Yalloong valley—Fiud Kanglanamo pass closed—Change route for the
southward—_Picrorhiza_—View of Kubra—_Rhododendron Falconeri_—Yalloong
river—Junction of gneiss and clay-slate—Cross Yalloong
range—View—Descent—Yew—Vegetation—Misty weather—Tongdam
village—Khabang—Tropical vegetation—Sidingbah Mountain—View of
Kinchinjunga—Yangyading village—Slopes of hills, and courses of
rivers—Khabili valley—Ghorkha Havildar’s bad conduct—Ascend
Singalelah—Plague of ticks—Short commons—Cross Islumbo pass—Boundary of
Sikkim—Kulhait valley—Lingeham—Reception by Kajee—Hear of Dr.
Campbell’s going to meet Rajah—Views in valley—Leave for Teesta
river—Tipsy Kajee—Hospitality—Murwa beer—Temples—_Acorus Calamus_—Long
Mendong—Burning of dead—Superstitions—Cross Great Rungeet—Boulders,
origin of—Purchase of a dog—Marshes—Lamas—Dismiss Ghorkhas—Bhoteea
house—Murwa beer.
On arriving at the bottom we found a party who were travelling with
sheep laden with salt; they told us that the Yalloong village, which
lay up the valley on the route to the Kanglanamo pass (leading over the
south shoulder of Kubra into Sikkim) was deserted, the inhabitants
having retired after the October fall of snow to Yankutang, two marches
down; also that the Kanglanamo pass was impracticable, being always
blocked up by the October fall. I was, therefore, reluctantly obliged
to abandon the plan of pursuing that route to Sikkim, and to go south,
following the west flank of Singalelah to the first of the many passes
over it which I might find open.
These people were very civil, and gave me a handful of the root of one
of the many bitter herbs called in Bengal “Teeta,” and used as a
febrifuge: the present was that of _Picrorhiza,_ a plant allied to
Speedwell, which grows at from 12,000 to 15,000 feet elevation, and is
a powerful bitter, called “Hoonling” by the Tibetans. They had with
them above 100 sheep, of a tall, long-legged, Roman-nosed breed. Each
carried upwards of forty pounds of salt, done up in two leather bags,
slung on either side, and secured by a band going over the chest, and
another round the loins, so that they cannot slip off, when going up or
down hill. These sheep are very tame, patient creatures, travelling
twelve miles a day with great ease, and being indifferent to rocky or
steep ground.
Looking east I had a splendid view of the broad snowy mass of Kubra,
blocking up, as it were, the head of the valley with a white screen.
Descending to about 10,000 feet, the _Abies Brunoniana_ appeared, with
fine trees of _Rhododendron Falconeri_ forty feet high, and with leaves
nineteen inches long! while the upper part of the valley was full of
_Abies Webbiana._
At the elevation of 9000 feet, we crossed to the east bank, and passed
the junction of the gneiss and mica slate: the latter crossed the
river, striking north-west, and the stream cut a dark chasm-like
channel through it, foaming and dashing the spray over the splintered
ridges, and the broad water-worn hog-backed masses that projected from
its bed. Immense veins of granite permeated the rocks, which were
crumpled in the strangest manner: isolated angular blocks of schist had
been taken up by the granite in a fluid state, and remained imbedded in
it.
The road made great ascents to avoid landslips, and to surmount the
enormous piles of débris which encumber this valley more than any
other. We encamped at 10,050 feet, on a little flat 1000 feet above the
bed of the river, and on its east flank. A _Hydrangea_ was the common
small wood, but _Abies Webbiana_ formed the forest, with great
Rhododendrons. The weather was foggy, whence I judged that we were in
the sea of mist I saw beneath me from the passes; the temperature,
considering the elevation, was mild, 37° and 38°, which was partly due
to the evolution of heat that accompanies the condensation of these
vapours, the atmosphere being loaded with moisture. The thermometer
fell to 28° during the night, and in the morning the ground was thickly
covered with hoar-frost.
_December 7._—We ascended the Yalloong ridge to a saddle 11,000 feet
elevation, whence the road dips south to the gloomy gorges of the
eastern feeders of the Tambur. Here we bade adieu to the grand alpine
scenery, and for several days our course lay in Nepal in a southerly
direction, parallel to Singalelah, and crossing every spur and river
sent off by that mighty range. The latter flow towards the Tambur, and
their beds, for forty or fifty miles are elevated about 3000 or 4000
feet. Few of the spurs are ascended above 5000 feet, but all of them
rise to 12,000 or 14,000 feet to the westward, where they join the
Singalelah range.
I clambered to the top of a lofty hummock, through a dense thicket of
interwoven Rhododendron bushes, the clayey soil under which was
slippery from the quantity of dead leaves. I had hoped for a view of
the top of Kinchinjunga, which bore north-east, but it was enveloped in
clouds, as were all the snows in that direction; to the north-west,
however, I obtained bearings of the principal peaks, etc., of the
Yangma and Kambachen valleys. To the south and south-east, lofty,
rugged and pine-clad mountains rose in confused masses, and white
sheets of mist came driving up, clinging to the mountain-tops, and
shrouding the landscape with extreme rapidity. The remarkable mountain
of Sidingbah bore south-south-east, raising its rounded head above the
clouds. I could, however, procure no other good bearing.
The descent from the Yalloong ridge to the Khabili feeders of the
Tambur was very steep, and in some places almost precipitous, first
through dense woods of silver fir, with _Rhod. Falconeri_ and
_Hodgsoni,_ then through _Abies Brunoniana,_ with yew (now covered with
red berries) to the region of Magnolias and _Rhod. arboreum_ and
_barbatum._ One bush of the former was in flower, making a gorgeous
show. Here also appeared the great oak with lamellated acorns, which I
had not seen in the drier valleys to the westward; with many other
Dorjiling trees and shrubs. A heavy mist clung to the rank luxuriant
foliage, tantalizing from its obscuring all the view. Mica schist
replaced the gneiss, and a thick slippery stratum of clay rendered it
very difficult to keep one’s footing. After so many days of bright
sunshine and dry weather, I found this quiet, damp, foggy atmosphere to
have a most depressing effect: there was little to interest in the
meteorology, the atmospheric fluctuations being far too small;
geographical discovery was at an end, and we groped our way along
devious paths in wooded valleys, or ascended spurs and ridges, always
clouded before noon, and clothed with heavy forest.
At 6000 feet we emerged from the mist, and found ourselves clambering
down a deep gully, hemmed in by frightful rocky steeps, which exposed a
fine and tolerably continuous section of schistose rocks, striking
north-west, and dipping north-east, at a very high angle.
At the bottom three furious torrents met: we descended the course of
one of them, over slanting precipices, or trees lashed to the rocks,
and after a most winding course our path conducted us to the village of
Tarbu, high above a feeder of the Khabili river, which flows west,
joining the Tambur three days’ march lower down. Having no food, we had
made a very long and difficult march to this place, but finding none
here, proceeded on to Tonghem village on the Khabili, descending
through thickets of _Rhod. arboreum_ to the elevation of 5,560.
This village, or spur, called “Tonghem” by the Limboos, and “Yankutang”
by the Bhoteeas, is the winter resort of the inhabitants of the upper
Yalloong valley: they received us very kindly, sold us two fowls, and
rice enough to last for one or two days, which was all they could
spare, and gave me a good deal of information. I found that the
Kanglanamo pass had been disused since the Nepal war, that it was very
lofty, and always closed in October.
The night was fine, clear, and warm, but the radiation so powerful that
the grass was coated with ice the following morning, though the
thermometer did not fall below 33°. The next day the sun rose with
great power, and the vegetation reeked and steamed with the heat.
Crossing the river, we first made a considerable descent, and then
ascended a ridge to 5,750 feet, through a thick jungle of _Camellia,
Eurya,_ and small oak: from the top I obtained bearings of Yalloong and
Choonjerma pass, and had also glimpses of the Kinchin range through a
tantalizing jungle; after which a very winding and fatiguing
up-and-down march southwards brought us to the village of Khabang, in
the magnificent valley of the Tawa, about 800 feet above the river, and
5,500 feet above the sea.
I halted here for a day, to refresh the people, and if possible to
obtain some food. I hoped, too, to find a pass into Sikkim, east over
Singalelah, but was disappointed: if there had ever been one, it had
been closed since the Nepal war; and there was none, for several
marches further south, which would conduct us to the Iwa branch of the
Khabili.
Khabang is a village of Geroongs, or shepherds, who pasture their
flocks on the hills and higher valleys during summer, and bring them
down to this elevation in winter: the ground was consequently infested
with a tick, equal in size to that so common in the bushes, and quite
as troublesome, but of a different species.
The temperature rose to 72°, and the black-bulb thermometer to 140°.
Magnolias and various almost tropical trees were common, and the
herbaceous vegetation was that of low elevations. Large sugar-cane
(_Saccharum_), palm (_Wallichia_), and wild plantains grew near the
river, and _Rhod. arboreum_ was very common on dry slopes of mica-slate
rocks, with the gorgeous and sweet-scented _Luculia gratissima._
Up the valley of the Tawa the view was very grand of a magnificent
rocky mountain called Sidingbah, bearing south-east by south, on a spur
of the Singalelah range that runs westerly, and forms the south flank
of the Tawa, and the north of the Khabili valleys. This mountain is
fully 12,000 feet high, crested with rock and ragged black forest,
which, on the north flank, extends to its base: to the eastward, the
bare ridges of Singalelah were patched with snow, below which they too
were clothed with black pines.
From the opposite side of the Tawa to Khabang (alt. 6,020 feet), I was,
during our march southwards, most fortunate in obtaining a splendid
view of Kinchinjunga (bearing north-east by north), with its
associates, rising over the dark mass of Singalelah, its flanks showing
like tier above tier of green glaciers: its distance was fully
twenty-five miles, and as only about 7000 feet or 8000 feet from its
summit were visible, and Kubra was foreshortened against it, its
appearance was not grand; added to which, its top was round and
hummocky, not broken into peaks, as when seen from the south and east.
Villages and cultivation became more frequent as we proceeded
southward, and our daily marches were up ridges, and down into deep
valleys, with feeders from the flanks of Sidingbah to the Tambur. We
passed through the village of Tchonboong, and camped at Yangyading
(4,100 feet), sighted Yamroop, a large village and military post to the
west of our route, crossed the Pangwa river, and reached the valley of
the Khabili. During this part of the journey, I did not once see the
Tambur river, though I was day after day marching only seven to ten
miles distant from it, so uneven is the country. The mountains around
Taptiatok, Mywa Guola, and Chingtam, were pointed out to me, but they
presented no recognizable feature.
I often looked for some slope, or strike of the slopes of the spurs, in
any one valley, or that should prevail through several, but could
seldom trace any, except on one or two occasions, at low elevations.
Looking here across the valleys, there was a tendency in the gentle
slopes of the spurs to have plane faces dipping north-east, and to be
bounded by a line of cliffs striking north-west, and facing the
south-east. In such arrangements, the upheaved cliffs may be supposed
to represent parallel lines of faults, dislocation, or rupture, but I
could never trace any secondary valleys at right angles to these. There
is no such uniformity of strike as to give to the rivers a zig-zag
course of any regularity, or one having any apparent dependence on a
prevailing arrangement of the rocks; for, though the strike of the
chlorite and clay-slate at elevations below 6000 feet along its course,
is certainly north-west, with a dip to north-east, the flexures of the
river, as projected on the map, deviate very widely from these
directions.
The valley of the Khabili is very grand, broad, open, and intersected
by many streams and cultivated spurs: the road from Yamroop to Sikkim,
once well frequented, runs up its north flank, and though it was long
closed we determined to follow and clear it.
On the 11th of December we camped near the village of Sablakoo (4,680
feet), and procured five days’ food, to last us as far as the first
Sikkim village. Thence we proceeded eastward up the valley, but
descending to the Iwa, an affluent of the Khabili, through a tropical
vegetation of _Pinus longifolia, Phyllanthus Emblica,_ dwarf date-palm,
etc.
Gneiss was here the prevailing rock, uniformly dipping north-east 20°,
and striking north-west. The same rock no doubt forms the mass
Sidingbah, which reared its head 8000 feet above the Iwa river, by
whose bed we camped at 3,780 feet. Sand-flies abounded, and were most
troublesome: troops of large monkeys were skipping about, and the whole
scene was thoroughly tropical; still, the thermometer fell to 38° in
the night, with heavy dew.
Though we passed numerous villages, I found unusual difficulty in
getting provision, and received none of the presents so uniformly
brought by the villagers to a stranger. I was not long in discovering,
to my great mortification, that these were appropriated by the Ghorkha
Havildar, who seemed to have profited by our many days of short
allowance, and diverted the current of hospitality from me to himself.
His coolies I saw groaning under heavy burdens, when those of my people
were light; and the truth only came out when he had the impudence to
attempt to impose a part of his coolies’ loads on mine, to enable the
former to carry more food, whilst he was pretending that he used every
exertion to procure me a scanty supply of rice with my limited stock of
money. I had treated this man and his soldiers with the utmost
kindness, even nursing them and clothing them from my own stock of
flannels, when sick and shivering amongst the snows. Though a high
caste Hindoo, and one who assumed Brahmin rank, he had, I found, no
objection to eat forbidden things in secret; and now that we were
travelling amongst Hindoos, his caste obtained him everything, while
money alone availed me. I took him roundly to task for his treachery,
which caused him secretly to throw away a leg of mutton he had
concealed; I also threatened to expose the humbug of his pretension to
caste, but it was then too late to procure more food. Having hitherto
much liked this man, and fully trusted him, I was greatly pained by his
conduct.
We proceeded east for three days, up the valley, through gloomy forests
of tropical trees below 5000 feet; and ascended to oaks and magnolias
at 6000 feet. The path was soon obstructed, and we had to tear and cut
our way, from 6000 to 10,000 feet, which took two days’ very hard work.
Ticks swarmed in the small bamboo jungle, and my body was covered with
these loathsome insects, which got into my bed and hair, and even
attached themselves to my eyelids during the night, when the constant
annoyance and irritation completely banished sleep. In the daytime they
penetrated my trousers, piercing to my body in many places, so that I
repeatedly took off as many as twelve at one time. It is indeed
marvellous how so large an insect can painlessly insert a stout barbed
proboscis, which requires great force to extract it, and causes severe
smarting in the operation. What the ticks feed upon in these humid
forests is a perfect mystery to me, for from 6000 to 9000 feet they
literally swarmed, where there was neither path nor animal life. They
were, however, more tolerable than a commoner species of parasite,
which I found it impossible to escape from, all classes of mountaineers
being infested with it.
On the 14th, after an arduous ascent through the pathless jungle, we
camped at 9,300 feet on a narrow spur, in a dense forest, amongst
immense loose blocks of gneiss. The weather was foggy and rainy, and
the wind cold. I ate the last supply of animal food, a miserable
starved pullet, with rice and Chili vinegar; my tea, sugar, and all
other superfluities having been long before exhausted.
On the following morning, we crossed the Islumbo pass over Singalelah
into Sikkim, the elevation being 11,000 feet. Above our camp the trees
were few and stunted, and we quickly emerged from the forest on a rocky
and grassy ridge, covered with withered _Saxifrages, Umbelliferæ,
Parnassia, Hypericum,_ etc. There were no pines on either side of the
pass; a very remarkable peculiarity of the damp mountains of Sikkim,
which I have elsewhere had occasion to notice: we had left _Pinus
longifolia_ (a far from common tree in these valleys) at 3000 feet in
the Tawa three days before, and ascended to 11,000 feet without passing
a coniferous tree of any kind, except a few yews, at 9000 feet, covered
with red berries.
The top of the pass was broad, grassy, and bushy with dwarf Bamboo,
Rose, and Berberry, in great abundance, covered with mosses and
lichens: it had been raining hard all the morning, and the vegetation
was coated with ice: a dense fog obscured everything, and a violent
south-east wind blew over the pass in our teeth. I collected some very
curious and beautiful mosses, putting these frozen treasures into my
box, in the form of exquisitely beautiful glass ornaments, or mosses
frosted with silver.
A few stones marked the boundary between Nepal and Sikkim, where I
halted for half an hour, and hung up my instruments: the temperature
was 32°.
We descended rapidly, proceeding eastward down the broad valley of the
Kulhait river, an affluent of the Great Rungeet; and as it had begun to
sleet and snow hard, we continued until we reached 6,400 feet before
camping.
On the following day we proceeded down the valley, and reached
habitations at 4000 feet: passing many villages and much cultivation,
we crossed the river, and ascended by 7 p.m., to the village of
Lingcham, just below the convent of Changachelling, very tired and
hungry. Bad weather had set in, and it was pitch dark and raining hard
when we arrived; but the Kajee, or head man, had sent out a party with
torches to conduct us, and he gave us a most hospitable reception,
honoured us with a salute of musketry, and brought abundance of milk,
eggs, fowls, plantains, and Murwa beer. Plenty of news was awaiting me
here, and a messenger with letters was three marches further north, at
Yoksun, waiting my expected return over the Kanglanamo pass. Dr.
Campbell, I was told, had left Dorjiling; and was _en route_ to meet
the Rajah at Bhomsong on the Teesta river, where no European had ever
yet been; and as the Sikkim authorities had for sixteen years steadily
rejected every overture for a friendly interview, and even refused to
allow the agent of the Governor-General to enter their dominions, it
was evident that grave doings were pending. I knew that Dr. Campbell
had long used every exertion to bring the Sikkim Rajah to a friendly
conference, without having to force his way into the country for the
purpose, but in vain. It will hardly be believed that though this
chief’s dominions were redeemed by us from the Nepalese and given back
to him; though we had bound ourselves by a treaty to support him on his
throne, and to defend him against the Nepalese on the west, the Bhutan
people on the east, and the Tibetans on the north; and though the terms
of the treaty stipulated for free intercourse, mutual protection, and
friendship; the Sikkim authorities had hitherto been allowed to
obstruct all intercourse, and in every way to treat the
Governor-General’s agent and the East India Company with contempt. An
affectation of timidity, mistrust, and ignorance was assumed for the
purpose of deception, and as a cloak for every insult and resistance to
the terms of our treaty, and it was quoted by the Government in answer
to every remonstrance on the part of their resident agent at Dorjiling.
On the following morning the Kajee waited on me with a magnificent
present of a calf, a kid, fowls, eggs, rice, oranges, plantains,
egg-apples, Indian corn, yams, onions, tomatos, parsley, fennel,
turmeric, rancid butter, milk, and, lastly, a coolie-load of fermenting
millet-seeds, wherewith to make the favourite Murwa beer. In the
evening two lads arrived from Dorjiling, who had been sent a week
beforehand by my kind and thoughtful friend, Mr. Hodgson, with
provisions and money.
The valley of the Kulhait is one o£ the finest in Sikkim, and it is
accordingly the site of two of the oldest and richest conventual
establishments. Its length is sixteen miles, from the Islumbo pass to
the Great Rungeet, for ten of which it is inhabited, the villages being
invariably on long meridional spurs that project north and south from
either flank; they are about 2000 feet above the river, and from 4,500
to 5000 feet above the sea. Except where these spurs project, the
flanks of the valley are very steep, the mountains rising to 7000 or
8000 feet.
Looking from any spur, up or down the valley, five or six others might
be seen on each side of the river, at very nearly the same average
level, all presenting great uniformity of contour, namely, a gentle
slope towards the centre of the valley, and then an abrupt descent to
the river. They were about a quarter of a mile broad at the widest, and
often narrower, and a mile or so long; some parts of their surfaces and
sides were quite flat, and occasionally occupied by marshes or ponds.
Cultivation is almost confined to these spurs, and is carried on both
on their summits and steep flanks; between every two is a very steep
gulley and water-course. The timber has long since been either wholly
or partially cleared from the tops, but, to a great extent, still
clothes their flanks and the intervening gorges. I have been particular
in describing these spurs, because it is impossible to survey them
without ascribing their comparative uniformity of level to the action
of water. Similar ones are characteristic features of the valleys of
Sikkim between 2000 and 8000 feet, and are rendered conspicuous by
being always sites for villages and cultivation: the soil is a
vegetable mould, over a deep stratum of red clay.
I am far from supposing that any geologically recent action of the sea
has levelled these spurs; but as the great chain of the Himalaya has
risen from the ocean, and as every part of it has been subjected to
sea-action, it is quite conceivable that intervals of rest during the
periods of elevation or submergence would effect their levelling. In a
mountain mass so tumbled as is that of Sikkim, any level surface, or
approach to it, demands study; and when, as in the Kulhait valley, we
find several similar spurs with comparatively flat tops, to occupy
about the same level, it is necessary to look for some levelling cause.
The action of denudation is still progressing with astonishing
rapidity, under an annual fall of from 100 to 150 inches of rain; but
its tendency is to obliterate all such phenomena, and to give sharp,
rugged outlines to these spurs, in spite of the conservative effects of
vegetation.
The weather at Lingcham was gloomy, cold, and damp, with much rain and
fog, and the mean temperature (45·25°) was cold for the elevation
(4,860 feet): 52·5° was the highest temperature observed, and 39° the
lowest.
A letter from Dr. Campbell reached me three days after my arrival,
begging me to cross the country to the Teesta river, and meet him at
Bhomsong, on its west bank, where he was awaiting my arrival. I
therefore left on the 20th of December, accompanied by my friend the
Kajee, who was going to pay his respects to the Rajah. He was
constantly followed by a lad, carrying a bamboo of Murwa beer slung
round his neck, with which he kept himself always groggy. His dress was
thoroughly Lepcha, and highly picturesque, consisting of a very
broad-brimmed round-crowned bamboo-platted hat, scarlet jacket, and
blue-striped cloth shirt, bare feet, long knife, bow and quiver, rings
and earrings, and a long pigtail. He spoke no Hindoostanee, but was
very communicative through my interpreters.
Leaving the Lingcham spur, we passed steep cliffs of mica and schist,
covered with brushwood and long grass, about 1000 feet above which the
Changachelling convent is perched. Crossing a torrent, we came to the
next village, on the spur of Kurziuk, where I was met by a deputation
of women, sent by the Lamas of Changachelling, bearing enormous loads
of oranges, rice, milk, butter, ghee, and the everflowing Murwa beer.
The villagers had erected a shady bower for me to rest under, of leaves
and branches, and had fitted up a little bamboo stage, on which to
squat cross-legged as they do, or to hang my legs from, if I preferred:
after conducting me to this, the parties advanced and piled their
cumbrous presents on the ground, bowed, and retired; they were
succeeded by the beer-carrier, who plunged a clean drinking-tube to the
bottom of the steaming bamboo jug (described at p. 175), and held it to
my mouth, then placing it by my side, he bowed and withdrew. Nothing
can be more fascinating than the simple manners of these kind people,
who really love hospitality for its own sake, and make the stranger
feel himself welcome. Just now too, the Durbar had ordered every
attention to be paid me; and I hardly passed a village however small,
without receiving a present, or a cottage, where beer was not offered.
This I found a most grateful beverage; and of the occasional rests
under leafy screens during a hot day’s march, and sips at the bamboo
jug, I shall ever retain a grateful remembrance. Happily the liquor is
very weak, and except by swilling, as my friend the Kajee did, it would
be impossible to get fuddled by it.
At Kurziuk I was met by a most respectable Lepcha, who, as a sort of
compliment, sent his son to escort us to the next village and spur of
Pemiongchi, to reach which we crossed another gorge, of which the
situation and features were quite similar to those of Kurziuk and
Lingcham.
The Pemiongchi and Changachelling convents and temples stand a few
miles apart, on the ridge forming the north flank of the Kulhait
valley; and as they will be described hereafter, I now only allude to
the village, which is fully 1000 feet below the convent, and large and
populous.
At Pemiongchi a superior Lama met me with another overwhelming present:
he was a most jolly fat monk, shaven and girdled, and dressed in a
scarlet gown: my Lepchas kotowed to him, and he blessed them by the
laying on of hands.
[Illustration: Pemiongchi Goompa and chaits]
There is a marsh on this spur, full of the common English _Acorus
Calamus,_ or sweet-flag, whose roots being very aromatic, are used in
griping disorders of men and cattle. Hence we descended suddenly to the
Great Rungeet, which we reached at its junction with the Kulhait: the
path was very steep and slippery, owing to micaceous rocks, and led
along the side of an enormous Mendong,[93] which ran down the hill for
several hundred yards, and had a large chait at each end, with several
smaller ones at intervals. Throughout its length were innumerable
inscriptions of “Om Mani Padmi om,” with well carved figures of Boodh
in his many incarnations, besides Lamas, etc. At the lower end was a
great flat area, on which are burnt the bodies of Sikkim people of
consequence: the poorer people are buried, the richer burned, and their
ashes scattered or interred, but not in graves proper, of which there
are none. Nor are there any signs of Lepcha interment throughout
Sikkim; though chaits are erected to the memory of the departed, they
have no necessary connection with the remains, and generally none at
all. Corpses in Sikkim are never cut to pieces and thrown into lakes,
or exposed on hills for the kites and crows to devour, as is the case
in Tibet.
[93] This remarkable structure, called the Kaysing Mendong, is 200
yards long, 10 feet high, and 6 or 8 feet broad: it is built of flat,
slaty stones, and both faces are covered with inscribed slates, of
which there are upwards of 700, and the inscriptions, chiefly “Om
Mani,” etc., are in both the Uchen and Lencha Ranja characters of
Tibet. A tall stone, nine feet high, covered also with inscriptions,
terminates it at the lower end.
We passed some curious masses of crumpled chlorite slate, presenting
deep canals or furrows, along which a demon once drained all the water
from the Pemiongchi spur, to the great annoyance of the villagers: the
Lamas, however, on choosing this as a site for their temples, easily
confounded the machinations of the evil spirit, who, in the eyes of the
simple Lepchas, was answerable for all the mischief.
I crossed the Great Rungeet at 1840 feet above the sea, where its bed
was twenty yards in width; a rude bridge, composed of two culms of
bamboo and a handrail, conducted me to the other side, where we camped
(on the east bank) in a thick tropical jungle. In the evening I walked
down the banks of the river, which flowed in a deep gorge, cumbered
with enormous boulders of granite, clay-slate, and mica-slate; the
rocks _in situ_ were all of the latter description, highly inclined,
and much dislocated. Some of the boulders were fully ten feet in
diameter, permeated and altered very much by granite veins which had
evidently been injected when molten, and had taken up angular masses of
the chlorite which remained, as it were, suspended in the veins.
It is not so easy to account for the present position of these blocks
of granite, a rock not common at elevations below 10,000 feet. They
have been transported from a considerable distance in the interior of
the lofty valley to the north, and have descended not less than 8000
feet, and travelled fully fifteen miles in a straight line, or perhaps
forty along the river bed. It may be supposed that moraines have
transported them to 8000 feet (the lowest limit of apparent moraines),
and the power of river water carried them further; if so, the rivers
must have been of much greater volume formerly than they are now.
Our camp was on a gravel flat, like those of the Nepal valleys, about
sixty feet above the river; its temperature was 52°, which felt cool
when bathing.
From the river we proceeded west, following a steep and clayey ascent
up the end of a very long spur, from the lofty mountain range called
Mungbreu, dividing the Great Rungeet from the Teesta. We ascended by a
narrow path, accomplishing 2,500 feet in an hour and a quarter, walking
slowly but steadily, without resting; this I always found a heavy pull
in a hot climate.
At about 4000 feet above the sea, the spur became more open and flat,
like those of the Kulhait valley, with alternate slopes and comparative
flats: from this elevation the view north, south, and west, was very
fine; below us flowed the river, and a few miles up it was the conical
wooded hill of Tassiding, rising abruptly from a fork of the deep river
gorge, crowned with its curious temples and mendongs, and bristling
with chaits: on it is the oldest monastery in Sikkim, occupying a
singularly picturesque and prominent position. North of this spur, and
similar to it, lay that of Raklang, with the temple and monastery of
the same name, at about this elevation. In front, looking west, across
the Great Rungeet, were the monasteries of Changachelling and
Pemiongchi, perched aloft; and south of these were the flat-topped
spurs of the Kulhait valley, with their villages, and the great mendong
which I had passed on the previous day, running like a white line down
the spur. To the north, beyond Tassiding, were two other monasteries,
Doobdee and Sunnook, both apparently placed on the lower wooded flanks
of Kinchinjunga; whilst close by was Dholing, the seventh religious
establishment now in sight.
We halted at a good wooden house to refresh ourselves with Murwa beer,
where I saw a woman with cancer in the face, an uncommon complaint in
this country. I here bought a little black puppy, to be my future
companion in Sikkim: he was of a breed between the famous Tibet mastiff
and the common Sikkim hunting-dog, which is a variety of the sorry race
called Pariah in the plains. Being only a few weeks old, he looked a
mere bundle of black fur; and I carried him off, for he could not walk.
We camped at the village of Lingdam (alt. 5,550 feet), occupying a
flat, and surrounded by extensive pools of water (for this country)
containing _Acorus, Potamogeton,_ and duckweed. Such ponds I have often
met with on these terraces, and they are very remarkable, not being
dammed in by any conspicuous barrier, but simply occupying depressions
in the surface, from which, as I have repeatedly observed, the land
dips rapidly to the valleys below.
This being the high-road from Tumloong or Sikkim Durbar (the capital,
and Rajah’s residence) to the numerous monasteries which I had seen, we
passed many Lamas and monks on their way home from Tumloong, where they
had gone to be present at the marriage of the Tupgain Lama, the eldest
son of the Rajah. A dispensation having previously been procured from
Lhassa, this marriage had been effected by the Lamas, in order to
counteract the efforts of the Dewan, who sought to exercise an undue
influence over the Rajah and his family. The Tupgain Lama having only
spiritual authority, and being bound to celibacy, the temporal
authority devolved on the second son, who was heir apparent of Sikkim;
he, however, having died, an illegitimate son of the Rajah was favoured
by the Dewan as heir apparent. The bride was brought from Tibet, and
the marriage party were feasted for eighteen days at the Rajah’s
expense. All the Lamas whom I met were clad in red robes, with girdles,
and were shaven, with bare feet and heads, or mitred; they wore
rosaries of onyx, turquoise, quartz, lapis lazuli, coral, glass, amber,
or wood, especially yellow berberry and sandal-wood: some had staves,
and one a trident like an eel-fork, on a long staff, an emblem of the
Hindoo Trinity, called Trisool Mahadeo, which represents Brahma, Siva,
and Vishnu, in Hindoo; and Boodh, Dhurma, and Sunga, in Boodhist
theology. All were on foot, indeed ponies are seldom used in this
country; the Lamas, however, walked with becoming gravity and
indifference to all around them.
The Kajee waited upon me in the evening; full of importance, having
just received a letter from his Rajah, which he wished to communicate
to me in private; so I accompanied him to a house close by, where he
was a guest, when the secret came out, that his highness was dreadfully
alarmed at my coming with the two Ghorka Sepoys, whom I accordingly
dismissed.
The house was of the usual Bhoteea form, of wood, well built on posts,
one-storied, containing a single apartment hung round with bows,
quivers, shields, baskets of rice, and cornucopias of Indian corn, the
handsomest and most generous looking of all the Cerealia. The whole
party were deep in a carouse on Murwa beer, and I saw the operation of
making it. The millet-seed is moistened, and ferments for two days:
sufficient for a day’s allowance is then put into a vessel of
wicker-work, lined with India-rubber to make it water-tight; and
boiling water is poured on it with a ladle of gourd, from a huge iron
cauldron that stands all day over the fire. The fluid, when quite
fresh, tastes like negus of Cape sherry, rather sour. At this season
the whole population are swilling, whether at home or travelling, and
heaps of the red-brown husks are seen by the side of all the paths.
[Illustration: Sikkim Lamas with praying cylinder and dorje; the
lateral figures are monks or gylongs]