Return from Wallanchoon pass—Procure a bazaar at village—Dance of
Lamas—Blacking face, Tibetan custom of—Temple and convent—Leave for
Kanglachem pass—Send part of party back to Dorjiling—Yangma
Guola—Drunken Tibetans—Guobah of Wallanchoon—Camp at foot of Great
Moraine—View from top—Geological speculations—Height of moraines—Cross
dry lake-bed—Glaciers—More moraines—Terraces—Yangma temples—Jos, books
and furniture—Peak of Nango—Lake—Arrive at
village—Cultivation—Scenery—Potatos—State of my provisions—Pass through
village—Gigantic boulders Terraces—Wild sheep—Lake-beds—Sun’s
power—Piles of gravel and detritus—Glaciers and moraines—Pabuk,
elevation of—Moonlight scene—Return to Yangma—Temperature,
etc.—Geological causes of phenomena in valley—Scenery of valley on
descent.
I returned to the village of Wallanchoon, after collecting all the
plants I could around my camp; amongst them a common-looking dock
abounded in the spots which the yaks had frequented.
The ground was covered, as with heather, with abundance of creeping
dwarf juniper, _Andromeda,_ and dwarf rhododendron. On arriving at the
village, I refused to receive the Guobah, unless he opened a bazaar at
daylight on the following morning, where my people might purchase food;
and threatened to bring charges against him before his Rajah. At the
same time I arranged for sending the main body of my party down the
Tambur, and so back to Sikkim, whilst I should, with as few as
possible, visit the Kanglachem (Tibetan) pass in the adjacent valley to
the eastward, and then, crossing the Nango, Kambachen and Kanglanamo
passes, reach Jongri in Sikkim, on the south flank of Kinchinjunga.
Strolling out in the afternoon I saw a dance of Lamas; they were
disfigured with black paint[77] and covered with rags, feathers, and
scarlet cloth, and they carried long poles with bells and banners
attached; thus equipped, they marched through the village, every now
and then halting, when they danced and gesticulated to the rude music
of cymbals and horns, the bystanders applauding with shouts, crackers,
and alms.
[77] I shall elsewhere have to refer to the Tibetan custom of daubing
the face with black pigment to protect the skin from the excessive
cold and dryness of these lofty regions; and to the ludicrous
imposition that was passed on the credulity of MM. Huc and Gabet.
I walked up to the convents, which were long ugly buildings, several
stories high, built of wood, and daubed with red and grey paint. The
priests were nowhere to be found, and an old withered nun, whom I
disturbed husking millet in a large wooden mortar, fled at my approach.
The temple stood close by the convent, and had a broad low architrave:
the walls sloped inwards, as did the lintels: the doors were black, and
almost covered with a gigantic and disproportioned painting of a head,
with bloody cheeks and huge teeth; it was surrounded by myriads of
goggle eyes, which seemed to follow one about everywhere; and though in
every respect rude, the effect was somewhat imposing. The similarly
proportioned gloomy portals of Egyptian fanes naturally invite
comparison; but the Tibetan temples lack the sublimity of these; and
the uncomfortable creeping sensation produced by the many sleepless
eyes of Boodh’s numerous incarnations is very different from the awe
with which we contemplate the outspread wings of the Egyptian symbol,
and feel as in the presence of the God who says, “I am Osiris the
Great: no man hath dared to lift my veil.”
I had ascended behind the village, but returned down the “via sacra,” a
steep paved path flanked by mendongs or low stone dykes, into which
were let rows of stone slabs, inscribed with the sacred “Om Mani Padmi
om.”—“Hail to him of the lotus and jewel”; an invocation of Sakkya, who
is usually represented holding a lotus flower with a jewel in it.
On the following morning, a scanty supply of vcry dirty rice was
produced, at a very high price. I had, however, so divided my party as
not to require a great amount of food, intending to send most of the
people back by the Tambur to Dorjiling. I kept nineteen persons in all,
selecting the most willing, as it was evident the journey at this
season would be one of great hardship: we took seven days’ food, which
was as much as they could carry. At noon, I left Wallanchoon, and
mustered my party at the junction of the Tambur and Yangma, whence I
dismissed the party for Dorjiling, with my collections of plants,
minerals, etc., and proceeded with the chosen ones to ascend the Yangma
river. The scenery was wild and very grand, our path lying through a
narrow gorge, choked with pine trees, down which the river roared in a
furious torrent; while the mountains on each side were crested with
castellated masses of rock, and sprinkled with snow. The road was very
bad, often up ladders, and along planks lashed to the faces of
precipices, and over-hanging the torrent, which it crossed several
times by plank bridges. By dark we arrived at Yangma Guola, a
collection of empty wood huts buried in the rocky forest-clad valley,
and took possession of a couple. They were well built, raised on posts,
with a stage and ladder at the gable end, and consisted of one
good-sized apartment. Around was abundance of dock, together with three
common English plants.[78]
[78] _Cardamine hirsuta, Limosella aquatica,_ and _Juncus bufonius._
The night was calm, misty, and warm (Max. 41·5°, Min. 29°) for the
elevation (9,300 feet). During the night, I was startled out of my
sleep by a blaze of light, and jumping up, found myself in presence of
a party of most sinister-looking, black, ragged Tibetans, armed with
huge torches of pine, that filled the room with flame and pitchy smoke.
I remembered their arriving just before dark, and their weapons
dispelled my fears, for they came armed with bamboo jugs of Murwa beer,
and were very drunk and very amiable: they grinned, nodded, kotowed,
lolled out their tongues, and scratched their ears in the most
seductive manner, then held out their jugs, and besought me by words
and gestures to drink and be happy too. I awoke my servant (always a
work of difficulty), and with some trouble ejected the visitors,
happily without setting the house on fire. I heard them toppling head
over heels down the stair, which I afterwards had drawn up to prevent
further intrusion, and in spite of their drunken orgies, was soon
lulled to sleep again by the music of the roaring river.
On the 29th November, I continued my course north up the Yangma valley,
which after five miles opened considerably, the trees disappearing, and
the river flowing more tranquilly, and through a broader valley, when
above 11,000 feet elevation. The Guobah of Wallanchoon overtook us on
the road; on his way, he said, to collect the revenues at Yangma
village, but in reality to see what I was about. He owns five
considerable villages, and is said to pay a tax of 6000 rupees (600
pounds) to the Rajah of Nepal: this is no doubt a great exaggeration,
but the revenues of such a position, near a pass frequented almost
throughout the year, must be considerable. Every yak going and coming
is said to pay l_s_., and every horse 4_s_.; cattle, sheep, ponies,
land, and wool are all taxed; he exports also quantities of timber to
Tibet, and various articles from the plains of India. He joined my
party and halted where I did, had his little Chinese rug spread, and
squatted cross-legged on it, whilst his servant prepared his brick tea
with salt, butter, and soda, of which he partook, snuffed, smoked, rose
up, had all his traps repacked, and was off again.
We encamped at a most remarkable place: the valley was broad, with
little vegetation but stunted tree-junipers: rocky snow-topped
mountains rose on either side, bleak, bare, and rugged; and in front,
close above my tent, was a gigantic wall of rocks, piled—as if by the
Titans—completely across the valley, for about three-quarters of a
mile. This striking phenomenon had excited all my curiosity on first
obtaining a view of it. The path, I found, led over it, close under its
west end, and wound amongst the enormous detached fragments of which it
was formed, and which were often eighty feet square: all were of gneiss
and schist, with abundance of granite in blocks and veins. A superb
view opened from the top, revealing its nature to be a vast moraine,
far below the influence of any existing glaciers, but which at some
antecedent period had been thrown across by a glacier descending to
10,000 feet, from a lateral valley on the east flank. Standing on the
top, and looking south, was the Yangma valley (up which I had come),
gradually contracting to a defile, girdled by snow-tipped mountains,
whose rocky flanks mingled with the black pine forest below. Eastward
the moraine stretched south of the lateral valley, above which towered
the snowy peak of Nango, tinged rosy red, and sparkling in the rays of
the setting sun: blue glaciers peeped from every gulley on its side,
but these were 2000 to 3000 feet above this moraine; they were small
too, and their moraines were mere gravel, compared with this. Many
smaller consecutive moraines, also, were evident along the bottom of
that lateral valley, from this great one up to the existing glaciers.
Looking up the Yangma was a flat grassy plain, hemmed in by mountains,
and covered with other stupendous moraines, which rose ridge behind
ridge, and cut off the view of all but the mountain tops to the north.
The river meandered through the grassy plain (which appeared a mile and
a half broad at the utmost, and perhaps as long), and cut through the
great moraine on its eastern side, just below the junction of the
stream from the glacial valley, which, at the lower part of its course,
flowed over a broad steep shingle bed.
[Illustration: Ancient Moraine thrown across the Yangma Valley, East
Nepal]
I descended to my camp, full of anxious anticipations for the morrow;
while the novelty of the scene, and its striking character, the
complexity of the phenomena, the lake-bed, the stupendous ice-deposited
moraine, and its remoteness from any existing ice, the broad valley and
open character of the country, were all marked out as so many problems
suddenly conjured up for my unaided solution, and kept me awake for
many hours. I had never seen a glacier or moraine on land before, but
being familiar with sea ice and berg transport, from voyaging in the
South Polar regions, I was strongly inclined to attribute the formation
of this moraine to a period when a glacial ocean stood high on the
Himalaya, made fiords of the valleys, and floated bergs laden with
blocks from the lateral gulleys, which the winds and currents would
deposit along certain lines. On the following morning I carried a
barometer to the top of the moraine, which proved to be upwards of 700
feet above the floor of the valley, and 400 above the dry lake-bed
which it bounded, and to which we descended on our route up the valley.
The latter was grassy and pebbly, perfectly level, and quite barren,
except a very few pines at the bases of the encircling mountains, and
abundance of rhododendrons, _Andromeda_ and juniper on the moraines.
Isolated moraines occurred along both flanks of the valley, some higher
than that I have described, and a very long one was thrown nearly
across from the upper end of another lateral gulley on the east side,
also leading up to the glaciers of Nango. This second moraine commenced
a mile and a half above the first, and abutting on the east flank of
the valley, stretched nearly across, and then curving round, ran down
it, parallel to and near the west flank, from which it was separated by
the Yangma river: it was abruptly terminated by a conical hill of
boulders, round whose base the river flowed, entering the dry lake-bed
from the west, and crossing it in a south-easterly direction to the
western extremity of the great moraine.
The road, on its ascent to the second moraine, passed over an immense
accumulation of glacial detritus at the mouth of the second lateral
valley, entirely formed of angular fragments of gneiss and granite,
loosely bound together by felspathic sand. The whole was disposed in
concentric ridges radiating from the mouth of the valley, and
descending to the flat; these were moraines _in petto,_ formed by the
action of winter snow and ice upon the loose débris. A stream flowed
over this débris, dividing into branches before reaching the lake-bed,
where its waters were collected, and whence it meandered southward to
fall into the Yangma.
[Illustration: Ancient moraines in the Yangma Valley]
From the top of the second moraine, a very curious scene opened up the
valley, of another but more stony and desolate level lake-bed, through
which the Yangma (here very rapid) rushed, cutting a channel about
sixty feet deep; the flanks of this second lake-bed were cut most
distinctly into two principal terraces, which were again subdivided
into others, so that the general appearance was that of many raised
beaches, but each so broken up, that, with the exception of one on the
banks of the river, none were continuous for any distance. We descended
200 feet, and crossed the valley and river obliquely in a north-west
direction, to a small temple and convent which stood on a broad flat
terrace under the black, precipitous, west flank: this gave me a good
opportunity of examining the structure of this part of the valley,
which was filled with an accumulation, probably 200 feet thick at the
deepest part, of angular gravel and enormous boulders, both imbedded in
the gravel, and strewed on the flat surfaces of the terraces. The
latter were always broadest opposite to the lateral valleys, perfectly
horizontal for the short distance that they were continuous; and very
barren; there were no traces of fossils, nor could I assure myself of
stratification. The accumulation was wholly glacial; and probably a
lake had supervened on the melting of the great glacier and its
recedence, which lake, confined by a frozen moraine, would periodically
lose its waters by sudden accessions of heat melting the ice of the
latter. Stratified silt, no doubt, once covered the lake bottom, and
the terraces have, in succession, been denuded of it by rain and snow.
These causes are now in operation amongst the stupendous glaciers of
north-east Sikkim, where valleys, dammed up by moraines, exhibit lakes
hemmed in between these, the base of the glacier, and the flanks of the
valleys.
Yangma convents stood at the mouth of a gorge which opened upon the
uppermost terrace; and the surface of the latter, here well covered
with grass, was furrowed into concentric radiating ridges, which were
very conspicuous from a distance. The buildings consisted of a wretched
collection of stone huts, painted red, enclosed by loose stone dykes.
Two shockingly dirty Lamas received me and conducted me to the temple,
which had very thick walls, but was undistinguishable from the other
buildings. A small door opened upon an apartment piled full of old
battered gongs, drums, scraps of silk hangings, red cloth, broken
praying-machines—relics much resembling those in the lumber-room of a
theatre. A ladder led from this dismal hole to the upper story, which
was entered by a handsomely carved and gilded door: within, all was
dark, except from a little lattice-window covered with oil-paper. On
one side was the library, a carved case, with a hundred gilded
pigeon-holes, each holding a real or sham book, and each closed by a
little square door, on which hung a bag full of amulets. In the centre
of the book-case was a recess, containing a genuine Jos or Fo, graced
with his Chinese attribute of very long pendulous moustaches and beard,
and totally wanting that air of contemplative repose which the Tibetan
Lamas give to their idols. Banners were suspended around, with
paintings of Lhassa, Teshoo Loombo, and various incarnations of Boodh.
The books were of the usual Tibetan form, oblong squares of separate
block-printed leaves of paper, made in Nepal or Bhotan from the bark of
a _Daphne,_ bound together by silk cords, and placed between ornamented
wooden boards. On our way up the valley, we had passed some mendongs
and chaits, the latter very pretty stone structures, consisting of a
cube, pyramid, hemisphere, and cone placed on the top of one another,
forming together the tasteful combination which appears on the cover of
these volumes.
Beyond the convents the valley again contracted, and on crossing a
third, but much lower, moraine, a lake opened to view, surrounded by
flat terraces, and a broad gravelly shore, part of the lake being dry.
To the west, the cliffs were high, black and steep: to the east a large
lateral valley, filled at about 1500 feet up with blue glaciers, led
(as did the other lateral valleys) to the gleaming snows of Nango; the
moraine, too, here abutted on the east flank of the Yangma valley,
below the mouth of the lateral one. Much snow (from the October fall)
lay on the ground, and the cold was pinching in the shade; still I
could not help attempting to sketch this wonderfully grand scene,
especially as lakes in the Himalaya are extremely rare: the present one
was about a mile long, very shallow, but broad, and as smooth as glass:
it reminded me of the tarn in Glencoe. The reflected lofty peak of
Nango appeared as if frozen deep down in its glassy bed, every snowy
crest and ridge being rendered with perfect precision.
[Illustration: Looking across Yangma Valley]
Nango is about 18,000 feet high; it is the next lofty mountain of the
Kinchinjunga group to the west of Junnoo, and I doubt if any equally
high peak occurs again for some distance further west in Nepal. Facing
the Yangma valley, it presents a beautiful range of precipices of black
rock, capped with a thick crust of snow: below the cliffs the snow
again appears continuously and very steep, for 2000 to 3000 feet
downwards, where it terminates in glaciers that descend to 14,000 feet.
The steepest snow-beds appear cut into vertical ridges, whence the
whole snowy face is—as it were—crimped in perpendicular, closely-set,
zigzag lines, doubtless caused by the melting process, which furrows
the surface of the snow into channels by which the water is carried
off: the effect is very beautiful, but impossible to represent on
paper, from the extreme delicacy of the shadows, and at the same time
the perfect definition and precision of the outlines.
Towards the head of the lake, its bed was quite dry and gravelly, and
the river formed a broad delta over it: the terraces here were perhaps
100 feet above its level, those at the lower end not nearly so much.
Beyond the lake, the river became again a violent torrent, rushing in a
deep chasm, till we arrived at the fork of the valley, where we once
more met with numerous dry lake-beds, with terraces high up on the
mountain sides.
In the afternoon we reached the village of Yangma, a miserable
collection of 200 to 300 stone huts, nestling under the steep
south-east flank of a lofty, flat-topped terrace, laden with gigantic
glacial boulders, and projecting southward from a snowy mountain which
divides the valley. We encamped on the flat under the village, amongst
some stone dykes, enclosing cultivated fields. One arm of the valley
runs hence N.N.E. amongst snowy mountains, and appeared quite full of
moraines; the other, or continuation of the Yangma, runs W.N.W., and
leads to the Kanglachem pass.
Near our camp (of which the elevation was 13,500 feet), radishes,
barley, wheat, potatos, and turnips, were cultivated as summer crops,
and we even saw some on the top of the terrace, 400 feet above our
camp, or nearly 14,000 feet above the sea; these were grown in small
fields cleared of stones, and protected by dykes.
The scenery, though dismal, (no juniper even attaining this elevation,)
was full of interest and grandeur, from the number and variety of snowy
peaks and glaciers all around the elevated horizon; the ancient
lake-beds, now green or brown with scanty vegetation, the vast
moraines, the ridges of glacial débris, the flat terraces, marking, as
it were with parallel roads, the bluff sides of the mountains, the
enormous boulders perched upon them, and strewed everywhere around, the
little Boodhist monuments of quaint, picturesque shapes, decorated with
poles and banners, the many-coloured dresses of the people, the
brilliant blue of the cloudless heaven by day, the depth of its
blackness by night, heightened by the light of the stars, that blaze
and twinkle with a lustre unknown in less lofty regions: all these were
subjects for contemplation, rendered more impressive by the stillness
of the atmosphere, and the silence that reigned around. The village
seemed buried in repose throughout the day: the inhabitants had already
hybernated, their crops were stored, the curd made and dried, the
passes closed, the soil frozen, the winter’s stock of fuel housed, and
the people had retired into the caverns of their half subterranean
houses, to sleep, spin wool, and think of Boodh, if of anything at all,
the dead, long winter through. The yaks alone can find anything to do:
so long as any vegetation remains they roam and eat it, still yielding
milk, which the women take morning and evening, when their shrill
whistle and cries are heard for a few minutes, as they call the
grunting animals. No other sounds, save the harsh roar and hollow echo
of the falling rock, glacier, or snow-bed, disturbed the perfect
silence of the day or night.[79]
[79] Snow covers the ground at Yangma from December till April, and
the falls are said to be very heavy, at times amounting to 12 feet in
depth.
I had taken three days’ food to Yangma, and stayed there as long as it
lasted: the rest of my provisions I had left below the first moraine,
where a lateral valley leads east over the Nango pass to the Kambachen
valley, which lay on the route back to Sikkim.
I was premature in complaining of my Wallanchoon tents, those provided
for me at Yangma being infinitely worse, mere rags, around which I
piled sods as a defence from the insidious piercing night-wind that
descended from the northern glaciers in calm, but most keen, breezes.
There was no food to be procured in the village, except a little watery
milk, and a few small watery potatos. The latter have only very
recently been introduced amongst the Tibetans, from the English garden
at the Nepalese capital, I believe, and their culture has not spread in
these regions further east than Kinchinjunga, but they will very soon
penetrate into Tibet from Dorjiling, or eastward from Nepal. My private
stock of provisions—consisting chiefly of preserved meats from my kind
friend Mr. Hodgson—had fallen very low; and I here found to my dismay
that of four remaining two-pound cases, provided as meat, three
contained prunes, and one _“dindon aux truffes!”_ Never did luxuries
come more inopportunely; however the greasy French viand served for
many a future meal as sauce to help me to bolt my rice, and according
to the theory of chemists, to supply animal heat in these frigid
regions. As for my people, they were not accustomed to much animal
food; two pounds of rice, with ghee and chilis, forming their common
diet under cold and fatigue. The poorer Tibetans, especially, who
undergo great privation and toil, live almost wholly on barley-meal,
with tea, and a very little butter and salt: this is not only the case
with those amongst whom I mixed so much, but is also mentioned by MM.
Huc and Gabet, as having been observed by them in other parts of Tibet.
On the 1st of December I visited the village and terrace, and proceeded
to the head of the Yangma valley, in order to ascend the Kanglachem
pass as far as practicable. The houses are low, built of stone, of no
particular shape, and are clustered in groups against the steep face of
the terrace; filthy lanes wind amongst them, so narrow, that if you are
not too tall, you look into the slits of windows on either hand, by
turning your head, and feel the noisome warm air in whiffs against your
face. Glacial boulders lie scattered throughout the village, around and
beneath the clusters of houses, from which it is sometimes difficult to
distinguish the native rock. I entered one house by a narrow low door
through walls four feet thick, and found myself in an apartment full of
wool, juniper-wood, and dried dung for fuel: no one lived in the lower
story, which was quite dark, and as I stood in it my head was in the
upper, to which I ascended by a notched pole (like that in the picture
of a Kamschatk house in Cook’s voyage), and went into a small low room.
The inmates looked half asleep, they were intolerably indolent and
filthy, and were employed in spinning wool and smoking. A hole in the
wall of the upper apartment led me on to the stone roof of the
neighbouring house, from which I passed to the top of a glacial
boulder, descending thence by rude steps to the narrow alley. Wishing
to see as much as I could, I was led on a winding course through, in
and out, and over the tops of the houses of the village, which
alternately reminded me of a stone quarry or gravel pit, and gipsies
living in old lime-kilns; and of all sorts of odd places that are
turned to account as human habitations.
[Illustration: Diagram of the glacial terraces at the fork of the
Yangma Valley]
From the village I ascended to the top of the terrace, which is a
perfectly level, sandy, triangular plain, pointing down the valley at
the fork of the latter, and abutting against the flank of a steep,
rocky, snow-topped mountain to the northward. Its length is probably
half a mile from north to south, but it runs for two miles westward up
the valley, gradually contracting. The surface, though level, is very
uneven, being worn into hollows, and presenting ridges and hillocks of
blown sand and gravel, with small black tufts of rhododendron. Enormous
boulders of gneiss and granite were scattered over the surface; one of
the ordinary size, which I measured, was seventy feet in girth, and
fifteen feet above the ground, into which it had partly sunk. From the
southern pointed end I took sketches of the opposite flanks of the
valleys east and west. The river was about 400 feet below me, and
flowed in a little flat lake-bed; other terraces skirted it, cut out,
as it were, from the side of that I was on. On the opposite flank of
the valley were several superimposed terraces, of which the highest
appeared to tally with the level I occupied, and the lowest was raised
very little above the river; none were continuous for any distance, but
the upper one in particular, could be most conspicuously traced up and
down the main valley, whilst, on looking across to the eastern valley,
a much higher, but less distinctly marked one appeared on it. The road
to the pass lay west-north-west up the north bank of the Yangma river,
on the great terrace; for two miles it was nearly level along the
gradually narrowing shelf, at times dipping into the steep gulleys
formed by lateral torrents from the mountains; and as the terrace
disappeared, or melted, as it were, into the rising floor of the
valley, the path descended upon the lower and smaller shelf.
We came suddenly upon a flock of gigantic wild sheep, feeding on scanty
tufts of dried sedge and grass; there were twenty-five of these
enormous animals, of whose dimensions the term sheep gives no idea:
they are very long-legged, stand as high as a calf, and have immense
horns, so large that the fox is said to take up his abode in their
hollows, when detached and bleaching, on the barren mountains of Tibet.
Though very wild, I am sure I could easily have killed a couple had I
had my gun, but I had found it necessary to reduce my party so
uncompromisingly, that I could not afford a man both for my gun and
instruments, and had sent the former back to Dorjiling, with Mr.
Hodgson’s bird-stuffers, who had broken one of theirs. Travelling
without fire-arms sounds strange in India, but in these regions animal
life is very rare, game is only procured with much hunting and trouble,
and to come within shot of a flock of wild sheep was a contingency I
never contemplated. Considering how very short we were of any food, and
quite out of animal diet, I could not but bitterly regret the want of a
gun, but consoled myself by reflecting that the instruments were still
more urgently required to enable me to survey this extremely
interesting valley. As it was, the great beasts trotted off, and turned
to tantalise me by grazing within an easy stalking distance. We saw
several other flocks, of thirty to forty, during the day, but never,
either on this or any future occasion, within shot. The _Ovis Ammon_ of
Pallas stands from four to five feet high, and measures seven feet from
nose to tail; it is quite a Tibetan animal, and is seldom seen below
14,000 feet, except when driven lower by snow; and I have seen it as
high as 18,000 feet. The same animal, I believe, is found in Siberia,
and is allied to the Big-horn of North America.
Soon after descending to the bed of the valley, which is broad and
open, we came on a second dry lake-bed, a mile long, with shelving
banks all round, heavily snowed on the shaded side; the river was
divided into many arms, and meandered over it, and a fine glacier-bound
valley opened into it from the south. There were no boulders on its
surface, which was pebbly, with tufts of grass and creeping tamarisk.
On the banks I observed much granite, with large mica crystals,
hornstone, tourmaline, and stratified quartz, with granite veins
parallel to the foliation or lamination.
A rather steep ascent of a mile, through a contracted part of the
valley, led to another and smaller lake-bed, a quarter of a mile long
and 100 yards broad, covered with patches of snow, and having no
lateral valley opening into it: it faced the now stupendous masses of
snow and ice which filled the upper part of the Yangma valley. This
lake-bed (elevation, 15,186 feet) was strewed with enormous boulders; a
rude stone hut stood near it, where we halted for a few minutes at 1
p.m., when the temperature was 42·2°, while the dew-point was only
20·7°.[80] At the same time, the black bulb thermometer, fully exposed
on the snow, rose 54° above the air, and the photometer gave 10·572.
Though the sun’s power was so great, there was, however, no appearance
of the snow melting, evaporation proceeding with too great rapidity.
[80] This indicates a very dry state of the air, the saturation-point
being 0·133°; whereas, at the same hour at Calcutta it was 0·559°.
[Illustration: Kanglachem Pass]
Enormous piles of gravel and sand had descended upon the upper end of
this lake-bed, forming shelves, terraces, and curving ridges,
apparently consolidated by ice, and covered in many places with snow.
Following the stream, we soon came to an immense moraine, which blocked
up the valley, formed of angular boulders, some of which were fifty
feet high. Respiration had been difficult for some time, and the guide
we had taken from the village said we were some hours from the top of
the pass, and could get but a little way further; we however proceeded,
plunging through the snow, till on cresting the moraine a stupendous
scene presented itself. A gulf of moraines, and enormous ridges of
débris, lay at our feet, girdled by an amphitheatre of towering,
snow-clad peaks, rising to 17,000 and 18,000 feet all around. Black
scarped precipices rose on every side; deep snow-beds and blue glaciers
rolled down every gulley, converging in the hollow below, and from each
transporting its own materials, there ensued a complication of
moraines, that presented no order to the eye. In spite of their mutual
interference, however, each had raised a ridge of débris or moraine
parallel to itself.
We descended with great difficulty through the soft snow that covered
the moraine, to the bed of this gulf of snow and glaciers; and halted
by an enormous stone, above the bed of a little lake, which was snowed
all over, but surrounded by two superimposed level terraces, with
sharply defined edges. The moraine formed a barrier to its now frozen
waters, and it appeared to receive the drainage of many glaciers, which
filtered through their gravelly ridges and moraines.
We could make no further progress; the pass lay at the distance of
several hours’ march, up a valley to the north, down which the glacier
must have rolled that had deposited this great moraine; the pass had
been closed since October, it being very lofty, and the head of this
valley was far more snowy than that at Wallanchoon. We halted in the
snow from 3 to 4 p.m., during which time I again took angles and
observations; the height of this spot, called Pabuk, is 16,038 feet,
whence the pass is probably considerably over 17,000 feet, for there
was a steep ascent beyond our position. The sun sank at 3 p.m., and the
thermometer immediately fell from 35° to 30·75°.[81]
[81] At 4 o’clock, to 29·5°, the average dew-point was 16·3°, and
dryness 0·55; weight of vapour in a cubic foot, 1·33 grains.
After fixing in my note and sketch books the principal features of this
sublime scene, we returned down the valley: the distance to our camp
being fully eight miles, night overtook us before we got half-way, but
a two days’ old moon guided us perfectly, a remarkable instance of the
clearness of the atmosphere at these great elevations. Lassitude,
giddiness, and headache came on as our exertions increased, and took
away the pleasure I should otherwise have felt in contemplating by
moonlight the varied phenomena, which seemed to crowd upon the restless
imagination, in the different forms of mountain, glacier, moraine,
lake, boulder and terrace. Happily I had noted everything on my way up,
and left nothing intentionally to be done on returning. In making such
excursions as this, it is above all things desirable to seize and book
every object worth noticing on the way out: I always carried my
note-book and pencil tied to my jacket pocket, and generally walked
with them in my hand. It is impossible to begin observing too soon, or
to observe too much: if the excursion is long, little is ever done on
the way home; the bodily powers being mechanically exerted, the mind
seeks repose, and being fevered through over-exertion, it can endure no
train of thought, or be brought to bear on a subject.
During my stay at Yangma, the thermometer never rose to 50°, it fell to
14·75° at night; the ground was frozen for several inches below the
surface, but at two feet depth its temperature was 37·5°. The black
bulb thermometer rose on one occasion 84° above the surrounding air.
Before leaving, I measured by angles and a base-line the elevations of
the great village-terrace above the river, and that of a loftier one,
on the west flank of the main valley; the former was about 400 and the
latter 700 feet.
Considering this latter as the upper terrace, and concluding that it
marks a water level, it is not very difficult to account for its
origin. There is every reason to suppose that the flanks of the valley
were once covered to the elevation of the upper terrace, with an
enormous accumulation of débris; though it does not follow that the
whole valley was filled by ice-action to the same depth; the effect of
glaciers being to deposit moraines between themselves and the sides of
the valley they fill; as also to push forward similar accumulations.
Glaciers from each valley, meeting at the fork, where their depth would
be 700 feet of ice, would both deposit the necessary accumulation along
the flanks of the great valley, and also throw a barrier across it. The
melting waters of such glaciers would accumulate in lakes, confined by
the frozen earth, between the moraines and mountains. Such lakes,
though on a small scale, are found at the terminations and sides of
existing glaciers, and are surrounded by terraces of shingle and
débris; these terraces being laid bare by the sudden drainage of the
lakes during seasons of unusual warmth. To explain the phenomena of the
Yangma valley, it may be necessary to demand larger lakes and deeper
accumulations of débris than are now familiar to us, but the proofs of
glaciers having once descended to from 8000 to 10,000 feet in every
Sikkim and east Nepal valley communicating with mountains above 16,000
feet elevation, are overwhelming, and the glaciers must, in some cases,
have been fully forty miles long, and 500 feet in depth. The absence of
any remains of a moraine, or of blocks of rock in the valley below the
fork, is I believe, the only apparent objection to this theory; but, as
I shall elsewhere have occasion to observe, the magnitude of the
moraines bears no fixed proportion to that of the glacier, and at
Pabuk, the steep ridges of débris, which were heaped up 200 feet high,
were far more striking than the more usual form of moraine.
On my way up to Yangma I had rudely plotted the valley, and selected
prominent positions for improving my plan on my return: these I now
made use of, taking bearings with the azimuth compass, and angles by
means of a pocket sextant. The result of my running-survey of the whole
valley, from 10,000 to 16,000 feet, I have given along with a
sketch-map of my routes in India, which accompanies this volume.
[Illustration: Skulls of Ovis ammon.]