Leave Iskardo in the direction of Kashmir -- First march
through snow to Turgu -- Lacustrine clay -- it extends into
narrow valleys beyond Nar -- Gol -- Junction of Indus and
Shayuk -- Parkuta -- Tolti -- Kartash -- Extensive lacustrine
deposits -- Tarkata -- Road turns up the Dras river -- Ulding
Thung -- Fall of snow -- Hardas -- Karbu -- Continued snow --
Dras -- Find pass in front shut by deep snow -- Obliged to
return to Iskardo -- Rafts and rope-bridges on Indus --
_Elæagnus_ and Apricot apparently wild -- Winter at Iskardo.
[Sidenote: UPPER PART OF ISKARDO PLAIN.
_December, 1847._]
On the 2nd of December I left Iskardo, in the direction of Kashmir, by
way of Dras, all other routes being shut with snow. My first march was
to Turgu, seven miles. The ground was all the way covered with snow
which had fallen during the night, but it thawed a good deal during
the day, making the journey rather unpleasant. The road lay along the
south bank of the river, at first over the level platform of
lacustrine clay, among large boulders, which were scattered over its
surface, but soon descending by a narrow and steep footpath, on the
face of the clayey cliff, to the level of the river, to cross a deep
bay, from which the clay formation has been entirely removed, to a
large village three miles from Iskardo, through the cultivation of
which the road ascended gradually, and proceeded on the barren stony
slopes behind. About five miles from Iskardo, a spur, from the
mountain range on the south, which abuts in a scarped cliff upon the
river, has been taken advantage of by the inhabitants to build a small
gateway, through which the road is made to run. The extreme steepness
of the mountain mass which lies to the south and east, makes it
scarcely possible to approach Iskardo along the south bank of the
river from these directions, without passing through this gateway,
and, therefore, a small party of soldiers is kept on this rocky pass
by the Sikh rulers of the country. A species of _Daphne_ was very
common on the rocky hills about this pass, apparently an evergreen, as
it was in full leaf in the midst of the snow. From the higher parts of
the road, and from the rocky pass which overhangs the river, there is
an extensive view over the barren sandy waste on the north bank of the
river. The lacustrine clay is, at this end of the valley, very thick
and but little excavated, forming cliffs which rise close to the
river, which has, as it were, worn for itself a narrow channel in the
clay formation. The banks or cliffs are of very different heights, and
many of them consist of alluvial gravel and boulders, overlying and
quite obscuring the clays. Behind Turgu, and in many places on the
last part of the march, there are great masses of angular fragments of
rock piled into a steeply sloping mass, as if they had fallen from the
mountains behind, but so mixed with smaller fragments and with gravel,
that it seems probable that they were accumulated under water.
[Sidenote: WATERWORN ROCKS.
_December, 1847._]
The next day's march, from Turgu to Gol, round the great bend of the
Indus, was entirely barren. On the western side of the curve several
rocky spurs were crossed, but after the road turns to the south it
runs generally on the surface of very elevated platforms of coarse
alluvial debris, covered in many places with enormous boulders, partly
derived, in all probability, from the fall of masses of rock from the
cliffs above, but in more than one place so curiously arranged, at the
apertures of lateral ravines, as to be, I think, almost certainly of
glacial origin. Many of the large boulders which occurred in the
alluvium were observed to be much waterworn, spherical cavities being
worn out in them. Similar waterworn rocks were also seen _in situ_ at
great heights above the river, in places to which no water has at
present access, and where it is difficult to understand in what way
the effect was produced. Behind the alluvial platforms, which are
generally one or two hundred feet above the level of the river, the
mountains rise precipitously, in cliffs of granite, which has now
replaced the slate rocks of Iskardo.
[Sidenote: EXTENT OF LACUSTRINE CLAY.
_December, 1847._]
At the point where the river changes its direction from north to
south-west, the mountains on the southern bank advance quite to the
river, and on the north side also they approach very near. It would
therefore, at first sight, appear that the lake, in which the clay
formation of Iskardo has been deposited, had here terminated to the
eastward, no clay being seen in the narrow ravine above Nar, or near
the river anywhere between Nar and Gol. I had at first no doubt that I
had reached the eastern extremity of the lake; but some time after
passing the most northerly point of the ravine I observed a patch of
very fine cream-coloured clay, quite similar to the finest portions of
the Iskardo formation, clinging in a remarkable position on the flank
of a very steep rocky cliff, not less than 1000 or 1200 feet above the
river. Several other patches came into sight soon after, all high up
on the mountain-sides; one above the village of Golochu, and others at
intervals all the way to the junction of the Indus and Shayuk. I
cannot, therefore, doubt that the lake in which the clay beds of Kiris
were deposited, was the same as that which occupied the Iskardo basin;
nor does it seem easy to fix its exact boundaries. The great height of
the patches of clay, in the narrow channel above Nar, show that the
depth of the lake had been very considerable; and if we assume a depth
of 1500 feet, which seems necessary, and at the same time admit the
arrangement of the ancient rocks to have been the same as at present,
we must either suppose some great barrier to have existed in the
narrow passage below Khapalu, or must admit that the Khapalu lake was
also continuous with that of Iskardo. I did not, however, observe any
beds of fine clay higher up than Kuru, in the narrow part of the
ravine of the Shayuk, which would warrant the drawing such a
conclusion; although vast masses of alluvium certainly abound there,
piled at great heights above the river. Is it possible that these may
at one time have been continuous, and have blocked up the whole
valley, and that the portions now seen capping ridges, whose origin is
otherwise inexplicable, are the last remnants of a continuous mass
which occupied the whole interspace? and if so, to what are we to
ascribe the deposition of such an enormous mass of alluvium-like
accumulation?
[Sidenote: JUNCTION OF INDUS WITH SHAYUK.
_December, 1847._]
To the eastward of the village of Gol the valley of the Indus again
becomes a little wider, an open sandy plain extending round the
junction of the two rivers. The cultivation round Gol is on a high
platform of alluvium; but the road descends, soon after leaving the
village, nearly to the level of the river, and continues over the low
ground, skirting the mountains of the southern bank, till it reaches
the junction of the two rivers, where it turns abruptly to the south,
ascending the left bank of the Indus, which runs nearly due north in a
narrow rocky ravine. A bluff projecting ridge of granite, sixty or
eighty feet high, polished on the surface by aqueous action, and of a
brilliantly brown-black colour, so that the nature of the rock is only
discoverable by breaking it, here advances close to the river, and is
crossed by a steep sinuous path, eked out by flights of steps, with
wooden supports, where it would otherwise be impracticable. The Indus
is here very narrow and deep, and runs with an extremely rapid
current. The path, after crossing this ridge, again descends to the
level of the river. Even in this narrow ravine I was surprised to find
the fine cream-coloured clay of the lacustrine formation, similar to
many of the beds of the same deposit round Iskardo. It was here quite
on a level with the river.
[Sidenote: INDUS VALLEY.
_December, 1847._]
The mountains rise on both sides of the Indus very abruptly, being
almost always precipitous. From the narrowness of the valley the great
elevation of these is not seen, and the lesser height of those on the
right bank of the Indus, which form the termination of the chain
separating that river from the Shayuk, is not brought prominently to
notice. For more than two miles, the ravine continues very narrow,
and several steep spurs are crossed. It then becomes gradually a
little wider, narrow platforms of conglomerate skirting the stream,
and changes its direction from nearly due south to south-east. The
right bank is stony and unproductive the whole way, but on the left
there is one small village, three miles from the junction of the
Shayuk, and thence after three miles of desert, a succession of small
villages continuing with little intermission on the surface of
alluvial platforms as far as Parkuta, at which I encamped. In one of
the villages a good many small juniper-trees were seen.
The lacustrine clay formation, though not continuous throughout the
whole of this day's march, may be traced in patches, with so little
interval that its former continuity cannot be doubted. The spots in
which I observed its presence in the narrow ravine were all close to
the river, the low level of the road not permitting an extended view
of the higher slopes of the mountains. Further up, however, patches
were in my subsequent April journey seen at considerable elevations,
but in December the slopes were covered with snow to within a thousand
feet of the river. In several places the clay formed cliffs, which
rose perpendicularly from the Indus, and could be seen to be covered
with modern alluvium deposited during floods, just as the ancient
rocks are in other places. The clay appeared everywhere extremely
fine, without any intermixture of sand or micaceous grains. I saw no
appearance of fossils, which I think never occur in the very fine
cream-coloured clays, but seem always to accompany more sandy, or at
least gritty varieties, as if the influx of a small stream, and
probably the proximity of land, were requisite to the existence of
testaceous mollusks; while the central part of the lake, in which the
very finest clays were deposited, was quite devoid of them.
[Sidenote: PARKUTA.
_December, 1847._]
Parkuta is a very large village, three or four hundred feet above the
river, occupying both slopes of a deep ravine cut in the thick mass of
alluvium by a large stream from the south. The alluvium is scarped
towards the Indus, and a low granitic hill, the cause of its
accumulation to such a height, just rises above the general surface of
the platform. This is covered with a mass of buildings, formerly the
residence of the Rajah of Parkuta, a branch of the same family who
ruled at Iskardo, and dependent on them while that state remained
independent; he has, however, been removed by the Sikhs, and his house
is at present untenanted. The village is large, with extensive
cultivation, and many fine fruit-trees. Vines are plentiful, climbing
over the poplars.
[Sidenote: TOLTI.
_December, 1847._]
On the 5th of December my day's journey carried me to Tolti, a
distance of twelve miles. The valley continued narrow, and the
mountains rose precipitously on both sides. On the early part of the
march there were many villages, and much cultivation on the left bank.
The village of Urdi, three or four miles from Parkuta, seemed very
populous, and extended for a great distance along the river. It was
remarkable for an aqueduct supported on pillars of stone, which
crossed a ravine immediately above the village. At this spot the
cultivation terminated abruptly, and the alluvial platform was for
more than a mile, during which space it gradually narrowed by the
encroachments of the cliffs, covered with an accumulation of very
large granitic boulders, which seemed to have fallen on it from the
mountains behind.
[Sidenote: KARTASH.
_December, 1847._]
As I approached Tolti the valley of the Indus became much more rugged
and narrow. A long gentle ascent to a ridge more than a thousand feet
above the bottom of the valley, but which dipped abruptly to the
river, occupied the latter part of the march. At Tolti the belt of
cultivation is very narrow, just skirting the river on very narrow
platforms of alluvium, which are irrigated by artificial canals
carried with considerable labour between the fields and the mountains.
Tolti was the most gloomy village which I had yet seen, the
precipitous mountains forming a circle all round it, and almost
shutting out the light of day. The bird's-nest fort in the ravine
behind the village, perched on the top of a rock (in a most untenable
position, though probably well suited for defence against sudden
attack), accorded well with the gloomy aspect of the place. The
temperature was here considerably lower than in the more open valley,
as large patches of snow lay still unmelted in the fields, though four
days had elapsed since its fall. At Gol, two days before, it had quite
melted. On a bank a mile or two below Tolti, I saw a few trees of
_Populus Euphratica_, just recognizable by a few withered leaves which
still remained on the tree.
From Tolti, I made three marches to Tarkata, a small village on the
Indus, six miles below its junction with the river of Dras. The
general aspect of the valley of the Indus was but little changed in
this distance, notwithstanding a very long and remarkable bend of the
river above Kartash, in which its direction is to the eastward of
north. From Tolti, the easiest road in an upward direction crosses the
Indus, and proceeds on the right bank; but to avoid the labour of
crossing, I suppose, my guides conducted me by a road on the left
bank. On this side, the lower part of the valley is so steep as to be
impracticable; and I found it necessary to ascend at once from Tolti
on a stony ridge, almost directly away from the river. The ascent was
long and fatiguing; the ridge being capped, in the same manner as that
above Kunes on the Shayuk, with masses of alluvium. The ridge was more
than 1500 feet above the river, and its upper part was covered with
snow, through which the path lay for four or five miles, after which
it descended very abruptly to the river, which had been in sight
almost all the way, generally running among precipitous rocks, but
with a few villages scattered at intervals on the northern bank. After
regaining the bank of the river, the road was for five or six miles
nearly level, passing opposite the village of Kartash, with a fort on
a hill. Here still resides the Rajah Ali Sher Khan, the most
intelligent of the princes of Balti; though now past the prime of
life, he still retains the intelligence and kind hospitality for which
he is so deservedly praised by Vigne.
[Sidenote: INDUS VALLEY.
_December, 1847._]
Kartash being situated at the northern or lower end of the great bend
of the Indus, and in an extremely narrow part of the ravine, is a most
sombre-looking place. It is possible, however, that in summer, when
the villages are green with cultivation and fruit-trees, the
appearance of this and other places may be less gloomy, and that, from
having only seen this part of Tibet in the depth of winter, I may be
disposed to regard it in too unfavourable a point of view. The abrupt
and precipitous rise of the mountains on all sides must undoubtedly
tend strongly to modify the summer temperature, which, from the want
of rain, and the reflection from masses of bare rock, would otherwise
be oppressive. The fort seems to have some good buildings, and to be
kept in excellent order, and the village looked extensive and
prosperous.
All along the narrow ravine, from Tolti nearly as far as Tarkata,
deposits of alluvium were very extensively developed, not only in the
valley of the river, but at considerable heights on the ridges. There
was, however, I believe, none of the lacustrine clay, as
contradistinguished from the coarser alluvium. I speak here with
considerable hesitation, as I find with regret that I have not in my
notes attended with sufficient care to the distinction between the
two, not having at the time sufficiently adverted to their probably
different origin. I am now disposed to think that in the narrow ravine
above Tolti was situated the barrier which bounded on the east the
lake basin of Iskardo, a vast inland sea, which must have extended
thence in a north-westerly direction as far as Rondu. This barrier, if
my supposition be correct, must have consisted of a mass of coarse
drift or alluvium, entirely blocking up the narrow ravine to a height
of three thousand feet or more above the present level of the Indus.
The mountains all along this ravine are extremely elevated, the peaks
above Kartash (from which a pass leads to Khapalu on the Shayuk)
being, I should think, not less than 18,000 feet. The bareness and
desolation of their sides exceeded anything I had seen since leaving
Iskardo, and quite equalled the most rugged parts of Tibet which I had
yet visited. They consisted of large masses of rock, split and
fractured in every direction, often very precipitous, without a
vestige of soil, and with scarcely the slightest traces of vegetation.
Immense tracts, both along the river and on the slopes of the ravines
descending from the mountains, were covered with boulders or with
angular fragments of rock, strewed irregularly on the surface, or
piled in masses one on another. Granite formed the great mass of the
mountains, mixed with stratified rocks, which were always highly
metamorphic, but extremely variable in appearance, sometimes, though
rarely, having the appearance of ordinary gneiss. A singular
porphyritic rock appeared (as boulders) along the river in one place
only.
About two miles west of Tarkata, the Indus resumes its more usual
direction, and, at the same time, its valley becomes somewhat more
open, the mountains, without any diminution of elevation, receding
considerably from the river. Their lower slopes present a very
different aspect from those in other parts of the Indus, being
composed not of primitive rock, but of a soft and almost incoherent
sandstone, alternating irregularly and without any definite order with
boulder conglomerate, and fine clay. These beds, which are very
extensively developed on both sides of the river, around the village
of Tarkata, for some distance in both directions, attain a thickness
of at least six or seven hundred feet. They are, however, very
irregular, forming a succession of ridges separated by deep ravines or
gullies, on the sides of which fine sections of the strata are
generally exposed, showing them to be uniformly horizontal, and to
consist of a great many alternations of sand, clay, and drift. Above
Tarkata, very fine clays were abundant.
[Sidenote: SOFT SANDSTONE ROCKS.
_December, 1847._]
The sandstone, of which a greater part of these curious deposits
consists, is formed principally of coarse grains of quartz, which only
cohere very slightly, and easily crumble under pressure. It is quite
similar in appearance to the sandstone which occurs on the summit of
the rock of Iskardo, differing only in being very much more
extensively developed than that is, and in being associated and
alternating with the very fine clays resembling those which occupy the
lower levels of the valley of Iskardo. The sandstones of Tarkata did
not appear to be fossiliferous, nor did I, in the slight examination I
was able to give them, discover any shells in the fine clays in this
neighbourhood. The general similarity, however, of these deposits to
the lacustrine clays of the Iskardo valley, makes it nearly certain
that their origin is similar, while the association of the sandstones
and the fine clays in the neighbourhood of Tarkata, renders it
probable that I am right in assuming the arenaceous beds of the summit
of the rock of Iskardo to be lacustrine.
[Sidenote: FLOATING ICE.
_December, 1847._]
Ever since leaving Iskardo, the weather had been very unsettled, but
no more snow had fallen. The sky had been pretty generally overcast
with light clouds, and during the day the wind had almost invariably
blown down the river, generally with great violence, and, especially
in the narrowest parts of the valley, in furious gusts, against which
it was most laborious to make any progress. The mornings had been
always frosty, but the temperature rose in the middle of the day
several degrees above 32°. On the 8th of December, a sudden increase
of cold seemed to take place, the temperature not rising above the
freezing-point. Large cakes of ice, which appeared early on the
morning of that day, floating down the river, indicated an evident
commencement of very severe weather in the upper part of its course,
and the descent of such masses of ice, in cakes of from one to ten
feet in diameter, tended very much to lower the temperature of all
parts of the river to which they extended. The elevation of Tarkata I
found to be 7800 feet above the sea.
The road from Iskardo to Kashmir leaves the valley of the Indus at the
junction of the river of Dras, and follows the course of that river
almost to its source. The lower part of the valley of Dras is a deep
and narrow rocky ravine, bordered by precipices of granite, which are
so steep that the bottom of the valley is quite inaccessible. In
passing from the Indus into the valley of Dras, the road crosses the
granitic spur which separates the two rivers, at an elevation of about
2000 feet above the Indus, ascending to this height very rapidly along
a steep spur, which recedes almost in a perpendicular direction from
that river. From the shoulder of this ridge, which was elevated
probably about 10,000 feet, the course of the Indus was visible for
some distance above the junction of the river of Dras. It appeared to
be hemmed in very closely by rocky mountain spurs. A good many patches
of fine lacustrine clay were in sight, on both banks.
[Sidenote: VALLEY OF DRAS.
_December, 1847._]
From the same ridge, the view up the Dras valley was very remarkable.
The river of that name, which formed many deep pools and was partially
frozen, ran at the bottom of a deep gorge. On the right bank opposite
to where I stood, a sheer precipice rose nearly to a level with my
eye. Between the ridge on which I stood and the next in succession up
the Dras valley, an open and shallow valley, everywhere strewed with
enormous blocks of granite, sloped gently till it approached the brink
of the almost perpendicular cliffs which overhang the Dras river.
Crossing this open valley, and the low spur beyond it, I encamped at a
small village called Ulding Thung, situated at the point of junction
of the Dras river, with a considerable tributary descending from the
west.
This little village occupies the gentle slope of a hill-side, but I
encamped at the lowest part of it, which was a small level plain
surrounded by a number of giant boulders, resting on the upper edge of
a very steep slope, and evidently, I think, of glacial origin. They
were quite angular, and not less than from twenty to thirty feet in
length.
On the slope of the hill above my encampment at Ulding, the lacustrine
clay formation again occurred in great quantity. It was a very fine
impalpable clay, without fossils, and was here (as is not uncommon
elsewhere) dug out by the inhabitants for the purpose of extracting
its salt, which is obtained in a state of brine by simply washing the
clay with water. The elevation of this clay formation was probably a
good deal more than 8500 feet, but not greater than that of many of
the hills and patches of similar deposit around Tarkata in the valley
of the Indus.
At daybreak on the morning of the 18th of December I found that
between three and four inches of snow had fallen during the night. It
had ceased snowing at that time; and during the day, which was stormy
and often very cloudy, no more fell. There was a good deal of thaw
during the day, and towards evening the snow, except in sheltered
spots, was nearly melted. My day's journey was about ten miles, to the
village of Hardas, on the left bank of the Dras river; passing about
two miles before the end of the march the river of Kargyl or Pashkyum,
a very large stream which descends from the south-east. During the
earlier part of this day, the road was extremely bad. It descended
from Ulding abruptly to the level of the Dras river, to cross at its
point of junction a large tributary whose source is in the eastern
slopes of Deotsu. A succession of steep ascents and descents followed
for four or five miles, throughout which distance the ravine through
which the river ran was narrow and precipitous and quite without
villages. Further up, the valley widened a little, the mountains rose
less steeply, and left narrow strips of level ground along the margin
of the stream.
[Sidenote: SNOW STORM.
_December, 1847._]
Very early on the morning of the 11th of December, it began again to
snow, and continued with little intermission throughout the day. I
marched ten miles to Karbu, crossing the river three miles above
Hardas, and keeping on the right bank during the remainder of the day.
I could see that the valley was wider than the day before, but the
incessant snow made the appearance of the country undistinguishable.
The margins of the stream were occasionally fringed with bushes of
poplar and willow. Karbu is a village high up a steep lateral valley,
with scattered groves of juniper on the sides of the hills above the
cultivation. By evening the depth of snow was about fifteen inches.
On the 12th of December, after marching five miles through a heavy
fall of snow to the village of Tashgang, crossing the river by a
wooden bridge close to the village, a violent storm of wind and
snow-drift, blowing directly down the valley, compelled me to halt for
the night. The snow-storm continued till about eight P.M., when the
weather cleared, and the night was clear and starlight. Next morning,
the weather continuing fine, I was able to proceed to Dras. The depth
of snow had increased to about two feet; and the labour of progressing
through this depth of untrodden snow was much increased by the
shortness of the steps of the porters, treading exactly after one
another, so as to form pits in the snow, not more than a foot apart,
and alternately on the right and left.
[Sidenote: DRAS.
_December, 1847._]
I reached the Sikh fort at Dras, which was distant eleven miles, about
two o'clock; the road was pretty level and the valley open, with low
hills on either hand. The depth of snow increased as I advanced, and
was three feet in the plain round the fort. Here I was greeted by the
most unwelcome tidings, that my advance so far was fruitless, the pass
in front being blocked up with snow. For this I was quite unprepared,
having been led to believe that the road to Kashmir in this direction
was always open, and no hint having been given me at Iskardo that my
delay there might in the least prevent my reaching Kashmir. The heavy
snow-fall of the last three or four days seemed to have been something
quite unusual; and it had accumulated, as I was told, on the pass to a
depth which quite precluded all possibility of a passage for many days
to come.
Notwithstanding all these assurances, I should certainly have tried to
advance at least as far as Maten, had I not found at Dras one of the
principal inhabitants of Kargyl, who had returned the day before from
that place, after attempting in the morning to advance towards the
pass, which is ten miles further on, and being stopped by finding the
snow ten and twelve feet deep, and quite soft. After the assurances of
this traveller, I should not have been justified in taking so many
porters across the pass, supposing them to have acceded to my wishes
to make the attempt; I therefore very reluctantly gave up the idea of
proceeding.
It then became a question what I should do. It might and would
probably be many weeks before the pass would be practicable for loaded
men. To have remained at Dras so long would have been impossible. The
demands of my party for fuel were found very difficult to supply, even
for a day, the faggots of brushwood, which alone are there available,
being soon consumed, and, therefore, unwillingly parted with; I
therefore resolved to return to Iskardo, and remain there till the
return of spring should enable me to resume my travels, and to visit
the district further down the Indus, before crossing into Kashmir.
[Sidenote: RETURN TOWARDS ISKARDO.
_December, 1847._]
My return journey, being from a severe to a milder climate, was
sufficiently agreeable. At first a succession of bright and clear days
reduced the temperature very much. The thermometer fell to zero in the
mornings, and the frost throughout the day was intense. I was no
longer able to inhabit my tent, which I had continued to occupy up to
the period of my arrival at Dras, where, in the Sikh fort, I found,
rather to my surprise, a room, with a fire-place and chimney, allotted
for my accommodation by the kindness of the commandant. In descending
again towards the Indus, I took shelter in the villages, occupying, if
possible, a cow-house in preference to one used by the inhabitants.
The houses are generally built of waterworn stones, without cement,
but plastered with mud outside and inside. The roofs are flat; the
rafters are unsawn trees or branches of poplar, covered with willow
twigs, over which is laid a thick coating of mud. A hole in the centre
of the roof serves for a chimney, the fire being made in the centre of
the floor. In some of the poorer villages the houses were less
elaborate, consisting merely of wattle-work of willow twigs, covered
with a thin coating of clay.
[Sidenote: FROZEN WATERFALLS.
_December, 1847._]
In the open plain below Dras I observed many withered stems of
_Prangos_, the celebrated Umbelliferous plant so much valued by the
inhabitants of Dras as a food for their sheep, still bearing ripe
seeds. Juniper, too, was common, even along the bank of the stream.
As I descended the river, I found that a very few days had made a
great change in the temperature. The river was everywhere hard frozen,
and all the little streams which ran down the mountain-sides were
coated with a thick shell of ice. More than once I saw a waterfall
with a covering, perhaps a yard in thickness, of clear blue ice, under
which the little streamlet could be distinctly seen. At Ulding, though
the cold was severe, I found the ground partially free of snow, so
that the amount of fall, at that distance from the central chain of
mountains, had been quite insignificant.
On the 19th of December, on which day I regained the valley of the
Indus, it was again snowing heavily, after an interval of exactly
seven days. The river was now entirely frozen over, and so solid, that
one of my servants, a native of India, losing his way in the
snow-storm, instead of turning to the left on arriving at the Indus,
walked across the river to a village on the right bank, without being
aware that he had quitted the proper road.
Instead of keeping the left bank of the river, as I had done in my
upward course, I crossed it on the ice about three or four miles above
the village of Kartash, or Karmang, as it is also called, and kept on
the north side till within a mile of Tolti. About two miles below
Kartash, there are a succession of rapids in the stream, which extend,
without much intermission, considerably more than a mile, and must
produce a very considerable change in the elevation of its bed. The
river was nowhere frozen between Kartash and Tolti, the stream being
too rapid to freeze readily. In crossing to the left bank I made use
of a raft of skins, which consisted of a light frame-work of willow
rods, six feet square, resting on about a dozen inflated sheep or goat
skins. This flimsy contrivance just floated on the water when loaded
with three or four people.
[Sidenote: ROPE BRIDGES.
_December, 1847._]
At Tolti and at Karmang are the only rope-bridges which I saw on the
Indus, above Iskardo. The cables used in their construction are here
made of willow twigs, twisted into a thick rope. Seven such ropes on
each side are combined to form the parallel lateral cables, about a
yard apart, from which the road way of the bridge is suspended. These
bridges are perfectly safe, though, from their open structure, rather
formidable to those who are not accustomed to use them. The principle
on which they are made is the same as one which is in use in all the
hill provinces of India, from the Khasya mountains and Butan, as far
west as the Indus; but the material differs with each particular
locality, cane being used in the most eastern parts, rope (often of
grass or _Eriophorum_) in the Western Himalaya; and in Tibet, where
even that material is not available, willow twigs are employed as a
substitute.
In many parts of the Indus valley, even in the most rugged and
desolate spots, I noticed, occasionally, trees of the _Elæagnus_ and
of apricot, growing in rocky places along the river, where it was very
evident that they had never been planted. The _Elæagnus_ is always
conspicuous, even in mid-winter, in consequence of the withered leaves
remaining attached to the tree instead of falling at the end of
autumn. Occasionally, no doubt, the occurrence of these trees was due
to the former existence of villages in the vicinity of the places in
which they were observed, but they also seemed sometimes to occur in
places where no cultivation could ever have existed. Their occurrence,
however, must, I think, be considered purely accidental: they were too
few in number to be regarded as really indigenous; nor is it
surprising that these trees, which are so extensively cultivated round
all the villages of Baltistan, and so universally used as food by the
inhabitants, should occasionally vegetate at a great distance from
their usual place of growth.
[Sidenote: WINTER AT ISKARDO.
_December, 1847._]
I reached Iskardo on the evening of the 25th of December, and
succeeded, without difficulty, in hiring a house sufficiently large to
accommodate all my party. As I remained stationary at this place for
two months, I was able to make some observations of the thermometer,
and to watch the state of the weather during the whole of that period.
The elevation of Iskardo above the level of the sea is about 7200
feet. Winter may be said to have commenced on the 28th of November, on
which day the first snow fell. From that date, falls of snow recurred
constantly at intervals, which varied from two or three days to a
week. The earlier falls were very slight, not more than an inch or two
in depth, but the quantity gradually increased, until each fall was
from four to six inches. The entire depth of the snow in the middle of
February, beyond which time the fresh falls were insignificant, was
from fifteen to eighteen inches.
After each fall of snow, the weather usually became bright and calm,
with a serene cloudless sky. The sun shone out brightly, and was
agreeably warm to the feel, while the temperature of the air rose
nearly to, or a little above, the freezing-point. In the earlier part
of the winter, the snow melted rapidly, and the ground in the open
valley was generally nearly free of it before the next fall. After the
beginning of January, however, the cold increased, and the snow lay
permanently, except on the most sunny slopes. The sun seemed to have
much less power, and little thaw took place except on rocks and beaten
paths. The diminution in the quantity of snow by evaporation was often
considerable.
The greatest cold which was registered at Iskardo was at daybreak on
the 8th of February, when Fahrenheit's thermometer stood at half a
degree above zero. The mean temperature at sunrise during the whole
winter was 19½°, and that at two P.M. 33¾°. The mean temperature
during the period from the 28th of December to the 31st of January was
27½°, and from the 1st to the 24th of February 25¾°. The increase of
cold was principally by the depression of the night temperature, the
mean highest temperature being within a fraction of a degree the same
during both periods.
On the first or second day of clear weather after a fall of snow, the
temperature in the morning was often very low, with abundant
hoar-frost, which, except at such times, was not seen at all. The
surface of the plain was covered with a dense fog, which remained till
nearly noon before the sun was able to dispel it. On the second or
third day the sky would become hazy, the sun being partly obscured by
a thin stratum of cloud at a great elevation. During the continuance
of this haze, the temperature was always more elevated than when the
sky was clear. The hazy weather was once or twice dissipated by
violent winds, without any fall of snow on the open plain; but more
generally it increased gradually, till the sky was completely and
densely overcast, and snow began again to fall, perhaps most
frequently during the night.
During the greater part of the winter the snow was invariably in
extremely minute grains. It was not till the latter part of February,
when spring was rapidly approaching, that large flakes fell. I more
than once observed the phenomenon of small quantities of extremely
fine-grained snow falling when the sky was quite clear, and the air at
the surface of the earth quite motionless. During clear weather very
little thaw took place, the cold produced by radiation appearing to
counteract the sun's action; at the same time the snow diminished
rapidly by evaporation, which was not the case when the sky was
overcast.
The fall of snow was evidently much less considerable in the open
plain than on the mountains round Iskardo. During the heavier falls,
the snow on the steep mountain slopes often slipped downwards. It was
but rarely that these avalanches were visible, but the noise of the
snow in motion was heard like distant thunder, often many times a day,
and the bare spots which it had left could be seen after the
snow-storm had ceased. When the weather was settled, the wind was in
general very gentle, and blew up the valley of the Indus; during
snow-storms it was usually violent, and very irregular in direction.
The storms came mostly from the south-west, a moisture-bringing upper
current of air from that direction being condensed by the dry and cold
north wind.
My collections had accumulated to such an extent, and got into such
confusion, during five months of almost incessant travelling, that I
was very glad to have an opportunity of devoting some time to their
arrangement, and found, without difficulty, occupation for all my time
during two months of rest. The snow was never so deep as to prevent me
from taking regular exercise, so that I was soon familiar with all the
roads in the neighbourhood of the town, and examined the cliffs of
clay in every direction in search of fossils, without discovering (as
I had some hopes of doing) any mammalian remains. The communication
with Le was open all winter; I was therefore able to correspond with
Captain Strachey, who, after examining the course of the Indus from
the Chinese boundary downwards, was spending the winter there. By his
assistance I succeeded in replenishing my store of tea and sugar, both
of which were exhausted. The sugar which I procured from Le was very
good, and the brick tea, though not superexcellent in quality, was, in
the absence of better, quite good enough for use. Other supplies I had
no difficulty in procuring at Iskardo, sheep and flour being abundant.
The wood supplied for fuel was almost entirely _Elæagnus_, no wild
timber occurring in the country.
The Thannadar of Iskardo, who is the deputy of Maharajah Gulab Singh
of Kashmir, is the governor of all Balti, but he rules by means of
native Mahommedan chiefs or rajahs. In some instances, where no
opposition was made to the Sikh invasion, the former ruler was
allowed to retain his position; in other cases a change was made. At
Iskardo, Mahommed Shah, the present Rajah, had been an exile in
Kashmir, from being on bad terms with his father. He is a feeble and
sickly young man, without the energy of his father, M. Vigne's host in
Iskardo. The inhabitants of Balti, though Tibetan in language and
appearance, are all Mahommedans, and differ from the more eastern
Tibetans of Le (who call themselves Bhotias, or inhabitants of Bhot)
by being taller and less stoutly made. Their language, I am told,
differs considerably from that of Le, but only as one dialect differs
from another.