The exploration of the great Sutlej River Valley Citadel

On the Upper Tibet Rock Art Expedition II, I finally reached a destination in my sights for over a decade. I first heard of Sutlej River Valley Citadel (a sobriquet) in 2000, but was repeatedly prevented from reaching it due to high water. This impressive archaeological site, located in the Guge district of western Tibet (Ngari), consists of a large stronghold sitting atop a rocky eminence. There is also a village of smaller residences, a line of recently looted chortens, and a lower complex of buildings. Where many hundreds of people once lived there is now not a single soul. The site was completely vacated before living memory. According to the oral tradition of the region, the castle here was ruled over by a figure called Darkam Pawo (Dpa’-bo = Hero).

A large shelf rises above the north bank of the Sutlej River upon which stands a craggy mount. On top and on the upper flanks of this naturally protected hill are the circumvallating ramparts and well-constructed buildings belonging to the fortress. The imposing Sutlej River Valley Citadel is located not so far downstream from Khyunglung (Horned-eagle Valley) village. In ancient times, this stretch of the valley may possibly have been known as Khyunglung as well. At present, there is no way to ascertain if Sutlej River Valley citadel corresponds to one of the three Zhang Zhung castles that existed in Khyunglung, according to Bon literary sources. There are other ruined strongholds in the vicinity. It appears that Sutlej River Valley Citadel stood guard over a key river crossing connecting the two territorial halves of Guge. The sheer size and geographic placement of the facility points to it as having been of considerable regional importance.

Fig. 1. The great Sutlej River Valley Citadel photographed from the opposite side of the river. The tall ramparts surrounding the ancient installation are visible, as are a few old residences and the line of chortens at the foot of the mount.

On the precipitous slopes below the citadel extending as far down as the foot of the hill are the remains of 14 domiciles. Most of these residences as well as the buildings of the citadel itself are of an all-stone corbelled composition. This archaic style of construction may have arisen in Upper Tibet as early as the first half of the first millennium BCE. The corbelled architecture of the region appears to have a long history, with buildings possibly being made in this fashion as late as the 10^th century CE (for more information on the chronology of all-stone corbelled architecture in Upper Tibet, see the books Antiquities of Upper Tibet and Zhang Zhung, and the website thlib.org/bellezza).

The founding date of Sutlej River Valley Citadel remains to be determined. Nevertheless, an early historic period (650–1000 CE) establishment may be indicated for at least some of the ruins, given their mix of architectonic specifications. In addition to all-stone corbelled structures, there are high, straight stone walls in the facility; these could only have supported roofs built with wooden timbers. The existence of stone and wooden roofs in integrally created buildings may signal a historic era chronology.

Sutlej River Valley Citadel appears to have enjoyed various phases of construction and habitation. Except for a line of ruined chortens at the base of the citadel mount, there are no recognizable Buddhist monuments at the site. These chortens were built of adobe blocks. Their method of construction and style suggest that they were added to the site circa 1000–1200 CE. The chortens were planted well away from the residential structures, hinting that they belonged to disparate religious orientations. With the rise of the Guge-Purang kingdom at the end of the 10^th century CE, numerous residential sites were redeveloped in Guge as Buddhist monasteries, temples and retreats. Nonetheless, many other ancient sites were never intensively reoccupied and made do with arrays of Buddhist ceremonial monuments. Typically, only chortens and mani walls came up at locations generally overlooked for permanent residency. The erection of ceremonial monuments functioned to bring older places of habitation ritually and symbolically into the Buddhist ambit. That no Buddhist temples appeared at Sutlej River Valley Citadel strongly suggests that it was already in decline by the dawn of the second millennium CE. Had it been otherwise, such a large and strategically important center would surely have supported a more elaborate Buddhist infrastructure (as was the case at many dozens of other Guge sites). This is not to say, however, that Sutlej River Valley Citadel was totally abandoned in the Buddhist era. Travelers and shepherds at minimum would have passed through it, as they still do from time to time.

That Sutlej River Valley Citadel underwent different phases of construction is also indicated in the reconstruction of two stone lintels using tamarisk (?) timbers. Small rounds of wood from both of these lintels were extracted for radiocarbon analysis. This work was undertaken by the well-known Beta Analytic lab (Miami) and was generously funded by the Tibetan Medical Foundation (Weslaco). The assayed timbers date to circa 1450 to 1600 CE; their chronometric parameters very closely aligned with one another. One of the composite lintels is found in the largest structure of Sector IV of the citadel, the other in the highest of individual residences situated just below the ramparts. The wooden additions are rudimentary in nature and out of character with the high quality masonry fabric of the site. We might infer from the acquired chronometric data that buildings of Sutlej River Valley Citadel were being used as late as 1600 CE, but only marginally so. This may have been an occupation comprising a relatively small group of farmers rather than a sociopolitical elite (analogous to the one that constructed the stronghold). In any event, the shelf below the citadel was once intensively cultivated. Depopulation and desiccation in the region, probably in tandem with one another, spelt the end to agriculture at Sutlej River Valley Citadel. When farming at the site was halted (or for that matter when it began) is not yet known.

Fig. 2. The Sutlej River Valley and defunct agricultural zone below the citadel. There is no longer a perennial source of water in the two gorges flanking the citadel mount. The berms and terraces of the erstwhile fields are still clearly discernable. These former arable lands with their thick, loamy soil are spread over an area of approximately 600 m x 500 m. In all probability, barley was once cultivated here, irrigated with water that came from the western gorge (right side of image).

Another possible sign of different phases of construction at Sutlej River Valley Citadel is the village of small houses. These are built outside the protective embrace of the fortress, leaving them vulnerable to any hostile incursion. I suspect that they appeared in a strategic environment different from the one in which the hilltop installation was first established. This altered strategic world may have occurred with the unification of the Tibetan Plateau under King Songtsen Gampo, in the 7^th century CE. During the imperial period, regional rivalries were dampened by a conquest-driven military machine controlled by the emperors (btsan-po). In contrast, in the protohistoric period (100 BCE–650 CE), localized defense was a huge preoccupation, with virtually every agricultural enclave in western Tibet having been reinforced with a hilltop safehold. Perhaps therefore the first phase of construction at Sutlej River Valley Citadel dates to this more remote epoch.

Sutlej River Valley Citadel in figures and photos

The summit of Sutlej River Valley Citadel is situated at 4175 m elevation. Along its east-west axis, the installation is 202 m in length, and contains a dense collection of buildings. These structures were primarily built of blue and tan sandstone slabs and blocks. Sutlej River Valley Citadel walls are generally 30 cm to 60 cm thick, some of which were built of thin slabs of stone 10 cm to 30 cm in length. I have divided this once mighty stronghold into five sectors :

Sector I (11.3 m x 11.5 m): The lowest and narrowest portion of the citadel, which overlooks the eastern gorge. Contained around 12 buildings and rooms of various sizes.

Sector II (14.5 m x 27 m): Contained around 23 buildings and rooms.

Sector III (44 m x 40.5 m): Contained around 30 buildings and rooms.

Sector IV (46 m x 25 m): The highest portion of the summit. Walls in this sector reach a maximum of 5.7 m in height, the tallest at the site. Contained at least 42 buildings and rooms.

Sector V (48 m x 16 m). Situated on the west end of the summit. Contained approximately 39 buildings and rooms.

Fig. 3. A view to the east overlooking the ruins in sectors IV and V of the citadel. Note the light-colored clay-based mortar used in the seams of the walls. There is also a longitudinal upper wall segment made of this same material (right foreground), a highly unusual structural material. This type of wall could only have supported a lighter roof made of wooden members.

Fig. 4. The sprawling citadel from the southeast. Not much more than half of this once very substantial installation is visible in the photograph.

Fig. 5. The building with the tallest walls in Sector IV of the citadel, situated on the highest portion of the summit. Like other buildings at the site, the random-rubble slab walls were very adeptly built. In the forward portion of this two-story structure is an opening (approximately 1.2 m in height) with a stone lintel. This may have been the egress of a latrine pit.

Fig. 6. An entranceway (90 cm x 60 cm) connecting two rooms in Sector I. This is one of the only entrances that remains intact in the ruined facility. The lintel (1 m long) has broken in half. Above it is an aperture (35 cm x 30 cm) with its own lintel. Doorways are typically small in the all-stone corbelled architecture of Upper Tibet. Much of the clay-based plaster is still affixed to the walls.

Fig. 7. An intact bridging stone in the north wall of Sector II. In the wall below there is a niche, one of many found in the interior walls of the citadel.

Fig. 8. A structure almost entirely engulfed by rubble in Sector III. Two large corbels are still in situ, signaling that this was an all-stone corbelled edifice. Also note the curvature in the rear wall of the structure, another trait of this type of architecture. The rear wall was set deeply into the steep slope, which must have given the building a semi-subterranean aspect. It is common in Upper Tibet to find this kind of structure built partially underground.

Fig. 9. Portion of a stone slab floor in Sector III. There is a shallow cavity underneath the stone flooring. This construction is but one indication of the great care and skill that went into building Sutlej River Valley Citadel. Its construction was underwritten by a powerful economic order, like the one explored in last month’s newsletter.

Fig. 10. The wooden lintel over the opening in the east wall of the main structure of Sector IV. This entrance accesses a small chamber that also opens on the south side of the structure (see Fig. 5). The smaller broken round of wood in the foreground was extracted and used in radiometric analysis. This timber dates to circa 1450–1600 CE. The position of the wooden members in this wall indicates that much of it had been rebuilt. Centrally located on the highest part of the summit, this edifice may have been the political and social core of the original installation. It might be in recognition of this lofty status that reconstruction was undertaken by later tenants, as part of a bid to recapture a glorious past.

Thirteen or 14 individual residences occupy the central part of the site. These domiciles contained from one or two rooms up to six rooms. Most were raised using the Upper Tibetan all-stone corbelling technique of construction. DK 11 is the most westerly of these residences and is located 40 m east of the chorten complex. In addition to the houses there are other structural remains in the vicinity, which may possibly have comprised two larger open-plan buildings. On the southeast corner of the shelf directly overlooking the Sutlej River are the remains of four heavily built residential structures. The function of this poorly preserved residential complex is unknown.

Fig. 11. The forward wall (2.1 m high) of the highest elevation individual residence at the site. It has been designated DK1. This small building (3 m x 1.7 m) was built into the layered rock of the formation. The window opening (40 cm x 35 cm) is supported by a stone lintel. However, on its interior side several small rounds of tamarisk (?) were added to the lintel assembly.

Fig. 12. A close-up of the lintel in DK 1. The cracked round of wood was extracted for radiocarbon testing. It yielded a date of circa 1450–1600 CE. In fact, its calibration curves very closely match that of the dated timber from Sector IV of the citadel. The pieces of wood used in DK I represent an improvisation, possibly added to weatherproof the wall around window opening. It appears that one of the stone slabs of the lintel had broken, creating a gap in the wall. The repair undertaken is rudimentary in character, a far cry from the original construction of the various individual domiciles and citadel. It would appear that far fewer economic resources were available to these later inhabitants of the site. Their tenure at the site appears to have been much more tenuous than when Sutlej River Valley Citadel was in its heyday.

 Next month: More ancient art and monuments from the UTRAE II!                 

A major center of civilization in Upper Tibet, circa the 3^rd century CE

On the UTRAE II, I visited Gurgyam (Gur-gyam) again, a Bon monastery in southwestern Tibet. I have been a regular visitor since 1986. In that year, the late Tenzin Wangdrak Rinpoche led me around the site and shared his plans for rebuilding the monastery and retreat center. His efforts proved an admirable success. Gurgyam is located in the upper Sutlej River valley, at the foot of a colorful earthen formation pockmarked with caves. In the environs of this scenic religious center are a number of archaeological sites of great importance. Among these is Khardong (Mkhar-gdong), a large ruined citadel situated atop a mesa standing little more than a kilometer away from Gurgyam.

In the 1930s, Gurgyam was identified as the ancient capital of the Zhang Zhung kingdom by the famous Bon lama Khyungtrul Jikme Namkha Dorje. Known as Khyunglung Ngulkhar (Khyung-lung dngul-mkhar) in Tibetan literary sources, this capital and other Zhang Zhung sites are closely associated with early religious practitioners called bon-po. That such a large and strategically important citadel was established at Khardong seems to support its identification with Khyunglung Ngulkhar. However, there is not yet sufficient evidence to pronounce Khardong the capital of Zhang Zhung. That said, the textual and archaeological evidence is compelling, making Khardong the best candidate we have for Khyunglung Ngulkhar. As for the name ‘Zhang Zhung’, it can be traced back to 8^th to 10^th century CE texts written in Old Tibetan. From these and later sources we cannot be sure that the culture, language and polity of prehistoric western Tibet were actually called Zhang Zhung. Be that as it may, for more than a millennium, parts or most all of Upper Tibet has been assigned this toponym in Tibetan literature.

Ascertaining the political character of Zhang Zhung from Old Tibetan and Bon sources has been undertaken by various Tibetologists. These literary accounts often speak of a powerful territory ruled by various kings, a set of eighteen of which are supposed to have possessed horned headdresses. Motivated often by sectarian and ideological calculations, many of these textual sources are very difficult to assess historically. We are left with a body of dramatic legends and myths, that undoubtedly contain bits of history, but to pick and choose between them is a tall order. It is only through the archaeological record that we have any hope of accurately appraising what has been written.

For those not familiar with my work on Khardong and its possible connections to Khyunglung Ngulkhar, see:

1) Flight of the Khyung (May, 2011). http://www.tibetarchaeology.com/may-201l/

2) Antiquities of Upper Tibet (Delhi: Adroit Publishers), 2002.

3)  “gShen-rab Myi-bo” in Revue d’Etudes Tibétaines, no. 19 (http://www.himalaya.socanth.cam.ac.uk/collections/journals/ret/pdf/ret_19_03.pdf), 2010.

 4) “Territorial Characteristics of the Pre-Buddhist Zhang-zhung Paleocultural Entity” in Emerging Bon (ed. H. Blezer), pp. 51–113. (Halle: International Institute for Tibetan and Buddhist Studies), forthcoming.

Also see the following articles by two other archaeologists who have surveyed the site:

5) Li Yongxian’s “Archaeological Survey of ‘Khyung Lung Silver Castle’ in Western Tibet” in Emerging Bon (ed. H. Blezer), pp. 35–52. (Halle), forthcoming.

6) Mark Aldenderfer and Holly Moyes’ “In the Valley of the Eagle: Zhangzhung, Kyunglung and the Pre-Buddhist sites of Far Western Tibet” (http://www.penn.museum/documents/publications/expedition/PDFs/47-2/In%20the%20Valley.pdf).

In 2006, in the plain below the Gurgyam monastery, an opulent burial was unearthed by resident monks. These good friars have gone through extraordinary measures to recover and conserve the human and material remains from this burial. I first reviewed this exceptional tomb find in the October 2010 issue of Flight of the Khyung. There is much research that needs to be conducted if we are to better understand the physical and cultural components of the burial. A battery of archaeometric tests and analyses is required, ranging from the forensic to the radiological and dendrochronological. This current newsletter is merely another introductory report on the Gurgyam tomb, which is written to give some direction and context to future studies.

As noted in the October 2010 newsletter, the AMS dating of a piece of a femur recovered from the Gurgyam inhumation has yielded a calibrated date of 220–350 CE. Analyzing the conventional and calibrated dates along with the intercept data indicates that this burial was most likely made in the second half of the 3^rd century CE. Many of the grave goods from the Gurgyam burial must be from this same general period. Others may be somewhat earlier if they were in the possession of the deceased long term as special possessions or heirlooms.

Fig. 1. The discovery of this patterned silk in the Gurgyam burial created quite a sensation in the international academic community. The learned comments of experts pertaining to it are found in the October 2010 newsletter.

In 2011, I learned that the Gurgyam silk has been placed between two plates of glass and sealed with masking tape. Earlier I thought that the silk rested directly against the wood backing of a picture frame, providing some ventilation. I recommended to the monk conservators at Gurgyam that they remove the silk from its current receptacle and store it in a roomy plain brown cardboard or unpainted/untreated wooden box between pieces of handmade Tibetan paper, and placed in the same secure location. This would protect the extremely delicate textile from moisture, static charges, chemical contamination, and frictional wear. The monks were receptive to what I had to say, and said that they will seek approval from local government officials to store the artifact as specified.

Fig. 2. A close-up view of confronted waterfowl woven in the Gurgyam silk. What appears to be a pair of ducks or geese stand within wave and floral-like purfle. These motifs are beige in color while the ground is a rich indigo blue.

Fig. 3. Center: a pair of peacocks and a pair of what appear to be carnivores. Flanking these animals are other zoomorphic pairs. Small linear designs in pairs can also be seen in the image. Some experts believe that these are Chinese characters, but they observe that the ideograms appear to be non-standard or distorted in form.

In an online article by Tang Tao, he holds that the patterned Gur-gyam silk is of typical Han manufacture.* This position is also taken by certain foreign experts quoted in the October 2010 “Flight of the Khyung”. Nonetheless, there are dissenting voices in that newsletter, who view the cultural and historical background of the silk as being potentially a good deal more complicated than merely a Han dynasty import. In his article, Tong Tao thinks that silks with the same ‘inscription’ and patterns have been found in the Yingpan and Astana cemeteries of the Taklamakan basin. These sites date to the 3rd to 5^th centuries CE. Tong Tao then concludes that the silk of Gurgyam dates to the 4^th or 5^th century CE. However, as the Gurgyam silk must per force predate the time of the burial, a date in the second half of the 4^th century or 5^th century CE cannot be entertained ( as discussed, a second half of the 3^rd century CE attribution is most likely).

* “Silks from Han to Jin Period Found near Kyung-lung dngul-mkhar, the Capital of Ancient Xiang Xiong Kingdom in Ngari, Tibet” in Chinese Archaeology,  Institute of Chinese Archaeology Chinese Academy of Social Sciences, posted on October 17, 2011. http://www.kaogu.cn/en/detail.asp?ProductID=3120)

I will offer a few observations concerning the Gurgyam silk, but hasten to add that I am no expert in ancient textiles. This is a highly specialized field of study in which I have little experience. I simply tender the following comments to stimulate further discussion and inquiry. I have examined images of the Yingpan, Astana and Niya silks, and while seeing general esthetic similarities, question how close their cultural affiliations with the Gurgyam silk actually were. Many of the individual decorative motifs of the Gurgyam piece are quite distinct in form, and perhaps more importantly they are assembled into a different overall scheme. This led Victor Mair (an eminent scholar specializing in the archaeology of Xinjiang) and I independently to consider the possibility that this precious textile was woven locally from imported silk thread (on environmental grounds it does not appear that sericulture was ever practiced in western Tibet).

We are left with the possibility that the silk textile itself or the thread from which it was produced came from Han China and entered Tibet as a trade good or diplomatic exchange (directly from the Chinese or through intermediaries). We know from experts who contributed to my 2010 newsletter on the subject, that sericulture and silk weaving reached Khotan in the 2^nd century CE and Mongolia probably around the same time. From the 3^rd century CE, Sassanian Iran was also weaving silks of exquisite quality. Therefore, it is also possible that the Gurgyam silk or the yarn from which it was woven was an import from a Central Asian source and not China. In any case, the Gurgyam silk exhibits less ‘Silk Road’ influences than silks that postdate it from the Taklamakan with their Byzantine and Sassanian overtones.

Fig. 4. The inner border of the Gurgyam silk reveals a very finely woven silk batten. This is a feature of the textile not reported on earlier. Perhaps this will prove an important clue for specialists in Central Asian textiles and archaeology.

We will now take a look at other Gurgyam grave goods collected by the monks, which are proudly displayed in the little museum they have built. Gurgyam must boast one of the only archaeological museums opened in a Tibetan monastery. Other artifacts from the burial are depicted in the October 2010 newsletter.

Fig. 5. Thick-walled, roughly modeled beaker and goblets. Note that the beaker has a pouring lip while the other vessels are stemmed. These vessels must have played a role in the burial rite. The Tibetan label behind the vessels says, ‘ceramics’ (rdza).

Fig. 6. A lathe-turned wooden object. The strap lathe and bow lathe were used widely in Eurasia in antiquity. We now know that by the 3rd or 4th century CE, Tibetans also knew the woodworking lathe, a significant discovery. The notch in the rim of the lid-like object and the circular disc and other fragment contained inside suggest that this was originally a relatively intricate piece of (ritual?) equipment.

Fig. 7. A copper-alloy vessel labeled by the monks as ‘bronze cup’ (li-skyogs). Yes, almost certainly, this object with its handle was cast as a drinking cup. The ring handle appears to have been designed with a finger rest.

Fig. 8. Thin pieces of silver (?) embossed with diagonal lines. Some of these fragments appear to have been gilt. These fragments probably formed ornamental plates or sheathing. As with the copper, iron and copper-alloy items found in the same burial, these snippets are the handiwork of a people well versed in metallurgy and metalworking.

Fig. 9. This artifact from the Gurgyam interment is labeled ‘bellows tube of copper’ (zangs kyi sbud-pa). The function of this grave good is unknown, but it is worth mentioning that the archaic funerary tradition, as recorded in Old Tibetan literature, describes the use of tubes or conduits made of various metals (including copper) in a ritual to free the dead from demonic hindrances. For more information on this funerary ritual, see my forthcoming book, Death and Beyond in Ancient Tibet (Austrian Academy of Sciences, 2012).

Fig. 10. A fragment of a human cranium. The monks assiduously collected the bones from the Gurgyam burial and have stored them well. It would be extremely valuable if these remains were to undergo osteological analyses. This is but one kind of scientific study required if we are to maximize our knowledge about the burial. Thanks to the care taken by the Gurgyam monks, further research is now feasible. Other tombs in the region have been opened without proper oversight and the contents discarded save for what may have market or esthetic value.

We now move a mile east to the citadel of Khardong. In 2010 and 2011, the monks made a series of discoveries there, all of which are housed in their museum. The keen eyesight and intimate acquaintance with the site permitted them to find things on the surface missed by other research teams.

Fig. 11. Among the finds at Khardong was this piece of timber (28 cm long by 17 cm in diameter). It was recovered from inside a masonry wall in the upper sector of the site.

As Mark Aldenderfer notes in his article (see bibliographic details above), with it’s larger and better constructed structures, the upper sector of Khardong appears to have been reserved for elite activity, such as that which revolved around the local ruling authority. Regional personnel requested that I date the piece of wood collected by the monks. A 6 cm length was removed from the raw timber. I had this sample AMS assayed by Beta Analytic, a well known radiocarbon lab in Miami, Florida. This piece of wood (poplar or willow?) provided sufficient final carbon for testing. It yielded a calibrated date of 130 CE to 260 CE. Its intercept date is 240 CE, just ten years earlier than the one for the Gurgyam burial. Looking at the chronometric data from these two samples in toto, we can be quite confident that the piece of wood (at the time of the tree’s death) is 50 to 150 years older than the buried occupant of Gurgyam. According to Li Yongxian’s lecture delivered at the International Association of Tibetan Studies conference in Bonn (2006), there were two major periods of occupation at the site: 1500–500 BCE and 100 BCE to 500 CE. It would appear, then, that the wood timber, which is almost certainly a constructional element, belongs to the middle of the latter phase of occupation at Khardong.

Before proceeding to possible implications of the chronometric findings reviewed above, let us view a few more artifacts recently discovered at Khardong. These will give us a better idea of the purview of material goods known in southwest Tibet in the 2^nd to 4^th century CE timeframe.

Fig. 12. A carved bi-hemispherical white igneous stone. The Gurgyam monks and I concur that this is a weight used on the end of a Tibetan beam scale. Identical stones (of various sizes) were used as weights right up to the modern period. The discovery of this Khardong example suggests that at least part of the traditional system of weights and measures in pre-modern Tibet was of pre-Buddhist antiquity. This stone, provided it dates to the time of the citadel, indicates that uniform standards had been adopted in parts of the Plateau very early on. Any such standardization of weights and measures would have facilitated trade and economic development. Wide, even interregional, trading networks may be implicated in this discovery. This scenario is supported by the discovery of cane and silk in the Gurgyam burial, commodities that in their raw forms came from outside the borders of Upper Tibet. To better understand the significance of the Khardong weight will require further research and exploration.

Fig. 13. Foliar iron arrowhead with long tapering tang. This implement is probably the product of a fully developed iron smelting culture.

Fig. 14. A selection of semiprecious stone and glass beads recovered from Khardong by the sharp-eyed monks. This array of ornaments is remarkable for its sheer variety. The beads shown here represent diverse techniques of manufacture applied to a broad group of materials. These beads may date to different time periods. This variety in stones and glass is yet another potent sign that ancient southwestern Tibet was part of a far-ranging web of trade and exchange, one that encompassed sundry regions. I very much welcome the comments of readers, some of whom are liable to know more about ancient beads than I do. The function of the pieces of clear quartz and the dark-colored cylindrical stone in the image are unknown.

This newsletter focuses on two sites separated by just a mile and less than 150 years. The Gurgyam burial and Khardong citadel could not have existed in isolation from one another, for the latter stronghold ruled over the plains spread out below it. Here, as at other archaic archaeological sites in Upper Tibet, residential occupation occurred in the heights while the plains were used for mortuary purposes. The burial and fortress represent the interrelated monumental assemblage of the living and the dead. The study of Khardong made by Li Yongxian indeed confirms that this site chronologically overlaps with the Gurgyam tomb.

The individual interred in the Gurgyam tomb was of high social status and/or rank. This is demonstrated by the fine quality and sheer diversity of grave goods. A person of this lofty stature must have had an intimate association with the Khardong citadel but in what capacity is not known. The Gurgyam burial may help to establish Khardong as Khyunglung Ngulkhar, but this amounts to more circumstantial evidence, not definitive proof.

The nature of artifacts found at Gurgyam and Khardong are indicative of a culture characterized by a relatively high level of sophistication. Make no mistake; the objects recovered are the vestiges of a well developed material cultural regime, one based upon complex manufacturing and trading capabilities. Nevertheless, to date, there is no epigraphic or archaeological evidence for a written language having existed in Upper Tibet during the early centuries of the first millennium CE. Moreover, claims made in Bon literature for a Zhang Zhung script remain unsubstantiated. The refinement of Tibetan civilization in material and cultural terms, 1600 and more years ago, belies Lamaist stereotypes of a benighted and barbarous land in the period before Buddhism came to dominate.  Since Victorian times, this stereotype of a savage pre-Buddhist Tibet has permeated Western scholarship as well. Nothing could be further from the truth. Furthermore, Tibetan Buddhist accounts that attribute the founding of civilization to the first Central Tibetan king, Nyatri Tsenpo (gNya’-khri btsan-po), or agriculture and metallurgy to Tibet’s ninth king Pude Gungyal (Pu-lde gung-rgyal), must also be called into question.

It appears that Buddhists were very sensitive about Tibet’s past, intent as they often were on seeing it through an unfavorable lens. This is not criticism of the Bodhidharma, but rather a critique of the political apparatus surrounding it. The syndrome of disparaging those who came before is reflected in cultural successors the world over. The situation in environmentally marginal Upper Tibet was particularly delicate. In the Lamaist era, the earlier extent of civilization was never reached again. A deteriorating climate worked against any such ambition. A possible precipitous fall in the native population in the region may also have contributed to a much reduced civilizational order in historic times.

The existence of extensive arable lands upstream and downstream of Gurgyam and Khardong tells us that its ancient residents belonged to an agrarian society. Agriculture in the region has every sign of originating in antiquity, as indicated by Tibetan folklore and literature, as well as by the wholesale abandonment of farmlands in the region over what appears to have been a very long period of time (retreating agricultural production in western Tibet is yet another area of study awaiting the attention of researchers).

Gurgyam and Khardong belonged to a specific type of settlement pattern, which can be characterized as ‘citadel agriculture’. This was the same form of settlement found in virtually every valley system of western Tibet before the Buddhist era. Residences and farms were aggregated around the protective embrace of fortresses strategically placed on summits for defense. In the last 15 years, I have surveyed dozens of these fortified sites in western Tibet. Like those of other centers of citadel agriculture, the makers of the Gurgyam burial and Khardong castle were a sedentary people. The climate and environment in western Tibet could only accommodate nucleated settlements, for water and arable land were restricted resources. In contrast, in the plains of India or China, settlement tended to be more diffuse and prolific. Thus, the population densities attained in western Tibet may have been considerably less than in many low elevation regions.

The acquisition of temporal power is not simply a matter of numbers. It extends to the manner in which societies are organized. The existence of a network of aggregated settlements and the broad range of material good produced combined with the rigors of the climate suggest that western Tibet excelled in the utilization of its human resources. Tibetan texts complement this view with their picture of a martial people. Further political and economic strength must have come from the pastoralists, who were interspersed between the citadel communities. The herders of yaks, goats, sheep, and horses added demographic bulk and economic wealth to the chain of citadels and agricultural enclaves.

According to Tong Tao (see bibliographic information above), the wooden coffin of the Gurgyam burial is identical to wooden coffins from Niya, Yingpan and Khotan from the first half of the first millennium CE. He observes that the Gurgyam coffin must result from influences derived from these Taklamakan sites. In my opinion, it far too early in the investigation to pronounce which people was in the culturally or politically dominant position. A two-way street of trade and exchange between the Tibetan Plateau and Taklamakan is probably indicated. Western Tibet was rich in raw materials (pastoral products, wild game, gold, botanicals, and salt and other minerals) as well as high quality finished products from which much power and influence may have been leveraged.

Tong Tao also notes that the U-shaped wooden comb, wooden cup and woven basketry bear strong similarities to those of Loulan and Khotan. Similarities in material goods, especially when the inventory we have to work with is so small, do not in themselves necessarily divulge the extent of cultural affinities between disparate regions. That admonition aside, there were indeed cultural links between Xinjiang and western Tibet in antiquity, as I show in various writings. The challenge now before us is to collect the data that will permit a better understanding of the nature of that interrelationship.

Let us place the Gurgyam burial and wooden timber from Khardong in a wider cultural perspective. In 220 CE, the Han dynasty collapsed ushering in a long and unsettled period in Chinese history. Even at the height of Han expansion, direct contacts with Western Tibet were limited at best, because Han armies did not penetrate that far. It is more plausible that these two powers knew of each other through cultural intermediaries and trading partners. In the 3^rd century CE, the Parthian empire extended its maritime trade routes as far as Southeast Asia, and Manichaeism spread throughout much of Asia. What contacts, if any, western Tibetans had with Parthia and the religion of Mani is unclear. My extensive survey work in western Tibet has not turned up a single inscription written in a foreign language (unlike Ladakh and Indus Kohistan with their multilingual epigraphy). This lack of epigraphic evidence suggests that external cultural influences were minimal in scope or heavily modulated through indigenous structures. By the same line of reasoning, it is hard to see how the Gupta, Sassanian or Kushan empires could have had any more than tangential influence in western Tibet, in the 2^nd to 4^th centuries CE. Moreover, the artifacts, art and architecture of these peoples have not been documented in Upper Tibet. While trade links in particular are indicated (perhaps an odd coin or two from adjoining states will show up in western Tibet, if they have not already), massive demographic or cultural intrusions are not. All relevant evidence shows that Upper Tibet was most receptive to vectors of influence originating in north Inner Asia.

The archaeological evidence taken as a whole bespeaks an ancient Upper Tibet very much in control of its own destiny, with its own unique culture and way of life centuries before the advent of Buddhism.

The western highlands were a great hub of the distinctive Tibetan civilization with its many linguistic and geographic branches. The ethnical and cultural makeup of ancient Upper Tibet, therefore, must be understood on its own terms and not simply through the looking glass of other peoples. It is only in the last few years that the archaeological discoveries needed to appreciate the level of advancement reached in western Tibetan by the early first millennium CE have appeared. The same can be said for other quarters of the Tibetan Plateau as well: they had achieved a great deal of cultural and technological advancement in the pre-Buddhist epoch.

A final word in this newsletter on Zhang Zhung. Can what has been discovered on the ground be equated with the Zhang Zhung of Tibetan and Chinese historical texts? The answer is yes, but with some qualification. Inasmuch as Zhang Zhung is the traditional appellation for the land, cultural and people of western Tibet, it can with good reason be used as an archaeological term to describe the general character of pre-Buddhist civilization in that region. It is important to point out, however, that Zhang Zhung is not tantamount to a specific period of time or phase in Upper Tibetan Civilization. Perhaps when enough archaeological information is acquired we might begin to refer to earlier and later Zhang Zhungs, but that remains to be seen. In the same overarching way, the traditional word bon / bon-po (not to be equated with the Lamaist Bon religion) can be applied to the cultural and religious make up of pre-Buddhist Upper Tibet. However, when used in an archaeological context this term needs to be qualified chronologically, geographically and functionally. Upon saying that, welcome to the amazing world of Zhang Zhung and bon!

More on ancient western Tibet next month!

Bactrian camels up on high

The Bactrian or double-humped camel (Camelus bactrianus) is native to the steppes and deserts of Central Asia. As I understand it, the critically endangered wild Bactrian camel is also found in the Nubra valley of Ladakh, on the northwestern edge of the Tibetan plateau. According to Amy Heller (“The Silver Jug of the Lhasa Jokhang”, www.asianart.com/articles/heller/index.html), wild Bactrian camels also live in the Tsho-ngoen (Mtsho-sngon) region of Amdo. The Bactrian camel is specially adapted to eating snow and ice, an essential capability in the frigid winter conditions of its range. Domesticated Bactrian camels are still widely used as pack animals in the heart of Asia.

Known as ngamong (rnga-mong) in Tibetan, the Bactrian camel has intimate associations with archaic and folk religious traditions. The late great spirit-medium Phowo Lhawang (Pho-bo lha-dbang), who traced his lineage to the 8^th century CE, reported that camel hair was braided into protection cords and empowered by the deities of the trance. These cords were supposed to be effective against the predations of all classes of demons. According to the famous circa 11^th century CE Bon historical text Drakpa Lingdrak (bsGrags pa gling grags), during the prosecution of [an early form] of the Bon religion in the reign of Tibet’s eighth king, Drigum Tsenpo (Dri-gum btsan-po), Bactrian camels among other animals were to be used to transport sacred texts to safety. The rare Bon ritual text entitled Offerings to the Lha and Purification of the Lha of the Four Types of Little People (Mi’u rigs bzhi lha sel lha mchod) on grammatical grounds can probably be dated to the 11^th–13^th century. It contains archaic lore and practices that, according to Bon tradition, originated in the mists of prehistory. The origins myth found in the text holds that a ritual to reestablish the balance between humans and the ancestral deities (pho-lha and mo-lha) was first practiced by prehistoric priests known as bon-gshen. These priests are recorded as wearing turbans and capes, and propitiating the ancestral spirits using various offerings including zoomorphic thrones such as that of the Bactrian camel. The Bactrian camel is also associated with Me-ri, a Bon tutelary deity connected to antiquated lore and ritual practices.

Fig. 1. A bowman taking aim at a Bactrian camel and a wild ungulate.

The Bactrian camel can be identified by its long neck and two humps. This deeply carved petroglyph is found in northwestern Tibet, and can be dated to the prehistoric era and perhaps more precisely to the Iron Age (700–100 BCE). This hunting composition suggests that wild Bactrian camels once roamed over the Tibetan plateau south and east of the Nubra valley. If so, this region (around 4500 m elevation) would have constituted the highest altitude habitat of the Bactrian camel in all of its native range. However, the relative rarity of Bactrian camel rock art in northwestern Tibetan suggests either that this animal was never especially common here and/or that it was not of great economic importance.

Fig. 2. Although it exhibits very different stylistic and fabrication traits, this Bactrian camel is also located in northwestern Tibet.

The two humps, long neck and head shape are unmistakable physical traits of the species. This Bactrian camel is part of a group of contiguous compositions that includes a fish, stag, boar (?), and several other animals, all of which were lightly pecked (an image of this rock panel was published in Sonam Wangdu’s Art of Tibetan Rock Paintings, Chengdu, 1994). These various wild animal compositions appear to date to the protohistoric period (100 BCE–650 CE). For some dating guidelines see earlier issues of this newsletter or my book Zhang Zhung.

Fig. 3. A large carved chorten (60 cm in height) superimposed on a variety of wild herbivores including five or six Bactrian camels.

This representation of a Buddhist chorten monument (identified by its conjoined sun and moon finial) appears to have been carved no later than the early second millennium CE. This is borne out by its style and the absence of later examples of rock art and inscriptions at this particular site. Like other animals on the same rock panel, the camels seem to represent the wild variety. In some proximate compositions archers on horseback are pursuing animals with bows and arrows. The hunting scenes and Bactrian camels were made by lightly abrading the rock and are now well re-patinated. They all date to before the dawn of the historic era in Tibet.

Fig. 4. A close-up of two Bactrian camels carved to the left of the chorten spire.

The head of the smaller Bactrian camel was obliterated by the chorten etching. The large even toes of the animal are depicted in both specimens, as are its long neck and two humps. Note the very different degrees of re-patination between the camels and chorten. These physical characteristics are liable to reflect many centuries separating the creation of the respective subjects.

Fig. 5. A Bactrian camel on the right side of the graduated base of the chorten.

Part of the chorten carving was superimposed on the rear half of this camel. Palimpsests are very common in Upper Tibet (as they are at many other rock art sites the world over). As I have explained in other publications, the superimposition of Buddhists motifs upon earlier rock art appears to have served several interrelated functions for their makers. These include: 1) the symbolic purification or subjugation of earlier cultural practices encapsulated in rock art such as hunting, 2) the ritual sealing of locales in order to bring them within the territorial fold of Buddhism, 3) recognition of the earlier or ancestral cultural significance of certain rock formations and panels.

Fig. 6. A human figure leading two Bactrian camels.

This highly eroded red ochre pictograph is found on the opposite side of Upper Tibet in the eastern Changthang. This composition by virtue of its camel driver depicts the domesticated variety of the animal. No wild Bactrian camel rock art has been documented in the eastern or central Changthang. This rock art is found along a corridor that saw much Mongol penetration from the 13^th century CE onward. Our pictograph however dates to an earlier time. It is probably best placed in the protohistoric period but the scientific means to confirm this attribution are still lacking. The pictograph seems to chronicle a trade route coming from the north, connecting Upper Tibet with steppe regions. It was in the steppes that Bactrian camel domestication reached its highest level of development. If the periodization I have assigned the composition is correct, it seems to signal that communications between the eastern edge of Upper Tibet and the steppic north began long before the 13^th century CE. This fits well with other archaeological evidence evincing cultural links between north Inner Asia and Upper Tibet. From our pictograph alone it cannot be determined whether there was widespread usage of Bactrian camels in the Changthang or if this animal was more of a novelty. Of course, it is also possible that the artist was documenting something he or she saw in lower elevation regions of Tibet. Bactrian camels did indeed travel to and live in the Lhasa environs in premodern times, as old black & white photographs portray.

Fig. 7. A close-up of the camel driver.

This figure dons a knee-length robe or caftan. The wide flat shape of the head is suggestive of the wearing of a turban.  The vertical line below and just above the waist may possibly depict a style of dress that closed along the center of the body. This kind of closure was known among ancient Tibetans and Central Asians such as the Sogdians. It is also possible however that the vertical line portrays some kind of implement tucked into a sash.

Fig. 8. A red ochre line drawing of a Bactrian camel.

Above this camel are the human figures we concentrated on in last month’s newsletter. What appears to be a yak with a rectangular body was painted over the humps of the camel. The feet of the front legs of the camel were covered up by the painting of another yak. Red ochre running off the anthropomorphic figures has partially obscured the camel as well. I am inclined to see this more realistically rendered example of the animal as dating from the early historic period (650–1000) CE. This is potentially the only Bactrian camel in the rock art of Upper Tibet datable to the historic era.

Inner Asian rock art: more interconnected than I realized earlier

In my book Antiquities of Northern Tibet (2001: 199) I wrote, “…Byang thang rock art forms a separate branch of Eurasian animal art, with its own specific modes of expression, subject matter (sic) and cultural context. The uniqueness of Byang thang rock art is illustrated by the fact that five distinguishing features of steppic art – mascoids, animals in combat, heraldic pairs of carnivores, camels and chariots – are little represented or absent. Perhaps the most defining feature of this regional contrast is the chariot, which had a profound cultural impact on the steppes in the second and first millennium BC, while the Byang thang seems to have been little affected.”

Discoveries made since writing the above words demonstrate that the criteria I used to discern major differences between the rock art traditions of Upper Tibet and north Inner Asia require considerable amendment. As regular readers of this newsletter and my other works will know, in the last decade, I documented mascoids (see December 2011 newsletter), camels (see current) and chariots (see August 2010 and November 2011). As for animals in combat and ‘heraldic’ pairs of carnivores, other distinguishing criteria offered in Antiquities of Northern Tibet, these too must be revised.

Fig. 9. A pair of carnivores attacking what appears to be a wild ungulate. The carnivores (wolves?) are depicted with large upright ears (?) gaping jaws and long tails. Probably Iron Age.

Fig. 10. Here we see three carnivores taking down a large wild ungulate (wild sheep?). The hostile animals are deployed in standard positions for the disposal of prey. One carnivore is shown pulling at the snout, another one attacks from the rear, while the third partner goes for a flank of the unfortunate herbivore. Probably Iron Age.

The two attack scenes depicted above (and a third example) are found on the same panel as several chariots and appear to be thematically and chronologically related. Rather than merely recording the way in which wolves hunt, the carnivore-prey motif may well have had sociocultural value for its makers and intended audience. Qualities of the warrior could be embodied in it; demonstrations of fierceness and fearlessness for instance. These compositions and their ostensible association with chariots seem to have other important implications as well. It appears that trans-regional acculturation (possibly political and economic influences as well) involving Eastern Turkestan to the north or via Ladakh to the west were at play. The chariot and perhaps the strident aggression of animals as well is almost certainly the bequest of steppe-desert peoples who had contact (direct or indirect) with Upper Tibetans. The obvious lines of communications lie in that direction and not through the Himalayan barrier to India. Further comment on the nature of cultural intercourse between the steppes-deserts and plateau will be made in next month’s newsletter.

Although I was wrong about what differentiated Upper Tibetan rock art from that of north Inner Asia, my basic premise remains true: Byang-thang rock art forms a separate branch of Eurasian animal art, with its own specific modes of expression, subject matter and cultural context. The Upper Tibetan examples of even cognate motifs are unique esthetically. While its inhabitants from, say, the late Bronze Age were part of the larger world whirling around the mountains ringing their elevated homeland, theirs was a unique way of life with peculiar cultural, economic and linguistic characteristics.

Another key revision concerning the age of rock art

In my book Antiquities of Upper Tibet (2002: 140), I wrote that the word yak (g.yag) and a yak depiction below it were executed in the same fashion and display the same wear characteristic, thus they the date to the same timeframe (early historic period). I even went so far as to compare this yak with historic era animal petroglyphs and inscriptions from Ladakh studied by Philip Denwood, commenting that they were all stiffly executed and lack the gracefulness and vigor of prehistoric representational art. While this characterization may hold true for the Ladakh examples, it is not true of the Upper Tibetan example. In fact, further scrutiny of the inscription and petroglyph on the UTRAE II shows that they were produced in disparate periods.

We are focusing on this matter because it is an important one. My former interpretation colored an understanding of Upper Tibetan rock art chronology, making me believe in a longstanding anachronistic rock art style for which there is little basis (motifs did indeed often remain the same but the manner in which they were executed changed over time). I still maintain that the word ‘yak’ was written before 1000 or 1100 CE, as the few other inscriptions at the site are of a similar paleography and belong to the Old Tibetan language.

Fig. 11. The inscription and yak under question.

It can be clearly seen in the image that the inscription is less patinated than the depiction of the yak below it. This difference is indicative of some centuries of separation between these respective creations. Moreover, the techniques and probably also the tools used to produce the carvings vary greatly. The letters of the inscription were made using a tool / technique that removed much finer particles of stone with each hit or stroke. The etched lines of the yak are much rougher and deeper, the result of employing a different tool / technique. Perhaps the yak was made using stone tools. In any case, a great cache of microliths was discovered at the site on the UTRAE II. The style of the yak is another important indication of greater antiquity. It was rendered according to an archaic artistic tradition, which appears to have been discontinued before the dawn of the historic era. The animals in the petroglyphs studied by Philip Denwood referred to above do indeed possess the rigidity and perfuntoriness often associated with early historic rock art on the Tibetan Plateau (if I remember correctly: I do not have Denwood’s paper at hand). To compare the yak under inspection with this Ladakhi rock art was my error. However, there is no better time to come clean than the present! In my defense, as weak as it may be, I will say that digital photography has significantly aided the study of rock art. It allows one to take highly detailed images and as many of them as are needed for detailed analyses.

Fig. 12. A close-up of the inscription and the adjoining part of the yak. Variability in the modes of manufacture and aging requires no further comment. Note that part of the final g of the inscription was carved over the tail of the yak.

Next month: Crucial information on the chronology of ancient civilization in Upper Tibet!

On January 8, I delivered a lecture to a full house at the Explorers Club headquarters in New York City. I am pleased to report that the talk appears to have been very well received. Being held in the Explorers Club, the lecture focused on the themes of exploration and adventure, which were woven into an overview of my research work.

Figures from foreign lands?

In the rock art record of Upper Tibet there are a number of compositions that stand out from the rest. This art is strange in form and execution – nothing like what the ancient Tibetans were usually painting and carving. These images contrast with the typical figurative and iconic representations, and with the religious, economic, social and political themes usually presented in Tibetan highland rock art. Exotic influences appear to be at play here. These atypical subjects may possibly be the handiwork of visitors to the uplands or they may have been created by indigenous artists documenting foreign peoples and customs. In this newsletter we’ll look at a few examples of pictographs that seem to intrude upon the artistic landscape.

Fig. 1. A trio of human figures attired in ankle length robes or caftans gathered at the waist and with relatively short sleeves. These figures and two nearby ones are unlike the depiction of any other anthropomorphic rock art in Upper Tibet. The red ochre figures have undergone considerable wear and ablation of the pigment (each figure is in the vicinity of 10 cm in height). Moreover, the composition is partially obscured by subsequent pigment applications and the running of pigment from adjacent pictographs. As for the age, I shall tentatively attribute it to the imperial period (circa 630–850 CE). Note the line drawing of a yak (horns visible on bottom left corner) superimposed on the composition at a later date.

The three figures are located in an eastern Changthang cave with other eccentric images that appear to have been inspired from afar. In one scene an individual leads two Bactrian camels, clearly documenting a Central Asian form of transportation (more on camels next month). Non-Tibetan ciphers or pictograms cover another rock panel in the same cave. Although it is only a hunch, I am persuaded to see our trio as of foreign origin as well. My two main reasons for this hypothesis are as follows:

1)    The shorter sleeves of the garments and that they appear to have been made from a textile (note the stripes on the robe on the right). Tibetans certainly have cloth garments in this general style but their depiction in the Changthang seems idiosyncratic.

2)    The manner in which the middle figure appears to sport either hair coiffed in one high bunch or a tall narrow headdress positioned on the rear of the head (yes, I think these are probably representations of male figures).

To initiate a debate, I shall put forward that this composition may depict Sogdian traders, who visited the locale (an important pilgrimage site) en route to or from Lhasa. In any case, they belong to a privileged social class or so I would think. From what is visible in the pictograph, I know this attribution is a big stretch but one must begin somewhere. If you the readers have any ideas as to the identity of these figures or comments on any other rock art featured in the newsletters, please do not hesitate to let me know. I shall highly value any reasoned input.

Fig. 2. A close-up view of the figure on the right. He wears a striped robe, perhaps depicting a silk textile, and what appears to be a big turban or hat on the head (which may be depicted in profile). Although now highly obscured, it appears that this figure was painted with relatively detailed facial features.

Fig. 3. The middle figure with what appears to be a coiffure possibly of Central Asian persuasion. Sogdian and Manichaean art immediately comes to mind here, but there is nothing I can directly point to that says, ‘eureka’! This figure may be depicted with its head in profile.

Fig. 4. One of two atypical figures located near the trio of figures discussed above. This individual dons what appears to be a tall turban. His facial features are still visible but they are not sufficiently detailed to make any pronouncement about their ethnic or racial nature. Next to this figure is a more ambiguously painted one holding a sword upright. Beside it is another sword.

Pillars marking the ages

In 1999, I documented a row of eight pillars in northwestern Tibet. Six of these standing stones are integrated into a corral (still used on a seasonal basis). These pillars have proven convenient structural supports for the west wall of this corral. During the first visit, I could only shoot a few pictures, as film in the field was at a real premium. In 2011, however, I could take digital photos to my satisfaction.

Fig. 5. Like the other four specimens at the site, these four pillars or stelae were hewn from igneous rocks. The two pillars on the right side of the photo are made from white granite and are 1.4 m and 1.6 m in height (not including the portions firmly anchored in the ground). I am not certain how far away the quarry for these pillars was located – that’s something for further research. The third pillar from the right was engraved with several mani mantras and traces of other short inscriptions and designs that are now almost effaced.

Fig. 6. What I did not appreciate in 1999 is that inside the corral there are slabs of stone embedded in the ground, which run parallel to the line of pillars. These stones may have formed the west wall of an enclosure in which the pillars were erected. If this assessment is correct, this site is one of the most common types of funerary ritual monuments in Upper Tibet: walled-in pillars. The wide spacing of the pillars may suggest that originally there was more than one enclosure. In any event, it is not unusual to see stones from ancient monuments recycled for use in pastoral structures.

Fig. 7. On the top of the east face of this pillar (1.5 m in height) are the first three letters of the mani mantra below which a primitive or folk-style swastika (arms are much shorter than the central cross) was carved. In a more inferior position are two engraved chortens. The incomplete mani inscription was chiseled using an entirely different technique and exhibits much less wear and re-patination than the other carvings on the pillar. This physical evidence clearly indicates that the inscription was made more recently. Lone chortens and swastikas are found on walled-in pillars from other sites in the region as well. Nevertheless, the carving of such stelae was not common (for other examples, see Antiquities of Zhang Zhung: www.thlib.org/bellezza).

Fig. 8. A close-up of the upper chorten on the pillar reveals more complexity. It is now composed of five sharply incised graduated tiers, which sit on a tall plinth and are topped by a small semi-circular bumpa. The bumpa appears to be surmounted by a segmented spire, which is more heavily patinated and carved in a different manner (using a pecking technique). In fact, this spire, and the bumpa and two of the tiers below it appear to constitute an older and cruder petroglyph. The remainder of the current one was almost certainly added on later using more sophisticated cutting tools. The relative degree of physical wear indicates that possibly centuries separate the creation and recreation of this petroglyph. On the basis of the style and carving technique, the earlier part of the upper chorten, lower chorten (with its three crude tiers and bumpa) and swastika can probably be attributed to the early historic period (650–1000 CE). The more recent portion of the upper chorten dates to the vestigial period (1000–1250 CE) or perhaps even later. The clockwise orientation of the swastika may possibly indicate a Buddhist identity for it and the other carvings as well.

Fig. 9. This pillar is situated south of the corral and is 1.5 meters in height. It was engraved with two chortens and a much more recent mani mantra inscription sandwiched between them. The difference in the wear and patination between the inscription and chortens is dramatic. The upper chorten lacks a clearly defined spire. The two chortens (the lower specimen is barely discernable) date either to the early historic period or vestigial period.

Fig. 10. The top of this pillar was broken off and it now stands only 60 cm in height. An archaic style chorten (25 cm high) was deeply cut into its surface using an old engraving technique. This style of chorten with its vertically segmented base, small round bumpa, very prominent harmika (T-shaped structure at top), and absence of a spire can almost certainly be attributed to the early historic period.

Fig. 11. This chorten carving with its long and narrow form, small round bumpa and horn-like finial can also be ascribed to the early historic period. This periodization is supported by the carving technique used as well. A small archaic chorten of three tiers with a rounded upper section was also carved near the top of the pillar. I failed to document these two rock art chortens during my 1999 survey of the site. Unlike other petroglyphs at this location, these examples were placed on the west side of a pillar.

My survey of many dozens of locations with pillars standing inside quadrate stone fences shows that they were erected unadorned. That the petroglyphs made on the funerary pillars we have examined are not original features, but rather later modifications, seems to furnish us with valuable clues as to when the original functions of the standing stones began to change. The same basic observation can be made for the few stelae at other walled-in pillar sites adventitiously carved with chortens and swastikas. From the stylistic indications we have examined above, this only began to occur in the early historic period.

That the pillars had a preexisting sacral or ritual status is strongly suggested by the motifs selected for carving: chortens and swastikas. This might be expected of monuments raised for the dead. The addition of this rock art seems to tell us that religious traditions were undergoing change in the early historic period, and that the funerary pillars needed to be brought into the new religious order. Buddhism began making a large impact in Tibet in the imperial period, the upper regions of the Plateau being no exception. Of course it was in that period that the Upper Tibetan kingdoms of Sumpa and Zhang Zhung were absorbed into the expanding Tibetan empire. The chortens carved on pillars appear to be emblematic of this changed political and religious landscape. Unadorned pillars of an earlier age being altered in such a way signal that a certain cultural obsolescence regarding them had set in as early as the 7^th century CE. This seems to imply that the walled-in pillar monuments were no longer being built by that time.

In earlier publications, in the absence of any direct dating, I hold out the prospect that wall-in pillars may have been constructed as late as the 10^th century CE, as an anachronistic funerary tradition. I now think that such a late date is unlikely. Given the rock art evidence, my current position is that the walled-in pillars were probably not raised after the close of the protohistoric period (100 BCE–650 CE). The same line of thinking can be extended to the concourses of pillars appended to temple-tombs: we can be fairly confident that they were not being built after the protohistoric period.

A new online archaeological inventory

It has only recently come to my attention that a broad inventory of archaeological monuments in the Mongolian Altai has been published online by the University of Oregon. This project to document archaeological sites on the surface was carried out by Esther Jacobson-Tepfer and her team. Those interested in Tibetan archaeology will find it rewarding to compare the ancient pillar monuments and other funerary structures of Upper Tibet with those of the Mongolian Altai. There are a number of general morphological correspondences that are worth further consideration. Professor Jacobson-Tepfer’s excellent work can be found at: http://oregondigital.org/digcol/maic/

Flying high: Horse racing in Upper Tibet

Just for fun let’s finish this issue with a few pictures of an autumn horse racing festival that took place in Ruthok, in 2011. I snapped these shots quickly between other assignments.

Fig. 12

Fig. 13

Fig. 14

The horned eagle: Tibet’s greatest ancestral and religious symbol across the ages

All those familiar with Tibetan culture will know the khyung, the mythical horned eagle of Tibet. These fabulous birds come in many forms, painted and sculptural. Horned raptors are also found in the rock art of Upper Tibet, forming a subset of birds of prey with outstretched wings (depicted flying). Carnivorous birds (khyung, eagles, hawks, vultures, falcons, and owls) are important elements in many Tibetan religious traditions, myths and customs. The khyung has pride of place in Tibetan religious art soaring above the thrones of deities. According to certain ritual texts, its horns possess demon destroying properties. There are also textual indications that these so-called horns may actually be feathers such as those that form the crests of some avian species.

As with many other ancient motifs in Tibet, the khyung has a dual historical lineage: indigenous and Indian. Its Indian ancestry is the garuda line, flying creatures with the wings and tail of a raptor combined with anthropomorphic qualities.  Native to India and Nepal, the garuda spread to Southeast Asia with the maritime expansion of peninsular kingdoms more than a millennium ago. It is now of course the national symbol of Thailand and Indonesia. With the spread of Buddhism northwards, the garuda was also introduced to Tibet (and from there to greater Mongolia at a later date). Reaching Tibet in the early historic period (650–1000 CE), the garuda became assimilated to the khyung, as Buddhism displaced earlier religious traditions of the Plateau.

So thorough was the iconographic and ideological merging of the garuda and khyung, the former became known by the latter name. The only major iconographic distinction remaining is that the khyung is depicted with horns while the garuda is not, but this rule is not hard and fast. While the Hindu garuda is the mount of the god Vishnu, the khyung is a vehicle for a good number of Buddhist and Bon protective deities. No mere workhorse, the khyung has come to symbolize a broad range of Buddhist concepts and doctrines as well. It was elevated to the status of a tantric tutelary god in both Buddhism and Bon. Associated with the fire element and space, the khyung is commonly propitiated to counteract diseases attributed to water spirits (klu). It is also the prime zoomorphic emblem of the profound philosophical and mystic tradition known as the Great Perfection (Rdzogs-chen).

The Bon religion has retained numerous accounts of the khyung set in the period before Buddhism swept over Tibet. Often these narratives have a Buddhist ring to them such as those describing the transformation of adepts into khyungs, a sign of their ultimate liberation. Moreover, tantric forms of the khyung in Bon (Me-ri and Ge-khod cycles) are replete with Buddhist-inspired imagery. Even the pentad of khyung that reside at Mount Tise (Kailash) in the Bon Mother Tantra (Ma-rgyud) are overlaid by a thick Buddhist philosophical mantle. However, this khyung of Buddhist persuasion is only one side of the story.

The Bon religion (and Tibetan Buddhism to a lesser degree) has also preserved a native form of the horned eagle. This khyung is a genealogical deity and uranic protective spirit. The most celebrated ancestral khyung is said to have appeared in Zhang Zhung as the divine progenitor of the Khyungpo tribe. Early human representatives of the Khyungpo are credited with founding the first temples (gsas-mkhar) of Zhang Zhung. It is generally believed by Bonpo that the Khyungpo migrated east into Kham (where its various branches are now very common), but when this might have taken place is not clear. The best known defender khyungs are in the form of divine mountains (lha-ri) and warrior spirits (dgra-lha). This type of khyung is thought to have been the ally of ancient adepts and kings. To this day, Tibetan spirit-mediums are said to have khyungs that watch over and aid them during trance ceremonies. The ubiquitous reach of the khyung as an ancestral totem and spirit comrade deeply influenced the material culture of ancient Tibet. The horns of the khyung are recorded as being the paramount symbol of sovereignty for the kings of Zhang Zhung. Ancient Bon priests are reputed to have worn robes and hats of khyung feathers and to have had magical instruments and armaments made from the body parts of these great birds. The khyung also lent its name to numerous toponyms in the Tibetan world. Perhaps the most famous of these is Khyunglung Ngulkhar, Zhang Zhung’s capital. So vital was the khyung that one Bon tradition claims it gave its old name (zhung [-zhag]) to Zhang Zhung. Finally, in this brief survey, mention must be made of the khyung’s archaic funerary function as a pyschopomp. This theme is explored in my forthcoming book, “Death and Beyond in Ancient Tibet”.

The rock art record of Upper Tibet confirms that horned and crested raptors did indeed play a cultural role in prehistory. While the specifics of individual narratives cannot be verified, this archaeological evidence independently corroborates the historicity of the Bon textual tradition. The existence of horned raptors (probably eagles) in rock art right across Upper Tibet in antiquity encourages us to take the functions and significance assigned them in Bon literature seriously. Deconstructing the indigenous and Buddhist-inspired narrative edifice of Bon is a tall order. Nevertheless, the rock art shown below furnishes us with a strong point of reference.

I have already published some of the eleven horned raptors presented below in various books and articles, but never as a group. This selection of images constitutes many of those documented in the rock art of Upper Tibet (all of which will be carefully catalogued in the large online rock art inventory I am planning). Several horned raptors have also been recorded in Ladakh by Laurianne Bruneau and Martin Vernier. Dr Bruneau and I will be exploring these regional links in a forthcoming paper. Although it cannot be said with absolute certainty that horned raptors were called khyungs or zhungs in the prehistoric period, I shall use the former term for the selection of birds found in this newsletter. It is attested in Tibetan texts going back to circa the 8^th century CE. More crucially, some early historic authors place their narratives in primal or prehistoric times.

With one possible exception, all khyungs portrayed below can be attributed to no later than the early historic period. They are provisionally dated according to style, technique of execution, wear characteristics, and the nature of other art at the same site and panel / boulder locations.

Fig. 1. Far western Tibet. This style of khyung was retained well into the historic period as part of the class of copper alloy talismans known as thokchas (thog-lcags).

Rather than in profile, the head of this khyung may face forward (the protuberances on each side of it representing ears?), just like most khyung thokchas. The horns of this particular rock art specimen have a double curve to them, as is also found in some prehistoric wild yak petroglyphs. Also, note the diamond motif on the breast and segmented wings. This khyung is part of a composition that includes anthropomorphic figures with ornithic traits. As I have speculated, it may possibly depict the celestial decent of the Khyungpo lineage (see http://asianart.com/articles/vestiges/index.html). I have also written that this rock art may date as late as the vestigial period (1000–1300 CE). However, further inquiry has shown that this is not the case. This style of rock art and its physical characteristics (wear, carving technique and repatination) can probably be attributed to the protohistoric period (100 BCE to 650 CE). Chronometric analysis is required to verify this supposition but until that is possible; this will remain our working hypothesis.

Fig. 2. Western Changthang. This lovely khyung is found at a site with much early rock art. It appears to date to Iron Age (700–100 CE). As in figure 1, the two horns of the bird are clearly represented. Of special note is the treatment of the wings, which gracefully but powerfully fold inwards.

Fig. 3. Far western Tibet. The beak of this bird is blunted but its horns are very clearly depicted. Its long pointed wings and triangular tail recall khyung thokchas. This specimen dates either to the Iron Age or protohistoric period.

Fig. 4. Central Changthang. This khyung is very similar in style to fig. 3, except that its beak is more pointed. It hovers above a wild ungulate. Perhaps these two animals are emblematic of the dichotomous universe, a key cosmological concept in Tibetan archaic traditions. This horned raptor is best dated to the protohistoric period.

Fig. 5. Far western Tibet. Here we have a khyung with prominent tail and wing feathers. This motif consists of a row of parallel lines, which is reminiscent of the depiction of the belly hair on wild yaks in Upper Tibetan rock art. Iron Age or protohistoric period.

Fig. 6. Far western Tibet. This unusually large khyung (50 cm in length) sports a rather small set of horns. It was first documented on the UTRAE II. Like many other rock art specimens, it has a long thin neck. The tail and wings are thokcha-like in form. Protohistoric period.

Fig. 7. Western Changthang. This khyung is found at the same site as the example in figure 2 and likewise appears to date to the Iron Age. It is found amid many other animals carved on a large boulder. Like the horned bird itself, most of these figures are obscured by extreme wear.

Fig. 8. Far western Tibet. This large khyung was produced employing bold but shallow carved lines. Its beak points upwards as if the bird is shown ascending. In the middle of its round body is a swastika-like design. The prominent tail and wing feathers are congruent with those of raptors. Below the raptor a long-tailed carnivore is depicted. This carving appears to date to the protohistoric period.

Fig.9. Eastern Changthang. Khyungs painted in red ochre are only found in the eastern portion of Upper Tibet. This specimen with its long body and wedge-shaped tail has undergone much wear and the browning of the pigment. It dates to the protohistoric period or early historic period.

Fig. 10. Eastern Changthang. This red ochre khyung was depicted with a massive body and wings. Its horns however were drawn as thin lines. This pictograph, given the character of others found in close proximity, can be dated either to the early historic period or vestigial period (1000–1300 CE).

Fig. 11. Rather than horns, this raptor sports what appears to be a crest. It is located at the same site as the khyungs in figures 2 and 7 and can also be provisionally dated to the Iron Age. There is no body depicted below the diamond-shaped wings. What appears to be the ear is shown as a triangle opposite the rounded beak of the bird.

Contemporary threats to rock art in Upper Tibet

As recent incidents have shown, rock art in Upper Tibet is being destroyed at an unprecedented rate by road construction and vandalism. To date, no effective program of conservation has been instituted by the Tibet Autonomous Region government. Yet, this is the order of the day if Upper Tibet’s ancient rock art is to be saved from the greedy and ignorant.

Fig. 12. Pictured here is the site of Luring Nakha (Lu-ring sna-kha), Ruthok.

Luring Nakha was seriously damaged four or five years ago by workers widening a nearby road. The large light colored rock patch in the center of the rock formation is where the bulk of the site’s petroglyphs were located. It held a dense concentration of prehistoric rock art. There was no need to smash to smithereens this panel of stone for the road is situated a safe distance away. There is plenty of uncarved rock in the vicinity, so any need for this material could have been met easily without destroying precious rock art. Other panels of rock art at Luring Nakha were also decimated. Some rock art however has survived. The vanished rock art is documented in the 1994 publication, “Art of Tibetan Rock Paintings”. Hopefully, the powers that be will see to it that what is left of Luring Nakha is adequately protected, but thus far their track record is not very good.

Fig. 13. This is a picture of the recently erected monument at the famous and important rock art site of Rimodong (Ris-mo gdong), Ru-thok.

This marker in the above photograph was raised by the county government at the foot of the main portion of the site. The Ruthok county government deserves credit for trying to protect Rimodong, but much more needs to be done if it is to be spared the fate of other rock art. Excavations for the new road have come dangerously close to the monument, necessitating the restoration of the site if it is to be defended from erosion and misuse. While a second main panel of rock art at Rimodong is still largely intact, other carvings were obliterated during the widening of the road three years ago. Unfortunately, much of this rock art was never properly inventoried.

Fig. 14. Defaced rock art at Rimodong.

In the last five years, Rimodong has found its way into Chinese and foreign guidebooks and many more people are stopping along the roadside to visit it. Some of these visitors are poor sports and many petroglyphs have been defaced. In the above picture we see an early (1986) example of vandalism. This graffiti obscures ancient zoomorphic art.

It is essential that the rock art of Rimodong is given meaningful protection by the provincial and central governments, with clear recognition of its Tibetan cultural significance. For other sites it is too late. Not far from Rimodong there was a small but early rock art site called Driu Chuthang (Gri’u Chuthang), which I documented in 2000 (see “Antiquities of Upper Tibet”). It no longer exists; having been blown up by those assigned with the task of improving the main highway. With a little care, Driu Chuthang could have been saved; instead another piece of Tibet’s dwindling cultural heritage has been lost.

The individual or group in emblematic form: the mascoids of Upper Tibet

One of the most distinctive genres of rock art in western Tibet is the human form in which compositions are dominated by the head. This type of rock art is directly comparable to the so-called mascoids of southern Siberia, Xinjiang, Qinghai plateau (Amdo), Ladakh, and Indus Kohistan. It has been presumed that rather than the human countenance itself, this art depicts ritualistic masks used to cover the face, thus rock art specialists have coined the rather odd name ‘mascoid’ to describe them. While mascoids found in southern Siberia and the steppes are indeed like human heads (modified by zoomorphic and preternatural features), those of Upper Tibet are much more stylized. That some Tibetan specimens are in fact heads or heads encompassing the torso is borne out by the addition of arms and legs to them.

Primarily on stylistic grounds (a powerful but by no means an always reliable analytical tool), the mascoids of north Inner Asia are conventionally dated to the Bronze Age. They are most strongly identified with the Okunev culture (first half of the second millennium BCE) of the Minusinsk basin (southern Siberia), an ‘archaeological culture’ (defined through interrelated sets of artifacts and burials) that is thought to have spread its influence to the eastern steppes. The Okunev site of Mugur-Sargol has lent its name to a class of mascoids characterized by round or oval heads surmounted by horns or antennae, and human-like eyes, noses and mouths (these are well studied in M. A. Devlet’s 1980 book, Petroglify Mugur-Sargola. Moscow: Nauka).

Mascoids similar to the Mugur-Sargol type are found as far east as the Helankou site in Ningxia and Yinshan in Inner Mongolia. Mascoids in a style allied to the Mugur-Sargol type are also known in the rock art of Indus Kohistan (in the vicinity of Chilas). These too have been dated (using non-direct methods) to the Bronze Age by rock art experts such as H.-P. Francfort, K. Jettmar and V. Thewalt. The mascoids of Ladakh have been carefully catalogued by Laurianne Bruneau, who was recently awarded a doctoral degree from the Sorbonne for her study of rock art. Dr. Bruneau initially classified the mascoids of Ladakh into five categories. Although the Ladakh mascoids are distinctive, Bruneau’s types I and 2 share some esthetic features in common with the mascoids of Siberia and the steppes. Cognate attributes include round heads and pairs of triangular patches. The bases of these triangles conform to the outline of the face, while the apexes point towards the eyes and nose (sometimes enclosing them).

The Ladakh mascoids, while easily recognizable as anthropomorphic renditions, consist generally of more abstract interpretations of the human visage than the steppic examples. The mascoids of Upper Tibet are even more highly stylized and they are characterized by complex ornamentation consisting of linear and curvilinear motifs. Recently, working in collaboration with me, Dr. Bruneau has indentified two more types of mascoids in the Ladakh rock art record. These two types share close design affinities to those of Upper Tibet.  In esthetic terms, Ladakh therefore is a bridge between the mascoids of the steppes and the mascoids of Upper Tibet. After presenting the mascoids of Upper Tibet, we shall explore the potential implications of these esthetic transformations through geographic space.

Fig. 1. On this single boulder in Upper Tibet at least ten mascoids were carved.

I am not aware of any other Inner Asian site where so many mascoids are arrayed in such close quarters (but at the moment I have few publications on the subject at my fingertips). Found at the epicenter of mascoid rock art in western Tibet, I have documented around 40 examples of the genre at this one site. The mascoids of this locale are deeply carved, very adeptly executed and heavily repatinated with so-called desert varnish (the mineralized veneer that forms over rock art with age). The physical presentation of these rock art portrayals indicates that they are of very substantial age. Each mascoid is unique and exhibits a different array of motifs. Most of the specimens on this boulder are particularly abstract in form with few recognizable anthropomorphic traits. In addition to the mascoids, there are animals gracing the boulder. The physical evidence indicates that these zoomorphic depictions were produced in the same timeframe as the mascoids. In fact, they appear to be an integral part of the suite of carved images.

Fig. 2. Like most of the mascoids of Upper Tibet this specimen from the above boulder has a constricted midsection. What may represent horns is found on top of the head. The interior of the mascoid is filled with two pairs of spirals divided by a vertical axis. What appear to be legs are found below the body.

Fig. 3. Two equids (probably horses) on the same boulder as the mascoids shown above.

The upper equid is mounted by an anthropomorphic figure (its head, outstretched arms and legs are discernable). The identity of the rider is ambiguous; it could either be the representation of a human or a divine being. Be that as it may, at the same rock art site there are many depictions of mounted hunters that appear to date to the same general period as the mascoids. The presence of equestrians indicates that such rock art was not produced before the early Iron Age. On the basis of its erosional characteristics, technique of manufacture and stylistic make-up, a substantially later date for this rock art is not very likely. It is conceivable that some mascoid rock art isolated from horsemen may be of an earlier date and should be given a late Bronze Age attribution. We can speculate all we want on the age of the mascoids but until more stringent methods of dating rock art are perfected, a good deal of caution is warranted. I cannot therefore accept unequivocally any of the chronological claims made about mascoids by rock art specialists working in north Inner Asia. That is not to say they are wrong in their judgments but that scientific verification for the most part is still lacking.

In addition to the human likeness, a number of wild yaks were also carved on the boulder in the same timeframe. The Upper Tibetan way of life was and still is very much dependent on the yak, first as a wild creature and then as a domesticated animal. Whatever the purpose of the mascoids, the depiction of wild yaks was seen as an important part of its articulation. It may possibly be that the mascoids, yaks and horseman depicted in association with one another encapsulated the economic and spiritual life of the community in toto, a demonstration of its most cherished beliefs and values.

Fig. 4. A mascoid first documented in 2000.

It was only more recently that I realized this was a mascoid so different is it from north Inner Asian counterparts. Yet, the round object on the top of the head is a feature found in the mascoids of Mugur-Sargol as well. The Upper Tibet specimen is depicted with both arms and legs, which are of insignificant size. In the left hand the figure holds an object that resembles a banner or spear with an ensign, ancient military equipment well documented in Tibetan texts. It is the face with its eyes and nose that dominates the composition. The lower half of the circle is filled with fine lines but no regular pattern can be discerned. The sides of the face are pinched, a typical trait of Upper Tibetan mascoids.

Fig. 5. This bi-circular mascoid has large eyes composed of three concentric circles. The lower half of the face has an engraved middle portion. On top of the head there is a round object (representing a hair knot or a finial on a hat or helmet?).

The abstract nature of the Upper Tibetan mascoids lends them a symbolic aura while the complexity of their design suggests that they enshrined intricate intellectual and/or behavioral traditions. As noted, every mascoid in Upper Tibet is unique. While they share many basic attributes in common, each is finished in various ways, as it they were representative of different individuals, clans or tribes. Perhaps therefore they were carved as social emblems, marking the special identity or function of individuals or groups. Seen as such, the mascoids may have been genealogical in nature, demarcating various lineages or ancestral legacies. Rather than masks per se (such as that worn by Himalayan and Inner Asian shamans more recently), I am inclined to see the so-called mascoids of Upper Tibet as a kind of standard that served a heraldic or armorial function. I hasten to add that I am not directly comparing the mascoids with medievel European political traditions, but rather with the underlying concept of clearly defined martial functionaries embodying concepts and activities valued by society at large.

Fig. 6. These two mascoids were first documented in 2000 on the Upper Tibet Circumnavigation Expedition. The figure on the right holds what appears to be a bow in his left hand and there is something in the right hand of the left figure as well. Both mascoids are topped by curvilinear objects. They are surrounded by figures of a later period, including a horseman, a bowman and what appears to be three dorjes (rdo-rje, vajra), the adamantine thunderbolt of Tibetan Buddhism. The dorje is itself a seminal cultural symbol and placement next to the mascoids suggests their maker appreciated that they too once had great cultural significance.

Fig. 7. This pair of mascoids is joined in the middle by a single line. We might read into this that a male and female are depicted and, if we are feeling romantic, that these are lovers forever immortalized in stone. However, a more pedestrian explanation is that they are possibly emblematic of parallel matrilineal and patrilineal traditions (called cho and ’brang in the Old Tibetan language). But we do not really know. The specimen on the right has exaggeratedly large eyes and two rows of triangles in the lower half of the face. To its right is a wild yak of the same general time period in a style typical of highland Tibet. The specimen on the left is divided into 11 or 12 rounded segments. Both mascoids have legs and feet.

Fig. 8. Some of nine or ten mascoids engraved on the horizontal top of a boulder.

These carvings are also found at the epicenter of mascoid rock art in Upper Tibet. Mascoids have only been documented in western Tibet. While they exist far to the northwest on the Qinghai Plateau and in Inner Mongolia, other portions of Upper Tibet are devoid of this genre of art. This suggests that any intercultural communications which influenced the creation or adoption of mascoids in upland Tibet came from the north or west rather than traveling across the Tibetan plateau from east to west. In my book Zhang Zhung (Austrian Academy of Sciences: 2008), I make the same geographical observations as regards Upper Tibetan archaic funerary monuments.

Fig. 9. The middle portion of the above boulder is filled with a mascoid closely flanked by lesser ones. This gives the impression that the central example is the leading figure perhaps in a political, religious or ancestral sense, the others being ancillary to it. Immediately to the right of the central mascoid and connected to it by one or more lines is what appears to be a bovine or equid (possibly it is a pair of animals directly in line with one another so that little of the more distant animal can be seen). The elongated rectilinear form of this animal will be instantly recognizable to students of Inner Asian rock art and which is conventionally dated to the Bronze Age. Perhaps this is a pair of draught animals such as those that pulled carts or chariots. The animal(s) have that kind of general appearance. If so, the central mascoid may be depictive or emblematic of the (archetypal) operator of wheeled vehicles.

Fig. 10. This mascoid wields what appears to be a bow in the left hand. The smaller round form on top seems more like a head while the large circle with radiating lines seems more like a torso. Legs appear below the body. The torso is ornamented with a cruciform motif and intermediate diagonal lines. We might speculate that these particular designs appeared in other media as well such as shields and ritual objects, hallmarks of individuals or aggregates of individuals, which fulfilled specific social functions or religious purposes.

Fig. 11. A mascoid of more rectilinear proportions over which the six syllable mani mantra was carved. The variable levels of repatination exhibited by the mascoid and mantra are clearly recognizable. The lower part of the figure is ornamented with five circles. The internal features of the upper half of the mascoid have been largely obliterated by the letters. The superimposition of Buddhist inscriptions and motifs on earlier rock art is a common occurrence in Upper Tibet.

Fig. 12. This bi-circular mascoid is of a type also encountered in Ladakh. For the Ladakh examples see the article “Petroglyphs of Ladakh: The Withering Monuments” by Tashi Ldawa Tshangspa, published online on Tibet Heritage Fund website (www.tibetheritagefund.org/pages/posts/withering-heights30.php). Also, see “An Archaeological Account of the Markha Valley, Ladakh” by Q. Devers and M. Vernier, published in the online journal Revue d’Etudes Tibétains, vol. 20, 2011.

Fig. 13. Although all the Upper Tibetan mascoids thus far depicted in this newsletter appear to date to the Iron Age or perhaps in certain cases to the Bronze Age, cruder examples from later times are also encountered. In this image we see a mascoid with typical regional features (legs, complex interior ornamentation and smaller upper circle). It is flanked by a wild herbivore and a standing anthropomorph. This more crudely rendered mascoid was carved with shallow lines and has not undergone as much repatination as others we have examined. As is other rock art in the close vicinity, this composition is best dated to the protohistoric period (100 BCE–650 CE). The maker of this image must have gained inspiration from older mascoid art found in the area. Perhaps his carving was a tribute to distant ancestors and those things they held dear.

Fig. 14. Two later mascoids found at the epicenter of this genre of rock art. The shallow carving and style of companion animals indicate that this is another example of protohistoric period rock art. The artist was savvy enough to create his mascoids in both major head shapes: circular and rectangular.

A big question concerning the mascoids of Upper Tibet is what do they tell us about the interrelationship between western Tibet and other regions of Inner Asia in prehistory? As shown by the mortuary archaeological record of Upper Tibet and by Tibetan archaic funerary texts, correspondences between the material culture of the plateau and the steppes are clear and compelling. Nonetheless, explaining how these parallels came about and what they tell us about cultural sharing and the movements of people is anything but settled. The artistic forms and companion ideas that these forces gave rise to traveled over vast distances in Bronze Age and Iron Age Inner Asia. That Upper Tibet was embraced by long-range exchanges, however, is only now getting the attention such an important piece of the Eurasian ethnical and historical mosaic deserves.

Ladakh is our geographic linchpin, for it gave rise to mascoids exhibiting both north Inner Asian and Upper Tibetan esthetic elements. While the Ladakh genre of mascoids taken as a whole is unique, it appears to have directly borrowed or to have been more generally inspired by the rock art of the steppes. A debt to Upper Tibet may also be suggested, as seems to be the case with other archaeological materials (such as wild ungulate rock art with double volute ornamentation and all-stone corbelled residential architecture), which are far better developed in that region. Nevertheless, artistic flows in the opposite direction may actually be indicated, with analogous mascoids first appearing in Ladakh (among Bodic peoples?) before being transferred east onto the Changthang. If transmission was indeed from west to east, the various types of mascoids found at the Upper Tibetan epicenter of this art may be an offshoot of the typologies common to both Ladakh and upland Tibet. That is to say, mascoids art continued to be transformed as it moved east, subject as it probably was to differing cultural and ethnical environments.

How precisely the Metal Age ethnos and culture of Ladakh was enriched by its neighbors to the north and east remains to be determined. Direct person-to person contacts and the flow of genes in highly complex transactions can be theorized. Trade, war, vassalage, colonization, intermarriage, and pilgrimage are mechanisms by which this enrichment may have been brought about, as reflected in mascoid rock art. It is also possible that some interregional linkages were indirect in nature, Ladakh being caught up in the zeitgeist of those times. Important technological and cultural innovations may have been transmitted through ever shifting human orders, a contagion that spread over time and space along the margins of pastoral communities; a contagion with no single geographic direction or conscious intention per se. Thus, the creation of Ladakh’s mascoids may not only be accounted for by the region having been washed over by a sea of foreign human beings and ideas, but also by this region having been a part of that very same ocean; its diverse demographic, technological and intellectual waters continually intermingling.

For those who care about such technical considerations, I include an edited excerpt of a letter sent to a colleague back in July:

I have just finished reading Michael Frachetti’s important book, Pastoralist Landscapes and Social Interaction in Bronze Age Eurasia (2008). I find much merit in Frachetti’s ideas about the socioeconomic character of localized landscapes having played a major role in fostering wider regional networks, through interactions that take place at the interstices of ever-changing pastoral groupings and strategies. I also have my reservations. In my opinion, while Bronze Age Eurasian homologies can indeed be conceived of as having arisen out of a welter of alinear forces (at least in some cases); symmetries versus vectors, more conventional theories of demic diffusion, colonization, long distance trade, etc. cannot be so easily discarded. In other words, Frachetti’s theory is an alternative not a replacement to understanding the mechanisms behind the transfer of material cultural elements over wide areas. This is most obvious in his argument about the Seima-Turbino phenomenon.

More fundamentally, while Franchetti postulates the absorption of material culture as having to do with the enhancement of the social status of individuals and groups, he fails to provide us with an anthropocentric reason as to why this is so. Very simply, an explication of ideology or the cognitive argument, must be brought to bear, for we are dealing with human beings (however long dead), whose beliefs played a role in the adoption and adaptation of material culture. In this regard, the treatment of ‘religion’ is most useful as difficult as this subject is. The Bronze Age in Eurasia was of course a time well before the rise of the proprietary religions of the Iron Age and classical period, and their use as instruments for the imposition of social and political systems. Nevertheless, Bronze Age Eurasian religious traditions are almost certain to have also played a crucial role in propagating over vast swathes of territory technologies charged with profound ideological significance. For instance, a dagger was more than a tool and more than a socially prized object in Bronze Age Eurasia. It was liable to have symbolized or encoded information related to the mythic and ritualistic. As a motivational factor, ideology ushered in as undergirding the social dynamic that gave impetus to the dissemination of material cultural objects, which Franchetti speaks of in his book, makes his theory less mechanistic, bringing it more in line with actual shared human experience.

Next month: More ancient art of Upper Tibet. Be prepared for some real surprises!

Probably the single biggest discovery this year was pinpointing the epicenter of mascoid rock art in Upper Tibet. The so-called mascoids are highly symbolic anthropomorphic compositions, each of which is unique in style. The astounding array of mascoids in Upper Tibet is directly comparable to those of Ladakh, Indus Kohistan and northern Inner Asia. This discovery establishes an uninterrupted pathway of communications from Transbaikalia to Tibet, cultural intercourse that gave rise to an analogous genre of rock art. Along with other archaeological evidence linking Upper Tibet to the steppes, mascoids demonstrate that this region was once part of the Eurasian pan-cultural orbit. This is liable to have weighty ethnohistorical implications, the nature of we are only beginning to fathom. Mascoids are commonly thought by rock art specialists to date to the Bronze Age. In any case, this intriguing Tibetan art form is very ancient, even if some of it dates to the early Iron Age, which I suspect may be the case. There will be more on Upper Tibet’s mascoids in next month’s issue.

In addition to rock art, two archaic fortresses were documented on the UTRAE II, including one of very significant size and importance. All shall be revealed in the issues to follow!

Revisiting the chariots of Upper Tibet

Let us begin where we began last year when describing the findings of the UTRAE I (August, 2010). On the UTRAE II, what appear to be chariots were found in the central Changthang and in northwestern Tibet. The discovery of the likeness of a wheeled vehicle in northwestern Tibet is the first of its kind. It geographically links the rock art chariot discovered in Ladakh with those of the Changthang. It was puzzling to me that chariot rock art had not been found in northwestern Tibet because this appears to have been a major conduit between the wider Tibetan Plateau and north Inner Asia. So, one of my big hopes for the UTRAE II was that one would show up. Happily one did, but being depicted without draught animals renders its identification less than absolutely certain.

Fig. 1. Chariot sans draught animals found this year in northwestern Tibet. The box, wheels and central beam are all clearly depicted on this somewhat stylized version of the chariot. On adjacent panels is animal rock art of the same age and in typical Upper Tibetan style.

Rock art chariots of the central Changthang were first discovered by Lobsang Tashi, a rock art researcher at Tibet University (see August, 2010 newsletter). One of the two specimens he found was located quite far north in the Changthang. This year, I came across a second chariot in the same proximity. Again, it is depicted without the horses that would have pulled a real-life version (however, the one studied by Lobsang Tashi in the same area appears to be shown with horses). Every rock art chariot that comes to the fore strengthens Upper Tibet’s association with this vital technological and strategic innovation. The chariot, as much as any other archaeological discovery, establishes Upper Tibet’s Eurasian credentials. It also raises all kinds of questions. Chief among these is what agent(s) led to its introduction in Upper Tibet? Did Bronze Age invaders from the steppes actually ride onto the Tibetan Plateau in a spectacular show of military prowess? While we cannot rule out military incursions, the reasons for the Tibetan adoption of the chariot are probably a good deal more intricate if even a little less dramatic. Trade, cultural sharing, technological exchange and political alliances / rivalries are likely to be part of the equation. These interactions may or may not have been accompanied by the mass movements of people. We must await further genomic research concerning the genetic makeup of the Tibetan people before ascertaining the impact of any demic diffusion. Other big questions are when did Tibetans first learn about chariots and when did they begin to make facsimiles on rock?

Fig. 2. The chariot of the central Changthang documented on the UTRAE II. This specimen is also bereft of its draught animals. While the wheels and axle are clearly portrayed, rather than radiating from the hub, the spokes are vertically arrayed. Like most other Upper Tibetan rock art chariots, this one has a square car.

Fig. 3. The chariot of the central Changthang was carved on the saddle-shaped boulder in the foreground. The carving is located on the side of this rock facing the large lake basin. This is a curious location, not typical of the rock art site in general but one that may have had a deliberate purpose. Perhaps actual chariots once raced across this basin. It is certainly level and unobstructed enough to have hosted wheeled vehicles. If so, this petroglyphic chariot may have heralded their arrival in an act of tribute, remembrance or ritual celebration.

The systematic destruction of Guge’s ancient chortens

It was only this year that I have come to fathom the degree of looting that has taken place in Guge, one of Upper Tibet’s premier cultural regions. Looting in recent years has been widespread and highly systematic, the result of a collaborative effort that seems to reach far and wide. Earlier, according to information received, I thought this looting was carried out by isolated criminal gangs. However, this is only part of the picture, or so it seems.

It is reported that many sites with ancient chortens (stupas) have been ransacked in the last three to five years. These chortens were opened to recover marketable goods. From what I hear, among the most valuable artifacts found were religious paintings on cloth known as thangkas.

Fig. 4. The recently vandalized chorten complex of Darkam. At this remote site the looters could work at leisure. They opened every single chorten, cleaning out with meticulous care every single repository.

Fig. 5. A close-up of a Darkam chorten. The thieves left not one stone unturned in their search for saleable objects. The disgorged contents and structural elements lie below the chorten.

The 11^th and 12^th centuries were a time of great chorten building in Guge as part of the second diffusion of Buddhism. Guge was of course a great center of Buddhist learning and monastic development in that period. A significant portion of the chortens destroyed in recent years appears to date to the 11^th and 12^th centuries CE. As noted in Flight of the Khyung last year, while the finials and spires of chortens were destroyed in the Chinese Cultural Revolution, the central bulbous portion (bumpa) of these structures was often left intact. It is inside the bumpa that sacred objects were enshrined as part of the consecration process. It is through the consecration process that the beneficial properties of chortens are believed to be activated. Tibetans see chortens as a means of propagating the Dharma, protecting the environment and preventing natural disasters. Blessed earth, medicines and cloth, and jewels as well as holy images are often deposited inside as part of the empowering of a chorten. Damaged sacred objects like broken statues or water-damaged scriptures were also customarily placed in chortens, as a way of dealing with things that were no longer functional but which could not be cast away like ordinary refuse.

Their cultural and historical value aside, whatever spiritual aid the ancient chortens may have provided Guge is now consigned to history. Dozens of sites consisting of hundreds of chortens have been despoiled. There is however one valley where the thieves were not successful. This success story is all down to a savvy headman and his alert villagers. Thanks to their vigilance the chortens of the famous Dungkar valley were largely spared. To be sure, thieves visited Dungkar, as they did almost every other valley in Guge, but they were caught in the act and detained by the villagers. These five miscreants from eastern Tibet were turned over to the police and given long prison sentences. When caught they were in possession of a thangka they had looted from one of the Dungkar chortens. The looters however have their masters and these people are still at large, embedded as they are in the society.

Fig. 6. The chorten complex at Hala, another remote site in Guge. Three or four years ago every chorten at this location was violated.

Fig. 7. In this close-up image the central axis (srog-shing) of the chorten is visible. This timber and others like it can potentially tell us much about environmental conditions in olden Guge. In Hala, the thieves with almost surgical precision emptied every chamber of every chorten of its contents.

Fig. 8. The recently ransacked chorten complex of Khyunglung Yulme. These chortens are situated near a large village but despite their conspicuous location they were not safe from the well supported activities of thieves. This site and the caves above are now being developed for mass tourism with the construction of a road right up to its base. The lovely white pools of a nearby sacred hot spring have been run over by a bulldozer for no apparent reason.

Now that most of the chortens of Guge are mere shells, it might be useful for the Cultural Relics Bureau or some other concerned organization in the PRC to scientifically date some of their wooden members, in a bid to better understand the history of these monuments. It is also high time for the authorities to devise an effective plan for the conservation of Tibet’s ancient architectural heritage.

Fig. 9. A largely intact circa 11th century CE chorten at Manam Gonpa, Guge.

More on the golden funerary masks of the Himalaya

Fig. 10. The golden burial mask of Gu-ge. Photo, courtesy of Li Linhui

In last month’s newsletter, I introduced readers to three golden funerary masks recently discovered in tombs in Guge, Uttaranchal and Mustang. To better comprehend the significance of this archaeological material it is useful to place it within a broader geographic and cultural context. In the Old World, the use of golden funerary masks can be traced to Egypt and Mycenae, circa 1500 BCE. There are also gold burial masks from the West that date to the Iron Age, the period in which we might expect the first Himalayan specimens were made. For example, a Thracian golden funerary mask was discovered in Bulgaria’s ‘Valley of the Kings’. Dated to circa the 5^th century BCE, the figure on this mask is heavily bearded and thought to be of royal rank. Golden death masks of Greeks from this same timeframe have been unearthed in the Republic of Macedonia, on the island of Samos and in the Bosporus.

Closer to our area of interest is the gold death mask of the so-called Yingpan Man of the Tarim Basin. It is made of two pieces of gold foil joined through rivets and solder. The face is decorated with inlaid rubies. This burial mask is thought to date to circa 3^rd of 4^th century CE. Its facial features are not unlike those of the Sam Dzong mask of Mustang, perhaps another indication of the interconnections between these two regions that other archaeologists are exploring. The Guge funerary mask is also a great work of art and comprised of two plates of solid gold or gold leaf on a metal base (we must wait for the report from Li Linhui et al. to know which). However, its facial features and construction are very different from the Tarim Basin specimen. As much as these masks represent the actual visage of the deceased person they accompanied, we can see the differing physiognomy as reflecting distinctive ethnic and / or cultural sources. Like the rock art mascoids of Upper Tibet, each of the three golden masks of the Himalaya is unique. This individuality is in accord with the ‘golden face’ (gser-gzhal) of the Tibetan archaic funerary tradition: the likeness of the deceased reproduced as part of the evocation rite of the soul or consciousness principle.

The Guge funerary mask is also distinctive for its embossed wild ungulates and birds. The archaic religious and secular traditions of Tibet, as recorded in Old Tibetan and Eternal Bon literature, are replete with zoomorphic imagery. Animals assume myriad functions as part of a mythic and intellectual universe where they were viewed as spiritual, ancestral and ecological figures responsible for human well being. The Guge mask mirrors this overarching cultural theme; of animals as the allies and guides of the dead. To better understand the burial masks of the Himalaya, a comprehensive comparative study is needed. Of special interest to such a study are the burial masks of Siberia (late first millennium BCE to circa the 7^th century CE).

In Inner Asia golden burial masks continued to be made as late as the 11^th century CE. A Khitan burial mask from 1018 CE was found on the corpse of Xiao Shaoju, the husband of the fabled Princess Chen. The custom of making such masks was part of various non-Buddhist funerary rites. In Tibet these old rites fell out of favor after the 9^th century CE. The diffusion of golden burial masks in ancient Eurasia is but one funerary tradition that spread widely throughout the region. The challenge before us now is to trace these cognate traditions through time and space. This is a formidable task requiring the expertise and energy of scholars from various disciplines.

• Mark Aldenderfer (School of Social Sciences, Humanities and Art, University of California, Merced) et al.: Transhimalayan migrations in upper Mustang

Professor Mark Aldenderfer began by bringing our attention to longstanding questions concerning the movements of people in the Himalaya and surrounding regions. In order to answer these questions more focused interdisciplinary studies of Himalayan migrations are required. For no less than 3000 years, migrations to Mustang have been taking place, some of which are likely to have been tied to the salt trade. In the 1100 to 1600 CE timeframe, a historically documented migration of people from Tibet to Mustang took place. Many of these residents lived in caves hewn from the formations; some so tall and intricate that they can be described as ‘apartment complexes’. As for earlier periods of tenure in the region, there is the Chokhopani (1200–450 BCE) and Mebrak (450 BCE to 50 AD) periods. The site of Samdzong was occupied circa 400–500 CE. Rather than open cavities, there is physical evidence to show that many burials consisted of shaft tombs.

At Mebrak, it is the upper ‘caves’ that had mortuary functions. Defleshing of corpses was widely practiced as indicated by cut marks on the bones. Professor Aldenderfer sees this as possibly being a precursor to sky burial practices of the historic era. Many tombs contain the full range of age groups and both sexes.

Genetic studies of mitochondrial DNA recovered from human remains at Mebrak demonstrate that the population was relatively cosmopolitan. The haplogroups M3, M4 and M25 are specific to the Indian Subcontinent, while the haplogroups M10, D4 and D45 are of Tibetan or east Asian origins. The analysis of strontium isotopes from dental enamel, a signal of where a person was born, indicate that most of the population was native to Mustang (note: place of birth may have little to do with genetic ancestry). One individual from the Samdzong site that underwent molecular analysis had a genome remarkably similar to that of an early Bronze Age person from Xinjiang. Copper beads found at this site are probably of southeast Asian origin.

Although the scientific data reflects various human movements in Mustang, hard evidence directly linking the region to Tibet has yet to be compiled. However, metal artifacts found in the tombs are yet to be sourced.

My comments: The widespread use of what appear to be mountaintop ossuaries in the western Changthang (Byang-thang) is another example of disposal were defleshing or desiccation must have taken place. I relate these Upper Tibetan burials to the practice of excarnation, whereby enshrined human bones were invested with magical / sacred properties. As for the placement of shaft tombs at the tops of the cave complexes, this is liable to be related to Tibetan archaic eschatological beliefs concerning skyward passage to the celestial afterlife.

Fig. 1. The gold mask from Samdzong, Nepal. From the presentation of Mark Aldenderfer

Fig. 2. A wooden mortuary crib from Mebrak, Nepal. From the presentation of Mark Aldenderfer

• Tong Tao (Institute of Archaeology, Chinese Academy of Social Sciences): Archaeological data for cultural exchange between west Tibet and south Xinjiang before the imperial Tibet period – significance of Kaerdong cemetery

Dr. Tong Tao observed that a silk from the Astana cemetery in Xinjiang dated to circa 455 CE has the same two-color scheme and broad design parallels with the silk recently discovered at Khardong (Mkhar-gdong). Another comparable silk was discovered in the Yuli cemetery, Xinjiang. Dr. Tong believes that the copper alloy vessels found in the Khardong burial were imported from Xinjiang. Gilt silver fragments were also recovered from this burial. Dr. Tong compared a perforated wooden slip from Mazar Tagh with wooden fragments from the Khardong burial. On a circular wooden vessel found at Khardong there are traces of paint. Dr. Tong sees the woven cane object recovered at Khardong as being a basket. A grave good that points to Transhimalayan trade links cited by Dr. Tao is birch bark. The wooden combs found in the Khardong burial are similar to those found in Xinjiang. In Xinjiang, those combs with a rounded form can be dated to the 3rd to 5th centuries CE. Dr. Tong compared the ceramics of the Khardong burial to those from far afield. He theorizes that this was a princely burial of Zhang Zhung. He further notes that the funerary objects indicate the formation of a pathway of communications to Xinjiang.

My comments: I concur with Dr. Tong Tao’s general conclusions that the Khardong burial was of an individual with a high occupational rank and/or high social status and that it has cultural affinities to Xinjiang. It should be noted that this burial is actually located at Gurgyam (Gur-gyam) and not Khardong. Dr Tong’s comparisons with specific silks discovered in Xinjiang is also helpful (although the Gurgyam specimen is somewhat older). My preliminary assessment is that the copper alloy vessels of the so-called Khardong burial are of local manufacture. Sanctioned and illegal excavations in western Tibet have consistently turned up protohistoric metal objects of a very high manufacturing and esthetic standard (including types like those found at Gurgyam). Moreover, geometric and zoomorphic ornamentation on metal objects found in western Tibet is in an indigenous style. Nevertheless, a detailed typological study of copper alloy vessels is needed to definitively fix the provenance of the Gurgyam examples. The wooden slip from Mazar Tagh, a Tibetan record keeping device (byang-bu) from the imperial period occupation of Central Asia shown in Dr. Tong’s presentation, is not directly comparable to wooden objects found at Gurgyam, for the latter date to the protohistoric period. As for the ceramic assemblage of the Gurgyam burial, it is most comparable to those recovered from other western Tibetan mortuary sites. Finally, I should point out that the woven cane item appears to be a shoe, and is excellent evidence for Transhimalyan trade links having existed in the time of the burial (circa 300 CE). For more information on the Gurgyam interment and its radiocarbon date, please see my October 2010 newsletter.

Fig. 3. The silk from the Gurgyam burial (left) and one from Xinjiang, PRC. From the presentation of Tong Tao

• Vinod Nautiyal (Dept. of History and Archaeology, HNB Garwhal University): Archaeological, geophysical and scientific investigations of high mountain cave burials of Malari, Uttarakhand Himalaya, India

Malari is the name of a village and archaeological site in the Alaknanda valley of the Chamoli district of Uttarakhand. There are a number of archaeological sites in the Alaknanda valley that can be broadly dated 1000 BCE to 800 CE. Some ceramics recovered from this region are of a type associated with the plains of India. This appears to indicate that peoples from the plains had begun to move into the Uttarakhand Himalaya by 1000 BCE. The burials of Malari were hewn from calcareous formations and the mouths of the graves were blocked by large boulders. These burial chambers measure around 1.5 m x 2.5 m. In one burial the complete skeleton of a yak hybrid was found. At burial sites in Khinga, Nepal, skeletons of yak hybrids were also discovered. As a beast of burden, the hybrid yak was venerated by the cultures that carried out these burials. Also, skeletal remains of a juvenile human were discovered in the Malari cave burials. Carbon isotopic analysis of these remains is now being conducted in an attempt to reconstruct the paleodiet of the region. In order to survey the region more thoroughly, magnetic gradiometry is being carried out.

Recently, during road construction, cist burials were discovered along the bank of the Sutlej river, below Kunam village in Himachal Pradesh. Among the burials was an entire human skeleton, dated to circa 2300 BCE. Professor Vinod Nautiyal theorizes that the burials of Himachal Pradesh, Uttarakhand, Mustang and western Tibet of circa 2000 to 2700 years ago represent an interrelated cultural regime.

My comments: Finally, after so many years the archaeological evidence from the Central Himalaya is starting to build in both quantity and quality. Hopefully, this is the beginning of a period of more intensive and more rigorous investigation of the region. While cultural affinities between far-flung Himalayan valleys can be divined, improved scientific methodologies are required to determine the true nature and extent of interregional cultural and demic correspondences.

I would like to suggest an alternative hypothesis to explain the deposition of hybrid yaks (mdzo) in the tombs of the Central Himalaya. According to Old Tibetan funerary documents (written circa 700–1000 CE, but harking back to earlier times), hybrid yaks were sacrificed as offerings to appease the demons of death, freeing the dead to make the journey to the afterlife. Female hybrid yaks and steeds were also used as mystic vehicles for the transport of the dead (females and males respectively) to the otherworld.

Fig. 4. The grave goods from a burial in Malari, Uttarakhand, India. From the presentation of Vinod Nautiyal

Fig. 5. The golden burial mask discovered in Malari. Photograph courtesy of Vinod Nautiyal

• R. C. Bhatt (Dept. of History and Archaeology, HNB Garwhal University): Malari cave burials, funerary gold mask and evolved ceramic tradition in Uttarakhand Himalaya, India

Professor R. C. Bhat began his presentation by stressing trade links between Malari and western Tibet that existed until 1962. The Painted Greyware culture of north India extended into the hills of the Ganga-Yamuna doab. However, the black and redware of the north Indian megalithic burials is not known in these Himalayan foothills. Some ancient ceramics recovered in Uttarakhand have strong affinities with the Gandharan grave culture of Swat. There are fine examples of this type of ceramics from the Malari cave burials. Also copper utensils were recovered from these tombs. Professor Bhat believes that a gold mask found in a Malari grave is of royal significance. This mask (8 cm x 7 cm) is made of beaten gold less than 1 mm in thickness. It may have been formed from an impression. A gold pendant was also found in Malari.

My comments: The facial features and shape of the head of the Malari burial mask are not unlike wooden and metal masks from western Nepal, which were used for worship, protection and ritual purposes. The Nepalese masks, however, date from after the 16th century CE. It should be possible to historically trace the anthropomorphic form in the art of the Central Himalaya more closely.

Fig. 6. Ceramic pot with supporting arm over the spout. From the presentation of R. C. Bhatt

• Lin Linhui (Tibet Autonomous Region Institute of Cultural Relics and Archaeology): New archaeological discovery found in Ngari, Tibet: Quta cemetery

In his presentation, Dr. Lin Linhui showed a map with 40 archaeological sites of various types and periods in far western Tibet. Recently, two tombs were discovered in Guge (Gu-ge) during road construction. The Quta cemetery is close to the famous monastery of Tholing (Mtho-lding). Tomb M1 (approximately 5 m²) consists of a pit and passageway to the surface. A wooden coffin was found on the south side of the grave pit. Among the human remains was a mask (13.5 cm in length), which Dr. Linhui speculates may have been used as a pectoral ornament. An iron arrowhead and ceramics similar to those discovered on the other side of the Himalaya were found in Tomb M1. Ceramic amphorae were also deposited in this tomb. Tomb M2 consisted of a single chamber containing a mortuary crib upon which rested two flexed corpses. Ceramics and weaving implements were placed in the tomb. Dr. Lin noted that the ceramic vessels with high pedestals are similar to those found in Himachal Pradesh and Uttarakhand. In some ceramics there is a white powder residue. To the left of the burial there was a peach-shaped box, to the right of the burial lay a square stone tray. Also, ironware, gold ware, weapons and ornaments were discovered in Tomb M2.

Dr. Lin compares the Quta burials to those of Khardong, Kharpoche (Mkhar-po che) and Gebusailu, dated to circa 2600–2100 BCE. The earliest of these cemeteries was Gebusailu, which like Quta has shaft tombs. However, while some gold objects were discovered in Gebusailu its tombs did not contain wooden coffins. According to Dr. Lin, the Quta burials are about 2000 years old.

My comments: Dr. Lin Linhui was so generous as to give me a copy of his entire power point presentation, so that I could inspect his discoveries in more detail. I heartily thank him for it and hope that some of my comments might prove useful. Clearly, the Quta site is one of the most important tomb discoveries made in western Tibet, a huge contribution to ongoing archaeological inquiry in the region. The excavation of the two Quta tombs was a salvage operation, in which the priority was to save significant material objects from oblivion. In what way organic and inorganic objects were deposited in the tomb and subsequently collected remains to be disclosed.

When the conference members saw the ceramics and mask from the Quta burials an exclamatory sound rung out across the hall. It was plain for all to see how much these objects resembled those found in Malari. This of course reflects certain technological and cultural affinities between these two funerary sites straddling the Himalaya, but the precise nature of their interrelationship is yet to be determined. Axiomatic in archaeology is that just because objects from different sites resemble each other this does not necessarily mean that those who made and used them shared the same life-ways, language or history. It is even possible that a culture Y and a culture X, although sharing close material cultural correspondences, did not even know of each other’s existence, let alone have direct lines of communication. Still, despite these admonitions, I think it is likely that the peoples of the Quta and Malari burials enjoyed cooperative economic and cultural relations. Material cultural analogues can be accounted for in sundry ways having to do with trade, political alliances, hegemony, vassalage, diplomacy, ceremonial transfer of prestige objects, and concurrent interregional / intercultural trends in the exercise of technical and design information, among other mechanisms that inform parallel material cultural development.

Dr. Lin believes the Quta mask is composed of gold but he was not certain. From the photograph available to me, the mask appears to be made of a thin layer of gold applied over a silver base. Likewise, Dr Lin could not say what the substances attached to the edges of the mask were. In any case, they appear to have included a textile. Dr. Lin indicated that an analysis of the Quta grave goods is now underway.

The mask consists of two sheets of metal connected to one another through a series of linked holes. Leather throngs may have been used to tie the two sheets together, but we must await more information and better photographs to know for certain.

The lower sheet of the mask is a likeness of the human face. It exhibits somewhat similar features to the Malari mask: a long nose, lips simulating the faintest of smiles and wide oval eyes. These facial features do not appear to be very Mongoloid. In Upper Tibet, the oral tradition abounds with tales of the Mon, an ethnic group believed to be of Himalayan stock that is supposed to have controlled much of the Changthang and western Tibet in ancient times. The Bon textual tradition for its part maintains that in prehistoric times bon priests were active in both the temperate Himalaya and in Upper Tibet. Given the countenance of the mask and the Tibetan cultural traditions, one possible hypothesis is that at least some of the social elite of western Tibet some 2000 years ago were indeed of cis-Himalayan origins.

The upper plate of the Quta mask is rectangular and is ornamented with two rows of repoussé animals. The lower row consists of three wild ungulates that resemble blue sheep, each facing to the left. Each of these animals occupies the bottom portion of a three tiered object surmounted by a bulbous structure. These are representations of ceremonial structures known in Tibetan literature as a sekhar (gsas-mkhar), tenkhar (rten-mkhar) or lhaten (lha-rten). According to a Bon text from the Ge-khod cycle, these elementary tiered shrines were first used in the Upper Tibetan kingdom of Zhang Zhung in pre-Buddhist times (see my book Zhang Zhung for more information). These types of shrines (complete with the bulbous upper section) abound in the rock art of highland Tibet. They are also known in the form of stone and metal models and miniature copper alloy talismans. In my writings, I have consistently maintained that tiered shrines may have originated long before Buddhism and stupas gained a foothold in Tibet. The discovery of embossed variants on the Quta burial mask shows this to be the case (but let us await chronometric data from the burial to make this official). What was unknown until the Quta mask came to light is that some of these ceremonial structures had funerary ritual significance. In Bon literature, they are assigned with cosmological and deity enshrining functions. The upper row of the upper plate is comprised of six birds: two confronted pairs in the middle and solitary birds at either end of the row. This line of avian figures is set between the upper sections of the three shrines. These birds may represent aquatic species or possibly cranes. Various birds and wild ungulates are well attested in the Tibetan archaic funerary tradition. Stylistically, these animals are comparable to both Upper Tibetan rock art and zoomorphic talismans known as thokchas (thog-lcags). Between one confronted pair of birds there is what appears to be a tree.

As for the function of the Quta mask, I am inclined to see it as a likeness of the deceased used for ritual purposes. The Tibetan archaic ritual tradition places much stock in the ‘golden face’ (gser-zhal), which was used as a receptacle for the soul of the deceased during the evocation rite held before burial. According to Bon religious tradition, this object consisted of a facsimile or effigy of the departed (see Zhang Zhung for further information). It may therefore be the case that the golden burial masks found in Guge and the high Himalaya are the precursors of this type of imperial period funerary ritual instrument (interestingly, the origins myths attached to the explication of the funerary ritual armory are often set in primal or prehistoric times). The embossed animals on the mask may well be representations of the zoomorphic spirit allies that were believed to usher the dead to the afterlife (for more on these pyschopomps, see my forthcoming book, Death and Beyond in Ancient Tibet). These zoomorphic deities helped protect the dead from the predation of the demons of death, malevolent beings intent on keeping the deceased in their clutches. The embossed tree appears to be another type of soul receptacle. In the textual tradition, a juniper tree usually fulfills this function. The Quta and Malari burial masks (also the one discovered in Samdzong, Nepal) were probably placed over the face of the deceased, a practice found in a variety of Eurasian funerary cultures. The Quta mask suggests that a textile shroud was originally attached to perforations around the edge of the Malari mask as well.

As for the white powder found in vessels at Quta: the broad, shallow form of some of these vessels is not of the type normally used to store liquids. If milk contains even a modicum of fat, it will not remain white in color for long, but it will discolor and through bacterial action it will be chemically transformed and may all but disappear. Even pure milk serum (whey) tends to darken with age and if deposited as a liquid, it will usually dehydrate as a granular mass, not as a fine white powder.

Fig. 7. The golden burial mask discovered in a Quta burial, Guge, TAR. From the presentation of Lin Linhui

Fig. 8. Ceramics, arrowhead and other objects from tomb M1, Quta, Guge, TAR. Of special interest to us is the vase with the spout, which is directly comparable to those discovered in Malari on the opposite side of the Himalayan range (see fig. 6). From the presentation of Lin Linhui

Fig. 9. A copper alloy talisman in the form of three-tiered ceremonial structure with bulbous top. Protohistoric period or early historic period. Private collection

Fig. 10. A rock carving of a similar style ceremonial structure found in Ruthok. Protohistoric period

• Dorji Penjore (The centre for Bhutan Studies): Constructing prehistory in Bhutan through archaeological evidence

This presentation by Mr. Dorji Penjore provided a much needed overview of the state of archaeological research in Bhutan. He explained that archaeological evidence for prehistory in Bhutan is disappearing due to natural and anthropogenic forces. Buddhism also acted to reinterpret the distant past, obscuring the early cultural heritage of Bhutan. Stone tools chanced upon in fields are thought to be ‘iron’ from the sky, the weapons of the gods. They are collected to use as talismans. Mr. Dorji Penjore on typological grounds dates one stone adze to 2000–1500 BCE. Stone pillars are found at monasteries, in the mountains and as border markers. At the Nabje temple, a pillar is thought to have been erected by Guru Rinpoche (8th century CE), when he brokered a peace deal between two warring kings. Mr. Dorji Penjore believes that some of these pillars are of prehistoric origins. Many old bowl-shaped concavities in boulders were used for grinding.

The 200 m long Drapham Dzong in Bumthang (circa 1500–1700 CE) was excavated by the Swiss. A tomb at Batapalathang has been dated to 665–980 CE. The Lasay Tsangma castle, according to the oral tradition, was built by the younger brother of Lang Darma (Glang dar-ma, the last emperor of Tibet). Mr. Dorji Penjore sees this site as a good candidate for excavation. At Mazang Daza, a stone-lined tomb was discovered by farmers. It bears some resemblance to other cis-Himalayan tombs. The Bangtsho fortress castle is reputed to have nine underground levels. The first level was excavated by the Bhutanese government but the results were less than fully satisfactory.

The first Bhutanese archaeologist completed his training in 2006. The Bhutanese government would like to conduct more excavations in due course.

My comments: I think it might prove worthwhile if Bhutan carried out a comprehensive inventory of its archaeological assets before too many other precious sites and objects are lost.

• Lu Hongliang (Center for Tibetan Studies of Sichuan University): Transhimalayan interaction in prehistory

Dr. Lu Hongliang explained that his presentation was derived from his dissertation, which he plans to publish. Dr Lu critiqued the so-called three-step model of the peopling of the Tibetan plateau proposed by Dr. Jeffery Brantingham as being regionally biased. This model focuses almost entirely on the Qinghai plateau. Paleolithic hand-axes from Pakistan and Nepal and those found in the TAR may point to other entry points for the human colonization of the Tibetan plateau. Majiayao Neolithic ceramics are not found in Tibet. The Tibetan Neolithic ceramics assemblage is qualitatively different, says Dr. Lu. Dr. Lu also briefly discussed the perforated semi-crescent shaped sickles found in Burzahom (Kashmir), Chusang (central Tibet) and Kharro (eastern Tibet). Birch bark found in the tombs of Gyaling (Rgya-gling, in western Tibet) appears to have come from the south side of the Himalaya, another example of Transhimalayan interaction. Dr. Lu also compared the ceramic vessels found in Gyaling and Mustang with those carved on rocks in Ruthok. He places the bronze dagger discovered in Kharpoche (western Tibet) with those of southwestern China. In conclusion, Dr. Lu matched the standing stones in Asota, Pakistan with those of Upper Tibet. From these various material parallels he postulates western Transhimalayan and Inner Asian links, having to do with trade. Finally, he called for a multidisciplinary project to better understand these links.

My comments: Dr Lu Hongliang’s presentation featured many intriguing parallels over a vast area extending well beyond the Tibetan Plateau. His premise that the peopling of the Tibetan plateau was multidirectional demands careful consideration by all scholars working on such questions. His thesis that the Tibetan Neolithic was not a mere extension of the Majiayao culture also has merit. For too long archaeologists working in the field have disregarded differences in the drive to find similarities in Neolithic ceramic assemblages. Moreover, theories regarding the direction of material culture transfers have often been made without much critical attention to the underlying premises upon which these are based.

Finding similarities in the material cultures of proximate regions is the raw material for further inquiry based on a well defined methodological regimen. Subsequent study could benefit from the devising of systematic comparative criteria applied to a theoretical template that includes models of demic diffusion, acculturation, trading activity, among other processes that may account for material cultural parallels over wide areas. This is a field of research that has gained much ground in Western archaeology in recent years, but a lot still needs to be done to refine the models and to interpret material remains with more precision.

Fig. 11. From the presentation of Lu Hongliang

• Anke Hein (Cotsen Institute of Archaeology, University of California, Los Angeles): Movements on the eastern rim of the Tibetan Plateau – The prehistoric Liangshan region as multi-cultural intersection

Ms. Anke Hein’s presentation was focused on the amazing geographic juncture of the Nangzhao plateau, Tibetan Plateau and the meridian ranges of western Sichuan. She furnished participants with an overview of the extremely rich ecological, cultural and archaeological characteristics of this region. Many material cultural commonalities exist in this region’s archaeological record. A variety of causal mechanisms potentially need to be considered in accounting for material analogues. First off, it should be determined whether material cultural parallels are the result of independent development in different geographic centers. Secondly, if interregional contacts are indicated, were they direct or indirect in nature. Direct contacts may include migrations, the temporary movements of people, trade, and emissary gift-giving, among others.

• Shishuo (Center for Tibetan Studies of Sichuan University): The culture of Tibet Neolithic and its connection with surrounding areas

According to Mr. Shishuo, there were four main regional Neolithic centers on the Tibetan plateau: northeast (Majiayao), southeast (Kharro), central (Chos-gong, Chu-shur, Mal-gro gung-dkar) and western (Sdings-zlum). As for Neolithic sites on the Changthang, he connects these to stone monuments and petroglyphs. According to Shishuo, the Changthang Neolithic was probably an integral regional nomadic culture distinct from Majiayao but closely related to Kharro, as determined through a typological survey of microliths.

Mr. Shishuo reports that the Neolithic peoples of the upper Yellow river basin, Kharro, central Tibet, and western Tibet were closely related and that they may have enjoyed systematized relationships. He proposes that the upper Yellow river Neolithic had a heavy influence on Kharro which in turn spread to central Tibet. Also, some Neolithic features of Kashmir spread to central Tibet. He also believes that certain Kashmir Neolithic traits originated in eastern Tibet. To illustrate his ideas, Shishuo compared the various ceramic, microlith, stone mace, and semi-crescent adze assemblages.

My comments: It is essential that Mr Shishuo’s hypotheses (many of which were borrowed from earlier contributions to the field) and other notions about the Tibetan Neolithic are tested with much greater rigor. This is an exciting project that could engage a new generation of archaeologists. I should also note that to date not one rock art or megalithic site in the Changthang has been securely dated to the Neolithic.

Fig. 12. From the presentation of Shishou

• Yidilisi Abuduresule (Xinjiang Autonomous Region Institute of Cultural Relics and Archaeology): The Xiaohe culture and the recent development of its multi-disciplinary research

Dr. Yidilisi Abuduresule provided us with an update of Bronze Age and Iron Age discoveries in Xinjiang, complete with many spectacular photographs. In 2008, a cemetery was excavated at Keliya in the Taklamakan, significantly extending the scope of the Xiaohe culture.

Fig. 13. From the presentation of Yidilisi Abuduresule

This month’s Flight of the Khyung buzzes in and out of Tibet to provide readers with news from a recent archaeological conference in Chengdu, Sichuan. The International Conference on the Prehistory of the Tibetan Plateau was held between August 21 and August 24. It was sponsored by the Center for Tibetan Studies of Sichuan University. Harvard University also provided some sponsorship. Airport transfers, hotel accommodation and meals for participants were provided free of charge by the sponsors. Thank you to all concerned!

Nearly 40 archaeologists from the PRC, USA, India, Nepal, Bhutan, and Germany gave presentations. The topic matter varied greatly as did the methodologies and approaches used. This conference was no doubt a shot in the arm for international collaboration in the field of Tibetan archaeology, giving scholars from diverse backgrounds the opportunity to see what colleagues from other countries and institutions are doing. Hopefully, this will lead to further multidisciplinary international cooperation in Tibet.

The International Conference on the Prehistory of the Tibetan Plateau was superbly organized and the events, accommodation and meals were of a high standard. Everything ran like clockwork, a tribute to the hard work of both faculty and students of the Center for Tibetan Studies of Sichuan University. One of the most exciting aspects of the entire conference was to see and meet young Chinese scholars working towards their PhD’s in archaeology. They have much promise and with them archaeological research in Tibet should move away from largely salvage and trophy operations towards hard science approaches to comprehending the distant past. Hopefully, more ethnic Tibetans will make archaeology their calling; at the conference only one Tibetan made a presentation, showing how much still needs to be done to make this field more inclusive. A second Tibetan participant from the Cultural Relics Administration, Lhasa, was invited but at the last minute he could not attend.

The keynote address was delivered by Professor Huo Wei, the director of the Center for Tibetan Studies of Sichuan University. Another important convener was Professor Li Yongxian of the same institute. I have known both of these fine individuals for over a decade. I heartily thank them for inviting me to the conference and for picking up some of my travel expenses. This was the third such Tibet archaeology conference. The first one was held in Beijing in 2003. I was able to attend that one but missed the second one convened in Chengdu a few years later.

Fig. 1. The conference attendees. Photo courtesy of the official conference photographers

The individual presentations

The remainder of this issue will focus on specific presentations. I naturally devote more attention to conference papers that are directly relevant to the Upper Tibetan scene. The length and angle of my coverage is therefore dictated by my personal interests and does not reflect the perceived value of any of the research presented. It was to be three days of presentations packed tightly together in a rather intense show of human knowledge and ingenuity. On the second day of the proceedings there were also lectures after dinner. Each speaker was given 30 minutes including time for questions taken from the audience. Some speakers being fluent in both Chinese and English acted as their own translators.

The conference proceedings are due to be published around the end of 2012. I urge all readers interested in Tibetan archaeology to obtain a copy. I am only able to furnish limited information about a selection of presentations in this newsletter.

• Ofer Bar-Yosef (Dept. of Anthropology, Harvard University): Archaeologically recognizing the interactions between farmers, pastoralists and hunter-gatherers

One of the main theses of this first presentation is that in the early Neolithic, agriculturalists began to displace hunter-gatherers by occupying and developing arable lands. Hunters and gathers were subsequently further displaced by early pastoralists. Professor Bar-Yosef illustrated this phenomenon by furnishing paleocultural examples from the Levant, a relatively small but archaeologically rich region. In the Levant, the first cultivation of cereal crops and the first farming villages appeared about 11,500 years ago, very early in the annals of such human innovation. By 8400 BCE, from this cradle of agriculture farming was spreading northward towards Europe and eastward towards the Indus.

In his highly illuminating presentation, Professor Bar-Yosef showed photographs of monumental stone pillars at Göbekli Tepe in Turkey. Up to 5.6 m in height, these pillars were carved with spectacular animal designs some 10,000 years ago. These highly competent carvings were executed only using stone tools in a pre-ceramics stage of cultural development. In the question and answer period that followed the talk, we learned that there are several other such sites of carved pillars in Turkey, clearly one of the greatest technological accomplishments of that age. In further discussions, Professor Bar-Yosef observed how his methodologies for determining the displacement of hunter-gatherers might be transferred to Tibetan archaeology, using the example of the Kharro (Mkhar-ro) Neolithic site in Chamdo (Chab-mdo).

Fig. 2. From the presentation of Ofer Bar-Yosef. Photo courtesy of Chen Jian

• Bing Su (Kunming Institute of Zoology): Genetic studies of human origins and adaptation of the Tibetan Plateau

In one of the most innovative presentations made at the conference Professor Su Bing addressed the big questions of when modern humans first occupied the Tibetan plateau and how they developed a genetically based physiological adaptation to living at extremely high altitudes. Professor Su first gave his audience a review of archaeological evidence for the habitation of the Tibetan Plateau in the Paleolithic and Neolithic. He then discussed the current scientific limitations to using modern human genomic data for studies extending back in time. There are 10 million sequenced polymorphisms known in the human genome but chronologically gauging rates of genetic mutation is still problematic, requiring further research and experimentation. Unfortunately, it is relatively rare to have intact fossil genetic data available for analysis, especially in Tibet. The genetic research of Su Bing strongly indicates that the Tibetan and Chinese genomes are indeed distinctive. Tibetans are also relatively genetically distinct from other populations. The Tibetan M16 haplogroup of mitochondrial (maternal) DNA can be traced back about 23,000 years ago. The Y-chromosome (paternal) DNA with its similar phylogeny possesses a haplogroup peculiar to Tibetans known as M57. This set of chromosomes made its appearance on the Tibetan Plateau as much as 37,000 years ago. These haplogroups and other genomic data suggest that the Tibetans are indeed an ancient indigenous population with multiple geographic origins, one that is approximately 30,000 years old. A wide-scale genetic amalgamation also took place 8000 to 10,000 years ago, further diversifying the Tibetan genome.

Tibetans are well adapted against hypoxia due to their elevated resting ventilation, low hypoxic pulmonary vasoconstrictor response, high level of blood oxygen saturation, and low hemoglobin level as compared to acclimatized lowlanders.

Fig. 3. From the presentation of Su Bing. Photo courtesy of Chen Jian

Fig. 4. From the presentation of Su Bing. Photo courtesy of Chen Jian

• George Miehe (Faculty of Geography, University of Marburg): How to detect the origin of pastoralism of the Tibetan plateau? An ecologist’s view

Dr. George Miehe, a paleoglaciologist and palynologist, began his presentation by discussing the main constraints to the human occupation of the Tibetan plateau: much more energy is needed to move uphill versus walking on a level surface, water loss from the human body is far greater at high elevations and the onset of menses is progressively delayed the higher one lives. Dr. Miehe observed that large fire-induced changes to the environment can be caused by a relatively small population. In Tibet charcoal found in peat dating back about 9000 years ago, corresponds to the period (early Holocene) in which forests began to be converted to grasslands. George Miehe hypothesizes that humans were the cause. To further his case, he cited the example of relict forests in Tibet. As for Tibetan pastureland, it contains 30% endemic species (an unusually high percentage) and extends from 4000 m to nearly 6000 m, the largest alpine elevational range anywhere in the world. The main floral component of Tibetan pastures is Kobresia pygmaea, which has much of its phtyo-mass below the reach of grazing animals. George Miehe attributes the predominance of this species to long acting grazing pressures. Moreover, ‘weeds’ such as plantago found in Tibetan alpine pastures occur along with grazing. To account for his physical evidence, he suggests that domestic animals of the so-called Neolithic package may have arrived in Tibet far earlier than most archaeologists suppose. Dr. Miehe readily admits though that there is a chronological discrepancy here of around 4000 years. How to close it?

My comments: In discussions with George Miehe, I suggested the possibility of the taming of wild ungulates (such as deer and gazelle) may be responsible for what appear to be grazing-induced changes to the Tibetan landscape. This is not domestication per se, but a human-animal relationship based on intensive interactions that may have included corralling, feeding, sheering, and perhaps riding in certain circumstances. In any case, Old Tibetan language texts speak of the ritual exploitation of wild ungulates for milk and hair. Herds of deer in western Tibet are also mentioned in the Old Tibetan Chronicle.

Fig. 5. From the presentation of George Miehe. Photo courtesy of Chen Jian

• Christine Lee (Institute of Vertebrate Paleontology and Paleoanthropology, Chinese Academy of Sciences): Paleopathological evidence for a warrior lifestyle at the Taojiazhai cemetery, Xining, Qinghai

This fascinating talk by Dr. Christine Lee focused on a cemetery of a population related to modern Tibetans found at 2300 m near Xining. Dating to Han times, Dr. Lee’s osteological research shows that those interred at the Taojiazhai cemetery shared familial relationships. Congenital defects were detected in bone remains of the coccyx. Arthritis due to heavy labor (farming, etc.) was widespread. Arthritis in the chest and second finger of the right hand may have been caused by archery. Arthritis in the feet and knees is consistent with heavy walking and carrying loads. At the Taojiazhai cemetery there is much evidence for trauma, accidental and of a military nature. Recurring patterns of trauma to the bones is consistent with organized military operations. A number of victims survived serious injuries, which is indicative of a relatively high standard of medical care. Trepanation among other surgical operations was carried out. Leprosy and TB have also left their telltale marks in the skeletal remains of the cemetery.

My comments: Dr. Christine Lee’s presentation gave participants some inking of what is possible in the field of forensic archaeology. Clearly, the scientific methodologies she relies upon could be introduced on the Tibetan plateau. To date, almost no osteological analyses have been carried out on the many hundreds of corpses unearthed in Tibet. This means that much valuable information about human conditions in ancient Tibet has been lost and is still being lost. Nevertheless, as regards other burials, it is never too late to begin anew.

Fig. 6. From the presentation of Christine Lee. Photo courtesy of Chen Jian

Fig. 7. From the presentation of Christine Lee. Photo courtesy of Chen Jian

• Wu Xiaohong (School of Archaeology and Museology, Peking University): Some issues on chronology in Tibet archaeology

Professor Wu Xiahong has subjected the cultural remains discovered at the Kharro site in eastern Tibet to more stringent chronological testing and analysis. Her findings indicate that certain assumptions about the site (excavated in the 1970s and again in 2002) must be called into question. For example, it cannot be necessarily assumed that all the domiciles with round plans predate those with square plans. Discrepancies also exist in the stratigraphic distribution of radiocarbon dates at Kharro, which are yet to be fully explained.

My comments: Professor Wu Xiahong, head of the National Lab of Quaternary Chronology, has also gently pointed the way forward for Tibetan archaeology. Chronological studies should not be an afterthought, but an integral aspect of any excavation plan. Only by bringing sampling protocols and chronometric testing up to international standards will some of the most basic questions about life in ancient Tibet be answered.

Fig. 8. From the presentation of Wu Xiaohong. Photo courtesy of Chen Jian

• Jade D’alpoim Guedes (Dept. of Anthropology, Harvard University): Early agriculture on the Tibetan plateau: A review of the archaeobotanical evidence

Archaeobotanical evidence thus far assembled indicates that there were three major introductions of domestic grains to the Tibetan plateau: 1) broom millet and foxtail millet to the eastern plateau circa 3500 BCE, 2) naked barley and wheat to the central plateau no later than 1500 years ago, and 3) hulled barley into western Tibet possibly around 500 BCE. Evidence for millet cultivation comes from the Kharro site. In a later period of occupation (circa 2500 BCE) both types of millet were discovered. Also, pig, bovid, hare, fish, cervid, caprid and gazelle bones were recovered at Kharro. The Neolithic package of millet, pigs and ceramics appears to have been introduced to the site from western China, as part of wider diffusive processes.

Hulled barley, naked barley, wheat, lentils and peas are all domesticates of Near Eastern origins. These crops were being cultivated in the Indus valley by circa 3000 BCE. Wheat and barley reached China by 1700 BCE. These introductions in proximate regions may well have had a direct bearing on Tibet. In the Central Tibetan site of Chugong (Chos-gong), charcoal (not from seeds) has been dated to circa 1370 BCE. The naked barley, foxtail millet, wheat, and peas discovered at this site appear to be from that period. Interestingly, the wheat is a free-threshing variety, as is also found in India, but not in many other places. Ms. D’alpoim Guedes noted that very little zooarchaeological work has been conducted in Tibet, thus the introduction of domestic animals is still an unknown quantity. From the available evidence, she estimates that yaks, sheep, goats, and pigs were first domesticated in Tibet sometime between 1750 and 1000 BCE.

At the Mebrak and Phudzeling sites of upper Mustang, naked barley, lentils, buckwheat, cannabis and other crops were being cultivated between 1000 and 400 BCE. In Kohla, Nepal, free-threshing wheat, barley, oats, buckwheat and foxtail millet were being cultivated, 1385–780 BCE.

It is well established that two-row hulled barley was being cultivated in southwest Asia, circa 8000 BCE. Circa 6500 BCE six-row barley appeared in the same region. Circa 6000 BCE, naked barley cultivation began; this variety is easier to thresh and process, as the spikelets do not adhere to the seeds. Naked barley reached Central Asia in the 1500 to 500 BCE timeframe and was often accompanied by wheat. Naked barley but not hulled barley was found at the Dindun (Sdings-zlum) site in western Tibet, circa 400–100 BCE. At Khardong (Mkhar-gdong), also in western Tibet, both naked and hulled barley seeds have been dated circa 80–340 CE. Given this archaeological evidence, Jade D’alpoim Guedes theorizes that barley cultivation in western Tibet began no later than 500 BCE. She also observed that hulled barley is more resistant to cold and aridity.

My comments: The introduction of hulled barley in western Tibet may be directly related to a pronounced cold and dry period that appears to have set in after 300 BCE. The introduction of domestic grain cultivation in western Tibet, as explicated by Jade D’alpoim Guedes, fits nicely with ancient monumental evidence in the region. The construction of ancient citadels at agricultural enclaves accords well with the archaeobotancial evidence. Perhaps the origins of the agrarian strongholds can even be extended back to 1000 or 800 BCE in western Tibet, pending the acquisition of more chronometric data.

Hopefully, archaeobotany and archaezoology will soon gain ground in Tibet. So much is at stake here, if we are to better understand the development of Tibetan civilization

Fig. 9. From the presentation of Jade D’alpoim Guedes. Photo courtesy of Chen Jian

• Lai Zhongping (Luminescence Dating Group, Key Laboratory of Salt Lake Resources and Chemistry): When did prehistoric human beings migrate to the harsh Tibetan plateau: Luminescence and 14C dating results

Dr. Lai Zhongping discussed recent scientific claims for the peopling of the Tibetan plateau, concluding that humans could not have occupied this largest and highest tableland before 13,000 BCE. His conclusions set off a lively debate among the attendees. There are of course those archaeologists who argue for a Middle Paleolithic date regarding the occupation of the Tibetan plateau.

My comments: At this juncture, I belong to the latter camp because an earlier date for the human occupation of the Tibetan plateau seems to best fit the available scientific evidence. During the debate, I noted that even taking Lai Zhongping’s estimates that there existed five to seven times more ice in the last major glacial advance (Younger Dryas event) than at present, this was hardly enough mass to have inundated the Tibetan plateau. An order of magnitude of many tens or hundreds of times more ice would have been needed for that to have occurred. For his part, Dr Mark Aldenderfer defended the OSL dating results for handprints at Chusang. According to Dr. George Miehe, a piece of juniper wood from Lake Dangra may hold an important key to the debate. As the Tibetan juniper genome is marked by long-established hapolotypes, any such analogous genetic material from the Changthang could only have existed if annual average temperatures were not more than 2° centigrade colder, the thermal threshold for juniper growth. There is no altitudinal (warmer) refuge below 4500 m in the Changthang. This Lake Dangra juniper specimen is now with George Miehe and will undergo molecular analysis. Watch this space for the results.

Scientific differences of opinion such as that surrounding human colonization of the Plateau are both stimulating and productive, getting all concerned to reexamine their findings and set out to collect more data.

Fig. 10. Lai Zhongping delivering his lecture. Photo courtesy of the official conference photographers

• Habhibu (Tibet Autonomous Region Institute of Cultural Relics and Archaeology): The condition of archaeological work in Tibet Autonomous Region from 2006 to 2011

Dr. Habhibu announced that an archaeological survey of the TAR was initiated in 2007 and completed this year. He reported that a total of 3013 new sites (including 150 thought to date to the Neolithic) have been discovered, the majority of which are funerary in nature. Dr. Habhibu also presented some archaeological findings from the Mekong river (’Bri-chu) valley of eastern Tibet. Various tombs were recently discovered in this region, which are believed to date from 4500 BCE to 1000 CE. Dr. Habhibu also presented an intriguing ethnographic study of salt collection from the banks of the Mekong river.

My comments: I very much look forward to the publication of the 2007–2011 TAR archaeological survey.

Fig. 11. Habhibu delivering his lecture. Photo courtesy of the official conference photographers

• Li Yongxian (Center for Tibetan Studies of Sichuan University): Regional characteristics of rock art in prehistoric Tibet

Professor Li Yongxian treated us to an overview of rock art discoveries on the Tibetan plateau. He explained that rock art was first discovered in Tibet in Ruthok (Ru-thok) in 1985. Since then some 80 sites have been documented. In recent years, in the Jinsha river valley of southwestern Tibet, 24 rock art sites (20 of which are pictographic) have been discovered. These sites are found at an elevation of 1500–2900 m. Professor Li Yongxian also furnished a typology of Tibetan rock art.

Fig. 12. From the presentation of Li Yongxian. Photo courtesy of Chen Jian

• John Vincent Bellezza (Tibet Center, University of Virginia): Diverting history from oblivion: A plan to conserve the archaeological heritage of Upper Tibet

I was the last speaker on the first day of the presentations. Originally, I was slated to talk about archaeological discoveries made in 2009 and 2010, but I changed my topic to one of the conservation of archaeological sites in Upper Tibet. This is needless to say an extremely urgent and important matter. I reproduce the first paragraph of my paper below:

For 20 years, I have been documenting the pre-Buddhist archaeological resources of Upper Tibet, the vast part of the Tibetan plateau north of the Transhimalaya and west of Central Tibet. This reconnaissance work was carried as part of efforts to elucidate Iron Age (700–100 BCE), protohistoric (100 BCE–650 CE) and early historic (650–1000 CE) civilization in highland Tibet. Through yearly field surveys of early monumental remains in Upper Tibet, it has become evident that manmade threats to archaeological sites have grown alarmingly in recent years. These pressures on what remains of Upper Tibet’s ancient material cultural legacy have four major causes: 1) the robbing of tombs in order to recover marketable artifacts, 2) the pilferage of stones for use in domestic building projects, 3) state-sponsored development projects, and 4) vandalism.

I also gave a presentation on the second evening of the conference. This one introduced the participants to the Antiquities of Zhang Zhung website (thlib.org/bellezza), which was published in July of this year. It would be helpful if other archaeological surveys in Tibet are also systematically compiled and made freely available on the worldwide web.

I also spoke about the need in academic writing for Tibetan place names and other Tibetan proper nouns to be rendered in a phonetic and/or transliterated Tibetan form. As it now stands, most Sinicized toponyms used in Chinese publications are unrecognizable to Tibetans, complicating efforts to identify them. Moreover, as the Tibetan plateau has been traditionally inhabited by Tibetans for thousands of years, using their place names recognizes their tenure and cultural identity. Finally, there is often something in an authentic name; it may encapsulate historical or mythological information pertinent to the site to which it is attached.

Fig. 13. Yours truly delivering his presentation. Photo courtesy of the official conference photographers

Fig. 14. A new retaining wall and parapet wall at Chiu Khar (Byi’u-mkhar). This structure has obliterated the remains of ramparts that belonged to an ancient castle at Byi’u. For more information on this site, see thlib.org/bellezza

Next month: Remarkable archaeological discoveries announced at the International Conference on the Prehistory of the Tibetan Plateau!

Antiquities of Zhang Zhung is published
After three years of technical development, I am very pleased to announce the publication of Antiquities of Zhang Zhung. This two-volume online publication from the Tibetan & Himalayan Library (based at the University of Virginia) is available free of charge at: thlib.org/bellezza. Featuring over 400 archaic archaeological sites surveyed in Upper Tibet between 2001 and 2008, this gazetteer provides systematic descriptions of each site, photographs, static maps, and glossaries, etc. This is a state-of-the-art website with many great features such as interactive maps, the ability to view Tibetan names in phonetics or in transliteration, image search functions, and print-out formats. Publishing such a large work (more than 400,000 words) online is an experiment. Do let me know what you think about it. Is the internet really the wave of the future for scholarship? I, for one, hope that in addition to the worldwide web, books will continue to be published, not least of all because they may prove more long lasting.  

The estates of the ancients: Residential sites surveyed around Lake Dangra
In this 61^st Flight of the Khyung we shall take a look at archaic residential structures discovered around Dangra Yumtsho on the Changthang Circuit Expedition (CCE), in 1999. These habitations appear to have primarily housed the ancient religious elite of the region, the priests known as bonpo and shen. Historical and typological indications suggest that the majority of these sites were established prior to the 7^th century CE, but some may have been actively used in the early historic period (650–1000 CE). Small bands of ascetics may also have exploited them at a later date; nevertheless, the zenith of settlement in the region occurred in the prehistoric epoch.

The buildings shown below belong to the archaic culture heritage of Upper Tibet, a small piece of its vast monumental holdings. The color images in this newsletter were published in black & white in Antiquities of Northern Tibet (as well as one photo from Antiquities of Upper Tibet). I think you will agree that they look much better in color. With 12 more years of exploration and research under my belt, the descriptions that follow speak of what I have learnt is most significant.

Fig. 1. The lower complex (21 m x 7 m) of one of the archaic temple complexes found along the shores of Lake Dangra. At this site there is a similarly built upper complex as well. In the upper right hand corner of the photograph, the sacred lake of the goddess Dangra Lekyi Wangmo is visible

This temple (sekhar) ruin is situated 400 m above Dangra Yumtsho, higher than any contemporary settlement on the lakeshore. According to the oral tradition collected from highly respected elders of the region (most of which have since passed away), this structure was a Zhang Zhung religious center. The location of the site well away from the agrarian communities of the lake and the elaborate all-stone corbelled construction of the edifice does seem to corroborate this identification. This multi-roomed structure was built at least 2 m into the rear slope, giving it a semi-subterranean aspect. Stone roof appurtenances still teeter on the walls of the more than one dozen rooms of the structure. The small size of these rooms (the largest measures 4 m x 2.5 m) demonstrates that, like many of its temple counterparts, this building did not host large gatherings within its walls. Therefore, we might surmise that it was given over to more contemplative religious practices. This building potentially sheltered many people, thus function as a domestic space for family use may also be indicated. According to the texts of the Bon religion, many early masters were laypeople with wives and families. The proliferation of small rooms seems amenable to such scenario. If so, esoteric religious observances and the mundane demands of family life may have existed side by side.

Fig. 2. This group of ruined all-stone corbelled buildings is one of several complexes belonging to another archaic residential installation at Lake Dangra

This complex extends for 19 m and was split in three levels. In its time this aggregation of edifices must have had an impressive profile. Like most other archaic sites around Dangra Yumtsho, this example is attributed in the oral tradition to Zhang Zhung, a kingdom that has attained mythic status in Bon. The term Zhang Zhung has come to embrace the ethnic, linguistic, cultural, and political dimensions of ancient civilization in Upper Tibet. However the pre-Buddhist residents of the region referred to themselves, thousands of well-built buildings, such as the ones pictured above, indicate that the Upper Tibetans had indeed attained a formidable level of technological and cultural advancement. In the vicinity of this site are defunct agricultural fields, vestiges of a sedentary culture that was once far more developed than in recent centuries.

Fig. 3. A rebuilt all-stone corbelled two-story temple

According to the monks of Dangchung monastery this structure was originally a Zhang Zhung era temple, which was rebuilt by one of four Nyingma lamas known by the epithet Trowo (Khro-bo). These lamas lived between the early 15^th century and the late 17^th century CE. This Buddhist retreat center was almost leveled in the Chinese Cultural Revolution, but was rebuilt in a more rudimentary manner by the 17^th titular head of Dangchung monastery (died in 1998). Earlier, circa the 11^th century CE, a Bon text records that a Dzokchen master named Yungdrung Rinchen mediated at this location. He may have sheltered in one of the caves found in the escarpment below the site. These caves were once part of an extensive troglodytic settlement, as evidenced in a series of masonry façades and other lithic appointments. This cave town is traced back to Zhang Zhung by local residents and may have formed the original locus of settlement at Dangchung. Sometime after Yungdrung Rinchen’s tenure the entire locale devolved to the Buddhists.

Structural extensions are found on both the north and east sides of the current building, probably indicating that the original structure was significantly larger. The Buddhist hermitage consists of three small rooms laid out in a U-shaped pattern, which are set atop the old foundations. These rooms function as a sleeping space, kitchen and living quarters. The design of these modern additions was strongly influenced by the old building plan, as revealed in the small size and alignment of the rooms and the rounded walls. It is in the basement that the ancient architectural credentials of the building can be seen. It is comprised of two small, fire-blackened, semi-subterranean chambers oriented in the cardinal directions. The partition dividing the two chambers is a load-bearing wall for the all-stone corbelled superstructure above it.  On a rock outcrop looming over the Buddhist retreat are the remains of an archaic fortification.

Fig. 4. A partial view of a village at Lake Dangra thought to have been abandoned centuries ago

It is believed that this once populous settlement collapsed due to a lack of water. Covering some 1800 m in a dense agglomeration of houses, perhaps two hundred or more people once lived here. The houses of this erstwhile population center were built in various ways, suggesting that it may have developed in various stages over a substantial period of time. According to the oral tradition of the region, this village was founded in ancient times and became deserted hundreds of years ago due to a lack of water. The watercourse that lies below the site is now often dry even in the summer rainy season. At one time an irrigation systems built around it must have watered the extensive fields of the defunct village. Dwindling water supplies threaten all the remaining agricultural villages of Lake Dangra. In this highly marginal physical environment the problem is particularly acute but wider parallels can be drawn to many other regions of Tibet and beyond.

Fig. 5. A view of a few ruined structures at what was once an extensive residential hub at Lake Dangra

According to what senior residents of the region told me back in the 1990s, this was a Zhang Zhung religious precinct of great importance. A portion of the uppermost of three sites is shown here. This site is clustered around a bright orange limestone escarpment and consists of over two dozen free-standing structures as well as a number cave shelters. At least some of these domiciles had all-stone corbelled roofs and most caves were modified with façades and antechambers.

Fig. 6. Two ruined structures at another ancient cave temple of the Lake Dangra region

This site is located in what is now a Buddhist area and much of its old history has disappeared. The Bonpo are more inclined to retain or recreate tales of the prehistoric past than are Buddhist residents. For the Bonpo the distant past amounts to halcyon days. There is some validity in this belief, in that the extent of sedentary occupation in Upper Tibet was far greater in the Iron Age and protohistoric period than in pre-modern times. Most of the monumental architecture of the Changthang dates to a time before Buddhism came to dominate the religious complexion of this vast region.

Fig. 7. A portion of a three-story façade built around a cave at another troglodytic settlement of Lake Dangra

In the oral tradition, this large site with its dozens of buildings and caves is associated with an incursion or colonization of the region by Central Asians. Referred to in the region generically as Sokpo, this does not necessarily denote the Sogdians with which the imperial period Tibetans had dealings.  In the vernacular, this term may also refer to other ancient Inner Asian peoples.

Fig. 8. The giant cave and associated manmade structures known as White Fortress (Rdzong dkar-po)

The massive ruined façade that once enclosed the cave is 24 m in length and the cave itself is more than 10 m deep. This hidden and hard to access site is said to have been where the Zhang Zhung master Takla Member (Stag-lha me-’bar) meditated. Whether this is a historical fact or not, the sheer size of the cave and residential structures associated with it, indicate that White Fortress was once much more than the haunts of a single ascetic.

Fig. 9. A modern day cave temple at Mamik monastery in the western Changthang

This Nyingma monastery follows in the footsteps of the great cave temples of Zhang Zhung. Even with the Buddhacization of Upper Tibet, her religious leaders were still attracted to caves for the foundation of their monasteries. These caves were imbued with a sacred aura and provided secure shelter in a region with one of the fiercest climates in the world. A number of Upper Tibetan Buddhist monasteries were established on the site of archaic religious installations. However, the vast majority of early residential sites were never reoccupied. Some of these locations were simply too high and remote for historic era settlement. These forsaken places are now only pieces in an archaeological puzzle that I have spent a working lifetime trying to put back together.

The Changthang Circuit Expedition:  A retrospective from my journals

July 20, 1999
The 40^th day of the Changthang Circuit Expedition. Finally after 13 years, I learned the name of the lake (Sgyu-ma’i mtsho) I traversed in 1986. Thus far on the expedition I have completed about 3500 km of travel and have written 170 pages of journal entries. We remained in Yakra until midday – I had to catch up on my writing and pursue questions I still had. When we did leave, we headed northeast and then along the Wamo (Fox) valley. Our destination was Ngangla Ringtsho but we only got as far as the settlement of Khangpa Kargok, which is in Marmik, Gerste county. Traditionally, this area was part of the Trokpa region of Sekhor. We made camp in a meadow along the waterfront. The only residents in the settlement appear to be a 65-year old ngakpa and his grandson. The rest of the community is in summer pastures to the north. With few sources to draw from there is little research to do. The Wamo valley has extensive swampy pastures and I wonder why it is not more densely populated. I tried to get information on nearby Ngangla Ringtsho from some passing yak herders but learned little. Yes, there is a large island called Tsho Do which is accessible in the winter and which is supposed to have some ancient ruins. We were informed that on the north side of the Wamo valley, at a place called Nyima Dong, there are stone pillars, but a 22 km roundtrip excursion only turned up naturally occurring boulders and one upright stone of indeterminate [archaeological] age. West of Khangpa Kargok, along the route we came in on, there are supposed to be a few ancient ruins near Lhamo Dungkhyer (Spear Carrying Goddess), a black mountain extending deep into the Wamo valley. This evening the ngakpa took me into his little chapel. He managed to save some old religious articles by burying them for a period of 16 years. The pace of activity slowed considerably this afternoon, not a bad contrast from populous Yakra. We discussed continuing to Marmik but it has been decided that we will return to Shungpa. I hope to make a few stops en route. There is still so much to see and explore on this expedition!

October 8, 1999
We got underway this morning none too early but this trend suits me, especially when I have a lot of writing to do. Heading north along the improved road we reached the settlement of Sharsha. In the part of the settlement called Doring there is indeed a standing stone. This stele is 105 cm tall, 22 cm wide and 18 cm thick at the base. This inclined and heavily worn pillar was carefully shaped. It is located in plain view of the meridian range beside the two houses of Doring. It is said by a senior resident to be very old but he could offer no further information… From Sharsha we travesed a pass called Draksharra La, which provides a more direct route to Marmik Gonpa. We made the monastery in the late afternoon. This Nyingma institution is situated east of Marmik Tshamtsho in a rugged side valley. The head of the monastery is 72-year old Ngawang Loedro, the seventh in the monastery’s lineage. The lama has left to conduct prayer services but I found those left behind cooperative and interested in my work. I will describe the monastery tomorrow as we will be here for a day. The red outlier called Gob, an important territorial deity of Marmik, belongs to the tsen and, according to one of my best informants, Gob may be mounted on a brown bear (of which there are still a few in the meridian range). His mate is a white outlier in the meridian range west of Sharsha named Mapayu. They are said to have a child, a mountain east of Sharsha called Budum Dakri. I will now list the main mountains and valleys from Ka La to Mamik Tshakka…

November 2, 1999
Takrong (Stag-rong) is a Bonpo place of pilgrimage according to a number of people I have spoken to in the region. Apparently, it has never assumed a Buddhist identity or been appropriated by it. I think this must be one of the reasons that Lopon Tenzin Namdak [Bon’s seniormost scholar] and Menri Khenpo [the head of the Bon religion] place Takrong in such a prominent position. There are few sites in the old Zhang Zhung homeland that the Bonpo still control. According to a local man I spoke to, Takrong has a reputation of being hard hit with snow. Takrong (in ancient times called Walrong / Dbal-rong) is situated about 10 km upstream from where the Takrong Tsangpo debouches into a plain south of the Transhimalya range. The site is found on the left bank of the river. First the trail follows the river’s edge but during the second half of the walk it climbs above a gorge that forms around the watercourse. Just below the sacred hot springs there is a single drokpa zhima (gzhi-ma); the people here still permanently residing in a tent. Takrong is an area of extensive geothermal activity. Mineral aggregations have formed numerous pillars and outcrops, 18 of which are called Drekpa Chogye (Dregs-pa bco-brgyad) in Bon. According to my prime informant these are locally called Phonya Drepo Chogye (Pho-nya ’dre-po bco-brgyad), each with its own identity. This circle of spirits is ruled by the nedak (gnas-bdag) of Takrong…