Camp on Zemu river—Scenery—Falling rocks—Tukcham mountain—Height of
glaciers—Botany—Gigantic rhubarb—Insects—Storm—Temperature of
rivers—Behaviour of Lachen Phipun—Hostile conduct of Bhoteeas—View from
mountains above camp—Descend to Zemu Samdong—Vegetation—Letters from
Dorjiling—Arrival of Singtam Soubah—Presents from Rajah—Parties
collecting Arum-roots—Insects—Ascend Lachen river—Thakya-zong—Tallum
Samdong
village—Cottages—Mountains—Plants—Entomology—Weather—Halo—Diseases—
Conduct of Singtam Soubah—His character and illness—Agrees to take me
to Kongra Lama—Tungu—Appearance of country—Houses—Poisoning by
arum-roots—Yaks and calves—Tibet ponies—Journey to Kongra Lama—Tibetan
tents—Butter, curds, and churns—Hospitality—Kinchinjhow and
Chomiomo—Magnificent Scenery—Reach Kongra Lama Pass.
My little tent was pitched in a commanding situation, on a rock fifty
feet above the Zemu, overlooking the course of that river to its
junction with the Thlonok. The descent of the Zenlu in one thousand
feet is more precipitous than that of any other river of its size with
which I am acquainted in Sikkim, yet immediately above my camp it was
more tranquil than at any part of its course onwards to the plains of
India, whether as the Zemu, Lachen or Teesta. On the west bank a fine
mountain rose in steep ridges and shrubby banks to 15,000 feet; on the
east a rugged cliff towered above the stream, and from this, huge
masses of rock were ever and anon precipitated into the torrent, with a
roar that repeatedly spread consternation amongst us. During rains
especially, and at night, when the chilled atmospheric currents of air
descend, and the sound is not dissipated as in the day-time, the noise
of these falls is sufficiently alarming. My tent was pitched near the
base of the cliff, and so high above the river, that I had thought it
beyond the reach of danger; but one morning I found that a large
fragment of granite had been hurled during the night to my very door,
my dog having had a very narrow escape. To what depth the accumulation
at the base of this cliff may reach, I had no means of judging, but the
rapid slope of the river-bed is mainly due to this, and to old moraines
at the mouth of the valley below. I have seen few finer sights than the
fall of these stupendous blocks into the furious torrent, along which
they are carried amid feathery foam for many yards before settling to
rest.
Across the Thlonok to the southwards, rose the magnificent mountain of
Tukcham, but I only once caught a glimpse of its summit, which even
then clouded over before I could get my instruments adjusted for
ascertaining its height. Its top is a sharp cone, surrounded by rocky
shoulders, that rise from a mass of snow. Its eastern slope of 8000
feet is very rapid (about 38°) from its base at the Zemu river to its
summit.
Glaciers in the north-west Himalaya descend to 11,000 feet; but I could
not discover any in these valleys even so low as 14,000 feet, though at
this season extensive snowbeds remain unmelted at but little above
10,000 feet. The foot of the stupendous glacier filling the broad head
of the Thlonok is certainly not below 14,000 feet; though being
continuous with the perpetual snow (or névé) of the summit of
Kinchinjunga, it must have 14,000 feet of ice, in perpendicular height,
to urge it forwards.
All my attempts to advance up the Zemu were fruitlesss and a snow
bridge by which I had hoped to cross to the opposite bank was carried
away by the daily swelling river, while the continued bad weather
prevented any excursions for days together. Botany was my only
resource, and as vegetation was advancing rapidly under the influence
of the southerly winds, I had a rich harvest: for though _Compositæ,
Pedicularis,_ and a few more of the finer Himalayan plants flower
later, June is still the most glorious month for show.
Rhododendrons occupy the most prominent place, clothing the mountain
slopes with a deep green mantle glowing with bells of brilliant
colours; of the eight or ten species growing here, every bush was
loaded with as great a profusion of blossoms as are their northern
congeners in our English gardens. Primroses are next, both in beauty
and abundance; and they are accompanied by yellow cowslips, three feet
high, purple polyanthus, and pink large-flowered dwarf kinds nestling
in the rocks, and an exquisitely beautiful blue miniature species,
whose blossoms sparkle like sapphires on the turf. Gentians begin to
unfold their deep azure bells, aconites to rear their tall blue spikes,
and fritillaries and _Meconopsis_ burst into flower. On the black rocks
the gigantic rhubarb forms pale pyramidal towers a yard high, of
inflated reflexed bracts, that conceal the flowers, and over-lapping
one another like tiles, protect them from the wind and rain: a whorl of
broad green leaves edged with red spreads on the ground at the base of
the plant, contrasting in colour with the transparent bracts, which are
yellow, margined with pink. This is the handsomest herbaceous plant in
Sikkim: it is called “Tchuka,” and the acid stems are eaten both raw
and boiled; they are hollow and full of pure water: the root resembles
that of the medicinal rhubarb, but it is spongy and inert; it attains a
length of four feet, and grows as thick as the arm. The dried leaves
afford a substitute for tobacco; a smaller kind of rhubarb is however
more commonly used in Tibet for this purpose; it is called “Chula.”
The elevation being 12,080 feet, I was above the limit of trees, and
the ground was covered with many kinds of small-flowered honeysuckles,
berberry, and white rose.[174]
[174] Besides these I found a prickly _Aralia,_ maple, two currants,
eight or nine rhododendrons, many _Sedums, Rhodiola,_ white
_Clematis,_ red-flowered cherry, birch, willow, _Viburnum,_ juniper, a
few ferns, two _Andromedas, Menziesia,_ and _Spircæa._ And in addition
to the herbs mentioned above, may be enumerated _Parnassia,_ many
Saxifrages, _Soldanella, Draba,_ and various other _Cruciferæ,
Nardostachys,_ (spikenard), _Epilobium, Thalictrum,_ and very many
other genera, almost all typical of the Siberian, North European, and
Arctic floras.
I saw no birds, and of animals only an occasional muskdeer. Insects
were scarce, and quite different from what I had seen before; chiefly
consisting of _Phryganea_ (Mayfly) and some _Carabidæ_ (an order that
is very scarce in the Himalaya); with various moths, chiefly
_Geometræ._
The last days of June (as is often the case) were marked by violent
storms, and for two days my tent proved no protection; similar weather
prevailed all over India, the barometer falling very low. I took horary
observations of the barometer in the height of the storm on the 30th:
the tide was very small indeed (·024 inch, between 9.50 a.m. and 4
p.m.), and the thermometer ranged between 47° and 57·8°, between 7 a.m.
and midnight. Snow fell abundantly as low as 13,000 feet, and the
rivers were much swollen, the size and number of the stones they rolled
along producing a deafening turmoil. Only 3·7 inches of rain fell
between the 23rd of June and the 2nd of July; whilst 21 inches fell at
Dorjiling, and 6·7 inches at Calcutta. During the same period the mean
temperature was 48°; extremes, 62°/36.5°. The humidity was nearly at
saturation-point, the wind southerly, very raw and cold, and drizzling
rain constantly fell. A comparison of thirty observations with
Dorjiling gave a difference of 14° temperature, which is at the rate of
1° for every 347 feet of ascent.[175]
[175] Forty-seven observations, comparative with Calcutta, gave 34·8°
difference, and if 5.5° of temperature be deducted for northing in
latitude, the result is 1° for every 412 feet of ascent. My
observations at the junction of the rivers alt. 10,850 feet), during
the early part of the mouth, gave 1° to 304 feet, as the result of
twenty-four observations with Dorjiling, and 1° to 394 feet, from
seventy-four observations with Calcutta.
The temperature of these rivers varies extremely at different parts of
their course, depending on that of their affluents. The Teesta is
always cool in summer (where its bed is below 2000 feet), its
temperature being 20° below that of the air; whereas in mid-winter,
when there is less cloud, and the snows are not melting, it is only a
few degrees colder than the air.[176] At this season, in descending
from 12,000 feet to 1000 feet, its temperature does not rise 10°,
though that of the air rises 30° or 40°. It is a curious fact, that the
temperature of the northern feeders of the Teesta, in some parts of
their course, rises with the increasing elevation! Of this the Zemu
afforded a curious example: during my stay at its junction with the
Thlonok it was 46°, or 6° warmer than that river; at 1,100 feet higher
it was 48°, and at 1,100 feet higher still it was 49°! These
observations were repeated in different weeks, and several times on the
same day, both in ascending and descending, and always with the same
result: they told, as certainly as if I had followed the river to its
source, that it rose in a drier and comparatively sunny climate, and
flowed amongst little snowed mountains.
[176] During my sojourn at Bhomsong in mid-winter of 1848 (see v. i.
p. 305), the mean temperature of the Teesta was 51°, and of the air
52·3°; at that elevation the river water rarely exceeds 60° at
midsummer. Between 4000 feet and 300 (the plains) its mean temperature
varies about 10° between January and July; at 6000 feet it varies from
55° to 43° during the same period; and at 10,000 feet it freezes at
the edges in winter and rises to 50° in July.
Meanwhile, the Lachen Phipun continued to threaten us, and I had to
send back some of the more timorous of my party. On the 28th of June
fifty men arrived at the Thlonok, and turned my people out of the shed
at the junction of the rivers, together with the plants they were
preserving, my boards, papers, and utensils. The boys came to me
breathless, saying that there were Tibetan soldiers amongst them, who
declared that I was in Cheen, and that they were coming on the
following morning to make a clean sweep of my goods, and drive me back
to Dorjiling. I had little fear for myself, but was anxious with
respect to my collections: it was getting late in the day, and raining,
and I had no mind to go down and expose myself to the first brunt of
their insolence, which I felt sure a night of such weather would
materially wash away. Meepo was too frightened, but Nimbo, my Bhotan
coolie Sirdar, volunteered to go, with two stout fellows; and he
accordingly brought away my plants and papers, having held a parley
with the enemy, who, as I suspected, were not Tibetans. The best news
he brought was, that they were half clad and without food; the worst,
that they swaggered and bullied: he added, with some pride, that he
gave them as good as he got, which I could readily believe, Nimbo being
really a resolute fellow,[177] and accomplished in Tibet slang.
[177] In East Nepal he drew his knife on a Ghorka sepoy; and in the
following winter was bold enough to make his escape in chains from
Tumloong.
On the following morning it rained harder than ever, and the wind was
piercingly cold. My timid Lepchas huddled behind my tent, which, from
its position, was only to be stormed in front. I dismantled my little
observatory, and packed up the instruments, tied my dog, Kinchin, to
one of the tent-pegs, placed a line of stones opposite the door, and
seated myself on my bed on the ground, with my gun beside me.
The dog gave tongue as twenty or thirty people defiled up the glen, and
gathered in front of my tent; they were ragged Bhoteeas, with bare
heads and legs, in scanty woollen garments sodden with rain, which
streamed off their shaggy hair, and furrowed their sooty faces: their
whole appearance recalled to my mind Dugald Dalgetty’s friends, the
children of the mist.
They appeared nonplussed at seeing no one with me, and at my paying no
attention to them, whilst the valiant Kinchin effectually scared them
from the tent-door. When they requested a parley, I sent the
interpreter to say that I would receive three men, and that only
provided all the rest were sent down immediately; this, as I
anticipated, was acceded to at once, and there remained only the Lachen
Phipun and his brother. Without waiting to let him speak, I rated him
soundly, saying, that I was ready to leave the spot when he could
produce any proof of my being in Bhote (or Cheen), which he knew well I
was not; that, since my arrival at Lachen, he had told me nothing but
lies, and had contravened every order, both of the Rajah and of Tchebu
Lama. I added, that I had given him and his people kindness and
medicine, their return was bad, and he must go about his business at
once, having, as I knew, no food, and I having none for him. He behaved
very humbly throughout, and finally took himself off much discomfited,
and two days afterwards sent men to offer to assist me in moving my
things.
The first of July was such a day as I had long waited for to obtain a
view, and I ascended the mountain west of my camp, to a point where
water boiling at 185·7° (air 42°), gave an elevation of 14,914 feet. On
the top of the range, about 1000 feet above this, there was no snow on
the eastern exposures, except in hollows, but on the west slopes it lay
in great fields twenty or thirty feet thick; while to the north, the
mountains all appeared destitute of snow, with grassy flanks and rugged
tops.
Drizzling mist, which had shrouded Tukcham all the morning, soon
gathered on this mountain, and prevented any prospect from the highest
point reached; but on the ascent I had an excellent view up the Zemu,
which opened into a broad grassy valley, where I saw with the glass
some wooden sheds, but no cattle or people. To reach these, however,
involved crossing the river, which was now impossible; and I
reluctantly made up my mind to return on the morrow to Zemu Samdong,
and thence try the other river.
On my descent to the Thlonok, I found that the herbaceous plants on the
terraces had grown fully two feet during the fortnight, and now
presented almost a tropical luxuriance and beauty. Thence I reached
Zemu Samdong in one day, and found the vegetation there even more gay
and beautiful: the gigantic lily was in full flower, and scenting the
air, with the lovely red rose, called “Chirring” by the Tibetans.
_Neillia_ was blossoming profusely at my old camping-ground, to which I
now returned after a month’s absence.
Soon after my arrival I received letters from Dr. Campbell, who had
strongly and repeatedly represented to the Rajah his opinion of the
treatment I was receiving; and this finally brought an explicit answer,
to the effect that his orders had been full and peremptory that I
should be supplied with provisions, and safely conducted to the
frontier. With these came letters on the Rajah’s part from Tchebu Lama
to the Lachen Phipun, ordering him to take me to the pass, but not
specifying its position; fortunately, however, Dr. Campbell sent me a
route, which stated the pass to be at Kongra Lama, several marches
beyond this, and in the barren country of Tibet.
On the 5th of July the Singtam Soubah arrived from Chola (the Rajah’s
summer residence): he was charged to take me to the frontier, and
brought letters from his highness, as well as a handsome present,
consisting of Tibet cloth, and a dress of China silk brocaded with
gold: the Ranee also sent me a basket of Lhassa sweetmeats, consisting
of Sultana raisins from Bokhara, sliced and dried apricots from Lhassa,
and _Diospyros_ fruit from China (called “Gubroon” by the Tibetans).
The Soubah wanted to hurry me on to the frontier and back at once,
being no doubt instigated to do so by the Dewan’s party, and by his
having no desire to spend much time in the dreary lofty regions I
wanted to explore. I positively refused, however, to start until more
supplies arrived, except he used his influence to provide me with food;
and as he insisted that the frontier was at Tallum Samdong, only one
march up the Lachen, I foresaw that this move was to be but one step
forward, though in the right direction. He went forward to Tallum at
once, leaving me to follow.
The Lamteng people had all migrated beyond that point to Tungu, where
they were pasturing their cattle: I sent thither for food, and procured
a little meal at a very high price, a few fowls and eggs; the messenger
brought back word that Tungu was in Tibet, and that the villagers
ignored Kongra Lama. A large piece of yak-flesh being brought for sale,
I purchased it; but it proved the toughest meat I ever ate, being no
doubt that of an animal that had succumbed to the arduous duties of a
salt-carrier over the passes: at this season, however, when the calves
are not a month old, it was in vain to expect better.
Large parties of women and children were daily passing my tent from
Tungu, to collect arum-roots at the Thlonok, all with baskets at their
backs, down to rosy urchins of six years old: they returned after
several days, their baskets neatly lined with broad rhododendron
leaves, and full of a nauseous-looking yellow acid pulp, which told
forcibly of the extreme poverty of the people. The children were very
fair; indeed the young Tibetan is as fair as an English brunette,
before his perennial coat of smoke and dirt has permanently stained his
face, and it has become bronzed and wrinkled by the scorching sun and
rigorous climate of these inhospitable countries. Children and women
were alike decked with roses, and all were good-humoured and pleasant,
behaving with great kindness to one another, and unaffected politeness
to me.
During my ten days’ stay at Zemu Samdong, I formed a large collection
of insects, which was in great part destroyed by damp: many were new,
beautiful, and particularly interesting, from belonging to types whose
geographical distribution is analogous to that of the vegetation. The
caterpillar of the swallow-tail butterfly (_Papilio Machaon_), was
common, feeding on umbelliferous plants, as in England; and a _Sphynx_
(like _S. Euphorbiæ_) was devouring the euphorbias; the English
_Cynthia Cardui_ (painted-lady butterfly) was common, as were
“sulphurs,” “marbles,” _Pontia_ (whites), “blues,” and _Thecla,_ of
British aspect but foreign species. Amongst these, tropical forms were
rare, except one fine black swallow-tail. Of moths, _Noctuæ_ and
_Geometræ_ abounded, with many flies and _Tipulæ. Hymenoptera_ were
scarce, except a yellow _Ophion,_ which lays its eggs in the
caterpillars above-mentioned. Beetles were most rare, and (what is
remarkable) the wood-borers (_longicorns_ and _Curculio_) particularly
so. A large _Telephora_ was very common, and had the usual propensity
of its congeners for blood; _lamellicorns_ were also abundant.
On the 11th of July five coolies arrived with rice: they had been
twenty days on the road, and had been obliged to make great detours,
the valley being in many places impassable. They brought me a parcel of
English letters; and I started up the Lachen on the following day, with
renewed spirits and high hopes. The road first crossed the Zemu and the
spur beyond, and then ascended the west bank of the Lachen, a furious
torrent for five or six miles, during which it descends 1000 feet, in a
chasm from which rise lofty black pine-clad crags, topped by snowy
mountains, 14,000 to 16,000 feet high. One remarkable mass of rock, on
the east bank, is called “Sakya-zong” (or the abode of Sakya, often
pronounced Thakya, one of the Boodhist Trinity); at its base a fine
cascade falls into the river.
Above 11,000 feet the valley expands remarkably, the mountains recede,
become less wooded, and more grassy, while the stream is suddenly less
rapid, meandering in a broader bed, and bordered by marshes, covered
with _Carex, Blysmus,_ dwarf Tamarisk, and many kinds of yellow and red
_Pedicularis,_ both tall and beautiful. There are far fewer
rhododendrons here than in the damper Zemu valley at equal elevations,
and more Siberian, or dry country types of vegetation, as _Astragali_
of several kinds, _Habenaria, Epipactis,_ dandelion, and a caraway,
whose stems (called in Tibet “Gzira”) are much sought for as a
condiment.[178] The Singtam Soubah and Lachen Phipun received me at the
bridge (Samdong), at Tallum, and led me across the river (into Cheen
they affirmed) to a pretty green sward, near some gigantic gneiss
boulders, where I camped, close by the river, and 11,480 feet above the
sea.
[178] _Umbelliferæ_ abound here; with sage, _Ranunculus, Anemone,_
Aconites, _Halenia,_ Gentians, _Panax, Euphrasia,_ speedwell,
_Prunella vulgaris,_ thistles, bistort, _Parnassia,_ purple orchis,
_Prenanthes,_ and _Lactuca._ The woody plants of this region are
willows, birch, _Cotoneaster,_ maple, three species of _Viburnum,_
three of _Spiræa, Vaccinium, Aralia, Deutzia, Philadelphus,_
rhododendrons, two junipers, silver fir, larch, three honeysuckles,
_Neillia,_ and a _Pieris,_ whose white blossoms are so full of honey
as to be sweet and palatable.
The village of Tallum consists of a few wretched stone huts, placed in
a broad part of the valley, which is swampy, and crossed by several
ancient moraines, which descend from the gulleys on the east
flank.[179] The cottages are from four to six feet high, without
windows, and consist of a single apartment, containing neither table,
chair, stool, nor bed; the inmates huddle together amid smoke, filth,
and darkness, and sleep on a plank; and their only utensils are a
bamboo churn, copper, bamboo, and earthenware vessels, for milk,
butter, etc.
[179] I have elsewhere noticed that in Sikkim, the ancient moraines
above 9000 feet are almost invariably deposited from valleys opening
to the westward.
Grassy or stony mountains slope upwards, at an angle of 20°,[180] from
these flats to 15,000 feet, but no snow is visible, except on
Kinchinjhow and Chomiomo, about fifteen miles up the valley. Both these
are flat-topped, and dazzlingly white, rising into small peaks, and
precipitous on all sides; they are grand, bold, isolated masses, quite
unlike the ordinary snowy mountains in form, and far more imposing even
than Kinchinjunga, though not above 22,000 feet in elevation.
[180] At Lamteng and up the Zemu the slopes are 40° and 50°, giving a
widely different aspect to the valleys.
Herbaceous plants are much more numerous here than in any other part of
Sikkim; and sitting at my tent-door, I could, without rising from the
ground, gather forty-three plants,[181] of which all but two belonged
to English genera. In the rich soil about the cottages were crops of
dock, shepherd’s-purse, _Thlaspi arvense, Cynoglossum_ of two kinds
(one used as a pot-herb), balsams, nettle, _Galeopsis,_ mustard,
radish, and turnip. On the neighbouring hills, which I explored up to
15,000 feet, I found many fine plants, partaking more or less of the
Siberian type, of which _Corydalis, Leguminosæ, Artemisia,_ and
_Pedicularis,_ are familiar instances. I gathered upwards of 200
species, nearly all belonging to north European genera. Twenty-five
were woody shrubs above three feet high, and six were ferns;[182]
sedges were in great profusion, amongst them three of British kinds:
seven or eight were _Orchideæ,_ including a fine _Cypripedium._
[181] In England thirty is, on the average, the equivalent number of
plants, which in favourable localities I have gathered in an equal
space. In both cases many are seedlings of short-lived annuals, and in
neither is the number a test of the luxuriance of the vegetation; it
but shows the power which the different species exert in their
struggle to obtain a place.
[182] _Cryptogramma crispa, Davallia,_ two _Aspidia,_ and two
_Polypodia._ I gathered ten at the same elevation, in the damper Zemu
valley (see p. 49, note). I gathered in this valley a new species of
the remarkable European genus _Struthiopteris,_ which has not been
found elsewhere in the Himalaya.
The entomology of Tallum, like its botany, was Siberian, Arctic types
occurring at lower elevations than in the wetter parts of Sikkim. Of
beetles the honey-feeding ones prevailed, with European forms of others
that inhabit yak-droppings.[183] Bees were common, both _Bombus_ and
_Andræna,_ but there were no wasps, and but few ants. Grasshoppers and
other _Orthoptera_ were rare, as were _Hemiptera_; _Tipula_ was the
common dipterous insect, with a small sand-fly: there were neither
leeches, mosquitos, ticks, nor midges. Pigeons, red-legged crows, and
hawks were the common birds; with a few waders in the marshes.
[183] As _Aphodius_ and _Geotrupes._ Predaceous genera were very rare,
as _Carabus_ and _Staphylinus,_ so typical of boreal regions.
_Coccinella_ (lady-bird), which swarms at Dorjiling, does not ascend
so high, and a _Clytus_ was the only longicorn. _Bupretis, Elater,_
and _Blaps_ were found but rarely. Of butterflies, the _Machaon_
seldom reaches this elevation, but the painted-lady, _Pontia, Colias,
Hipparchia, Argynnis,_ and _Polyommatus,_ are all found.
Being now fairly behind most of the great snow and rain-collecting
mountains, I experienced a considerable change in the climate, which
characterises all these rearward lofty valleys, where very little rain
falls, and that chiefly drizzle; but this is so constant that the
weather feels chilly, raw, and comfortless, and I never returned dry
from botanising. The early mornings were bright with views northwards
of blue sky and Kinchinjhow, while to the south the lofty peak of
Tukcham, though much nearer, was seldom seen, and black cumuli and
nimbi rolled up the steep valley of the Lachen to be dissipated in mist
over Tallum. The sun’s rays were, however, powerful at intervals during
the forenoon, whence the mean maximum temperature of July occurred at
about 10 a.m. The temperature of the river was always high, varying
with the heat of the day from 47° to 52°; the mean being 50°.
These streams do not partake of the diurnal rise and fall, so
characteristic of the Swiss rivers and those of the western Himalaya,
where a powerful sun melts the glaciers by day, and their head-streams
are frozen by night. Here the clouds alike prevent solar and nocturnal
radiation, the temperature is more uniform, and the corroding power of
the damp southerly wind that blows strongly throughout the day is the
great melting agent. One morning I saw a vivid and very beautiful halo
20° distant from the sun’s disc; it was no doubt caused by snow in the
higher regions of the atmosphere, as a sharp shower of rain fell
immediately afterwards: these are rare phenomena in mountainous
countries.
The Singtam Soubah visited me daily, and we enjoyed long friendly
conversations: he still insisted that the Yangchoo (the name he gave to
the Lachen at this place) was the boundary, and that I must not go any
further. His first question was always “How long do you intend to
remain here? have you not got all the plants and stones you want? you
can see the sun much better with those brasses and glasses[184] lower
down; it is very cold here, and there is no food:”—to all which I had
but one reply, that I should not return till I had visited Kongra Lama.
He was a portly man, and, I think, at heart good-natured: I had no
difficulty in drawing him on to talk about Tibet, and the holy city of
Teshoo Loombo, with its thousands of gilt temples, nunneries, and
convents, its holiest of all the holy grand Lamas of Tibet, and all the
wide Boodhist world besides. Had it even been politic, I felt it would
be unfair to be angry with a man who was evidently in a false position
between myself and his two rulers, the Rajah and Dewan; who had a wife
and family on the smiling flanks of Singtam, and who longed to be
soaking in the warm rain of Sikkim, drinking Murwa beer (a luxury
unknown amongst these Tibetans) and gathering in his crops of rice,
millet, and buckwheat. Though I may owe him a grudge for his subsequent
violence, I still recall with pleasure the hours we spent together on
the banks of the Lachen. In all matters respecting the frontier, his
lies were circumstantial; and he further took the trouble of bringing
country people to swear that this was Cheen, and that there was no such
place as Kongra Lama. I had written to ask Dr. Campbell for a definite
letter from Tchebu Lama on this point, but unfortunately my despatches
were lost; the messenger who conveyed them missed his footing in
crossing the Lachen, and escaped narrowly with life, while the turban
in which the letters were placed was carried down the current.
[184] Alluding to the sextant, etc.
Finally the Soubah tried to persuade my people that one so incorrigibly
obstinate must be mad, and that they had better leave me. One day,
after we had had a long discussion about the geography of the frontier,
he inflamed my curiosity by telling me that Kinchinjhow was a very holy
mountain; more so than its sister-peaks of Chumulari and Kinchinjunga;
and that both the Sikkim and Tibetan Lamas, and Chinese soldiers, were
ready to oppose my approach to it. This led to my asking him for a
sketch of the mountains; he called for a large sheet of paper, and some
charcoal, and wanted to form his mountains of sand; I however ordered
rice to be brought, and though we had but little, scattered it about
wastefully. This had its effect: he stared at my wealth, for he had all
along calculated on starving me out, and retired, looking perplexed and
crestfallen. Nothing puzzled him so much as my being always occupied
with such, to him, unintelligible pursuits; a Tibetan “cui bono?” was
always in his mouth: “What good will it do _you_?” “Why should you
spend weeks on the coldest, hungriest, windiest, loftiest place on the
earth, without even inhabitants?” Drugs and idle curiosity he believed
were my motives, and possibly a reverence for the religion of Boodh,
Sakya, and Tsongkaba. Latterly he had made up his mind to starve me
out, and was dismayed when he found I could hold out better than
himself, and when I assured him that I should not retrace my steps
until his statements should be verified by a letter from Tchebu; that I
had written to him, and that it would be at least thirty days before I
could receive an answer.
On the 19th of July he proposed to take me to Tungu, at the foot of
Kinchinjhow, and back, upon ponies, provided I would leave my people
and tent, which I refused to do. After this I saw little of him for
several days, and began to fear he was offended, when one morning his
attendant came to me for medicine with a dismal countenance, and in
great alarm: he twisted his fingers together over his stomach to
symbolise the nature of the malady which produced a commotion in his
master’s bowels, and which was simply the colic. I was aware that he
had been reduced to feed upon “Tong” (the arum-root) and herbs, and had
always given him half the pigeons I shot, which was almost the only
animal food I had myself. Now I sent him a powerful dose of medicine;
adding a few spoonfuls of China tea and sugar for friendship.
On the 22nd, being convalescent, he visited me, looking wofully yellow.
After a long pause, during which he tried to ease himself of some
weighty matter, he offered to take me to Tungu with my tent and people,
and, thence to Kongra Lama, if I would promise to stay but two nights.
I asked whether Tungu was in Cheen or Sikkim; he replied that after
great enquiry he had heard that it was really in Sikkim; “Then,” said
I, “we will both go to-morrow morning to Tungu, and I will stay there
as long as I please:” he laughed, and gave in with apparent good grace.
After leaving Tallum, the valley contracts, passing over great ancient
moraines, and again expanding wider than before into broad grassy
flats. The vegetation rapidly diminishes in stature and abundance, and
though the ascent to Tungu is trifling, the change in species is very
great. The _Spiræa,_ maple, _Pieris,_ cherry, and larch disappear,
leaving only willow, juniper, stunted birch, silver fir, white rose,
_Aralia,_ berberry, currant, and more rhododendrons than all these put
together;[185] while mushrooms and other English fungi[186] grew
amongst the grass.
[185] _Cyananthus,_ a little blue flower allied to _Campanula,_ and
one of the most beautiful alpines I know, covered the turfy ground,
with _Orchis, Pedicularis, Gentian, Potentilla, Geranium,_ purple and
yellow _Meconopsis,_ and the _Artemisia_ of Dorjiling, which ascends
to 12,000 feet, and descends to the plains, having a range of 11,500
feet in elevation. Of ferns, _Hymenophyllum, Cistopteris,_ and
_Cryptogramma crispa_ ascend thus high.
[186] One of great size, growing in large clumps, is the English
_Agaricus comans,_ Fr., and I found it here at 12,500 feet, as also
the beautiful genus _Crucibulum,_ which is familiar to us in England,
growing on rotten sticks, and resembling a diminutive bird’s nest with
eggs in it.
[Illustration: Tungu village]
Tungu occupies a very broad valley, at the junction of the Tungu-choo
from the east, and the Lachen from the north. The hills slope gently
upwards to 16,000 feet, at an average angle of 15°; they are flat and
grassy at the base, and no snow is anywhere to be seen.[187] A
stupendous rock, about fifty feet high, lay in the middle of the
valley, broken in two: it may have been detached from a cliff, or have
been transported thither as part of an ancient moraine which extends
from the mouth of the Tungu-choo valley across that of the Lachen. The
appearance and position of this great block, and of the smaller piece
lying beside it, rather suggest the idea of the whole mass having
fallen perpendicularly from a great height through a _crevasse_ in a
glacier, than of its having been hurled from so considerable a distance
as from the cliffs on the flanks of the valley: it is faithfully
represented in the accompanying woodcut. A few wooden houses were
collected near this rock, and several black tents were scattered about.
I encamped at an elevation of 12,750 feet, and was waited on by the
Lachen Phipun with presents of milk, butter, yak-flesh, and curds; and
we were not long before we drowned old enmity in buttered and salted
tea.
[187] In the wood-cut the summit of Chomiomo is introduced, as it
appears from a few hundred feet above the point of view.
On my arrival I found the villagers in a meadow, all squatted
cross-legged in a circle, smoking their brass and iron pipes, drinking
tea, and listening to a letter from the Rajah, concerning their
treatment of me. Whilst my men were pitching my tent, I gathered forty
plants new to me, all of Tartarian types.[188] Wheat or barley I was
assured had been cultivated at Tungu when it was possessed by Tibetans,
and inhabited by a frontier guard, but I saw no appearance of any
cultivation. The fact is an important one, as barley requires a mean
summer temperature of 48° to come to maturity. According to my
observations, the mean temperature of Tungu in July is upwards of 50°,
and, by calculation, that of the three summer months, June, July, and
August, should be about 46·5°. As, however, I do not know whether these
cerealia were grown as productive crops, much stress cannot be laid
upon the fact of their having been cultivated, for in a great many
parts of Tibet the barley is annually cut green for fodder.
[188] More Siberian plants appeared, as _Astragali, Chenopodium,
Artemisia,_ some grasses, new kinds of _Pedicularis, Delphinium,_ and
some small Orchids. Three species of _Parnassia_ and six primroses
made the turf gay, mixed with saxifrages, _Androsace_ and _Campanula._
By the cottages was abundance of shepherd’s-purse, _Lepidium,_ and
balsams, with dock, _Galeopsis,_ and _Cuscuta._ Several low dwarf
species of honeysuckle formed stunted bushes like heather; and
_Anisodus,_ a curious plant allied to _Hyoscyamus,_ whose leaves are
greedily eaten by yaks, was very common.
In the evening the sick came to me: their complaints, as usual, being
rheumatism, ophthalmia, goitres, cuts, bruises, and poisoning by Tong
(_Arum_), fungi, and other deleterious vegetables. At Tallum I attended
an old woman who dressed her ulcers with _Plantago_ (plantain) leaves,
a very common Scotch remedy; the ribs being drawn out from the leaf,
which is applied fresh: it is rather a strong application.
On the following morning I was awakened by the shrill cries of the
Tibetan maidens, calling the yaks to be milked, “Toosh—toosh—toooosh,”
in a gradually higher key; to which Toosh seemed supremely indifferent,
till quickened in her movements by a stone or stick, levelled with
unerring aim at her ribs; these animals were changing their long
winter’s wool for sleek hair, and the former hung about them in ragged
masses, like tow. Their calves gambolled by their sides, the drollest
of animals, like ass-colts in their antics, kicking up their short
hind-legs, whisking their bushy tails in the air, rushing up and down
the grassy slopes, and climbing like cats to the top of the rocks.
The Soubah and Phipun came early to take me to Kongra Lama, bringing
ponies, genuine Tartars in bone and breed. Remembering the Dewan’s
impracticable saddle at Bhomsong, I stipulated for a horse-cloth or
pad, upon which I had no sooner jumped than the beast threw back his
ears, seated himself on his haunches, and, to consternation, slid
backwards down a turfy slope, pawing the earth with his fore-feet as he
went, and leaving me on the ground, amid shrieks of laughter from my
Lepchas. My steed being caught, I again mounted, and was being led
forward, when he took to shaking himself like a dog till the pad
slipped under his belly, and I was again unhorsed. Other ponies
displayed equal prejudices against my mode of riding, or having my
weight anywhere but well on their shoulders, being all-powerful in
their fore-quarters; and so I was compelled to adopt the high
demi-pique saddle with short stirrups, which forced me to sit with my
knees up to my nose, and to grip with the calves of my legs and heels.
All the gear was of yak or horse-hair, and the bit was a curb and ring,
or a powerful twisted snaffle.
The path ran N.N.W. for two miles, and then crossed the Lachen above
its junction with the Nunee[189] from the west: the stream was rapid,
and twelve yards in breadth; its temperature was 48°. About six miles
above Tungu, the Lachen is joined by the Chomio-choo, a large affluent
from Chomiomo mountain. Above this the Lachen meanders along a broad
stony bed; and the path rises over a great ancient moraine, whose level
top is covered with pools, but both that and its south face are bare,
from exposure to the south wind, which blows with fury through this
contracted part of the valley to the rarified atmosphere of the lofty,
open, and dry country beyond. Its north slope, on the contrary, is
covered with small trees and brushwood, rhododendron, birch,
honeysuckle, and mountain-ash. These are the most northern shrubs in
Sikkim, and I regarded them with deep interest, as being possibly the
last of their kind to be met with in this meridian, for many degrees
further north: perhaps even no similar shrubs occur between this and
the Siberian Altai, a distance of 1,500 miles. The magnificent yellow
cowslip (_Primula Sikkimensis_) gilded the marshes, and _Caltha,_[190]
_Trollius,_ Anemone, _Arenaria, Draba,_ Saxifrages, Potentillas,
Ranunculus, and other very alpine plants abounded.
[189] I suspect there is a pass by the Nunee to the sheds I saw up the
Zemu valley on the 2nd of July, as I observed yaks grazing high up the
mountains: the distance cannot be great, and there is little or no
snow to interfere.
[190] This is the _C. scaposa,_ n. sp. The common _Caltha palustris,_
or “marsh marigold” of England, which is not found in Sikkim, is very
abundant in the north-west Himalaya.
At the foot of the moraine was a Tibetan camp of broad, black, yak-hair
tents, stretched out with a complicated system of ropes, and looking at
a distance—(to borrow M. Huc’s graphic simile)—like fat-bodied,
long-legged spiders! Their general shape is hexagonal, about twelve
feet either way, and they are stretched over six short posts, and
encircled with a low stone wall, except in front. In one of them I
found a buxom girl, the image of good humour, making butter and curd
from yak-milk. The churns were of two kinds; one being an oblong box of
birch-bark, or close bamboo wicker-work, full of branched rhododendron
twigs, in which the cream is shaken: she good-naturedly showed me the
inside, which was frosted with snow-white butter, and alive with
maggots. The other churn was a goat-skin, which was rolled about, and
shaken by the four legs. The butter is made into great squares, and
packed in yak-hair cloths; the curd is eaten either fresh, or dried and
pulverised (when it is called “Ts’cheuzip”).
Except bamboo and copper milk-vessels, wooden ladles, tea-churn, and
pots, these tents contained no furniture but goat-skins and blankets,
to spread on the ground as a bed. The fire was made of sheep and
goats’-droppings, lighted with juniper-wood; above it hung tufts of
yaks’-hair, one for every animal lost during the season,[191] by which
means a reckoning is kept. Although this girl had never before seen a
European, she seemed in no way discomposed at my visit, and gave me a
large slice of fresh curd.
[191] The Siberians hang tufts of horse-hair inside their houses from
superstitious motives (Ermann’s “Siberia,” i., 281).
Beyond this place (alt. 14,500 feet), the valley runs up north-east,
becoming very stony and desolate, with green patches only by the
watercourses: at this place, however, thick fogs came on, and obscured
all view. At 15,000 feet, I passed a small glacier on the west side of
the valley, the first I had met with that descended nearly to the
river, during the whole course of the Teesta.
Five miles further on we arrived at the tents of the Phipun, whose wife
was prepared to entertain us with Tartar hospitality: magnificent tawny
Tibet mastiffs were baying at the tent-door, and some yaks and ponies
were grazing close by. We mustered twelve in number, and squatted
cross-legged in a circle inside the tent, the Soubah and myself being
placed on a pretty Chinese rug. Salted and buttered tea was immediately
prepared in a tea-pot for us on the mat, and in a great caldron for the
rest of the party; parched rice and wheat-flour, curd, and roasted
maize[192] were offered us, and we each produced our wooden cup, which
was kept constantly full of scalding tea-soup, which, being made with
fresh butter, was very good. The flour was the favourite food, of which
each person dexterously formed little dough-balls in his cup, an
operation I could not well manage, and only succeeded in making a
nauseous paste, that stuck to my jaws and in my throat. Our hostess’
hospitality was too _exigeant_ for me, but the others seemed as if they
could not drink enough of the scalding tea.
[192] Called “pop-corn” in America, and prepared by roasting the maize
in an iron vessel, when it splits and turns partly inside out,
exposing a snow-white spongy mass of farina. It looks very handsome,
and would make a beautiful dish for dessert.
We were suddenly startled from our repast by a noise like loud thunder,
crash following crash, and echoing through the valley. The Phipun got
up, and coolly said, “The rocks are falling, it is time we were off, it
will rain soon.” The moist vapours had by this time so accumulated, as
to be condensed in rain on the cliffs of Chomiomo and Kinchinjhow;
which, being loosened, precipitated avalanches of rocks and snow. We
proceeded amidst dense fog, soon followed by hard rain; the roar of
falling rocks on either hand increasing as these invisible giants spoke
to one another in voices of thunder through the clouds. The effect was
indescribably grand: and as the weather cleared, and I obtained
transient peeps of their precipices of blue ice and black rock towering
5000 feet above me on either hand, the feeling of awe produced was
almost overpowering. Heavy banks of vapour still veiled the mountains,
but the rising mist exposed a broad stony track, along which the Lachen
wandered, split into innumerable channels, and enclosing little oases
of green vegetation, lighted up by occasional gleams of sunshine.
Though all around was enveloped in gloom, there was in front a high
blue arc of cloudless sky, between the beetling cliffs that formed the
stern portals of the Kongra Lama pass.