CHAPTER XIV.

Start for Karakoram -- Steep ascent out of Nubra valley -- Meet

a party of Merchants from Yarkand -- View from summit of pass

-- Rapid torrent -- Large glacier -- Steep moraines -- Alpine

vegetation -- Numerous glaciers -- Lakes -- Glacier on crest of

Sassar pass -- Sassar -- Cross Shayuk river -- Murgai --

Limestone rocks -- Ascend Murgai Valley to 16,800 feet --

Singular limestone formation -- Open plain above 17,000 feet --

Re-cross Shayuk river -- Karakoram pass -- Return to Sassar --

Glaciers of Sassar -- Return to Le -- Start for Kashmir --

Lamayura -- Phatu pass -- Kanji river -- Namika pass -- Molbil

Pashkyum -- Kargil -- Dras -- Zoji pass -- Kashmir -- Lahore --

Completion of journey.

Having at last completed the preparations necessary for a journey of

twenty days through uninhabited regions, I started on the 9th of

August from the village of Taksha. My first day's journey lay up the

Nubra valley, which continued wide, though the alluvial platforms were

destitute of cultivation, and quite barren. In several places (always

opposite to ravines) they were covered with enormous boulders, which

had all the appearance of having been brought to the position they

occupied by glaciers. Two small villages were seen, both on the west

bank of the river. Four miles from Taksha I crossed, by a good wooden

bridge, a large stream which descended from the mountains on my right

hand through an exceedingly rocky gorge. After seven miles and

a half, I found that I had reached the point at which the road

followed by the merchants in travelling from Le to Yarkand leaves the

valley of Nubra. It was too late in the day to attempt the ascent of

the ridge to the right; I therefore encamped in a grove of willows,

which formed a belt along the margin of a stream whose bed was now

quite dry, its scanty supply of water having been diverted into an

artificial channel for the irrigation of a couple of fields of

indifferent barley not far off.

[Illustration: SKETCH MAP of Route from =NUBRA TO KARAKORAM=.

_by Dr. T. Thomson._]

In the valley of Nubra, beyond this encamping ground, which is known

by the name of Changlung, there are, I believe, only three small

villages, the most distant of which appeared to be not more than five

or six miles off. In the direction of the valley, which was still

north-north-west, very lofty mountains were visible at no great

distance, all with snowy tops, and generally with heavy snow-beds and

glaciers in their hollows; and according to the statement of my

guides, the river at the distance of less than two days' journey

issues from beneath a glacier, by which all passage is stopped[24].

[Sidenote: ASCENT OUT OF NUBRA VALLEY.

_August, 1848._]

On the 10th of August I started at daybreak, immediately commencing

the ascent of the mountain range which enclosed the valley on the

east. The mountain was exceedingly steep, indeed almost precipitous,

and the road proceeded in a zigzag direction over bare granite rock,

with scarce a vestige of vegetation. During the ascent I had a good

view of the valley, and of the mountain range which bounded it on the

south-west; large patches of snow lay on its peaks, and here and there

I saw a small glacier in its ravines. The upper part of the valleys by

which these mountains were furrowed had a very moderate slope, but

from about 14,000 feet down to the bottom they were extremely abrupt.

[Sidenote: YARKAND MERCHANTS.

_August, 1848._]

After about 3500 feet of extremely laborious climbing, I arrived at a

small level plain, perhaps two hundred yards long and forty or fifty

wide, evidently much frequented as a resting-place by travellers, a

small pool of water being the inducement. I here met a party of

merchants on their way from Yarkand to Le. Their goods were conveyed

by ponies, apparently much exhausted by their long journey through

desert country. I had noticed, on the way up the mountain, that the

road was lined by numerous skeletons and scattered bones of horses; I

had also seen one or two of the same animals recently dead, and the

appearance of these loaded ponies enabled me to understand the cause

of the great mortality. Many of the unfortunate animals appeared

scarcely to have strength to accomplish the few miles of descent which

still intervened between them and plenty of food. The main reliance of

the merchants for the support of their horses is on corn carried with

them, to which there must be a limit, otherwise they would carry

nothing but their own food.

[Sidenote: SUMMIT OF PASS.

_August, 1848._]

From this halting-place the remainder of the ascent was less abrupt,

though still steep and extremely stony. There was, however, a little

more vegetation than on the lower part, where the barren rocks, except

at the very base, produced scarcely anything but _Ephedra_, a dwarf

species of _Rhamnus_, and tufts of the hardy _Statice_. Higher up,

several species of _Astragalus_ and _Artemisia_ were plentiful, with

_Lithospermum euchromon_, _Dracocephalum heterophyllum_, and several

_Chenopodiaceæ_ and grasses. The top of the ridge had an elevation of

15,300 feet, but from its extreme aridity and rockiness, and its

consequent elevated temperature, no alpine plants occurred. On

reaching the top I was able to see something of the road before me,

regarding which I had previously had little information, except in

accounts of its extreme difficulty. These I had been inclined to

consider exaggerated, but the prospect before me was undoubtedly far

from tempting. Immediately below lay a narrow stony valley, to which,

from the spot on which I stood, the descent was almost perpendicular.

Opposite to me there was a range of mountains higher than that on

which I stood, with here and there a patch of snow. The valley below

me was partly occupied by a mass of loose alluvial conglomerate,

through which the stream had excavated a deep ravine; its direction

was south-south-west, and there could be no doubt that the stream

which I had crossed the day before, about half-way, was that which

drained the valley upon which I now looked down. On the top of the

alluvial platform, on the opposite side, there was a narrow strip of

green, indicating a small patch of cultivation, without, however, any

habitation, the crop being apparently left to its fate till ready for

the reaper. In every other direction, stones and snow were alone

visible.

[Sidenote: BARREN VALLEY.

_August, 1848._]

I descended obliquely into the valley, so as to reach it about a mile

and a half higher up than the spot from which it was first visible.

The descent was very laborious, a great part of it being covered with

loose gravel or coarse sand, produced by the disintegration of the

granite rocks. There was rather more vegetation than on the opposite

face, and I collected a number of plants which I had not recently met

with; a _Nepeta_, _Scrophularia_, _Cicer_, and _Heracleum_, and two

shrubby _Potentillæ_, were the commonest species. One of the species

of _Potentilla_ (_P. discolor_ of Jacquemont) was remarkable for

exciting violent sneezing when touched or shaken; this curious

property seemed to be owing to a very fine dust which covered the

under surface of the leaves.

After reaching the surface of the alluvial platform overhanging the

stream, about half a mile of gentle ascent among large stones brought

me, after a journey of ten miles, to my encamping ground. This was a

level spot, close to a lateral torrent, which had its source in a

snow-bed in the mountains on the left, and was rushing in a most

impetuous milk-white torrent over immense boulders, to unite itself to

the main stream. The elevation of my camp was about 14,000 feet.

On the morning of the 11th, at starting, I crossed the torrent close

to camp. Although much less considerable than it had been the previous

afternoon, still, from its great rapidity and the number of boulders

in its bed, the crossing was not accomplished without difficulty by

the laden animals, who carried the greater part of my baggage. I

crossed it myself by leaping from boulder to boulder, which would have

been quite impossible in the afternoon of the previous day, when it

was swollen by the action of the sun upon the snow. The road lay up

the valley parallel to the river, among a most extraordinary

accumulation of granite boulders of all sizes, from one to ten feet in

diameter, piled upon one another in vast heaps, and evidently

transported by a former glacier. After about half a mile, I crossed

the river by a wooden bridge of two or three beams, which must have

been brought from Nubra for the purpose, as no timber of any sort

grows in the valley. The stream was very rapid and muddy. A mile

further, a torrent descending from the mountains on the right was

crossed, and soon after I got upon the bank of the main stream, now

more tranquil and fordable. The road for the remainder of the march

lay along its left bank, over boulders and gravel, ascending now and

then a little way on steep sloping banks, entirely composed of

transported materials. I encamped on a level, somewhat grassy spot of

ground, which was evidently commonly used as a halting-place, having

travelled only four and a half miles, an unnecessarily short day's

work. I had throughout my journey had considerable difficulty in

fixing the marches at proper lengths, the inhabitants having no

measure of distance but the day's journey. In the present instance, my

tent was pitched, and most of the party had commenced to cook, or were

dispersed to collect fuel, long before my arrival, so that I was

obliged to rest content for the day.

[Sidenote: GLACIER.

_August, 1848._]

The course travelled during the day had been north-north-east, but I

had evidently arrived nearly as far as was practicable in that

direction, for about half a mile in front was the bluff end of a very

large glacier, filling up the continuation of the valley. This

glacier, which was nearly half a mile wide, was covered almost

entirely with stones and earth, very little of its surface being

visible, and the dirty black colour of its terminating cliff showing

how much soil had been mixed up with it in its progress. The elevation

of my tent was about 14,500 feet, and the termination of the glacier

may have been 250 feet higher. All around the mountains were very

lofty, their tops covered with snow, which nowhere came within 2000

feet at least of the valley, even on northern exposures. Granite was

everywhere the prevailing rock, but on the higher mountain slopes,

which were often precipitous, it was much intermixed with a dark rock,

probably clay-slate.

[Sidenote: ALPINE NETTLE.

_August, 1848._]

During the day I had scarcely seen any vegetation, except when close

to the edge of the stream. Among the boulders and on the bare stony

ground there was frequently not a vestige of herbage. Near one of the

ravines I found the white shrubby _Potentilla_, along with an

exceedingly pretty prostrate plant, with bright rose-coloured flowers,

belonging to the order of _Compositæ_: it was a species of the genus

_Allardia_, described by M. Decaisne from the collections of

Jacquemont, by whom it was found in Piti. One of the very few alpine

plants which I saw during the day was a little gentian, common among

the turf close to my tent. Round camp a species of nettle was

plentiful, seemingly, like others of the genus, attracted by the

nitrogenous nature of the soil of an encamping ground much frequented

by shepherds with their flocks. The sting of this nettle, though

rather faint, was quite perceptible. It was decidedly an alpine plant,

which is rather uncommon, not only in the genus, but the order to

which it belongs.

The journey of the 12th of August commenced by a steep ascent into a

lateral valley descending from the eastward. The hill-side up which I

climbed (apparently the bluff termination of an ancient moraine) was

very stony and dry. When a sufficient elevation above my encampment

had been gained, I obtained a commanding view of the glacier which

occupied the continuation of the main valley. It was nearly straight,

and, as I believe, at least five or six miles long; distances,

however, are so difficult to estimate on snow, that this must be

regarded as a mere guess. The inclination of its surface was

considerable; but, while the distance remained doubtful, no just

estimate of the height of the ridge from which it descended could be

made. On each side, two or three lateral glaciers, descending from the

mountains by which it was enclosed, contributed to increase its size,

all loaded with heaps of stones, which had at the lower end of the

central glacier so accumulated as completely to cover its whole

surface.

[Sidenote: MORAINES.

_August, 1848._]

After 800 or 1000 feet of ascent I found that I had attained the level

of the lateral valley, along which the road ran, and that the

remainder of the way was much more gentle, but exceedingly fatiguing,

from its excessive roughness, and from the great elevation, which made

the slightest exertion difficult. On both sides were high ranges of

mountains, which had much snow on their summits, and in one or two

ravines there was a small snow-bed or incipient glacier, but the

distance from the crest of the ridge not being great, no glacier of

any length was formed. On the left hand, the mountains were steeper

and higher than those on the right, and several bulky glaciers on

very steep slopes occupied their ravines. None of these entered the

valley along which my road lay, but their moraines often projected to

its very centre, forming immense piles of angular fragments of rocks,

which attained, in more than one place, a height of several hundred

feet, and indicated that the glaciers had at some former period

advanced much further than they now do. The main valley was itself

everywhere covered with boulders; in some places large blocks, ten to

twenty feet in diameter, were arranged at moderate distances from one

another, but more frequently the fragments were all small.

[Sidenote: SASSAR PASS.

_August, 1848._]

After the first steep ascent, the slope of the valley was uniformly

gentle, except when a steep-sided moraine had to be passed. Latterly a

few small patches of snow occurred in the valley. I encamped at 16,600

feet, on a level grassy spot of ground close to a small circular plain

resembling the bed of a lake, and still partially covered with snow.

The snow level on the mountains to the south had approached within

less than one hundred feet of the level of the plain. Though the

distance travelled during the day was only six miles, I felt a good

deal fatigued, and suffered much from headache, caused by the

rarefaction of the air.

From the great quantity of snow on the mountains all around, there had

been throughout the day an abundance of moisture, and vegetation was

in consequence much more plentiful than usual. The plants were all

alpine, and being mostly diminutive, had to be sought in the crevices

of rocks, and among the stones which everywhere abounded. The banks of

the stream were frequently grassy, and there was a great deal of

marshy ground. Most of the plants obtained were in full flower, and

the colours were in general very bright, and sufficiently varied. By

far the greater part belonged to the same genera which prevail on

European mountains, such as _Draba_, _Saxifraga_, _Sibbaldia_,

_Potentilla_, _Ranunculus_, _Papaver_, _Pedicularis_, _Cerastium_,

_Leontopodium_, and _Saussurea_. The most remarkable forms were three

species of _Allardia_, several _Astragali_, a one-flowered _Lychnis_,

_Delphinium Brunonianum_, and a _Ligularia_. The alpine nettle was

common on many parts of the road, chiefly near places frequented by

the shepherds as halting-places.

Next day at starting I proceeded along the edge of the small plain

close to which I had been encamped. On the right hand was an ancient

moraine, which prevented me from seeing the road in advance. At the

upper end of the plain I found a small streamlet running parallel to

the moraine; and about a mile from camp I reached the end of a small

glacier, from which the streamlet had its origin. Crossing the latter,

which was still partially frozen, I ascended in a deep hollow between

the left side of the glacier and the moraine. The icy mass had not yet

begun to thaw, the temperature being still below freezing. After half

a mile I ascended on the surface of the ice, and as soon as I did so,

was enabled to see that the glacier had its origin in a ravine on the

south, and entered the main valley almost opposite to me. The great

body of the ice took a westerly direction, forming the glacier along

which I had been travelling; but a portion formed a cliff to the

eastward, which dipped abruptly into a small, apparently deep lake. At

the distance of perhaps five hundred yards there was another glacier,

which descended from a valley in the northern range of mountains, and,

like the one on which I stood, presented a perpendicular wall to the

little lake. Right and left of the lake were enormous piles of

boulders, occupying the interval between its margin and the mountains,

or rather filling up a portion of the space which it would otherwise

have occupied. Into this very singular hollow I descended, on a steep

icy slope, and passing along the northern margin of the lake, ascended

on the glacier beyond; as before, between the ice and moraine.

On reaching the surface of the second glacier, I found that a similar

but smaller depression lay beyond it to the east, in which also there

was a small lake, with another mass of ice beyond it. This third

glacier also came from the north, and was a much more formidable mass

than those which had already been crossed. It was very steep, and was

covered with snow, which was beginning to thaw more than was

convenient. When at the highest part, I found that though apparently

nearly level, it sloped downwards sensibly, though very slightly for

nearly half a mile, in an easterly direction. It was evident that I

had now reached the highest part of the ascent, and that the crest of

the pass was covered by this glacier. I did not make any observation

to determine its altitude, but the ascent from camp was very moderate,

not, I think, exceeding a thousand feet. Assuming this estimate to be

correct, the height of the pass would be about 17,600 feet, which I

believe will prove not far from the truth.

On so icy an ascent vegetation could not be expected to be plentiful;

still, even in the depressions between the glaciers, the crevices

among the boulders produced a few plants, mostly the same as those

observed the day before, but three species of _Saussurea_ were the

most common of all. Before arriving at the first glacier, the

beautiful _Primula_ collected on the pass above Le was met with in

great abundance.

[Sidenote: SASSAR.

_August, 1848._]

For about half a mile, as I have said, the slope of the glacier was

just perceptible; beyond that distance the descent was abrupt. On

reaching the end of the level portion, I obtained an excellent view to

the eastward, in which direction a wide valley was seen at a distance

of several miles. Through this valley, from left to right, ran a

considerable river, which proved to be the Shayuk. Beyond the river,

rocky mountains were seen, apparently nearly as high as those near at

hand, and perfectly barren. In descending from the pass, I soon left

the surface of the ice, which, as soon as the slope became abrupt, was

too rugged to be walked over. I then got upon the moraine; about

half-way down, the glacier, which had latterly been almost entirely

covered with debris, came to an end, but a moraine continued a long

way down, and the remainder of the descent was very stony. I encamped

at about 15,400 feet on a dry gravelly plain, close to the broad

valley of the Shayuk, but at least 500 feet above it. To the right, in

a very deep ravine, was a small stream, on the banks of which were

patches of snow. The name of the ground on which I encamped, which is

a usual halting-place, was Sassar, and the Turki merchants call the

pass also by the same name.

[Sidenote: PLAIN OF SHAYUK RIVER.

_August, 1848._]

From Sassar not more than three or four miles of the upward course of

the river were visible, but within that distance three glaciers were

in sight. Two of these stopped short of the valley, while the third,

which was at the most distant point visible, appeared to descend to

the river. An enormous precipice, which must have been at least 3000

feet in height, rose on the opposite side of the valley beyond the

glaciers. Downward the valley of the Shayuk was seen for nearly ten

miles, as a wide gravelly plain, with high rugged mountains on both

sides.

On the morning after my arrival at Sassar, it was snowing slightly at

daybreak, and continued to do so till near noon. The snow melted

almost immediately on the level ground, but on the mountain-sides it

lay all day, down as low as the level of my tent. The afternoon was

dull and stormy, but no more snow fell. This unfavourable weather was

of less consequence, because I had determined to halt in order to make

fresh arrangements for my baggage, being advised not to take any

cattle beyond Sassar, the roads in advance being very bad. I

afterwards found that they were gravelly, which is more injurious than

even rock to the unprotected feet of the Tibetan bullock.

The gravelly sloping hills round my encampment were covered with

abundance of vegetation, but few of the species were alpine, and

almost all were familiar to me. A species of _Allium_, with purple

flowers and broad strap-shaped leaves, was the most plentiful of all.

_Thermopsis_ was frequent, in fruit; other common plants were species

of _Artemisia_, _Cynoglossum_, _Cicer_, and _Dracocephalum_. The only

new species were a very handsome dark purple _Nepeta_, which grew in

large tufts among loose shingle, and a tall _Saussurea_, by far the

largest species of the genus which I had found in Tibet, but I believe

one of those described from Jacquemont's collections. A species of

_Rheum_ occurred occasionally on dry stony places, but it was the same

which I had found several times before.

On the 15th of August I resumed my journey. The morning was misty,

with a few flakes of snow at intervals, and the sky remained overcast

all day, with high squalls of wind. My road lay across the Shayuk, but

I found it necessary to ascend about half a mile on the high bank

before I reached a place where it was possible to descend to its

gravelly plain, which was more than half a mile wide, and quite

destitute of any kind of vegetation. The river was running in several

channels, with an average depth of about a foot and a half; in one

place only it was as much as two feet. The current ran with

considerable rapidity.

On the opposite side of the plain of the Shayuk, I entered an

extremely narrow ravine, bounded by precipices of black slate, down

which ran a small stream, which crossed at every turn of the ravine

from one side to the other, generally close to the rocky wall, and had

to be forded a great number of times. After a mile and a half, the

road, suddenly quitting the ravine, turned to the right, and ascended

by a steep pathway to a wide, very gently rising plain, bounded on

both sides by snowy mountains. This plain was partly grassy, but

mostly composed of hard dry clay. In a few spots where snow appeared

recently to have lain, the clay was soft and treacherous, sinking

under the feet. About a mile's walk over this plain brought me to the

highest part of it, beyond which it began to slope to the eastward, at

first very gently but afterwards more rapidly. Many large isolated

boulders were observed on its surface. It was curious to observe that

the gravel produced by the disintegration of the mountains (chiefly, I

suppose, by snow-slips in winter) differed in colour on the two sides

of the valley, and that the line of demarcation followed very closely

the centre of the valley. The northern mountains, being granitic,

produced a hard quartzy gravel, while those to the south, which were

schistose, contributed a dark-coloured gravel of sharp slaty

fragments. On the lower part of the descent, a small rivulet made its

appearance in the centre of the plain, and I encamped, after nine and

a half miles, close to an open valley of considerable size, whose

course seemed to be south-east.

[Sidenote: MURGAI.

_August, 1848._]

This encamping-ground is called by the Turki merchants Murgai, by the

Tibetans, Murgo-Chumik; the former name being probably a corruption of

the latter. It was the last place at which I was to expect a

sufficiency of fuel, or even, with rare exceptions, of grass for my

horse, which, though not often used, I was unwilling to leave behind,

lest I should by any accident be disabled from walking. The

temperature of boiling water here indicated an elevation of about

15,100 feet, but as the weather was stormy and threatening, this was

probably several hundred feet more than the truth. A number of springs

appeared to break out of the ground close to my tent, where there was

a considerable extent of boggy pasture, much greener than is usual at

so great an elevation. A few bushes of _Myricaria elegans_ were the

only shrubs, but tufts of _Artemisia_ and _Eurotia_ were sufficiently

plentiful to produce an abundance of fuel. In the boggy meadow, a

pretty little species of _Primula_ was very abundant; the other plants

observed were a white _Pedicularis_, two species of _Triglochin_, and

some _Carices_ and grasses.

The morning of the 16th of August was bright and beautiful, the clouds

having been entirely dissipated during the night. The wide valley near

which I was encamped descended, as I was informed, to the Shayuk,

which it was said to join through a rocky gorge eight or ten miles

lower down than Sassar. Along its course the merchants are in the

habit of ascending at the season when the valley of the Shayuk is

followed all the way from Nubra, which is only practicable in early

spring and late in the autumn, at which times that river is fordable

throughout. It is a fortunate circumstance for the trade that there is

thus a choice of routes, for at these seasons the Sassar pass must be

in a great measure blocked up with snow.

[Sidenote: ASCENT OF

MURGAI VALLEY.

_August, 1848._]

On my arrival at Murgai, I had observed that the mountains to the

north were very precipitous, and had been puzzled to decide what

direction the road might take. On starting, however, I found that it

lay along the upward course of the stream which watered the valley

before me, and which here issued from the mountains through a very

narrow ravine with high precipices on both sides. At first I ascended

to the top of a platform of conglomerate which lay at the base of the

mountains. The ground was strewed with fragments of limestone,

evidently derived from the mountains above; and about half a mile from

camp I passed a calcareous spring which had deposited large quantities

of tufa throughout the whole of the space between its source and the

face of the precipice which overhung the river: the thickness of the

incrustation was, in front of the cliff, from six to eight feet. A

little further on, the road descended abruptly to the stream, and,

after crossing it several times within a few hundred yards, ascended

equally abruptly the steep stony slopes on its left bank, at a point

where its course, which had previously been nearly north, turned

rather suddenly to the eastward. On emerging from the ravine, two

small glaciers came in sight almost directly opposite, in branches of

a narrow and very deep gorge, which descended from the mountains to

the north nearly in the original direction of the ravine. The road

ascended to the height of at least 1000 feet, and then proceeded along

the steep slopes, alternately ascending and descending over very stony

ground, occasionally covered with loose limestone shingle. The stream

was visible below, running through a narrow rocky fissure.

After about a mile and a half, the road again descended to the river,

now a little wider, with a gravelly channel. Here I found that there

were two roads. One of these, for loaded animals, ascended steeply on

the north side, to the height of nearly 1000 feet, and again descended

very abruptly. The other was in the bed of the stream, which was

partially filled up with huge blocks of rock. The stream being almost

dry, I took the lower road, which for pedestrians was only

objectionable from its great roughness, and because it was necessary

to cross the rivulet occasionally. After about a quarter of a mile,

the ravine suddenly opened out into a gravelly plain nearly half a

mile in width, traversed by numerous branches of the little stream:

these were now almost dry, owing to the cloudy weather of the last few

days having in a great measure stopped the melting of the glaciers by

which they were supplied. Along this open plain I continued for nearly

five miles. In one place only it contracted again for a few hundred

yards into a gorge full of huge rocky masses heaped one on another, by

which it was apparently quite blocked up; this however was avoided by

a slight ascent among angular limestone fragments. On descending into

the plain again, I observed a very small patch of grassy ground on a

bank a few feet above the level of the stream, the only herbage seen

during the day. About a mile further on I encamped, after a march of

nine miles, on the south side of the plain, on a dry bank elevated

four or five feet above its gravelly bed. There was a sudden change in

the direction of the valley just at my encamping-ground, its further

course being in a direction west of north. The elevation of my tent

was very nearly 16,000 feet.

High, rugged, precipitous mountains, with snowy tops, rose on both

sides of the road during the whole of this day's journey. The rock

throughout the day was limestone, a few thin layers of slate excepted.

It varied much in colour, but was generally very dark and highly

crystalline, and often contained large masses of white calcareous

spar. It was distinctly stratified, and occasionally exhibited

obscure traces of what might be fossils, but which were too indistinct

to be relied upon. The principal mass of snow seen was nearly due

south of my encampment, but this was probably owing to the northerly

exposure of the mountains on that side. The vegetation observed during

the day was scanty in the extreme; _Eurotia_, a _Saussurea_ with very

viscid leaves, _Oxytropis chiliophylla_, and _Biebersteinia odora_

being almost the only plants on the stony slopes and shingle during

the first half of the way. On the gravelly plain there was no

vegetation at all, but on its margins a few scattered plants were

occasionally to be found, a _Pyrethrum_ and two or three _Cruciferæ_

being the species noted. The most remarkable plant observed during the

day was a species of _Alsine_ in dense hemispherical tufts, a foot or

more in diameter. This plant (the moss of Moorcroft's visit to Garu,

and of other travellers in and on the borders of Tibet) is a common

Tibetan plant at very great elevations, 16,000 feet being perhaps not

far from its lowest level[25].

On the 17th my road lay entirely along the gravelly plain in a

direction always considerably to the west of north. The plain

gradually narrowed as I advanced, and came to an end by contracting

into a rocky ravine, just as I halted for the day. The mountains on

the left were still very lofty; one glacier was seen on that side. On

the right the mountains were lower and quite without snow, but

extremely rugged and rocky. The slope of the valley was scarcely

perceptible, but I found at the end of my day's journey, which

amounted to twelve miles, that I had risen above 700 feet, the height

of my encampment being a little more than 16,700 feet. The day was

bright and sunny, and the stream, which, in the morning was quite

insignificant, not three feet wide and scarcely ankle-deep, had

increased much by the afternoon, and had become of a dirty red colour.

It was twenty feet wide, and a foot and a half deep, where I crossed

it just before halting. The vegetation was still more scanty than the

day before, though most of the plants then noted were again seen

occasionally. Small tufts of a little _Stipa_ were not uncommon,

constituting almost the only food for cattle, as patches of green

grass, a few feet in diameter, were only seen twice during the day.

Two very small _Saussureæ_ formed dense tufted masses on the surface

of the ground, and a little rose-coloured _Astragalus_ spread itself

prostrate over the gravel; indeed, this mode of growth seemed to be

characteristic either of the climate or soil, as I found, though

rarely, a species of _Myricaria_, with short thick wiry branches lying

flat on the ground and spreading into patches a yard in diameter.

[Sidenote: REMARKABLE LIMESTONE.

_August, 1848._]

Not far from the point where the direction of the valley changed so

suddenly, the blue or greyish massive but brittle limestone of the

higher mountains gave place to a rock of a very different appearance.

This was also a limestone, perfectly white, or with a very faint

yellowish or greyish tinge, and either quite amorphous, with a

saccharine texture, and often honeycombed, or composed of a congeries

of very minute crystals. Occasionally, but rarely, rolled pebbles

were seen in it. No traces of stratification were anywhere

discoverable, in which respect it differed very strikingly from the

limestone of the previous day, in which lines of stratification, much

contorted, were well seen in many sections exposed at different

heights. This remarkable limestone formed the rock on both sides of

the gravelly plain during the greater part of the day's journey. In

one place only metamorphic slate was seen below it, dipping at a high

angle to the north-east. The limestone was extremely brittle, and the

cliffs terminated above in sharp pinnacles of the most fantastic

shapes, while at the base they were covered with heaps of angular

debris[26]. A coarse conglomerate replaced the limestone during the

last mile previous to my encamping.

[Sidenote: ELEVATED PLAIN OF KARAKORAM.

_August, 1848._]

On the 18th of August, after following for a few hundred yards the

course of the stream through a narrow rocky gorge, the road turned

abruptly to the right, up a dry stony ravine, ascending rather

rapidly. The coarse conglomerate of the lower part of this ravine was

succeeded by a coarse sandstone, and that again by an incoherent

alluvial conglomerate with a clayey matrix. After a short distance,

the ravine widened out into a narrow, gravelly, moderately steep

valley, with low rounded hills on either side. By degrees, as I

increased my elevation, superb snowy mountains came in sight to the

south-west, and on attaining the top of the ascent an open, gravelly,

somewhat undulating plain lay before me, while behind a grand snowy

range was seen in perfection, forming apparently a continuous chain,

with a direction from south-east to north-west. The snow was to the

eye perfectly continuous in both directions as far as the mountains

were visible, and appeared everywhere to lie on the mountain-sides to

three and four thousand feet below their tops. As I had passed through

this apparent chain of mountains without rising above 16,000 feet, the

continuity of the snowy mass was of course a deception. Many very

lofty peaks rose above the others at intervals. The height of the more

distant ones I could not venture to estimate, but I felt at the time

fully convinced that a very high peak, just opposite to me, and

distant, according to bearings taken afterwards, about ten miles (in a

direct line) from the edge of the plain, was 6000 or 7000 feet higher

than the ground on which I stood, or at least 24,000 feet above the

level of the sea. I do not wish that any great degree of confidence

should be placed on this estimate, but I think it right that I should

state my impression at the time, formed without any wish to

exaggerate.

The stream along which I had ascended during the two last days lay in

a deep ravine far below the level of the plain. Its source was

evidently not far distant, and it issued no doubt from a large glacier

at the head of the gorge, though the slight upward slope of the plain

to the west prevented me from seeing its precise origin. In a

northerly direction the plain appeared to extend for six or seven

miles, and beyond it lay several ranges of mountains running from east

to west, but only very moderately patched with snow. Eastward the

plain diminished slightly in elevation for four or five miles, at

which distance there was a low range of hills, and immediately at

their foot a small stream apparently running to the northward. Beyond

these low hills were a number of lofty black peaks to the northward of

the great mass of snow, on the further side of which the country

probably dips to the eastward in the direction of Khoten. Every one of

my guides positively denied the existence of any road in that

direction; afraid, perhaps, that I might attempt to proceed by it; for

I learned afterwards, on my return to Le, from a merchant of Yarkand,

that there was an unfrequented path by which Khoten might be reached,

if the Chinese authorities were willing to permit it to be used.

My road lay across the open plain in a direction very little west of

north. The surface of the ground was covered with a few boulders and

many small pebbles, for the most part rolled, and very various in

composition; granite, greenstones of many sorts, amygdaloid,

limestone, and different-coloured slates, being all seen. Many of

these were encrusted with a calcareous concretion, and the whole plain

had the appearance of having formerly been the bed of a lake.

Skeletons and scattered bones of horses indicated with great exactness

the road across this arid tract, which seemed to be almost destitute

of either animal life or vegetation. The only living beings seen were

a few ravens, a hoopoe, and a small bird somewhat like a sparrow.

Tufts of the moss-like _Alsine_, referred to on the 17th, were the

only vegetation, except in the bed of a little rivulet near the middle

of the plain, which produced a few specimens of _Saussurea_ and

_Sibbaldia_. This streamlet rose in a large patch of snow about half

a mile to the westward, and ran towards the east, turning afterwards

nearly due north along the foot of a low range of hills mentioned

above. The elevation of its bed, which was the lowest part of the

table-land in the direction in which I crossed it, was 17,300 feet,

and the lowest part of the plain was immediately under the low hills

to the eastward, where it probably was about 17,000 feet.

There was no snow on the plain, except one patch close to its highest

part, in which the little rivulet had its source, and a very few

remnants on the shady side of a low undulating ridge, which crosses it

near its northern border. After about five miles, having been

ascending very gradually since leaving the banks of the stream, I

passed through an opening between two low gravelly hills, and found

myself looking down upon a wide valley, into which I descended very

gradually along a dry ravine. Passing a small patch of swampy, grassy

ground, at which I left my horse with a servant till my return, as

there was no food for him further on, I arrived, about two miles from

the point at which the valley just came in sight, at a small river

about thirty feet wide and ankle-deep, running from east to west.

According to the information of my guides, this was the river which

runs past Sassar,--in fact, the Shayuk. None of them had followed its

course, but they assured me that there was no doubt of the accuracy of

their statement, which indeed is confirmed by the fact (which I

mention on the authority of Yarkand merchants) that formerly

travellers used to ascend the Shayuk from Sassar, in order to reach

the Karakoram pass, instead of pursuing the circuitous route by which

I travelled; but that about ten or twelve years ago the glaciers above

Sassar descended so low as entirely to prevent any one passing in that

direction, for which reason it became necessary to adopt a new

road[27].

[Sidenote: SHAYUK RIVER.

_August, 1848._]

The course of the Shayuk was visible for several miles, running nearly

due west. Beyond that distance, it disappeared among rocky hills.

Fording the river, I ascended a steep bank, to get upon a stony

platform, over which I proceeded in a northerly direction, gradually

approaching a small stream which came from the north to join the

Shayuk. Passing a low rounded hill to the right, I descended after

about two miles into the ravine excavated by this little stream, and,

crossing it, encamped under low limestone rocks on its right bank

after a march of twelve miles. I did not ascertain the elevation of

this halting-ground, but, from the result of an experiment made at a

place which appeared nearly midway (in point of elevation) between it

and the bed of the Shayuk, where I got a boiling-point, indicating an

elevation of 17,000 feet, I estimate the bed of the river at 16,800

feet, and my encamping-ground of the 18th at 17,200 feet. The plain

all round seemed destitute of vegetation, so that, as on the two last

days, there was a great scarcity of fuel, which had to be collected

from a distance of many miles; and consisted only of the roots of a

small bushy _Artemisia_ or _Tanacetum_, which rose three or four

inches above the ground. During these three days, I suffered very

considerably from the effects of the rarefaction of the air, being

never free from a dull headache, which was increased on the slightest

exertion.

[Sidenote: KARAKORAM PASS.

_August, 1848._]

On the 19th of August, leaving my tent standing, I started to visit

the Karakoram pass, the limit of my journey to the northward. The

country round my halting-place was open, except to the north, where a

stream descended through a narrow valley from a range of hills, the

highest part of which was apparently about 3000 feet above me. All the

rivers had formed for themselves depressions in the platform of gravel

which was spread over the plain. At first I kept on the south bank of

the river close to which I had halted, but about a mile from camp I

crossed a large tributary which descended from the south-west, and

soon after, turning round the rocky termination of a low range of

hills, entered a narrow valley which came from a little west of

north-west. At the foot of the rocky point of the range were three

very small huts, built against the rock as a place of shelter for

travellers, in case of stormy or snowy weather; and bones of horses

were here scattered about the plain in greater profusion than usual.

[Sidenote: VEGETATION OF KARAKORAM

_August, 1848._]

I ascended this valley for about six miles: its width varied from 200

yards to about half a mile, gradually widening as I ascended. The

slope was throughout gentle. An accumulation of alluvium frequently

formed broad and gently sloping banks, which were cut into cliffs by

the river. Now and then large tracts covered with glacial boulders

were passed over; and several small streams were crossed, descending

from the northern mountains through narrow ravines. About eight miles

from my starting-point the road left the bank of the stream, and began

to ascend obliquely and gradually on the sides of the hills. The

course of the valley beyond where I left it continued unaltered,

sloping gently up to a large snow-bed, which covered the side of a

long sloping ridge four or five miles off. After a mile, I turned

suddenly to the right, and, ascending very steeply over fragments of

rock for four or five hundred yards, I found myself on the top of the

Karakoram pass--a rounded ridge connecting two hills which rose

somewhat abruptly to the height of perhaps 1000 feet above me. The

height of the pass was 18,200 feet, the boiling-point of water being

180·8°, and the temperature of the air about 50°. Towards the north,

much to my disappointment, there was no distant view. On that side the

descent was steep for about 500 yards, beyond which distance a small

streamlet occupied the middle of a very gently sloping valley, which

curved gradually to the left, and disappeared behind a stony ridge at

the distance of half a mile. The hills opposite to me were very

abrupt, and rose a little higher than the pass; they were quite

without snow, nor was there any on the pass itself, though large

patches lay on the shoulder of the hill to the right. To the south, on

the opposite side of the valley which I had ascended, the mountains,

which were sufficiently high to exclude entirely all view of the lofty

snowy mountain seen the day before, were round-topped and covered with

snow. Vegetation was entirely wanting on the top of the pass, but the

loose shingle with which it was covered was unfavourable to the growth

of plants, otherwise, no doubt, lichens at least would have been

seen. Large ravens were circling about overhead, apparently quite

unaffected by the rarity of the atmosphere, as they seemed to fly with

just as much ease as at the level of the sea.

The great extent of the modern alluvial deposit concealed in a great

measure the ancient rocks. At my encampment a ridge of very hard

limestone, dipping at a high angle, skirted the stream. Further up the

valley a hard slate occurred, and in another place a dark blue slate,

containing much iron pyrites, and crumbling rapidly when exposed to

the atmosphere. Fragments of this rock were scattered over the plain

in all states of decay. On the crest of the pass the rock _in situ_

was limestone, showing obscure traces of fossils, but too indistinct

to be determined; the shingle, which was scattered over the ridge, was

chiefly a brittle black clay-slate.

On my return no plants were met with till I had almost reached the

bank of the stream. The first species which occurred was a small

purple-flowered _Crucifera_ (_Parrya exscapa_ of Meyer). Throughout

the day the number of flowering plants observed was seventeen, of

which three were grasses, three _Saussureæ_, and two _Cruciferæ_;

there was also one species of each of the following genera, _Aster_,

_Nepeta_, _Gymnandra_, _Sedum_, _Lychnis_, _Potentilla_, and _Phaca_;

the dense-tufted _Alsine_, and a shrubby _Artemisia_ with yellow

flowers, complete the number. The only animals seen, besides ravens,

were a bird about the size of a sparrow, a bright metallic-coloured

carrion-fly, and a small dusky butterfly. Returning by the same road,

I arrived at my tent a little after sunset, the distance from the top

of the pass being about ten miles.

[Sidenote: MURGAI RIVER.

_August, 1848._]

While travelling at these great elevations the weather was uniformly

serene and beautiful. There was but little wind, and the sky was

bright and cloudless. At night the cold was severe, and the edges of

the streams were in the morning always frozen. On my return towards

Sassar I found that the bright sunny weather which had continued since

the 16th, had made a great alteration in the state of the stream in

the wide gravelly valley along which the road ran. It was now

impetuous and muddy, increasing considerably towards the afternoon,

when it ran in several channels, which were not always easily

fordable. In some places the gravel was throughout the whole width of

the plain saturated with water, and gave way under the feet, so that

it became necessary to ascend on the stony sloping banks on one side

or other, instead of following the centre of the valley. At Murgai, on

the evening of the 23rd of August, just after sunset, I felt three

slight shocks of an earthquake. On that day the weather again became

dull, and on the morning of the 24th there was a slight fall of snow

for about an hour.

The remarkable open plain to the south of the Karakoram pass occupies

a deep concavity in the great chain of the Kouenlun, which there

appears to form a curve, the convexity of which looks northward. The

main range to the eastward was distinctly visible, forming a range of

snowless, but certainly very lofty, black peaks beyond the sources of

the most eastern branch of the Shayuk; while the heavily-snowed

mountains, the summits of which were seen further east, were probably

also a part of the axis of the chain, which apparently bends round the

sources of the river of Khoten, or of some stream draining the

northern flanks of the Kouenlun. To the westward, no peaks rose behind

the snowy ridge which terminated the western branch of the Shayuk a

little west of the Karakoram pass, beyond which the surface probably

dips, while the axis of the Kouenlun bends to the southward, towards

the glaciers of the Nubra river.

[Sidenote: SNOW LEVEL.

_August, 1848._]

In crossing the open plain on my return towards Sassar, I had the

splendid snowy peaks to the south-west always in view, and was able to

form a tolerable estimate of their appearance and elevation. The range

was very heavily snowed, and from the lateness of the season but

little additional thaw could be expected. What seemed the highest peak

was very near, and its position could be determined by bearings with

little risk of error. It rose abruptly in the midst of a great mass of

snow, which filled the hollows and slopes of the range all around. The

surface of the plain over which I was travelling sloped very gently up

to the westward, and partly concealed the lower edge of the perpetual

snow on the mountains behind, the limit of which was, I think, between

17,500 and 18,000 feet. To the northward and eastward the snow-line

was certainly much higher. Here and there, where there was shade,

there were patches below 18,000 feet, but even up to 20,000 feet there

was no continuous snow. As the source of the snow-fall on these

mountains is no doubt the Indian Ocean to the south-west, the gradual

rise of the snow-level in advancing north-east, and the occurrence of

the highest peaks, and of the greatest mass of snow on branches of

the chain, and not on its main axis, are quite in accordance with what

is usually the case throughout every part of the Himalaya.

The occurrence of a nearly level plain, six or eight miles in

diameter, with a mean elevation of not less than 17,300 feet, is

certainly very remarkable. The ridge or watershed of the plain

appeared to me parallel to the deep ravine, excavated by the stream

along which I had travelled on the 17th of August, and at no great

distance from it, as the descent was abrupt. All the northern and

western part of this level tract was composed of loosely cohering

matters, and was possibly of lacustrine origin; but a much more

accurate acquaintance with the outline, structure, and elevation of

the plain will be necessary before any certain conclusion can be drawn

as to its age or origin.

[Sidenote: GLACIERS OF SASSAR.

_August, 1848._]

Before leaving Sassar, I visited the glaciers which descend into the

valley of the Shayuk, a little to the north of that place. The path at

first lay along the high platform on which I was encamped, which was

precipitous towards the Shayuk; it afterwards descended to the level

of the river, close to which I travelled for some distance over

enormous boulders. The bluff ends of two glaciers were seen high above

at the top of the precipitous alluvial bank, and after a walk of

upwards of three miles, I arrived at a most superb glacier, which,

descending a broad and deep valley in the mountains, and latterly in

the alluvial platform, entered the bed of the Shayuk at the bottom of

a deep bend, and fairly crossed the river, which flowed out below the

ice. On the opposite side of the river, the mountains were

precipitous a few hundred feet from the water's edge, but the stream

of ice did not extend to the foot of the precipice, but stopped a very

few feet up the opposite bank. I could of course only see the position

of the ice at the edge of the glacier: how far it extended in the

centre I could not tell.

The glacier was extremely rugged, being covered with huge sharp

pinnacles of ice, and I was obliged to ascend a long way parallel to

its side before I could find a place where it could be crossed. Near

its lower extremity it rose high above the surface of the plain, and

sloped rapidly down to the river: its sides were there scarped and

inaccessible, but higher up it lay in a deep hollow in the alluvial

conglomerate. A moment's reflection showed how impossible it was for

clay and boulders to resist the friction of such an enormous mass;

still I was much pleased to observe the glacier buried, as it were, in

a groove of its own forming, from the light which was thereby thrown

on the origin of the many broad, shallow, flat-bottomed valleys which

occasionally occur in the modern alluvial and lacustrine formations in

all parts of Tibet, as for instance at Karsar in Nubra, and at Bazgo

below Le. An ancient moraine, deposited at a period when the glacier

must have been much more bulky than it now is, skirted the edge of the

high bank of alluvium, and prevented the ice from being seen till

close at hand, and then only by mounting on the top of the pile of

boulders. Down this moraine, which on the face towards the glacier was

extremely steep and perhaps sixty feet high, I descended to the

surface of the present moraine. The descent required great caution,

many of the blocks being loose and easily displaced. When I had

reached the surface of the glacier, the passage was not difficult.

About a quarter of its width on each side was occupied by blocks of

stone; the centre was almost entirely ice, extremely irregular, and

here and there a little fissured. The pathway, which was only marked

by the footsteps of two men whom I had sent the day before to select a

place for crossing, at one time ascended to the top of a ridge of ice,

at another descended into a deep hollow. At the time I crossed (about

eleven A.M.) numerous streams of water had begun to flow in furrows on

the surface of the ice. The whole width was close upon half a mile,

and on the north side I ascended a steep moraine similar to that which

I had previously descended.

From the top of the bank on which the moraine rested, a second glacier

came in sight at the distance of a mile. My exploring party reported

that they had been unable to find a point at which this glacier could

be crossed, and as from the appearance of the mountains behind I felt

certain that after crossing it I should only arrive at a third, I did

not long persevere in trying to find a passage, but descended to its

extremity in order to see whether or not I could walk round it, as it

did not appear to enter the water. At the bottom of the valley it

spread out in a fan-shaped manner to the width of at least a mile;

perhaps indeed much more, for as I failed in getting round it, I was

unable to ascertain precisely. At its south-east corner, where it was

nearly a hundred yards from the river, a considerable stream, white

with suspended mud, was rushing out from beneath an arched vault of

ice, even before sunrise. To avoid fording this icy stream, the

margins of which were thickly frozen, I crossed with a good deal of

difficulty an angle of the end of the glacier. On its surface I found

several small moraines, which had sunk down into grooves ten or

fifteen feet deep, and had therefore been invisible from outside.

Further progress on the ice was stopped by cliffs which were not

accessible without ladders, so that I had to descend to the bank of

the Shayuk. I walked along between the ice and the river, till my

advance was stopped by the glacier fairly projecting into the water in

such a manner that I could not see anything of what lay beyond. The

icy wall being quite inaccessible, I could not get upon the surface of

the glacier to attempt to advance in that way, nor could I ford the

river, which was very deep.

The terminal cliff of the glacier varied in height from fifteen to

thirty feet, and a talus of large stones lay in front, evidently

deposited by it. Indeed, while I was there I saw several small stones

which projected from the face of the cliff, drop out by the melting of

the ice in which they were imbedded. Many cavities were seen in the

ice, from which large stones must have dropped out no longer ago than

the day before, and the stones which corresponded in size to them were

seen lying close at hand. Before I left the front of the glacier, the

heat of the sun having become considerable, rapid thaw had commenced;

rills of water trickled down its face in every direction, and the

sound of falling stones was to be heard on all sides. Now and then a

report as loud as that of a cannon was heard, caused, as I supposed,

by the fall of a very large boulder from one of the smaller glaciers,

which stopped abruptly at the top of the high cliff of alluvium.

Before quitting finally these magnificent glaciers, I ascended to a

height on the mountain-side in order to see whether or not there was

any lake in sight corresponding to that laid down, from information,

by Mr. Vigne as Nubra or Khundan Chu. The mountains were very steep

and stony, and were covered above 16,000 feet with snow, which had

fallen in a storm a few days before; I did not, therefore, get up to

any great elevation, probably not beyond 16,500 feet, but at that

height I could see nothing of the river beyond the second glacier,

though its course through the mountains could be traced distinctly

enough. It is, however, highly improbable that any permanent lake

exists. Such could, I think, only be formed by the stoppage of the

river by a glacier, an obstruction which could only be temporary, and

would inevitably be followed by a terrific inundation, such as is

known repeatedly to have devastated the valley of the Shayuk.

[Sidenote: RETURN TO LE.

_August, 1848._]

It had been my original intention, on my return from Karakoram, to

follow the course of the Shayuk all the way from Sassar to Nubra, but

on my return to the former place after visiting the pass, I found that

there was no probability of the road along the river being practicable

for at least three weeks, the depth of the stream, which requires

frequently to be forded, being still much too great; I was therefore

reluctantly compelled to return by the same route as that by which I

had reached Sassar. Early in September, I found the crops in Nubra

ripe, the barley being mostly cut; buckwheat and a few fields of

millet, however, were still quite green. The Shayuk had very

considerably diminished in size: one branch which in July had been

three feet deep was quite dry on the 6th of September. On the 11th of

that month I crossed the pass above Le, the state of which was a good

deal altered. The little lake, which on the 20th of July was still

frozen over, was now free of ice, nor was there any snow, except a

very few small patches, below the steep snow-bank on the northern

side. The snow, which had covered this steep descent, had melted away,

exposing a mass of ice, which was not crossed without a good deal of

difficulty and some little risk. Loaded cattle were unable to get to

the top of the pass till the afternoon. The snow on the south face had

almost entirely gone.

I reached Le just in time to escape some very unsettled weather,

during which snow fell on the mountains down to about 13,000 feet.

This was ushered in by very high wind, blowing in gusts from all

points of the compass. Heavy clouds formed, but always high: on the

14th there was a good deal of thunder, and during the following night

a smart shower of rain, which lasted about an hour.

The inhabitants were busy with the operations of harvest. A coarse

knife or rude sickle was employed to cut the wheat and barley as close

to the ground as possible; they were then tied into large bundles,

each sufficient for one load, which were carried (usually by women) to

the threshing-floors, not without considerable loss, from the ripeness

of the ears and the great bulk of the loads, which were rubbed against

every obstacle, particularly the narrow walls of the pathways between

the fields. The grain was trodden out of the ear by cattle and asses,

all muzzled, on small threshing-floors made of clay beaten hard. It

was then winnowed, by being gently shaken out of flat vessels held as

high as possible above the ground.

On the 15th of September I left Le for Kashmir. For five days my route

was the same as that by which I had travelled in July. On the fourth

day I reached Kalatze on the Indus, and on the 19th of September I

encamped at the village of Lama-Yuru, close to which the road from

Zanskar joins that along which I proposed to travel towards Dras. In

the valley of the Indus a great part of the vegetation was already

destroyed by the night frosts; _Chenopodiaceæ_ were now the most

numerous family, and these were rapidly ripening their seeds. In the

narrow ravine of the Wandla river, on the ascent to Lama-Yuru, I found

a few plants indicative of lower and hotter regions than those in

which I had lately been travelling: a little wiry _Lactuca_ with

decurrent leaves, a spathulate-leaved _Statice_, and a small

_Hyoscyamus_, all plants of the neighbourhood of Iskardo, were those

which I noted.

[Sidenote: PHATU PASS.

_September, 1848._]

On the 20th of September I crossed the Phatu pass, stated by Moorcroft

to be 14,000 feet above the sea, but which Major Cunningham has

ascertained to be only about 13,500 feet. The discrepancy is probably

owing to some error in Moorcroft's manuscripts, from which the

elevations given in his work were calculated by Professor Wilson. In

the neighbourhood of Lama-Yuru lacustrine clay occurs in great

abundance, and the ascent to the summit of this pass was gentle, up a

gravelly valley, which was full of alluvium, almost to the very

summit. The pass did not nearly attain the elevation requisite for

alpine vegetation, still the flora was a good deal altered; two

large-flowered thistles, _Caragana versicolor_, and several species of

_Umbelliferæ_ were observed, none of which had occurred in the hills

to the north of the Indus; the prickly _Statice_ was also common, but

the _Chenopodiaceæ_ of the Indus valley had entirely disappeared. The

descent along the Kanji river to Karbu, at which I encamped, was long

and gradual, down a wide valley skirted by gently sloping hills,

which, at some distance on the left, rose into high mountains, but on

the right attained only a moderate elevation, the Indus being at no

great distance. Alluvium occurred throughout the descent, latterly

indurated into a coarse conglomerate.

[Sidenote: NAMIKA PASS.

_September, 1848._]

From Karbu I marched on the 21st to Molbil, crossing the Namika pass.

The previous night had been very threatening, with violent wind, and

at daybreak all the hills around were covered with snow; it was still

snowing slightly, but none lay in the valley, and before nine o'clock

it cleared, and the remainder of the forenoon was tolerably fine. For

two miles I followed the banks of the Kanji river; afterwards the road

turned to the left to ascend a clayey valley, to the rounded summit of

a ridge separating that river from the Pashkyum on the left. The pass

has been determined by Major Cunningham, who crossed it in October,

1847, to be 12,900 feet above the sea. The descent was long, but not

rapid after the first mile. The upper part was desert, but lower down

villages were frequent and cultivation extensive. At first the rocks

were clay-slate, but these were replaced in the lower part by a hard

limestone; alluvium was everywhere plentiful, forming, near Molbil,

table-topped platforms of indurated conglomerate, horizontally

stratified, and faced towards the stream by scarped cliffs. The

afternoon was again stormy, and a good deal of rain fell during the

night.

[Sidenote: PASHKYUM.

_September, 1848._]

Next day I made a long march to Pashkyum, following the course of the

river of that name. The descent was very gradual, and the road varied

much in character, the valley being sometimes open, at other times

narrow and rocky. The villages increased in numbers as the elevation

diminished, and latterly for several miles cultivation was continuous.

Pashkyum is not more than 8600 feet above the sea, and accordingly the

season was much less advanced than it had been three and four thousand

feet higher, the weather being much milder, and the summer heat no

doubt much more considerable than in the neighbourhood of Le. The

crops had long been cut, except the buckwheat, the fields of which

were however quite ripe; the plants were being plucked up by the roots

and laid down separately in the fields to dry, previous to removal to

the threshing-floor.

A remarkable change had taken place in the appearance of the country

during this day's journey. The banks of the river were frequently

shaded with immense willows, and the trees of the cultivated lands

were numerous and of great size. Many new forms of plants were also

seen, though the general character of the flora was unaltered. Shrubby

_Artemisiæ_ were extremely plentiful, and the _Perowskia_, _Ballota_,

_Echinops_, and _Iris_ of the Indus valley were very abundant. The new

plants were all species of Kashmir or Iskardo, such as _Verbascum

Thapsus_, _Lappa_, _Valeriana_, _Swertia_, and _Gentiana

Moorcroftiana_. _Trifolium repens_ and _fragiferum_ grew in the

pastures close to the river, and tropical species of _Setaria_ and

_Amaranthus_ were common weeds in the corn-fields.

[Sidenote: SINGULAR SANDSTONE FORMATION.

_September, 1848._]

In the immediate neighbourhood of Pashkyum the rocks consist of

coarse-grained grey or white sandstones, often containing small

water-worn pebbles, and alternating with dark crumbling pyritiferous

shales. These rocks, which dip to the east or south-east, at an angle

of not more than 15°, rise on the north side of the valley to the

summit of a long sloping ridge, which appears to overhang the Indus.

As these sandstones and shales contained, so far as I could observe,

no fossils, their age is a matter of complete uncertainty. They were

quite independent of the modern lacustrine formation, patches of

which, perfectly horizontally stratified, and therefore unconformable

to the other, were seen in several places resting on the sandstone.

These sandstones perhaps reach as far as the Indus, but I was not able

to determine how far they extended to the southward, in which

direction high and rugged mountains, now covered with snow, skirted

the valley at a distance of a few miles.

[Sidenote: KARGIL.

_September, 1848._]

On the 23rd of September, I followed the Pashkyum river to its

junction with that of Dras. Crossing, at starting, to the left bank of

the river, the road lay for a mile through cultivated lands; it then

ascended to a platform of alluvium, which blocked up the valley, while

the river disappeared in a narrow ravine far to the right. Five miles

from Pashkyum, I descended very abruptly from this elevated plain, to

the village of Kargil, where the Pashkyum river is joined by a large

stream from Suru, called by Moorcroft the Kartse; which I crossed by a

good wooden bridge, close to a small fort, occupied by a Thannadar

with a small party of soldiers. The cultivated lands of Kargil, which

is elevated about 8300 feet, are extensive and well wooded; but

immediately below, the valley becomes narrow and rocky, and continues

so for more than a mile, till the stream joins the Dras river. Nearly

due south of Kargil the stratified rocks of the mountains are replaced

by igneous rocks, and the point of contact of the two is well marked

on the precipitous face of a lofty peak. At first the igneous rock was

dark and resembling greenstone, but it soon changed to granite, which,

as I had observed in April, occurs everywhere in the valley of Dras,

below Karbu.

I encamped on the right bank of the Dras river, about a mile above the

village of Hardas. Henceforward my route was the same as I had

travelled in April. On the 24th I travelled to Tashgong, and on the

25th I arrived at Dras. In most parts of the valley I found a great

deal of alluvium, but I saw none of the fine clay which is

characteristic of the purely lacustrine strata above the village of

Bilergu, where I had observed it in April. Gravelly conglomerate was

everywhere the prevailing form,--sometimes indurated, but generally

soft and shingly. Most of these deposits were unstratified, but

distinct stratification was far from uncommon. The alluvium often

capped low hills in the open valley many hundred feet above the bed of

the river, and it was observed at frequent intervals in every part of

the valley, from the junction of the Pashkyum river to Dras itself.

[Sidenote: ALLUVIUM OF DRAS.

_September, 1848._]

The great extent and remarkable forms of alluvium which I had seen in

the district through which I had travelled, between Kalatze and Dras,

induced me to note with care the position and composition of the

alluvial beds of the Dras valley. The known low elevation of the Zoji

pass, between Dras and Kashmir, which is only 11,300 feet above the

sea, made the great extent and continuity of these deposits very

remarkable, and with difficulty explicable, unless on the supposition

of the existence of a series of lakes separated from one another by

extensive accumulations of alluvium, now to a great extent removed by

denudation. The lacustrine clays of lower Dras, about Ulding, appear

continuous with those of the Indus valley about Tarkata, but the clays

of Pashkyum, which are separated from them by a very thick mass of

alluvium, which occupies that part of the Dras and Pashkyum rivers

immediately above the junction of the two, may have been deposited in

an isolated lake. Further east again, at Lamayuru, there are beds of

pure clay as high as the summit of the Zoji pass, so that the alluvial

beds of the upper part of the Phatu ridge must have separated the lake

in which these were deposited from the more western waters, which (it

may be conjectured) at the same time covered the whole of the valley

of Molbil and Pashkyum.

The vegetation of Dras was still very Tibetan, but transitional forms

were becoming frequent. The _Chenopodiaceæ_ (except _Eurotia_) had all

disappeared, but _Artemisiæ_ and _Umbelliferæ_ were very abundant. The

new forms were all Kashmirian, and indicated a considerable increase

of humidity: a small white-flowered balsam was observed not far from

Hardas, and _Prunella_, _Thymus Serpyllum_, an _Achillea_, _Senecio_,

_Galium_, and _Silene inflata_ were all seen below the fort of Dras.

At that place the harvest was but just over; indeed, a field or two of

wheat were still uncut.

[Sidenote: MATEN.

_September, 1848._]

On the 26th of September, I marched to Maten, along a road which, in

April, had been entirely covered with deep snow. Part of the road was

rocky, but in general the valley was open. During this day's journey,

a very great change took place in the vegetation. Hitherto, Kashmirian

plants had been the exception, the greater part of the species being

Tibetan; to-day the reverse was the case, most of the plants seen

being those common in the comparatively moist climate of Kunawar, or

species new to me, but belonging to families or genera which inhabit a

more humid climate than Tibet. Groves of dwarf willows lined the banks

of the stream, and nearly sixty species of plants not observed in

Tibet were collected during the day. _Vitis_, _Aconitum_, _Hypericum_,

_Vernonia_, a prickly juniper, _Convallaria_, and _Tulipa_, may be

selected as illustrative of the greatness of the change, which was

particularly interesting from its suddenness. Numerous Tibetan forms

no doubt still lingered, but principally such as extend into Kashmir.

At Maten the barley was still uncut, notwithstanding that it is

upwards of a thousand feet lower than Le, at which place harvest was

nearly over at the time of my departure.

[Sidenote: ZOJI PASS.

_September, 1848._]

There can be no doubt that the sudden alteration in the character of

the vegetation is due to the great depression in the chain separating

Tibet from Kashmir, at the Zoji pass, which is far below the usual

level of the lowest parts of these mountains. The access of a great

amount of humidity, which would have been condensed if the

moisture-bringing winds had been obliged to pass over a lofty chain,

makes the autumn partially rainy, and frequently cloudy, thereby

diminishing the action of the sun's rays, and lowering the mean

temperature of the summer.

On the 27th of September, I crossed the pass of Zoji La, which had now

a very different aspect from that which it had presented in April.

From Maten the road lay up a wide open valley with a scarcely

perceptible ascent, generally along the edge of a small stream, but

occasionally on the slope of the hill-sides. The valley was flat and

often swampy; but the mountains on both sides, more particularly on

the left, were high and abrupt, not unfrequently precipitous. On that

side there were in most of the ravines large patches of snow, and in

one there was a fine glacier, which stopped abruptly within a hundred

yards of the main valley. Latterly a few patches of snow lay even in

the open valley. The vegetation was almost entirely Kashmirian, not

more than six or seven out of about 110 species being otherwise; the

hill-sides were covered with brushwood, at first of willow and prickly

juniper, but latterly principally of birch.

Five or six miles from Maten, the main branch of the stream was found

to descend from a narrow ravine on the left, at the head of which

there was perhaps a glacier. In the valley along which the road lay,

there was scarcely any water in the bed of the stream, and about a

mile further on, without any increase in the inclination, I came to a

large patch of dirty snow, beyond which there was a very evident slope

to the southward. The boiling-point of water here indicated an

elevation of 11,300 feet. A few hundred yards further, I arrived at a

large pond (it could hardly be called a lake), into which a very small

rill of water was trickling from the north, while from the opposite

end a stream ran towards the south. This little lake was not, as I had

expected, on the crest of the pass, but undoubtedly on the Kashmirian

side of it.

[Sidenote: BALTAL.

_September, 1848._]

Beyond the lake, the descent became steep, and the valley contracted

into a rocky ravine, full of snow, under which the little stream

disappeared. The road was at first on the left side of the valley, but

crossed on the snow at the commencement of the contracted part, and

ascended rather abruptly a steep hill on the right through a very

pretty grove of birch. The top of this steep ascent is usually

considered by travellers as the pass, and is the place to which the

name Zoji La properly belongs. The point of separation of the waters

must of course, for geographical purposes, be considered as the actual

pass, but this ridge, which, if not actually higher, is at all events

on a level with it, and has in addition a steep ascent on both sides,

has not unnaturally had that honour assigned to it. On reaching the

shoulder of the ridge, the valley of Baltal came in sight, presenting,

in the words of Moorcroft, "as if by magic, a striking contrast in its

brown mountains and dark forests of tall pines to the bare rocks and

few stunted willows to which we had so long been accustomed." The

sight of a forest is certainly a great source of gratification to a

traveller who has been long in Tibet; but the pleasing effect of the

view from the Zoji pass is not owing merely to contrast; as the

traveller looks down upon the bed of Sind river, more than 2000 feet

below, and the forest in the valley is not too dense, but interspersed

with open glades, while beyond rise high mountains tipped with snow. I

do not think that I have anywhere in the Himalaya seen a more

beautiful scene than that which then lay before me; but the effect was

enhanced by the recollection of the appearance of the same spot in

April, when the whole landscape was covered with snow, and I descended

from the summit of the pass on a snow-bank which filled up the now

inaccessible ravine, on account of which I was obliged to make a long

detour. The descent was extremely abrupt, through a pretty wood, down

to a log hut built for the accommodation of travellers a few hundred

yards from the river, at an elevation of 9,200 feet.

The flora of the Sind valley at Baltal was very rich: the forest

consisted chiefly of pine, poplar (_P. ciliata_), birch, and sycamore,

intermixed with underwood of _Ribes_, _Berberis_, _Viburnum_,

_Lonicera_, and _Salix_. The herbaceous vegetation had all that

excessive luxuriance which characterizes the subalpine forests of the

Himalaya at the end of the rainy season. Gigantic _Compositæ_,

_Labiatæ_, _Ranunculaceæ_, and _Umbelliferæ_ were the prevailing

forms. There were several large patches of snow in the bed of the

lateral torrent which descended from Zoji La, as low down as the log

hut; and it was not a little curious to observe, that in spots from

which the snow had only recently melted, the willows were just

beginning to expand their buds, and the cherry, rhubarb, _Thalictrum_,

_Anemone_, _Fragaria_, and other plants of early spring, were in full

flower.

[Sidenote: KASHMIR.

_October, 1848._]

In descending the Sind valley towards Kashmir, my route was the same

by which I had travelled in April. The mountains on the left were

extremely precipitous and heavily snowed, and in a ravine a little

below Sonamarg a glacier descended almost to 9000 feet. The lower part

of the valley was one sheet of cultivation, chiefly of rice, which was

almost ripe. In the neighbourhood of Kashmir, where I arrived on the

5th of October, the season of vegetation was almost at an end; species

of _Nepeta_, _Eryngium_, _Daucus_, _Centaurea_, _Carpesium_, and

several _Artemisiæ_ being the most remarkable of the herbaceous plants

remaining. In the lake there were vast groves of _Nelumbium_ leaves,

but the flowers and fruit were both past; _Salvinia_ was everywhere

floating in great abundance; while the other aquatic plants were

species of _Bidens_, _Stachys_, _Mentha_, _Scutellaria_, _Hippuris_,

and _Typha_, all European or closely resembling European forms.

Besides rice, which constitutes the staple crop of the valley, the

principal grains cultivated in autumn appeared to be different kinds

of millet, and a good deal of maize; Indian species of _Phaseolus_

also were common, now nearly ripe. The wheat and barley, which are

much earlier, were already above ground. I saw a few fields of

_Sesamum_ (the _Til_ of India), and in drier spots a good deal of

cotton, which was being picked by hand, but appeared a poor stunted

crop, much neglected.

On the high platforms between Pampur and Avantipura the saffron was in

flower, and its young leaves were just shooting up. This crop seems a

very remunerative one to the Raja, who retains the monopoly in his own

hands, compelling the cultivators to sell the produce to him at a

fixed price. The bulbs are allowed to remain in the ground throughout

the year, and continue in vigour for eight or ten years, after which

the produce diminishes so much in quantity that the beds are broken

up, and the bulbs separated and replanted. The flowers are picked

towards the end of October, and carried into the town of Kashmir,

where the stigmas are extracted.

Another very important product of Kashmir is hemp, which grows

spontaneously along the banks of the river, forming dense thickets

often twelve and fifteen feet in height, and almost impenetrable. It

is only used in the manufacture of an intoxicating drink, and for

smoking; and the plant is preserved entire, in store-houses, in the

town of Kashmir, till required for consumption.

From Kashmir I proceeded towards the plains of the Punjab by the same

route by which I had travelled in May. During my absence in Tibet, the

second Sikh war had broken out, and as it was then at its height, it

was not easy to reach the British territories. I was therefore

detained a good while, first in Kashmir, and afterwards at Jamu, and

did not reach Lahore till the 16th of December.

FOOTNOTES:

[24] Two months later, Captain Strachey ascended the Nubra valley till

stopped by this glacier, which appears to be on a still more gigantic

scale than those of the Shayuk to the eastward.

[25] Excellent specimens of this singular alpine plant, each tuft of

which must, I think, represent the growth of centuries, may be seen in

the Museum of the Royal Gardens at Kew, collected by Dr. Hooker in

Eastern Tibet.

[26] I have no conjecture to offer regarding the age or nature of this

very remarkable rock.

[27] The itinerary of Mir Izzet Ullah shows that at the time of his

journey from Le to Yarkand the direct road up the Shayuk was still

open.