Ascend to Nango mountain—Moraines—Glaciers—Vegetation—_Rhododendron
Hodgsoni_—Rocks—Honey-combed surface of snow—Perpetual snow—Top of
pass—View—Elevation—Geology—Distance of
sound—Plants—Temperature—Scenery—Cliffs of granite and hurled
boulders—Camp—Descent—Pheasants—Larch—Himalayan pines—Distribution of
Deodar, note on—Tassichooding temples—Kambachen
village—Cultivation—Moraines in valley, distribution of—Picturesque
lake-beds, and their vegetation—Tibetan sheep and goats—_Cryptogramma
crispa_—Ascent to Choonjerma pass—View of Junnoo—Rocks of its
summit—Misty ocean—Nepal peaks—Top of pass—Temperature, and
observations—Gorgeous sunset—Descent to Yalloong valley—Loose
path—Night scenes—Musk deer.
We passed the night a few miles below the great moraine, in a pine-wood
(alt. 11,000 feet) opposite the gorge which leads to the Kambachen or
Nango pass, over the south shoulder of the mountain of that name: it is
situated on a ridge dividing the Yangma river from that of Kambachen,
which latter falls into the Tambur opposite Lelyp.
The road crosses the Yangma (which is about fifteen feet wide), and
immediately ascends steeply to the south-east, over a rocky moraine,
clothed with a dense thicket of rhododendrons, mountain-ash, maples,
pine, birch, juniper, etc. The ground was covered with silvery flakes
of birch bark, and that of _Rhododendron Hodgsoni,_ which is as
delicate as tissue-paper, and of a pale flesh-colour. I had never
before met with this species, and was astonished at the beauty of its
foliage, which was of a beautiful bright green, with leaves sixteen
inches long.
Beyond the region of trees and large shrubs the alpine rhododendrons
filled the broken surface of the valley, growing with _Potentilla,_
Honeysuckle, _Polygonum,_ and dwarf juniper. The peak of Nango seemed
to tower over the gorge, rising behind some black, splintered, rocky
cliffs, sprinkled with snow, narrow defiles opened up through these
cliffs to blue glaciers, and their mouths were invariably closed by
beds of shingly moraines, curving outwards from either, flank in
concentric ridges.
Towards the base of the peak, at about 14,000 feet, the scenery is very
grand; a great moraine rises suddenly to the north-west, under the
principal mass of snow and ice, and barren slopes of gravel descend
from it; on either side are rugged precipices; the ground is bare and
stony, with patches of brown grass: and, on looking back, the valley
appears very steep to the first shrubby vegetation, of dark green
rhododendrons, bristling with ugly stunted pines.
We followed a valley to the south-east, so as to turn the flank of the
peak; the path lying over beds of October snow at 14,000 feet, and over
plashy ground, from its melting. Sometimes our way lay close to the
black precipices on our right, under which the snow was deep; and we
dragged ourselves along, grasping every prominence of the rock with our
numbed fingers. Granite appeared in large veins in the crumpled gneiss
at a great elevation, in its most beautiful and loosely-crystallised
form, of pearly white prisms of felspar, glassy quartz, and milk-white
flat plates of mica, with occasionally large crystals of tourmaline.
Garnets were very frequent in the gneiss near the granite veins. Small
rushes, grasses, and sedges formed the remaining vegetation, amongst
which were the withered stalks of gentians, _Sedum, Arenaria, Silene,_
and many Composite plants.
At a little below 15,000 feet, we reached enormous flat beds of snow,
which were said to be perpetual, but covered deeply with the October
fall. They were continuous, and like all the snow I saw at this season,
the surface was honeycombed into thin plates, dipping north at a high
angle; the intervening fissures were about six inches deep. A thick
mist here overtook us, and this, with the great difficulty of picking
our way, rendered the ascent very fatiguing. Being sanguine about
obtaining a good view, I found it almost impossible to keep my temper
under the aggravations of pain in the forehead, lassitude, oppression
of breathing, a dense drizzling fog, a keen cold wind, a slippery
footing, where I was stumbling at every few steps, and icy-cold wet
feet, hands, and eyelids; the latter, odd as it sounds, I found a very
disagreeable accompaniment of continued raw cold wind.
After an hour and a half’s toilsome ascent, during which we made but
little progress, we reached the crest, crossing a broad shelf of snow
between two rocky eminences; the ridge was unsnowed a little way down
the east flank; this was, in a great measure, due to the eastern
exposure being the more sunny, to the prevalence of the warm and
melting south-east winds that blow up the deep Kambachen valley, and to
the fact that the great snow-beds on the west side are drifted
accumulations.[82] The mist cleared off, and I had a partial, though
limited, view. To the north the blue ice-clad peak of Nango was still
2000 feet above us, its snowy mantle falling in great sweeps and curves
into glacier-bound valleys, over which the ice streamed out of sight,
bounded by black aiguilles of gneiss. The Yangma valley was quite
hidden, but to the eastward the view across the stupendous gorge of the
Kambachen, 5000 feet below, to the waste of snow, ice, and rock, piled
in confusion along the top of the range of Junnoo and Choonjerma,
parallel to this but higher, was very grand indeed: this we were to
cross in two days, and its appearance was such, that our guide doubted
the possibility of our doing it. A third and fourth mountain mass
(unseen) lay beyond this, between us and Sikkim, divided by valleys as
deep as those of Yangma and Kambachen.
[82] Such enormous beds of snow in depressions, or on gentle slopes,
are generally adopted as indicating the lower limit of perpetual snow.
They are, however, winter accumulations, due mainly to eddies of wind,
of far more snow than can be melted in the following summer, being
hence perennial in the ordinary sense of the word. They pass into the
state of glacier ice, and, obeying the laws that govern the motions of
a viscous fluid, so admirably elucidated by Forbes (“Travels in the
Alps”), they flow downwards. A careful examination of those great beds
of snow in the Alps, from whose position the mean lower level of
perpetual snow, in that latitude, is deduced, has convinced me that
these are mainly due to accumulations of this kind, and that the true
limit of perpetual snow, or that point where all that falls melts, is
much higher than it is usually supposed to be.
Having hung up my instruments, I ascended a few hundred feet to some
naked rocks, to the northward; they were of much-crumpled and
dislocated gneiss, thrown up at a very high angle, and striking
north-west. Chlorite, schist, and quartz, in thin beds, alternated with
the gneiss, and veins of granite and quartz, were injected through
them.
It fell calm; when the distance to which the voice was carried was very
remarkable; I could distinctly hear every word spoken 300 to 400 yards
off, and did not raise my voice when I asked one of the men to bring me
a hammer.
The few plants about were generally small tufted _Arenarias_ and woolly
_Compositæ,_ with a thick-rooted Umbellifer that spread its short,
fleshy leaves and branches flat on the ground; the root was very
aromatic, but wedged close in the rock. The temperature at 4 p.m. was
23°, and bitterly cold; the elevation, 15,770 feet; dew-point, 16°. The
air was not very dry; saturation-point, 0·670°, whereas at Calcutta it
was 0·498° at the same hour.
The descent was to a broad, open valley, into which the flank of Nango
dipped in tremendous precipices, which reared their heads in splintered
snowy peaks. At their bases were shoots of débris fully 700 feet high,
sloping at a steep angle. Enormous masses of rock, detached by the
action of the frost and ice from the crags, were scattered over the
bottom of the valley; they had been precipitated from above, and
gaining impetus in their descent, bad been hurled to almost
inconceivable distances from the parent cliff. All were of a very
white, fine-grained crystallised granite, full of small veins of the
same rock still more finely crystallised. The weathered surface of each
block was black, and covered with moss and lichens; the others
beautifully white, with clean, sharp-fractured edges. The material of
which they were composed was so hard that I found it difficult to
detach a specimen.
Darkness had already come on, and the coolies being far behind, we
encamped by the light of the moon, shining through a thin fog, where we
first found dwarf-juniper for fuel, at 13,500 feet. A little sleet fell
during the night, which was tolerably fine, and not very cold; the
minimum thermometer indicating 14·5°.
Having no tent-poles, I had some difficulty in getting my blankets
arranged as a shelter, which was done by making them slant from the
side of a boulder, on the top of which one end was kept by heavy
stones; under this roof I laid my bed, on a mass of rhododendron and
juniper-twigs. The men did the same against other boulders, and
lighting a huge fire opposite the mouth of my ground-nest, I sat
cross-legged on the bed to eat my supper; my face scorching, and my
back freezing. Rice, boiled with a few ounces of greasy _dindon aux
truffes_ was now my daily dinner, with chili-vinegar and tea, and I
used to relish it keenly: this finished, I smoked a cigar, and wrote up
my journal (in short intervals between warming myself) by the light of
the fire; took observations by means of a dark-lantern; and when all
this was accomplished, I went to roost.
_December 5._—On looking out this morning, it was with a feeling of awe
that I gazed at the stupendous ice-crowned precipices that shot up to
the summit of Nango, their flanks spotted white at the places whence
the gigantic masses with which I was surrounded had fallen; thence my
eye wandered down their black faces to the slope of débris at the
bottom, thus tracing the course which had probably been taken by that
rock under whose shelter I had passed the previous night.
Meepo, the Lepcha sent by the rajah, had snared a couple of beautiful
pheasants, one of which I skinned, and ate for breakfast; it is a small
bird, common above 12,000 feet, but very wild; the male has two to five
spurs on each of its legs, according to its age; the general colour is
greenish, with a broad scarlet patch surrounding the eye; the Nepalese
name is “Khalidge.” The crop was distended with juniper berries, of
which the flesh tasted strongly, and it was the very hardest, toughest
bird I ever did eat.
We descended at first through rhododendron and juniper, then through
black silver-fir (_Abies Webbiana_), and below that, near the river, we
came to the Himalayan larch; a tree quite unknown, except from a notice
in the journals of Mr. Griffith, who found it in Bhotan. It is a small
tree, twenty to forty feet high, perfectly similar in general
characters to a European larch, but with larger cones, which are erect
upon the very long, pensile, whip-like branches; its leaves,—now
red—were falling, and covering the rocky ground on which it grew,
scattered amongst other trees. It is called “Saar” by the Lepchas and
Cis-himalayan Tibetans, and “Boarga-sella” by the Nepalese, who say it
is found as far west as the heads of the Cosi river: it does not
inhabit Central or West Nepal, nor the North-west Himalaya. The
distribution of the Himalayan pines is very remarkable. The Deodar has
not been seen east of Nepal, nor the _Pinus Gerardiana, Cupressus
torulosa,_ or _Juniperus communis._ On the other hand, _Podocarpus_ is
confined to the east of Katmandoo. _Abies Brunoniana_ does not occur
west of the Gogra, nor the larch west of the Cosi, nor funereal cypress
(an introduced plant, however) west of the Teesta (in Sikkim). Of the
twelve[83] Sikkim and Bhotan _Coniferæ_ (including yew, junipers, and
_Podocarpus_) eight are common to the North-west Himalaya (west of
Nepal), and four[84] are not: of the thirteen natives of the north-west
provinces, again, only five[85] are not found in Sikkim, and I have
given their names below, because they show how European the absent ones
are, either specifically or in affinity. I have stated that the Deodar
is possibly a variety of the Cedar of Lebanon. This is now a prevalent
opinion, which is strengthened by the fact that so many more Himalayan
plants are now ascertained to be European than had been supposed before
they were compared with European specimens; such are the yew,
_Juniperus communis, Berberis vulgaris, Quercus Ballota, Populus alba_
and _Euphratica,_ etc. The cones of the Deodar are identical with those
of the Cedar of Lebanon: the Deodar has, generally longer and more pale
bluish leaves and weeping branches,[86] but these characters seem to be
unusually developed in our gardens; for several gentlemen, well
acquainted with the Deodar at Simla, when asked to point it out in the
Kew Gardens, have indicated the Cedar of Lebanon, and when shown the
Deodar, declare that they never saw that plant in the Himalaya!
[83] Juniper, 3; yew, _Abies Webbiana, Brunoniana,_ and _Smithiana_:
Larch, _Pinus excelsa,_ and _longifolia,_ and _Podocarpus neriifolia._
[84] Larch, _Cupressus funebris, Podocarpus neriifolia, Abies
Brunoniana._
[85] A juniper (the European _communis_), Deodar (possibly only a
variety of the Cedar of Lebanon and of Mount Atlas), _Pinus
Gerardiana, P. excelsa,_ and _Crupressus torulosa._
[86] Since writing the above, I have seen, in the magnificent Pinetum
at Dropmore, noble cedars, with the length and hue of leaf, and the
pensile branches of the Deodar, and far more beautiful than that is,
and as unlike the common Lebanon Cedar as possible. When it is
considered from how very few wild trees (and these said to be exactly
alike) the many dissimilar varieties of the _C. Libani_ have been
derived; the probability of this, the Cedar of Algiers, and of the
Himalayas (Deodar) being all forms of one species, is greatly
increased. We cannot presume to judge from the few cedars which still
remain, what the habit and appearance of the tree may have been, when
it covered the slopes of Libanus, and seeing how very variable
_Coniferæ_ are in habit, we may assume that its surviving specimens
give us no information on this head. Should all three prove one, it
will materially enlarge our ideas of the distribution and variation of
species. The botanist will insist that the typical form of cedar is
that which retains its characters best over the greatest area, namely,
the Deodar; in which case the prejudice of the ignorant, and the
preconceived ideas of the naturalist, must yield to the fact that the
old familiar Cedar of Lebanon is an unusual variety of the Himalayan
Deodar.
At the bottom of the valley we turned up the stream, and passing the
Tassichooding convents[87] and temple, crossed the river—which was a
furious torrent, about twelve yards wide—to the village of Kambachen,
on a flat terrace a few feet above the stream. There were about a dozen
houses of wood, plastered with mud and dung, scattered over a grassy
plain of a few acres, fenced in, as were also a few fields, with stone
dykes. The only cultivation consists of radishes, potatos, and barley:
no wheat is grown, the climate being said to be too cold for it, by
which is probably meant that it is foggy,—the elevation (11,380 feet)
being 2000 feet less than that of Yangma village, and the temperature
therefore 6° to 7° warmer; but of all the mountain gorges I have ever
visited, this is by far the wildest, grandest, and most gloomy; and
that man should hybernate here is indeed extraordinary, for there is no
route up the valley, and all communication with Lelyp,[88] two marches
down the river, is cut off in winter, when the houses are buried in
snow, and drifts fifteen feet deep are said to be common. Standing on
the little flat of Kambachen, precipices, with inaccessible patches of
pine wood, appeared to the west, towering over head; while across the
narrow valley wilder and less wooded crags rose in broken ridges to the
glaciers of Nango. Up the valley, the view was cut off by bluff cliffs;
whilst down it, the scene was most remarkable: enormous black,
round-backed moraines, rose, tier above tier, from a flat lake-bed,
apparently hemming in the river between the lofty precipices on the
east flank of the valley. These had all been deposited at the mouth of
a lateral valley, opening just below the village, and descending from
Junnoo, a mountain of 25,312 feet elevation, and one of the grandest of
the Kinchinjunga group, whose top—though only five miles distant in a
straight line—rises 13,932 feet[89] above the village. Few facts show
more decidedly the extraordinary steepness and depth of the Kambachen
valley near the village, which, though nearly 11,400 feet above the
sea, lies between two mountains only eight miles apart, the one 25,312
feet high, the other (Nango), 19,000 feet.
[87] These were built by the Sikkim people, when the eastern valleys
of Nepal belonged to the Sikkim rajah.
[88] Which I passed, on the Tambur, on the 21st Nov. See page 204.
[89] his is one of the most sudden slopes in this part of the
Himalaya, the angle between the top of Junnoo and Kambachen being
2,786 feet per mile, or 1 in 1·8. The slope from the top of Mont Blanc
to the Chamouni valley is 2,464 feet per mile, or 1 in 2·1. That from
Monte Rosa top to Macugnaga greatly exceeds either.
The villagers received us very kindly, and furnished us with a guide
for the Choonjerma pass, leading to the Yalloong valley, the most
easterly in Nepal; but he recommended our not attempting any part of
the ascent till the morrow, as it was past 1 p.m., and we should find
no camping-ground for half the way up. The villagers gave us the leg of
a musk deer, and some red potatos, about as big as walnuts—all they
could spare from their winter-stock. With this scanty addition to our
stores we started down the valley, for a few miles alternately along
flat lake-beds and over moraines, till we crossed the stream from the
lateral valley, and ascending a little, camped on its bank, at 11,400
feet elevation.
In the afternoon I botanized amongst the moraines, which were very
numerous, and had been thrown down at right-angles to the main valley,
which latter being here very narrow, and bounded by lofty precipices,
must have stopped the parent glaciers, and effected the heaping of some
of these moraines to at least 1000 feet above the river. The general
features were modifications of those seen in the Yangma valley, but
contracted into a much smaller space.
The moraines were all accumulated in a sort of delta, through which the
lateral river debouched into the Kambachen, and were all deposited more
or less parallel to the course of the lateral valley, but curving
outwards from its mouth. The village-flat, or terrace, continued level
to the first moraine, which had been thrown down on the upper or north
side of the lateral valley, on whose and curving steep flanks it
abutted, and curving outwards seemed to encircle the village-flat on
the south and west; where it dipped into the river. This was crossed at
the height of about 100 feet, by a stony path, leading to the bed of
the rapid torrent flowing through shingle and boulders, beyond which
was another moraine, 250 feet high, and parallel to it a third gigantic
one.
[Illustration: Ancient moraines in the Kambachen Valley]
Ascending the great moraine at a place where it overhung the main
river, I had a good _coup-a’œil_ of the whole. The view south-east up
the glacial valley—(represented in the accompanying cut)—to the snowy
peaks south of Junnoo, was particularly grand, and most interesting
from the precision with which one great distant existing glacier was
marked by two waving parallel lines of lateral moraines, which formed,
as it were, a vast raised gutter, or channel, ascending from perhaps
16,000 feet elevation, till it was hidden behind a spur in the valley.
With a telescope I could descry many similar smaller glaciers, with
huge accumulations of shingle at their terminations; but this great one
was beautifully seen by the naked eye, and formed a very curious
feature in the landscape.
Between the moraines, near my tent, the soil was perfectly level, and
consisted of little lake-beds strewn with gigantic boulders, and
covered with hard turf of grass and sedge, and little bushes of dwarf
rhododendron and prostrate juniper, as trim as if they had been
clipped. Altogether these formed the most picturesque little nooks it
was possible to conceive; and they exhibited the withered remains of so
many kinds of primrose, gentian, anemone, potentilla, orchis,
saxifrage, parnassia, campanula, and pedicularis, that in summer they
must be perfect gardens of wild flowers. Around each plot of a few
acres was the grand ice-transported girdle of stupendous rocks, many
from 50 to 100 feet long, crested with black tabular-branched silver
firs, conical deep green tree-junipers, and feathery larches; whilst
amongst the blocks grew a profusion of round masses of evergreen
rhododendron bushes. Beyond were stupendous frowning cliffs, beneath
which the river roared like thunder; and looking up the glacial valley,
the setting sun was bathing the expanse of snow in the most delicate
changing tints, pink, amber, and gold.
The boulders forming the moraine were so enormous and angular, that I
had great difficulty in ascending it. I saw some pheasants feeding on
the black berries of the juniper, but where the large rhododendrons
grew amongst the rocks I found it impossible to penetrate. The largest
of the moraines is piled to upwards of 1000 feet against the south
flank of the lateral valley, and stretched far up it beyond my camp,
which was in a grove of silver firs. A large flock of sheep and goats,
laden with salt, overtook us here on their route from Wallanchoon to
Yalloong. The sheep I observed to feed on the _Rhododendron Thomsoni_
and _campylocarpum._ On the roots of one of the latter species a
parasitical Broom-rape (_Orobanche_) grew abundantly; and about the
moraines were more mosses, lichens, etc., than I have elsewhere seen in
the loftier Himalaya, encouraged no doubt by the dampness of this grand
mountain gorge, which is so hemmed in that the sun never reaches it
until four or five hours after it has gilded the overhanging peaks.
_December 5._—The morning was bright and clear, and we left early for
the Choonjerma pass. I had hoped the route would be up the magnificent
glacier-girdled valley in which we had encamped; but it lay up another,
considerably south of it, and to which we crossed, ascending the rocky
moraine, in the clefts of which grew abundance of a common Scotch fern,
_Cryptogramma crispa_!
The clouds early commenced gathering, and it was curious to watch their
rapid formation in coalescing streaks, which became first cirrhi, and
then stratus, being apparently continually added to from below by the
moisture-bringing southerly wind. Ascending a lofty spur, 1000 feet
above the valley, against which the moraine was banked, I found it to
be a distinct anticlinal axis. The pass, bearing north-west, and the
valley we had descended on the previous day, rose immediately over the
curved strata of quartz, topped by the glacier-crowned mountain of
Nango, with four glaciers descending from its perpetual snows. The
stupendous cliffs on its flanks, under which I had camped on the
previous night, were very grand, but not more so than those which
dipped into the chasm of the Kambachen below. Looking up the valley of
the latter, was another wilderness of ice full of enormous moraines,
round the bases of which the river wound.
Ascending, we reached an open grassy valley, and overtook the Tibetans
who had preceded us, and who had halted here to feed their sheep. A
good-looking girl of the party came to ask me for medicine for her
husband’s eyes, which had suffered from snow-blindness: she brought me
a present of snuff, and carried a little child, stark naked, yet warm
from the powerful rays of the sun, at nearly 14,000 feet elevation, in
December! I prescribed for the man, and gave the mother a bright
farthing to hang round the child’s neck, which delighted the party. My
watch was only wondered at; but a little spring measuring-tape that
rolled itself up, struck them dumb, and when I threw it on the ground
with the tape out, the mother shrieked and ran away, while the little
savage howled after her.
Above, the path up the ascent was blocked with snowbeds, and for
several miles we alternately scrambled among rocks and over slippery
slopes, to the top of the first ridge, there being two to cross. The
first consisted of a ridge of rocks running east and west from a superb
sweep of snowy mountains to the north-west, which presented a chaotic
scene of blue glacial ice and white snow, through which splintered
rocks and beetling crags thrust their black heads. The view into the
Kambachen gorge was magnificent, though it did not reveal the very
bottom of the valley and its moraines: the black precipices of its
opposite flank seemed to rise to the glaciers of Nango, fore-shortened
into snow-capped precipices 5000 feet high, amongst which lay the
Kambachen pass, bearing north-west by north. Lower down the valley,
appeared a broad flat, called Jubla, a halting-place one stage below
the village of Kambachen, on the road to Lelyp on the Tambur: it must
be a remarkable geological as well as natural feature, for it appeared
to jut abruptly and quite horizontally from the black cliffs of the
valley.
Looking north, the conical head of Junnoo was just scattering the mists
from its snowy shoulders, and standing forth to view, the most
magnificent spectacle I ever beheld. It was quite close to me, bearing
north-east by east, and subtending an angle of 12° 23, and is much the
steepest and most conical of all the peaks of these regions. From
whichever side it is viewed, it rises 9000 feet above the general
mountain mass of 16,000 feet elevation, towering like a blunt cone,
with a short saddle on one side, that dips in a steep cliff: it
appeared as if uniformly snowed, from its rocks above 20,000 feet (like
those of Kinchinjunga) being of white granite, and not contrasting with
the snow. Whether the top is stratified or not, I cannot tell, but
waving parallel lines are very conspicuous near it, as shown in the
accompanying view.[90]
[90] The appearance of Mont Cervin, from the Riffelberg, much reminded
me of that of Junnoo, from the Choonjerma pass, the former bearing the
same relation to Monte Rosa that the latter does to Kinchinjunga.
Junnoo, though incomparably the more stupendous mass, not only rising
10,000 feat higher above the sea, but towering 4000 feet higher above
the ridge on which it is supported, is not nearly so remarkable in
outline, so sharp, or so peaked as is Mount Cervin: it is a very much
grander, but far less picturesque object. The whiteness of the sides
of Junnoo adds also greatly to its apparent altitude; while the strong
relief in which the black cliffs of Mont Cervin protrude through its
snowy mantle greatly diminish both its apparent height and distance.
[Illustration: Junnoo 24,000 ft. from Choonjerma Pass 16,000 ft. East
Nepal]
Looking south as evening drew on, another wonderful spectacle presented
itself, similar to that which I described at Sakkiazung, but displayed
here on an inconceivably grander scale, with all the effects
exaggerated. I saw a sea of mist floating 3000 feet beneath me, just
below the upper level of the black pines; the magnificent spurs of the
snowy range which I had crossed rising out of it in rugged grandeur as
promontories and peninsulas, between which the misty ocean seemed to
finger up like the fiords of Norway, or the salt-water lochs of the
west of Scotland; whilst islets tailed off from the promontories,
rising here and there out of the deceptive elements. I was so high
above this mist, that it had not the billowy appearance I saw before,
but was a calm unruffled ocean, boundless to the south and west, where
the horizon over-arched it. A little to the north of west I discerned
the most lofty group of mountains in Nepal[91] (mentioned at p. 185),
beyond Kinchinjurga, which I believe are on the west flank of the great
valley through which the Arun river enters Nepal from Tibet: they were
very distant, and subtended so small an angle, that I could not measure
them with the sextant and artificial horizon their height, judging from
the quantity of snow, must be prodigious.
[91] Called Tsungau by the Bhoteeas. Junnoo is called Kumbo~Kurma by
the Hill-men of Nepal.
From 4 to 5 p.m. the temperature was 24°, with a very cold wind; the
elevation by the barometer was 15,260 feet, and the dew-point 10.5°,
giving the humidity 0·610, and the amount of vapour 1·09 grains in a
cubic foot of air; the same elements at Calcutta, at the same hour,
being thermometer 66·5°, dew-point 60·5°, humidity 0·840, and weight of
vapour 5·9 grains.
I waited for an hour, examining the rocks about the pass, till the
coolies should come up, but saw nothing worthy of remark, the natural
history and geology being identical with those of Kambachen pass: I
then bade adieu to the sublime and majestic peak of Junnoo. Thence we
continued at nearly the same level for about four miles, dipping into
the broad head of a snowy valley, and ascending to the second pass,
which lay to the south-east.
On the left I passed a very curious isolated pillar of rock, amongst
the wild crags to the north-east, whose bases we skirted: it resembles
the Capuchin on the shoulder of Mont Blanc, as seen from the Jardin.
Evening overtook us while still on the snow near the last ascent. As
the sun declined, the snow at our feet reflected the most exquisitely
delicate peach-bloom hue; and looking west from the top of the pass,
the scenery was gorgeous beyond description, for the sun was just
plunging into a sea of mist, amongst some cirrhi and stratus, all in a
blaze of the ruddiest coppery hue. As it sank, the Nepal, peaks to the
right assumed more definite, darker, and gigantic forms, and floods of
light shot across the misty ocean, bathing the landscape around me in
the most wonderful and indescribable changing tints. As the luminary
was vanishing, the whole horizon glowed like copper run from a smelting
furnace, and when it had quite disappeared, the little inequalities of
the ragged edges of the mist were lighted up and shone like a row of
volcanos in the far distance. I have never before or since seen
anything, which for sublimity, beauty, and marvellous effects, could
compare with what I gazed on that evening from Choonjerma pass. In some
of Turner’s pictures I have recognized similar effects, caught and
fixed by a marvellous effort of genius; such are the fleeting hues over
the ice, in his “Whalers,” and the ruddy fire in his “Wind, Steam, and
Rain,” which one almost fears to touch. Dissolving views give some idea
of the magic creation and dispersion of the effects, but any
combination of science and art can no more recall the scene, than it
can the feelings of awe that crept over me, during the hour I spent in
solitude amongst these stupendous mountains.
The moon guided us on our descent, which was to the south, obliquely
into the Yalloong valley. I was very uneasy about the coolies, who were
far behind, and some of them had been frost-bitten in crossing the
Kambachen pass. Still I thought the best thing was to push on, and
light large fires at the first juniper we should reach. The change, on
passing from off the snow to the dark earth and rock, was so
bewildering, that I had great difficulty in picking my way. Suddenly we
came on a flat with a small tarn, whose waters gleamed illusively in
the pale moonlight: the opposite flanks of the valley were so well
reflected on its gloomy surface, that we were at once brought to a
stand-still on its banks: it looked like a chasm, and whether to jump
across it, or go down it, or along it, was the question, so deceptive
was the spectral landscape. Its true nature was, however, soon
discovered, and we proceeded round it, descending. Of course there was
no path, and after some perplexity amongst rocks and ravines, we
reached the upper limit of wood, and halted by some bleached
juniper-trees, which were soon converted into blazing fires.
I wandered away from my party to listen for the voices of the men who
had lingered behind, about whom I was still more anxious, from the very
great difficulty they would encounter if, as we did, they should get
off the path. The moon was shining clearly in the black heavens; and
its bright light, with the pale glare of the surrounding snow, obscured
the milky way, and all the smaller stars; whilst the planets appeared
to glow with broader orbs than elsewhere, and the great stars flashed
steadily and periodically.
Deep black chasms seemed to yawn below, and cliffs rose on all sides,
except down the valley, where looking across the Yalloong river, a
steep range of mountains rose, seamed with torrents that were just
visible like threads of silver coursing down broad landslips. It was a
dead calm, and nothing broke the awful silence but the low hoarse
murmur of many torrents, whose mingled voices rose and fell as if with
the pulsations of the atmosphere; the undulations of which appeared
thus to be marked by the ear alone. Sometimes it was the faintest
possible murmur, and then it rose swelling and filling the air with
sound: the effect was that of being raised from the earth’s surface,
and again lowered to it; or that of waters advancing and retiring. In
such scenes and with such accompaniments, the mind wanders from the
real to the ideal, the larger and brighter lamps of heaven lead us to
imagine that we have risen from the surface of our globe and are
floating through the regions of space, and that the ceaseless murmur of
the waters is the Music of the Spheres.
Contemplation amid such soothing sounds and impressive scenes is very
seductive, and withal very dangerous, for the temperature was at
freezing-point, my feet and legs were wet through, and it was well that
I was soon roused from my reveries by the monosyllabic exclamations of
my coolies. They were quite knocked up, and came along grunting, and
halting every minute to rest, by supporting their loads, still hanging
to their backs, on their stout staves. I had still one bottle of brandy
left, with which to splice the main brace. It had been repeatedly
begged for in vain, and being no longer expected, was received with
unfeigned joy. Fortunately with these people a little spirits goes a
long way, and I kept half for future emergencies.
We camped at 13,290 feet, the air was calm and mild to the feeling,
though the temperature fell to 22·75°. On the following morning we saw
two musk-deer,[92] called “Kosturah” by the mountaineers. The musk,
which hangs in a pouch near the navel of the male, is the well-known
object of traffic with Bengal. This creature ranges between 8000 and
13,000 feet, on the Himalaya, often scenting the air for many hundred
yards. It is a pretty grey animal, the size of a roebuck, and something
resembling it, with coarse fur, short horns, and two projecting teeth
from the upper jaw, said to be used in rooting up the aromatic herbs
from which the Bhoteeas believe that it derives the odour of musk. This
I much doubt, because the animal never frequents those very lofty
regions where the herbs supposed to provide the scent are found, nor
have I ever seen signs of any having been so rooted up. The _Delphinium
glaciale_ smells strongly and disagreeably of musk, but it is one of
the most alpine plants in the world, growing at an elevation of 17,000
feet, far above the limits of the Kosturah. The female and young male
are very good eating, much better than any Indian venison I ever
tasted, being sweet and tender. Mr. Hodgson once kept a female alive,
but it was very wild, and continued so as long as I knew it. Two of my
Lepchas gave chase to these animals, and fired many arrows in vain
after them: these people are fond of carrying a bow, but are very poor
shots.
[92] There are two species of musk-deer in the Himalaya, besides the
Tibetan kind, which appears identical with the Siberian animal
originally described by Pallas.
We descended 3000 feet to the deep valley of the Yalloong river which
runs west-by-south to the Tambur, from between Junnoo and Kubra: the
path was very bad, over quartz, granite, and gneiss, which cut the
shoes and feet severely. The bottom of the valley, which is elevated
10,450 feet, was filled with an immense accumulation of angular gravel
and débris of the above rocks, forming on both sides of the river a
terrace 400 feet above the stream, which flowed in a furious torrent.
The path led over this deposit for a good many miles, and varied
exceedingly in height, in some places being evidently increased by
landslips, and at others apparently by moraines.
[Illustration: Tibetan charm-box]