abundance of sparrows, feeding on the yak-droppings, and occasionally
the hoopoe; waders, cormorants, and wild ducks were sometimes seen in
the streams, but most of them were migrating south. The yaks are
driven out to pasture at sunrise, and home at sunset, till the middle
of the month, when they return to Yeumtong. All their droppings are
removed from near the tents, and piled in heaps; as these animals,
unlike their masters, will not sleep amid such dirt. These heaps
swarm with the maggots of two large flies, a yellow and black,
affording abundant food to red-legged crows, ravens, and swallows.
Butterflies are rare; the few are mostly _Colias, Hipparchia,
Polyommatus,_ and _Melitaea_; these I have seen feeding at 17,000
feet; when found higher, they have generally been carried up by
currents. Of beetles, an _Aphodeus,_ in yak-droppings, and an
_Elaphrus,_ a predaceous genus inhabiting swamps, are almost the only
ones I saw. The wild quadrupeds are huge sheep, in flocks of fifty,
the _Ovis Ammon_ called "Gnow." I never shot one, not having time to
pursue them for they were very seldom seen, and always at great
elevations. The larger marmot is common, and I found the horns of the
"Tchiru" antelope. Neither the wild horse, fox, hare, nor tailless
rat, cross the Donkia pass. White clover, shepherd's purse, dock,
plantain, and chickweed, are imported here by yaks; but the common
_Prunella_ of Europe is wild, and so is a groundsel like _Senecio
Jacobaea, Ranunculus, Sibbaldia,_ and 200 other plants. The grasses
are numerous; they belong chiefly to _Poa, Festuca, Stipa,_ and other
European genera.
I repeatedly attempted to ascend both Kinchinjhow and Donkia from
Momay, and generally reached from 18,000 to 19,000 feet, but never
much higher.* [An elevation of 20,000 and perhaps 22,000 feet might,
I should think, easily be attained by practice, in Tibet, north of
Sikkim.] The observations taken on these excursions are sufficiently
illustrated by those of Donkia pass: they served chiefly to perfect
my map, measure the surrounding peaks, and determine the elevation
reached by plants; all of which were slow operations, the weather of
this month being so bad that I rarely returned dry to my tent; fog
and drizzle, if not sleet and snow, coming on during every day,
without exception.
I made frequent excursions to the great glacier of Kinchinjhow.
Its valley is about four miles long, broad and flat: Chango-khang*
[The elevation of this mountain is about 20,560 feet, by the mean of
several observations taken from surrounding localities.] rears its
blue and white cliffs 4,500 feet above its west flank, and throws
down avalanches of stones and snow into the valley. Hot springs*
[Supposing the mean temperature of the air at the elevation of the
Momay springs to be 26 degrees or 28 degrees, which may be
approximately assumed, and that, as some suppose, the heat of thermal
springs is due to the internal temperature of the globe; then
according to the law of increment of heat in descending (of 1 degree
for fifty feet) we should find the temperature of 110 degrees at a
depth of 4,100 feet, or at 11,900 feet above the level of the sea.
Direct experiment with internal heat has not, however, been carried
beyond 2000 feet below the surface, and as the ratio of increment
diminishes with the depth, that above assigned to the temperature of
110 degrees is no doubt much too little. The Momay springs more
probably owe their temperature to chemical decomposition of
sulphurets of metals. I found pyrites in Tibet on the north flank of
the mountain Kinchinjhow, in limestones asasociated with shales.]
burst from the ground near some granite rocks on its floor, about
16,000 feet above the sea, and only a mile below the glacier, and the
water collects in pools: its temperature is 110 degrees, and in
places 116 degrees, or 4 degrees hotter than that of the Yeumtong
hot-springs, though 4000 feet higher, and of precisely the same
character. A _Barbarea_ and some other plants make the neighbourhood
of the hot-springs a little oasis, and the large marmot is common,
uttering its sharp, chirping squeak.
The terminal moraine is about 500 feet high, quite barren, and thrown
obliquely across the valley, from north-east to south-west,
completely hiding the glacier. From its top successive smaller
parallel ridges (indicating the periodic retirements of the glacier)
lead down to the ice, which must have sunk several hundred feet. This
glacier descends from Kinchinjhow, the huge cliff of whose eastern
extremity dips into it. The surface, less than half a mile wide, is
exceedingly undulated, and covered with large pools of water, ninety
feet deep, and beds of snow, and is deeply corroded; gigantic blocks
are perched on pinnacles of ice on its surface, and the gravel cones*
[For a description of this curious phenomenon, which has been
illustrated by Agassiz, see "Forbes's Alps," p. 26 and 347.] are
often twenty feet high. The crevassing so conspicuous on the Swiss
glaciers is not so regular on this, and the surface appears more like
a troubled ocean; due, no doubt, to the copious rain and snow-falls
throughout the summer, and the corroding power of wet fogs.
The substance of the ice is ribboned, dirt-bands are seen from above
to form long loops on some parts, and the lateral moraines, like the
terminal, are high above the surface. These notes, made previous to
reading Professor Forbes's travels in the Alps, sufficiently show
that perpetual snow, whether as ice or glacier, obeys the same laws
in India as in Europe; and I have no remarks to offer on the
structure of glaciers, that are not well illustrated and explained in
the abovementioned admirable work.
Its average slope for a mile above the terminal moraines was less
than 5 degrees, and the height of its surface above the sea 16,500
feet by boiling-point; the thickness of its ice probably 400 feet.
Between the moraine and the west flank of the valley is a large lake,
with terraced banks, whose bottom (covered with fine felspathic silt)
is several hundred feet above that of the valley; it is half a mile
long, and a quarter broad, and fed partly by glaciers of the second
order on Chango-khang and Sebolah, and partly by filtration through
the lateral moraine.
Illustration--GNEISS-BLOCK WITH GRANITE BANDS, ON THE KINCHINJHOW
GLACIER.
CHAPTER XXIII.
Donkia glaciers -- Moraines -- Dome of ice -- Honey-combed surface --
Rocks of Donkia -- Metamorphic action of granite veins -- Accident to
instruments -- Sebolah pass -- Bees, and May-flies -- View --
Temperature -- Pulses of party -- Lamas and travellers at Momay --
Weather and climate -- Dr. Campbell leaves Dorjiling for Sikkim --
Leave Momay -- Yeumtong -- Lachoong -- Retardation of vegetation at
low elevations -- Choongtam -- Landslips and debacle -- Meet Dr.
Campbell -- Motives for his journey -- Second visit to Lachen valley
-- Autumnal tints -- Red currants -- Lachen Phipun -- Tungu --
Scenery -- Animals -- Poisonous rhododendrons -- Fire-wood -- Palung
-- Elevations -- Sitong -- Kongra Lama -- Tibetans -- Enter Tibet --
Desolate scenery -- Plants -- Animals -- Geology -- Cholamoo lakes --
Antelopes -- Return to Yeumtso -- Dr. Campbell lost -- Extreme cold
-- Headaches -- Tibetan Dingpun and guard -- Arms and accoutrements
-- Temperature of Yeumtso -- Migratory birds -- Visit of Dingpun --
Yeumtso lakes.
On the 20th of September I ascended to the great Donkia glaciers,
east of Momay; the valley is much longer than that leading to the
Kinchinjhow glacier, and at 16,000 or 17,000 feet elevation,
containing four marshes or lakes, alternating with as many transverse
moraines that have dammed the river. These moraines seem in some
cases to have been deposited where rocks in the bed of the valley
obstructed the downward progress of the ancient glacier; hence, when
this latter finally retired, it rested at these obstructions, and
accumulated there great deposits, which do not cross the valley, but
project from each side obliquely into it. The rocks _in situ_ on the
floor of the valley are all _moutonneed_ and polished on the top,
sides, and face looking up the valley, but are rugged on that looking
down it: gigantic blocks are poised on some. The lowest of the
ancient moraines completely crosses the river, which finds, its way
between the boulders.
Under the red cliff of Forked Donkia the valley becomes very broad,
bare, and gravelly, with a confusion of moraines, and turns more
northwards. At the angle, the present terminal moraine rises like a
mountain (I assumed it to be about 800 feet high),* [This is the
largest and longest terminal moraine backed by an existing glacier
that I examined with care: I doubt its being so high as the moraine
of the Allalein glacier below the Mat-maark sea in the Sachs valley
(Valais, Switzerland); but it is impossible to compare such objects
from memory: the Donkia one was much the most uniform in height.] and
crosses the valley from N.N.E. to S.S.W. From the summit, which rises
above the level of the glacier, and from which I assume its present
retirement, a most striking scene opened. The ice filling an immense
basin, several miles broad and long, formed a low dome,* [This
convexity of the ice is particularly alluded to by Forbes ("Travels
in the Alps," p.386), as the "renflement" of Rendu and "surface
bombee" of Agassiz, and is attributed to the effects of hydrostatic
pressure tending to press the lower layers of ice upwards to the
surface. My own impression at the time was, that the convexity of the
surface of the Donkia glacier was due to a subjacent mountain spur
running south from Donkia itself. I know, however, far too little of
the topography of this glacier to advance such a conjecture with any
confidence. In this case, as in all similar ones, broad expanses
being covered to an enormous depth with ice, the surface of the
latter must in some degree be modified by the ridges and valleys it
conceals. The typical "surface bombee," which is conspicuous in the
Himalaya glaciers, I was wont (in my ignorance of the mechanical laws
of glaciers) to attribute to the more rapid melting of the edges of
the glacier by the radiated heat of its lateral moraines and of the
flanks of the valley that it occupies.] with Forked Donkia on the
west, and a serried range of rusty-red scarped mountains, 20,000 feet
high on the north and east, separating large tributary glaciers.
Other still loftier tops of Donkia appeared behind these, upwards of
22,000 feet high, but I could not recognise the true summit (23,176
feet). The surface was very rugged, and so deeply honey-combed that
the foot often sank from six to eight inches in crisp wet ice.
I proceeded a mile on it, with much more difficulty than on any Swiss
glacier: this was owing to the elevation, and the corrosion of the
surface into pits and pools of water; the crevasses being but few and
distant. I saw no dirt-bands on looking down upon it from a point I
attained under the red cliff of Forked Donkia, at an elevation of
18,307 feet by barometer, and 18,597 by boiling-point. The weather
was very cold, the thermometer fell from 41 degrees to 34 degrees,
and it snowed heavily after 3 p.m.
The strike of all the rocks (gneiss with granite veins) seemed to be
north-east, and dip north-west 30 degrees. Such also were the strike
and dip on another spur from Donkia, north of this, which I ascended
to 19,000 feet, on the 26th of September: it abutted on the scarped
precipices, 3000 feet high, of that mountain. I had been attracted to
the spot by its bright orange-red colour, which I found to be caused
by peroxide of iron. The highly crystalline nature of the rocks, at
these great elevations, is due to the action of veins of fine-grained
granite, which sometimes alter the gneiss to such an extent that it
appears as if fused into a fine granite, with distinct crystals of
quartz and felspar; the most quartzy layers are then roughly
crystallized into prisms, or their particles are aggregated into
spheres composed of concentric layers of radiating crystals, as is
often seen in agates. The rearrangement of the mineral constituents
by heat goes on here just as in trap, cavities filled with crystals
being formed in rocks exposed to great heat and pressure. Where mica
abounds, it becomes black and metallic; and the aluminous matter is
crystallised in the form of garnets.
Illustration--SUMMIT OF FORKED DONKIA, AND "GOA" ANTELOPES.
At these great heights the weather was never fine for more than an
hour at a time, and a driving sleet followed by thick snow drove me
down on both these occasions. Another time I ascended a third spur
from this great mountain, and was overtaken by a heavy gale and
thunderstorm, the latter is a rare phenomenon: it blew down my tripod
and instruments which I had thought securely Propped with stones, and
the thermometers were broken, but fortunately not the barometer.
On picking up the latter, which lay with its top down the hill, a
large bubble of air appeared, which I passed up and down the tube,
and then allowed to escape; when I heard a rattling of broken glass
in the cistern. Having another barometer* [This barometer (one of
Newman's portable instruments) I have now at Kew: it was compared
with the Royal Society's standard before leaving England; and varied
according to comparisons made with the Calcutta standard 0.012 during
its travels; on leaving Calcutta its error was 0; and on arriving in
England, by the standard of the Royal Society, +.004. I have given in
the Appendix some remarks on the use of these barometers, which
(though they have obvious defects), are less liable to derangement,
far more portable, and stand much heavier shocks than those of any
other construction with which I am familiar.] at my tent, I hastened
to ascertain by comparison whether the instrument which had travelled
with me from England, and taken so many thousand observations, was
seriously damaged: to my delight an error of 0.020 was all I could
detect at Momay and all other lower stations. On my return to
Dorjiling in December, I took it to pieces, and found the lower part
of the bulb of the attached thermometer broken off, and floating on
the mercury. Having quite expected this, I always checked the
observations of the attached thermometer by another, but--how, it is
not easy to say--the broken one invariably gave a correct
temperature.
Illustration--VIEW FROM AN ELEVATION OF 18,000 FEET OF THE EAST TOP
OF KINCHINJHOW, AND OF TIBET, OVER THE RIDGE THAT CONNECTS IT WITH
DONKIA. WILD SHEEP (_OVIS AMMON_) IN THE FOREGROUND.
The Kinchinjhow spurs are not accessible to so great an elevation as
those of Donkia, but they afford finer views over Tibet, across the
ridge connecting Kinchinjow with Donkia.
Broad summits here, as on the opposite side of the valley, are quite
bare of snow at 18,000 feet, though where they project as sloping
hog-backed spurs from the parent mountain, the snows of the latter
roll down on them and form glacial caps, the reverse of glaciers in
valleys, but which overflow, as it were, on all sides of the slopes,
and are ribboned* [The convexity of the curves, however, seems to be
upwards. Such reversed glaciers, ending abruptly on broad stony
shoulders quite free of snow, should on no account be taken as
indicating the lower limit of perpetual snow.] and crevassed.
On the 18th of September I ascended the range which divides the
Lachen from the Lachoong valley, to the Sebolah pass, a very sharp
ridge of gneiss, striking north-west and dipping north-east, which
runs south from Kinchinjhow to Chango-khang. A yak-track led across
the Kinchinjhow glacier, along the bank of the lake, and thence
westward up a very steep spur, on which was much glacial ice and
snow, but few plants above 16,000 feet. At nearly 17,000 feet I
passed two small lakes, on the banks of one of which I found bees, a
May-fly (_Ephemera_) and gnat; the two latter bred on stones in the
water, which (the day being fine) had a temperature of 53 degrees,
while that of the large lake at the glacier, 1000 feet lower, was
only 39 degrees.
The view from the summit commands the whole castellated front of
Kinchinjhow, the sweep of the Donkia cliffs to the east,
Chango-khang's blunt cone of ribbed snow* [This ridging or furrowing
of steep snow-beds is explained at vol. i, chapter x.] over head,
while to the west, across the grassy Palung dunes rise Chomiomo, the
Thlonok mountains, and Kinchinjunga in the distance.* [The latter
bore 241 degrees 30 minutes; it was distant about thirty-four miles,
and subtended an angle of 3 degrees 2 minutes 30 seconds. The rocks
on its north flanks were all black, while those forming the upper
10,000 feet of the south face were white: hence, the top is probably
granite, overlaid by the gneiss on the north.] The Palung plains, now
yellow with withered grass, were the most curious part of the view:
hemmed in by this range which rises 2000 feet above them, and by the
Lachen hills on the east, they appeared a dead level, from which
Kinchinjhow reared its head, like an island from the ocean.* [It is
impossible to contemplate the abrupt flanks of all these lofty
mountains, without contrasting them with the sloping outlines that
prevail in the southern parts of Sikkim. All such precipices are, I
have no doubt, the results of sea action; and all posterior influence
of sub-aerial action, aqueous or glacial, tends to wear these
precipices into slopes, to fill up valleys and to level mountains. Of
all such influences heavy rain-falls and a luxuriant vegetation are
probably the most active; and these features are characteristic of
the lower valleys of Sikkim, which are consequently exposed to very
different conditions of wear and tear from those which prevail on
these loftier rearward ranges.] The black tents of the Tibetans were
still there, but the flocks were gone. The broad fosse-like valley of
the Chachoo was at my feet, with the river winding along its bottom,
and its flanks dotted with black juniper bushes.
The temperature at this elevation, between 1 and 3 p.m., varied from
38 degrees to 59 degrees; the mean being 46.5 degrees, with the
dew-point 34.6 degrees. The height I made 17,585 feet by barometer,
and 17,517 by boiling-point. I tried the pulses of eight, persons
after two hours' rest; they varied from 80 to 112, my own being 104.
As usual at these heights, all the party were suffering from
giddiness and headaches.
Throughout September various parties passed my tent at Momay,
generally Lamas or traders: the former, wrapped in blankets, wearing
scarlet and gilt mitres, usually rode grunting yaks, which were
sometimes led by a slave-boy or a mahogany-faced nun, with a broad
yellow sheep-skin cap with flaps over her ears, short petticoats, and
striped boots. The domestic utensils, pots, pans, and bamboos of
butter, tea-churn, bellows, stools, books, and sacred implements,
usually hung rattling on all sides of his holiness, and a sumpter yak
carried the tents and mats for sleeping. On several occasions large
parties of traders, with thirty or forty yaks* [About 600 loaded yaks
are said to cross the Donkia pass annually.] laden with planks,
passed, and occasionally a shepherd with Tibet sheep, goats, and
ponies. I questioned many of these travellers about the courses of
the Tibetan rivers; they all agreed* [One lad only, declared that the
Kambajong river flowed north-west to Dobtah and Sarrh, and thence
turned north to the Yaru; but all Campbell's itineraries, as well as
mine, make the Dobtah lake drain into the Chomachoo, north of
Wallanchoon; which latter river the Nepalese also affirm flows into
Nepal, as the Arun. The Lachen and Lachoong Phipuns both insisted on
this, naming to me the principal towns on the way south-west from
Kambajong along the river to Tingri Maidan, _via_ Tashirukpa Chait,
which is north of Wallanchoon pass.] in stating the Kambajong or
Chomachoo liver, north of the Lachen, to be the Arun of Nepal, and
that it rose near the Ramchoo lake (of Turner's route). The lake
itself discharges either into the Arun, or into the Painomchoo
(flowing to the Yaru); but this point I could never satisfactorily
ascertain.
The weather at Momay, during September, was generally bad after 11
a.m.: little snow or rain fell, but thin mists and drizzle prevailed;
less than one inch and a half of rain was collected, though upwards
of eleven fell at Calcutta, and rather more at Dorjiling.
The mornings were sometimes fine, cold, and sunny, with a north wind
which had blown down the valley all night, and till 9 a.m., when the
south-east wind, with fog, came on. Throughout the day a north
current blew above the southern; and when the mist was thin; the air
sparkled with spiculae of snow, caused by the cold dry upper current
condensing the vapours of the lower. This southern current passes
over the tops of the loftiest mountains, ascending to 24,000 feet,
and discharging frequent showers in Tibet, as far north as Jigatzi,
where, however, violent dry easterly gales are the most prevalent.
The equinoctial gales set in on the 21st, with a falling barometer,
and sleet at night; on the 23rd and 24th it snowed heavily, and being
unable to light a fire at the entrance of my tent, I spent two
wretched days, taking observations; on the 25th it cleared, and the
snow soon melted. Frosty nights succeeded, but the thermometer only
fell to 31 degrees once during the month, and the maximum once rose
to 62.5 degrees. The mean temperature from the 9th to the 30th
September was 41.6 degrees,* [The result of fifty-six comparative
observations between Calcutta and Momay, give 40.6 degrees
difference, which, after corrections, allows 1 degree Fahr. for every
438 feet of ascent.] which coincided with that of 8 a.m. and 8 p.m.;
the mean maximum, 52.2 degrees, minimum, 34.7 degrees, and consequent
range, 17.5 degrees.* [At Dorjiling the September range is only 9.5
degrees; and at Calcutta 10 degrees.] On seven nights the radiating
thermometer fell much below the temperature of the air, the mean
being 10.5 degrees and maximum 14.2 degrees; and on seven mornings
the sun heated the black-bulb thermometer considerably, on the mean
to 62.6 degrees above the air; maximum 75.2 degrees, and minimum, 43
degrees. The greatest heat of the day occurred at noon: the most
rapid rise of temperature (5 degrees) between 8 and 9 a.m., and the
greatest fall (5.5 degrees), between 3 and 4 p.m. A sunk thermometer
fell from 52.5 degrees to 51.5 degrees between the 11th and 14th,
when I was obliged to remove the thermometer owing to the accident
mentioned above. The mercury in the barometer rose and fell
contemporaneously with that at Calcutta and Dorjiling, but the amount
of tide was considerably less, and, as is usual during the
equinoctial month, on some days it scarcely moved, whilst on others
it rose and fell rapidly. The tide amounted to 0.062 of an inch.
On the 28th of the month the Singtam Soubah came up from Yeumtong, to
request leave to depart for his home, on account of his wife's
illness; and to inform me that Dr. Campbell had left Dorjiling,
accompanied (in compliance with the Rajah's orders) by the Tchebu
Lama. I therefore left Momay on the 30th, to meet him at Choongtam,
arriving at Yeumtong the same night, amid heavy rain and sleet.
Autumnal tints reigned at Yeumtong, and the flowers had disappeared
from its heath-like flat; a small eatable cherry with a wrinkled
stone was ripe, and acceptable in a country so destitute of fruit.*
[The absence of _Vaccinia_ (whortleberries and cranberries) and
eatable _Rubi_ (brambles) in the alpine regions of the Himalaya is
very remarkable, and they are not replaced by any substitute.
With regard to Vaccinium, this is the more anomalous, as several
species grow in the temperate regions of Sikkim.] Thence I descended
to Lachoong, on the 1st of October, again through heavy rain, the
snow lying on the Tunkra mountain at 14,000 feet. The larch was
shedding its leaves, which turn red before they fall; but the annual
vegetation was much behind that at 14,000 feet, and so many late
flowerers, such as _Umbelliferae_ and _Compositae,_ had come into
blossom, that the place still looked gay and green: the blue climbing
gentian (_Crawfurdia_) now adorned the bushes; this plant would be a
great acquisition in English gardens. A _Polygonum_ still in flower
here, was in ripe fruit near Momay, 6000 feet higher up the valley.
On the following day I made a long and very fatiguing march to
Choongtam, but the coolies were not all able to accomplish it.
The backwardness of the flora in descending was even more conspicuous
than on the previous day: the jungles, at 7000 feet, being gay with a
handsome Cucurbitaceous plant. Crossing the Lachoong cane-bridge, I
paid the tribute of a sigh to the memory of my poor dog, and reached
my old camping-ground at Choongtam by 10 p.m., having been marching
rapidly for twelve hours. My bed and tent came up two hours later,
and not before the leeches and mosquitos had taxed me severely.
On the 4th of October I heard the nightingale for the first time
this season.
Expecting Dr. Campbell on the following morning, I proceeded down the
river to meet him: the whole valley was buried under a torrent or
debacle of mud, shingle, and boulders, and for half a mile the stream
was dammed up into a deep lake. Amongst the gneiss and granite
boulders brought down by this debacle, I collected some actinolites;
but all minerals are extremely rare in Sikkim and I never heard of a
gem or crystal of any size or beauty, or of an ore of any
consequence, being found in this country.
I met my friend on the other side of the mud torrent, and I was truly
rejoiced to see him, though he was looking much the worse for his
trying journey through the hot valleys at this season; in fact, I
know no greater trial of the constitution than the exposure and hard
exercise that is necessary in traversing these valleys, below 5000
feet, in the rainy season: delay is dangerous, and the heat, anxiety,
and bodily suffering from fatigue, insects, and bruises, banish
sleep, and urge the restless traveller onward to higher and more
healthy regions. Dr. Campbell had, I found, in addition to the
ordinary dangers of such a journey, met with an accident which might
have proved serious; his pony having been dashed to pieces by falling
over a precipice, a fate he barely escaped himself, by adroitly
slipping from the saddle when he felt the animal's foot giving way.
On our way back to Choongtam, he detailed to me the motives that had
led to his obtaining the authority of the Deputy-Governor of Bengal
(Lord Dalhousie being absent) for his visiting Sikkim. Foremost, was
his earnest desire to cultivate a better understanding with the Rajah
and his officers. He had always taken the Rajah's part, from a
conviction that he was not to blame for the misunderstandings which
the Sikkim officers pretended to exist between their country and
Dorjiling; he had, whilst urgently remonstrating with the Rajah,
insisted on forbearance on my part, and had long exercised it
himself. In detailing the treatment to which I was subjected, I had
not hesitated to express my opinion that the Rajah was more
compromised by it than his Dewan: Dr. Campbell, on the contrary, knew
that the Dewan was the head and front of the whole system of
annoyance. In one point of view it mattered little who was in the
right; but the transaction was a violation of good faith on the part
of the Sikkim government towards the British, for which the Rajah,
however helpless, was yet responsible. To act upon my representations
alone would have been unjust, and no course remained but for Dr.
Campbell to inquire personally into the matter. The authority to do
this gave him also the opportunity of becoming acquainted with the
country which we were bound to protect, as well by our interest as by
treaty, but from which we were so jealously excluded, that should any
contingency occur, we were ignorant of what steps to take for
defence, and, indeed, of what we should have to defend.
On the 6th of October we left Choongtam for my second visit to the
Kongra Lama pass, hoping to get round by the Cholamoo lakes and the
Donkia pass. As the country beyond the frontier was uninhabited, the
Tchebu Lama saw no difficulty in this, provided the Lachen Phipun and
the Tibetans did not object. Our great obstacle was the Singtam
Soubah, who (by the Rajah's order) accompanied us to clear the road,
and give us every facility, but who was very sulky, and undisguisedly
rude to Campbell; he was in fact extremely jealous of the Lama, who
held higher authority than he did, and who alone had the Rajah's
confidence.
Our first day's march was of about ten miles to one of the
river-flats, which was covered with wild apple-trees, whose fruit,
when stewed with sugar, we found palatable. The Lachen river, though
still swollen, was comparatively clear; the rains usually ceasing, or
at least moderating, in October: its water was about 5 degrees colder
than in the beginning of August.
During the second day's march we were stopped at the Taktoong river
by the want of a bridge, which the Singtam Soubah refused to exert
himself to have repaired; its waters were, however, so fallen, that
our now large party soon bridged it with admirable skill. We encamped
the second night on Chateng, and the following day made a long march,
crossing the Zemu, and ascending half-way to Tallum Samdong.
The alpine foliage was rapidly changing colour; and that of the
berberry turning scarlet, gave a warm glow to the mountain above the
forest. Lamteng village was deserted: turnips were maturing near the
houses, and buckwheat on the slope behind; the latter is a
winter-crop at lower elevations, and harvested in April. At Zemu
Samdong the willow-leaves were becoming sear and yellow, and the
rose-bushes bore enormous scarlet hips, two inches long, and covered
with bristles; they were sweet, and rather good eating. Near Tungu
(where we arrived on the 9th) the great Sikkim currant was in fruit;
its berries are much larger than the English, and of the same
beautiful red colour, but bitter and very acid; they are, however,
eaten by the Tibetans, who call them "Kewdemah."
Near the village I found Dr. Campbell remonstrating with the Lachen
Phipun on the delays and rude treatment I had received in June and
July: the man, of course, answered every question with falsehoods,
which is the custom of these people, and produced the Rajah's orders
for my being treated with every civility, as a proof that he must
have behaved as he ought! The Singtam Soubah, as was natural, hung
back, for it was owing to him alone that the orders had been
contravened, and the Phipun appealed to the bystanders for the truth
of this.
The Phipun (accompanied by his Larpun or subordinate officer) had
prepared for us a sumptuous refreshment of tea soup, which was
brewing by the road, and in which all animosities were soon washed
away. We took up our abode at Tungu in a wooden but under the great
rock, where we were detained for several days by bad weather. I was
assured that during all August and September the weather had been
uniformly gloomy, as at Momay, though little rain had fallen.
We had much difficulty in purchasing a sufficient dumber of blankets*
[These were made of goat's wool, teazed into a satiny surface by
little teazle-like brushes of bamboo.] for our people, and in
arranging for our journey, to which the Lachen Phipun was favourable,
promising us ponies for the expedition. The vegetation around was
wholly changed since my July visit: the rhododendron scrub was
verdigris-green from the young leaves which burst in autumn, and
expose at the end of each branchlet a flower-bud covered with
resinous scales, which are thrown off in the following spring.
The jungle was spotted yellow with the withered birch, maple and
mountain-ash, and scarlet with berberry bushes; while above, the
pastures were yellow-brown with the dead grass, and streaked
with snow.
Amongst other luxuries, we procured the flesh of yak calves, which is
excellent veal: we always returned the foot for the mother to lick
while being milked, without which she yields nothing. The yak goes
nine months with calf, and drops one every two years, bearing
altogetber ten or twelve: the common Sikkim cow of lower elevations,
at Dorjiling invariably goes from nine and a half to ten months, and
calves annually: ponies go eleven months, and foal nearly every year.
In Tibet the sheep are annually sheared; the ewes drop their young in
spring and autumn, but the lambs born at the latter period often die
of cold and starvation, and double lambing is unknown; whereas, in
the plains of Bengal (where, however, sheep cannot be said to thrive
without pulse fodder) twins are constantly born. At Dorjiling the
sheep drop a lamb once in the season. The Tibetan mutton we generally
found dry and stringy.
In these regions many of my goats and kids had died foaming at the
mouth and grinding their teeth; and I here discovered the cause to
arise from their eating the leaves of _Rhododendron cinnabarinum*
[The poisonous honey produced by other species is alluded to at
vol. i., chapter ix. An _Andromeda_ and a _Gualtheria,_ I have been
assured are equally deleterious.] ("Kema Kechoong," Lepcha: Kema
signifying Rhododendron): this species alone is said to be poisonous;
and when used as fuel, it causes the face to swell and the eyes to
inflame; of which I observed several instances. As the subject of
fire-wood is of every-day interest to the traveller in these regions,
I may here mention that the rhododendron woods afford poor fires;
juniper burns the brightest, and with least smoke. _Abies Webbiana,_
though emitting much smoke, gives a cheerful fire, far superior to
larch,* [The larch of northern Asia (_Larix Europoea_) is said to
produce a pungent smoke, which I never observed to be the case with
the Sikkim species.] spruce, or _Abies Brunoniana._ At Dorjiling, oak
is the common fuel; alder is also good. Chestnut is invariably used
for blacksmith's charcoal. Magnolia has a disagreeable odour, and
laurel burns very badly.
The phenomenon of phosphorescence is most conspicuous on stacks of
fire-wood. At Dorjiling, during the damp, warm, summer months (May to
October), at elevations of 5000 to 8000 feet, it may be witnessed
every night by penetrating a few yards into the forest--at least it
was so in 1848 and 1849; and during my stay there billets of decayed
wood were repeatedly sent to me by residents, with inquiries as to
the cause of their luminosity. It is no exaggeration to say that one
does not need to move from the fireside to see this phenomenon, for
if there is a partially decayed log amongst the fire-wood, it is
almost sure to glow with a pale phosphoric light. A stack of
fire-wood, collected near my host's (Mr. Hodgson) cottage, presented
a beautiful spectacle for two months (in July and August), and on
passing it at night, I had to quiet my pony, who was always alarmed
by it. The phenomenon invariably accompanies decay, and is common on
oak, laurel (_Tetranthera_), birch, and probably other timbers; it
equally appears on cut wood and on stumps, but is most frequent on
branches lying close to the ground in the wet forests. I have reason
to believe that it spreads with great rapidity from old surfaces to
freshly cut ones. That it is a vital phenomenon, and due to the
mycelium of a fungus, I do not in the least doubt, for I have
observed it occasionally circumscribed by those black lines which are
often seen to bound mycelia on dead wood, and to precede a more rapid
decay. I have often tried, but always in vain, to coax these mycelia
into developing some fungus, by placing them in damp rooms, etc.
When camping in the mountains, I frequently caused the natives to
bring phosphorescent wood into my tent, for the pleasure of watching
its soft undulating light, which appears to pale and glow with every
motion of the atmosphere; but except in this difference of intensity,
it presents no change in appearance night after night. Alcohol, heat,
and dryness soon dissipate it; electricity I never tried. It has no
odour, and my dog, who had a fine sense of smell, paid no heed when
it was laid under his nose.* [As far as my observations go, this
phenomenon of light is confined to the lower orders of vegetable
life, to the fungi alone, and is not dependent on irritability.
I have never seen luminous flowers or roots, nor do I know of any
authenticated instance of such, which may not be explained by the
presence of mycelium or of animal life. In the animal kingdom,
luminosity is confined, I believe, to the Invertebrata, and is
especially common amongst the Radiata and Mollusca; it is also
frequent in the Entromostracous Crustacea, and in various genera of
most orders of insects. In all these, even in the Sertulariae, I have
invariably observed the light to be increased by irritation, in which
respect the luminosity of animal life differs from that of
vegetable.]
The weather continuing bad, and snow falling, the country people
began to leave for their winter-quarters at Lamteng. In the evenings
we enjoyed the company of the Phipun and Tchebu Lama, who relished a
cup of sugarless tea more than any other refreshment we could offer.
From them we collected much Tibetan information:--the former was an
inveterate smoker, using a pale, mild tobacco, mixed largely with
leaves of the small wild Tibetan Rhubarb, called "Chula." Snuff is
little used, and is principally procured from the plains of India.
We visited Palung twice, chiefly in hopes that Dr. Campbell might see
the magnificent prospect of Kinchinjhow from its plains: the first
time we gained little beyond a ducking, but on the second (October
the 15th) the view was superb; and I likewise caught a glimpse of
Kinchinjunga from the neighbouring heights, bearing south 60 degrees
west and distant forty miles. I also measured barometrically the
elevation at the great chait on the plains, and found it 15,620 feet,
and by carefully boiled thermometers, 15,283, on the 13th October,
and 15,566 on the 15th: the difference being due to the higher
temperature on the latter day, and to a rise of 0.3 degree on both
boiling-point thermometers above what the same instruments stood at
on the 13th. The elevation of Tungu from the October barometrical
observations was only seven feet higher than that given by those of
July; the respective heights being 12,766 feet in July, and 12,773 in
October.* [The elevation of Tungu by boiling-point was 12,650 feet by
a set of July observations, 12,818 by a set taken on the 11th of
October, and 12,544 by a set on the 14th of October: the
discrepancies were partly due to the temperature corrections, but
mainly to the readings of the thermometers, which were--
July 28, sunset 189.5, air 47.3 degrees, elev. 12,650
Oct. 11, noon 189.5, air 37.6 degrees, elev. 12,818
Oct. 14, sunset 190.1, air 45.3 degrees, elev. 12,544]
The mean temperature had fallen from 50 degrees in July to 41
degrees, and that of the sunk thermometer from 57 degrees to 51.4
degrees. The mean range in July was 23.3 degrees, and in October 13.8
degrees; the weather during the latter period being, however,
uniformly cold and misty, this was much below the mean monthly range,
which probably exceeds 30 degrees. Much more rain fell in October at
Tungu than at Dorjiling, which is the opposite to what occurs during
the rainy season.
_October 15th._ Having sent the coolies forward, with instructions to
halt and camp on this side of the Kongra Lama pass, we followed them,
taking the route by Palung, and thence over the hills to the Lachen,
to the east of which we descended, and further up its valley joined
the advanced party in a rocky glen, called Sitong, an advantageous
camping ground, from being sheltered by rocks which ward off the keen
blasts: its elevation is 15,370 feet above the sea, and the
magnificent west cliff of Kinchinjhow towers over it not a mile
distant, bearing due east, and subtending an angle of 24.3 degrees.
The afternoon was misty, but at 7 p.m. the south-east wind fell, and
was immediately succeeded by the biting north return current, which
dispelled the fog: hoar-frost sparkled on the ground, and the moon
shone full on the snowy head of Kinchinjhow, over which the milky-way
and the broad flashing orbs of the stars formed a jewelled diadem.
The night was very windy and cold, though the thermometer fell no
lower than 22 degrees, that placed in a polished parabolic reflector
to 20 degrees, and another laid on herbage to 17.5 degrees.
On the 16th we were up early. I felt very anxious about the prospect
of our getting round by Donkia pass and Cholamoo, which would enable
me to complete the few remaining miles of my long survey of the
Teesta river, and which promised immense results in the views I
should obtain of the country, and of the geology and botany of these
lofty snowless regions. Campbell, though extremely solicitous to
obtain permission from the Tibetan guard, (who were waiting for us on
the frontier), was nevertheless bound by his own official position to
yield at once to their wishes, should they refuse us a passage.
The sun rose on our camp at 7.30 a.m., when the north wind fell; and
within an hour afterwards the temperature had risen to 45 degrees.
Having had our sticks* [It was an invariable custom of our Lepcba and
Tibetan attendants, to warm the handles of our sticks in cold
weather, before starting on our daily marches. This is one of many
little instances I could adduce, of their thoughtfulness and
attention to the smallest comforts of the stranger and wanderer in
their lands.] warmed and handed to us, we started on ponies,
accompanied by the Lama only, to hold a parley with the Tibetans;
ordering the rest of the party to follow at their leisure. We had not
proceeded far when we were joined by two Tibetan Sepoys, who, on our
reaching the pass, bellowed lustily for their companions; when
Campbell and the Lama drew up at the chait of Kongra Lama, and
announced his wish to confer with their commandant.
My anxiety was now wound up to a pitch; I saw men with matchlocks
emerging from amongst the rocks under Chomiomo, and despairing of
permission being obtained, I goaded my pony with heels and stick, and
dashed on up the Lachen valley, resolved to make the best of a
splendid day, and not turn back till I had followed the river to the
Cholamoo lakes: The Sepoys followed me a few paces, but running being
difficult at 16,000 feet, they soon gave up the chase.
A few miles ride in a north-east direction over an open, undulating
country, brought me to the Lachen, flowing westwards in a broad,
open, stony valley, bounded by Kinchinjhow on the south, (its face
being as precipitous as that on the opposite side), and on the north
by the Peukathlo, a low range of rocky, sloping mountains, of which
the summits were 18,000 to 19,000 feet above the sea. Enormous
erratic blocks of gneiss strewed the ground, which was sandy or
gravelly, and cut into terraces along the shallow, winding river, the
green and sparkling waters of which rippled over pebbles, or expanded
into lagoons. The already scanty vegetation diminished rapidly: it
consisted chiefly of scattered bushes of a dwarf scrubby honeysuckle
and tufts of nettle, both so brittle as to be trodden into powder,
and the short leafless twiggy _Ephedra,_ a few inches higher.
The most alpine rhododendron (_R. nivale_) spread its small rigid
branches close to the ground; the hemispherical _Arenaria,_ another
type of sterility, rose here and there, and tufts of _Myosotis,
Artemisia, Astragali,_ and _Adrosace,_ formed flat cushions level
with the soil. Grass was very scarce, but a running wiry sedge
(_Carex Moorcroftii_) bound the sand, like the _Carex arenaria_ of
our English coasts.
A more dismally barren country cannot well be conceived, nor one more
strongly contrasting with the pastures of Palung at an equal
elevation. The long lofty wall of Kinchinjhow and Donkia presents an
effectual barrier to the transmission of moisture to the head of the
Lachen valley, which therefore becomes a type of such elevations in
Tibet. As I proceeded, the ground became still more sandy, chirping
under the pony's feet; and where harder, it was burrowed by
innumerable marmots, foxes, and the "Goomchen," or tail-less rat
(_Lagomys badius_), sounding hollow to the tread, and at last
becoming so dangerous that I was obliged to dismount and walk.
The geological features changed as rapidly as those of the climate
and vegetation, for the strike of the rocks being north-west, and the
dip north-east, I was rising over the strata that overlie the gneiss.
The upper part of Kinchinjhow is composed of bold ice-capped cliffs
of gneiss; but the long spurs that stretch northwards from it are of
quartz, conglomerates, slates, and earthy red clays, forming the
rounded terraced hills I had seen from Donkia pass. Between these
spurs were narrow valleys, at whose mouths stupendous blocks of
gneiss rest on rocks of a much later geological formation.
Opposite the most prominent of these spurs the river (16,800 feet
above the sea) runs west, forming marshes, which were full of
_Zannichellia palustris_ and _Ranunculus aquatilis,_ both English and
Siberian plants: the waters contained many shells, of a species of
_Lymnaea_;* [This is the most alpine living shell in the world; my
specimens being from nearly 17,000 feet elevation; it is the _Lymnaea
Hookeri,_ Reeve ("Proceedings of the Zoological Society," No. 204).]
and the soil near the edge, which was covered with tufts of short
grass, was whitened with effloresced carbonate of soda. Here were
some square stone enclosures two feet high, used as pens, and for
pitching tents in; within them I gathered some unripe barley.
Beyond this I recognised a hill of which I had taken bearings from
Donkia pass, and a few miles further, on rounding a great spur of
Kinchinjunga, I arrived in sight of Cholamoo lakes, with the Donkia
mountain rearing its stupendous precipices of rock and ice on the
east. My pony was knocked up, and I felt very giddy from the exertion
and elevation; I had broken his bridle, and so led him on by my plaid
for the last few miles to the banks of the lake; and there, with the
pleasant sound of the waters rippling at my feet, I yielded for a few
moments to those emotions of gratified ambition which, being
unalloyed by selfish considerations for the future; become springs of
happiness during the remainder of one's life.
The landscape about Cholamoo lakes was simple in its elements, stern
and solemn; and though my solitary situation rendered it doubly
impressive to me, I doubt whether the world contains any scene with
more sublime associations than this calm sheet of water, 17,000 feet
above the sea, with the shadows of mountains 22,000 to 24,000 feet
high, sleeping on its bosom.
There was much short grass about the lake, on which large antelopes,
"Chiru" (_Antilope Hodgsoni_,* [I found the horns of this animal on
the south side of the Donkia pass, but I never saw a live one except
in Tibet. The _Procapra_ is described by Mr. Hodgson, "Bengal As.
Soc. Jour., 1846, p. 388," and is introduced into the cut in this
chapter.] and deer, "Goa" (_Procapra picticaudata,_ Hodgson), were
feeding. There were also many slate-coloured hales with white rumps
(_Lepus oiostolus_), with marmots and tail-less rats. The abundance
of animal life was wonderful, compared with the want of it on the
south side of Donkia pass, not five miles distant in a straight line!
it is partly due to the profusion of carbonate of soda, of which all
ruminants are fond, and partly to the dryness of the climate, which
is favourable to all burrowing quadrupeds. A flock of common English
teal were swimming in the lake, the temperature of which was
55 degrees.
Illustration--ANTELOPE'S HEAD.* {The accompanying figures of the
heads of the Chiru (_Antilope Hodgsoni_), were sketched by Lieut.
Maxwell (of the Bengal Artillery), from a pair brought to Dorjiling;
it is the so-called unicorn of Tibet, and of MM. HuC and Gabet's
narrative,--a name which the profile no doubt suggested.]
I had come about fifteen miles from the pass, and arrived at 1 p.m.,
remaining half an hour. I could not form an idea as to whether
Campbell had followed or not, and began to speculate on the
probability of passing the night in the open air, by the warm side of
my steed. Though the sun shone brightly, the wind was bitterly cold,
and I arrived at the stone dykes of Yeumtso at 3 p.m., quite
exhausted with fatigue and headache. I there found, to my great
relief, the Tchebu Lama and Lachen Phipun: they were in some alarm at
my absence, for they thought I was not aware of the extreme severity
of the temperature on the north side of the snows, or of the risk of
losing my way; they told me that after a long discourse with the
Dingpun (or commander) of the Tibetan Sepoys, the latter had allowed
all the party to pass; that the Sepoys had brought on the coolies,
who were close behind, but that they themselves had seen nothing of
Campbell; of whom the Lama then went in search.
The sun set behind Chomiomo at 5 p.m., and the wind at once dropped,
so local are these violent atmospheric currents, which are caused by
the heating of the upper extremities of these lofty valleys, and
consequent rarefaction of the air. Intense terrestrial radiation
immediately follows the withdrawal of the sun's rays, and the
temperature sinks rapidly.
Soon after sunset the Lama returned, bringing Campbell; who, having
mistaken some glacier-fed lakes at the back of Kinchinjhow for those
of Cholamoo, was looking for me. He too had speculated on having to
pass the night under a rock, with one plaid for himself and servant;
in which case I am sure they would both have been frozen to death,
having no pony to lie down beside. He told me that after I had
quitted Kongra Lama, leaving him with the Tchebu Lama and Phipun, the
Dingpun and twenty men came up, and very civilly but formally forbade
their crossing the frontier; but that upon explaining his motives,
and representing that it would save him ten days' journey, the
Dingpun had relented, and promised to conduct the whole party to the
Donkia pass.
We pitched our little tent in the corner of the cattle-pen, and our
coolies soon afterwards came up; mine were in capital health, though
suffering from headaches, but Campbell's were in a distressing state
of illness and fatigue, with swollen faces and rapid pulses, and some
were insensible from symptoms like pressure on the brain;* [I have
never experienced bleeding at the nose, ears, lips or eyelids, either
in my person or that of my companions, on these occasions; nor did I
ever meet with a recent traveller who has. Dr. Thomson has made the
same remark, and when in Switzerland together we were assured by
Auguste Balmat, Francois Coutet, and other experienced Mont Blanc
guides, that they never witnessed these symptoms nor the blackness of
the sky, so frequently insisted upon by alpine travellers.] these
were chiefly Ghorkas (Nepalese). The Tibetan Dingpun and his guard
arrived last of all, he was a droll little object, short, fat, deeply
marked with small-pox, swarthy, and greasy; he was robed in a green
woollen mantle, and was perched on the back of a yak, which also
carried his bedding, and cooking utensils, the latter rattling about
its flanks, horns, neck, and every point of support: two other yaks
bore the tents of the party. His followers were tall savage looking
fellows, with broad swarthy faces, and their hair in short pig-tails.
They wore the long-sleeved cloak, short trousers, and boots, all of
thick woollen, and felt caps on their heads. Each was armed with a
long matchlock slung over his back, with a moveable rest having two
prongs like a fork, and a hinge, so as to fold up along the barrel,
when the prongs project behind the shoulders like antelope horns,
giving the uncouth warrior a droll appearance. A dozen cartridges,
each in an iron case, were slung round the waist, and they also wore
the long knife, flint, steel, and iron tobacco-pipe, pouch, and
purse, suspended to a leathern girdle.
The night was fine, but intensely cold, and the vault of heaven was
very dark, and blazing with stars; the sir was electrical, and flash
lightning illumined the sky; this was the reflection of a storm that
was not felt at Dorjiling, but which raged on the plains of India,
beyond the Terai, fully 120 miles, and perhaps 150, south of our
position. No thunder was heard. The thermometer fell to 5 degrees,
and that in the reflector to 3.5 degrees; at sunrise it rose to 10
degrees, and soon after 8 a.m. to 33 degrees; till this hour the
humidity was great, and a thin mist hung over the frozen surface of
the rocky ground; when this dispersed, the air became very dry, and
the black-bulb thermometer in the sun rose 60 degrees above the
temperature in the shade. The light of the sun, though sometimes
intercepted by vapours aloft, was very brilliant.* [My black glass
photometer shut out the sun's disc at 10.509 inches, from the mean of
four sets of observations taken between 7 and 10 a.m.]
This being the migrating season, swallows flitted through the air;
finches, larches, and sparrows were hopping over the sterile soil,
seeking food, though it was difficult to say what. The geese* [An
enormous quantity of water-fowl breed in Tibet, including many Indian
species that migrate no further north. The natives collect their eggs
for the markets at Jigatzi, Giantchi, and Lhassa, along the banks of
the Yarn river, Ramchoo, and Yarbru and Dochen lakes. Amongst other
birds the Sara, or great crane of India (see "Turner's Tibet,"
p. 212), repairs to these enormous elevations to breed. The fact of
birds characteristic of the tropics dwelling for months in such
climates is a very instructive one, and should be borne in mind in
our speculations upon the climate supposed to be indicated by the
imbedded bones of birds.] which had roosted by the river, cackled;
the wild ducks quacked and plumed themselves; ouzels and waders
screamed or chirped; and all rejoiced as they prepared themselves for
the last flight of the year, to the valleys of the southern Himalaya,
to the Teesta, and other rivers of the Terai and plains of India.
The Dingpun paid his respects to us in the morning, wearing, besides
his green cloak, a white cap with a green glass button, denoting his
rank; he informed us that he had written to his superior officer at
Kambajong, explaining his motives for conducting us across the
frontier, and he drew from his breast a long letter, written on
_Daphne_* [Most of the paper used in Tibet is, as I have elsewhere
noticed, made from the bark of various species of _Daphneae,_ and
especially of _Edgeworthia Gardneri,_ and is imported from Nepal and
Bhotan; but the Tibetans, as MM. Huc and Gabet correctly state,
manufacture a paper from the root of a small shrub: this I have seen,
and it is of a much thicker texture and more durable than Daphne
paper. Dr. Thomson informs me that a species of _Astragalus_ is used
in western Tibet for this purpose, the whole shrub, which is dwarf,
being reduced to pulp.] paper, whose ends were tied with floss silk,
with a large red seal; this he pompously delivered, with whispered
orders, to an attendant, and sent him off. He admired our clothes
extremely,* [All Tibetans admire sad value English broad-cloth beyond
any of our products. Woollen articles are very familiar to them, and
warm clothing is one of the first requisites of life.] and then my
percussion gun, the first he had seen; but above all he admired rum
and water, which he drank with intense relish, leaving a mere sip for
his comrades at the bottom of his little wooden cup, which they
emptied, and afterwards licked clean, and replaced in his breast for
him. We made a large basin full of very weak grog for his party, who
were all friendly and polite; and having made us the unexpected offer
of allowing us to rest ourselves for the day at Yeumtso, he left us,
and practised his men at firing at a mark, but they were very
indifferent shots.
I ascended with Campbell to the lake he had visited on the previous
day, about 600 or 800 feet above Yeumtso, and 17,500 feet above the
sea: it is a mile and a half long, and occupies a large depression
between two rounded spurs, being fed by glaciers from Kinchinjhow.
The rocks of these spurs were all of red quartz and slates, cut into
broad terraces, covered with a thick glacial talus of gneiss and
granite in angular pebbles, and evidently spread over the surface
when the glacier, now occupying the upper end of the lake, extended
over the valley.
The ice on the cliffs and summit of Kinchinjhow was much greener and
clearer than that on the south face (opposite Palung); and rows of
immense icicles hung from the cliffs. A conferva grew in the waters
of the lake, and short, hard tufts of sedge on the banks, but no
other plants were to be seen. Brahminee geese, teal, and widgeon,
were swimming in the waters, and a beetle (_Elaphrus_) was coursing
over the wet banks; finches and other small birds were numerous,
eating the sedge-seeds, and picking up the insects. No view was
obtained to the north, owing to the height of the mountains on the
north flank of the Lachen.
At noon the temperature rose to 52.5 degrees, and the black-bulb to
104.5 degrees; whilst the north-west dusty wind was so dry, that the
dew-point fell to 24.2 degrees.
CHAPTER XXIV.
Ascent of Bhomtso -- View of snowy mountains -- Chumulari -- Arun
river -- Kiang-lah mountains -- Jigatzi -- Lhama -- Dingcham province
of Tibet -- Misapplication of term "Plain of Tibet" -- Sheep, flocks
of -- Crops -- Probable elevation of Jigatzi -- Yarn -- Tsampu river
-- Tame elephants -- Wild horses -- Dryness of air -- Sunset beams --
Rocks of Kinchinjhow -- Cholamoo lakes -- Limestone -- Dip and strike
of rocks -- Effects of great elevation on party -- Ascent of Donkia
-- Moving piles of debris -- Cross Donkia pass -- Second Visit to
Momay Samdong -- Hot springs -- Descent to Yeumtong -- Lachoong --
Retardation of vegetation again noticed -- Jerked meat -- Fish --
Lose a thermometer -- Lepcha lad sleeps in hot spring -- Keadom --
_Bucklandia_ -- Arrive at Choongtam -- Mendicant -- Meepo --
Lachen-Lachoong river -- Wild grape -- View from Singtam of
Kinchinjunga -- Virulent nettle.
In the afternoon we crossed the valley, and ascended Bhomtso, fording
the river, whose temperature was 48 degrees. Some stupendous boulders
of gneiss from Kinchinjhow are deposited in a broad sandy track on
the north bank, by ancient glaciers, which once crossed this valley
from Kinchinjhow.
The ascent was alternately over steep rocky slopes, and broad
shelf-like flats; many more plants grew here than I had expected, in
inconspicuous scattered tufts.* [Besides those before mentioned,
there were Fescue-grass (_Festuca ovina_ of Scotland), a
strong-scented silky wormwood (_Artemisia_), and round tufts of
_Oxytropis chiliophylla,_ a kind of _Astralagus_ that inhabits
eastern and western Tibet; this alone was green: it formed great
circles on the ground, the centre decaying, and the annual shoots
growing outwards, and thus constantly enlarging the circle. A woolly
_Leontopodium, Androsace,_ and some other plants assumed nearly the
same mode of growth. The rest of the vegetation consisted of a
_Sedum, Nardostachys Jatamansi, Meconopsis horridula,_ a slender
_Androsace, Gnaphalium, Stipa, Salvia, Draba, Pedicularis,
Potentilla_ or _Sibbaldia, Gentiana_ and _Erigeron alpinus_ of
Scotland. All these grow nearly up to 18,000 feet.] The rocks were
nearly vertical strata of quartz, hornstone, and conglomerate,
striking north-west, and dipping south-west 80 degrees. The broad top
of the hill was also of quartz, but covered with angular pebbles of
the rocks transported from Kinchinjhow. Some clay-stone fragments
were stained red with oxide of iron, and covered with _Parmelia
miniata_;* [This minute lichen, mentioned at chapter xxxii, is the
most Arctic, Antarctic, and Alpine in the world; often occurring so
abundantly as to colour the rocks of an orange red. This was the case
at Bhomtso, and is so also in Cockburn Island in the Antarctic ocean,
which it covers so profusely that the rocks look as if brightly
painted. See "Ross's Voyage," vol. ii. p. 339.] this, with _Borrera,_
another lichen, which forms stringy masses blown along by the wind,
were the only plants, and they are among the most alpine in
the world.
Bhomtso is 18,590 feet above the sea by barometer, and 18,305 by
boiling-point: it presented an infinitely more extensive prospect
than I had ventured to anticipate, commanding all the most important
Sikkim, North Bhotan, and Tibetan mountains, including Kinchinjunga
thirty-seven miles to the south-west, and Chumulari thirty-nine miles
south-east. Due south, across the sandy valley of the Lachen,
Kinchinjhow reared its long wall of glaciers and rugged precipices,
22,000 feet high, and under its cliffs lay the lake to which we had
walked in the morning: beyond Kongra Lama were the Thlonok mountains,
where I had spent the month of June, with Kinchinjunga in the
distance. Westward Chomiomo rose abruptly from the rounded hills we
were on, to 22,000 feet elevation, ten miles distant. To the east of
Kinchinjhow were the Cholamoo lakes, with the rugged mass of Donkia
stretching in cliffs of ice and snow continuously southwards to
forked Donkia, which overhung Momay Samdong.
A long sloping spur sweeps from the north of Donkia first north, and
then west to Bhomtso, rising to a height of more than 20,000 feet
without snow. Over this spur the celebrated Chumulari* [Some doubt
still hangs over the identity of this mountain, chiefly owing to
Turner's having neglected to observe his geographical positions.
I saw a much loftier mountain than this, bearing from Bhomtso north
87 degrees out, and it was called Chumulari by the Tibetan Sepoys;
but it does not answer to Turner's description of an isolated snowy
peak, such as he approached within three miles; and though in the
latitude he assigned to it, is fully sixty miles to the east of his
route. A peak, similar to the one he degcribes, is seen from Tonglo
and Sinchul (see vol. i., chapters v and viii); this is the one
alluded to above, and it is identified by both Tibetans and Lepchas
at Dorjiling as the true Chumulari, and was measured by Colonel
Waugh, who placed it in lat. 27 degrees 49 minutes north, long. 89
degrees 18 minutes east. The latter position, though fifteen miles
south of what Turner gives it, is probably correct; as Pemberton
found that Turner had put other places in Bhotan twenty miles too far
north. Moreover, in saying that it is visible from Purnea in the
plains of Bengal, Turner refers to Kinchinjunga, whose elevation was
then unknown. Dr. Campbell ("Bengal As. Soc. Jour.," 1848), describes
Chumulari from oral information, as an isolated mountain encircled by
twenty-one goompas, and perambulated by pilgrims in five days; the
Lachoong Phipun, on the other hand, who was a Lama, and well
acquainted with the country, affirmed that Chumulari has many tops,
and cannot be perambulated; but that detached peaks near it may be,
and that it is to a temple near one of these that pilgrims resort.
Again, the natives use these names very vaguely, and as that of
Kinchinjunga is often applied equally to all or any part of the group
of snows between the Lachen and Tambur rivers, so may the term
Chumulari have been used vaguely to Captain Turner or to me. I have
been told that an isolated, snow-topped, venerated mountain rises
about twenty miles south of the true Chumulari, and is called
"Sakya-khang" (Sakya's snowy mountain), which may be that seen from
Dorjiling; but I incline to consider Campbell's and Waugh's mountain
as the one alluded to by Turner, and it is to it that I here refer as
bearing north 115 degrees 30 minutes east from Bhomtso.] peeps,
bearing south-east, and from its isolated position and sharpness
looking low and small; it appeared quite near, though thirty-nine
miles distant.
North-east of Chumulari, and far beyond it, are several meridional
ranges of very much loftier snowy mountains, which terminated the
view of the snowy Himalaya; the distance embraced being fully 150
miles, and perhaps much more. Of one of these eastern masses* [] I
afterwards took
"
These are probably the Ghassa mountains of Turners narrative:
bearings which I took of one of the loftiest of them, from the Khasia
mountains, together with those from Bhomtso, would appear to place it
in latitude 28 degrees 10 minutes and longitude 90 degrees, and 200
miles from the former station, and 90 degrees east of the latter.
Its elevation from Bhomtso angles is 24,160 feet. I presume I also
saw Chumulari from the Khasia; the most western peak seen thence
being in the direction of that mountain. Captain R. Strachey has most
kindly paid close attention to these bearings and distances, and
recalculated the distances and heights: no confidence is, however, to
be placed in the results of such minute angles, taken from immense
distances. Owing in part no doubt to extraordinary refraction, the
angles of the Ghassa mountain taken from the Khasia give it an
elevation of 26,500 feet! which is very much over the truth; and make
that of Chumulari still higher: the distance from my position in the
Khasia being 210 miles from Chumulari! which is probably the utmost
limit at which the human eye has ever discerned a terrestrial
object.] I afterwards took bearings and angular heights from the
Khasia mountains, in Bengal, upwards of 200 miles south-east of
its position.
Turning to the northward, a singular contrast in the view was
presented: the broad sandy valley of the Arun lay a few miles off,
and perhaps 1,500 feet below me; low brown and red ridges, 18,000 to
19,000 feet high, of stony sloping mountains with rocky tops, divided
its feeders, which appeared to be dry, and to occupy flat sandy
valleys. For thirty miles north no mountain was above the level of
the theodolite, and not a particle of snow was to be seen beyond
that, rugged purple-flanked and snowy-topped mountains girdled
the horizon, appearing no nearer than they did from the Donkia pass,
and their angular heights and bearings being almost the same as from
that point of view. The nearer of these are said to form the
Kiang-lah chain, the furthest I was told by different authorities are
in the salt districts north of Jigatzi.
To the north-east was the lofty region traversed by Turner on his
route by the Ramchoo lakes to Teshoo Loombo; its elevation may be
17,000 feet* [It is somewhat remarkable that Turner nowhere alludes
to difficulty of breathing, and in one place only to head-ache
(p. 209) when at these great elevations. This is in a great measure
accounted for by his having been constantly mounted. I never suffered
either in my breathing, head, or stomach when riding, even when at
18,300 feet.] above the sea. Beyond it a gorge led through rugged
mountains, by which I was told the Painom river flows north-west to
the Yaru; and at an immense distance to the north-east were the
Khamba mountains, a long blue range, which it is said divides the
Lhassan or "U" from the "Tsang" (or Jigatzi) province of Tibet; it
appeared fully 100 miles off, and was probably much more; it bore
from N. 57 degrees E. to N. 70 degrees E., and though so lofty as to
be heavily snowed throughout, was much below the horizon-line of
Bhomtso; it is crossed on the route from Jigatzi, and from Sikkim to
Lhassa,* [Lhassa, which lies north-east, may be reached in ten days
from this, with relays of ponies; many mountains are crossed, where
the breath is affected, and few villages are passed after leaving
Giantchi, the "Jhansi jeung" of Turner's narrative. See Campbell's
"Routes from Dorjiling to Lhassa." ("Bengal As. Soc. Journal.")] and
is considered very lofty, from affecting the breathing. About twenty
miles to the north-east are some curious red conical mountains, said
to be on the west side of the Ramchoo lakes; they were unsnowed, and
bore N. 45 degrees 30 minutes E. and N. 60 degrees 30 minutes E.
A sparingly-snowed group bore N. 26 degrees 30 minutes E., and
another N. 79 degrees E., the latter being probably that mentioned by
Turner as seen by him from near Giantchi.
But the mountains which appeared both the highest and the most
distant on the northern landscape, were those I described when at
Donkia, as being north of Nepal and beyond the Arun river, and the
culminant peak of which bore N. 55 degrees. Both Dr. Campbell and I
made repeated estimates of its height and distance by the eye;
comparing its size and snow-level with those of the mountains near
us; and assuming 4000 to 5000 feet as the minimum height of its snowy
cap; this would give it an elevation of 23,000 to 25,000 feet.
An excellent telescope brought out no features on its flanks not
visible to the naked eye, and by the most careful levellings with the
theodolite, it was depressed more than 0 degrees 7 minutes below the
horizon of Bhomtso, whence the distance must be above 100 miles.
The transparency of the pale-blue atmosphere of these lofty regions
can hardly be described, nor the clearness and precision with which
the most distant objects are projected against the sky. From having
afterwards measured peaks 200 and 210 miles distant from the Khasia
mountains, I feel sure that I underrated the estimates made at
Bhomtso, and I have no hesitation in saying, that the mean elevation
of the sparingly-snowed* [Were the snow-level in Dingcham, as low as
it is in Sikkim, the whole of Tibet from Donkia almost to the
Yaru-Tsampu river would be everywhere intersected by glaciers and
other impassable barriers of snow and ice, for a breadth of fifty
miles, and the country would have no parallel for amount of snow
beyond the Polar circles. It is impossible to conjecture what would
have been the effects on the climate of northern India and central
Asia under these conditions. When, however, we reflect upon the
evidences of glacial phenomena that abound in all the Himalayan
valleys at and above 9000 feet elevation, it is difficult to avoid
the conclusion that such a state of things once existed, and that at
a comparatively very recent period.] watershed between the Yaru and
the Arun will be found to be greater than that of the snowy Himalaya
south of it, and to follow the chain running from Donkia, north of
the Arun, along the Kiang-lah mountains, towards the Nepal frontier,
at Tingri Maidan. No part of that watershed perhaps rises so high as
24,000 feet, but its lowest elevation is probably nowhere under
18,000 feet.
This broad belt of lofty country, north of the snowy Himalaya, is the
Dingcham province of Tibet, and runs along the frontier of Sikkim,
Bhotan, and Nepal. It gives rise to all the Himalayan rivers, and its
mean elevation is probably 15,000 to 15,500 feet: its general
appearance, as seen from greater heights, is that of a much less
mountainous country than the snowy and wet Himalayan regions; this is
because its mean elevation is so enormous, that ranges of 20,000 to
22,000 feet appear low and insignificant upon it. The absence of
forest and other obstructions to the view, the breadth and flatness
of the valleys, and the undulating character of the lower ranges that
traverse its surface, give it a comparatively level appearance, and
suggest the term "maidan" or "plains" to the Tibetan, when comparing
his country with the complicated ridges of the deep Sikkim valleys.
Here one may travel for many miles without rising or falling 3000
feet, yet never descending below 14,000 feet, partly because the flat
winding valleys are followed in preference to exhausting ascents, and
partly because the passes are seldom more than that elevation above
the valleys; whereas, in Sikkim, rises and descents of 6000, and even
9000 feet, are common in passing from valley to valley, sometimes in
one day's march.
The swarthy races of Dingcham have been elsewhere described; they are
an honest, hospitable, and very hardy people, differing from the
northern Tibetans chiefly in colour, and in invariably wearing the
pigtail, which MM. Huc and Gabet assure us is not usual in Lhassa.*
[Amongst Lhassan customs alluded to by these travellers, is that of
the women smearing their faces with a black pigment, the object of
which they affirm to be that they may render themselves odious to the
male sex, and thus avoid temptation. The custom is common enough, but
the real object is to preserve the skin, which the dry cold wind
peels from the face. The pigment is mutton-fat, blackened, according
to Tchebu Lama, with catechu and other ingredients; but I believe
more frequently by the dirt of the face itself. I fear I do not
slander the Tibetan damsels in saying that personal cleanliness and
chastity are both lightly esteemed amongst them; and as the Lama
naively remarked, when questioned on the subject, "the Tibetan women
are not so different from those of other countries as to wish to
conceal what charms they possess."] They are a pastoral race, and
Campbell saw a flock of 400 hornless sheep, grazing on short sedges
(_Carex_) and fescue-grass, in the middle of October, at 18,000 feet
above the sea. An enormous ram attended the flock, whose long hair
hung down to the ground; its back was painted red.
There is neither tree nor shrub in this country; and a very little
wheat (which seldom ripens), barley, turnips, and radishes are, I
believe, the only crops, except occasionally peas. Other legumes,
cabbages, etc., are cultivated in the sheltered valleys of the Yaru
feeders, where great heat is reflected from the rocks; and there also
stunted trees grow, as willows, walnuts, poplars, and perhaps ashes;
all of which, however, are said to be planted and scarce. Even at
Teshoo Loombo and Jigatzi* [Digarchi, Jigatzi, or Shigatzi jong (the
fort of Shigatzi) is the capital of the "Tsang" province, and Teshoo
Loombo is the neighbouring city of temples and monasteries, the
ecclesiastical capital of Tibet, and the abode of the grand (Teshoo)
Lama, or ever-living Boodh. Whether we estimate this man by the
number of his devotees, or the perfect sincerity of their worship, he
is without exception one of the most honoured beings living in the
world. I have assumed the elevation of Jigatzi to be 13-14,000 feet,
using as data Turner's October mean temperature of Teshoo Loombo, and
the decrement for elevation of 400 feet to 1 degree Fahr.; which my
own observations indicate as an approximation to the truth. Humboldt
("Asie Centrale," iii., p. 223) uses a much smaller multiplier, and
infers the elevation of Teshoo Loombo to be between 9,500 and 10,000
feet. Our data are far too imperfect to warrant any satisfactory
conclusions on this interesting subject; but the accounts I have
received of the vegetation of the Yaru valley at Jigatzi seem to
indicate an elevation of at least 13,000 feet for the bed of that
river. Of the elevation of Lhassa itself we have no idea: if MM. Huc
and Gabet's statement of the rivers not being frozen there in March
be correct, the climate must be very different from what we suppose.]
buckwheat is a rare crop, and only a prostrate very hardy kind is
grown. Clay teapots and pipkins are the most valuable exports to
Sikkim from the latter city, after salt and soda. Jewels and woollen
cloaks are also exported, the latter especially from Giantchi, which
is famous for its woollen fabrics and mart of ponies.
Of the Yaru river at Jigatzi, which all affirm becomes the
Burrampooter in Assam, I have little information to add to Turner's
description: it is sixty miles north of Bhomtso, and I assume its
elevation to be 13-14,000 feet;* [The Yaru, which approaches the
Nepal frontier west of Tingri, and beyond the great mountain
described at vol. i. chapter xi, makes a sweep to the northward, and
turns south to Jigatzi, whence it makes another and greater bend to
the north, and again turning south flows west of Lhassa, receiving
the Kechoo river from that holy city. From Jigatzi it is said to be
navigable to near Lhassa by skin and plank-built boats. Thence it
flows south-east to the Assam frontier, and while still in Tibet, is
said to enter a warm climate, where tea, silk, cotton, and rice, are
grown. Of its course after entering the Assam Himalaya little is
known, and in answer to my enquiries why it had not been followed, I
was always told that the country through which it flowed was
inhabited by tribes of savages, who live on snakes and vermin, and
are fierce and warlike. These are no doubt the Singpho, Bor and
Bor-abor tribes who inhabit the mountains of upper Assam.
A travelling mendicant was once sent to follow up the Dihong to the
Burrampooter, under the joint auspices of Mr. Hodgson and Major
Jenkins, the Commissioner of Assam; but the poor fellow was speared
on the frontier by these savages. The concurrent testimony of the
Assamese, that the Dihong is the Yaru, on its southern course to
become the Burrampooter, renders this point as conclusively settled
as any, resting on mere oral evidence, is likely to be.] it takes an
immense bend to the northward after passing Jigatzi, and again turns
south, flowing to the west of Lhassa, and at some distance from that
capital. Lhassa, as all agree, is at a much lower elevation than
Jigatzi; and apricots (whose ripe stones Dr. Campbell procured for
me) and walnuts are said to ripen there, and the Dama or Himalayan
furze (_Caragana_), is said to grow there. The Bactrian camel also
thrives and breeds at Lhassa, together with a small variety of cow
(not the yak), both signs of a much more temperate climate than
Jigatzi enjoys. It is, however, a remarkable fact that there are two
tame elephants near the latter city, kept by the Teshoo Lama.
They were taken to Jigatzi, through Bhotan, by Phari; and I have been
informed that they have become clothed with long hair, owing to the
cold of the climate; but Tchebu Lama contradicted this, adding, that
his countrymen were so credulous, that they would believe blankets
grew on the elephants' backs, if the Lamas told them so.
No village or house is seen throughout the extensive area over which
the eye roams from Bhomtso, and the general character of the desolate
landscape was similar to that which I have described as seen from
Donkia Pass (chapter xxii). The wild ass* [This, the _Equus Hemionus_
of Pallas, the untameable Kiang of Tibet, abounds in Dingcham, and we
saw several. It resembles the ass more than the horse, from its size,
heavy head, small limbs, thin tail, and the stripe over the shoulder.
The flesh is eaten and much liked. The Kiang-lah mountains are so
named from their being a great resort of this creature. It differs
widely from the wild ass of Persia, Sind, and Beloochistan, but is
undoubtedly the same as the Siberian animal.] grazing with its foal
on the sloping downs, the hare bounding over the stony soil, the
antelope scouring the sandy flats, and the fox stealing along to his
burrow, are all desert and Tartarian types of the animal creation.
The shrill whistle of the marmot alone breaks the silence of the
scene, recalling the snows of Lapland to the mind; the kite and raven
wheel through the air, 1000 feet over head, with as strong and steady
a pinion as if that atmosphere possessed the same power of resistance
that it does at the level of the sea. Still higher in the heavens,
long black V-shaped trains of wild geese cleave the air, shooting
over the glacier-crowned top of Kinchinjhow, and winging their flight
in one day, perhaps, from the Yaru to the Ganges, over 500 miles of
space, and through 22,000 feet of elevation. One plant alone, the
yellow lichen (_Borrera_), is found at this height, and only as a
visitor; for, Tartar-like, it emigrates over these lofty slopes and
ridges, blown about by the violent winds. I found a small beetle on
the very top,* [I observed a small red _Acarus_ (mite) at this
elevation, both on Donkia and Kinchinjhow, which reminds me that I
found a species of the same genus at Cockburn Island (in latitude 64
degrees south, longitude 64 degrees 49 minutes west). This genus
hence inhabits a higher southern latitude than any other land animal
attains.] probably blown up also, for it was a flower-feeder, and
seemed benumbed with cold.
Every night that we spent in Tibet, we enjoyed a magnificent display
of sunbeams converging to the east, and making a false sunset.
I detailed this phenomenon when seen from the Kymore mountains, and I
repeatedly saw it again in the Khasia, but never in the Sikkim
Himalaya, whence I assume that it is most frequent in mountain
plateaus. As the sun set, broad purple beams rose from a dark, low,
leaden bank on the eastern horizon, and spreading up to the zenith,
covered the intervening space: they lasted through the twilight, from
fifteen to twenty minutes, fading gradually into the blackness of
night. I looked in vain for the beautiful lancet beam of the zodiacal
light; its position was obscured by Chomiomo.
On the 18th of October we had another brilliant morning, after a cold
night, the temperature having fallen to 4 degrees. I took the
altitude of Yeumtso by carefully boiling two thermometers, and the
result was 16,279 feet, the barometrical observations giving 16,808
feet. I removed a thermometer sunk three feet in the gravelly soil,
which showed a temperature of 43 degrees,* [It had risen to 43.5
degrees during the previous day.] which is 12.7 degrees above the
mean temperature of the two days we camped here.
Our fires were made of dry yak droppings which soon burn out with a
fierce flame, and much black smoke; they give a disagreeable taste to
whatever is cooked with them.
Having sent the coolies forward to Cholamoo lake, we re-ascended
Bhomtso to verify my observations. As on the previous occasion a
violent dry north-west wind blew, peeling the skin from our faces,
loading the air with grains of sand, and rendering theodolite
observations very uncertain; besides injuring all my instruments, and
exposing them to great risk of breakage.
The Tibetan Sepoys did not at all understand our ascending Bhomtso a
second time; they ran after Campbell, who was ahead on a stout pony,
girding up their long garments, bracing their matchlocks tight over
their shoulders, and gasping for breath at every step, the long horns
of their muskets bobbing up and down as they toiled amongst the
rocks. When I reached the top I found Campbell seated behind a little
stone wall which he had raised to keep off the violent wind, and the
uncouth warriors in a circle round him, puzzled beyond measure at his
admiration of the view. My instruments perplexed them extremely, and
in crowding round me, they broke my azimuth compass. They left us to
ourselves when the fire I made to boil the thermometers went out, the
wind being intensely cold. I had given my barometer to one of
Campbell's men to carry, who not coming up, the latter kindly went to
search for him, and found him on the ground quite knocked up and
stupified by the cold, and there, if left alone, he would have lain
till overtaken by death.
The barometer on the summit of Bhomtso stood at 15.548 inches;* [The
elevation of Bhomtso, worked by Bessel's tables, and using corrected
observations of the Calcutta barometer for the lower station, is
18,590 feet. The corresponding dew-point 4.4 degrees (49.6 degrees
below that of the air at the time of observation). By Oltmann's
tables the elevation is 18,540 feet. The elevation by boiling water
is 18,305.] the temperature between 11.30 a.m. and 2.30 p.m.
fluctuated between 44 degrees and 56 degrees: this was very high for
so great an elevation, and no doubt due to the power of the sun on
the sterile soil, and consequent radiated heat. The tension of vapour
was .0763, and the dew-point was 5.8 degrees, or 43.5 degrees below
the temperature of the air. Such extraordinary dryness* [The weight
of vapour in a cubic foot of air was no more than .087 of a grain,
and the saturation-point .208.] and consequent evaporation, increased
by the violent wind, sufficiently accounts for the height of the snow
line; in further evidence of which, I may add that a piece of ice or
snow laid on the ground here, does not melt, but disappears
by evaporation.
The difference between the dry cold air of this elevation and that of
the heated plains of India, is very great. During the driest winds of
the Terai, in spring, the temperature is 80 degrees to 90 degrees,
the tension of vapour is .400 to .500, with a dew-point 22 degrees
below the temperature, and upwards of six grains of vapour are
suspended in the cubic foot of air; a thick haze obscures the
heavens, and clouds of dust rise high in the air; here on the other
hand (probably owing to the rarity of the atmosphere and the low
tension of its vapours), the drought is accompanied by perfect
transparency, and the atmosphere is too attenuated to support the
dust raised by the wind.
We descended in the afternoon, and on our way up the Lachen valley
examined a narrow gulley in a lofty red spur from Kinchinjhow, where
black shales were _in situ,_ striking north-east, and dipping
north-west 45 degrees. These shales were interposed between beds of
yellow quartz conglomerate, upon the latter of which rested a talus
of earthy rocks, angular fragments of which were strewed about
opposite this spur, but were not seen elsewhere.
It became dark before we reached the Cholamoo lake, where we lost our
way amongst glaciers, moraines, and marshes. We expected to have seen
the lights of the camp, but were disappointed, and as it was freezing
hard, we began to be anxious, and shouted till the echos of our
voices against the opposite bank were heard by Tchebu Lama, who met
us in great alarm for our safety. Our camp was pitched some way from
the shore, on a broad plain, 16,900 feet above the sea.* [This, which
is about the level of the lake, gives the Lachen river a fall of
about 1500 feet between its source and Kongra Lama, or sixty feet per
mile following its windings. From Kongra Lama to Tallum it is 140
feet per mile; from Tallum to Singtam 160 feet; and from Singtam to
the plains of India 50 feet per mile. The total fall from Cholamoo
lake to its exit on the plains of India is eighty-five feet per mile.
Its length, following its windings, is 195 miles, upwards of double
the direct distance.] A cold wind descended from Donkia; yet, though
more elevated than Yeumtso, the climate of Cholamoo, from being
damper and misty, was milder. The minimum thermometer fell to
14 degrees.
Before starting for Donkia pass on the following morning, we visited
some black rocks which rose from the flat to the east of the lake.
They proved to be of fossiliferous limestone, the strata of which
were much disturbed: the strike appeared in one part north-west, and
the dip north-east 45 degrees: a large fault passed east by north
through the cliff, and it was further cleft by joints running
northwards. The cliff was not 100 yards long, and was about 70 thick;
its surface was shivered by frost into cubical masses, and glacial
boulders of gneiss lay on the top. The limestone rock was chiefly a
blue pisolite conglomerate, with veins and crystals of white
carbonate of lime, seams of shale, and iron pyrites. A part was
compact and blue, very crystalline, and full of encrinitic fossils,
and probably nummulites, but all were too much altered for
determination.
This, from its mineral characters, appears to be the same limestone
formation which occurs throughout the Himalaya and Western Tibet; but
the fossils I collected are in too imperfect a state to warrant any
conclusions on this subject. Its occurrence immediately to the
northward of the snowy mountains, and in such very small quantities,
are very remarkable facts. The neighbouring rocks of Donkia were
gneiss with granite veins, also striking north-west and dipping
north-east 10 degrees, as if they overlay the limestone, but here as
in all similar situations there was great confusion of the strata,
and variation in direction and strike.
And here I may once for all confess that though I believe the general
strike of the rocks on this frontier to be north-west, and the dip
north-east, I am unable to affirm it positively; for though I took
every opportunity of studying the subject, and devoted many hours to
the careful measuring and recording of dips and strikes, on both
faces of Kinchinjhow, Donkia, Bhomtso, and Kongra Lama, I am unable
to reduce these to any intelligible system.* [North-west is the
prevalent strike in Kumaon, the north-west Himalaya generally, and
throughout Western Tibet, Kashmir, etc., according to Dr. Thomson.]
The coolies of Dr. Campbell's party were completely knocked up by the
rarified air; they had taken a whole day to march here from Yeumtso,
scarcely six miles, and could eat no food at night. A Lama of our
party offered up prayers* [All diseases are attributed by the
Tibetans to the four elements, who are propitiated accordingly in
cases of severe illness. The winds are invoked in cases of affections
of the breathing; fire in fevers and inflammations; water in dropsy,
and diseases whereby the fluids are affected; and the God of earth
when solid organs are diseased, as in liver-complaints, rheumatism,
etc. Propitiatory offerings are made to the deities of these
elements, but never sacrifices.] to Kinchinjhow for the recovery of a
stout Lepcha lad (called Nurko), who showed no signs of animation,
and had all the symptoms of serous apoplexy. The Lama perched a
saddle on a stone, and burning incense before it, scattered rice to
the winds, invoking Kinchin, Donkia, and all the neighbouring peaks.
A strong dose of calomel and jalap, which we poured down the sick
lad's throat, contributed materially to the success of these
incantations.
The Tibetan Sepoys were getting tired of our delays, which so much
favoured my operations; but though showing signs of impatience and
sulkiness, they behaved well to the last; taking the sick man to the
top of the pass on their yaks, and assisting all the party: nothing,
however, would induce them to cross into Sikkim, which they
considered as "Company's territory."
Before proceeding to the pass, I turned off to the east, and
re-ascended Donkia to upwards of 19,000 feet, vainly hoping to get a
more distant view, and other bearings of the Tibetan mountains.
The ascent was over enormous piles of loose rocks split by the frost,
and was extremely fatiguing. I reached a peak overhanging a steep
precipice, at whose base were small lakes and glaciers, from which
flowed several sources of the Lachen, afterwards swelled by the great
affluent from Cholamoo lake. A few rocks striking north-east and
dipping north-west, projected at the very summit, with frozen snow
amongst them, beyond which the ice and precipices rendered it
impossible to proceed: but though exposed to the north, there was no
perpetual snow in the ordinary acceptation of the term, and an arctic
European lichen (_Lecidea oreina_) grew on the top, so faintly
discolouring the rocks as hardly to be detected without a
magnifying-glass.
I descended obliquely, down a very steep slope of 35 degrees, over
upwards of a thousand feet of debris, the blocks on which were so
loosely poised on one another, that it was necessary to proceed with
the utmost circumspection, for I was alone, and a false step would
almost certainly have been followed by breaking a leg. The alternate
freezing and thawing of rain amongst these masses, must produce a
constant downward motion in the whole pile of debris (which was
upwards of 2000 feet high), and may account for the otherwise
unexplained phenomenon of continuous shoots of angular rocks reposing
on very gentle slopes in other places.* [May not the origin of the
streams of quartz blocks that fill gently sloping broad valleys
several miles long, in the Falkland Islands, be thus explained? (See
"Darwin's Journal," in Murray's Home and Col. Lib.) The extraordinary
shifting in the position of my thermometer left among the rocks of
the Donkia pass (see chapter xxii), and the mobile state of the
slopes I descended on this occasion, first suggested this explanation
to me. When in the Falkland Islands I was wholly unable to offer any
explanation of the phenomenon there, to which my attention had been
drawn by Mr. Darwin's narrative.]
The north ascent to the Donkia pass is by a path well selected
amongst immense angular masses of rock, and over vast piles of
debris: the strike on this, the north face, was again north-east, and
dip north-west: I arrived at the top at 3 p.m., throughly fatigued,
and found my faithful Lepcha lads (Cheytoong and Bassebo) nestling
under a rock with my theodolite and barometers, having been awaiting
my arrival in the biting wind for three hours. My pony stood there
too, the picture of patience, and laden with minerals.
After repeating my observations, I proceeded to Momay Samdong, where
I arrived after dusk. I left a small bottle of brandy and some
biscuits with the lads, and it was well I did so, for the pony
knocked up before reaching Momay, and rather than leave my bags of
stones, they passed the night by the warm flank of the beast, under a
rock at 18,000 feet elevation, without other food, fire, or shelter.
I found my companion encamped at Momay, on the spot I had occupied in
September; he had had the utmost difficulty in getting his coolies
on, as they threw down their light loads in despair, and lying with
their faces to the ground, had to be roused from a lethargy that
would soon have been followed by death.
We rested for a day at Momay, and on the 20th, attempted to ascend to
the Donkia glacier, but were driven back by a heavy snow-storm.
The scenery on arriving here, presented a wide difference to that we
had left; snow lying at 16,500 feet, whereas immediately to the north
of the same mountain there was none at 19,000 feet. Before leaving
Momay; I sealed two small glass flasks containing the air of this
elevation, by closing with a spirit lamp a very fine capillary tube,
which formed the opening to each; avoiding the possibility of heating
the contents by the hand or otherwise. The result of its analysis by
Mr. Muller (who sent me the prepared flasks), was that it contained
36.538 per cent. in volume of oxygen; whereas his repeated analysis
of the air of Calcutta gives 21 per cent. Such a result is too
anomalous to be considered satisfactory.
I again visited the Kinchinjhow glacier and hot springs; the water
had exactly the same temperature as in the previous month, though the
mean temperature of the air was 8 degrees or 9 degrees lower.
The minimum thermometer fell to 22 degrees, being 10 degrees lower
than it ever fell in September.
We descended to Yeumtong in a cold drizzle, arriving by sunset; we
remained through the following day, hoping to explore the lower
glacier on the opposite side of the valley: which, however, the
weather entirely prevented. I have before mentioned (chapter xxiii)
that in descending in autumn from the drier and more sunny rearward
Sikkim valleys, the vegetation is found to be most backward in the
lowest and dampest regions. On this occasion, I found asters,
grasses, polygonums, and other plants that were withered, brown, and
seeding at Momay (14,000 to 15,000 feet), at Yeumtong (12,000 feet)
green and unripe; and 2000 feet lower still, at Lachoong, the
contrast was even more marked. Thus the short backward spring and
summer of the Arctic zone is overtaken by an early and forward
seed-time and winter: so far as regards the effects of mean
temperature, the warmer station is in autumn more backward than the
colder. This is everywhere obvious in the prevalent plants of each,
and is especially recognisable in the rhododendrons; as the following
table shows:--
16,000 to 17,000 feet, _R. nivale_ flowers in July; fruits in
September=2 months.
13,000 to 14,000 feet, _R. anthopogon_ flowers in June; fruits in
Oct.=4 months.
11,000 to 12,000 feet, _R. campanulatum_ flowers in May; fruits in
Nov.=8 months.
8,000 to 9,000 feet, _R. argenteum_ flowers in April; fruits in
Dec.=8 months.
And so it is with many species of _Compositae_ and _Umbelliferae,_
and indeed of all natural orders, some of which I have on the same
day gathered in ripe fruit at 13,000 to 14,000 feet, and found still
in flower at 9000 to 10,000 feet. The brighter skies and more
powerful and frequent solar radiation at the greater elevations,
account for this apparent inversion of the order of nature.* [The
distribution of the seasons at different elevations in the Himalaya
gives rise to some anomalies that have puzzled naturalists. From the
middle of October to that of May, vegetation is torpid above 14,000
feet, and indeed almost uniformly covered with snow. From November
till the middle of April, vegetation is also torpid above 10,000
feet, except that a few trees and bushes do not ripen all their seeds
till December. The three winter months (December, January, and
February) are all but dead above 6000 feet, the earliest appearance
of spring at Dorjiling (7000 feet) being at the sudden accession of
heat in March. From May till August the vegetation at each elevation
is (in ascending order) a month behind that below it; 4000 feet being
about equal to a month of summer weather in one sense. I mean by
this, that the genera and natural orders (and sometimes the species)
which flower at 8000 feet in May, are not so forward at 12,000 feet
till June, nor at 16,000 feet till July. After August, however, the
reverse holds good; then the vegetation is as forward at 16,000 feet
as at 8000 feet. By the end of September most of the natural orders
and genera have ripened their fruit in the upper zone, though they
have flowered as late as July; whereas October is the fruiting month
at 12,000, and November below 10,000 feet. Dr. Thomson does not
consider that the more sunny climate of the loftier elevations
sufficiently accounts for this, and adds the stimulus of cold, which
must act by checking the vegetative organs and hastening maturation.]
I was disappointed at finding the rhododendron seeds still immature
at Yeumtong, for I was doubtful whether the same kinds might be met
with at the Chola pass, which I had yet to visit; besides which,
their tardy maturation threatened to delay me for an indefinite
period in the country. _Viburnum_ and _Lonicera,_ however, were ripe
and abundant; the fruits of both are considered poisonous in Europe,
but here the black berries of a species of the former (called
"Nalum") are eatable and agreeable; as are those of a _Gualtheria,_
which are pale blue, and called "Kalumbo." Except these, and the
cherry mentioned above, there are no other autumnal fruits above
10,000 feet: brambles, strange as it may appear, do not ascend beyond
that elevation in the Sikkim Himalaya, though so abundant below it,
both in species and individuals, and though so typical of
northern Europe.
At Lachoong we found all the yaks that had been grazing till the end
of September at the higher elevations, and the Phipun presented our
men with one of a gigantic size, and proportionally old and tough.
The Lepchas barbarously slaughtered it with arrows, and feasted on
the flesh and entrails, singed and fried the skin, and made soup of
the bones, leaving nothing but the horns and hoofs. Having a fine
day, they prepared some as jerked meat, cutting it into thin strips,
which they dried on the rocks. This (called "Schat-chew," dried meat)
is a very common and favourite food in Tibet, I found it palatable;
but on the other hand, the dried saddles of mutton, of which they
boast so much, taste so strongly of tallow, that I found it
impossible to swallow a morsel of them.* [Raw dried split fish are
abundantly cured (without salt) in Tibet; they are caught in the Yaru
and great lakes of Ramchoo, Dobtah, and Yarbru, and are chiefly carp,
and allied fish, which attain a large size. It is one of the most
remarkable facts in the zoology of Asia, that no trout or salmon
inhabits any of the rivers that debouche into the Indian Ocean (the
so-called Himalayan trout is a species of carp). This widely
distributed natural order of fish (_Salmonidae_) is however, found in
the Oxus, and in all the rivers of central Asia that flow north and
west, and the _Salmo orientalis,_ M'Clelland ("Calcutta Journ. Nat.
Hist." iii., p. 283), was caught by Mr. Griffith (Journals, p. 404)
in the Bamean river (north of the Hindo Koosh) which flows into the
Oxus, and whose waters are separated by one narrow mountain ridge
from those of the feeders of the Indus. The central Himalayan rivers
often rise in Tibet from lakes full of fish, but have none (at least
during the rains) in that rapid part of their course from 10,000 to
14,000 feet elevation: below that fish abound, but I believe
invariably of different species from those found at the sources of
the same rivers. The nature of the tropical ocean into which all the
Himalayan rivers debouche, is no doubt the proximate cause of the
absence of _Salmonidae._ Sir John Richardson (Fishes of China Seas,
etc., "in Brit. Ass. Rep. etc."), says that no species of the order
has been found in the Chinese or eastern Asiatic seas.]
We staid two days at Lachoong, two of my lads being again laid up
with fever; one of them had been similarly attacked at the same place
nearly two months before: the other lad had been repeatedly ill since
June, and at all elevations. Both cases were returns of a fever
caught in the low unhealthy valleys some months previously, and
excited by exposure and hardship.
The vegetation at Lachoong was still beautiful, and the weather mild,
though snow had descended to 14,000 feet on Tunkra. _Compositae_ were
abundantly in flower, apples in young fruit, bushes of _Cotoneaster_
covered with scarlet berries, and the brushwood silvery with the
feathery heads of _Clematis._
I here found that I had lost a thermometer for high temperatures,
owing to a hole in the bag in which Cheytoong carried those of my
instruments which were in constant use. It had been last used at the
hot springs of the Kinchinjhow glacier; and the poor lad was so
concerned at his mishap, that he came to me soon afterwards, with his
blanket on his back, and a few handfuls of rice in a bag, to make his
salaam before setting out to search for it. There was not now a
single inhabitant between Lachoong and that dreary spot, and strongly
against my wish he started, without a companion. Three days
afterwards he overtook us at Keadom, radiant with joy at having found
the instrument: he had gone up to the hot springs, and vainly sought
around them that evening; then rather than lose the chance of a
day-light search on his way back, he had spent the cold October night
in the hot water, without fire or shelter, at 16,000 feet above the
sea. Next morning his search was again fruitless; and he was
returning disconsolate, when he descried the brass case glistening
between two planks of the bridge crossing the river at Momay, over
which torrent the instrument was suspended. The Lepchas have
generally been considered timorous of evil spirits, and especially
averse to travelling at night, even in company. However little this
gallant lad may have been given to superstition, he was nevertheless
a Lepcha, born in a warm region, and had never faced the cold till he
became my servant; and it required a stout heart and an honest one,
to spend a night in so awful a solitude as that which reigns around
the foot of the Kinchinjhow glacier.* [The fondness of natives for
hot springs wherever they occur is very natural and has been noticed
by Humboldt, "Pers. Narr." iv. 195, who states that on Christianity
being introduced into Iceland, the natives refused to be baptised in
any but the water of the Geysers. I have mentioned at chapter xxii
the uses to which the Yeumtong hot springs are put; and the custom of
using artificial hot baths is noticed at vol. i., chapter xiii.]
The villagers at Keadom, where we slept on the 26th, were busy
cutting the crops of millet, maize, and _Amaranthus._ A girl who, on
my way down the previous month, had observed my curiosity about a
singular variety of the maize, had preserved the heads on their
ripening, and now brought them to me. The peaches were all gathered,
and though only half ripe, were better than Dorjiling produce.
A magnificent tree of _Bucklandia,_ one of the most beautiful
evergreens in Sikkim, grew near this village; it had a trunk
twenty-one feet seven inches in girth, at five feet from the ground,
and was unbranched for forty feet.* [This superb tree is a great
desideratum in our gardens; I believe it would thrive in the warm
west of England. Its wood is brown, and not valuable as timber, but
the thick, bright, glossy, evergreen foliage is particularly
handsome, and so is the form of the crown. It is also interesting in
a physiological point of view, from the woody fibre being studded
with those curious microscopic discs so characteristic of pines, and
which when occurring on fossil wood are considered conclusive as to
the natural family to which such woods belong. Geologists should bear
in mind that not only does the whole natural order to which
_Bucklandia_ belongs, possess this character, but also various
species of _Magnoliaceae_ found in India, Australia, Borneo, and
South America.] Ferns and the beautiful air-plant _Coelogyne
Wallichii_ grew on its branches, with other orchids, while _Clematis_
and _Stauntonia_ climbed the trunk. Such great names (Buckland,
Staunton, and Wallich) thus brought before the traveller's notice,
never failed to excite lively and pleasing emotions: it is the
ignorant and unfeeling alone who can ridicule the association of the
names of travellers and naturalists with those of animals and plants.
We arrived at Choongtam (for the fourth time) at noon, and took up
our quarters in a good house near the temple. The autumn and winter
flowering plants now prevailed here, such as _Labiatae,_ which are
generally late at this elevation; and grasses, which, though rare in
the damp forest regions, are so common on these slopes that I here
gathered twenty-six kinds. I spent a day here in order to collect
seeds of the superb rhododendrons* [These Rhododendrons are now all
flourishing at Kew and elsewhere: they are _R. Dalhousiae, arboreum,
Maddeni, Edgeworthii, Aucklandii_ and _virgatum._] which I had
discovered in May, growing on the hills behind. The ascent was now
difficult, from the length of the wiry grass, which rendered the
slopes so slippery that it was impossible to ascend without holding
on by the tussocks.
A ragged Tibetan mendicant (Phud) was amusing the people: he put on a
black mask with cowrie shells for eyes, and danced uncouth figures
with a kind of heel and toe shuffle, in excellent time, to rude
Tibetan songs of his own: for this he received ample alms, which a
little boy collected in a wallet. These vagrants live well upon
charity; they bless, curse, and transact little affairs of all kinds
up and down the valleys of Sikkim and Tibet; this one dealt in red
clay teapots, sheep and puppies.
We found Meepo at Choongtam: I had given him leave (when here last)
to go back to the Rajah, and to visit his wife; and he had returned
with instructions to conduct me to the Chola and Yakla passes, in
Eastern Sikkim. These passes, like that of Tunkra (chapter xxii),
lead over the Chola range to that part of Tibet which is interposed
between Sikkim and Bhotan. My road lay past the Rajah's residence,
which we considered very fortunate, as apparently affording Campbell
an opportunity of a conference with his highness, for which both he
and the Tchebu Lama were most anxious.
On the way down the Lachen-Lachoong, we found the valley still
flooded (as described at chapters xviii and xxx), and the alders
standing with their trunks twelve feet under water; but the shingle
dam was now dry and hard: it would probably soften, and be carried
away by the first rains of the following year. I left here the
temperate flora of northern Sikkim, tropical forms commencing to
appear: of these the nettle tribe were most numerous in the woods.
A large grape, with beautiful clusters of round purple berries, was
very fair eating; it is not the common vine of Europe, which
nevertheless is probably an Himalayan plant, the _Vitis Indica._*
[The origin of the common grape being unknown, it becomes a curious
question to decide whether the Himalayan _Vitis Indica_ is the wild
state of that plant: an hypothesis strengthened by the fact of
Bacchus, etc., having come from the East.]
Illustration--TIETAN PHUD.
At Chakoong the temperature of the river, which in May was 54
degrees, was now 51.5 degrees at 3 p.m. We did not halt here, but
proceeded to Namgah, a very long and fatiguing march. Thence a short
march took us to Singtam, which we reached on the 30th of October.
The road by which I had come up was for half the distance obliterated
in most parts by landslips,* [I took a number of dips and strikes of
the micaceous rocks: the strike of these was as often north-east as
north-west; it was ever varying, and the strata were so disturbed, as
materially to increase the number and vast dimensions of the
landslips.] but they were hard and dry, and the leeches were gone.
Bad weather, and Campbell's correspondence with the Durbar, who
prevented all communication with the Rajah, detained us here two
days, after which we crossed to the Teesta valley, and continued
along its east bank to Tucheam, 2000 feet above the river.
We obtained a magnificent view of the east face of Kinchinjunga, its
tops bearing respectively N. 62 degrees W., and N. 63 degrees W.: the
south slope of the snowed portion in profile was 34 degrees, and of
the north 40 degrees; but both appeared much steeper to the eye, when
unaided by an instrument.
The great shrubby nettle (_Urtica crenulata_) is common here: this
plant, called "Mealum-ma," attains fifteen feet in height; it has
broad glossy leaves, and though apparently without stings, is held in
so great dread,* [The stinging hairs are microscopic, and confined to
the young shoots, leaf and flower-stalks. Leschenault de la Tour
describes being stung by this nettle on three fingers of his hand
only at the Calcutta Botanical Gardens, and the subsequent sneezing
and running at the nose, followed by tetanic symptoms and two days'
suffering, nor did the effects disappear for nine days. It is a
remarkable fact that the plant stings violently only at this season.
I frequently gathered it with impunity on subsequent occasions, and
suspected some inaccuracy in my observations; but in Silhet both Dr.
Thomson and I experienced the same effects in autumn. Endlicher
("Lindley's Vegetable Kingdom") attributes the causticity of
nettle-juice to bicarbonate of ammonia, which Dr. Thomson and I
ascertained was certainly not present in this species.] that I had
difficulty in getting help to cut it down. I gathered many specimens
without allowing any part to touch my skin; still the scentless
effluvium was so powerful, that mucous matter poured from my eyes and
nose all the rest of the afternoon, in such abundance, that I had to
hold my head over a basin for an hour. The sting is very virulent,
producing inflammation; and to punish a child with "Mealum-ma" is the
severest Lepcha threat. Violent fevers and death have been said to
ensue from its sting; but this I very much doubt.
Illustration--TIBETAN IMPLEMENTS.
Tea-pot, cup, and brick of tea; knife, tobacco-pipe (across
chop-sticks, pouch, and flint-and-steel.
CHAPTER XXV.
Journey to the Rajah's residence at Tumloong -- Ryott valley --
Rajah's house -- Tupgain Lama -- Lagong nunnery -- Phadong Goompa --
Phenzong ditto -- Lepcha Sepoys -- Proceedings at Tumloong -- Refused
admittance to Rajah -- Women's dresses -- Meepo's and Tchebu Lama's
families -- Chapel -- Leave for Chola pass -- Ryott river -- Rungpo,
view from -- Deputation of Kajees, etc. -- Conference -- Laghep --
Eatable fruit of _Decaisnia_ -- _Cathcartia_ -- Rhododendrons --
Phieung-goong -- Pines -- Rutto river -- Barfonchen -- Curling of
rhododendron leaf -- Woodcock -- Chola pass -- -- Small lakes --
Tibet guard and sepoys -- Dingpun -- Arrival of Sikkim sepoys --
Their conduct -- Meet Singtam Soubah -- Chumanako -- We are seized by
the Soubah's party -- Soubah's conduct -- Dingpun Tinli -- Treatment
of Dr. Campbell -- Bound and guarded -- Separated from Campbell --
Marched to Tumloong -- Motives for such conduct -- Arrive at Rungpo
-- At Phadong -- Presents from Rajah -- Visits of Lama -- Of Singtam
Soubah -- I am cross-questioned by Amlah -- Confined with Campbell --
Seizure of my Coolies -- Threats of attacking Dorjiling.
We started on the 3rd of November for Tumloong (or Sikkim Durbar),
Dr. Campbell sending Tchebu Lama forward with letters to announce his
approach. A steep ascent, through large trees of _Rhododendron
arboreum,_ led over a sharp spur of mica-schist (strike north-west
and dip north-east), beyond which the whole bay-like valley of the
Ryott opened before us, presenting one of the most lovely and fertile
landscapes in Sikkim. It is ten miles long, and three or four broad,
flanked by lofty mountains, and its head girt by the beautiful snowy
range of Chola, from which silvery rills descend through black
pine-woods, dividing innumerable converging cultivated spurs, and
uniting about 2000 feet below us, in a profound gorge. Everywhere
were scattered houses, purple crops of buckwheat, green fields of
young wheat, yellow millet, broad green plantains, and orange groves.
We crossed spur after spur, often under or over precipices about
fifteen hundred feet above the river, proceeding eastwards to the
village of Rangang, whence we caught sight of the Rajah's house.
It was an irregular low stone building of Tibetan architecture, with
slanting walls and small windows high up under the broad thatched
roof, above which, in the middle, was a Chinese-looking square
copper-gilt canopy, with projecting eaves and bells at the corners,
surmounted by a ball and square spire. On either gable of the roof
was a round-topped cylinder of gilded copper, something like a closed
umbrella; this is a very frequent and characteristic Boodhist
ornament, and is represented in Turner's plate of the mausoleum of
Teshoo Lama ("Tibet" plate xi.); indeed the Rajah's canopy at
Tumloong is probably a copy of the upper part of the building there
represented, having been built by architects from Teshoo Loombo.
It was surrounded by chaits, mendongs, poles with banners, and other
religious erections; and though beautifully situated on a flat
terrace overlooking the valley, we were much disappointed with its
size and appearance.
On the brow of the hill behind was the large red goompa of the
Tupgain Lama, the late heir-apparent to the temporal and spiritual
authority in Sikkim; and near it a nunnery called Lagong, the lady
abbess of which is a daughter of the Rajah, who, with the assistance
of sisters, keeps an enormous Mani, or praying-cylinder, revolving
perpetually to the prayer of "Om Mani Padmi hom." On this side was a
similar spur, on which the gilded pinnacles and copper canopy of the
Phadong* [Phadong means Royal, and this temple answers to a chapel
royal for the Rajah.] goompa gleamed through the trees. At a
considerable distance across the head of the valley was still a third
goompa, that of Phenzong.
We were met by a large party of armed Lepchas, dressed in blue and
white striped kirtles, broad loose scarlet jackets; and the little
bamboo wattle hat lined with talc, and surmounted by a peacock's
feather; they escorted us to the village, and then retired.
We encamped a few hundred feet below the Rajah's house, and close by
those of Meepo and the Tchebu Lama's family, who are among the oldest
and most respectable of Tibetan origin in Sikkim. The population on
this, the north side of the Ryott, consists principally of Sikkim
Bhoteeas and Tibetans, while the opposite is peopled by Lepchas.
Crowds came to see us, and many brought presents, with which we were
overwhelmed; but we could not help remarking that our cordial
greetings were wholly from the older families attached to the Rajah,
and from the Lamas; none proceeded from the Dewan's relatives or
friends, nor therefore any in the name of the Rajah himself, or of
the Sikkim government.
Tchebu Lama vainly used every endeavour to procure for us an audience
with his highness; who was surrounded by his councillors, or Amlah,
all of whom were adherents of the Dewan, who was in Tibet. My man
Meepo, and the Tchebu Lama; who were ordered to continue in official
attendance upon us, shrugged their shoulders, but could suggest no
remedy. On the following morning Campbell was visited by many
parties, amongst whom were the Lama's family, and that of the late
Dewan (Ilam Sing), who implored us to send again to announce our
presence, and not to dismiss at once the moonshie and his office,*
[It is usual in India for Government officers when about to transact
business, to travel with a staff (called office) of native
interpreters, clerks, etc., of whom the chief is commonly called
moonchie.] who had accompanied us for the purpose of a conference
with the Rajah. Their wishes were complied with, and we waited till
noon before proceeding.
Illustration--TCHEBU LAMA.
A gay and animated scene was produced by the concourse of women,
dressed in their pretty striped and crossed cloaks, who brought
tokens of good-will. Amongst them Meepo's wife appeared conspicuous
from the large necklaces* [The lumps of amber forming these (called
"Poshea") were larger than the fist: they are procured in East Tibet,
probably from Birmah.] and amulets, corals, and silver filagree work,
with which her neck and shoulders were loaded: she wore on her head a
red tiara ("Patuk") bedizened with seed pearls and large turquoises,
and a gold fillet of filagree bosses united by a web of slender
chains; her long tails were elaborately plaited, and woven with
beads, and her cloak hooked in front by a chain of broad silver links
studded with turquoises. White silk scarfs, the emblem of peace and
friendship, were thrown over our hands by each party; and rice, eggs,
fowls, kids, goats, and Murwa beer, poured in apace, to the great
delight of our servants.
We returned two visits of ceremony, one to Meepo's house, a poor
cottage, to which we carried presents of chintz dresses for his two
little girls, who were busy teazing their hair with cylindrical
combs, formed of a single slender joint of bamboo slit all round
half-way up into innumerable teeth. Our other visit was paid to the
Lama's family, who inhabited a large house not far from the Rajah's.
The lower story was an area enclosed by stone walls, into which the
cattle, etc., were driven. An outside stone stair led to the upper
story, where we were received by the head of the family, accompanied
by a great concourse of Lamas. He conducted us to a beautiful little
oratory at one end of the building, fitted up like a square temple,
and lighted with latticed windows, covered with brilliant and
tasteful paintings by Lhassan artists. The beams of the ceiling were
supported by octagonal columns painted red, with broad capitals.
Everywhere the lotus, the mani, and the chirki (or wheel with three
rays, emblematic of the Boodhist Trinity), were introduced; "Om Mani
Padmi hom" in gilt letters, adorned the projecting end of every
beam;* [A mythical animal with a dog's head and blood-red spot over
the forehead was not uncommon in this chapel, and is also seen in the
Sikkim temples and throughout Tibet. Ermann, in his Siberian Travels,
mentions it as occurring in the Khampa Lama's temple at Maimao chin;
he conjectures it to have been the Cyclops of the Greeks, which
according to the Homeric myth had a mark on the forehead, instead of
an eye. The glory surrounding the heads of Tibetan deities is also
alluded to by Ermann, who recognises in it the Nimbus of the
ancients, used to protect the heads of statues from the weather, and
from being soiled by birds; and adds that the glory of the ancient
masters in painting was no doubt introduced into the Byzantine school
from the Boodhists.] and the Chinese "cloud messenger," or winged
dragon, floated in azure and gold along the capitals and beams,
amongst scrolls and groups of flowers. At one end was a sitting
figure of Gorucknath in Lama robes, surrounded by a glory, with mitre
and beads; the right hand holding the Dorje, and the forefinger
raised in prayer. Around was a good library of books. More presents
were brought here, and tea served.
Illustration--CLASP OF A WOMAN'S CLOAK.
The route to Chola pass, which crosses the range of that name south
of the Chola peak (17,320 feet) at the head of this valley, is across
the Ryott, and then eastwards along a lofty ridge. Campbell started
at noon, and I waited behind with Meepo, who wished me to see the
Rajah's dwelling, to which we therefore ascended; but, to my guide's
chagrin, we were met and turned back by a scribe, or clerk, of the
Amlah. We were followed by a messenger, apologising and begging me to
return; but I had already descended 1000 feet, and felt no
inclination to reascend the hill, especially as there did not appear
to be anything worth seeing. Soon after I had overtaken Campbell, he
was accosted by an excessively dirty fellow, who desired him to
return for a conference with the Amlah; this was of course declined,
but, at the same time, Campbell expressed his readiness to receive
the Amlah at our halting place.
The Ryott flows in a very tropical gorge 2000 feet above the sea;
from the proximity of the snowy mountains, its temperature was only
64.3 degrees. Thence the ascent is very steep to Rungpo, where we
took up our quarters at a rest house at an height of 6008 feet.
This road is well kept, and hence onwards is traversed yearly by the
Rajah on his way to his summer residence of Choombi, two marches
beyond the Cbola pass; whither he is taken to avoid the Sikkim rains,
which are peculiarly disagreeable to Tibetans. Rungpo commands a most
beautiful view northwards, across the valley, of the royal residence,
temples, goompas, hamlets, and cultivation, scattered over spurs that
emerge from the forest, studded below with tree-ferns and plantains,
and backed by black pine-woods and snowy mountains. In the evening
the Amlah arrived to confer with Campbell; at first there was a
proposal of turning us out of the house, in which there was plenty of
room besides, but as we declined to move, except by his Highness's
order, they put up in houses close by.
On the following morning they met us as we were departing for Chola
pass, bringing large presents in the name of the Rajah, and excuses
on their and his part for having paid us no respect at Tumloong,
saying, that it was not the custom to receive strangers till after
they had rested a day, that they were busy preparing a suitable
reception, etc.; this was all false, and contrary to etiquette, but
there was no use in telling them so. Campbell spoke firmly and kindly
to them, and pointed out their incivility and the unfriendly tone of
their whole conduct. They then desired Campbell to wait and discuss
business affairs with them; this was out of the question, and he
assured them that he was ever ready to do so with the Rajah, that he
was now (as he had informed his Highness) on his way with me to the
Chola and Yakla passes, and that we had, for want of coolies, left
some loads behind us, which, if they were really friendly, they would
forward. This they did, and so we parted; they (contrary to
expectation) making no objection to Campbell's proceeding with me.
A long march up a very steep, narrow ridge took us by a good road to
Laghep, a stone resting-house (alt. 10,475 feet) on a very narrow
flat. I had abundance of occupation in gathering rhododendron-seeds,
of which I procured twenty-four kinds* [These occurred in the
following order in ascending, commencing at 6000 feet.--1. _R.
Dalhousiae_; 2. _R. vaccinioides_; 3. _R. camelliaeflorwm_; 4. _R.
arboreum._ Above 8000 feet:--5. _R. argenteum_; 6. _R. Falconeri_;
7. _R. barbatum_; 8. _R. Campbelliae_; 9. _R. Edgeworthii_; 10. _R.
niveum_; 11. _R. Thomsoni_; 12. _R. cinnabarinum_; 13. _R. glaucum._
Above 10,500 feet:--14. _R. lanatum_; 15. _R. virgatum_; 16. _R.
campylocarpum_; 17. _R. ciliatum_; 18. _R. Hodgsoni_; 19. _R.
campanulatum._ Above 12,000 feet:--20. _R. lepidotum_; 21. _R.
fulgens_; 22. _R. Wightianum_; 23. _R. anthopogon_; 24. _R.
setosum._] on this and the following day.