Environs of Kashmir -- City lake -- Gardens of Shalimar and
Dilawer Khan -- Pampur -- Avantipura -- Platforms of lacustrine
clay -- Mountain of Wasterwan -- Ancient city -- Clay, with
shells and fragments of pottery -- Ancient temple imbedded in
clay -- Lakes caused by subsidence -- Islamabad -- Shahabad --
Vegetation -- Vernag -- Banahal Pass -- Valley of Banahal --
Tropical vegetation -- Pass above Chenab Valley -- Nasmon --
_Jhula_, or Swing-bridge -- Balota -- Ladhe ke Dhar -- Katti --
Fort of Landar -- Mir -- Kirmichi -- Tertiary sandstones --
Dhuns -- Seda -- Jamu.
During my stay in Kashmir, besides the necessary ceremonial of
complimentary visits, my chief occupation was visiting the principal
places in the vicinity. From my residence in the Sheikh Bagh I had
easy access to the river, as well as to the canal by which it
communicates with the lake. A broad road, three-quarters of a mile in
length, shaded on both sides by very fine poplar-trees, runs from the
eastern end of the town, parallel to this canal, as far as the hill
called the Takht, at the foot of which is situated the passage by
which the lake discharges its waters into the canal. The weather was
very favourable, the spring rains having terminated a day or two
before my arrival. The Kashmiris are accomplished boatmen, a great
part of the population living upon the water; and as most of the
conspicuous objects around the town are only accessible by water, I
gave pretty constant employment to a boat's crew whom I hired during
my stay.
[Sidenote: LAKE OF KASHMIR.
_April, 1848._]
My first visit was to the lake, and to the celebrated gardens on its
northern shore, which were the delight of the emperors who made
Kashmir their retreat from the heat and cares of Delhi and Lahore. The
southern part of the lake is very shallow, and I sailed along narrow
channels, which separated large patches of tall reeds, among which a
very narrow-leaved _Typha_ and an _Arundo_ were the commonest plants.
Three or four species of _Potamogeton_ were abundant in the lake, just
coming into flower, but most of the water-plants were only beginning
to vegetate. I saw three or four flowers of a water-lily (_Nymphæa
alba_), and could just recognize _Villarsia nymphæoides_, _Menyanthes
trifoliata_, and _Trapa_, all of which had been recorded by previous
travellers as natives of Kashmir. I looked anxiously for _Nelumbium_,
but saw no signs of it, except the withered capsules of the previous
year, many of which I observed floating on the lake.
[Sidenote: GARDENS OF KASHMIR.
_April, 1848._]
The gardens of Shalimar and of Dilawer Khan rise in a succession of
terraces from the margin of the lake. They are laid out in a stiff
formal style, straight walks crossing one another at right angles, and
are irrigated by means of straight water-courses, branching from a
long canal which passes down the centre, through a succession of ponds
well built in masonry, and provided with artificial fountains, which
are made to play on festivals and holidays. Pavilions of fine marble
occupy the intersections of the principal walks. Magnificent
plane-trees form the chief ornament of these gardens, which are now
much neglected; straggling bushes and a wilderness of weeds occupying
all the less conspicuous parts, while the main avenues alone are kept
a little neat.
Although the chief beauty of the valley of Kashmir is undoubtedly the
magnificent girdle of snowy mountains by which it is surrounded, the
orchards and gardens, which are still numerous in the neighbourhood of
the capital, are charming spots, and the more so from the contrast
which they present with the barrenness of the surrounding country, and
the absolute ugliness of the swamps in the centre of the valley. Nor
should it be forgotten, when we compare the accounts given by early
travellers with the impressions made upon us by the present appearance
of the valley, that Kashmir is no longer in the same state as it was
in the days of the emperors; a long continuance of misrule, under a
succession of governors, whose only interest it has been to extract as
much revenue as possible from the unfortunate inhabitants, having
produced the only conceivable result, in abandoned cultivation, a
diminished revenue, and an impoverished people.
On the 2nd of May I left the town of Kashmir, taking the route by the
Banahal pass, towards Jamu and the plains of India. As my road lay for
several days' journey along the course of the Jelam (or Behat, as it
is always called in Kashmir), I engaged boats for the transport of my
servants and baggage as far as Islamabad, travelling myself, however,
generally by land and on foot, in order to see the country. My first
halting-place was Pampur, seven miles from the town of Kashmir. After
traversing the magnificent avenue of poplars, which runs north-west
from the town, the road winds round the base of the Takht, the eastern
face of which is only separated from the Jelam by a low swampy tract,
a few hundred yards in breadth. East of the Takht a succession of
rugged trap hills skirt the road, but beyond these the more distant
mountains are evidently stratified. The road was grassy and quite
level, and passed through much cultivation, the young wheat and barley
being dripping with a heavy dew which had fallen during the night. A
scarlet poppy and _Adonis_ were common weeds among the corn.
[Sidenote: AVANTIPURA.
_May, 1848._]
Next day I travelled to Avantipura, seven miles further. The
lacustrine formations, which had made their appearance on the bank of
the river a little west of Pampur, continued to occur more or less
constantly as we proceeded eastward, and the road traversed for some
miles an elevated plain, quite bare of trees, and only partially
cultivated, while the remainder was covered with grass. The surface of
this plain was eroded by wide transverse valleys, formed by little
streams which ran towards the Jelam: these were flat, and well
cultivated, some of the wheat being already in ear. On the highest
parts of the platform the cultivation of saffron is carried on, in
beds four or five feet square, separated by deep ditches or furrows
from one another. The plant, which flowers in autumn, was now in full
leaf.
[Sidenote: ASCENT OF WASTERWAN.
_May, 1848._]
Behind Avantipura lies a high mountain, called Wasterwan, rising to a
height of 10,000 feet above the sea by the determination of
Jacquemont, or 4700 feet above the plain. It projects forward in an
almost isolated manner, though it is connected by a narrow ridge
behind with the general mass of the range on the north side of the
valley. On the 4th of May I ascended to the summit of this mountain,
which I found to be entirely formed of trap, partly homogeneous, and
partly amygdaloidal. Several gigantic _Umbelliferæ_, already in full
flower, were abundant in the lower parts of the open valley by which I
ascended. One of these was _Prangos pabularia_, which formed dense
thickets four or five feet high. From this open valley I got upon a
sharp ridge, grassy below but very rocky above, along which I
proceeded almost to the top; but being stopped by a precipice, I was
obliged to enter a narrow rocky ravine, by ascending which I managed
to gain the summit, which was grassy and rounded, and covered with a
few patches of snow. On the northern face of the hill snow still lay
in great quantity. The view from the top was very fine, the day being
in every respect favourable: the greater part of the valley of Kashmir
was seen spread out far below, and a complete circle of snowy
mountains bounded the horizon. The mountains to the north were seen to
be distinctly stratified.
The commonest plants on the ascent were a beautiful rose-coloured
_Oxytropis_, and a tulip (_T. stellata_), the flowers of which, when
fully expanded, spread out like a star. A few trees of _Pinus excelsa_
were seen on the upper part of the ridge; and in a hollow close to the
top there were about a dozen yew-trees. On the summit, though the
vegetation was not generally alpine, most of the plants of the middle
zone extending to the very top, there were many pretty little spring
flowers, which did not extend far down. A _Primula_, _Pedicularis_,
_Gentiana_, _Leontopodium_, _Corydalis_, and _Callianthemum_, were all
in flower. On the northern slope of the mountain, a wood of deciduous
trees, still bare of leaves, commenced a few yards below the summit.
At first the trees were all birch, but lower down a cherry and maple
were mixed with it; the former with young leaves, and just-formed
racemes; the latter only recognizable by the last year's leaves, which
strewed the ground. A few horse-chesnut trees were also seen near the
top.
[Sidenote: ANCIENT CITY OF AVANTIPURA.
_May, 1848._]
The neighbourhood of the village of Avantipura is one of the most
interesting places in which the lacustrine strata of the Kashmir
valley can be studied, as there is distinct evidence of the existence
in that place of deposits much more recent than those which extend
over the whole plain, and which were therefore formed when the valley
was occupied by a large lake. Avantipura was formerly the site of a
very large town, the capital, I believe, of the kingdom; built in the
shape of an amphitheatre in a deep semicircular bay, enclosed by two
low spurs, which project from the mountain Wasterwan, which rises
immediately behind.
The ruins of the ancient town are still visible, consisting of heaps
of stones, some of immense size, indicative of large buildings, but
none of them showing the slightest traces by which the shape or
structure of the edifices could be determined. These ruins extend all
round the deep recess in the mountains, and terminate below quite
abruptly, without any apparent cause, in a perfectly horizontal line
along the mountain-side. The mountain behind is an isolated peak,
furrowed by numerous ravines, which are dry except immediately after
rain. The place would therefore appear singularly inappropriate as the
site of a large city, were there not, I think, sufficient evidence
that a lake existed in front of the town, the surface of which was on
a level with the horizontal line by which the ruins are abruptly
terminated.
[Sidenote: CLAY, WITH BROKEN POTTERY.
_May, 1848._]
The ruins of the ancient city stand upon the lacustrine clay of the
Kashmir plain, and are therefore posterior in age to the period when
the valley was occupied by one large lake. Immediately in front of the
ancient ruins, between them and the small modern village of
Avantipura, which is situated on the banks of the Jelam, there occur
beds of fine brown-coloured clay, containing in great quantity
fragments of pottery, with here and there small pieces of charcoal and
bone. In one place on the bank of a small ravine, which then probably
carried a streamlet into the lake, I found the clay to contain, mixed
with the broken pottery, numerous shells, some fresh-water and some
land species, and all the same as are common at the present day in the
river Jelam, or on the grassy hill-sides in the valley. The place
where these shells occur is fifty or sixty feet above the river.
The appearance of this evidently very modern deposit is exactly that
which would no doubt be exhibited, were the present lake close to the
city of Kashmir dried up, and a section of its bed exposed. This lake
contains abundance of shells, and in the neighbourhood of the town it
is made the receptacle of refuse of every kind, broken pottery being
particularly plentiful. In shallow places in the river, close to the
town of Bijbehara, a similar deposit is accumulating, valves of a
_Cyrena_ being found to some depth in the fine mud, mixed with broken
pots, charcoal, bones, and other refuse.
[Sidenote: TEMPLE IMBEDDED.
IN LACUSTRINE CLAY.
_May, 1848._]
The most remarkable fact connected with this very recent lacustrine
deposit is, that the ruins of an ancient temple exist on the plain
above the Jelam, a little west of the modern village, partially buried
in the clay. The upper parts of two temples, resembling in all
respects the ruins on the elevated platform at Martand, near
Islamabad, stand on the open plain, not far from the river, but
perhaps twenty feet above its level, and certainly far below the level
to which the clay containing pottery rises on the hill-sides. One of
the temples is quite in ruins, the immense blocks of which it is built
being piled confusedly on one another. The beautiful colonnade
(exactly like that at Martand) by which it is surrounded, is evidently
quite uninjured in any way; but it is entirely buried under the
lacustrine clay, except a very small portion, consisting of three
pillars, which were exposed by Major Cunningham in 1847. These three
pillars may be seen in a cavity under the level of the present surface
of the ground, and the clay in which they were imbedded contains
fragments of pottery in profusion.
If these temples (the date of which I believe is approximately known
to antiquarians) were contemporaneous with the ancient town, they must
have been buried in the lacustrine silt at some period not very long
subsequent to their erection, if I am right in supposing a lake to
have existed at the same time with the town. Probably, therefore,
they are anterior in age to the town, as they are imbedded in such
masses of pottery as could only have been accumulated in the
neighbourhood of a very dense population. Their present appearance, I
think, helps to explain the nature and origin of the many lakes or
marshy depressions which occur in all parts of the valley. It appears
evident that at Avantipura, at some period subsequent to the building
of the temples, a subsidence of the ground must have taken place
during one of the many earthquakes which are well known to have
convulsed the Kashmir valley. This subsidence, which must have been
partial, and not co-extensive with the valley, converted the ground on
which the temples stood into a lake. A fresh subsidence, or the
gradual wearing away of the incoherent clay strata lower down the
river, must at last have drained the little lake, and left the country
round Avantipura in the state in which we now see it. Even now a marsh
partly under water during the spring months extends from Avantipura
for several miles up the river.
The occurrence of repeated partial subsidences in various parts of the
Kashmir plain appears to me the only way in which the general
appearance of the country can be explained. The abrupt, broad, and
shallow depressions between the different platforms are seemingly much
too extensive to have been formed by the trifling streamlets which now
run along them, without the assistance of volcanic action. The lakes,
too, are deeper than the present level of the river, a circumstance
only explicable in an alluvial country on some such supposition; and
as it is well known that violent earthquakes have at intervals
convulsed this valley for many centuries, this mode of explaining the
phenomena becomes highly probable.
[Sidenote: BIJBEHARA.
_May, 1848._]
[Sidenote: ISLAMABAD.
_May, 1848._]
On the 5th of May I continued my journey to Islamabad, which is about
eleven miles from Avantipura. The peak of Wasterwan is the termination
of a long mountain ridge, which separates two large valleys from one
another. Immediately to the eastward, therefore, the mountains recede
from the river, and the road traverses a marshy tract, a great part of
which, from the late heavy rains, was still under water, while the
remainder was laid out in fields, prepared for the cultivation of
rice. Further on, cliffs of lacustrine clay again rose perpendicularly
from the river. Several streams joined the Jelam from both sides, some
of them deep and sluggish, with straight banks like canals, while
others were almost as large as the main stream, and broad and shallow,
with a sandy bed and gently flowing current. Near Bijbehara, a
considerable village, with many timber-built houses and a substantial
bridge of deodar, the banks are beautifully wooded with shady trees.
Above this village the Jelam is much smaller, often shallow, and the
banks lower, though still eight or ten feet above the water, and not
swampy, but either fringed with willow and mulberry trees, or bare and
covered with fields of green corn, or of rape now in full flower. The
bridge of Islamabad, which is the limit of navigation, is nearly a
mile from the town, which is a considerable place, the next in
importance to the capital, though very much smaller. It lies on low
ground close by the river, but immediately behind it a long
promontory of the lacustrine formation stretches back for several
miles, rising abruptly out of the finely cultivated and well-wooded
valley on the left, in steep, rugged cliffs, which are worn into
irregular ravines by the action of rain. These formations attain here
a thickness of at least 150 feet, and well deserve the particular
attention of the geologist. The ancient temple of Martand, the most
perfect of its class of ruins in the valley, is built on the upper and
back part of this platform.
Leaving Islamabad, I crossed immediately one branch of the Jelam,
which descends from the west. It had already lost the tranquil
character of the stream lower down. There were pebbles in its bed, and
it had a more rapid current. After crossing this stream, the country
was for some distance quite flat, and entirely covered with
rice-fields, now bare; some of them had been ploughed, but most were
still just as they had been left after harvest. They were traversed by
numerous ditches or canals for irrigation, in all of which a
proportion of fresh-water shells, chiefly _Lymnææ_, were seen. Further
on, the appearance of the country began to change: there were still
plenty of rice-fields, but they rose in steps one above another, and
the water in the irrigation canals flowed rapidly over pebbly beds.
Crossing another branch of the Jelam, which had a broad channel full
of large boulders, but shallow and easily fordable, the road began
gradually to ascend a low range of hills covered with grass and bushes
where it was dry, but still laid out in rice-fields wherever water was
procurable. These hills, which are the termination of a long range
which descends from the snow-clad mountains at the east end of the
valley, are composed of a very hard limestone, the strata of which are
much bent, sinuated, and fractured. On the south side of this ridge is
the valley of Shahabad, which is watered by the principal branch of
the Jelam. It contains numerous villages, surrounded with fine
orchards, and its rice-fields are arranged in terraces. Water being
plentiful, the whole valley is cultivated with rice, and the district
appears to be one of the richest in Kashmir.
[Sidenote: SHAHABAD.
_May, 1848._]
The general character of the vegetation continues the same as further
west, and the more advanced season enabled me to recognize a few
common Himalayan plants. The scandent white rose (_R. Brunonis_) was
one of these, also _Lonicera diversifolia_ and a shrubby _Indigofera_.
I also observed _Viola serpens_, _Thymus Serpyllum_, _Lactuca
dissecta_, and _Fragaria Indica_. Among the rice-fields several plains
plants occurred, such as _Potentilla supina_, _Convolvulus arvensis_,
_Mazus rugosus_, _Salvia plebeia_, and _Marsilea quadrifolia_. Nor
were the plants of a Tibetan climate altogether wanting, for _Rosa
Webbiana_ was everywhere common, and a species of _Myricaria_ grew
plentifully among the boulders on the banks of all the streams.
[Sidenote: FOUNTAIN OF VERNAG.
_May, 1848._]
From Shahabad I made, on the 7th, a short march to Vernag, a
celebrated fountain near the bottom of the Banahal pass. Crossing the
river, the road lay up the open valley of the Jelam, still among
rice-fields, rising step by step behind one another, as the valley
sloped upwards. Vernag lies close to the mouth of a little lateral
valley, up which our further course lay. The fountain, which is built
of marble, is large, contains many fish, and supplies a considerable
stream. It is the reputed source of the Behat or Jelam, but the main
branch of that river descends from the mountains a good way further to
the south-west. The hills on both sides of the Shahabad valley are of
limestone, the strike of which seemed to be west-south-west, or nearly
in the direction of the valley. It is very much indurated, and its
colour is bluish-grey; it has all the appearance of having been much
altered by heat. The dip appeared different on the opposite sides of
the valley: on the north it was east of north, on the other side
southerly; the inclination of the beds varied much, and they were
often very much distorted. I did not see any eruption of igneous rock
on any part of the day's journey.
On the hills above Vernag there was a good deal of brushwood,
consisting chiefly of _Fothergilla involucrata_, two species of
_Viburnum_, _Cotoneaster_, _Lonicera_, and a few trees of _Pinus
excelsa_, yew, and deodar. The opposite hills were bare and grassy. In
the forests of Kashmir (as was first pointed out by Dr. Falconer) we
do not find the oak, _Andromeda_, and _Rhododendron_, which are so
abundant at similar elevations in the outer Himalaya. The appearance
of the woods is, therefore, remarkably different, as these trees,
which, in the temperate zone of the mountains near the plains,
constitute almost all the forest, give the woods there a peculiar
character.
[Sidenote: BANAHAL PASS.
_May, 1848._]
On the 8th of May I passed from the valley of Kashmir into the basin
of the Chenab, crossing the Banahal pass, the summit of which is not
more than 10,000 feet above the sea: it is a very narrow ridge,
separating two deep valleys. Starting through rice-fields, and
passing at the upper limit of cultivation a few fields of barley and
rape, I soon entered brushwood, the same as on the hills above Vernag.
In the ravines on the left hand, snow descended below 7000 feet.
Ascending rapidly on a ridge, the brushwood gave place to a fine wood
of maple, horse-chesnut, cherry, hazel, and elm, all just bursting
into leaf. The dip of the limestone rocks was exceedingly variable, at
one time southerly, at another northerly, but the strike was, I
believe, the same as the day before. The ascent continuing rapid, the
shady side of the ridge was soon covered with snow; but the road kept
on the southern exposure, which was sometimes bare of forest. Birch at
last appeared among the other trees, and, as the elevation increased,
it began to predominate. About the same time, the limestone gave place
to a slaty rock, which was almost immediately followed by an
amygdaloid, which continued to the summit. Both the slate and the
limestone appeared to have been upheaved by the igneous rock, and I
thought the slate seemed inferior to the limestone.
On the upper part of the ascent the birch gradually became more and
more stunted; it was here almost the only tree, with the exception of
a few specimens of _Picea Webbiana_, at the limit of forest a little
below the summit. Here the hills were bare and rocky; but the forest
did not cease on account of elevation, because on the opposite hill,
which had a northern exposure, a shady wood, chiefly consisting of
pines, rose to a level considerably higher than that of the pass,
which was a depression in the ridge, considerably overtopped by the
hills on both sides. The crest of the pass was undulating, and
covered with green-sward, among which a few spring plants were in
flower; these were a _Corydalis_, an _Anemone_, and _Primula
denticulata_. A large patch of snow occupied the northern slope, just
below the top.
The view from the summit would have been magnificent had the day been
more favourable; but a thick haze rested over the more distant parts
of the valley of Kashmir, as well as over the southern mountains in
the direction of the plains of India. The southern slope of the range
on which I stood was bare, scarcely even a bush being visible; and the
Banahal valley, nearly four thousand feet below, appeared as a
perfectly level plain, covered with rice-fields and scattered
villages, marked by groves of trees. On the descent I followed a very
steep rocky ridge. About half-way down, the amygdaloid was replaced by
metamorphic slate, and for the remainder of the descent the rocks were
alternations of slate, very hard conglomerate, and quartz rock. The
dip of these strata was very variable, and on the face of several
spurs, at a little distance, sections were exposed, exhibiting
enormous flexures. I saw no limestone on the southern face of the
pass, except in the valley of Banahal, where there was a good deal of
a horizontally stratified limestone, very different in appearance from
that on the other side, which, as it was confined to the bottom of the
valley, and was there very local, appeared to be of much more recent
origin.
[Sidenote: BANAHAL VALLEY.
_May, 1848._]
After joining the Banahal river, the descent became more gradual. At
first, the valley was almost level and quite covered with rice-fields,
all under water. The villagers were busy ploughing, both bullocks and
men knee-deep in soft mud. Further on, the valley contracted, and
cultivation only occurred at intervals. In the narrower parts, the
stream was fringed with trees, but the hill-sides were still quite
bare. Round the villages there were very fine trees, chiefly walnut,
horse-chesnut, and elms, with the ordinary fruit-trees; but the plane
and black poplar do not occur, nor are any vines cultivated in the
valley. The winter is said to be quite as severe as in Kashmir; and
the elevation, so far as I could determine it by the boiling-point of
water, is a little greater, the lower villages (in one of which I
encamped) being about 5500 feet, while the highest fields are about
6000 feet. In the woods, _Fothergilla_, cherry, sycamore, and
horse-chesnut were common, just as in Kashmir. The season was much
further advanced than on the north side of the pass, all these trees
being fully in leaf, and the horse-chesnut in flower. The greater part
of the vegetation was identical with that of Kashmir, but I saw many
more species, probably only from the more advanced state of the
season. The _Zizyphus_ and rose (_R. Webbiana_) of Kashmir were still
common, and the white poplar was wild along the banks of the stream. I
did not, however, see _Daphne_ or _Myricaria_. In shady lateral
ravines an oak was frequent, the more interesting as I had seen none
in Kashmir; it was _Q. floribunda_, a species of the middle zone of
the outer Himalaya, which usually occurs at higher levels than _Q.
incana_, and lower than _Q. semecarpifolia_.
Though the river of Banahal is a tributary of the Chenab, yet the
district has always been considered as a dependency of Kashmir, from
which it is only a short day's journey distant, while for several
days in descending towards the Chenab, the country is almost
uninhabited. Halting one day at Banahal to change my porters, I made
three marches to Nasmon, on the right bank of the Chenab, following
the course of the Banahal river during the first and part of the
second march, but afterwards leaving it, on account of its increasing
ruggedness, to cross the range on the left hand by a pass about 8000
feet above the sea, which overhangs the valley of the Chenab. The
bounding spurs which hem in the Banahal valley descend almost
perpendicularly upon the Chenab, and dip at last very abruptly to that
river. At first, large masses of snow were visible at the sources of
all the lateral valleys, but lower down the elevation was not
sufficient, and the hills were bare. After leaving the last village of
Banahal, the bottom of the valley was for some time level and covered
with fine forest, consisting chiefly of magnificent trees of _Celtis_,
elm, and alder; the others were two species of Acer, _Fraxinus_,
_Morus_, _Populus ciliata_, and a willow. _Fothergilla_ now grew to a
small tree, and _Marlea_ made its appearance, the first indication of
an approach to a hot climate. Soon, the banks of the river became
rocky, and left no passage, so that the road ascended on the right
bank, and lay at a considerable elevation on the hill-sides, looking
down upon a richly wooded and often rocky glen. The hills were steep
and generally bare, but the ravines were often well wooded. _Pinus
excelsa_ occurred occasionally; _Quercus floribunda_ was common, and
_Q. lanata_ made its appearance.
Before leaving the Banahal river, I had got down to about 4000 feet,
meeting latterly with some familiar plants of the warmer zone: _Pinus
longifolia_ formed dry woods, _Cedrela Toona_, a fig, _Albizzia
mollis_, and last of all, _Dalbergia Sissoo_. Still, most of the
plants of the upper part of the valley accompanied me throughout; even
the hoary oak had not disappeared, and the general appearance of the
vegetation was very different from what it would have been at the same
elevation further east, the plants of a hot climate being chiefly such
as delight in a dry heat, and are capable of enduring a considerable
amount of winter cold, provided the summer temperature be sufficiently
elevated. It was evident that the temperature was considerably lower
than it would have been at the same height in the Sutlej valley, and I
drew the same inference with regard to the humidity, from the
appearance of a number of dry-climate plants; for instance, a yellow
spinous _Astragalus_, a _Dianthus_, and _Eremurus_, an Asphodeleous
genus common in Kunawar, and other dry valleys of the Himalaya.
[Sidenote: PASS ABOVE NASMON.
_May, 1848._]
In the ascent of the lateral ravine, towards the pass above Nasmon, I
encountered, for the first time, _Rhododendron arboreum_ and
_Andromeda ovalifolia_, the two trees which, with the hoary oak, form
the mass of the Simla woods. The forest was now very fine, as I was on
the northern slope of the range. On the upper part of the ridge by
which I ascended, there was a grove of fine deodar-trees, and in the
bottom of the dell a shady wood of horse-chesnut and sycamore. I had
now entered a zone in which the flora was quite similar to that of
Simla; _Fothergilla_ being the only tree I observed, which is not
common in that district. And it was curious that it was on the
northern and most shady, as well as most humid exposure, that this
identity of flora became first remarkable, and that the same trees
which at Simla form the forests of the drier slopes and more exposed
situations, grew in this valley low down on the hill-sides, in the
most sheltered spots.
[Sidenote: VEGETATION.
_May, 1848._]
The ascent towards the ridge was latterly steep, with a good deal of
silver fir and deodar. The trees rose to the very top of the northern
slope, but, as usual, the summit was bare and grassy, though the tops
of the trees were actually higher than the crest of the ridge, and
obscured the view to the north. As the elevation was only 8000 feet,
there was no peculiarity of vegetation, all the plants being those of
the middle zone, except the silver fir, which descended to a lower
level than it usually does in the Simla hills. There was some
cultivation of wheat and barley within a very short distance of the
summit, which overlooked the valley of the Chenab; and as the day was
fortunately clear, there was a very fine view. The ravine through
which the river flowed appeared everywhere rugged, more especially
towards the plains, where a succession of steep rocky hills were seen,
the nearest of which surrounded the mouth of the Banahal river. Across
the Chenab, a high range, beautifully wooded, ran parallel to the
river, rising into a snowy peak nearly opposite to me. This peak,
which concealed all view of the plains beyond, lay on my road to Jamu,
and was about 9000 feet in height.
[Sidenote: BRIDGE OVER THE CHENAB.
_May, 1848._]
The descent to Nasmon, which is only 2700 feet above the level of the
sea, was very steep. At first it led along the face of a bare hill,
but soon entered a shady ravine, filled with alder, oak, walnut, and
_Celtis_, but without any of the superb horse-chesnuts which had been
so abundant in the humid valleys on the northern face of the range;
nor was there any _Rhododendron_. Crossing a considerable stream, the
road ascended through fine forest to the crest of a ridge, beyond
which there was a long and steep descent of at least 1500 feet, to the
village of Nasmon, on which tropical vegetation made its appearance
very abruptly. _Pinus longifolia_ grew scattered along the sides of
this hill, and _Daphne_, pomegranate, the olive of the Sutlej valley,
_Vitex Negundo_, _Colebrookea_, _Rottlera_, _Sissoo_, _Adhatoda
Vasica_, a thorny _Celastrus_, _Acacia modesta_ and _Lebbek_, and
_Bauhinia variegata_, made their appearance in succession, in the
order in which I have named them. Most of these are the same as the
shrubby forms common in the Sutlej valley at Rampur; but the
_Celastrus_ and _Acacia modesta_ are plants of the plains of the
western Punjab, and do not extend so far west as that river. The range
parallel to the Chenab on the north, which I had just crossed, has
probably a granitic axis, for boulders of granite were common on the
upper part of the ascent on both sides of the pass, though I did not
anywhere see that rock _in situ_. On both sides the first rock exposed
was a fine-grained gneiss, with large crystals of felspar. Lower down,
on the north face, I observed mica-slate, with garnets; and in the bed
of the Banahal river ordinary clay-slate occurred.
[Sidenote: NASMON.
_May, 1848._]
Nasmon is a very large but scattered village, with much cultivation.
It lies on a high platform of alluvium, considerably above the bed of
the river. Plane, orange, apricot, and pear trees grew in the
gardens, with _Melia Azedarach_, and a few trees of the European
cypress (_C. sempervirens_), bearing apparently ripe fruit. The day
was oppressively warm, the thermometer rising above 85° in the shade.
On the 13th of May, I crossed the Chenab by a bridge about a mile
above Nasmon. The descent to the bank of the river was gradual, and
very bare. Rocks of a black clay-slate and of conglomerate, in nearly
vertical strata, formed the bed of the river, which was as large as
the Sutlej at Rampur, and very much swollen and muddy. The bridge is
the simplest form of _jhula_, a single set of ropes, from which a
wooden seat is suspended, which is pulled from side to side by means
of a rope, worked from the rocks on either side of the river. The
banks of the river were adorned with a profusion of bushes of _Nerium
odorum_, in full flower, and highly ornamental. The vegetation along
the river exhibited the same curious contrast of tropical and
temperate forms, which I have already described as characteristic of
the dry valleys of the interior of the Himalaya, at elevations between
two and four thousand feet; and the tropical plants were so similar to
those which I observed on the Sutlej, that I need not particularize
them. There was no forest in any part of the valley near the river,
but a few trees of _Pinus longifolia_ grew scattered on the bank; and
on the stony ground which skirted the stream, there was a low jungle
of the same tropical shrubs as had occurred on the lower part of the
descent the day before. I saw also _Zizyphus nummularia_, a shrub
which is eminently characteristic of a dry climate, being common in
the most desert and rainless districts of the Punjab. The shrubby
temperate forms were not numerous, being chiefly _Rosa Brunonis_, and
the Himalayan pear, _Lonicera diversifolia_, _Myrsine bifaria_, and
_Jasminum revolutum_, all plants which have a very wide range in the
Himalaya.
[Sidenote: WILD OLIVES AND POMEGRANATES.
_May, 1848._]
Passing through the bush jungle which skirted the river, I entered a
large tract of almost level cultivated land, covered with fields of
barley, ripe and partly cut. One or two plantain-trees, and some
buffaloes, were signs that we were still in a very hot region.
Crossing a considerable stream, the road began to ascend rapidly on a
narrow ridge. Passing some farm-houses, surrounded by fields, I
entered a scattered wood of wild olive-trees (_Olea cuspidata_), mixed
with _Zizyphus_ and wild pomegranate. The young shoots and panicles of
the olive were abundantly covered with a white floccose glutinous
matter, the source of which I could not exactly determine; but I could
see no trace of any insects by which it could have been formed, so
that it was perhaps a natural exudation from the tree. Small woods of
_Pinus longifolia_ occurred at intervals, almost alone, for few plants
seem to thrive under its shade. At 4000 feet, while the olive and
pomegranate were still abundant, _Quercus lanata_ appeared. At 4500
feet, which was about the upper limit of the olive, I re-entered a
cultivated district, disposed in terraces on the slopes of the hills.
The barley was quite ripe, and being cut, but the wheat, though in
full ear, was still green. There were also a few fields of the opium
poppy in full flower, and of safflower (_Carthamus tinctorius_), which
was not nearly so far advanced.
I encamped at the village of Balota, elevated 5000 feet. Round the
village were some very fine table-topped deodars, perhaps the relics
of a former forest, though more likely planted by the villagers. The
hills on all sides were richly cultivated, as far up as 6000 feet,
above which elevation fine forest commenced; and the snowy top of the
mountain behind, which I had seen from the pass of the 12th, was
visible rising behind the forest. During the whole of the ascent from
the Chenab, the rock was a coarse-grained sandstone, in highly
inclined strata, generally of a reddish-brown colour, the surface of
which rapidly passes into a state of decay.
[Sidenote: LADHE KE DHAR.
_May, 1848._]
The range of mountains to the south of the Chenab, by which that river
is separated from the basin of the Tawi or river of Jamu, still lay
between me and the plains of India. On the 14th of May, I crossed a
spur from this range, descending into a valley watered by a tributary
of the Chenab. This ridge, which is called Ladhe ke Dhar, rises a
little above 9000 feet, that being the elevation at which the road
crosses it. After leaving the cultivated lands of Balota, the ascent,
which was steady, lay through fine brushwood and stunted oaks. On the
banks of the stream, which occupied the centre of the valley by which
I ascended, sycamore, horse-chesnut, and cherry, were abundant. On the
slopes there were a few trees of _Pinus excelsa_ and _Picea_, but the
forest was not dense. About 7000 feet, on the north-western face of a
spur, there was much cultivation of wheat and barley, hardly yet in
ear. Here there was a fine view in the direction of the upper valley
of the Chenab, of rugged mountains, scarcely wooded on the slope
exposed to view, rising behind one another, the more distant still
heavily snowed. Higher up, the forest was chiefly formed of the
holly-leaved oak, but the latter part of the ascent was through a dark
forest of silver fir, intermixed with a few fine yews. The underwood
here was chiefly _Viburnum nervosum_, still in flower, though its
leaves were almost fully developed. On emerging from this gloomy
forest, in the upper part of which there was a thin sprinkling of
snow, I found myself on the crest of the range, which was bare and
rounded. Snow lay in large patches, and had evidently been till very
recently continuous over the whole top, as vegetation was just
commencing, and few plants were in flower. _Primula denticulata_ was
common, as well as a little gentian, which extended on both sides at
least 2000 feet lower; the only alpine plant was the little
_Callianthemum_ which I had found some days before on the summit of
Wasterwan in Kashmir. The distant view was unfortunately quite
obscured by haze, so that I could not see, as I had expected, the
plains of India.
[Sidenote: KATTI.
_May, 1848._]
In descending the southern face of this mountain, the road at once
entered a forest of silver fir, in the upper part of which I saw one
tree of _Quercus semecarpifolia_, a species which I had not met with
on the Kashmir passes, or anywhere since leaving the Sutlej. About
8000 feet, the pines were replaced by the holly-leaved oak, forming
open woods, in the glades of which patches of cultivation soon
occurred; I encamped at about 7000 feet, at the village of Katti.
During the day the sandstone rock occurred uninterruptedly, partly, as
the day before, of a reddish-brown colour, partly grey, or nearly
white. On the descent large angular fragments of this rock were
everywhere scattered over the surface, almost always more or less
imbedded in the soil: these had somewhat the appearance of a former
moraine, but the surface was so much covered with wood, and the
boulders were so much buried, that I could not trace their arrangement
in a satisfactory manner.
[Sidenote: LANDAR.
_May, 1848._]
Next morning I continued the descent, which was rapid, so that I soon
arrived at tropical vegetation. There was but little forest, except in
ravines, and the heat soon became very great. About three miles from
Katti I passed the fort of Landar, built on an almost isolated cliff,
overhanging the ravine; and a little further on I descended abruptly
to a small stream, running towards the Chenab, the elevation of whose
bed was about 3000 feet. The descent, which was almost precipitous,
led down the face of a mass of clay, in some respects like the
alluvial deposits so common in Tibet. Similar masses of alluvium, all
table-topped, and very steep, and much worn by ravines, had occurred
throughout the whole of the descent from Katti. A few pines grew on
this steep bank, and all the shrubs which I had found on the banks of
the Chenab at Nasmon were again met with. After crossing this stream,
the bed of which was filled with large water-worn boulders, I again
ascended to about 5000 feet, chiefly among cultivation, and encamped
at _Mir_, a small village close to the crest of the main range south
of the Chenab, the elevation of which was now very inconsiderable.
[Sidenote: OPEN VALLEYS OF THE OUTER HIMALAYA.
_May, 1848._]
Next day, a gentle ascent of half an hour brought me to the crest of
this range. The mountain slopes were bare and grassy, but in the
ravines there was now and then some brushwood. _Andromeda ovalifolia_
and _Rhododendron arboreum_ were both noticed; and, much to my
surprise, I observed at intervals a few trees of _Fothergilla_, for I
had not expected to find this Kashmir tree so close to the plains, and
in a district the flora of which was so completely that of the Simla
hills. On the summit of the pass, which was not more than 6000 feet, I
found a beautiful gentian (_G. Kurroo_ of Royle) and a yellow spinous
_Astragalus_, seemingly the same species which I had found at Nasmon,
on the Chenab. It was curious to find a representative of the
spiny-petioled group of this genus in so hot a climate and so near the
plains; for in the rainy parts of the mountains, and in the more humid
parts of the Indian plain, the genus is almost wanting, and this
particular section entirely so.
From the summit I descended at once through a pine-wood to the bottom
of a valley, the course of which I followed throughout the day in a
southerly direction. It gradually widened as I advanced; villages
became frequent, and were surrounded by extensive cultivation, and all
temperate vegetation disappeared. I encamped at the village of
Kirmichi, where the valley which I was following appeared to expand
into an open plain of some width. Here oranges and mulberries were
cultivated in gardens, and the toon and mango, pipal and banyan
(_Ficus religiosa_ and _Indica_) were planted in groves round the
houses.
On the 17th of May, I continued my journey towards the plains of the
Punjab. An open, somewhat undulating valley lay before me, appearing
to stretch from east to west, and to be bounded by two ranges of
hills which had the same direction. Trikota Debi, a curious
three-peaked hill, the last culminating point of the range separating
the Chenab from the Tawi, rose some miles to the westward. To the
eastward the valley of the Tawi was open as far as Ramnagar, which was
distant about twenty miles. In crossing this open plain, or _dhun_, I
nearly followed the course of a little stream which had excavated for
itself a deep channel in the soft sandstone of which the plain was
composed. This rock was very different in appearance from the red or
grey sandstone which had accompanied us from Balota; it was pure
white, and almost horizontally stratified, while that was always
highly inclined. During the latter part of my journey of the 10th I
nowhere saw rock _in situ_, so that I had no opportunity of
ascertaining the contact of these two formations, which are probably
of very different epochs, the sandstone of the open plain being
certainly the Sewalik tertiary formation, while the red sandstone of
the higher mountains, which in the total absence of all organic
remains is as yet of uncertain age, is perhaps the same as the
gypsiferous and saliferous sandstones which skirt a great part of the
western Himalaya.
One or two pine-trees, and some bushes of _Euphorbia pentagona_, were
almost the only features in the vegetation which distinguished this
open valley from the plains of India. On shady rocks along the stream
three or four ferns were common; the oleander also grew near water; a
dwarf date-palm occupied drier spots; and I saw a few trees of _Cassia
fistula_. Crossing a broad shallow river which flowed to the eastward
at the southern boundary of this _dhun_, in a depression faced by
cliffs of sandstone, I entered among low hills covered with scattered
trees of _Pinus longifolia_. This plant appears to grow luxuriantly on
hot dry hills; the trees did not attain a great size, but appeared
vigorous and healthy, with thick trunks and gnarled branches, exactly
like the Scotch fir, except in the great length of the leaves, which
are pendulous from the ends of the branches.
[Sidenote: SANDSTONE RANGES.
_May, 1848._]
On the 18th, I crossed a sandstone range, in which the strata
exhibited an anticlinal axis, dipping towards the plain on both sides.
The ascent was easy, and the summit was not above the limit of
tropical vegetation, as a banyan-tree grew on the top. The descent was
much steeper and considerably longer, the valley to the south being a
good deal lower. The road was good, being in the steeper parts paved
with large flat stones, while in the more rocky parts the sandstone
was cut into steps. A flat and well cultivated valley lay to the south
of this range, in the centre of which flowed a river, in a wide
channel several hundred feet below the level of the plain: it was very
shallow, and was crossed by stepping-stones. Another hilly tract
followed, covered with straggling bush jungle, and on the upper part
with pine-forest: this was also of sandstone, very soft, and excavated
by the various little streams which traversed it, into narrow and deep
ravines. Even foot-paths, by constant use, were sunk four or five feet
deep in the soft rock. The dip of this range was gentle, towards the
plains of India.
[Sidenote: JAMU.
_May, 1848._]
I encamped on the 18th at Seda, under the shade of a superb
banyan-tree, in a hollow in this sandstone range, and next day
continued my journey to Jamu. Emerging from the hills after a mile or
two, I entered a third valley, and followed the course of the little
stream by which it was watered, to its junction with the Tawi, along
which I travelled about four miles; to the town of Jamu, which is
built on the outermost range of hills, at the point where the river
Tawi finally quits the mountains. These hills rise very gently from
the plains, their southern slope forming a long inclined plane,
densely covered with a jungle of low thorny trees. The same sort of
jungle usually skirts their base to a distance of two or three miles,
or as far as the alluvial soil of the level country which lies beyond
is covered with stones and shingle. It is principally composed of
_Acacia modesta_ and _Catechu_, and of two species of _Zizyphus_. The
northern or inner face of this range of hills is very steep, often
quite precipitous; and where they overhang the Tawi, they terminate
abruptly in a line of cliffs facing the river. A similar range, but a
good deal lower, descends from the eastward towards Jamu, and, like
the other, presents a series of vertical cliffs covered with brushwood
towards the river. The town occupies the gentle slope which faces the
plains; it is a straggling and dirty place, but with some very good
houses. The principal building is the residence of Maharaja Gulab
Sing; at the time of my visit occupied by his eldest son. It is
situated on the edge of the cliff, overhanging the river, and commands
a fine view of the open valley of the Tawi below, and of the mountain
ranges to the north and east, the more distant of which were still
tipped with snow.
The outermost range of hills, which does not rise to any great
elevation, consists entirely of loose conglomerate coarsely
stratified, the beds dipping very gently towards the plains. The
boulders of which it is composed are waterworn, and very various in
composition, but all referable to the interior ranges; a few thin beds
of sand and of a clay resembling pipe-clay, are interposed between the
strata of conglomerate.
The very curious country through which I had been travelling since the
16th, had so much the appearance of a succession of valleys parallel
to the plains, and separated by long ranges of hills, that it was
difficult to avoid taking up that impression, which, notwithstanding,
I believe to be an erroneous one. The gentle slope of the different
tributaries which join the Tawi from the right and left, tends to keep
out of sight the longitudinal ranges parallel to that river, from
which the lateral ramifications proceed. When we obtain a detailed
survey of the district, it will be found that the lateral valleys on
each side of the Tawi do not correspond in direction, and are not
quite opposite to one another, and that the apparent uniformity is
caused by the great width of their valleys, when compared with the
elevation of the bounding ranges. The Sewalik sandstone here attains a
width of at least thirty miles, which is very much more than is found
further west.