THE CHUMBI VALLEY AND THE TIBETAN PLATEAU
The range of mountains which here forms the boundary between Sikkim and
Tibet runs nearly North and South, and the two main passes across it are
the Jelep La and the Nathu La, the latter being a few miles to the North
of the Jelep La and about the same height. The Jelep La being the main
trade route across which the telegraph line runs, and over which the
postal runners travel, is kept open all the year round, though often
after a heavy blizzard it is closed for ten days or a fortnight. On the
Sikkim side the snow-fall is always the heaviest; this range of
mountains stops most of the moist currents that drive up from the Bay of
Bengal, with the result that the rainfall in the Chumbi Valley on the
Tibetan side is only about a quarter of what it is at Gnatong on the
Sikkim side.
The descent into the Chumbi Valley was very steep and stony, as there
was a drop of over 5,000 feet from the top of the pass. The beauty of
the valley and its wild flowers made up, however, for the badness of the
path. The rhododendrons on the descent were extremely fine, and the
whole character of the vegetation was altered and became more European.
The great pink rhododendron _Aucklandi_ showed up splendidly in the dark
forests of silver fir (_A. Webbiana_) which here grows into a fine tree.
There was also the yellow rhododendron Campylocarpum and a white
rhododendron, probably Decorum; the beautiful _R. Cinnabarinum_ with its
orange bells of waxy flowers relieved the darkness of the firs. There
was a small Tibetan rest-house called Langra where our coolies wanted to
stop, but we pushed on past this and descended steeply through more
wonderful forests. As we got lower we found birch, sycamore, willow and
elder still clothed in the light green of early spring. A fine white
clematis, a pink and white spiraea, a yellow berberis, white roses and
the dark purple iris grew in profusion on either side of the path.
Underneath these were the small flowers of the wild strawberry, which
the Macdonald family collected later on in the year and made into jam in
great quantities.
Near the entrance to this side valley we came to Old Yatung with its
Chinese custom-house and wall built right across the valley to keep the
British from going any further. All this was now deserted and in ruins.
Soon afterwards we arrived in the main Chumbi Valley where were broad
fields filled with potatoes and ripening barley. The houses here were
mostly built of stone and wood and in two stories. In character they
much resembled Tirolese houses except for the elaborate carving over the
doors and windows and the many colours in which they were painted. We
passed through the prosperous villages of Richengong, Phema and Chumbi
before arriving at New Yatung, or Shassi as the Tibetans still prefer to
call it. Here was a comfortable bungalow overlooking the bazaar on the
other side of the river. Knowing that we had had a long and tiring march
and that our coolies would only arrive late that night, Mrs. Macdonald
had with much thoughtfulness sent over her servants who had tea and
dinner prepared for us on a generous scale. No attention could have been
more acceptable. It rained steadily all that night--a somewhat unusual
occurrence in this valley--but the next morning it cleared up and the
day was delightful.
The Chumbi Valley is one of the richest valleys in Tibet. Yatung lies at
a height of 9,400 feet. Apples and pears do well here, and barley, wheat
and potatoes are grown in great quantities. At this time of the year the
air is scented by the wild roses which grow in large bushes covered with
hundreds of cream-coloured and sweetly scented flowers. The villages
all look extremely prosperous and an air of peace and contentment seems
to pervade the valley. We had to hire a new lot of animals to take us on
to Phari--28 miles further up the Chumbi Valley. These all arrived in
good time, and by eight o'clock on May 27 our loads were all on their
way. Before leaving, I sent off a telegram to Sir Francis Younghusband
to announce the arrival of the Expedition in Tibet, a telegram which
arrived opportunely at the Anniversary Dinner of the Royal Geographical
Society, just at the commencement of dinner.
There is a small garrison at Yatung, consisting of twenty-five men of
the 73rd Carnatics. There was also a hospital and a supply depot from
which we were able to purchase sugar, flour, ata (coarse native flour)
and potatoes, while later on we were able to send back to it for further
supplies. We formed quite an imposing procession as we started off:
Wollaston and myself on our ponies, Gyalzen Kazi and Chheten Wangdi, our
interpreters, on their ponies which they had brought along with them.
There was Mr. Isaacs, the head clerk, with a red-coated chaprassi and a
syce also mounted, who accompanied us on a visit to two monasteries
further up the valley. The path followed close to the banks of the
Ammo-chu, which was now a clear stream and contained many a likely pool
for fish. The valley was full of delightful flowers; curious ground
orchids, with several beautiful varieties of the ladies' slipper grew
there; the wild roses, especially the large red one, were very
sweet-scented and filled the air with fragrance. Berberis, clematis and
some charming dwarf rhododendrons abounded. After going about 3 miles
the valley narrowed, and we passed the spot where the Chinese had built
another wall across the valley to keep us out. Just above this wall
there was a deserted Chinese village, for now all the Chinese have been
driven out of the country and are not allowed to go back and live there.
High above us on the hillside was the Punagang Monastery belonging to
the old sect of the Bhompo's, who turn their prayer wheels the opposite
to every one else and always keep to the right of Chortens and Mani
walls. This monastery was too far off the path for us to visit it. We
soon afterwards passed the large and flourishing village of Galinka
surrounded by fields of barley. Here we turned aside to visit the
Galinka Monastery, which stood in the midst of the village. This was
quite a new building, with a great gilt image of Buddha inside it. The
monks were still busy painting pictures of scenes from the life of
Buddha on the walls. They apparently did quite a good trade in selling
clay images of Buddha in his different forms and postures. These were
stamped by a very well cut brass die, which the monks told me had been
made at Shigatse. In a side room was a huge prayer wheel some 12 feet
high and 5 feet to 6 feet in diameter. It was covered over with painted
leather inscribed with the usual Om Mani Padme Hum (Hail, jewel of the
lotus flower). They told us the inside was also filled with prayers, and
that it contained one and a half million of these, so that each time the
wheel was turned a million and a half prayers were said for the person
who turned it. After each complete revolution it rings a bell. We were
allowed to turn it several times, so that I hope the many million
prayers sent up may benefit us. After leaving the monastery, the path
rose steeply and the river came down in a series of waterfalls. Above us
were masses of pink and mauve rhododendrons, flowering cherries,
viburnum, berberis, roses and other delightful shrubs. Soon afterwards,
at the entrance to the Lingmatang plain, we crossed the river and rode
up a rocky spur formed of great boulders that had some time or another
fallen down and blocked up the valley, forming a lake some 2 miles long,
but this lake no longer existed, and there was only a flat grassy plain
grazed over by yaks and ponies. On the top of the spur was the Donka
Monastery in a grand situation, commanding beautiful views up and down
the valley. I had hoped to see my friend the Geshe Lama or Geshe
Rimpoche, as he is sometimes known, with whom I had lunched last year at
the hot springs at Kambu, but unfortunately he was away at Lhasa. He is
a man of very great learning and held in high veneration throughout
these valleys.
On entering the big stone courtyard of the monastery a crowd of children
and Lamas at once flocked round us. We were shown over the main temple,
but it was badly lit with a few butter lamps and we could see little of
its contents; amongst these were several statues of Buddha under his
different forms. There were also kept there 108 volumes of the Tangyur,
one of the Buddhist sacred writings. These books were very curious. Each
volume consisted of a number of loose oblong parchment sheets 2 to 3
feet long and from 8 inches to a foot wide. These were kept together by
two elaborately carved boards between which they were pressed. The
writing was all done by hand by the Lamas, who copied out and
illuminated books with the greatest care and skill in the same manner
that the monks in the Middle Ages illuminated their missals. The
book-shelves of the library consisted of a number of pigeon-holes in the
walls in which these volumes were kept. Here, too, they were busy making
clay images to bury under the Chorten that they were building above the
monastery. Next door was another and newer temple, built to house the
Oracle, and called the Sanctuary of the Oracle. He, too, was
unfortunately away, as he was taking the hot waters at Kambu, but we
were shown his throne and the robes that he puts on when he prophesies.
There was a curiously shaped head-dress of silver, adorned all round
with silver skulls, and a very quaintly shaped bow and arrow which the
Oracle held in one hand while a huge trident was grasped in the other. I
am told that he is consulted far and wide and has a great reputation for
truth. We were then taken upstairs to a sunny verandah, just outside the
Geshe Rimpoche's private room and commanding fine views up and down the
valley. Here we were given Tibetan tea, made with salt and butter, and
served up in agate cups with beautifully chased silver covers. After
drinking this tea we were shown over the Geshe's private apartments and
chapel, the prevailing colour scheme of the room being yellow. The
little shrines with their silver bowls in front--the incense burner and
the flame that is never allowed to go out--were all very interesting to
us. We then took a photograph of the Lamas in front of their temple,
after which the head Lama accompanied us some way down the path to say
good-bye, hoping we would come and see them again on our return.
I have alluded several times to the hot springs at Kambu. These springs
are two days' journey from Yatung up the Kambu Valley, but can also be
reached quite easily from Phari. There is a curious account of these
springs written by an old Lama and translated by Major Campbell. The
writer describes the Upper Kambu Valley as quite a pleasant spot where
cooling streams and medicinal plants are found in abundance. Medicinal
waters of five kinds flow from the rocks, forming twelve pools, the
waters of which are efficacious in curing the 440 diseases to which the
human race is subject. The springs are then made to describe their own
qualities in the first person:--
1. THE LHAMO SPRING (The Spring of the Goddess): My virtue is derived
from the essence of stone--I am guarded by the Goddess Tsering, and my
virtue therefore consists in purging the sins and obscurities of the
human body. Those who bathe first in my waters will be purged of all
sin and the power of all diseases will be abated.
2. THE CHAGU SPRING (The Spring of the Vulture): My virtue is derived
from black sulphur. As regards my properties, a vulture with a broken
wing once fell into my waters and was healed. I benefit diseases of
women, also sores, gout and fractures. I possess particular virtue for
all diseases below the waist. I do not benefit neuralgia, nervous
diseases, or loss of appetite.
3 and 4. THE PON SPRINGS (The Springs of the Official): We two
brothers derive our properties from both yellow and black sulphur.
One of us provokes catarrh, while the other allays it. A learned man,
who wished us well, once said that we were beneficial in cases of
hemorrhoids, kidney diseases and rheumatism. We are not aware of
possessing these qualities, and rather tend to cause harm in such
cases.
5. THE TRAGGYE SPRING (The Spring born of the Rock): My virtue is
derived from a combination of sulphur and the essence of stone. I was
formerly efficacious in cases of diseases of the arteries and nerve
trouble, but later on the Brothers of the Pon Spring rushed down on
poor me like tyrants so that no one now regards me. The caretaker of
the Springs and visitors treats me like a beggar and pays no attention
to me. Even now if some person with the permission of the Brothers of
the Pon Spring would carry out some repairs, so as to separate my
waters from theirs, I would guarantee to benefit those suffering from
arterial diseases, nerve trouble, impurities of the blood and bile.
6. THE SERKA SPRING (The Spring of the Crevice): My virtues are
derived from sulphur and carbon. I am not beneficial to those
suffering from ailments arising from nerve trouble, bile and acidity.
I am beneficial to those suffering from chapped hands and feet due to
hard work among earth and stones and also in cases of diseases of the
kidneys and bladder. I am somewhat hurtful to those suffering from
headache arising from nervous catarrh, or impurities of the blood.
7. THE TANG SPRING (The Spring of the Plain): My virtues are derived
from carbon and a little sulphur. I am beneficial in cases of
hemorrhoids, kidney disease, rheumatism and other diseases below the
waist, also in cases of venereal disease. There is a danger of the
waist becoming bent like a bow through too much bathing in my waters.
8. THE TRAGGYAB SPRING (The Spring behind the Rock): I am beneficial
in cases of disease of the arteries and anaemia--I am not aware that
I am harmful in other cases.
9. THE TONGBU SPRING (The Spring of the Hole): My virtues are derived
from a large proportion of crystalline stone and a little sulphur. I
guarantee to be beneficial in cases of white phlegm, brown phlegm and
other forms of phlegmatic disease. Also in diseases arising out of
these, and in cases of impurities of the blood and colic pains. Please
bear this in mind.
10. THE NUB (The Western Spring): My virtues are derived from a little
carbon. I am beneficial in cases of liver disease, impurities of the
blood, flatulence, kidney disease, dyspepsia, brown phlegm, tumours,
gout, rheumatism, gleet, and complications arising from these. I do not
boast in the way that the other Springs do.
11. THE DZEPO SPRING (The Leper's Spring): I am cousin to the Western
Spring. He guarantees to cure diseases arising from two or three causes,
also kidney disease, flat foot, rheumatism and gout. I am beneficial in
cases of hemorrhoids, gout, rheumatism and diseases of the feet. I
possess particular virtue in cases of leprosy, sores and wounds.
12. THE LAMA SPRING (The Spring of the Lama): My virtues are derived
from a large proportion of lime and a little sulphur. I am beneficial
in cases of lung disease, tumours, dyspepsia, both chronic and recent,
poverty of the blood and venereal diseases.
WRITTEN BY TSEWANG IN THE HOPE THAT THE PEOPLE OF BHUTAN, SIKKIM AND
THE SURROUNDING COUNTRY WILL BEAR THIS IN MIND.
COPIED BY TENRAB, CLEARLY AND EXACTLY, FROM THE ORIGINAL IN THE MALE
IRON DOG YEAR IN THE FIRST HALF OF THE EARTH MONTH.
After leaving the monastery we had a pleasant gallop across the
Lingmatang Plain, after which the valley narrowed again and the path
followed close beside the rushing stream. It was a delightful ride
through forests of birch, larch, juniper, spruce, silver fir and
mountain ash. Never anywhere have I seen birch trees grow to such a
size. They were grand rugged old trees that matched the rugged scenery
of the gorge. Blue poppies, fritillaries, ground orchids and
sweet-scented primulas grew along the path, and mixed up everywhere in
the forest were great bushes of _R. Cinnabarinum_, which varied in shade
from yellow and orange to deep red. Wagtails and white-crested redstarts
dodged about from rock to rock in the rushing stream, and the clear note
of the shrike could usually be heard above the noise of the waters. The
weather had luckily kept fine all day, so that we were able to dawdle
along and enjoy the scenery and flowers.
After going about 12 miles we came to the bungalow of Gautsa, situated
at a height of about 12,000 feet, and at the bottom of the gorge; here
we spent the night. During the night there was heavy rain, and when we
woke in the morning, fresh snow was low down on all the hills and within
1,500 feet of the bungalow. However, the day again proved brilliantly
fine. For breakfast we had been given some large wild-goose eggs
belonging to the bar-headed goose. Mine I had boiled, and found
excellent, though one was sufficient for a meal. Two that the others had
were rather _passe_, and were not equally appreciated. The day's path
was at first very stony and climbed steadily uphill beside the torrent
of the Ammo-chu. Pale blue iris, yellow primulas, a pink viburnum and a
large yellow-belled lonicera grew beside the path, but the rhododendrons
were still by far the most wonderful of the flowering shrubs. We passed
many big blue meconopsis, and some of these flowers measured fully 3
inches across. Dwarf rhododendrons, only a foot high--some pure white
and others pink, continued up until about 13,500 feet, and then the
hillsides became purple from another little rhododendron, which looked
in the distance like heather and gave the rounded hills quite a Scotch
appearance. As we rose higher the flowers decreased in number. Larks and
wheatears ran along the ground in front of us, and small tailless marmot
rats dodged in and out of their holes as we approached. The distance
from Goutsa to Phari was about 16 miles, of which the last 8 miles were
over flat country with a springy turf, on which it was a pleasure to be
able to canter again after having passed over so many miles of stony
roads. Chomolhari, the Mountain of the Goddess, stood up as a wonderful
sight with its sharp peak outlined against the clear blue sky. On its
summit the wind was evidently very strong, as we could see the fresh
snow being whirled off in clouds.
Phari is an extremely dirty village dominated by a stone fort and lying
under the shadow of the great mountain Chomolhari, 23,930 feet high. It
is 14,300 feet above sea level, and the climate there is always cold, as
it is never without a strong wind. In the afternoon the Jongpen, or
Governor of the district, came to call on me. He was a young man with an
intelligent and pleasant face, and came from the country between Khamba
Dzong and Shekar Dzong, so that he was able to give us much useful
information about the road; he promised that he would write to his
brother, who was acting as agent for him at his home, telling him to
entertain us and give us all facilities in the matters of transport and
supplies. He told us that he had received written instructions from the
Lhasa Government to arrange for supplies and transport for us, and he
promised that he would do his best. I gave him photographs that I had
taken last year of his fort, and also of Chomolhari; these pleased him
very much, and in return he presented us with a dried sheep which looked
mummified and smelt very strongly, but which proved very acceptable to
our coolies. It was necessary to stop here for several days as the
second party had to catch up, and they too needed a day's rest. Also the
transport that was to carry us along to Khamba Dzong would not be ready
for several days, so the following morning I went to call on the
Jongpen in his fort, where I found him living in some very dark rooms. I
presented him with one of the new lever electric torches, which he much
appreciated, though at first he and his servants were rather frightened
by it. He gave us tea and sweetmeats, and soon afterwards the head-men
of all the villages came in, and were given orders about our transport.
Their quaint attitudes of respect and their darkly bronzed faces, that
just showed up in the light, reminded me forcibly of an old Dutch
picture. Some men, too, had been sent from Khamba Dzong for orders and
to know when we should be likely to arrive there. In the course of the
afternoon Dr. Heron and I rode over to a monastery about 3 miles away
where I had been last year, and where I had taken some photographs. Some
prints of these I brought back to the monastery, and the monks were very
pleased with them. They were in the middle of a service when we arrived,
as it was some kind of festival, and the dark temple was illuminated by
hundreds of little butter lamps. The monks were all chanting their
scriptures, and this they continued to do all the afternoon.
On returning to Phari, we found that a message had come from the Jongpen
to ask us to dine with him the following evening. The change in the
climate and the bad cooking had affected the stomachs of all the members
of the Expedition, and none of us was feeling very well. Dr. Kellas was
the worst, and as soon as he arrived at Phari he retired to bed. The
following morning was misty and the ground was all white with
hoar-frost, though it was the last day in May; but as I was anxious to
get some photographs of Chomolhari we rode, with the Chaukidar as a
guide, through the mist across the plain to some hills just to the South
of the great mountain; after a few miles we found ourselves above the
clouds with the sun shining in a brilliant blue sky. The whole of the
Phari Plain was covered by a sea of clouds. On the far side rose the
Pawhunri group of mountains, while further to the South, Kanchenjunga
towered above all the other peaks, such as Siniolchum, Kabru and
Jonsong, all of which stood out very clearly in this brilliant
atmosphere. I rode up a delightful little mountain valley full of dwarf
rhododendrons and Alpine primulas until I reached a height of 16,000
feet. We then left the ponies and climbed on to the top of the hill,
which was about 17,500 feet; from this point we had glorious views of
Chomolhari immediately across the valley, while on the other side we
looked over to the snowy peaks and ranges in Bhutan far to the South of
us. We found the wind very keen at this height, and after taking several
photographs we rode back again to Phari.
[Illustration: CHOMOLHARI FROM THE SOUTH.]
Here I found the place full of troubles. Our Coolie Sirdar was, as we
were beginning to find out, not only useless, but very mischievous, and
he was evidently at the bottom of an attempted mutiny among our coolies,
who refused to go on. The Sirdar strongly objected to our interpreters,
who were preventing him from fleecing us in the matter of stores and
supplies. However, after much talking they were all satisfied. Then it
was the turn of the cooks, all of whom the Sirdar had chosen. I should
not have minded one or two of these going, as they were very bad cooks
and usually drunk, and the fact that all of us had been ill was solely
due to their bad cooking; but I could not let them all go, so it was
necessary to find out which were the most useless, and this we were able
to do in the course of the next few days. Dr. Kellas was getting no
better; he refused to take any food, and was very depressed about
himself. At Phari I was able to change a certain number of our rupees
into Tibetan currency. The then rate of exchange was 33 rupees to 1
sersang--a gold coin--and 41/2 silver trangkas to 1 rupee. The trangkas
were a thin and very badly stamped coin about the size of a two-shilling
piece. We found them, however, to be the most useful form of currency as
the gold coin, though much easier to carry, could only be exchanged at a
few places, and it was seldom that we met people who were rich enough to
be able to change them.
That night four of us went over to have dinner with the Jongpen. First
we were given tea and sweetmeats, followed by strong ginger wine, which
was most comforting to our stomachs in their delicate condition. Then
came dishes of mutton in varying forms with vegetables and macaroni.
They were all served up in Chinese fashion in little dishes and some
were quite appetising. We were very late in starting the next morning as
all the loads had to be sorted and laid out for the very miscellaneous
transport that had been given us. This consisted of ponies, mules,
donkeys, bullocks and yaks. For riding-animals we were given mules,
which trotted well and covered the ground quite quickly, though some of
the Alpine climbers found them hard to manage and were apt to part
company with their steeds. Our transport was by now becoming rather
complicated as forty-four animals were going right through to Khamba
Dzong and forty-four were being changed at every stage. Dr. Kellas was
not well enough to ride and was carried in an arm-chair all day. Soon
after starting I passed two of our cooks on the road hopelessly drunk,
and left them there. Our way led over the Tang La, a very gentle and
scarcely perceptible pass, 15,200 feet, but important as being the main
Himalayan watershed. All day there was a very strong South wind blowing,
but it was luckily at our backs, and we did not feel it too much. We
then quickly trotted the 10 miles across the absolutely level
Tang-puen-sum Plain. Here I saw several herds of kiang, the wild ass of
Tibet, and got within 50 yards of one lot, but unfortunately the coolie
who was carrying my camera was not up with me at the time. We also
passed a certain number of Tibetan gazelle, but they were all very wary.
The Monsoon clouds came up to the South of us in great rolling billows,
but not a drop of moisture came over the Tang La. Chomolhari was a
magnificent sight all day with its 7,000 feet of precipices descending
sheer into the plain. Tuna (14,800 feet), about 20 miles from Phari, was
our first halt. We were still on the main road to Lhasa and found a
comfortable rest-house into which the eight of us all managed to stow
ourselves. Dr. Kellas, though rather better the next day, was still too
weak to ride, and was carried for the next march on a litter. We were
now in the true Tibetan climate, with brilliant sunshine, blue skies,
still mornings and strong winds all the afternoon.
The next march from Tuna to Dochen was still on the Lhasa Road. I did
not follow the path, but rode with a local man from the village over the
great Tang-puen-sum Plain in search of goa--Tibetan gazelle. We saw many
of them on the plains, but they were the wiliest and most difficult
animals to approach, and in this flat and bare country it was not
possible ever to get within 300 yards of them. As a rule they ran off
when we were still half a mile away. They are restless little creatures,
always on the move, and never at any time an easy mark to hit. I
thoroughly enjoyed this ride over the plains and our glorious views of
Chomolhari and the great snow-covered and glaciated chain to the North
of it along the foot of which we were travelling. A curious pink
trumpet-shaped flower grew in great quantities on the plain; the leaves
were buried under the sand and only the flower showed its head above the
ground. There were also white pincushions of a kind of tiny saxifrage.
This plain, over which we were riding, was evidently once upon a time a
lake bed, as the pebbles were rounded and there were distinct evidences
of former shores along the sides of the hills. Many kiang were grazing
on it and many thousands of sheep were being pastured there. As we
approached the lake called Bamtso, the country became very marshy, and
our ponies got bogged several times. The bungalow at Dochen was situated
near the shores of the Bamtso. Never have I seen a lake with so many
colours in it. It was very shallow, and the shades varied from deep blue
and purple to light green, while in places it was almost red from a weed
that grew in it. Behind it was a background of snow and glacier-covered
mountains, which in the still mornings was reflected faithfully in its
waters and formed a charming picture. Swimming on this lake were many
bar-headed geese and Brahminy ducks, and along the shores were many
terns and yellow wagtails.
That evening an amusing thing happened in the kitchen. One of our cooks
was heating up a tin of tinned fish and had put it in some hot water
without previously opening it. When he thought it was sufficiently hot,
he started to open it, with the result that it exploded violently,
covering him and every one else in the kitchen with small pieces of
fish. I was able then to explain to the Tibetans who were carrying our
loads that our stores were very dangerous, and that if any were at any
time stolen, they would be liable to explode and hurt them. It was, of
course, the rarefied air that had caused this, for Dochen is at a height
of 14,700 feet above sea level.
Every day on from now the wind used to blow with great violence all the
afternoon, but would die down after sunset. It must have been of a local
nature caused by the rapid changes from high temperature to low, because
the clouds above at the same time were hardly moving. I sent back Dorje,
one of our cooks, from this place, as it was the fourth time that he had
been drunk, and this I hoped would be a lesson to the others. We now
left the Lhasa Road and turned off Westwards, having henceforward to
rely on our tents.
[Illustration: LOADING UP AT DOCHEN.]
From Dochen to Khe was a short march of 11 miles over the Dug Pass,
16,400 feet. I did not follow the road taken by the transport animals,
but took a local guide and rode over the hill-tops in search of ovis
ammon. I did not see any, however, though we sighted two or three goa,
but they were very wild and would not allow me to approach within 500
yards of them. There were numbers of blue hares, however, and some ram
chakor, the Himalayan snow cock. But beyond this the hillsides were very
bare of game. There were pin-cushions of a beautiful little blue sedum
growing at a height of over 17,000 feet, also there was a big red
stonecrop. Khe is now only a small and dirty village with practically no
water except a half-dried muddy pond, but at one time it must have been
a place of some importance, as ruins and buildings of considerable size
extend over an area of more than a mile. The Kala-tso evidently at one
time came right up to this ruined town of Khetam, and the fact that it
is deserted now is probably due to the shrinkage of the lake. This was
only one of the many signs of desiccation that we saw in our travels in
Tibet. There were some curious ruins which looked like old crenellated
walls, but these walls were only places on which barley dough used to be
exposed to feed the crows as a sign of prosperity. It was a curious
custom and could only have prevailed in a very fertile valley, which
this place is no longer. The age of the city I could not find out, but
the few survivors told me that the holy shrine at Tashilumpo, which now
is at Shigatse, ought to have been built here. According to a local
legend, there was a certain stone in Khetam shaped like a ewe's-womb,
and one day a donkey driver finding that his loads were unequal in
weight, picked up this stone and put it on the light load to balance the
other, quite unaware of the importance of the stone. This stone was then
carried from Gyantse to Shigatse, where a high and important Lama saw
it, and recognising that this was a very holy stone, had it kept there.
The powerful monastery of Tashilumpo was built over this stone. We
passed two small nunneries called Doto and Shidag in snug little valleys
to the North of the plain, and on asking why there should be so many
nunneries in these parts when in the greater part of Tibet men
predominated, I was told that this was due to the fact that it was close
to the Nepalese frontier where there had always been much fighting, so
that most of the men had been killed and only women had survived. After
a short and easy march we came to a small pocket in the hills called
Kheru. Here were encamped some people belonging to a nomad tribe who
always lived in tents. They were very friendly, put tents at our
disposal, and did their best to make us comfortable. They told us that
they came here every year in the twelfth month, about January, and left
again in the fifth month of the Tibetan year (June) for a place near
Tuna, where they disposed of their wool, butter and cheese at the Phari
market. There were altogether about twenty families here owning some 200
yaks and 3,000 sheep. Dr. Kellas was slightly better, but Raeburn was
not feeling at all well, and Wheeler was suffering from indigestion, so
that we were rather a sick party. Kheru lies at a height of 15,700 feet,
but it had been very hot all day in the brilliant sunshine, and on the
way we had passed lizards and a number of common peacock butterflies.
Next morning our march was to Tatsang (Falcon's Nest), a distance of 15
or 16 miles, and over two passes 16,450 and 17,100 feet. The going was
easy all the way, as the gradients both up and down the passes were very
gentle. Between the two passes was a broad valley, filled with huge
flocks of sheep and herds of yaks, and after crossing the second pass,
we descended into a great barren and stony plain, more than 10 miles
across which was Tatsang and over which the wind blew very keenly. To
the South of us appeared the snowy crests of Pawhunri, Kanchenjhow and
Chomiomo and the Lhonak peaks. Again I did not keep with the transport,
but followed the crests of the hills, where I had lovely views; on the
way I saw plenty of gazelle, and was lucky enough to shoot one of them,
as they are very good eating. Our camp at Tatsang was pitched just below
the nunnery there, which is on the top of a rock and where there are
about thirty nuns. Our camp was on a pleasant grassy spot where some
excellent springs bubble up out of the ground. These within a few yards
formed quite a big stream full of small snow trout. They do not really
belong to the trout family, although they have somewhat similar spots,
and are very good to eat. Bullock, with his butterfly net, and the
coolies with their hands, managed to catch quite a number of fish, and
we had them for dinner that night. The ground round our tents was full
of holes out of which the marmot rats kept appearing. They were very
tame, and did not seem to be in the least afraid of us. Dr. Kellas had
had a very trying day. He had been rather better, and had started
riding a yak, but he found this too exhausting and coolies had to be
sent back from Tatsang to bring him on in a litter, so that he did not
arrive at Tatsang till late in the evening. Tatsang is 16,000 feet, so
the night was cold, the thermometer inside the tent registering 7 deg. of
frost, though it was June 4; outside there must have been quite 15 deg. as
the running streams were all frozen over, but once the sun had risen
everything warmed up and we had a beautiful warm day. Dr. Kellas started
off in his litter at 7 a.m. in quite good spirits. I did not start till
an hour later, as I had wanted to see everything off, and then went up
to visit the nunnery, over which the lady abbess showed me. There were
thirty nuns living there, all with shorn heads and wearing a curious
wool head-dress. The place where they worshipped was full of prayer
wheels, both large and small. They sat down behind these, and each nun
turned one or two of them if they could manage it. The room was very
dark, with a low ceiling, and at the end were several statues of Buddha
covered over with gauze veils. In another room there was a large prayer
wheel which they said contained half a million prayers.
After leaving the nunnery we jogged along a dry and barren valley which
gradually rose in about 12 miles to a pass 17,200 feet. On the way we
passed Dr. Kellas in his litter, who then seemed to me to be still quite
cheerful. I then rode on and at the top of the pass saw three ovis
ammon, and after a chase of about a mile I shot one, which afforded
plenty of food for the coolies for some days. It was a full grown ram
about five years old and we had great trouble in getting the carcass on
to a mule, as it was enormous and very heavy. After this I rode on down
the valley for another 10 miles to Khamba Dzong. There were actually a
few bushes in this valley, which was carpeted with the pretty pink
trumpet-shaped flower mentioned above, also with light and dark blue
iris. Suddenly the valley narrowed into a fine limestone gorge, and all
at once the fort of Khamba Dzong appeared towering above us on the
cliffs. It was really a very impressive sight and some of the
architecture of the round towers was very fine. I found that Morshead
had been waiting here for about nine days, but had employed his time in
fixing the old triangulation points. Soon after I arrived the Jongpen
came down to pay us a visit. He was quite a young fellow, only about
twenty-four, but very pleasant and polite.
While we were talking, a man came running up to us very excitedly to say
that Dr. Kellas had suddenly died on the way. We could hardly believe
this, as he was apparently gradually getting better; but Wollaston at
once rode off to see if it was true, and unfortunately found that there
was no doubt about it. It was a case of sudden failure of the heart, due
to his weak condition, while being carried over the high pass. His death
meant a very great loss to the Expedition in every way, as he alone was
qualified to carry out the experiments in oxygen and blood pressure
which would have been so valuable to the Expedition, and on which
subject he was so great an expert. His very keenness had been the cause
of his illness, for he had tried his constitution too severely in the
early months of that year by expeditions into the heart of the Himalayas
to see if he could get fresh photographs from other angles of Mount
Everest. The following day we buried him on the slopes of the hill to
the South of Khamba Dzong, in a site unsurpassed for beauty that looks
across the broad plains of Tibet to the mighty chain of the Himalayas
out of which rise up the three great peaks of Pawhunri, Kanchenjhow and
Chomiomo, which he alone had climbed. From the same spot, far away to
the West--more than a hundred miles away--could be seen the snowy crest
of Mount Everest towering far above all the other mountains. He lies,
therefore, within sight of his greatest feats in climbing and within
view of the mountain that he had longed for so many years to approach--a
fitting resting-place for a great mountaineer.
[Illustration: KHAMBA DZONG.]