the animal had grown stronger and noticeably healthier. According to Tsepal, the rhythm of travel changed sharply on the homeward journey. When they travelled toward Tibet the caravans moved through the day and often continued for several hours after sunset in order to make good time across the plateau. The return was far slower because the traders brought back hundreds of additional sheep purchased in Tibet, each heavily laden with wool, pashmina or toosh. The animals required frequent rest, and this steady need for pause slowed the entire caravan.

Customs also distinguished the trading groups. Argon traders did not travel after sunset. The Karjapas kept loads tied to their sheep throughout the journey while Ladakhi traders unloaded their animals each evening. The practice of never unloading appears again in the work of the Tibetan salt traders, whose sheep slept with the load on their backs.

The traders were back in Leh, usually around the Chemrey festival. The wool, pashmina and toosh that Tsepal brought from Tibet were sold at a substantial profit, often three times or more than the purchase price. These were sold to the Hoshiarpur lalas in the Leh market. The lalas either purchased the fibre for resale to visiting Kashmiri merchants or acted as intermediaries, brokering agreements between Ladakhi traders and the Kashmiris. In those days Lala Shaadi Lal and Hargo Ram were especially well known among the Ladakhis.

There was a year when the Kashmiri traders did not arrive in Leh, leaving the Ladakhis with no buyers for their wool and pashmina. Tsepal and his friend Michikpa Gonbo chose to carry their pashmina to Srinagar. They stored the wool for the next season and, once conditions allowed, loaded the pashmina on donkeys and travelled to Kargil. From there they hired horses from Dras villagers and set out for Srinagar, where Gonbo was familiar with the Kashmiri trading houses. The effort proved worthwhile, for they still made a good profit on the pashmina.

At Tangtse with Aba Lobzang Tsewang.

Lobzang Tsewang le, now eighty-two, recalls that Tangtse was once among the most fertile areas in the region. Villagers from Phobrang and the Sato Kargyam tract, where cultivation had long been impossible due to the severity of the cold, regularly visited to barter wool, livestock, and meat for Tangyar’s barley. With recent changes in climate, these villages too have begun cultivating barley and other crops, though only on a modest scale.

In earlier times, the main access to Tangtse was via Chang La, a route suitable for both sheep and horses. Kela Pass offered an alternative, but its difficulty confined it to horse caravans bound for Leh or Sakti. Even when villagers returned from Sakti or Leh with purchased goods, they preferred to cross back through Chang La. Another approach to Nubra lay through Neebuk La, while a lesser-known passage via Shachukul Monastery led to Tukla in Rong.

Until Tsewang was in his thirties, people from Spangmik, Man, and Merak—settlements along Pangong—still sourced salt directly from the northern shores of the lake. Families who lived in rebos along the water’s edge drove their sheep to a site called Rundo, situated just before Rudok, to collect it. The journey was timed with the onset of winter, when Pangong froze over. Once the ice formed, villagers could cross the lake directly to its northern side, reducing the distance to Rundo to a fraction of what it would otherwise be through the long detour via Phobrang. Shamma traders also synchronized their movements with this season, travelling across the frozen expanse alongside the Pangong villagers.

On their return from Rundo, the Pangong villagers would halt for a night at Tangtse before carrying salt to Nubra. Instead of taking the present-day Durbuk road, they travelled through Rele Ichen village, crossed the Neebuk La Pass, and entered Nubra at Tangyar. Tsewang remembers purchasing salt from them along the way and joining their caravans. In Nubra, the exchange rate was one unit of salt for four of barley, with the chakkar serving as the standard measure. He first made this journey at the age of twenty-five with his uncle, Aba Phunsog Rigzin, visiting Tangyar, Diskit, and Kubet. The journey was always on horses. Tsewangs family owned 4 horses while there were families of Katley and  Thakthyang , the richest in the region who owned14-15 horses. The Tangtse traders often extended their stay in Nubra, where pastures for sheep were plentiful. Hospitality was another attraction: Nubra villagers frequently provided free fodder to visitors. Diskit and Hunder were favored for wheat, while Kubet was renowned for its superior barley.

Tsewang also recalls a curious attempt by some locals to revive salt production near Meerak. Believing that imported salt could act as a fermenting catalyst, they scattered market-bought salt over an old site once known for natural deposits. The experiment failed, yet the episode survives in the region’s salt lore.

At Spituk with Aba Jamspal Dorjey le of Nerchung Khangu.

At 89, Aba Jamspal still works daily in the family fields. He attributes his vitality to a youth filled with travel and adventure. His first encounter with the salt trade came when he was about fifteen, during a journey to the bustling markets of Sakti and Chemrey. He vividly recalls the scale of those markets, where hundreds of traders from across Ladakh and Baltistan gathered to barter. The Changpa herders arrived with sheep carrying lugals of salt, which were stacked into striking pyramid-shaped piles. At Sakti, Jamspal could trade his barley for salt, often three times the quantity.

The Shamma and Balti traders who came to Sakti passed through his village of Spituk. The Shamma travelled with donkeys, while the Baltis, relying on dzhos, would rest overnight in the village. Their arrivals turned Spituk festive, for the Baltis in particular would spend their evenings with song and dance that lasted until dawn.

The Baltis carried phatings and doltoks. The smaller doltoks were packed in hay-filled bags, while the larger ones were carried in stacked loads. Equally prized were the apricot kernels they transported. Each dzho bore at least one khal, about fifty kilograms, of kernels. In Ladakh’s village, as in the monasteries, apricot oil was indispensable, valued especially for lighting prayer lamps. The kernels were traded for barley in Spituk, and that barley was then exchanged for salt with the Changpas at Sakti. In a land where everything was scarce, nothing went to waste: villagers crushed the residue of the kernels, known as patsaa, boiled it for hours to reduce its sourness, and mixed it with toe to prepare a dish called tsanthuk. Such foods were vital to Ladakh’s subsistence economy.

Jamspal holds the Shamma traders in particular esteem, remembering them as among the most hardworking people he had ever known. After returning from Sakti with salt, many would forgo Losar celebrations and head straight to Kargil. There, some exchanged salt for rice brought by Balti traders, at the favourable rate of one measure of salt for one of rice, an even exchange compared to the three-for-one rate of salt for barley at Sakti. Others sold their salt in Kargil and pressed westward, crossing Zojila into Kashmir to purchase rice, which at the time cost one rupee for two kilograms.

Jamspal personally witnessed these trades in Kargil and Sonamarg. He was almost twenty when he travelled to Kargil to transport wool for “The Syndicate,” one of Ladakh’s cooperative organisations. Later, he joined fellow traders from the Tsokrun, Mogol, Rongo, and Chupsa families on journeys to Sonamarg to buy rice. These expeditions, he remembers, were as much about endurance and survival as they were about commerce.

One of the most vivid memories of his youth was tax collection. Villagers were required to clean their grain before delivering it to the government store in Leh. Yet, no matter how carefully they worked, some officials, Ladakhis themselves, would find fault. A chaprasi named Stanzin Dawa (name changed) became notorious for his cruelty. He would smear his palm with butter, dip it into the grain, and if even a speck of dust clung to his hand, he would reject the consignment. The villagers had no choice but to return home and clean the grain all over again.

The other memories, were of, wool being so scarce, that a team from Spituk monastery, monks and laypersons alike, travelled as far as Gertse in Tibet to procure it for weaving robes. As a child, Jamspal also saw groups of very well dressed, forty or fifty Dogra soldiers passing through Spituk to relieve counterparts at Leh’s Qila, part of the annual transfer of forces. He remembers, too, the Tungan and Kazakh refugees who fled Central Asia in the mid-1940s. They bartered a single roti for a sheep. Some wore hats resembling those of high lamas, and rumours spread that they had looted monasteries and nomadic settlements in Tibet, bringing with them both sheep and ceremonial hats.

Independence brought good news for Ladakhis. Salt and other essentials began to be distributed through the local ration shop. Families continued to save rice for Losar or to serve relatives during times of celebration and priods of mourning. Jamspal also expresses gratitude to the Indian Army, which in the 1940s and 1950s created large scale  livelihoods for many Ladakhis,whether through enlistment or the spin-off trades its presence generated. A single trip from Spituk to Chorbat La with Army loads on horses could earn as much as thirty-six rupees. He also witnessed the first landing of Dakota aeroplanes in Spituk, an event that transformed the local economy. Each Dakota carried either twenty-four bags of flour or twenty-five cans of kerosene. A load transported from the airport to the Qila in Leh earned one rupee, while unloading at the airstrip paid two rupees per day. These opportunities encouraged villagers to acquire horses, which were soon employed almost exclusively for Army transport.

Abdul Ghani Sheikh -Writer, Historian: A Life of Scholarship

Abdul Ghani Sheikh, one of Ladakh’s foremost writers and historians, was officially recorded as being born on 5 March 1936. He believed, however, that he was older. His reasoning stemmed from the birth of his elder sister Fatima, who had been born on the same day as Dr Karan Singh, the son of the Maharaja of Jammu. According to their parents, Abdul Ghani was two and a half years younger than Fatima. Dr Karan Singh’s birth on 9 March 1931 had been a day of celebration in Leh, especially in Wazir Bagh where the old tehsil office would stand for many years after Independence. The occasion was marked with the lighting of lamps and cannon fire from the Leh Palace.

Some of Ghani’s earliest memories are of being carried by his father to football matches at Shagaran, a ground used for much of the time for polo. Later he watched polo there before matches moved first to the middle of Leh Bazaar and then, after that custom ended, to the present Polo Ground. His boyhood world was changing, and with it his daily life. As a child he attended the Leh Government Middle School, which stood just before Balkhang on the left when approaching from Mani Tsilding. A little further along, on the right, was the Charas Building, the large residence of the Charas Officer. In those years Charas imported from Central Asia was among the most prized northern commodities to reach India. The Charas Building had many unused rooms that were converted into additional classrooms for the middle school, whose own structure was small. Teachers included both Ladakhi Buddhists and Muslims, although the headmaster was always a pandit from Jammu. Urdu and Bhoti were taught from the first year, while English was introduced only in Standard Five. This was Leh in the late 1930s and the mid 1940s, a town without electricity. Power did not arrive until the 1960s. Until then Ladakhi homes were lit with lamps fuelled by kerosene and sometimes mustard oil, placed high on the walls. Ghani remembered the strain these lamps put on the eyes. 

The period before independence of 1947 was also the era when the administrative headquarters of Ladakh shifted seasonally from Leh to Skardu for six months each year. Ghani experienced this movement within his own household. His brother Deen Mohammad Sheikh, a clerk with the Wazir, was transferred to Skardu every winter. Two other clerks, Ghulam Nabi Hamam and Munshi Ghulam Mohammad Tak, were close friends of Deen Mohammad. Each October the darbar, consisting of the Wazir and his staff, left for Skardu and returned in April. They were joined in summer by office staff from Skardu. 

Wazir Bagh, housing the Wazir and his staff, was the centre of official life in Leh. The arrival of the Wazir or the British Joint Commissioner were among the grandest official events of the year. As a schoolboy Ghani was sometimes selected to welcome these dignitaries, dressed in boy scout uniform and carrying a stick. Women in ceremonial attire lined the road from Mani Tsilding to Balkhang, holding the kalchor. To prepare for such occasions a watchman was posted where he could see the Tairey Rong near Sabu. Once he sighted the approaching entourage he would run back to Leh to give the signal and the town would ready itself. 

The dignitary arrived from the Mani Tsilding side, greeted first by women with kalchor and then by boy scouts standing on both sides of the road. The scouts chanted “Hip Hip Hurray” in unison as the party entered Leh Bazaar near Balkhang. The day after the arrival a second function would be held inside Wazir Bagh. The British Joint Commissioner usually remained in Leh for two or three months. Ghani remembers an incidence when on arrival he dismounted, removed his hat, greeted the children, and proceeded to Wazir Bagh for a modest welcome of song and dance. Officials were widely respected. If a tehsildar entered the bazaar a man would run ahead to alert people to stand and greet him. The Wazir and the Joint Commissioner were rarely seen in the market. Ghani remembered seeing the last Wazir in 1946 and 1947 inside Wazir Bagh. 

Equally vivid in his memory was Ladakhi Losar, when the King came from Stok and stayed in Leh for at least three days of festivities. The ritual of welcoming the King began along the route from Stok. By the time the horse convoy reached the Leh Palace it could number about a hundred animals. After palace celebrations the King would come down to Leh Bazaar, where he owned a property called the Zhimskhang. From the rabsal of the Zhimskhang overlooking the bazaar the King and Queen watched a ceremonial horse race or procession from the Old Bazaar to the New Bazaar. The British had named the latter Victoria Bazaar around 1901. The procession was led by the Lardak family, with the final rider in the line was called the Chipyukpa. 

Beyond festivals, Leh was a hub of trade. Kashmiris crossed Zojila, Tibetans followed the Indus River into India, and Central Asians came over Karakoram La. Salt, Ghani recalled, always came from the east and was sold in the Leh market by Changpas. At the edge of Balkhang stood a gate with a small office above it. Another gate at Chubi performed a similar function. Both served as registration points for visitors, with Chubi Gate used especially for recording Central Asian Hor traders from Yarkand who crossed the Karakoram Pass into Ladakh. 

The Hors typically arrived in September and stayed for less than two months. Although the Karakoram Pass could be traversed year-round, the principal trading season was short. In Leh the Hors lodged in two sarais. One stood at the site of the present police station near Karzoo and a smaller sarai lay near Zangsti, now the site of a parking lot and public toilet. As a boy Ghani once ventured into the Karzoo sarai. The Hors were striking in their fine, distinctive clothing and they carried goods much sought after in the market. Ghani learned a few words of their language because his father, Kadir Sheikh, owned a dry fruits stall and often received their visits. 

Tobacco was among the most prized items. Some tobacco came from Kashmir, while the Hors brought tobacco leaves from Central Asia. Local traders blended the two varieties and sold them to both Ladakhis and Hors. These blends were known as tamak, sotak, and natak and were often kept in a small case called the kapak. Charas from Central Asia, sent onwards to Indian cities such as Amritsar, was also sold locally and many in Leh became addicted. Bhaang from Punjab was likewise part of the trading circuit and was sent on to Central Asia. 

The Hors brought chakmen, a cotton cloth used for shirts and trousers and preferred by some over nambu, the locally woven wool fabric. They also carried carpets, turquoise for Ladakhi peraks, and live sheep sold for meat. Ghani remembered wearing a chappan a gown similar to the ladakhi Kos bought from the Hors that for a time became fashionable among Nubrapas. The head of the caravan, called the bhai, owned the animals, often fifty or sixty horses along with camels, and was assisted by a team that tended to the loads and beasts. The Karakoram route also served Central Asian Muslims bound for the Hajj, who travelled via Kashmir to Bombay and then by ship to Mecca and Medina. 

Amid these trade exchanges Ghani recalled one lesser known episode in modern Ladakhi history. Around 1942 or 1943 thousands of  Kazaks showed up at Ladakh arriving  from the Demchok side. Political refugees fleeing persecution in Central Asia, they had been refused entry into Nepal from the Guge and Purang side and entered India only to be halted at the frontier. Leh then had about fifty soldiers under Major Abdul Hameed. The Kazaks, numbering in the thousands and still armed, at first refused to surrender their weapons. It was only through the persuasion of the local patwari, Ba Hukam Deen of Thiksey, that they agreed to hand them over. Ghani remembered seeing the surrendered guns carried away on horseback to the government stores. The Kazaks were housed briefly near Akling and Skara, camping in what is now the Shunu family home. In their desperation some sold goats for as little as one rupee, animals reportedly taken from Tibetan nomads during their flight. That winter they were moved to Kashmir. 

Partition in 1947 brought personal tragedy. When the borders closed Deen Mohammad and many members of the Leh darbar were stranded in Skardu, among them a Buddhist staff member whose name Ghani could not recall. Nearly thirty years later, after retiring in Skardu, Deen made a short visit to Leh. It was an emotional reunion. He had settled in Skardu with his family. When news of his visit spread the father of the Buddhist staff member came to see him. Deen told him that his son was alive and living far from Skardu and that whenever he visited the town he would call on Deen. The father entrusted Deen with gifts to pass on. 

By 1948 Leh entered a new era. That year Ghani and other Ladakhis witnessed the landing of the first aircraft, soon followed by the arrival of the first motor vehicle. The first motorable road from the airport to Wazir Bagh in leh bazaar was built immediately after the plane’s landing. Ghani and the other children were playing at Shagaran when they saw in the distance a black noisy object moving like a strange animal. They chased it until it reached the market, where they saw the first jeep in Ladakh. 

In the years that followed, national leaders began to visit Ladakh. In 1949, Ghani recalled being at Choglamsar with his friends during the Hemis Tsechu, enjoying a picnic and a swim in the Indus, when Jawaharlal Nehru, on his way back from Hemis, stopped at Choglamsar and even took a ride in a local kisti boat. He also recalled Atal Bihari Vajpayee then as a member of the Jan Sagh visiting Leh as part of a parliamentary delegation after a law and order incident. The delegation’s report prompted several welfare initiatives aimed at peace and harmony in the town. 

Among the many queries the author put to Aba Ghani Sheikh, two stood out: the location of a place called Gulab Baghand the house of a trader named Nazeer Shah.

It is recorded that William Henry Johnson, the legendary Wazir of Ladakh, was responsible for constructing many buildings across the region, including his own residence, the first modern Ladakhi house, on a site called Gulab Bagh. Johnson, regarded as one of the most celebrated surveyors of the Great Trigonometrical Survey (now the Survey of India), is also famed for the “Johnson Line” in Aksai Chin. He later became the only second British Wazir of Ladakh, a position he held for more than a decade. While in Ladakh, Johnson married a Ladakhi Muslim woman as his first wife, and they had a son. Their descendants remain part of a distinguished family in Leh and Hundar. Johnson’s grandson still lives in the Chutey Rantak area of Leh, and over the course of three years the author interviewed him and traced an extensive family pedigree.

Yet the author was unable to locate Gulab Bagh. According to Ghani, it was almost certainly near Mangla Bagh in Skara, rather than in Leh, where the author had been searching. As for Nazeer Shah, Hedin described him as a wealthy local trader whose house was full of precious goods and from whose upper storeys the Indus could be seen. The author had assumed the house was in Chushot, a natural location for a riverside merchant’s residence. Ghani revealed, however, that Nazeer Shah’s house stood in the middle of Leh Bazaar and belonged to the Radhu family. The site today houses a restaurant that still bears the family name. In the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries Leh had few tall buildings and no trees to obstruct the view, so from the upper storeys of the tallest houses the Indus could indeed be seen.

Decades of accumulated knowledge distilled into a few hours inevitably leave much unsaid about Aba Abdul Gani Sheikh le,who leaves behind a rich oeuvre of prose and poetry , a legacy for future researchers of Ladakh.

The following is a selection of works taken from:

 

Source; https://ladakhstudies.org/2024/08/26/abdul-ghani-sheikh-and-the-ials/

1995. “A Brief History of Muslims in Ladakh.” In Recent Research on Ladakh 4 & 5, pp. 189-192. Edited by Henry Osmaston and Philip Denwood. London: School of Oriental and African Studies; Delhi: Motilal Banarsidass.

1996. “Some Wellknown Adventurers of Ladakh.” In Recent Research on Ladakh 6, pp. 231-238. Edited by Henry Osmaston and Nawang Tsering. Bristol: Bristol University Press; Delhi: Motilal Banarsidass.

1997. “Ladakh’s Relations with Central Asia.” In Recent Research on Ladakh 7, pp.447-456. Edited by Thierry Dodin and Heinz Räther. Ulmer Kulturanthropologische Schriften Band 8. Ulm: Abteilung Anthropologie, Universität Ulm.

1999. “Economic Conditions in Ladakh during the Dogra Period.” In Ladakh: Culture, History and Development, between Himalaya and Karakoram. Recent Research on Ladakh 8, pp. 339-349. Edited by Martijn van Beek, Kristoffer Brix Bertelsen and Poul Pedersen. Aarhus: Aarhus University Press.

2007. “Transformation of Kuksho Village.” In Recent Research on Ladakh 7, pp. 163-170. Edited by John Bray and Nawang Tsering Shakspo. Leh: Jammu & Kashmir Academy of Art, Culture & Languages.

2009. “Kargil from the Perspective of Historical Travellers and Government Officials.” In Recent Research on Ladakh 2009, pp. 39-45. Edited by Monisha Ahmed & John Bray. Kargil & Leh: International Association of Ladakh Studies.

2009. “The Traditions of Sufism in Ladakh.” In Mountains, Monasteries and Mosques. Recent Research on Ladakh and the Western Himalaya, pp. 131-139. Edited by John Bray & Elena De Rossi Filibeck. Supplement No. 2 to Rivista degli Studi Orientali 80 (New Series). Pisa & Rome: Sapienza, Università di Roma, Dipartimento di Studi Orientali.

* This interview was conducted on the 1st of July, 2024 at his home at Yasmeen Hotel, few weeks before Aba Ghani Sheikh le passed away. 

Sonam Dorjey, 78, Yulang, Zanskar.

Sonam Dorjey 78, from Yulang, Zanskar, spends nearly three months each summer at a Doksa near the Penzila pass, tending not only to his own livestock but also that of fellow villagers.

Doksas are seasonal high-altitude grazing camps, typically occupied from early June until September, when herders guide their animals up to the alpine meadows. When I met him in September 2024, Sonam was on his way back from Penzila, leading a mixed herd: twenty-five cows, two yaks, six demo, and eight dzo.

According to him, the richest milk comes from the dzomo, the female hybrid of a yak and a cow, but it is the demo (female yak) that yields the finest butter. A demo produces only about three litres of milk a day, compared to nearly five litres from a dzomo. Churning a single kilogram of butter requires at least six litres of milk, the same quantity needed to produce a kilogram of churpee, the hard local cheese. Sonam sells his butter in Leh, where it fetches Rs 750 per kilogram; churpee goes for Rs 550.

The best butter in Zanskar, he claims, comes from the Stod region. Herders believe the secret lies in the rare medicinal plants that grow in those alpine pastures, plants grazed on by the livestock, said to enrich the flavour and medicinal quality of their milk. Besides the yak, demo, dzo (male hybrid), and dzomo (female hybrid), there is also a lesser-known crossbreed called garmo, a hybrid between a yak and a dzomo.

As a young man of twenty, Sonam first travelled to Paldar via the Omasila pass. There, he bought cattle, mostly ageing cows, for Rs 300 each, which he later resold to Balti traders for Rs 600. Later he traded wooden shovels known as khem, purchased at Rs 50 and sold in Zanskar for Rs 100. A person could carry fifteen to twenty khem at a time; larger consignments were loaded onto dzo for transport. He also bought raw wool at Rs 100 per kilogram, which he used to make nambu, a woollen fabric, later sold to local households. In those days, all wool was cleaned by hand. Even simple tools like the balchat (a wooden comb used for carding wool) were rare, making the work slow and labour-intensive.

Tundup Tsering, now in his 90s, Serlupa family, Hanupata.

Tundup Tsering, now in his 90s and belonging to the Serlupa family, is the oldest living resident of Hanupata. The village has six Tongpas (families): Khangchenpa, Zhingjukpa, Yokmapa, Ikupa, Serlupa, and Marlapa. 

In earlier times, the village was part of Wanla and shared a common headman, known as a Goba. It has now been over a decade since Hanupata, along with few small villages has had a separate Goba of its own.

Hanupata's earliest recorded mention dates back to the mid-16th century, during the reign of Gyalpo Tsewang Namgyal. It was here, according to the Ladakh Gyalrabs, that the king commissioned the construction of a road to facilitate travel toward Zanskar, one of two strategic roads he is said to have developed, the other cutting through the Hanu Gorge.

Today, this once-important route, perhaps the first recorded mention of an infrastructure project in Ladakh, has nearly vanished from collective memory in Hanupata and surrounding villages. While an attempt to retrace its path met with limited success, the village elders still recall a trail known as Gyalpo La. This route, which began at Sumdo near Hanupata and ended at Fanjila near Wanla, was abandoned a few decades ago and is absent from all maps, including the trekking maps of Ladakh. When traveling from Fanjila towards Hanupata, villagers would cross Gyalpo La and rest for a few days at a place called Chumikchan before descending towards Spangthang (Hanupata Tokpa) and further southwest to Hanupata. Rarely would the villagers take the lower route through the valley from Sumdo towards Fanjila and onward to Wanla. This alternative was used during winter, when the river in the valley would freeze, making it safe to walk over the ice.

According to Tundup, the Gyalpo La road was also used by residents of Photoksar, Lingshed, and nearby settlements when heading to Wanla and onward to Khaltse or Leh. Landslides would sometimes block the route, prompting villagers to come together with limited tools to clear and repair the path so it could be used again. A faint trace of the route, still visible on Google Earth, runs from Fanjila to Sumdo, skirting the left side of the present-day road as one approaches Hanupata from Wanla.

Tashi Wangyal, a Hanupata resident now in his mid-fifties, recalls seeing a decorative stone inscription at the spot where the ancient trail climbed from Sumdo. The stone bore numerous names, possibly those of the people who built or frequently used the trail. Sadly, this inscription was reportedly destroyed during road construction a few decades ago.

Though there is no surviving written or archaeological proof, it remains plausible that this trail was the very road ordered by Gyalpo Tsewang Namgyal in the 16th century.

Tundup Tsering’s own life offers further insight into Hanupata’s historic connections, particularly its role in the regional salt trade. In his youth, he heard stories from his father and other elders who journeyed all the way to Changthang to obtain salt. When Tundup turned 30, he undertook his first and only expedition to Sakti-Chemrey salt market, where he bartered barley and phey for salt. He made the journey with horses and donkeys, accompanied by his uncle Murup and two friends from Wanla, Tundup of the Chupi family and Phunsog of the Karey family. 

The exchange rate at Sakti-Chemrey for salt varied from twice the quantity of salt to three or four times from year to year. He recalls a rare year when, for some reason, a man from Yulchung managed to get nine times the quantity of salt in exchange for barley. Besides salt, most villagers would source part of their wool requirement from Changthang. While some bought it from the Sakti salt market, a few from the village would travel to Changthang to source it at a cheaper rate. This was then resold to the villagers back home. The Changthang wool was used as the weft while the local wool was used for warp.

Later, Tundup began sourcing salt locally from Shamma traders based in nearby villages like Khaltse. These traders themselves acquired their salt from the Sakti–Chemrey salt market. Tundup would then travel to Photoksar, Lingshed, and Yulchung, bartering the salt for barley at favorable rates. He was an active salt trader, making three rounds annually in spring, summer, and autumn. The road taken was the present-day motorable road, which was then a narrow trekking path. Of the three seasons, spring posed the greatest challenge, especially in crossing the Singge La, where swollen streams at its base made the passage treacherous. On a few occasions, while going towards south, he would take the route through the narrow gorge originating at Sumdo and  passing Askuta and Machu, a route used by locals during winters to reach Photoksar and beyond. This route had an additional summer access through the cliffs, locally known as Serlam or Braklam. This Serlam was possibly an extension to the Gyalpola route commissioned by Gyalpo Tsewang Namgyal in the 16th century.

Back in Hanupata, there would be occasional visits from the Shamma traders who came with chuli, phating, kushu, and some salt. Then there were the Chiktan traders who came to buy livestock for meat. In Hanupata, the main livestock were yaks and demo. In those days, each family had more than ten of these. Tundup remembers that his family had eighteen yaks and demos. Unlike the yak and the demo, which can be left in the mountains, cows require more personal care and are therefore not preferred in the region. Due to the relatively better availability of grassland in the mountains, the villagers from Wanla would enter into an agreement to hand over their cattle to Hanupata residents for a few months in summer. The trade was that the Hanupata residents would give them 2 to 3 kilograms of butter per milch animal per month. Whatever surplus milk, churpi, and tara, along with the animal waste, was for the Hanupata villagers to keep.

 To supplement his income, Tundup would also weave the traditional Ladakhi basket tsepo from sed. The raw material would be sourced from the nearby areas during autumn and kept in water for 8 to 9 days. The actual weaving would start in the winters or spring. He would then travel to the nearby villages of the Sham region to sell the tsepo for as low as four annas. The present-day price of a tsepo made of sed is more than ₹1,000. He also made the traditional Ladakhi shoes designed with thikma and sold them to earn some extra income.

At Stok: With Sonam Wangchuk (85) and Tashi Putit (89), Nyamshan family, Stok.

Both Sonam Wangchuk and Tashi Putit have spent much of their lives in Stok, working the fields and tending to livestock. Sonam recalls that he was around 20 years old when he first travelled to the Sakti–Chemrey salt market, where he bartered barley for salt. The exchange rate varied from year to year, sometimes requiring twice the quantity of salt for an equal amount of barley, while at other times, the trade was on equal terms.

Tashi Putit remembers the saddlebag known as lugal, which the Changpa traders used to load salt onto sheep. In Stok, these lugals were highly prized, as wool was scarce in the village and the bags served as durable carriers for essentials. There were two distinct types of salt available at Sakti:

1. Tsamar (red), considered the more premium variety, and

2. Tsakar (white), the standard kind.

In addition to bartering salt, some for household use and some for resale in Stok, Sonam Wangchuk also engaged in the trade of phating, a product he purchased from Shamma traders and sold further east in Durbuk, in the Changthang region.

Seasonal Livestock Agreements and Migrations:

One of the major seasonal events in their lives, as in many Stokpa households, was the annual migration of livestock to highland pastures near Stok Kangri. These pastures were not used solely by Stok residents. Each year, around the fourth month of the lunar calendar, families from Chushot entered into formal agreements with Stokpas, entrusting their livestock to them for a period of three to four months.

Sonam recalls taking a day-long trek to Rumbak to bring additional cattle under similar agreements. Sometimes, even relatives from villages like Thiksey would request the Stokpas to keep their animals for the summer grazing season. By the eighth lunar month, the Chushot families would return to retrieve their animals. 

This arrangement was long considered a mutually beneficial tradition:

The animals received rich nourishment in the meadows. A fee of 1 Pao ( 250 grams) of butter called Shemar and a plate of Churpee was paid to the owners by the at the end of the season. The Stokpas benefited from animal dung, and a share of the milk. When firewood was scarce in Ladakh, animal waste served as a crucial fuel source. Two types were especially important:

1. Cattle dung, which was dried and stored directly for use.

2. Rilmang, the droppings of goats and sheep, which required further processing.

The Rilmang was spread in the open and left to break down into a sticky material called Rikpa. To this, villagers added a locally found plant known as Nyalo. The ideal time for mixing was during light drizzle, which helped bind the materials. The resulting paste was then shaped into fuel cakes, dried, and carried back on donkeys to the village along with the cattle dung, both considered valuable fuel stock.

The summer pastures were divided among families. Popular grazing and camping sites included:

Changma, Chortenchan, Makkarmo, Zurler, Yarley, and Phan.Toward the east, near Martho Phu, additional grazing grounds included: Kungkungmar and Chatkangchan.

Ven Thupten Konchok le, aged 97

 

6th July 2025 — On the auspicious occasion of the 90th birthday of His Holiness the 14th Dalai Lama, at Sabu Gompa with Ven Thupten Konchok le, aged 97

Ven Thupten Konchok is perhaps the only living person in all of Ladakh who holds the rare distinction of having attended the very first Kalachakra initiation conferred by His Holiness the 14th Dalai Lama, in May 1954, at Norbulingka Palace in Lhasa.

Konchok was around sixteen years old when he left Ladakh to pursue higher studies in Tibet. “When I departed,” he recalls, “India was still under British rule. But by the time I returned thirteen years later, India had become an independent country and both His Holiness the Dalai Lama and the Panchen Lama were visiting as state guests.”

He remembers the historic Kalachakra initiation vividly—a momentous occasion attended by the leading lamas of all the major Buddhist schools of Tibet. One detail stands out in his memory with clarity: His Holiness wore a unique ceremonial robe known as the Rusgyan (from rus, meaning ‘bone’). Ven Thupten Konchok notes that he has never seen His Holiness wear that sacred attire again in any subsequent Kalachakra initiation.

Among other cherished memories, he recalls the grand Togo celebration of Sras Rinpoche in Tibet, an elaborate and joyous event attended by the 19th Bakula Rinpoche. At that time, Lhasa was a thriving spiritual and cultural hub, regularly visited by Ladakhi pilgrims during both summer and winter seasons. The Kalimpong route was commonly taken in winter, while in summer, pilgrims traversed the Changthang plateau, often accompanying the triannual trade mission known as the Lopchak. 

Ven Thupten Konchok is possibly the only living Ladakhi today to have witnessed the arrival of the historical Lopchak missions in Lhasa.He recalls that the Leh Kalon family, the Sra Nyar family, and the Khoja family were the key households entrusted with leading these diplomatic-commercial missions. In  particular, he remembers the Kalon family’s head and Dawa Shah, who would enter the Potala Palace wearing tall ceremonial hats made of makhmal (velvet). The mission leaders were permitted to bring four to five attendants to the audience with His Holiness. From one such attendant, Ven Konchok learned that His Holiness often inquired about the well-being of the Ladakhi royal family.

Phuntog Tundup (aged 71), of the Chuyinkpa Family, Photoksar Village

 

Phuntog Tundup, a lifelong resident of Photoksar, recalls the oral histories passed down by his elders. According to him, the earliest settlers of Photoksar were Brokpas. However, in ancient times, an unusually heavy snowfall devastated the region, destroying crops and making life unsustainable. As a result, the Brokpa settlers are said to have abandoned the village of Photoksar.

Tundup spent most of his life as a Barzee—a traditional herder responsible for tending to the livestock of fellow villagers in the high-altitude pastures. In return for this service, he was required to pay a Shey (fee), typically four battis (measures) of butter for every one demo (female yak or cow) he tended. Whatever remained—be it butter or produce—was his to keep.

Around the age of twenty, Tundup began travelling to Leh, carrying with him butter and churpi for sale. From the modest income he earned in the Leh market, he would purchase essentials such as tea, salt, and spices. He distinctly remembers his elders sourcing salt from the Changthang region, which he describes as being far tastier and more desirable than the salt later distributed through government ration shops.

Wool from local livestock was often insufficient for the needs of the Photoksar villagers. As a result, they would purchase additional wool from Changpa traders who brought it from the Changthang plateau and sold it in Leh. According to Tundup, Changthang wool was of exceptional quality, available in shades of white, black, and beige. He recalls paying approximately ₹250 per kilogram for the best grade wool.

Apart from his herding duties, Tundup was also skilled in various traditional Ladakhi crafts. Using the wool collected during his time in the mountains, he produced tsali, tsogtul, shoes, and rebo. He also crafted traditional baskets known as tsepo. Unlike the people of Hanupata, who typically used chipkyang for their baskets, Tundup preferred Langmey, a sturdier plant he considered more durable.

He also recalls that in earlier times, his elders prepared and sold charcoal at a site known as Ashkuta Rong. During those years, Balti traders would make annual visits to Photoksar, often purchasing livestock from local residents.

Of historical interest is Tundup’s reference to Photoksar’s past reputation as a source of rare iron in Ladakh. He speaks of a bao (cave) in the nearby hamlet of Machu Pharka, where iron smelting was once practiced. Another smelting site is located in Ashkuta, where iron was similarly extracted and forged. The iron from these sites was used to manufacture tsogtse and khem.

With Sonam Norpel, 78, of the Malaps Family, Hanupata.

According to Sonam Norpel, aged 78, of the Malaps family in Hanupata village, the origins of the village trace back to an accidental discovery by his ancestors. He believes that the early settlers of Hanupata came from the Changthang region. This belief is supported by the presence of the village’s guardian deity, Kajukongta, who is also venerated in parts of Changthang, especially in Shachukul. The first family to settle in Hanupata was the Khangchenpa, followed by the Zingzhukpa and Yokmapa families—each of whom are believed to have migrated from Changthang. Today, the villagers maintain phaspun (ritual kinship ties) with relatives across Zanskar, Changthang, and Leh.

In earlier times, Sonam Norpel’s family had three primary sources of salt:

1. Gifts from Relatives in Lamayuru

The main source was salt gifted by members of the Shutupa family in Lamayuru. The elder of that family used to travel to Tibet specifically to procure salt, which was then shared with kin.

2. Shamma Traders from Takmachik and Tingmosgang

Another source was through occasional visits by Shamma traders from villages like  Takmachik and Tingmosgang, who typically arrived in the ninth month. These traders sourced salt either directly from Tibet or indirectly from Changpa traders who frequented the salt markets at Sakti and Chemrey.

There were two kinds of Shamma traders: those who had been to Sakti and those who hadn’t. The latter group only traded in apricots. Besides salt and apricots, Shamma traders were also known to travel further into Zanskar and Lingshed, where they purchased livestock.In Hanupata, the money used to purchase salt and goods often came from the sale of livestock to buyers from Chiktan. Sonam recalls that in his father’s time, a yak would sell for Rs 300—a price that today has risen to around Rs 1,00,000.

3. Local Purchase by Sirilupa Elder

The third source was a local elder from the Sirilupa family in Hanupata, who would personally travel to Sakti to buy salt and bring it back to the village.

Wool was also a traded necessity. While the village produced some wool, it was not sufficient for all needs. Local wool was used primarily for the warp, whereas the softer, high-quality wool from Changthang—purchased in Leh—was used for the weft in weaving.

Trade and Travel Routes

The primary direction of trade and travel for Hanupata villagers was towards Lamayuru and Wanla. Journeys towards Lingshed were rare and usually undertaken for pilgrimage purposes. The most frequented route passed through the Gyapola pass to Wanla, and from there either to Lamayuru or Khaltse. The main reason for visiting Lamayuru was to access the government ration shop.

During the summer, villagers from Photoksar would also use this route, as the usual Rong path would be rendered impassable due to swollen waters.

Another important source of income for Sonam’s family came from weaving traditional baskets known as Tsepo. There were two main varieties:

• Tsepo made from Sed

Collected in the autumn from nearby hills, Sed was soaked in water over the winter and then used for weaving in spring. These baskets were durable and thus more expensive.

• Tsepo made from Chipkyang

Cheaper and less long-lasting, baskets made from Chipkyang sold at a lower price.

As a young man, Sonam would carry about 12 Tsepo baskets to sell in the Tia and Tingmosgang area, fetching roughly Rs 2.50 each. Today, a Sed basket sells for around Rs 100, while the more delicately woven Chipkyang variant fetches up to Rs 800.

At Digar with Ama Phunstog Dolma , age 84.

Phunstog Dolma was born into the affluent Amchi family of Labab, a small hamlet situated along the traditional route to Khyungru and Digar. Labab is a small settlement, home to just two families.

Dolma  recalls that during her youth, the broader region experienced widespread poverty, and many households frequently ran short of food supplies. Unlike the nearby villages of Tangyar and Khema, where wheat cultivation was not possible due to a harsher, colder climate, Labab’s relatively temperate conditions made it suitable for growing wheat, barley, and peas.

Her family, among the wealthiest in the area was especially known for loaning grain to households from nearby settlements. Every spring, families would arrive to borrow grain, which they would repay following the autumn harvest. The prevailing interest rate at the time was five battis (approximately 10 kilograms) for every four battis borrowed, a customary practice rooted in trust and reciprocity.

Dolma vividly recalls that around the age of 15, Changpa traders would descend from the Nibukla Pass, stopping at Tangyar with their Changluks ( sheep) pack animals laden with salt and wool. After trading these goods in Nubra, the Changpas would return with wheat, which they could not cultivate in their high-altitude pastures.

At Labab, Dolma remembers her mother storing salt in large, earthen containers. This clean, reddish salt was prized for its flavour and primarily used in the preparation of butter tea. The two resident families of Labab wove their own woolen garments: local wool was used to spin the spun (warp), while the finer wool purchased from the Changpas was reserved for weaving the gyu (weft), producing warmer and more refined clothing.

At Digar with Aba Rinchen Gyalpo, aged 95

 

Rinchen Gyalpo of the Kulpa family in Digar has lived a long and eventful life as both zamindar and trader. For much of his life, he cultivated barley, peas, and mustard. But he also engaged in the seasonal trade of salt and wool with Nubra, sourcing his goods from the Changpa nomads who visited Tangyar.

The Changpas arrived in Tangyar carrying salt, wool, butter, cheese, and dried meat. In return, they bartered for barley. The standard exchange rate, as Rinchen recalls, was one batti (roughly 2 kilograms) of salt for one and a half battis of barley. The Tangyar market was a lively scene, drawing not only villagers but also traders from Nubra and Baltistan, many of whom travelled with doltoks, heavy stone pots,strapped to their backs.

During the summer months, Rinchen Gyalpo would buy salt and wool from the Changpas and carry it to Nubra to trade for wheat. While the Nubrapas who came to Tangyar offered three battis of wheat for a single batti of wool, Rinchen could often double his return by selling directly in Nubra,fetching up to 6 battis, and occasionally even 24 kilograms, depending on market demand.

His journeys took him to distant villages such as Panamik, Chamshen, and Yarma. Travel was made mostly on horseback or with the help of dzos and yaks. Donkeys, were a rare sight in those days.

Gyalpo was around 30 when he first began trading as a supplementary source of income. He continued to do so periodically until his final trading trip, which took place shortly before the 1971 war with Pakistan. It has now been more than fifty years, he says, since the Changpa caravans last visited these routes.

For additional household shopping,especially during the summer and around Losar Rinchen would undertake overnight journeys to Leh via the Digar La pass. There, he would sell his barley in the bustling chang market at Naushehar, where women from various households sat selling chang (local barley wine). He fondly recounts : the women sellers would compete for barley, offering cups of chang to the sellers.

“By the time a person reached the end of the market,” he’d be drunk from sipping chang from every seller"

At Sumdo, Rupsho : With Aba Dorjey Tsetup , Now 86

Dorjey Tsetup is a Tibetan refugee and a former professional gold miner, known in Tibet as a Thokpa. He has lived in India since 1959, after fleeing Tibet, abandoning his ancestral profession as a gold miner.

In Tibet, Dorjey worked in a goldfield located in his native village of Mugnak. The site was widely known as Mugnak Thok: the Mugnak Goldfield. According to him, the hamlet of Mugnak lay approximately two days by horseback from Rudok.

Gold mining at Mugnak was carried out solely by the local villagers. Each family had its own assigned pit from which gold-bearing soil was extracted. A miner would be securely tied to a rope and carefully lowered into these vertical shafts, often more than 20 feet deep.

Inside, the miner would use animal horns to dig out chunks of earth, which were then pulled up by family members stationed at the surface.

This demanding work continued year-round. During the harsh winters, when the soil became frozen and unyielding, miners employed a traditional method to soften it: they would burn large quantities of dried animal dung at the bottom of the pit overnight. The fire’s heat would thaw the earth by morning, allowing the digging to resume. Since the interiors of these pits remained dark even in broad daylight, miners relied on lamps fueled by animal fat for illumination underground.

Dorjey recalls regularly descending into these pits on behalf of his family. Once the soil reached the surface, it was crushed into finer granules using animal horns. The loosened earth was then washed to separate out the gold. Water for this process had to be fetched from a faraway river known as Changding Tso, and was transported in bags made from sheepskin. The washing itself took place in wooden trays called Jhongba, traditionally used for gold panning.

Despite the strenuous labour involved, the amount of gold recovered was typically modest. The gold was never exchanged for cash. Instead, it was bartered with local Chukpo: wealthy livestock owners in Rudok, in return for basic necessities such as meat, butter, or cheese.

Hanle:Tsering Dorjey, 86 years old.

 

Tsering Dorjey is among the most experienced men one can meet in the Rupsho region of southeastern Ladakh. According to Dorjey, people from Hanle and the surrounding areas once sourced salt from three principal locations:

Mindum Tsaka, the farthest, a 14-day journey from Hanle

Takdong, about 9 days

Gertse, roughly a week

These arduous journeys were undertaken twice a year, once in autumn/winter, setting out around the ninth lunar month and returning by the twelfth, lasting nearly three months; and again in spring, returning by early summer, typically within two and a half months.

Dorjey first travelled to Mindum Tsaka at the age of 16 with his uncle. He recalls stepping into the lake itself and extracting salt using a long-handled tool called Chalkyam or Kaduk. This work lasted 3–4 days, after which the salt was left to dry for another 3–4 days. Once dried, it was packed into lugals ( pair of bags loaded on sheep) for the journey back to Hanle. By the time they returned, the lugals had shrunk noticeably due to the loss of moisture.

At Takdong, which Dorjey visited at 18, there were no lakes and salt was extracted from the base of a mountain using a pickaxe called Togtsey. Unlike Mindum Tsaka, the salt here was already dry and ready for immediate transport.

Gertse, like Mindum Tsaka, was also a lake source.

Dorjey remembers encountering large groups of Shamma traders at all three locations. These traders were distinct in that they travelled with donkeys, unlike the locals who used sheep.

Salt collectors were required to pay a fixed tax at each lake. At Gertse, the tax was one rupee per khalba ( male sheep) paid in a coin known as a Jau. Each lake had only a single route in and out, making it impossible to evade tax collectors, who camped strategically along the trails. However, Dorjey recalls that 20–30% discounts were often granted in exchange for food gifts.

Hanle : Sonam Dechen, 93 years old.

Sonam Dechen is among the last living witnesses in Ladakh to have journeyed to the legendary salt lakeof Mindum Tsaka to procure salt for trade in Ladakh and the Spiti Valley of Himachal Pradesh. He made this arduous journey three times, the final one when he was 25. Each time, he served as a Lukzee, a sheep herder and porter for local trading parties. The route led from Hanle across Poti La, then onward through Koyul and Demchok, and eventually to the salt lake. The route involved crossing 4 main passes. The return journey took 2 months. Sonam Dechen recalls traveling in a small caravan of around four men and nearly 200 sheep. These salt expeditions were typically undertaken twice a year, during the spring and autumn seasons.

At the lake, a levy called the Tsa-Yon, a salt tax or fee was paid to the officials who supervised access to the site. Using a traditional shovel-like tool called a Kadung, the traders scooped up crystallized salt and piled it into conical heaps along the shore. The salt was left to dry for about a week before being loaded onto Ladakhi sheep.

Once back from Mindum Tsaka, the traders would head either toward Spiti or to settlements in Ladakh’s Indus Valley, places like Martselang, Leh, and Sakti, to barter the salt. In those days, the exchange rate was three battis of salt for one batti of barley.

At Rongo, Rupsho, with Chamchot Tashi, 79, and Urgain Dolma.

 

According to Aba Tashi, in earlier times, Pashmina did not hold the high value it commands today. Any small amount of Pashmina available was traditionally offered to the monasteries. A monk, known as a Leesee, would visit Rongo in the fourth or fifth month, specifically tasked with counting the Pashmina goats. An equivalent number of rounded Pashmina balls would then be offered to him. It was much later that Pashmina began to gain its current worth. The annual visit of the Leesee monk to Rongo, and this tradition, ceased approximately 30 years ago.

Historically, villages in the vicinity shared a deeply symbiotic relationship with the Hemis monastery. Pasturelands in the region were specifically designated and named according to the animals reared for the monasteries in the region:

• Raque: for the monastery's goats.

• Maque: for rearing female sheep.

• Deque: for Demo (a type of cow-yak hybrid) and Yak.

• Kharluk: for Khalba (male sheep).

• Barzee: located just beyond the Hanle monastery, for cows.

• Chips se Goba was the term for the person or place responsible for caring for the horses.

When Tashi was around 14, his uncle would embark on salt-sourcing journeys to Mindun Tsaka, located beyond Demchok. They would travel with sheep, not horses, taking the well-trodden road from Dumtsele. These expeditions typically occurred in the eighth or ninth month of the year. After acquiring the salt, they would rest for about two weeks before heading to villages near Leh, such as Leh itself, Martho, and Stok, to trade the salt for barley.

The same villagers also made annual trips to Himachal Pradesh, this time to sell wool in exchange for rice. Tashi distinctly remembers one such journey in 1962 when he accompanied his uncle. Their route took them towards Chumur, a day's journey, then to Tega Zong, and finally across the snow-covered Parangla Pass. They would cross Parangla in the middle of the night to avoid avalanches.

The journey from Chumur to Spiti took five days, passing through Sergatha, Takchuthang, Tarakurkur, and Lakartsey. In Spiti, they traded their sheared wool for a different variety of barley, which Tashi called Sua. Rice was sourced from areas further beyond Spiti within Himachal Pradesh. For these arduous trips, they exclusively used male sheep, known as Khalba, numbering about 30. Four men would accompany them, opting for Khalba over goats due to their wool-bearing capacity and superior sturdiness for carrying loads over long distances.

Lato, Rupsho.

 

Aba Sonam Angdu, 77, and his wife Tsering Langzey, 80, reside in Loma, a hamlet renowned for its bridge over the Indus, which tourists cross en route to Hanle. Sonam Angdu spent most of his youth working as a Lukzee- a person primarily responsible for tending to the sheep and goats. He recalls that around the age of 16, he would frequently travel to Leh with his father to trade sheep wool. They would load approximately 200 male sheep (Khalba) and male goats (Rabo) with empty saddlebags, known as lugals. These expeditions involved three to four men, with one Lukzee  Upon reaching villages like Sakti, Chemrey, and Martselang, his father would begin selling wool, sheared on-site, in exchange for barley and wheat, which would then fill the empty lugals.

He remembers his father undertaking long journeys towards the east of Demchok to source salt for resale in Ladakh. After access to these sources was lost due to geopolitical reasons, around 1959, his father and other people in the region began crossing the Polokongka La to source salt from Tsokar Lake in the Samad Rakchan region, towards Kharnak. He recalls that villagers from the Samad Rakchan settlements around the lake had stationed guards to prevent unauthorized salt collection.

Sonam Angdu visited Spiti in Himachal Pradesh three times. While other informants in nearby Rupshu villages stated that the journey from Chumur to Spiti took four or five days, Sonam Angdu's return journey took approximately two months, likely due to his role as a lukzee rather than a trader. After traveling for a few days towards Chumur, the last settlement before reaching Spiti, the shepherds would often rest there for several days to allow the sheep to recuperate, a practice known as Changma in the local language. 

He remembers traveling to Spiti during winters with the sheep. During these times, he often preferred to travel at night, especially when crossing glaciers, as these glaciers were prone to avalanches. The risk of avalanches was reduced at night when the ice held better due to the cold. He remembers how a member of the team would travel in front of the animals to find the route through the snow and the mountains, and the hundreds of sheep and goats would follow in a single line. After crossing the Parangla and reaching Spiti, he remembers witnessing a local market where wool, wheat, and rice were exchanged. This market was frequented by traders from Karja and nearby villages. 

He worked like this until the age of 25. Later, when he wanted to join the Indian Army, his father did not let him do so as he wanted him to stay close to them.Life was tough, and despite the trade, villagers faced problems. During these times, they would seek assistance from the Hemis Chakzot, who would loan them grains that were repaid the following year in the form of wool, Pashmina, or livestock.