THE PEAKS AND MOUNTAIN RANGES
Not, indeed, from the valley itself, but from the mountains which
bound it, can be seen the second highest mountain in the world, and a
number of peaks of 25,000 feet and over. Kashmir is cradled amidst the
very loftiest mountains, and only Nepal can claim still higher peaks.
By a fortunate coincidence the Government of India have this year
published a remarkably interesting scientific treatise on the high
peaks and principal mountain ranges of Asia, by Colonel Burrard, R.E.,
F.R.S., the officiating Surveyor-General of India, and H. H. Hayden,
Superintendent in the Geological Survey of India. Both these officers
have unique qualifications for the task. Colonel Burrard has for years
made a special study of the Himalayas, and Mr. Hayden has for a great
part of his service been engaged in investigating the geology of
various districts of the Himalayas, and he accompanied me to Tibet.
The highest peak in the world is Mount Everest, which is taken to be
29,002 feet above sea-level, and is situated at the back of Nepal. The
_second_ highest is the peak K2 situated on the boundary between the
Kashmir State and Turkestan, and on the main watershed dividing the
rivers of India from the rivers of Central Asia. It is 28,250 feet
above the sea, and is visible from Haramokh on the northern range of
Kashmir.
It may be wondered why so high a peak has no name. The reason is that,
though high, it is not visible from any inhabited place. It is hidden
away in a remote mountain region behind other peaks of almost as great
magnitude, which being nearer overshadow it--as Mount Everest itself
is overshadowed from Darjiling by the Kinchinjunga range. There is no
village within six days' travel of K2 on either side, and,
consequently, until it was fixed by observation of the Survey, it was
unknown. Colonel Montgomerie, when making the survey of Kashmir,
discovered K2. It was among a series of peaks on what is known as the
Karakoram range, and each of these he designated by the capital letter
K, after Karakoram, and by a number, K1, K2, K3, etc. So it came
about that what proved to be the second highest mountain in the world
became known, not by any name, but by merely a letter and a number.
In 1887, on my way from Peking to India, I passed close under K2 on
its northern side, and in a paper read before the Royal Geographical
Society in the following year made some reference to it. At the
conclusion of my lecture, the late General Walker and Sir Henry
Rawlinson proposed the name of Godwin Austin, after the survey officer
who made the topographical survey of the southern portion of the
Karakoram range. This name was adopted by the Geographical Society,
and now appears on many maps. But it has never been accepted by the
Government of India, and Colonel Burrard in his above-mentioned
treatise now writes:--"Of all the designations suggested for the
supreme peak of the Karakoram that of K2 has now the widest vogue,
and it will be in the interests of uniformity if this symbol be
adopted in future to the exclusion of all others. The permanent
adoption of the symbol K2 will serve to record the interesting facts
that a mountain exceeding 28,000 feet in height had not been deemed
worthy of a name by the people living under its shades, and that its
pre-eminent altitude was unsuspected until it was brought to light by
trigonometrical observation."
With these observations I entirely agree.
K2 was, as I have said, discovered by Colonel Montgomerie in 1858. He
took the first observation to it from Haramokh, the conspicuous peak
on the north side of the valley of Kashmir, at a distance of 137
miles. I saw it first from the north from the Aghil range which I
discovered in 1887, and I subsequently passed close under it both then
and in 1889, and never shall I forget the impression it left on me as
I rounded a spur, and looking up a valley saw, quite unexpectedly,
this real mountain monarch towering almost immediately above me, very
abrupt and upstanding, and with immense masses of ice accumulated at
its base. I have also seen Mount Everest from the north, and it is
remarkable that both these peaks, which are so inconspicuous from the
southern side, should stand out so boldly from the north. K2 is not
so massive a mountain as Kinchinjunga and Nanga Parbat. It is rather
the bold culminating peak of a range.
The height of K2 is put down as 28,250 feet above the sea. How can we
be certain that this is right? The reply is that we cannot. The
observations have been made from immense distances, and are
consequently liable to certain errors which have been discussed by
Colonel Burrard.
It was observed from the following stations:--
Station. Height above Sea. Distance.
Shangruti 17,531 78.9
Biachuthusa 16,746 99.0
Marshala 16,906 58.6
Kastor 15,983 66.0
Thurigo 17,246 61.8
Haramokh 16,001 136.5
Kanuri-Nar 15,437 114.3
Barwai 16,304 88
Thalanka 16,830 74.7
And apart from the errors due to distance there are others which must
always be counted on. As he remarks, no telescope is absolutely
perfect; no level is entirely trustworthy; no instrumental graduations
are strictly exact; and no observer is infallible. Then, again, the
peaks themselves do not always have clearly defined summits, though
K2 happens in this respect to be a model for observation, and as it
has been observed on several occasions from different stations, the
errors in the mean value of height due to faults of observation are,
probably, in Colonel Burrard's opinion, less than ten feet. Another
source of error is the adoption of possibly erroneous altitudes
for the stations of observation. The altitude of K2 was observed from
Haramokh and other stations, but the altitude of Haramokh itself may
be a few feet wrong, and the altitude of K2 on this account may be
thirty feet in error. Another element of uncertainty in determining
the height of a peak is caused by the variation in the amount of snow
on its summit. There is clearly more snow on the summit of a peak in
winter than in summer, and in a hot, dry summer there may be less than
in a generally cloudy, snowy summer. A more complicated description of
error is introduced by the deviation of gravity from the normal in
great mountain ranges. The attraction of the great mass of the
Himalaya mountains and of Tibet pulls all liquids towards itself as
the moon attracts the ocean. The liquid in levels on the theodolites
with which observations of the peaks are made is similarly affected:
the plates to the theodolites in consequence cannot be exactly
adjusted, and when apparently truly levelled are in reality tilted
upwards towards the mountains. At Kurseong, near Darjiling, they would
be as much as 51" out of true level and at Mussouri about 37".
[Illustration: MOUNT HARAMOKH, FROM THE ERIN NULLAH]
But the most serious source of uncertainty in the measurement of the
altitude of a peak is the refraction of the atmosphere. A ray of light
from a peak to an observer's eye does not travel along a straight
line, but assumes a curved path concave to the earth. The ray enters
the observer's eye--I quote from Colonel Burrard--in a direction
tangential to the curve at that point, and this is the direction in
which the observer sees the peak. It makes the peak appear too high.
This refraction is greatest in the morning and evening, and least in
the middle of the day; it is different in summer from what it is in
winter. One of the great Himalayan peaks visible from the plains of
India would appear, from observations with a theodolite made to it
from the plains, to fall 500 feet between sunrise and the afternoon,
and to rise again 300 feet before sunset; and even in the afternoon,
when it would appear lowest, it would still be too high by perhaps 700
feet. This is obviously a very fruitful source of error, and the
difficulty of determining the error is increased by the fact that the
curvature of the ray varies with the rarefaction of the atmosphere. In
the higher altitude, when the rarefaction of the atmosphere increases,
the ray assumes a less curved path. All these possible sources of
error due to the rarefaction of the atmosphere have been most
carefully studied, but even now we must allow 10 to 30 feet as
possible error due to the rarefaction of the atmosphere.
[Illustration: A MOUNTAIN GLEN, BEFORE THE MELTING OF THE SNOWS]
Summarising the possible sources of error in fixing the height of K2
we may say the error may be from--
Errors of observation 20 ft.
Adoption of erroneous height for observing station 30 ft.
Variation of snow-level from the mean Unknown
Deviation of gravity Unknown
Atmospheric refraction 10 to 30 ft.
K2, as I have said, though on the borders of the Kashmir State, and
visible from the range which bounds the Kashmir valley, is not visible
from the valley itself. But Nanga Parbat can be seen from near
Baramula and from a few other parts of the valley, and is the most
striking object in the view from Gulmarg and other points of the
northward-facing slope of the Pir Panjal. It ranks eighth among the
mountains of the world, except K2 all the others being in the Nepal
Himalayas. The order of the mountains is:--
Feet.
Mount Everest 29,002
K2 28,250
Kinchinjunga 28,146
Makalu 27,790
T15 26,867
Dhaulagiri 26,795
XXX 26,658
Nanga Parbat 26,620
Being more accessible than the remote K2 the observations for its
height were made at much closer quarters, the nearest observation
point being 43 miles distant instead of 61 as in the case of K2. It
was observed in all from eleven different points, of which the most
remote was 133 miles. But until it had been measured by the Survey it
had been marked on maps as only 19,000 feet.
Colonel Burrard says it is "the most isolated and perhaps the most
imposing of all the peaks of Asia." It certainly is remarkable for its
isolation. With the exception of subordinate pinnacles rising from its
own buttresses, no peak within 60 miles of it attains an altitude of
more than 17,000 feet. Throughout a circle of 120 miles' diameter
Nanga Parbat surpasses all other summits by more than 9000 feet. And
its upper 5000 feet are precipitous. It stands out therefore in
solitary nobleness, and it can be seen on its northern side rising
23,000 feet from the Indus, there only 3500 above the sea. But whether
it is of all mountains the really most imposing it is not easy to
say, and personally I almost cling to Kinchinjunga. Rakaposhi in
Hunza, which is 25,550 feet in altitude, and can be seen rising sheer
up from the Hunza River 5000 feet above sea-level, is also wonderfully
impressive. There is a peak on the Pamirs 25,146 feet high which can
be seen rising abruptly from the plains of Turkestan, which are but a
little over 3000 feet; and there is the Musherbrum Peak near K2 which
is 25,660 feet--all of which I have seen, and which I find it hard to
place exactly in order of relative impressiveness. But if Nanga Parbat
cannot be placed in unquestionably the first position, it will in most
men's estimation approximate to it, and must in any case be reckoned
among the few most striking sights in the world.
* * * * *
Of what are these great peaks built up? No one has yet ascended their
summits, and as Mr. Hayden points out, the geologist has to do his
work at close quarters, and not like the surveyor from a distance. So
the composition of the highest peaks is rarely known in any detail,
though the general character of the rocks can be ascertained with a
fair approximation to certainty, from observation of material on the
flanks, and from a distant view of the weathering character and
apparent structure of the peaks themselves. From such observations it
has been found that almost all the peaks of 25,000 feet or more in
height are composed of granite, gneiss, and associated crystalline
rocks. It had long be supposed that some of the granites found on the
flanks of the great peaks which presented a foliated appearance were
of sedimentary origin, and had therefore been once deposited beneath
the sea. But their truly intrusive nature was recognised by the late
Lieutenant-General M'Mahon, who proved conclusively that the great
central gneissose rock of the Himalayas was in reality a granite
crushed and foliated by pressure. It may certainly be taken that both
K2 and Nanga Parbat are composed of granite, and have been intruded
or compressed upward from beneath the earth's crust.
Mr. Hayden further concludes that the exceptional height of these
great peaks is due to their being composed of granite, for either the
superior power of the granite to resist the atmospheric forces tending
to their degradation has caused them to stand as isolated masses above
surrounding areas of more easily eroded rocks, or they are areas of
special elevation.
[Illustration: LAKE SHISHA NAG, LIDAR VALLEY]
Now it is found that the axes of the great mountain ranges are also
composed of granite, and it seems probable that special elevating
forces have been at work to raise certain parts of their ranges above
the general level of the whole. And when once such elevation has been
brought about, the disparity between the higher peaks and the
intervening less elevated area would undoubtedly be intensified by the
destructive forces at work, for the mantle of snow and ice, while
slowly carrying on its work of abrasion, would serve as a protection
for the peaks against the disintegrating forces of the atmosphere,
while the lower unprotected areas would be more rapidly eroded.
So argues Mr. Hayden, who further demonstrates that when, during the
development of the Himalayas as a mighty mountain range vast masses of
granite welled up from below, forcing their way through and lifting up
the pre-existing rocks superimposed upon them, it is probable that,
owing to dissimilarity of composition and to structural weaknesses in
certain portions of the earth's crust, movement was more intense at
some points than at others, and that the granite was raised into more
or less dome-like masses standing above the general level of the
growing range, and subsequently carved by the process of erosion into
clusters of peaks.
The great peaks being thus of intrusive origin, the question naturally
arises whether they are _still_ being intruded upward; whether those
great forces at work beneath the surface of the earth are still
impelling them upward; and if so, whether they are being forced upward
more rapidly than the atmospheric forces are wearing down their
summits. From the geological standpoint Mr. Hayden says that it is not
at present possible to say whether the elevatory movement is still in
progress, but he adds that many phenomena observable in the Himalayas
lead us to infer that local elevation has until quite recently been
operative, and the numerous earthquakes still occurring with such
frequency and violence forcibly remind us that the Himalayas have by
no means reached a period of even comparative rest. The surveyor can
as yet give us no more certain answer. Colonel Burrard says the
original observations of the great peaks made between 1850 and 1860
were not sufficiently prolonged at any one station to enable us to
rely with certainty on the values of the height then obtained. When a
slow variation in height has to be determined it is better to carry
out a long series of observations from one station only, rather
than to take a number of observations from different stations, as is
necessary and as was done in determining the absolute height of peaks.
But in 1905 the Survey of India commenced a series of observations
from one station, and it is proposed to observe the heights of several
peaks for some years and at different seasons in each year. Then if a
reliable series of results be once obtained, a similar set of
observations can be repeated at a subsequent date, and any actual
change of height that has occurred in the interval may be discovered.
[Illustration: DISTANT VIEW OF NANGA PARBAT FROM THE KAMRI PASS]
Until these observations are made we cannot say for certain whether
the great peaks are still rising.
THE MOUNTAIN RANGES
So far we have considered the isolated peaks rather than the ranges
themselves. It remains to study these latter. All of them are
popularly regarded as forming part of the "Himalayas." But
Himalaya--pronounced with the stress on the second syllable--simply
means the "abode of snow"; and geographers have had to define the
separate ranges into which this great Himalayan region is divided. The
name of the Great Himalaya is consequently reserved for the supreme
range which extends from the western borders of China, carries the
great peaks, Mount Everest and Kinchinjunga, and runs through Kumaon
and Kashmir to Nanga Parbat, and possibly farther. This is the
culminating range of the earth's surface. The range to the north, on
which stands K2 and some satellite peaks of 26,000 feet, is neither
so long nor has it quite such lofty peaks. It is known as the
Karakoram range because a pass called the Karakoram Pass crosses it.
But a pass called the Mustagh also crosses it, and Mustagh means Ice
Mountain, whereas Karakoram means black gravel. Mustagh, therefore,
appears to me a much more appropriate name for this gigantic range of
ice-clad mountains. It so happens that I am the only European who has
crossed both passes. Each of them is close upon 19,000 feet in
altitude, but the Karakoram, very curiously, has in summer no snow
upon it, and the route leads over black gravel. It is a better known
pass than the former, and, consequently, the name of black gravel got
the start, and now this superb range of mountains is doomed for all
time to suffer from this absurd nomenclature.
[Illustration: MOUNT KOLAHOI, LIDAR VALLEY]
The range, however, lies far at the back of Kashmir, and it is
not so much with it as with the true Himalaya range that we are here
concerned. The mountain ranges which encircle the valley of Kashmir
are the final prolongations of that mighty range which runs from the
borders of Burma thirteen hundred miles away, and bifurcating at the
Sutlej River, forms with its subsidiary spurs the cradle in which the
Kashmir valley is set.
The southern branch of this bifurcation is known as the Pir Panjal
range, and is that which bounds Kashmir on the south. It is the
largest of all the lesser Himalayan ranges, and even at its extremity
in Kashmir it carries many peaks exceeding 15,000 feet; the Tatakuti
Peak, 30 miles south-west of Srinagar, 15,524 feet in height, being
the most conspicuous.
The northern branch of the bifurcation at the Sutlej River of the
great Himalayan range culminates in the Nun Kun peaks (23,410 feet and
23,250 feet), which stand conspicuously 3000 feet above the general
crest of the range, and can be seen on clear days from Gulmarg. From
near them, not far from the Zoji-la, an oblique range branches from
the great Himalayan range, and constitutes the parting between the
Jhelum River and the Kishenganga, the latter river draining the angle
formed by the bifurcation. The height of this North Kashmir range, as
Colonel Burrard calls it, is greatest near the point of bifurcation,
one of its peaks, Haramokh (16,890 feet), reaching above the
snow-line, and being the most conspicuous object which meets the eye
of a traveller entering the valley from the south. Farther westward
the range ramifies and declines.
The main line of the great range of the Himalayas has meanwhile
continued from the remarkable depression at the Zoji Pass along by the
Kamri Pass, to the immense mountain buttress of Nanga Parbat which,
overhanging the deep defiles of the Indus, seems to form a fitting end
to the mighty range which started on the confines of China. But there
are great mountains beyond the Indus also, and whether these form a
continuation of the great Himalayan axis which the river Indus would
in that case have merely cut through in the gorges below Nanga Parbat,
or whether the mountains west of the Indus are part of a separate
range, we shall not know till these latter have been geologically
examined.