FROM KHAMBA DZONG THROUGH UNKNOWN COUNTRY TO TINGRI
Our camp at Khamba Dzong[3] was pitched in a walled enclosure at the
foot of the fort, built on a great crag that rose 500 feet sheer above
us. They called this enclosure a Bagichah, or garden, because it once
boasted of three willow trees. Only one of these three is alive to-day,
the other two being merely dead stumps of wood. The Jongpen here, who
was under the direct orders of Shigatse, was very friendly, and after
our arrival presented us with five live sheep, a hundred eggs, and a
small carpet which he had had made in his own factory in the fort. Next
afternoon Morshead, Wollaston and myself went up to pay the Jongpen a
visit in his fort. It was a steep climb from our camp, past long
Mendongs or Mani walls covered with inscribed prayers. The Jongpen was
at the entrance waiting to receive us. He then showed us over his
stables, where he had several nice Tibetan ponies, which strongly
objected to Europeans and lashed out fiercely as we approached them.
After looking at them we went up many flights of most dangerously steep
stairs, almost in pitch darkness the whole time, until we came to a
small courtyard. Then after climbing up more steps, we were ushered into
a small latticed room where we were given the usual Tibetan tea and
sweetmeats. I presented the Jongpen with one of the new lever electric
torches, with which he was much pleased, saying it would be of much use
to him in going up and down his dark staircases. After tea he took us up
on to the roof of the fort, which was quite flat, and from which we had
a most magnificent view. We stood on the top of a great precipice and
looked straight down at our camp, which lay many hundred feet below but
almost within a stone's throw. From here too we could look across the
wide plains and valleys of the Yaru and its tributaries to the main
chain of the Himalayas which formed the Southern boundary to the
picture. From this side they do not appear nearly as imposing as they do
when seen from the South. Seen as they are from a height of over 15,000
feet, the distance to the sky line is not nearly so great, and as a rule
we found the Northern slopes to be much less steep than those on the
Southern side. The snow line, too, was also several thousand feet
higher. Every day great masses of moist cumulus clouds came rolling up
and round the peaks to the South of us, indicating heavy falls of rain
and snow on the South, but very little of this came over the
watershed--only an occasional slight hailstorm or a few drops of rain.
From this point we could see as far West as Mount Everest, still over a
hundred miles away. After spending some time up there and admiring and
discussing the view, we descended once more into the fort, where the
Jongpen showed us some of the carpets that his womenfolk were busy
making and promised to have some ready for us by the time that we came
back. We also much admired the curious old locks by which the doors and
boxes were fastened; before leaving, he made me a present of one of
these locks.
[3] Dzong means fort.
June 7 saw us still at Khamba Dzong, as the transport would not be ready
till the following day. Raeburn, who for some time had been suffering
from the same complaint as Dr. Kellas, was unfortunately getting no
better and was getting weaker every day. We were therefore reluctantly
compelled to send him back again into Sikkim to Lachen, where he could
be taken charge of by the lady missionaries and properly looked after.
Wollaston and Gyalzen Kazi were to accompany him down to Lachen, and if
possible to rejoin us by the time that we got to Tingri. This break-up
of our climbing party was most annoying and seriously weakened our
party, obliging us to alter our plans for reconnoitring in a thorough
manner the various approaches to Mount Everest. The following day, after
a good deal of delay and argument about the loads, we got everything
loaded up and started off for Lingga, a march of about 16 miles to the
West. For the first few miles we rode across a great plain on which were
several small herds of goa, but these were very wary and kept well out
of shot. The path then took us alongside a small isolated rocky hill in
which we kept putting up numerous hares who often got up right under our
ponies' feet. We crossed the Yaru River, now only a small stream, at the
picturesque village of Mende with its fine willow trees, and then after
passing over a spur, formed of slaty rock, we descended into another
great plain which extended all the way to Tingri. Five miles across this
plain was the village of Lingga, surrounded by marshes and ponds, with
barley fields and rich grass growing between the patches of water. There
were several other villages in sight, so that the plain was evidently
fertile and could support a considerable population. This was the first
place where we became bothered by sand flies, which in the morning were
very troublesome; but when the wind got up, as it always did in the
afternoons, it blew them away, and for once was welcome. The villagers
were very hospitable; they produced tea and beer brewed from barley for
us as soon as we arrived there. The latter is quite a pleasant drink on
a hot day, but it did not agree with my inside at all. The people here
had never seen a European before, and though at first inclined to be
rather shy, they soon became very friendly and curious. Some pieces of
silver paper from chocolates quite won the hearts of the children who
flocked around and did not in the least mind being photographed. To the
South extended the chain of snows of the main range of the Himalayas,
and on the way we had several clear and distinct views of Mount Everest.
Morshead, who had left the day before, was camped at a small monastery a
few miles to the North of us in order to follow the crest of the ridge
of hills and to survey both sides, but was to join us again at Tinki.
The weather now was really delightful, though to the South of us we
still saw heavy clouds which brought showers of snow as far as the
mountains, but they did not reach us.
From here to Tinki was about 13 miles over a perfectly level plain. The
midges or sand flies were very troublesome the whole way and came in
hundreds round one's head, got inside one's topee, and were thoroughly
objectionable. The plain appeared very fertile, as there seemed to be
plenty of water and great herds of yaks and flocks of sheep were grazing
upon it. In the marshes and ponds were many bar-headed geese, Brahminy
ducks, mallard and teal. After the rains, it is evident that a great
part of this plain is under water. About a couple of miles from Tinki we
crossed some curious sand dunes, about 20 feet high, which are evidently
on the move, and soon afterwards the Jongpen of Tinki came riding out to
meet us with a few mounted followers, he himself riding a fine white
pony. He was very Chinese in appearance, wearing finely embroidered
silks with a Chinese hat and a long pigtail, and his manners were
excellent. He escorted us to the place where our camp was to be, and had
had three or four tents already pitched for us. Tea and country beer
were at once served, and we rested in the shade of his Chinese tents
until our transport arrived.
[Illustration: TINKI DZONG.]
We were encamped in a very picturesque spot beside a large pond that was
full of bar-headed geese, Brahminy ducks and terns. On the opposite side
of this pond rose the walls and towers of the fort of Tinki. As soon as
we had settled down, the Jongpen came again to pay us a formal visit,
presented us with four sheep and a couple of hundred eggs and promised
to do everything he could to help us and to forward us on our way. Half
a mile above us was a large village and a big monastery belonging to the
Yellow Sect of Buddhists who also owned a fine grove of willows. The
bottom of the valley was all covered with barley fields, now a tender
green and coming up well. As the fresh transport had not arrived, we had
to spend the following day there. This gave an opportunity for Abdul
Jalil, our photographic assistant, to rejoin us. We had sent him back to
Phari in order to change some more rupees into Tibetan currency, as we
found that Indian notes or rupees were not accepted any further to the
West. Abdul Jalil had been very nervous about travelling with so much
money and had borrowed a revolver and a rifle from members of the
Expedition besides two large Tibetan swords and a dagger which he
obtained from the Jongpen. In the morning, with Bullock, I went to
return the call of the Jongpen. His fort at the time was under repair,
so he was living in a small house outside the main building. He was very
affable and gave us tea: we were then able to make all the arrangements
for transport except the actual fixing of the price. For this he said he
would have to consult his head-men. Just as we were about to leave he
insisted on our eating the large meal which he had had prepared for us.
He gave us small dishes of excellent macaroni and mince, seasoned up
with chillies and very well cooked--much better than anything our cooks
could produce. This we had to eat with chopsticks--a somewhat difficult
proceeding, as we were not yet used to them. Later on, however, after
much practice, we found no difficulty in consuming the numerous bowls of
this excellent dish that the Tibetans always set before one. The Jongpen
told us that he had been twenty-nine years in Government service, and he
was expecting to have a better post than this shortly. His health was
poor and he said he had been suffering much from indigestion, so I gave
him some pills and tabloids, for which he was very grateful. On the
return journey, he told me that he had greatly benefited by my
treatment. The bar-headed geese and the wild duck here were
extraordinarily tame, allowing us to approach within five yards of them
and showing no signs of fear. They would come and waddle round our
tents, picking up any scraps of food. The Jongpen had begged us not to
shoot or kill any of them, as he said a Lama had been sent specially
from Lhasa some years ago in order to tame the creatures, and certainly
the result was extraordinary; it was most interesting to watch these
birds, ordinarily so wild, from so close a distance. In the evening the
Jongpen came over to see us again, and after a good hour's bargaining
over the price of the transport, we finally reached a reasonable and
amicable agreement. Every evening, to the South of us, there were
constant flashes of lightning all along the horizon. In the morning I
woke up to the unusual sound of drops of rain, but this only lasted for
five minutes and then cleared up, though the sky remained clouded all
the morning. There was the usual fighting and confusion about the loads,
each person trying to get the lightest loads for his own animal. The
result was that there was much talking and fighting, and nothing was
actually done until some head-man would come and take control and decide
the dispute. The method of adjudication was as follows:--From each of
the families who were regarded as responsible for the supply of a
transport animal was taken one of the embroidered garters by which the
man's felt boots are kept in their place. These garters were shuffled,
as one might shuffle a pack of cards, after which a single garter was
laid upon each load. The family to which the garter belonged thereupon
became responsible for that load and had to pack it upon the animal's
back. Although we had only ninety animals, there were forty-five
different families supplying them.
The march from Tinki to Chushar Nango was about 14 miles and was up the
valley behind Tinki to the Tinki Pass. On the way we passed
well-irrigated fields of barley and then climbed up a spur covered with
a small yellow cistus. After this a long gentle pull brought us to the
top of the pass, 17,100 feet. There was a very fine view from here to
the East looking over Tinki and Khamba Dzong and along the Northern
slopes of the Himalayas. I climbed up a hill about 600 feet above the
pass, whence I had a more extensive view still. I could see far away to
the East to Chomolhari, while in the foreground was the large and
picturesque lake called Tsomotretung backed by the rugged chain of
peaks that separated us from the valley of the Brahmaputra. To the West
we looked down into the valley of the Yaru, which flowed gently through
a broad and flat valley. To the South-west was a range of sharp granite
peaks rising up to 22,000 feet, which ran North and South and forced the
Yaru to flow round them before it could find its way into Nepal. The
descent from the pass was much steeper. We passed many of our old
friends the pink trumpet-shaped flowers, also a curious white and pink
flower, rather like a daphne in shape, and smelling very sweetly, which
grew in masses along the path. It was evidently poisonous as no animal
would touch it. I picked some flowers of it and put them in my
buttonhole, but was warned by the Tibetans not to do so, as they said it
was poisonous and would give me a headache. Lower down the valley was
full of small dwarf gorse bushes--1 foot to 18 inches high--which
carpeted the ground. Everywhere were flocks of sheep and cattle grazing
in the valley. Our camp was pitched on a grassy flat just below the
village of Chushar Nango with its fine old ruined tower of stone with
machicolated galleries all round it. To the South of us was the Nila
Pass, which afforded an easy way into Nepal. The climate here was fairly
warm, but the wind blew very strongly all that evening. Next day we saw
the mountains all covered with fresh snow down to 16,000 feet, but we
only experienced a slight drizzle as most of the snowflakes evaporated
before they reached the ground, though clouds remained overhead all the
morning. Morshead and his surveyors had been kept very busy up till now
surveying and plotting in the intervening country from the tops of the
hills, but owing to the clouds they were unable to do anything. We were
all very late in starting, as our transport animals had been changed and
the yaks that were supplied to us were very wild. In the first few
minutes after starting we saw the plain strewn with our kits and stores,
and yaks careering off in every direction with their tails in the air.
The march to Gyangkar Nangpa to-day was only a short one and led across
a wide plain through which flowed the muddy and sluggish waters of the
Yaru. The existing maps of this country were quite misleading and we
could no longer depend on them. The rivers flowed in opposite directions
to those shown on the map and mountains were shown where there were
none. After about 2 or 3 miles, we had to ford the river, which was
about 80 yards wide and not quite 3 feet deep. We then rode on across
the plain, which was in some parts sandy and in others muddy or
gravelly; evidently during the rainy season a shallow lake. In places
the dwarf gorse grew on it. The sandy tracks were covered with curious
hillocks 5 to 6 feet in height formed by the drifting sand and the gorse
bushes. These in order to keep alive were compelled to push their
branches through the sand which in its turn became piled up around them.
Towards the West end of the plain were marshes and shallow lakes around
which we had to make big detours.
Gyangkar Nangpa, which was our destination, was the country residence of
the Phari Jongpen. His brother, who was acting as agent for him, rode
out to meet us and escorted us to his house, a fine solid stone building
dominating all the small houses. The tops of the walls were covered with
gorse and juniper, rather suggestive of Christmas decorations. Tents
were pitched for us in a grass paddock close to a grove of willows. We
were then conducted upstairs into a pleasant room where were some fine
gilt Chinese cabinets and some good Chinese rugs. Here the Jongpen had a
meal prepared for us. We were first given tea, milk and beer, after
which some fifteen dumplings apiece, each as big as a small apple, were
put down in front of us together with three other bowls. In one of these
was a black Chinese sauce, in another a chillie paste, and a third
contained a barley soup. We were then given chopsticks with which we
were expected to convey the dumplings into the barley soup, break them
up there, season them with the various sauces, and then convey them to
our mouths--a not too easy feat. This meal was so satisfying that we
felt that we did not want to eat anything for a long time afterwards. We
were told that in the rainy season the river here was unfordable, as it
rose several feet and flooded over the plains, and it was then necessary
to keep to the North or to the South of it. In the evening the agent
came to make an official call and presented us with a sheep and a number
of eggs. We invited him to dinner and gave him his first taste of such
European cooking as could be provided by our native cooks.
[Illustration: GYANGKA RANGE FROM NEAR CHUSHAR.]
There was a slight frost during the night, but the day turned out very
fine. Our host accompanied us to the village of Rongkong, one of the
villages belonging to his brother, and here he said good-bye to us. The
day's march was uninteresting. We followed along the left bank of the
Yaru past well-irrigated barley fields, for there was any amount of
water here, until the valley narrowed and the sides came down steeper,
when it became covered with gorse bushes. This valley we descended for
about 10 miles until it debouched into another, a broader sandy valley
where the Yaru changed its course to the South. We forded it at a point
where it was about 90 yards wide and 31/2 feet deep, and we then sat down
and waited for our transport to come up. Beyond us lay a wide sandy
valley through which a stream flowed sometimes on the surface, but more
often underground, when it formed dangerous quicksands. When the
transport came up, our drivers were very anxious to cross immediately,
as there was a strong wind blowing and a violent sandstorm. They said
that it would be much safer to cross now that all the fresh sand had
blown over the wet sand. In the morning, they said, after a still night,
it was very dangerous, so following their advice we started off, every
one dressed up as though for a gas attack, with goggles over the eyes
and comforters or handkerchiefs tied over the mouth and nose to keep the
sand out. At first we wound our way through big sand dunes, off which
the sand was blowing like smoke. Under one of these sand dunes we found
our coolies halted and lost. Some of the donkeys, too, had been
unloaded here, as they could not find their way across in the sandstorm.
After leaving the dunes, there were wide stretches of wet sand to cross,
over which the dried sand from the dunes was being blown like long wisps
of smoke so that the whole ground appeared to be moving. In places where
the wet sand shook and quivered we galloped along. Eventually we and our
transport arrived on the far side of the plain in safety. It was now too
late, however, to go on any further, so we camped on the dunes near the
quicksands in the teeth of the gale. The sand was being whirled up on to
us and into our tents until everything and every one was full of sand.
Water was handy, but yak dung, our only fuel, was scarce and scanty.
Just before dark a very beautiful and lofty peak appeared to the
Southwards. Our drivers called it Chomo Uri (The Goddess of the
Turquoise Peak) and we had many discussions as to what mountain this
was. In the morning, after taking its bearings carefully, we decided
that this could be no other than Mount Everest. We found out afterwards
that the name, Chomo Uri, was purely a local name for the mountain.
Throughout Tibet it was known as Chomolungma--Goddess Mother of the
Country--and this is its proper Tibetan name.
Next morning, after an uncomfortable and windy night, we rode for
several miles across a plain covered with sand dunes 20 feet or more in
height. On reaching the entrance to the valley of Bhong-chu, I
determined to separate myself from the main party in order to explore a
peak which attracted my attention on the North side of the valley and
seemed to promise good views of Mount Everest and its surroundings.
After a climb of some 3,000 feet, I found myself on a spur from which I
had a very wonderful view. The view extended to the East from beyond
Chomolhari--over 120 miles away--and embraced practically all the high
snow peaks from Chomolhari to Gosainthan, a distance of some 250 miles.
In the centre Mount Everest stood up all by itself, a wonderful peak
towering above its neighbours and entirely without a rival. I spent
four or five hours at the top of this hill, basking in the sun, as it
was delightfully hot. I saw several swallow-tailed butterflies, also a
number of bees, wasps and horse flies. Major Morshead and his surveyors
soon afterwards joined us, intending to take advantage of the fine view.
In the afternoon I left the peak and descended into the valley in search
of our new camp, for we had now left the Yaru and had turned up into the
valley of the Bhong-chu, a river that flowed from the West, with a very
considerable volume of water. As there was rinderpest in the valley, our
transport consisted now of donkeys only, many of them being very
diminutive in size, but quite accustomed to carrying heavy loads. Our
camp was pitched at a place called Trangso Chumbab, where there was an
old Chinese rest-house. The Bhong-chu here was nearly 200 yards in
width, but there was quite a good ford across it to Tsogo. Here we found
many flourishing villages and much cultivation. We seemed to be entering
a much more populated part of the country; from the top of the hill I
counted in one valley no less than fifteen villages and quite a number
of willow groves. From here a longish march of 18 miles up the valley of
the Bhong-chu brought us to Kyishong--a pretty little village on the
banks of the river. There were a few willow trees here and a lot of sea
buckthorn. I did not keep to the road, but started early across a big
plain on which I was lucky enough to shoot a goa with quite
good horns. The day was very hot and sultry, and after crossing the
plain I went up a side valley which turned out to be extremely pretty.
It was very narrow and a mass of wild rose bushes. These roses were all
of a creamy yellow, and every bush was covered with hundreds of
sweet-smelling flowers. There was also a curious black clematis and
several species of broom and rock cistus. Here and there were grassy
patches with bubbling springs of crystal clearness. Rock pigeons,
Brahminy ducks, blackbirds and numerous other varieties of small birds
came down to drink here and did not mind us at all. About two o'clock
the weather suddenly changed and violent thunderstorms started all
round us, first on the opposite side of the valley and then on every
side. Heavy hail came down at the same time and the ground soon became
white. On descending into the valley, I put up what was to me a new kind
of partridge, also numerous mountain hares. On emerging into the main
valley, I noticed a group of five large Chortens. I was told that the
centre Chorten had been built over a very bad demon, and that it kept
him down. The other four Chortens at the corners prevented his ever
getting away.
The next day's march to Shekar Dzong was a short one of only 12 miles.
We followed the main valley for about 6 miles through some interesting
conglomerate gorges alternating with open spaces covered with sea
buckthorn. We then turned off Northwards up a side valley which led us
to the town and fort of Shekar. This place was very finely situated on a
big rocky and sharp-pointed mountain like an enlarged St. Michael's
Mount. The actual town stands at the foot of the hill, but a large
monastery, holding over 400 monks and consisting of innumerable
buildings, is literally perched half-way up the cliff. The buildings are
connected by walls and towers with the fort, which rises above them all.
The fort again is connected by turreted walls with a curious Gothic-like
structure on the summit of the hill where incense is offered up daily.
On our arrival the whole town turned out and surrounded us with much
curiosity, for we were the first Europeans that they had ever seen. A
small tent had been pitched for us, but there was such a crowd round it
that I retreated to a willow grove close by, which was protected by a
wall. As the Jongpen had not come to see us, Chheten Wangdi went over to
find him; presently he came along with a basket of eggs and with many
apologies for not coming before, but he said that he had had no warning
of our arrival. This was but partly true, for though our passport did
not particularly mention this place, it authorised all officials to help
us to their utmost, and the Jongpen certainly knew and had heard that we
were coming. I asked him to give orders that no intoxicating spirits
should be served out to our followers, remembering the trouble we had
had in one or two places before owing to their all getting drunk. Our
tents were all pitched inside an enclosure and in the shade of the
willow grove, and above us towered the picturesque buildings of the fort
and the monastery. This was by far the largest and most interesting
place that we had yet come across. For our mess tent we were given a
fine Chinese tent such as they always seem to keep for the entertainment
of guests of honour. As in most places, there were two Jongpens residing
here, one lay and the other ecclesiastical, and finding that Tingri was
under their jurisdiction, we asked them to issue orders to their
representatives at Tingri to help us in every way with supplies and
transport.
[Illustration: SHEKAR DZONG.]
June 17 we spent resting at Shekar. In the morning Morshead and I went
to call on the Jongpen; he lives in a poor house at the foot of the
hill, his official residence being three-quarters of the way up, but he
wisely prefers to live at the bottom, not being very fond of exercise.
He was busy adding on to his house, and we were shown into the old part
in which he was living. He gave us the usual Tibetan tea and sweetmeats
and then insisted on our having macaroni and meat seasoned with
chillies, which was excellent, followed by junket served in china bowls.
He had some very fine teacups of agate and hornblende schist with finely
chased silver covers, which I admired very much. That afternoon several
of us went up to visit the big monastery of Shekar Choe-te. This
consisted of a great number of buildings terraced one above the other on
a very steep rocky slope. A path along the face of the rock brought us
to several archways under which we passed. We then had to go up and down
some picturesque but very steep and narrow streets until we came to a
large courtyard. On one side of this was the main temple. In this temple
were several gilt statues of Buddha decorated all over with turquoises
and other precious stones, and behind them a huge figure of Buddha quite
50 feet high. Every year, they told us, they had to re-gild his face.
Around were eight curious figures about 10 feet high and dressed in
quaint flounces which they said were the guardians of the shrine. We
then went up steep and slippery ladders, in almost pitch darkness, and
came out on a platform opposite the face of the great Buddha. Here were
some beautifully chased silver teapots and other interesting pieces of
silver, richly decorated in relief. Inside the shrine, which was very
dark, the smell of rancid butter was almost overpowering as all the
lamps burnt butter. The official head of the monastery showed us round.
He was apparently appointed from Lhasa and was responsible for all the
revenues and financial dealings of the monastery. We were given very
buttery tea in the roof courtyard, which was a pleasant spot, and here I
photographed a group of several monks. They had never seen a camera or
photographs before, but they had heard that such a thing was possible
and were very much interested in it. Before leaving we went in to see
the Head Lama who had lived over sixty-six years in this monastery. He
was looked upon as being extremely holy and as the re-incarnation of a
former abbot, and they therefore practically worshipped him. There was
only one tooth left in his mouth, but for all that he had a very
pleasant smile. All around his room were silver-gilt Chortens inlaid
with turquoises and precious stones and incense was being burnt
everywhere. After much persuasion the other monks induced him to come
outside and have his photograph taken, telling him that he was an old
man, and that his time on earth was now short, and they would like to
have a picture of him to remember him by. He was accordingly brought
out, dressed up in robes of beautiful golden brocades, with priceless
silk Chinese hangings arranged behind him while he sat on a raised dais
with his dorje and his bell in front of him, placed upon a finely carved
Chinese table. The fame of this photograph spread throughout the country
and in places hundreds of miles away I was asked for photographs of the
Old Abbot of Shekar Choe-te, nor could I give a more welcome present at
any house than a photograph of the Old Abbot. Being looked upon as a
saint, he was worshipped, and they would put these little photographs in
shrines and burn incense in front of them.
[Illustration: THE ABBOT OF SHEKAR CHOeTE.]
About midnight that night I was suddenly awakened by yells and loud
shouting and hammering close to my tent and next to that in which
Bullock and Mallory were sleeping. The latter turned out and found that
a Tibetan had seized an ice axe and a mallet and was busy hammering on
our store boxes. He gave chase, but failed to catch the intruder. Some
of our coolies, however, found out where he had gone to, and Chheten
Wangdi had him handed over to the Jongpen. On investigation in the
morning the man proved to be a madman whom his parents always kept
locked up during nights when the moon was full, but he had managed to
escape, so we handed him back to his family.
Our transport was very slow in arriving, and there were so many delays
that it was midday before the procession finally moved off. The loads,
too, were very badly put on and kept falling off, also the transport was
quite the worst that we had yet had. For about 5 miles the path went up
and down hill and through much sand until we came to the bridge over the
Bhong-chu. This bridge consisted of four or five stout pillars of loose
stones which acted as piers, on which were laid a few pieces of wood, on
which flat stones were placed. It was a rough form of bridge, but served
at ordinary times for its purpose. During the course of this summer,
however, after heavy rain, these piers so dammed up the water as to
cause it to rise some 4 or 5 feet on the upper side of them with the
result that the immense weight of water swept the whole bridge away.
Bullock and Mallory with half a dozen coolies had left early in the
morning, intending to bivouac out for a couple of nights and climb one
of the hills to the South of the Bhong-chu in order to get a view of
Mount Everest. After we had gone about 5 miles we met them close to the
bridge, as they had lost their way and had been walking for about 15
miles: not having found the bridge, they had forded the river and had
got wet up to their necks in crossing it. At dusk we reached the village
of Tsakor, where we found a tent pitched for us, and here we spent the
night. Our transport did not turn up till nearly nine o'clock, and so we
all slept in the mess tent. From here to Tingri was still another 20
miles--the path following the right bank of the Bhong-chu the whole way.
In places the river was as much as 200 yards wide and flowed very
sluggishly. We were told that the waters were very low, but that next
month, when the rains had broken, the river often filled the whole of
the bottom of the valley. On the way we passed some very handsome
black-necked cranes as large as the Saurus crane. These had black heads
and bills, with red eyes, light grey bodies and black tails with fine
feathers. On this march the midges were dreadfully annoying the whole
way, and we were surrounded with clouds of them the whole time. Their
bite was very tiresome and extremely irritating. On the way we passed a
Mongolian who had taken eleven months in coming from Lhasa and who was
on his way to Nepal. His method of progression was by throwing himself
at full length down on the ground. He then got up and at the spot where
his hands touched the ground repeated the motion again. As we approached
Tingri, the valley widened out and bent round to the South. Tingri
itself was situated on the side of a small hill in the middle of a great
plain, from which, looking to the South, was visible the wonderful chain
of snowy peaks, many of them over 25,000 feet in height, which extends
Westwards from Mount Everest. We crossed the Ra-chu--a tributary of the
Bhong-chu, partly by bridges and partly by fords; it was split up into a
number of small and very muddy channels that took their rise from the
Kyetrak Glacier. Tingri was to be our first base for reconnoitring the
Northern and North-western approaches to Mount Everest. It was June 19
when we arrived there, so that it had taken us just a month's travelling
from Darjeeling to perform this part of our journey.