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

 

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.

At Chumur with Ama Tsetan Angmole, 82-year-old.

For centuries, the people of Rupsho, including those from Chumur, Hanle, Korzok, Loma, Rongo and other villages have embraced a nomadic pastoralist lifestyle. Interestingly, despite its geographical distance from Korzok, Chumur shares a unique administrative bond, falling under the purview of Korzok's single headman, known as the Goba in Ladakhi.

I met Ama Tsetan when she was camped with her goats and sheep in Tarla, a spot on the way to Chumur. She and other villagers from Chumur had been there for four months and were soon heading back home with their herds, timing their return to match that of Korzok residents who had been camped nearby.

Ama Tsetan vividly recalled that before 1959, her father and other men from Chumur would journey to regions beyond Demchok to source salt for trading. Life was undeniably tough, marked by severe food scarcity. This hardship necessitated two annual trips to the salt lakes, one in summer and another in autumn.

According to Ama Tsetan and other sources, once back the men quickly venture into either Zanskar or Spiti in Himachal Pradesh to trade this salt along with wool.

The men from Rupsho had established specific routes for their trading expeditions:

To Zanskar: They would cross the Polokonga Pass, connect with the present-day Leh-Manali route, and enter Zanskar near the Lingti River. From there, they'd disperse into the Lungnak and Stod regions of Zanskar to trade their salt and wool for barley.

To Spiti: This route took them through the Parangla Pass, a journey of four to five days from Chumur.

Their visits to Spiti served different purposes depending on the season:

Summer visits coincided with the sheep and goat shearing season. During these trips, they primarily sold wool and a limited amount of salt, with the animals often shorn right there in Spiti.

Autumn visits were dedicated to trading salt, and importantly, to selling sheep for meat.

Ama Tsetan shared that barley was the typical item received in barter for their goods. This was crucial for survival, as the extreme cold in Chumur made crop cultivation incredibly challenging.

At Khema Village with Ama Tashi Palmo.

Tashi Palmo, 80, from Khema village, fondly recalls the once-bustling market in the neighboring village of Tangyar, where the men of Khema regularly sourced salt and wool. While Tangyar remained the primary commercial hub, a handful of Changpa traders occasionally journeyed directly to Khema, providing a secondary supply of these vital goods. Among them was a prominent trader, Changpa Namlang, who would stay in the village for around fifteen days during his visits. Among the many goods they brought, the most eagerly awaited by Khema’s women was the rare charu, a luxurious fur garment traditionally worn with the perak, the iconic Ladakhi headdress. Charu was crafted from the soft hide of a young sheep, barely a year old, locally known as Lugu. 

These traders typically camped in two fields on the outskirts of Khema, named, Goma and Langya, particularly in the autumn months when the fields lay fallow. In contrast, summer visits were rare, as there were no open spaces available for encampment; during that season, the Changpas confined their trade to Tangyar. 

Palmo also recalls a time when nearly every household in the region depended on grain loans from wealthy families such as the Katong and Lababs. These loans, typically of barley, were taken for both household consumption and agricultural sowing. Repayment was expected after the autumn harvest. The traditional interest rate, known as del, required the borrower to return one khal (equivalent to 12 kilograms) for every four khals borrowed. Later, through the efforts of the late 19th Bakula Rinpoche, this rate was reduced to one khal per eight khals borrowed, before the practice of charging interest was abolished altogether.

One particularly vivid memory Palmo shares is of a practice involving the seasonal rearing of livestock for Nubra families. Wealthy pastoralists from Nubra, unable to graze their large herds during the summer months, would entrust goats and sheep to trusted families in Khema. From the fourth month of the Ladakhi calendar until autumn, these animals would graze on Khema’s more abundant pastures.

The arrangement was mutually beneficial. The host families in Khema retained the manure, a valuable agricultural resource, while the livestock owners benefited from summer grazing. If a goat produced sufficient milk, the Khema family owed the owner one khal of barley. For lesser yields, the payment was halved. No payment was due for non-milking animals. In cases where an animal died, the caretakers were obliged to prove that the death was genuine and not a case of illicit sale. This verification practice, known as Shindas Stongyas, involved preserving parts of the deceased animal, most often its ears, as evidence.

When Palmo was a child, only three families in Khema participated in this practice. Over time, the number grew to nine, forming a group locally referred to as the Ratcho. Her own family took on the responsibility of rearing as many as 300 goats and sheep from the Labak family of Sumur in Nubra.

The Salt Market of Nubra: Recollections of Aba Sonam Wangchuk of Tangyar.

Aba Sonam Wangchuk, a 76-year-old elder from Tangyar village, belonging to the Tokpopa family, recalls a vital yet now largely forgotten chapter in Ladakh’s trade history.  Till about 40 years ago Tangyar served as a key epicentre for the salt and wool trade supplying the entire Nubra region.

According to Aba Wangchuk, Changpa traders from the highlands south of Rudok would visit Tangyar twice annually. Their first visit, during the fifth month of the Ladakhi lunar calendar, was known as Yartsong, the summer market. The second, more significant visit occurred during the autumn months of September-October, and was known as Stontsong.

The autumn trade was primarily focused on salt, butter, and dried meat, all carried in twin panniers slung across sheep. The Changpa caravans would travel via Durbuk and Reli Chiling, crossing the high Neebula Pass to reach Tangyar. Upon arrival, they were allowed to camp only on the agricultural land owned by the Spituk Labrang. This was a long-standing custom that served dual purposes: it regulated the flow of outside traders, and the presence of large flocks of sheep helped naturally fertilise the monastery's fields. The Labrang, which once housed 3–4 monks, today lies in a dilapidated state.

Aba vividly remembers his friend Sonam Tundup, a trader who would arrive with up to 300 sheep, each laden with salt. The Changpa would pitch their black yak-hair tents on the Labrang land, and the seasonal trade would commence supplying much of Nubra with its annual requirement of salt and other essentials.

In contrast, the Yartsong market in summer focused mainly on the sale of wool, though smaller quantities of salt were also exchanged. Since the agricultural fields were under cultivation, the Changpa would camp in the nearby phu (high pasture). These pastures transformed into vibrant trading hubs during the season. The traders would shear their sheep on site, and sell the freshly shorn wool to villagers from Tangyar and traders from Nubra who made their way up to the phu.

Trade relationships during Yartsong were deeply personal and long-standing. Aba speaks fondly of his trading friends Karma and Sonam Tashi, with whom exchanges were often based on verbal agreements known as lochat or chatka, promises to deliver a fixed quantity of goods by a specified time the following year. These informal contracts were rarely broken, a testament to the ethical fabric of the barter system.

Wool formed a crucial source of income for many families in Tangyar. During the winter months, when wool fetched higher prices in the lower valleys, households would undertake journeys to Nubra. Salt, surplus from the Changpa trade  was often carried along as an additional commodity. Sonam Wangchuk himself recalls traveling to Yarma, passing through Agyam and Tirit on horseback, usually accompanied by two or three helpers. Trade in Nubra was conducted almost entirely on a barter basis, exchanging wool and salt for wheat, peas, and pulses.

Rangdum Village.

Tsering Tundup, 75 Yrs, from Rangdum remembers being just eight years old when he first accompanied his father on a trading journey to Zanskar. Their main objective was to acquire salt and Barley. At Rangdum where the harsh climate and barren soils made agriculture nearly impossible barley was sourced from Zanskar.

Rangdum’s true wealth, however, lay in its vast grazing lands. These high-altitude pastures sustained large herds of livestock, making dairy products, especially butter and chhurpi (hardened cheese) the backbone of the local economy. Like most families in the village, Tsering’s father would carry butter, chhurpi, and a small amount of cash to trade in Zanskar, exchanging them for grain and salt.

While barley was sourced from Zanskari households, the salt was acquired directly from the Changpa traders.

Tsering recalls being around 30 years old when the Changpa caravans abruptly stopped coming, a sudden end to a centuries-old trade route.

Unlike the people of Parkachik, the villagers of Rangdum were largely self-sufficient in wool, owing to their sizeable herds. Many households not only fulfilled their own needs but were also able to sell surplus wool and butter in Leh. Tsering made his first journey to Leh around the age of 25 and continued the practice for many years, traveling either via Kargil or the Kanji route. After reaching Henasku or the main highway near Kanji, he would often find transport with passing trucks or vehicles.

Each journey to Leh involved carrying approximately 15–20 kilograms of wool and 40 kilograms of butter. The butter fetched a respectable Rs 30–40 while the wool earned only Rs 5–6 per kilogram, a modest return for the effort and distance involved. To supplement their income, Tsering’s family also sold livestock to Balti traders, who would periodically visit Rangdum.