TINGRI AND THE COUNTRY TO THE SOUTH
Tingri is a place of some importance, with a considerable trade at
certain seasons of the year. It is the last place of any size on this
side of the Nepalese frontier and boasts of a military governor. The
garrison, however, when we visited it, consisted only of a sergeant and
four or five soldiers. There were about three hundred houses in Tingri,
all clustered together on the slopes of a small isolated hill standing
in the middle of the great plain. On the top of the hill was the old
Chinese fort, now all falling into ruin, but still littered with papers
and books, written in Chinese characters, left behind by the Chinese on
their hasty departure. Inside were quaint mural frescoes of curious old
men riding stags or winged dragons painted in many colours. All the way
up the valley of the Bhong-chu we had seen ruins of walls and evidences
of much fighting. These all dated back, we were told, to the time of the
Nepalese invasions of Tibet in the eighteenth century when the Gurkhas
penetrated so far into Tibet that they actually got to Shigatse, and the
Tibetans had to call upon the Chinese Empire for help. The Chinese came
into the country with a large army, defeated the Gurkhas, drove them out
of Tibet and crossed the Himalayas with a considerable army into Nepal,
an extraordinary military feat considering the enormous difficulty of
moving an army in these unhospitable regions over the high mountain
passes through which it is approached. The Chinese, after this, never
left Tibet until they were driven out by the Tibetans only a few years
ago. In the hills round Tingri we came across many evidences of the
fighting which then took place. This probably accounted for the large
number of ruined and deserted villages that we saw in the valleys
around. At the foot of the hill was a large Chinese rest-house which was
only used to house Tibetan officials when they came there on duty. The
Tibetans themselves did not like to live in or use the place, as many
Chinese had died there and they thought that their ghosts haunted the
spot. This rest-house was, however, swept out and prepared for our
reception, as we had told the Tibetans that we should probably stay
there for some time and should want a house to protect us from the wind
and to provide a dark room for developing our photographs. The
rest-house consisted of three courtyards in the outer one we put the
coolies, in the middle one the surveyors, and the inner one we kept for
ourselves. In appearance the building was quite picturesque with its
mural paintings of flying dogs and fierce dragons; but in spite of its
picturesqueness outside and its handsome appearance, the rooms inside
were small, and when the rain came it poured through the roof and our
beds had to be shifted many times during the night to avoid the drips of
water. It however provided an excellent dark room for us after we had
well plastered the walls, the floor and the ceiling with mud and got rid
of the dust of ages. To do any photographic work in Tibet a house is a
necessity, as with the violent wind that blows every day all one's
belongings get covered with dust which would ruin any negative. At first
we found water a great difficulty as the local water was full of mud,
but we eventually discovered a beautifully clear spring, about half a
mile away, which bubbled up in a deep bluey green basin, and this water
we used always, both for drinking and for photographic work. Tingri had
many advantages as a base. Stores, supplies and transport were always
available there, as it was the headquarters of the district. It also
provided an easy means of approach to Mount Everest from the North-west
and to the high group of mountains that lay to the West of Mount
Everest. After sorting out all our stores and equipment and seeing in
what state they were after the journey, our next business was the making
of a dark room, as we had taken many photographs on the journey that
required developing. The weather at this time was very fine, but the
Tibetans kept on telling us that the rainy season ought to be starting,
so we determined as soon as possible to send out parties in different
directions to make the most of the favourable opportunity. The first
morning after our arrival we were up on the top of the hill by six
o'clock in the hope of getting a good view to the South, but the clouds
were already over most of the mountains. Everest we could see quite
clearly, and Cho-Uyo, the great 26,800 feet peak that lies to the West
of Mount Everest. The Depon here, who was acting as the Governor of the
place, was a nice young fellow and very cheery, and later on I got to
know him very well and went over to his house and was entertained by him
and his wife. He told me that the Tibetans still paid tribute to Nepal
for all that part of the country, and that the amount they had to pay
was the equivalent of 5,000 rupees per annum. The Nepalese kept a
head-man at Tingri and another at Nyenyam to deal with all criminal
cases and offences committed by Nepalese subjects when in Tibet. I found
later on that the Tibetans were very frightened of the Nepalese, or of
having any dealings with a Gurkha. I took photographs of the Depon's
wife and all their children, and of his mother-in-law, which delighted
them immensely; the wife at first was very shy of coming forward, but
after many tears and protestations her husband finally induced her to be
photographed. The great semi-circular head-dresses that the women wear
are usually covered with turquoises, and coral, and often with strings
of seed pearls across them. Round their necks hang long chains of either
turquoise or coral beads, sometimes mixed with lumps of amber. Suspended
round the neck by a shorter chain is generally a very elaborately
decorated charm box, those belonging to the richer or upper classes
being of gold inlaid with turquoises, the poorer people having them
made of silver with poorer turquoises. The officials, as a rule, have a
long ear-ring, 4 or 5 inches long, of turquoises and pearls, suspended
from the left ear, while in the right ear they wear a single turquoise
of very good quality. Nearly every one carries a rosary, with which
their hands are playing about the whole day. We were told that the laws
governing marriage in those parts were strictly regulated. Owing to the
excessive number of males, a form of polyandry prevails. If there were
four brothers in a family, and the eldest one married a wife, his wife
would also be the property of the three younger brothers; but if the
second or third brother married, their wives would be common only to
themselves and their youngest brother. In Tibet, when, owing to the
severe climate, digging is impossible for about six months in the year,
if a man dies his body is handed over to professional corpse butchers,
of whom there are one or two in every village. These butchers cut the
body up into small pieces, which are taken out on to a hill-top and
scattered about for the birds of the air or the wolves to devour. If by
any chance there is a delay in consuming these remains, this is looked
upon as a sign that the man has led an evil life during his lifetime.
On June 22 Wollaston rejoined us again. He had escorted Raeburn to
Lachen, and had there arranged for an assistant surgeon to come up and
take him back as far as Gangtok. Wollaston had then come on as fast as
possible to rejoin us. His kit did not arrive till the following day, as
he had ridden in direct from Shekar Dzong. The following day Bullock and
Mallory left us, making direct for Mount Everest, and intending to
reconnoitre the North and Northwestern slopes. Looked at from here it is
certainly a very wonderful mountain, as it seems to stand up all by
itself, but from this side it looks far too steep to be climbed. On June
25 Wheeler and Heron went off to Kyetrak, from which point Wheeler was
to begin his photographic survey. I had intended to start the following
day and join them, but the acid hypo that I had been using for fixing
had given off so many sulphur fumes that I had been quite "gassed" for
several days and had lost my voice in consequence. Unfortunately my
orderly and Wheeler's bearer, who were both Mahommedans, were taken ill
with enteric. Wheeler's bearer was in a very bad way, and a few days
after my departure he died, but my orderly, after a bad attack,
recovered, and when I returned three weeks later he was able to be up
and to walk about a little. As Wollaston was likely to be detained here
for some time owing to these cases of sickness, and as Morshead wanted
to get in some surveying all round Tingri, I thought it would be a good
opportunity to visit the different parties that we had sent out, and
also to get, if possible, some information about Kharta, which I
intended should be our second base. The coolies that we had still with
us at Tingri were kept busy by Wollaston, and daily they would bring in
rats, birds, lizards, beetles, or fish which they had collected for him.
The local people would not make any attempt to collect these animals, as
they said it was against their religion. On June 26 I started out to the
South and camped the first night at Sharto, a small village about 9
miles across the plain to the South of Tingri. On the way we passed
numbers of bees that seemed to be coming up out of the ground and
swarming. These were all of a very light brown colour. Sharto is only a
small village, but there are no other houses between it and Kyetrak, so
that it was necessary to stop there. As the wind always blows with great
strength here, the tents were pitched within some sheltering walls. In
every place that we went to now we managed to get some kind of green
food which was turned into spinach; a small kind of weed that grows in
the barley fields was generally thus used. At other times we tried
turnip leaves, or again, when we were higher and above the limits of
cultivation, the young shoots of the nettle which grows up to 17,000
feet, and is really very good. I had taken with me this time a Tibetan
whom we had picked up on the way. He was called Poo, and he turned out
to be an excellent cook who could make any of the Tibetan dishes. As he
was a sensible fellow, and very seldom drunk, I made a good deal of use
of him. He accompanied me in all my wanderings, and I could not have
found a more useful servant when travelling, as he never seemed to mind
the cold or the height and could always produce a fire of some kind,
even though he had forgotten to bring any matches. That evening at
Sharto there was a curious false sunset in the East with rays of light
in the deep purple of the sky. All the hills stood out with wonderful
sharpness, and the colours were very beautiful. Towards nightfall we saw
a number of kiang, which came quite close up to the camp and started
feeding on the barley fields in spite of the pillars of stones and the
strings which are put round the fields to keep both them and the hares
away from the crops. The next morning I started off early as I intended
to climb a hill 17,700 feet, on the way to Kyetrak. This hill, however,
proved further off than I anticipated, and we had some difficulty in
crossing a glacier stream, so that I did not get up to the top till 9
a.m., by which time the clouds had hidden a great part of the mountains
to the South of us. The view, nevertheless, was extraordinarily fine.
The top of Everest just showed above a great icy range to the East of
us, and South-east was that great group of mountains of which Cho-Uyo,
26,800 feet, is the highest. Immense granite precipices descended sheer
for several thousand feet until they reached great winding glaciers,
while from over the Khombu Pass long wisps of cloud came sailing round
these peaks and eventually hid them from our view. To the North the view
extended right up to the watershed of the Brahmaputra, 80 to 100 miles
distant. The different colours of the hills, the light and shade from
the clouds, all formed a charming picture. Once over 17,000 feet, I met
my old friend the dwarf blue poppy (_Meconopsis_) and many pretty white,
blue and yellow saxifrages that grew on the rocks. Descending from this
hill into the Kyetrak Valley, we passed a number of goa which were quite
tame, but unfortunately they were all females. We had two more big
glacial torrents to cross which later in the afternoon would probably
have been impassable as by that time they would have risen another 2
feet, due to the melting of the snow and the ice by the hot sun in the
morning; indeed, we only just managed to get across when we did. The
main Kyetrak stream comes from the great glacier that descends from
Cho-Uyo and the Khombu Pass. Opposite the village of Kyetrak it is
luckily divided into a number of small streams, so that it is usually
possible to get across it, though in the afternoons it is always
somewhat difficult.
This village lies at a height of 16,000 feet, at the foot of the Khombu
or Nangba Pass and the Pusi Pass. The former is a high glacier-covered
pass, about 19,000 feet, that leads into the Khombu Valley in Nepal. The
other, the Pusi Pass, is a much lower and easier pass that leads into
the Rongshar Valley. Between these two passes lies a very beautiful
glacier-covered peak called Chorabsang. Here at Kyetrak I met Heron and
Wheeler encamped in the shelter of some walls close to the village,
which consisted of a few dirty stone houses and a big Chorten. The
people told me that they lived here all the year round, and that they
owned the grazing for many miles to the North and possessed herds of
yaks several thousand in number. Traffic could be kept up over these
passes, they said, at all times of the year, though only with great
difficulty, and with much danger, whole convoys being sometimes wiped
out by blizzards when trying to cross the Khombu Pass, as the fine
powdery snow is blown down into their faces from every direction and
they finally get suffocated by it. That night there was a sharp frost,
and the following morning Heron and I started to go up towards the
Khombu Pass, following at first the East side of the Kyetrak Glacier.
For about 6 or 7 miles we rode beside the great moraine that extended
along the East side of this glacier; every now and then we climbed up on
to a mound on the edge of the glacier in order to take photographs of
it. The ice was all torn and riven into wonderful shapes and opposite
us was the finely crevassed peak of Chorabsang. I pushed on, leaving
Heron to come on at a slower pace, as I was anxious to get to the top of
the pass before the clouds should have come up and hidden all the views.
Every day it cost us a race to get up to a point of vantage before the
clouds should have come up and hidden everything. Leaving the pony
behind, with one coolie, I pressed forward for some 4 miles up a very
stony and slippery moraine on the glacier. Here were many curious ice
formations--ice tables with a big flat rock superimposed, curious
upright pillars of ice, and the main glacier itself was worn by stone
and water into the weirdest shapes and forms. In places, too, we came
across that curious formation which in South America is called Nieve
Penitentes. As we passed onwards, new glaciers opened up in every
valley. The views up some of these side valleys, which often widened out
into great amphitheatres, were very grand, especially that of the huge
glacier that swept down from below the rock walls of Cho-Uyo.
On arriving at the end of the moraine, the boots that my coolie was
wearing came to pieces and he said he could go no further across the
snow, so shouldering the big camera, I started off alone. At first the
ice was firm, but soon I came to soft snow and much water underneath it:
they made the going very unpleasant and I kept floundering about up to
my knees in snow and water. At length I came to a large crevasse along
the edge of which I followed for over half a mile as most of the snow
bridges across it were unsafe. At last I found my way across and by
climbing on to some rocks was able to look over the top of the pass and
down into Nepal. The height of the pass seemed to be about 19,000 feet,
and as the day was very hot, I lay down and went sound asleep, only
waking up when it began to snow. I then started, none too soon, on my
homeward journey: all the way back snow fell heavily. I was very
thankful to meet my coolie again and to hand over the camera to him:
carrying a camera for five or six hours in soft snow at a height of
over 18,000 feet is a heavy tax upon the endurance of anyone
unaccustomed to carrying weights. Wheeler meanwhile had moved up his
camp from Kyetrak to a spot on the moraine East of the glacier and
intended to spend a week or fortnight in that valley.
The next morning Heron and I started to go over the Pusi Pass (Marmot
Pass), so called because of the number of marmots that frequent the
Southern slopes. After fording the Kyetrak River, we climbed up the
moraine to the West of the Kyetrak Glacier and then turned up some easy
grass hills until we came to the top of the pass, 17,700 feet.
Here at the very top were growing some delightful little dwarf
forget-me-nots--not an inch high--also many white and yellow saxifrages.
Most of the views were unfortunately hidden by clouds, though one fine
triple-headed peak showed up well to the South. We passed several flocks
of female burhel (_Ovis nahura_), which were quite tame, and allowed us
to ride up to within 50 yards of them. The hillsides were bare at first
and grassy and the air felt distinctly cold and damp. We now commenced
our long descent, and at 16,000 feet began to meet with juniper bushes
and many dwarf rhododendrons. As we got lower, many more varieties of
bushes appeared. There were two or three kinds of berberis, loniceras,
white and pink spiraeas, and quantities of white roses; besides these
were masses of primulas and anemones, and pink, white or mauve
geraniums. We now followed the right bank of the Shung-chu, a great
glacial torrent, which joined by several others became an unfordable
stream. The path was well engineered, sometimes close to the river, and
sometimes built out on rocks high above the stream. All of a sudden the
valley narrowed into a great gorge. We had left all the granites and
slates behind and had suddenly come into the zone of the gneiss, which
extended many miles to the South. A little way further down, at a place
where two other valleys meet, we caught sight of some green barley
fields lying round the small village of Tasang where we encamped on a
terrace for the night. We were now at a height of only 13,300 feet, and
were able to get fresh eggs and vegetables again. It was a great
pleasure once more to have wood fires in place of the yak dung with its
acrid smoke, which caused all one's food to taste unpleasantly. Here we
used as fuel the aromatic wood of the juniper.
This valley is looked upon as a holy one, owing to the number of juniper
bushes that grow in it, and several hermits and nuns had taken up their
abode in it and shut themselves up in caves in order to meditate. The
nearest village used to supply them with food, and morning and evening
could be seen ascending the blue smoke of the juniper, which they burnt
as incense before the entrances of their dwelling places. There was a
hermit who lived close to the village and whose cave we could see high
up in the rocks above. The villagers told us that after meditating for a
period of ten years, he would be able to live on only ten grains of
barley a day, and they were looking forward to that day. There was
another anchorite female who was supposed to have lived here for 138
years and who was greatly revered. She had forbidden any of the animals
in the valley to be killed, and that was the reason why the flocks of
burhel we had passed were so extremely tame. The next day, giving our
transport a rest, Heron and I walked for 7 or 8 miles down the valley.
On the opposite side of the valley the only trees were birches and
willow, and it was curious that, at these comparatively low heights,
there were no large rhododendrons or fir trees. On the other side of the
valley, the vegetation consisted wholly of juniper, berberis or wild
roses. We descended to 12,000 feet, most of the time going through
narrow gorges. At one place we came across a number of gooseberry bushes
covered with young gooseberries, of which we gathered a sufficient
supply to last us for several days. The rose bushes were charming all
the way. At first they were all of the white creamy coloured variety,
but lower down we came on the big red one with flowers often more than 3
inches in diameter. Wherever there were springs of water there grew
masses of anemones and yellow primulas. We now returned to our camp at
Tasang, and rain then started and continued the remainder of the day.
The people told us that this valley was passable for animals for three
days' journey, after which the river entered into some terrible gorges
down which it was only just possible for a coolie to get along, and
these latter gorges formed the boundary between Tibet and Nepal. On
July 1 we started to return to Kyetrak; the morning was misty when we
started, and though the higher peaks were all hidden in the clouds, the
sun shone brightly and the day was quite hot. Our kit did not arrive
till between five and six o'clock, and the yaks had a great deal of
trouble in getting across the Kyetrak River, as it had risen
considerably. Wheeler was still at his high camp further up the valley,
waiting for a really clear day. The clouds, too, were his great enemies,
as they came up very early every morning from over the Khombu Pass.
From here Heron and I had decided to go on and see how Mallory and
Bullock had been faring in the next valley, so the next morning, after
breakfasting at 5 a.m., we started off. It was one of the coldest
mornings we had had, with a very hard frost, and being on the shady side
of the valley we did not get the sun till several hours after we had
started. After going down the valley for about 6 miles, we turned off to
the East and crossed several easy passes, the higher of them, the Lamna
La, being 16,900 feet. The country was very barren of flowers and
vegetation, but there was a certain amount of grazing for yaks and
sheep. The march to Zambu was a fairly long one of 20 miles, but the
yaks came along well. This was a more prosperous-looking village than
most of them, and the houses were all whitewashed. We were still too
high for barley fields as we were just 16,000 feet, but the wealth of
the village lay in its herds of yaks and sheep; the villagers told us
they owned 3,000 yaks. Shepherds in this country are but poorly paid,
getting only thirty trangkas (10_s._) per annum. But house servants are
still worse off, getting only eight trangkas (2_s._ 8_d._) per annum.
However, they seem to thrive under those wages and there is no
discontent or trades unionism among them. Our camp was pitched in a
sunny spot not far from the village, looking straight over towards Mount
Everest, whose top appeared over the opposite hills. From this side its
precipices looked most formidable and there was also a magnificent ridge
which we had not seen before. There was a slight frost again that night.
Breakfasting, as usual, at 5 a.m., I started up the hill South of the
camp and was lucky enough to get a clear view of Everest and the Rongbuk
Valley that led up to it. This valley ran right up to the foot of Mount
Everest and seemed an easy enough approach, but the mountain itself
looked absolutely unscalable from this side, showing nothing but a
series of very steep precipices. The day turned out to be a very hot
one. I descended into the valley below, and started to ride up towards
Mount Everest. Presently I came to an unfordable stream, and after
making several attempts to get across this, found myself compelled to
return several miles down the valley to the monastery of Choebu, where
there was a slender footbridge. The pony that I was riding was swum
across, a rope being attached to its head. He was then pulled over to
the far side, a proceeding he did not at all enjoy. The yaks, too, were
unladen, and the loads carried by hand over the bridge. After this the
yaks were driven into the river and made to swim across, but they only
went as far as an island in the middle of the river. From this place
they would not budge in spite of stones, curses and threats, until at
length a man with a sling, fetched from the monastery, hurled stones at
them with great violence: this procedure apparently so stung them up
that they thought it advisable to cross the remainder of the stream. At
the entrance to the valley, we passed some very tame burhel within a few
yards of the path, and then went along at the foot of some fine cliffs
with limestone on the top and layers of hornblende and granite below.
At first there was quite a rich vegetation growing here, considering we
were just on 16,000 feet. There were juniper bushes, clematis, willows,
a genista, rock roses, and even some yellow primulas, but as we got
further into the valley it became more stony, and on either side of the
path were small piles of stones heaped up by pilgrims. The valley was
considered very sacred and was apparently a great place of pilgrimage.
We found the base camp of the Alpine climbers pitched close to the
Rongbuk Monastery, where there lived a very high re-incarnated Lama who
was in meditation and not allowed to see anyone. This valley was called
the Rongbuk, or inner valley--a name well suited to it; the legend was
that from this valley there used to be a pass over into the Khombu
Valley, but the high Lama who lived here forbade the use of it, as it
disturbed the meditations of the recluses and hermits, of which there
were several hundred here. At first these good people did not at all
approve of our coming into this valley, as they thought we should be
likely to disturb and distract their meditations.
The Rongbuk Monastery lies at a height of 16,500 feet, and is an
unpleasantly cold spot. This monastery contains twenty permanent Lamas
who always live there, together with the re-incarnated Lama. Besides
these, there are three hundred other associated Lamas who come in
periodically, remaining there for periods of varying length. These
Associate Lamas are mostly well-to-do, and having sufficient money to
support themselves are not a drain upon the villagers. They will often
invest several thousand trangkas with some village, and in return for
this money the village will supply them with food, barley, milk, eggs
and fuel. Higher up the valley there was a smaller monastery, and dotted
along the hillside were numerous cells and caves where monks or nuns had
retired to meditate. Every animal that we saw in this valley was
extraordinarily tame. In the mornings we watched the burhel coming to
some hermits' cells not a hundred yards away from the camp, to be fed,
and from there they went on to other cells. They seemed to have no fear
whatever of human beings. On the way up the valley we passed within 40
to 50 yards of a fine flock of rams, but they barely moved away, and on
the way back we passed some females that were so inquisitive that they
actually came up to within 10 yards of us in order to have a look at us.
The rock pigeons came and fed out of one's hand, and the ravens and all
the other birds here were equally tame; it was most interesting to be
able to watch all their habits and to see them at such close quarters.
On July 4, Heron and I walked up the valley to see Mallory and Bullock,
who had got an Alpine camp some 7 miles further up the valley at a
height of 18,000 feet, where they were training their coolies in snow
and ice work and trying to find out whether there was any possible way
of attacking Mount Everest from this side. It was a beautiful morning
when we started, and on the way we passed one or two small monasteries
and numerous cells where hermits and recluses were living in retirement
and meditation. After crossing several small lake beds and old
moraines--for the big Rongbuk Glacier seemed to have been retiring in
the last few years--we came to the big moraine-covered Rongbuk Glacier.
This glacier appeared to be about 8 or 9 miles long, starting
immediately below an immense circle of cliffs which formed the North
face of Mount Everest. We found afterwards that there were several other
side glaciers that joined in it, which were even larger and longer than
the centre glacier. After some steep scrambles up the moraine-covered
glacier and on to a high terrace on the West side of it, we found
Mallory and Bullock with their coolies encamped in a pleasantly
sheltered spot with plenty of water close at hand and commanding the
most magnificent views of Mount Everest, which here seemed to be only
about 6 miles away and towered up above the glacier, showing immense
cliffs 10,000 feet high. Mallory and Bullock were hard at work training
the coolies in snow and ice work and exploring all the different
glaciers from that side. They were, however, much handicapped by there
only being two of them, which made the work more strenuous. After
spending the day with them, Heron and I returned to our camp in the
evening. The evening light on Mount Everest was wonderfully beautiful.
The weather seems nearly always to clear up about sunset, and its summit
then usually towers far above the clouds in a clear sky. At dusk several
of the Lamas came for medicines of different kinds, which we gave them,
and much to our surprise in the morning they presented us with a number
of fresh eggs in gratitude. Having seen Mallory and Bullock well
established in this valley, our next most important duty seemed to be to
select a site for our next base camp. Some place on the East side of
Mount Everest would have to be chosen, and it seemed that somewhere in
the Kharta Valley would be the most likely spot. Heron and I therefore
determined that we would make a quick reconnaissance of that district
before returning to Tingri. On the following day we moved down from the
Rongbuk Monastery.