Leave Iskardo for Rondu -- Insurrection in Gilgit -- Koardu --
Kamar -- Enter narrow part of Indus valley -- Difficult road --
Range of mountains south of Indus -- Description of Rondu --
Thawar -- Avalanches -- Alluvium -- Swing bridge -- Villages --
Juniper -- _Pinus excelsa_ -- Rocks -- Vegetation -- Return to
Iskardo -- Agriculture of Balti -- Game of Chaugan -- Chakor
hunting -- Shigar valley -- Journey towards Kashmir -- Dras
valley -- Karbu -- Dras fort -- Maten -- Cross pass into
Kashmir -- Baltal -- Valley of Sind river -- Sonamarg --
Gagangir -- Gond -- Gangan -- Ganderbal -- Enter main valley of
Kashmir -- Town of Kashmir -- Description of Kashmir --
Lacustrine formation -- Trap hills -- Lake -- Climate --
Vegetation.
It was not till the 25th of February that the approach of spring was
sufficiently decided to permit me to make a move with any chance of
fair weather. On that day I started from Iskardo, with the intention
of making eight or ten days' journey down the Indus in the direction
of Rondu. The district of Rondu may be understood to comprise the
whole of the narrow part of the Indus valley, from the western end of
the Iskardo plain to the great bend of that river, where it assumes a
southerly direction. It is only during the winter season that the
route along the valley of the Indus is much frequented, as it is quite
impracticable for horses, and so very bad even for travellers on foot,
that the road over the passes towards Hasora is always preferred in
summer. At the season of my journey I had no option, the passes being
still covered with heavy snow.
[Sidenote: KOARDU.
_February, 1848._]
Unfortunately for my objects, the inhabitants of Gilgit had since the
beginning of winter been in a state of open insurrection, and had
besieged the garrison placed by Gulab Singh in one of the forts of the
valley. Attempts had been made by the Thannadar of Iskardo to send a
force to their relief, but the garrison of that place was too weak to
enable him to detach more than a very small portion of it; and the
forced levies of Balti men, collected in all the districts of the
country, had evidently no desire to fight against the more active
inhabitants of Gilgit and the robber tribes of the higher valleys of
Hunza and Nagyr. Large parties of fifty and a hundred were continually
arriving during the winter at Iskardo, and were as soon as possible
despatched towards the disturbed country; but the greater number of
them, I was told, managed to desert, and to return to their villages,
or to hiding-places elsewhere, long before the detachment arrived at
the end of its journey.
Crossing the Indus in the ferry-boat, a little below the rock of
Iskardo, my road lay along the north bank of the river, through
extensive tracts of cultivation. There was much less snow on the
surface of the fields in the village of Koardu, the first through
which I passed on the north bank, than in the town of Iskardo, owing
to the more favourable exposure. The villagers were busy sprinkling a
thin layer of earth over the snow to hasten its melting. This village,
which is about five miles distant from Iskardo, is backed by very high
masses of clay conglomerate and clay, forming very irregular, often
precipitous banks, resting on the ancient rocks behind. From Iskardo
these beds are very conspicuous, but in the village itself only a very
small portion can be seen at a time.
[Sidenote: KAMAR.
_February, 1848._]
West of Koardu, a ridge of mica-slate, containing abundance of
garnets, advances close to the river, which here runs on the northern
side of the valley. The road up the valley skirts the base of this
projecting spur, and then passes over level platforms for about four
miles. The level tracts were still covered with snow, but in rocky
places, and on all slopes facing the south, the ground was quite bare.
Four miles from Koardu I passed the very large village of Kamar, the
fields rising in terraces one behind another on a steeply sloping
platform, which skirts the plain for nearly two miles. Behind the
village, the same system of conglomerate and clay-beds, as at Koardu,
rises in steep banks.
About a mile beyond Kamar, which is the last village on the north side
of the Iskardo plain, the valley of the Indus contracts very suddenly,
the mountains closing in upon the river. The beds of lacustrine clay
extend without any diminution to the end of the open valley, and are
covered, when close to the mountains, by numerous boulders of all
sizes, many of which are of great dimensions. The fine clay at the
termination of the open plain appears to underlie a great mass of
boulder conglomerate, which is continued into the narrow part of the
river valley.
[Sidenote: ENTRANCE OF RONDU.
_February, 1848._]
Where the river passes from the open plain into the narrow ravine, the
inclination of its bed seems increased, and the rapidity of its
motion becomes much greater. This result is quite in accordance with
what has been observed in the Nubra and Khapalu plains. Indeed, narrow
valleys are so generally steeply sloping, and wide valleys so
generally nearly level, that it can scarcely be doubted that the
inclination of the surface is in some way connected with the width or
amount of excavation of the valley.
For a mile or two beyond the end of the Iskardo plain, the mountains
are sufficiently far apart to allow of the interposition of a narrow
platform of conglomerate, over which the road runs. Soon, however,
even this disappears, and thenceforward, as far as I went, the Indus
runs through a narrow ravine of very uniform character. The mountains
on both sides of the river are extremely steep, and, so far as I could
judge at so early a season, almost uniformly rocky and precipitous. At
distant intervals a small platform of alluvium is interposed between
the cliffs and the river, but much more frequently precipices directly
overhang the stream, or steep bare rocks, only not absolutely
precipitous, rise from its margin. It is but seldom that the stony bed
of the river or the alluvial platforms overhanging it, afford a level
road for a few hundred yards at a time. In general the path
continually ascends and descends over each successive ridge; the
elevation to which it is required to ascend to find a practicable
passage, varying from a few hundred to several thousand feet above the
bottom of the valley. In at least eight or ten places between Iskardo
and Rondu, the path ascends or descends by means of ladders placed
against the face of a perpendicular wall of rock, or crosses fissures
in the cliffs by planks laid horizontally over them. This road is
therefore quite impracticable for beasts of burden or horses, and is
never used except in winter, when no other route is open to the
traveller.
[Sidenote: INDUS VALLEY.
_February, 1848._]
As the road lies altogether on the north or right bank of the Indus,
the elevation and appearance of the mountains on that side cannot well
be seen. This range separates the Indus valley from that of Shigar,
which is in no part of Rondu more than twenty-five miles distant, and
is crossed in several places by passes at the head of the larger
ravines. These passes being still blocked up with snow, I could not
cross them, nor ascertain their elevation, which is perhaps nowhere
less than fourteen or fifteen thousand feet, except at the very
eastern extremity of the ridge.
From the higher parts of the road, where it attained an elevation of
eight and nine thousand feet, the mountain ranges on the south of the
Indus could be well seen. They were covered with snow from base to
summit, and in general rose so very abruptly, that the nearer spurs
completely concealed from view the main range, except when a more open
valley than usual permitted the view to extend backwards. Occasionally
very lofty peaks were seen, which appeared to attain a height of at
least eighteen or twenty thousand feet; but, as the whole landscape
was covered with snow, distances could not be estimated with any
accuracy. As the ridge to the south of the Indus keeps very close to
the river, it is probable that the highest summits seen in that
direction were situated beyond the valley of Hasora.
[Sidenote: VILLAGES OF RONDU.
_February, 1848._]
The villages of Rondu are not numerous, and are of very small extent;
still every available spot seems to be occupied by a small patch of
cultivation. The platforms are generally high above the river. In the
lower part of the district, where the lateral ravines are of greater
length, they open out above the very steep slope, by which they
debouche into the Indus, into gently sloping open valleys. The
villages of Thawar and Murdu, being situated in these open valleys,
are much more extensive than any of those close to the Indus. The fort
of Rondu is on the left bank of the river, on a platform perhaps two
hundred feet above its level, nearly opposite the end of the Thawar
valley, and not far from the termination of a valley which descends
from the southern mountains, along which there is a road across a pass
to Hasora.
From Iskardo to Thawar, a large village in a lateral ravine on the
north side of the Indus, almost opposite to the fort of Rondu, the
road distance is about forty miles. As five days were employed in
traversing this distance, the average day's journey was only eight
miles; and yet, from the difficult nature of the road, all the marches
appeared long, and were felt to be very fatiguing. A great part of the
road being at an elevation much more considerable than that the
Iskardo plain, I met with much snow on all the higher parts of the
mountains. In the valley of the Indus thaw made rapid progress, and by
the beginning of March, in favourable exposures, there was no snow
below 8000 feet.
[Sidenote: AVALANCHES.
_March, 1848._]
The progress of the thaw occasioned constant avalanches, the snow
slipping from the steep sides of the ravines, and when once in
motion, advancing with constantly increasing momentum till it reached
the lowest level. All day long the mountains echoed with the sound of
falling snow; the avalanches were not often visible, as they took
place in the ravines, but now and then (where the ravines terminated
in precipices) they were seen pouring in cataracts of snow over the
face of the cliffs. In each large ravine which joined the Indus I
found one of these gigantic avalanches, and was enabled to see that
they were composed of a congeries of balls of snow, varying in
diameter from one to six feet, and often containing fragments of rock
in their centre. Many of these snow-streams were not less than forty
or fifty feet thick. At the level of the Indus they were now very
soft, and evidently thawing rapidly.
In many parts of Rondu are to be seen very distinct indications of the
boulder conglomerate, by which the ravine was _perhaps_ at one period
entirely filled; though from the very steep slopes of the mountains in
most places, there is not often a resting-place for it. The platforms
on which the villages are built are all formed of this alluvium, and
are often covered with transported blocks of vast size. Between Siri
and Baicha I saw several which were not less than sixty feet in
length. In the upper part of the valley of Thawar, which is more level
than the ravines higher up the Indus, a great accumulation of clay and
boulders is seen attaining a height of at least 8000 feet above the
level of the sea, as it forms hills a thousand feet above the village,
which is at least as much above the Indus.
The valley in which the village of Thawar is situated slopes gently
towards the Indus till near its termination, when it descends
extremely abruptly down a very steep inclined bank of boulders, which
appears to block up the whole of the end of the valley. The slope of
this steep bank was so great that it was only possible to descend by a
very devious route. Between the lower part of the cultivation and the
commencement of the steep slope, the valley was very irregular, and
filled with heaps of boulders, forming long low hills. The appearance
of the mass of debris in this valley was very remarkable, and had much
the appearance of an old moraine deposited by a glacier, which had
extended as far as the end of the present cultivation, and had shot
forward the boulders by which it had been covered into the abyss
below.
[Sidenote: BRIDGE OF RONDU.
_March, 1848._]
The Indus is crossed by a swing-bridge of willow twigs, which leads
from the villages on the north bank to the fort of Rondu. From Thawar
I descended to this bridge, in order to ascertain the boiling-point of
water, so as to get an approximation to the elevation of the bed of
the river. It is thrown across a remarkably contracted part of the
river, where it flows between perpendicular rocks rising several
hundred feet out of the water, and the path by which the bridge is
reached from Thawar descends the scarped face of the precipice by a
succession of ladders.
From the boiling-point of water I estimated the elevation of the
bridge, which was more than a hundred feet above the river, at 6200
feet. This would indicate a fall of about 1000 feet since leaving
Iskardo, or, as the river flows very tranquilly till it leaves the
Iskardo plain, from the commencement of Rondu, a distance by the road
of twenty-nine miles, but not, I should think, more than twenty along
the course of the river, as the road winds very much in crossing
ridges. This is equivalent to a fall of about fifty feet per mile,
which, for a stream discharging so vast a volume of water, is very
considerable indeed, but not more than is indicated by the general
turbulent course of the river.
[Sidenote: CULTIVATED TREES.
_March, 1848._]
The villages of Rondu, though mostly small, have abundance of
fruit-trees. The apricot is still the commonest of these; but there
are also many fine walnuts, and plenty of vines climbing up the trees,
and remarkable for the great size of their trunks. Willows are very
common, and two kinds of poplar, and now and then there occurs a
plane-tree of enormous girth and stature, which must, no doubt, afford
a most welcome shade from the rays of the too-powerful sun of summer,
the heat of which, in so deep and rocky a ravine, must be very
oppressive. The willow and poplar had already begun to show signs of
vitality, the flower-buds being almost ready to expand; the other
trees seemed still quite inert.
All over the hills of Rondu the juniper[16] is rather common, and
seemingly quite at home both on the higher ridges, and in the bottom
of the ravine close to the river. It forms generally a low bush, but
occasionally I saw small trees, and once, in a level tract close to
the river and near a village, a considerable tree perhaps forty feet
high. The young plants had made considerable shoots, and were covered
with longish acicular patent leaves, very different from the short
adpressed scaly leaves of the adult plant.
[Sidenote: PINE TREES.
_March, 1848._]
Rondu is remarkable for producing another Coniferous tree, indeed a
true pine, namely, _Pinus excelsa_, which occurs in small groves in
several places on the south side of the river, at elevations from
eight to ten thousand feet above the sea. It was first observed
opposite the village of Siri, but is more plentiful above the fort of
Rondu. One or two trees occur close to the river, and on the north
side, so that I was enabled to get specimens and ascertain the
species. The occurrence of this tree must be considered to indicate a
greater degree of humidity than exists in the upper parts of the Indus
valley, so that Rondu is the place of transition between the Tibetan
climate and that of the eastern Punjab, into which the Indus passes at
its point of exit from the mountains.
The mountains of Rondu contain much granite, which occurs in great
mass at the bridge opposite the fort. In this place the granite
occupies the lower part of the ravine, close to the river, while the
higher parts of the mountains are composed of gneiss or clay-slate,
sometimes passing into sandstone, or of a highly crystalline magnesian
rock. The granite consists chiefly of quartz and mica, the former, as
well as the felspar, white, the mica black and highly crystalline.
The stratified rocks are always highly metamorphic, and are shattered
and dislocated by the intrusion of the granite to a very great extent.
[Sidenote: LOWER PART OF RONDU.
_March, 1848._]
Below Thawar and the fort of Rondu, the valley of the Indus continues
extremely narrow and difficult, and ceases to be inhabited at the
village and fortified post of Tok, at which place a few soldiers are
stationed, to keep up the communication with Gilgit, and to give
notice of any incursions from that side. Thence, as far as the
mountain range which bounds the Gilgit valley on the east, the valley
is said to be quite desert. The disturbed state of Gilgit had made me
abandon my original intention of continuing my journey in that
direction; I therefore made only one march to the westward of Thawar,
and found the ravine, along which the river flowed, so barren and
uninteresting, that I did not consider it necessary to visit Tok, but
retraced my steps towards Iskardo, which I reached on the 11th of
March.
[Sidenote: VEGETATION OF RONDU.
_March, 1848._]
I should have been glad to have had an opportunity of observing the
nature of the vegetation of the valley of Rondu, but the season of the
year was unfortunately not favourable for that purpose. The cultivated
plants were not different from those of Iskardo, and much of the
shrubby vegetation was the same as that common higher up the Indus. An
ash, of which the flowers were just expanded, but which was still
quite leafless, appeared a novelty; but it was probably the same
species which I had already collected in Kunawar and Piti. The only
subtropical plants of which I saw any traces, were _Linaria_
_ramosissima_, a shrubby _Plectranthus_, now leafless, but which I
guessed to be _P. rugosus_, and some withered stems of tall reedy
grasses, species of _Saccharum_ and _Erianthus_. In summer, no doubt,
many more would have occurred, and a complete list of the plants of
Rondu would be of very great interest, as illustrative of the
connection between the alpine flora of Ladak, which passes into that
of Siberia, and the vegetation of the mountains of Affghanistan, the
plants of which are in a great measure the same as those of Persia and
Asia Minor. There is also a transition through this country, down the
valley of the Indus, to a third flora, that of the hot dry plains of
the Punjab and of Sind, which extends with little variation along the
littoral districts of Beluchistan and Persia, into Arabia and Egypt.
On my return to Iskardo, I found the plain almost free from snow, a
little only remaining on banks facing the north. The mountains on the
south side of the valley were, however, still snow-clad to the very
base, and the fruit-trees had scarcely begun to show any signs of
vegetation. Along the watercourses there was more appearance of
spring; a little gentian and _Hutchinsia_ were already in flower, and
most of the spring plants had begun to grow rapidly.
[Sidenote: AGRICULTURAL OPERATIONS.
_March, 1848._]
The return of spring set the whole population of the district to work
in their fields; and both in Rondu and in the neighbourhood of
Iskardo, I had an opportunity of seeing the mode in which the
processes of agriculture are carried on. As soon as the ground is
clear of snow, the manure, which has been accumulated during the
preceding year, consisting of the contents of the cowhouse and
stable, mixed with every sort of refuse, is carried in small baskets
to the fields, on which it is deposited in small heaps. It is then
spread uniformly over the surface by hand. Occasionally the field has
had a previous ploughing, but it is more usually just in the state in
which it had been left after the harvesting of the previous crop.
After the manure has been spread, it is ploughed into the land. The
plough is usually drawn by a pair of bullocks, and is formed entirely
of wood, the front part being blunted and hollow. The ploughshare, a
sharp and hard piece of wood, is passed through the hollow, beyond
which it projects several inches. This moveable piece of wood does the
principal work, and is easily replaced when it has sustained injury.
After the ploughing, the seed is sown broadcast, and the field is then
harrowed. The harrow is a frame-work of wood, weighted with stones,
but without spikes; or a heavy board, weighted; or occasionally only a
thorny bush, with several large stones laid upon it. It is generally
drawn by one man, who assists its action by breaking with his feet the
clods which would otherwise be too bulky to be crushed by it. The
harrowing is repeated till the soil is reduced to a sufficient
fineness, an operation which is much facilitated by the dryness of the
atmosphere. The field is then laid out into small square beds, for
convenience of irrigation, and water is supplied to it at intervals
throughout the summer.
About the middle of March, an assembly of all the principal
inhabitants of the district took place at Iskardo, on some occasion of
ceremony or festivity, the nature of which I have forgotten. I was
thus fortunate enough to be a witness of the national game of the
Chaugan, which is derived from Persia, and has been described by Mr.
Vigne as hockey on horseback, a definition so exact, as to render a
further detail unnecessary. Large quadrangular enclosed meadows for
this game may be seen in all the larger villages of Balti, often
surrounded by rows of beautiful willow and poplar trees.
[Sidenote: CHAKOR HUNTING.
_March, 1848._]
About the same time, I was invited by the Thannadar of Iskardo to be
present at a hunting party, which he had arranged for the capture of
the _chakor_, or painted partridge, by surrounding a spot of ground,
in which these birds are numerous, with a ring of men, who,
approaching from all directions, gradually form a dense circle of
perhaps a hundred yards in diameter. When the partridges are disturbed
by a horseman in this enclosure, they naturally fly towards the living
wall by which they are surrounded. Loud shouts, and the beating of
drums and waving of caps and cloaks, turn them back, and they are
driven from side to side, till at last, exhausted with fatigue, and
stupid from the noise and confusion, they sink to the ground, and
allow themselves to be caught by hand. The scene was a very striking
one. The spot selected was a deep dell, full of rocks, but without
trees. The sport, however, did not seem so successful as usual, six or
eight birds only being captured. The chakor is an extremely common
bird in all parts of the valley of the Indus, and indeed throughout
Tibet. In winter, when the hills are covered with snow, they are to be
found in great numbers close to the river, even in the immediate
neighbourhood of the villages; and in general, when approached, they
lie very close among the crevices of the stones.
[Sidenote: SHIGAR VALLEY.
_March, 1848._]
Before finally leaving Iskardo, I devoted three days to a visit to the
valley of Shigar, which is watered by a very large tributary which
joins the Indus opposite the rock of Iskardo. The terminal ridges of
the mountain ranges on both sides of the Shigar river, advance close
to the centre of the valley where the stream enters the Indus. The
road to Shigar from Iskardo, therefore, crosses low hills of dark
schistose rocks, winding among dry valleys which are occupied by great
masses of alluvium. A coarse sandstone, horizontally stratified,
formed beds of fifty feet thick, alternating with and capped by beds
of clay conglomerate containing numerous angular fragments. The
sandstone was very similar to that which I had previously seen on the
top of the rock of Iskardo, and rested upon thinner strata of a
bluish-grey indurated clay, quite non-fossiliferous, and different in
appearance from any deposit which I had seen in Tibet. These
lacustrine strata occupied both sides of the valley along which the
road lay. From the summit of the low range of hills, the road
descended rapidly to the level of the cultivation of the Shigar plain.
The Shigar river flows through a wide gravelly channel in many
branches; and low, grassy, and swampy tracts skirt the stream. Fifty
feet above these are the platforms of alluvium, which extend along the
left bank of the river uninterruptedly for five or six miles, and vary
in width from a quarter of a mile to a mile or more. They are almost
entirely covered with arable land, formed into terraces which rise
gradually one above another, and a succession of small villages are
scattered among the fields. Numerous little streams descend from the
mountains, and irrigation canals ramify in every direction. Ploughing
was the universal occupation of the villagers; and the yellow flowers
of _Tussilago Farfara_ were everywhere seen expanding on the clayey
banks of the rivulets.
The fort of Shigar is close to the mountains on the east side of the
valley, where a considerable stream makes its exit from them. By this
stream, Mr. Vigne ascended to a pass on the high range to the
eastward, and descended upon the Shayuk at the village of Braghar.
Where it terminates in the Shigar plain, this valley is for a few
hundred yards very narrow; but a little above its entrance it widens
considerably, and the flanks of the mountains are covered with a great
accumulation of the alluvial deposits, clinging to the face of the
rocks on both sides, certainly as high as a thousand feet above the
stream. The beds were sometimes, but rarely, stratified, and were very
variable in appearance. Coarse conglomerates, at one time with angular
boulders, at others, with rounded stones, alternated with coarse and
fine sand and finely laminated clays. No fossils of any kind were
observed.
In summer, the discharge of the Shigar river, which descends from the
snowy masses of the Muztagh or Kouen-lun, must be immense, as
prodigious glaciers descend very low among the valleys of its
different branches. Up one of the streams a practicable road exists
towards Yarkand over an enormous glacier. I met with one or two people
at Iskardo who had traversed it; but it is now not at all frequented,
being very unsafe, in consequence of the marauding propensities of the
wild Mahommedan tribes who inhabited the Hunza valley. It was
described to me as an exceedingly difficult road, lying for several
days over the surface of the glacier.
[Sidenote: DEPARTURE FROM ISKARDO.
_April, 1848._]
On the 31st of March, I left Iskardo for the last time. It was
expected that the pass between Dras and Kashmir would be easily
accessible by the time I should reach it. My road as far as Dras was
the same as that along which I had twice travelled in December, and,
except from the indications of returning spring, was much the same as
it had then been. The crops of wheat and barley in the fields in the
Iskardo plain were an inch or two high, the buds of the apricot were
just beginning to swell, and the willows had almost expanded their
flowers.
At Gol and Nar, where the valley is narrow and the heat therefore more
concentrated, the corn was considerably further advanced, and in some
of the apricot flowers the petals had begun to expand. Wild flowers
had also begun to vegetate: a violet was in flower on the banks of
streamlets, as well as a _Primula_ and an _Androsace_. Above Parkuta,
again, the season was more backward. Large snow-banks, which had
descended in avalanches, still remained in all the larger furrows on
the mountain-sides. The river had been discoloured since the day I
left Iskardo, and on the 4th of April, the day I reached Kartash, it
became very much so, and was said to be rising rapidly.
[Sidenote: VALLEY OF DRAS.
_April, 1848._]
On the 6th of April, I entered the Dras valley, and encamped at
Ulding Thung, where there were still a few patches of snow. On the
7th, I marched to Hardas, ten miles. Here, at about 9000 feet, spring
had scarcely commenced. The fruit-trees showed no signs of vitality;
and though the fields had been ploughed, the grain had not yet begun
to vegetate. The valley of the Dras river begins to expand at the
village of Bilergu, four or five miles above Ulding. As soon as there
is enough of level space, beds of conglomerate, and more rarely of
fine clay, appear along the river. Round the village of Bilergu, the
poplars, willows, and apricots are as numerous as in the valley of the
Indus; but beyond it, the inclination of the valley is considerable,
and at Hardas there were but few trees. Above Bilergu the quantity of
snow increased considerably, and the contrast between the sides of the
valley was very striking: at Hardas, the shady slope was quite white,
while that facing the south had only a few patches of snow.
On the 8th of April, I marched to Karbu, eight miles. As I advanced, I
found much more snow; but the road was in general free, except in the
ravines where snow-slips had descended. On the latter part of the day,
these were universal in all the ravines, and were frequently of great
depth, and so soft as to be difficult to cross: on the least deviation
from the beaten path, I sank to the middle at every step. These
avalanches were cut off abruptly by the river, forming cliffs of snow
fifteen or twenty feet high, in which the structure and development of
the mass by successive slips, alternating with falls of snow, could be
distinctly made out. One or two of them still crossed the river, which
flowed below the bridge of ice. Three miles below Karbu, the granite,
which had been the rock ever since entering Dras, was replaced by a
peculiar slate, apparently magnesian, and perhaps hornblende slate,
passing into or containing beds of a coarse sandstone.
At Karbu, where I was detained a day, the Thannadar not having
expected me so soon, and my porters not being ready, the weather was
very unsettled, and in the evening, and during the nights of the 8th
and 9th of April, there was a good deal of rain, especially on the
9th. The wind during the storm was very irregular in direction. The
ground was still covered to the depth of more than a foot with snow.
The morning of the 10th was gloomy, but as the day advanced the clouds
broke, and the afternoon was bright and beautiful, with a gentle air
down the valley.
[Sidenote: FORT OF DRAS.
_April, 1848._]
On the 11th of April I reached the fort of Dras. For the last ten
miles the snow lay continuously, and two or three feet deep, but there
was always a clear path. The temperature being much above the
freezing-point, the thaw proceeded rapidly. A good deal of _Prangos_,
which is evidently a common wild plant (as it is also in many parts of
Kashmir), was seen; the withered inflorescence projecting through the
snow. I observed it also very abundantly in the hay, which is
preserved in the villages, and seems to consist of all the plants of
the meadows cut indiscriminately, and not of _Prangos_ alone, as I had
erroneously imagined.
[Sidenote: MATEN.
_April, 1848._]
My former journey having terminated at Dras, the road in advance was
new to me; but the whole country being still covered with snow, I
could see little of the nature of the surface. The fort of Dras is
about 10,000 feet above the sea: it is situated in an open, nearly
level plain of some width, skirted by low hills. The higher mountains,
which are several miles distant on both sides, are very steep. Several
villages are scattered over the plain, at some distance from the fort,
which stands alone, on the bank of a little stream, just before it
joins the Dras river. Beyond Dras, the road to the pass having
scarcely been used, there was no beaten path. In the morning the snow
was hard and firm, and even in the afternoon, notwithstanding the
warmth of the midday sun, the foot did not sink more than three or
four inches. The depth of snow increased rapidly as I advanced. Two
miles above the fort the plain contracts into a narrow valley, and the
channel of the river becomes very rocky; the stream is also very
rapid, and the slope of its bed evidently considerable. The valley
again expands around the village of Pain Dras. Immediately beyond this
I crossed the river on a bridge of snow, at least forty feet thick,
which covered the river for more than a hundred yards. This snow-bed,
which was continuous with the general level of the surface, was to all
appearance quite solid. After a march of ten miles I encamped at
Maten, the last village of Dras, a small group of stone huts half a
mile from the river on its eastern bank, and immediately at the base
of a very steep scarped mountain, which rises in precipices several
thousand feet above the village. Maten I estimated, from the
boiling-point of water, to be 10,700 feet above the sea.
[Sidenote: ZOJI PASS.
_April, 1848._]
On the 13th of April I crossed the pass into Kashmir, starting, as
the distance was said to be considerable, at about half-past two
o'clock in the morning. The evening before had been dull, with
irregular squalls of wind, so that the weather did not promise very
favourably. It was very dark and quite calm at two A.M., and when I
started it snowed slightly, but not enough to induce me to stop, as I
hoped it would cease with daylight. Unfortunately, on the contrary, it
increased rapidly, and by four o'clock was snowing heavily, and
continued to do so till the afternoon. There was no wind, and the air
was very mild, so that I suffered no inconvenience from cold. The
surface of the snow, even in the morning, was a little soft, the
cloudy night having prevented it from freezing. After four o'clock it
snowed so heavily that the accumulation of fresh snow soon amounted to
several feet, and we sank above the knee at every step. There was
scarcely any slope, the road appearing quite horizontal. Before
daylight my guides managed to lose their way, and we wandered for more
than half an hour puzzled by our own footsteps. The compass was of no
use, as I did not know the direction in which we ought to proceed, nor
was it till after dawn that we recovered the road.
[Sidenote: VALLEY OF THE SIND RIVER.
_April, 1848._]
After daylight there was no improvement in any respect, as the heavy
snow completely obscured the view. The leaders of the party, however,
seemed to recognize the outlines of the hills, as they held their
course without hesitation. The valley was quite full of snow, which
completely covered all irregularities of surface. The river was often
quite covered by the mass of snow for distances of more than a furlong
without interruption. Our path often crossed it; and, latterly, for
several miles before gaining the crest of the pass, the stream was
completely concealed.
About noon the snow fell more lightly, and we could see around. The
width of the valley was from half a mile to a mile, and steep
mountains rose on both sides to a considerable height, the peaks
being, I should think, at least 16,000 feet. Patches of willow and
juniper were seen on the sides of the hills. Still the road was to
appearance quite level. The valley made several bends, and we turned
finally to the right, before gaining the crest of the pass, to which
there was a barely perceptible rise.
The descent was at first gradual, but soon became very steep, down a
bank of snow, which filled the whole of a narrow ravine. The rocky
walls on either side were at first bare, but soon became sprinkled
with birch and pine. For two thousand feet below the summit of the
pass the descent was uninterrupted, till I reached the banks of the
Sind river, which flows through the northernmost valley of Kashmir,
and is separated from the main valley by a lofty range of mountains.
Here, on a level space separated by a little stream from pine-forest,
I found a log-hut buried up to the roof in snow, which was heaped up
round the building, probably from having been thrown off the roof. The
snow at Baltal--for so this first halting-place on the Kashmir side of
the Zoji pass is called--was not deep, probably little more than what
had fallen during the day.
[Sidenote: DETENTION AT BALTAL.
_April, 1848._]
My whole party took possession of the log-hut; but not liking the
smoke which, in an instant, filled it, so that there was no seeing
across its width, I had a space cleared for my tent. It rained smartly
in the evening, but soon after dark it again began to snow, and long
before morning I was awoke by the cracking of the ridge-pole of my
tent, which had given way under the pressure of a foot and a half of
snow. Had it fallen at once I should probably have been buried till
morning, as I was too distant to make myself heard, and had to rise to
summon assistance, to move my bed into the log-hut.
All day on the 14th it snowed unceasingly, and my people would not
continue the journey; but on the 15th it was fair, and I gladly made a
move, as the log-hut of Baltal was a most uncomfortable resting-place.
The road lay along the Sind river, which ran to the south-west,
through a deep but rather open valley, only partially wooded. The
forest consists partly of pines, partly of deciduous-leaved trees. Of
these I could recognize birch, poplar, and willow, which formed the
mass of the woods, but there were no doubt many others. The pines were
principally _Pinus excelsa_; silver fir and spruce also occurred, but
I saw no deodar nor Gerard's pine. The trees grew in well defined
masses of forest, separated by much open ground, in the level plain
which skirted the river on the south side of the valley; on this side
they also rose high on the mountains, but the slopes on the north side
were bare.
[Sidenote: SONAMARG.
_April, 1848._]
Seven or eight miles from Baltal, I found an uninhabited house, at a
place called Sonamarg[17], where a bridge crosses the Sind river. Snow
had been continuous all the way, diminishing in depth as we descended
the river. A mile or two before reaching Sonamarg, the stream
approaches close to the mountains on the north side of the valley,
barely leaving a passage for the road, which for some distance skirted
the base of steep cliffs. In one of the ravines which here furrowed
the mountain slopes, I had an opportunity of seeing the descent of an
avalanche. While crossing the ravine I was warned by the sound that a
snow-slip was approaching, but had abundance of time to retreat to a
place of safety before it came near. When the avalanche came into
sight, the ravine, which was narrow and deep, was completely filled by
balls of snow of various dimensions, which continued to flow past for
several minutes. The snow-slip terminated in the river, which was
speedily blocked up for two-thirds of its width with an immense
accumulation of snow.
At Sonamarg the Sind river bends abruptly towards the south, and
enters a rocky gorge, down which its stream advances with great
rapidity, over a steeply inclined bed, very rocky and much interrupted
by rapids. Leaving Sonamarg on the morning of the 16th of April, I
crossed the river, and after a mile and a half of level ground bare of
trees, still covered with snow, I entered a thin forest of pine and
silver fir, which continued to the entrance of the gorge. The silver
fir (_Picea Webbiana_) was a fine straight tree, with short horizontal
or drooping branches, and its leaves were very variable in length.
When I had fairly entered the narrow gorge of the river, I found that
it was in many places still blocked up with snow, which had descended
in avalanches down the narrow ravines, and had accumulated in the bed
of the stream. We crossed the river three times on snow-beds. From the
rapidity of the descent, however, the climate changed rapidly. After
four or five miles there was no snow, except in ravines, where it had
accumulated in avalanches, and at last even these had almost entirely
melted away. Still snow lay in patches on the right bank of the river,
in the village of Gagangir, at which I halted for the day; and on the
left bank, which faced the north, and was therefore in shade, snow
still covered the whole surface down to the bank of the river.
[Sidenote: GAGANGIR.
_April, 1848._]
At the village of Gagangir the Sind river resumes its south-westerly
direction, and its valley becomes more open, and the descent of its
bed less abrupt. The elevation of the village is about 7900 feet above
the level of the sea, so that the descent from Sonamarg is probably
not less than a thousand feet in a distance of nine miles--a very
considerable fall. On the latter part of the day's journey, a very
considerable change was observable in the aspect of the vegetation.
Birch and willow continued common throughout, but were mixed latterly
with many other trees and shrubs, all of which were beginning to show
symptoms of vitality. The hazel (_Corylus lacera_) and a species of
_Viburnum_ were in full flower, both still devoid of leaves; a few
herbaceous plants were also in flower in open places, the most
abundant of which were a species of _Colchicum_, remarkable for its
bright orange-coloured flowers, and a pretty little rose-purple
_Corydalis_, very closely allied to, if not the same as, a species of
eastern Europe. Still the general aspect of the country was very
wintry, as there were few pines, and the forest was therefore quite
bare of leaves, while the signs of progress, though evident on a near
inspection, did not attract attention in the general view.
[Sidenote: SIND VALLEY.
_April, 1848._]
At Gagangir, which is the first village of Kashmir by the route along
which I was travelling, I was enabled to relieve my Dras porters, who
had accompanied me so far. The discharge and payment of these men
occupied me a great part of the 17th of April; and as the day was
rainy I did not leave Gagangir till the 18th, when I marched to Gond,
seven miles. The road still followed the course of the Sind river,
which I crossed twice during the day. The width of the valley was
considerable all along, with much arable land, and a good many
villages in ruins on both sides. The mountains on the right hand were
uniformly bare of trees, and often rocky; on the left they were well
wooded to the summit, the forest being most dense above. Early in the
day several of the ravines were still full of snow; and on the shady
side a good deal lay in patches. Further on, the snow in the valley
had quite disappeared, but on the mountain slopes there was still
plenty. As I advanced the cultivated land increased in extent, and the
appearance of the valley became exceedingly picturesque, the centre
being occupied by a broad belt of fields and orchards, while the hills
on both sides rose abruptly to a great elevation. The fruit-trees were
principally walnuts, apples, and apricots. Groves of poplar occurred
occasionally along the river, but I saw no birch during the day. Many
more spring plants were in flower than on the previous day;
_Cruciferæ_ were the prevailing family, but I also collected species
of _Nepeta_ and _Gagea_, and a pretty little tulip. On the latter part
of the march, a small shrubby species of _Amygdalus_ was very
abundant; and _Fothergilla involucrata_ of Falconer, a plant of the
natural order _Hamamelideæ_, which was just bursting into flower,
formed a dense coppice on the hills on the north bank of the river.
Though the greater part of the plants was new to me, still I
recognized a number of species which occur in the valley of the Indus.
_Juniperus excelsa_ was common in rocky places, and the _Ribes_ and
rose were the same as those common at Iskardo.
[Sidenote: VEGETATION.
_April, 1848._]
On the 19th, the road still followed the course of the Sind river, now
a rapid torrent, much swollen by the heavy rains, flowing through an
open valley. A good deal of level ground was interposed between the
mountains and the stream, and was laid out in terraced fields
evidently adapted for rice cultivation, but now quite bare. I met with
many very interesting plants. _Tussilago Farfara_ was abundant,
growing in gravelly places along the river. In shady woods a species
of _Hepatica_, with a small white flower, first discovered by Dr.
Falconer, was common. In more sunny places a _Primula_ and _Androsace_
were in full flower. On open sandy soil a species of the curious
Siberian genus _Ceratocephalus_ was a very striking novelty. On the
higher hills there was still dense forest of _Pinus excelsa_, spruce,
silver fir, and deodar, mixed with yew and _Juniperus excelsa_, and
with many deciduous-leaved trees, few of which were recognizable.
After travelling twelve miles I encamped at Gangan, which is elevated
about 6000 feet.
Next day I remained stationary; but on the 21st I continued my journey
to Ganderbal, nine miles further and close to the point where the Sind
valley expands into the open plain of Kashmir. As I advanced, the
valley gradually widened, and turned more to the south. There were
several platforms, or steppes, as it were, of nearly level arable
land, one above another, and below them the river flowed through a
wide stony plain. The mountains on the right, high and snow-topped,
receded to a considerable distance; those on the left gradually
diminished in elevation, became less covered with forest, and at last
terminated in low ranges of hills covered only with brush-wood. The
road was extremely pretty. At first it lay along the right bank of the
river, through fine underwood, and among beautiful meadows, which
skirted the bank of the stream; it then crossed to the left bank, and,
ascending the lower hills, entered a fine wood, in which apricot,
pear, and cherry trees, all bursting into flower, were common, and to
all appearance wild, though they had probably spread into these woods
from the neighbouring villages. Latterly we emerged upon a somewhat
elevated platform sloping to the south, covered with bushes and many
fruit-trees, with here and there a village, and a great deal of
cultivated ground. Where the Sind valley joined the plain of Kashmir,
it was several miles in width, and evidently richly cultivated. The
expanse of the plain of Kashmir was much greater than I had
anticipated; the mountains on its south side, which were still covered
with snow, were in sight, but at a considerable distance.
Above Gond the valley of the Sind river is very poorly inhabited, and
deserted villages and abandoned cultivation showed that the population
is diminishing. The lower part of the valley, however, is very
populous. The villages are numerous and large, and the houses good:
they are usually built entirely or partially of wood, with high
sloping roofs, which are either thatched or covered with wood. The
cultivated lands all rest upon platforms or banks of alluvium, which
are probably analogous to those of the Tibetan valleys, though, as
they are generally faced by sloping banks covered with bush-jungle,
their structure is not so easily determined as that of the platforms
of that more barren country.
[Sidenote: PLAIN OF KASHMIR.
_April, 1848._]
On the morning of the 22nd of April, after following the base of the
low hills for half a mile, till the last projecting point had been
rounded, I entered the valley of Kashmir. This "celebrated valley" did
not at all come up to the expectations which I had formed from
previous descriptions, and from the appearance of the termination of
the valley of the Sind river. The first impression was one of
considerable disappointment. It was by no means well wooded, and the
centre of the valley along the river, being very low, had an
unpleasant swampy appearance. The road to the town, which is about ten
miles from Ganderbal, led over an elevated platform. There were
several villages, and plane, willow, and fruit trees were scattered
here and there, though far from abundantly. The platform was in
general covered with a carpet of green, now spangled with myriads of
dandelions and other spring flowers. The mountains on the left, which
at first were very low, gradually rose in elevation, and were
throughout rugged and bare. As I approached the town I mounted an
elephant, which formed a part of the _cortège_ sent, according to the
usual oriental etiquette, to receive an expected visitor; and I
consequently saw the town to much better advantage than I should have
done had I ridden through it on my little Ladak pony. Passing
completely through the city, I was conducted to the Sheikh Bagh, a
garden on the banks of the Jelam, at its eastern extremity, in a
pavilion in the centre of which I took up my quarters.
[Sidenote: CITY OF KASHMIR.
_April, 1848._]
The town of Kashmir is apparently of great extent, and seems very
densely populated. Its length is much greater than its width, as it is
hemmed in between the Jelam on the south and a lake on the north. The
principal part of the town is on the north side of the Jelam, but a
large suburb occupies the opposite bank, surrounding the Sher-Garhi,
or fortified palace of the ruler of the country. The streets are in
general so narrow, that there are but few through which an elephant
can pass; and the houses, which have mostly several stories, are built
with a wooden frame-work, the lower story of stone and those above of
brick. There are no buildings of any great note; and the elaborate
account of Moorcroft renders it unnecessary to enter into any detail.
The river is crossed by many bridges, all built of deodar-wood.
[Sidenote: PLAIN OF KASHMIR.
_April, 1848._]
The province or country of Kashmir consists of an extensive plain,
surrounded on all sides by lofty mountains. It is the valley of the
river Behat, or Jelam, which is separated from that of the Chenab on
the south, by rugged and often snowy ranges, and from the basin of the
Indus on the north, by the main axis of the Western Himalaya, which,
originating in the peaks of Kailas, separates the basins of the
Sutlej and the Chenab from that of the Indus. The mountains which
surround the plain of Kashmir are very lofty. Those on the north are
for the most part bare and rugged on their southern face, while those
which lie to the south appear from the plain to be magnificently
wooded with forests of pines and deciduous-leaved trees, descending
almost to their base. On both sides of the valley the mountains rise
above the level of perpetual snow, but those on the north side are
considerably more lofty than the others. Numerous transverse valleys
penetrate into these mountains, which are well cultivated in their
lower parts, and, higher up, present superb mountain scenery. On the
south side of the valley, many passes, varying in elevation from
10,000 to 14,000 feet, lead across the main chain to the Chenab valley
and the plains of India. To the north there are only two frequented
routes, that by the Garys pass towards Hasora and Deotsu, and that by
the valley of the Sind river towards Dras. At the eastern end of the
valley a high pass leads across the mountains to the valley of
Wardwan, from which travellers can reach Kargil and the Indus on the
left, and Kishtwar in the valley of the Chenab on the right.
The flat country or alluvial plain of Kashmir, which is 5300 feet
above the sea, is about fifty miles in length, and not more than ten
or twelve miles wide. It commences close to Islamabad, where the last
spurs of the mountains at the east end of the valley disappear; and
terminates at Baramula, where the ranges, branches of the opposite
mountain chains, again advance close to the bank of the river. It is
traversed in its whole length by the river Jelam, which rises at the
east end of the valley, and winds from one side of the plain to the
other, at one time washing the base of the northern hills, at another
receding to a considerable distance from them. The Jelam flows with a
tranquil stream, and, being navigable throughout the whole of the
level country as far up as Islamabad, for boats of considerable
burden, is the great highway for the traffic of the country, in which,
notwithstanding its being perfectly level, wheel-carriages are
unknown. At Islamabad it is a very small stream, but it gradually
enlarges, by additions from both sides, as it descends. Near the town
of Kashmir it is from fifty to a hundred yards wide, often very deep,
and in few places fordable, even at the driest season.
[Sidenote: LACUSTRINE STRATA.
_April, 1848._]
The plain of Kashmir has evidently at one time been the bed of a lake,
a deposit of fine clayey and sandy strata, more rarely partially
indurated into a soft sandstone rock, occupying a great part of the
surface. Soft pebbly conglomerate is also occasionally met with, and
an indurated conglomerate, containing water-worn pebbles, occurs in
many places in the lower course of the Sind river. This lacustrine
formation forms elevated platforms, which are from fifty to one
hundred and fifty feet or more above the level of the river. In many
places, both on the Jelam and along the lateral streams which descend
from the mountains to join it, the beds of clay have been removed by
aqueous action. In such places the plain has a lower level, often very
little above the surface of the river, and is covered with rice-fields
or with marshy lands, undrained and not under cultivation.
[Sidenote: LAKE OF KASHMIR.
_April, 1848._]
The platforms of lacustrine clay are called, in Kashmir, "_karewah_."
They are often quite dry, and generally uncultivated, but where water
is procurable they are highly cultivated, yielding luxuriant crops of
wheat and barley. A proper application of artificial irrigation would,
I believe, make the whole of these more elevated parts of the plain
fertile, as the soil is everywhere well adapted for the growth of
corn. These karewahs generally run parallel to the lateral streams
which join the Jelam, and extend from the base of the mountains till
they are cut off by the river. There are, however, in the upper part
of the valley, several isolated patches, all horizontally stratified,
from which I infer that they had originally been continuous. One of
these, near Bijbeara, forms a table-topped hill of considerable
extent, surrounded on all sides by low land. Several low hills near
Islamabad, also, are evidently outlying patches of the same formation.
The sands and sandy clays of these platforms are usually quite
non-fossiliferous; but I determined the lacustrine nature of the
strata by finding, on the flanks of Takht-i-Suleiman, a hill near the
town of Kashmir, and close to the city lake, but at least thirty feet
above its level, a bed of clay, which contained, abundantly, shells of
the genera _Lymnæa_ and _Paludina_.
The main chain of the Himalaya, north of Kashmir, consists, where I
crossed it, by the Zoji pass north of Baltal, of metamorphic schist;
and all its branches, which descend towards the plain of Kashmir, seem
to be formed of the same rock. Along the north side of the valley,
however, a series of hills of trap rise, almost isolated, out of the
plain. Ahathung, near the Wulur lake, is, I believe, the most westerly
of these, but I did not visit it, and only infer its structure from
its conical shape and from its similarity in appearance to those
further east. Near the town of Kashmir there are two of these isolated
hills, composed of an amygdaloidal trap: these are Hari-Parbat, which
is fortified, and Takht-i-Suleiman, which rises about eight hundred
feet above the plain. The former lies to the north-west, and the
latter on the north-east side of the town.
The lake or _Dal_ of Kashmir lies to the north of the town, stretching
from the base of these two hills to the more lofty mountain range
which bounds the valley on the north. It is nearly circular and four
or five miles in diameter, but is only open in its northern half, the
end nearest the town being occupied by large islands, with narrow
channels between them, in some of which there is a good deal of
current. Its waters are discharged into the Jelam by a considerable
stream, which, flowing from its south-east corner, runs to the
westward in a course nearly parallel to the southern margin of the
lake for nearly a mile, when it turns abruptly south to enter the
Jelam in the middle of the town of Kashmir. This stream is evidently
an artificial canal, and the embankment by which it is separated from
the lake appears to have been constructed in order to keep the surface
of the latter higher than it would naturally be. The stream at its
point of exit from the lake flows through a narrow canal of masonry,
and has, when the Jelam is low, a fall of several feet. A pair of
flood-gates prevent the return of the stream in times of flood, when
the waters of the river are higher than those of the lake.
The Wulur lake, below the junction of the Sind river with the Jelam,
appears to be similar in appearance to that close to the town, and,
like it, to owe its extent in part to artificial means. Its dimensions
are, however, much greater. There are several large marshy tracts in
different parts of the plain, which, by a little engineering, might
also be converted into lakes: one in particular, near Avantipura, is
quite under water in spring, though in summer and autumn it is only a
swamp.
[Sidenote: CLIMATE OF KASHMIR.
_April, 1848._]
The climate of Kashmir is the same as that of the interior valleys of
the Himalaya, but modified by its extreme western position, which
brings it within the influence of the spring rains which prevail in
Affghanistan and the countries on the lower mountain course of the
Indus. There are at least four months of winter; and in general a good
deal of snow falls. March and April are very rainy; the summer months
mostly dry and fine. The periodical rains of India cannot be said to
extend into Kashmir; but in July and August showers and thunder-storms
are said to be frequent. The spring and autumn are unhealthy seasons.
In the former, the cold rainy weather affects those who have already
suffered from the malaria produced by the action of a powerful sun on
neglected swamps. The abandonment of cultivation, in consequence of
the long oppression of the country under a foreign government, has
been the cause of the increase of marshy ground. The river in seasons
of flood rises higher than the level of the lowest portion of the
alluvial land, and is only excluded (as in Holland) by means of
artificial works along the course of the river. By the omission to
repair these _bunds_, or dykes, a large extent of country which might
be under cultivation is left in a state of swamp.
[Sidenote: VEGETATION OF KASHMIR.
_April, 1848._]
There is no natural forest on any part of the open plain of Kashmir,
and the cultivated trees are not numerous; the plane, poplar, and
willow are all common, with numerous fruit-trees, chiefly walnuts,
apples, apricots, cherries, and quinces. A mulberry is also common,
the dried specimens of which are in no way distinguishable from those
of the common white mulberry of Europe, with which I have compared it.
The vines are trained up the poplar-trees, rising to their very tops,
and hanging down from their summits. A species of _Celtis_, which is
commonly planted around the town, is, I think, the most tropical of
all the Kashmirian trees, being common in the warmer valleys of the
outer Himalayas; it is, however, I think, _Celtis australis_, L., a
species which is a native of western Asia and eastern Europe, and
appears to find its eastern limit in the Himalaya.
At the time of my arrival in Kashmir, the fruit-trees were in full
blossom; the wild vegetation had, however, made very little progress,
only the earliest plants being in flower. The spring flora was
eminently European in character; not only the genera, but many of the
species, being identical with those of our own island. _Cruciferæ_
were the most abundant natural order; and, among many others, I
collected _Draba verna_, _Capsella_, _Erysimum_, _Alliaria_, _Turritis
glabra_, and European species of _Lepidium_, _Thlaspi_, _Alyssum_, and
_Sisymbrium_. Other common forms were _Lycopsis arvensis_,
_Lithospermum arvense_, _Myosotis collina_, _Scandix Pecten_,
_Ranunculus Philonotis_, _Anagallis arvensis_, _Euphorbia
Helioscopia_, and several species of _Veronica_. None of the annual
plants were Indian forms, though a few of them were such as occur
commonly in the plains in the cold season. The shrubby vegetation was
very limited: a Juniper (_J. communis_), a _Cotoneaster_, _Rubus_,
_Rosa Webbiana_, _Zizyphus_, _Elæagnus_, _Daphne_, and two species of
_Berberis_, were the most common. A few straggling trees of _Pinus
excelsa_, which grew on the northern face of the low hill called
Solomon's Throne, were the only pines which I saw in any part of the
open valley.
FOOTNOTES:
[16] This juniper has a very extended range in altitude, being common
in the drier parts of the Himalaya at elevations of 12-13,000 feet,
and in some parts of Tibet, where it meets with a higher summer
temperature, even as high as 14-15,000 feet. It is the _Juniperus
excelsa_ of Wallich, and, so far as the point can be decided by dried
specimens, seems identical with specimens in the Hookerian Herbarium,
collected in Karabagh and Sakitschiwan by Szowitz, and communicated to
Sir W. J. Hooker by Fischer. The Taurian specimens of _J. excelsa_
from Bieberstein are, however, a good deal different, and are perhaps
only a form of _J. Sabina_.
[17] In Moorcroft's time, this place was a small village.