Ibex Stalking in Ladakh. 
The Logi La Pass from Kashmir into. Bal- 
tistan is a formidable and much dreaded obstacle 
in early spring. Its liability to sudden over¬ 
whelming avalanches and furious death-dealing 
winds has gained for it a grim notoriety which 
causes it to be attempted with caution and in 
suitable weather only. A chance of crossing 
neglected may mean a delay of many precious 
days, and it is usual to move up to Baltal, the 
rest house at the western foot, and to wait there 
to seize the first favorable opportunity of pass¬ 
ing over. This preamble is to explain the fact 
that one early spring some years ago I found 
myself at Kargil, the nearest town to the east 
of Logi La, with two weeks to pass before my 
permit allowed me to move on to Ladakh. 
We had had considerable difficulty in getting 
through, and a heavy fall of snow had upset 
our plan of trying for ibex before reaching 
Kargil. After many consultations we decided to 
cross a pass ten miles north of Kargil. descend 
into the Indus valley, and hunt up it toward 
Ladakh, hoping to bag at least one good 
ibex in the many nullahs which lie on 
either bank. 
We were singularly unsuccessful in even see¬ 
ing good ibex, though we boiled day after day 
over snow-covered slopes that from a distance 
looked perfectly impassable, and on closer ac¬ 
quaintance were as unpleasant as could be im¬ 
agined. On occasions we came across small 
bucks, but even of these there were very few, 
and there seemed to be not a shootable head in 
the whole country. When we first began look¬ 
ing for ibex I was not particularly enthusiastic, 
as I had previously brought them to bag and was 
after other game, but failure increased our zest, 
and at last we determined to find and shoot a 
good buck if we had to search every nullah 
draining into the river. I had heard from a 
friend who had hunted there the year before 
that the Indus valley was shot out, but had 
yielded to the importunities of my shikari, whose 
depression as we drew nullah after nullah blank 
became funereal. 
At last the day came when we were to be 
rewarded for our trouble, though at first it 
seemed even more unpromising than its fore¬ 
runners. We had arrived over night at a Bhud- 
dist village snuggling against cliff's flanking the 
mouth of a long narrow valley running far into 
the mountains. The head man said that with¬ 
out doubt there were long-horned ibex in the 
nullah, but as by way of encouragement he pro¬ 
ceeded to measure off imaginary horns that 
would have put the record completely in the 
shade we viewed his statements with a certain 
amount of skepticism. 
Shortly before 6 a. m. we got under way, and 
as soon as the mists, which were swirling down 
the valley, showed symptoms of lifting, we made 
a start up hill, reaching a zone of bright sun¬ 
shine in an hour’s time. At eleven we halted 
at a point from which two branches of the nul¬ 
lah ran up to the north and northeast respec¬ 
tively. A careful search through the telescope 
eventually revealed a couple of doe ibex on a 
rocky crest to the east, but there was no buck 
with them, and so we moved on up the northern 
branch of the nullah. 
At noon we again halted, this time by a de¬ 
serted snow-broken hut, and made out ten bucks 
and fifteen does feeding by some snow high up 
on the eastern slope of the valley. Two of the 
bucks seemed to carry good heads, particularly 
one which was very dark colored, but for the 
moment there was nothing to be done, as the 
animals were quite unstalkable. At 1130 they all 
lay down among the rocks where, with the ex¬ 
ception of a watchful doe or two, they were 
invisible, and we took the opportunity of eating 
a meal which would in all probability be our last 
for many hours. 
After a couple of hours’ siesta the ibex re¬ 
appeared and to our delight moved up to and 
over a ridge leading into the other branch of 
the valley. We gave them time to return if 
they were going to do so and then started up 
hill at our best pace on their tracks. The only 
possible route on the mountainside was up a 
water course in which lay soft snow on a bed 
of loose earth and shale. No one who has not 
experienced it can realize the labor that such 
ground entails, or the unpleasant sensation of 
slipping down hill for a few yards whenever 
a particularly “greasy” spot is trodden on. By 
hugging the rocks at the side of the watercourse 
as closely as possible we succeeded after three- 
quarters of an hour in reaching the crest of the 
mountain some yards to the north of two large 
rocks between which the ibex had passed. 
Getting the rifle ready for action we flound¬ 
ered along up to our thighs in snow, and cau¬ 
tiously peeping over into the northeast branch 
of the valley, found not an animal in sight. Be¬ 
low us a steep shaly watercourse with high 
snow-covered rocks on either side ran down 
some 200 yards before it merged into the barren 
mountain slopes. It was itself quite free, from 
snow and the tracks of the ibex were plainly 
imprinted on the sodden ground. 
It was very difficult to go down hill quietly, as 
any but slow and deliberate movements sent a 
shower of shale and stones clattering away to 
the valley. We moved in a sitting position care¬ 
fully reconnoitering each hand or foothold be¬ 
fore using it. We had hardly started when we 
saw a small buck pass around the rocks to the 
north of and some 150 feet below us, while a 
moment later we “froze” on hearing falling 
stones to our left. It was well that we did so, 
for another small-horned buck emerged from a 
cleft in the rocks and stood staring at us at a 
distance of seventy feet. There are few finer 
sights than an ibex in his native wilds, and we 
spent an anxious but enjoyable minute under the 
suspicious scrutiny. When he had moved quietly 
out of sight we re-started our crawl, but had 
gained only about twenty feet when two more 
bucks appeared from the same quarter and the 
same performance was repeated at some length 
before they, too, apparently satisfied that we 
were an unusual but harmless phenomenon, dis¬ 
appeared to the south. 
A couple of minutes later I nearly trod on a 
snowcock which flew off with loud calls of alarm 
and put the ibex on the qui vive. A young buck 
that appeared on some rocks to our right was 
very suspicious and the process of taking the 
rifle from the shikari, who had been carrying it, 
was a protracted one, as the animal kept on 
looking round sharply, and whenever he did so 
we had to remain motionless in whatever posi¬ 
tion we happened to be in. He at last moved 
out of sight, and it was difficult to decide what 
to do, for the position of the big-horned bucks 
was unknown. We decided eventually to rush 
across to the northern side and trust to getting 
shots at the animals as they climbed the difficult 
rocks above us. It was a risky plan, but there 
was no alternative, and it succeeded. 
As we gained the rocks we saw a small buck 
above us on our right and a buck and doe be¬ 
low us. These gave the alarm, and the whole 
herd started up hill. The majority had been be¬ 
low our level, and I covered them in succession 
as they slowly passed us before firing at the 
best of the four which stood for a moment with 
heads and the upper parts of their chests visible 
over a snow ridge looking at us. He dropped 
dead and out of sight, while the others bolted. 
Though there was now a great clattering as 
loosened stones and snow began to shoot down 
the mountainside, the ibex were invisible until 
they reached a ledge of snow-covered rock some 
170 feet above us. I was in a very bad position 
for a shot with no support for the arms, and a 
most precarious seat on shale, which slipped on 
the slightest provocation. 
A light colored buck first showed up against 
the skyline and a hurried shot missed him. He 
was succeeded first by two bucks with indifferent 
horns, which I left alone, and then by the dark 
animal that I had before noticed. To my shot 
he staggered a couple of paces and then fell and 
lay kicking for a moment on the ledge before 
he slid to its edge and crashed down the rocks 
to our level. The remainder of the herd climbed 
slowly out of sight, while we made our way to 
the animals which had fallen. They were both 
quite dead, but neither carried as good horns 
as we had thought, while those of the second 
had been badly broken in falling. We cut off 
the heads as quickly as possible and hurried 
down hill in order not to be belated on the 
mountainside, but we only reached a track in 
the bed of the nullah at 7:15. 
It was pitch dark; there was no track once 
we got away from the snow through which we 
slipped for a mile; our grass shoes were in 
shreds; we had no food and were five miles 
from camp. But we scrambled on over rocks 
and stones, and how we, the rifle and telescope 
escaped serious damage was a marvel. At about 
10 o’clock one of our men met us with a lamp 
and we reached the tents at 11 o’clock, bruised 
and utterly played out, but satisfied at having 
ended what at one time seemed an almost hope¬ 
less quest. W. R. Gilbert. 
