We were already getting to lower elevations—the village of Go being
only 10,577 feet. We had to the west of us the great Nanda Devi, the
highest mountain in the British Empire, 25,660 feet; three pyramidal
peaks, with rock exposed in vertical streaks right up to the summit.
The central peak is Nanda Devi itself, the next highest peak being
24,379 feet, according to Trigonometrical Survey measurements.
There are several extensive glaciers to the east watershed of Nanda
Devi, mostly extending from west to east, with a slight tendency
northwards, but on the western side of the watershed Nanda Devi is
practically surrounded by an immense glacier with numerous
ramifications.
There are a great many legends regarding this imposing mountain, the
principal one stating that on the shores of a lake which is supposed to
exist on the very summit of Nanda is the abode and present residence of
Vishnu. The natives state that smoke is often seen rising from the
summit, which, they say, is caused by the god’s kitchen. Some
considerable distance below the summit, as high as one can possibly
climb, a festival is held every twelve years, but so difficult is the
ascent that many pilgrims perish, and only very few can reach the
elevated spot. Those few are held in great respect by their
fellow-countrymen.
Nearer us than Nanda Devi and also to our west were two other giants
(21,520 feet and 22,660 feet), showing characteristics very similar to
Nanda Devi. The former had an immense glacier, the Naulphu, on its
eastern side, with huge masses of clear ice of resplendent beauty when
the sun shone on them. The ice terraces were fairly regular, much more
so than in most other glaciers I had inspected. At the bottom of the
glacier, in the centre, was an immense wall of ice, horse-shoe-shaped,
a most impressive sight as it stood out in brilliant relief above the
dark-brown débris of the terminal moraine. The Neo-lak-chan River has
its birth from this glacier.
There were three or four picturesque little Shoka hamlets along the
river—especially near the spot where the Lissar River, fed by a number
of glaciers to the north-west, meets the Dholi River, which we have
followed from the Nui Glacier to the north. The village of Dukti was
quite attractive, with houses painted white, slate roofs, and strongly
built store-houses.
The trail mostly followed the course of the Dholi River, and was often
boxed in between high vertical cliffs of grey rock, along which the
road was constructed on crowbars. Between the villages of Bahling
(10,230 feet) and Nagling (9876 feet—h.a.) was another small but
interesting glacier of dirty grey ice mixed with mud and débris, and a
central and two side dunes. A stream rose from it and became a
tributary of the Dholi.
From Nagling to Shobla there is a fair road, and from Sela, about
half-way between the two above villages, it is possible to get over the
mountains to Kuti. The way, however, is extremely bad, and over a good
deal of snow. The journey occupies from three to four days.
From Nagling southward the road was almost an identical replica of the
Nerpani—the waterless trail—I had followed on the way out. In many
places it was supported on crowbars and we had a drop under us of
several hundred feet.
As far as Go from Nui the trail was on the east side of the Dholi
River; from Go it was on the west side. Some two miles from Shobla one
got a charming bird’s-eye view of this village, with the river like a
ribbon of silver winding its way between high mountains covered with
luxuriant vegetation. Perhaps the beautiful deep green of the trees
affected us all the more because we had been so long among barren,
desolate, dreary landscapes, and among snow and ice; so that it was a
regular feast for our eyes to see some signs of vegetation again.
The Darma Shokas, like those of Bias, only inhabit these villages
during the summer months, retiring to warmer regions farther south
(mainly to Dharchula) for the winter. Hence, a great many temporary
sheds can be seen in all their villages, wherein are stored their
articles of furniture, mats, and clothing, which they do not require
when busy trading in the summer months. In some spots the mountain side
was simply dotted with these temporary store-houses.
As we were going towards Khela, where we should complete the circle of
our journey and meet another contingent of my men who had proceeded
there direct from Nepal, we had no further adventures worth mentioning,
except one.
We came to a strange cave, only a few yards deep and some 30 feet high,
in the side of a hill. The natives had told me that no animal could
enter it without dying, and, in fact, when we peeped into it we saw a
number of skeletons of dogs, other small mammals, and birds. On
stooping down, one of my men and I were immediately seized with
giddiness and a fainting sensation, and had we not been quick enough in
jumping out into the open air we might have possibly collapsed, owing
to the noxious gases which emanated from the ground in the cave. A
peculiar sulphurous odour was noticeable, even some little distance
from the cave. It is in its effects very much like the “Grotta dei
Cani” of Naples, only this one seemed more deadly. The gases seem to
hang low upon the ground, not more than about 3 or 3½ feet, although on
entering the cave one felt at once a stifling sensation, even when
standing upright. We two who had stooped suffered from a severe
headache for some hours.
Before we leave the Darma district, a word on the history of the
natives may be of interest. The Darma Shokas are in many ways—and in
facial appearance—very different from the Shokas of Chaudas and Bias,
and, although their origin is undoubtedly Mongolian from Tibet, their
traditions vary very considerably from those of the other Shokas.
According to some authorities the Darma Shokas are the descendants of a
horde of Mughals who were endeavouring to take possession of Kumaon
during the time that Timur was occupying a portion of that country.
This horde, which is supposed to have entered Kumaon from the plains
and not over the mountains, was eventually reduced to very small
numbers, and driven to the mountains, where they finally settled,
practically undisturbed, in the Darma Valley. Darma, like the other
Shoka districts (Bias and Chaudas), formerly belonged to Tibet, and it
was not till the Gorkhali administration that Darma, with Bias and
Chaudas, was annexed to Kumaon.
Even now, as we have already seen, the Tibetans exercise a serious
influence upon those natives, the Shokas of all these districts,
however willing to be faithful and loyal to us, having never received
protection nor the meagrest justice from the British Government.
Personally, I do not quite share the opinion that the Darma Shokas came
from the plains or from Tibet by way of the plains. They resemble quite
closely the Kam-par or Tibetans from Kam, with whom they are to this
day in constant communication. In fact, it is chiefly with the Kam-par
tribe and Gyanema that the Darma Shokas do all their trading. The more
massive features and stronger facial characteristics of the Darma
Shokas have been acquired, I think, more through their frequent
intercourses with Jumlis and other tribes of Western Nepal, which gives
them a wilder appearance than the more purely Mongolian stolid types,
such as the Bias Shokas.
In many ways the Darma Shokas do not possess the refined and
gentlemanly feelings so strikingly common among Bias Shokas, nor are
they quite so honest and reliable. But they, too, possess good hearts,
are somewhat impetuous and excitable, and occasionally addicted to
murder.