Himalayan Journals, vol 2 by J. D. Hooker (great reads TXT) 📖

>a.m.: little snow or rain fell, but thin mists and drizzle prevailed; less than one inch and a half of rain was collected, though upwards of eleven fell at Calcutta, and rather more at Dorjiling.

The mornings were sometimes fine, cold, and sunny, with a north wind which had blown down the valley all night, and till 9 a.m., when the south-east wind, with fog, came on. Throughout the day a north

current blew above the southern; and when the mist was thin; the air sparkled with spiculae of snow, caused by the cold dry upper current condensing the vapours of the lower. This southern current passes

over the tops of the loftiest mountains, ascending to 24,000 feet,

and discharging frequent showers in Tibet, as far north as Jigatzi, where, however, violent dry easterly gales are the most prevalent.

The equinoctial gales set in on the 21st, with a falling barometer, and sleet at night; on the 23rd and 24th it snowed heavily, and being unable to light a fire at the entrance of my tent, I spent two

wretched days, taking observations; on the 25th it cleared, and the snow soon melted. Frosty nights succeeded, but the thermometer only fell to 31 degrees once during the month, and the maximum once rose to 62.5 degrees. The mean temperature from the 9th to the 30th

September was 41.6 degrees,* [The result of fifty-six comparative

observations between Calcutta and Momay, give 40.6 degrees

difference, which, after corrections, allows 1 degree Fahr. for every 438 feet of ascent.] which coincided with that of 8 a.m. and 8 p.m.; the mean maximum, 52.2 degrees, minimum, 34.7 degrees, and consequent range, 17.5 degrees.* [At Dorjiling the September range is only 9.5

degrees; and at Calcutta 10 degrees.] On seven nights the radiating thermometer fell much below the temperature of the air, the mean

being 10.5 degrees and maximum 14.2 degrees; and on seven mornings

the sun heated the black-bulb thermometer considerably, on the mean to 62.6 degrees above the air; maximum 75.2 degrees, and minimum, 43

degrees. The greatest heat of the day occurred at noon: the most

rapid rise of temperature (5 degrees) between 8 and 9 a.m., and the greatest fall (5.5 degrees), between 3 and 4 p.m. A sunk thermometer fell from 52.5 degrees to 51.5 degrees between the 11th and 14th,

when I was obliged to remove the thermometer owing to the accident

mentioned above. The mercury in the barometer rose and fell

contemporaneously with that at Calcutta and Dorjiling, but the amount of tide was considerably less, and, as is usual during the

equinoctial month, on some days it scarcely moved, whilst on others it rose and fell rapidly. The tide amounted to 0.062 of an inch.

On the 28th of the month the Singtam Soubah came up from Yeumtong, to request leave to depart for his home, on account of his wife's

illness; and to inform me that Dr. Campbell had left Dorjiling,

accompanied (in compliance with the Rajah's orders) by the Tchebu

Lama. I therefore left Momay on the 30th, to meet him at Choongtam, arriving at Yeumtong the same night, amid heavy rain and sleet.

Autumnal tints reigned at Yeumtong, and the flowers had disappeared from its heath-like flat; a small eatable cherry with a wrinkled

stone was ripe, and acceptable in a country so destitute of fruit.*

[The absence of Vaccinia (whortleberries and cranberries) and

eatable Rubi (brambles) in the alpine regions of the Himalaya is

very remarkable, and they are not replaced by any substitute.

With regard to Vaccinium, this is the more anomalous, as several

species grow in the temperate regions of Sikkim.] Thence I descended to Lachoong, on the 1st of October, again through heavy rain, the

snow lying on the Tunkra mountain at 14,000 feet. The larch was

shedding its leaves, which turn red before they fall; but the annual vegetation was much behind that at 14,000 feet, and so many late

flowerers, such as Umbelliferae and Compositae, had come into

blossom, that the place still looked gay and green: the blue climbing gentian (Crawfurdia) now adorned the bushes; this plant would be a great acquisition in English gardens. A Polygonum still in flower here, was in ripe fruit near Momay, 6000 feet higher up the valley.

On the following day I made a long and very fatiguing march to

Choongtam, but the coolies were not all able to accomplish it.

The backwardness of the flora in descending was even more conspicuous than on the previous day: the jungles, at 7000 feet, being gay with a handsome Cucurbitaceous plant. Crossing the Lachoong cane-bridge, I paid the tribute of a sigh to the memory of my poor dog, and reached my old camping-ground at Choongtam by 10 p.m., having been marching rapidly for twelve hours. My bed and tent came up two hours later,

and not before the leeches and mosquitos had taxed me severely.

On the 4th of October I heard the nightingale for the first time

this season.

Expecting Dr. Campbell on the following morning, I proceeded down the river to meet him: the whole valley was buried under a torrent or

debacle of mud, shingle, and boulders, and for half a mile the stream was dammed up into a deep lake. Amongst the gneiss and granite

boulders brought down by this debacle, I collected some actinolites; but all minerals are extremely rare in Sikkim and I never heard of a gem or crystal of any size or beauty, or of an ore of any

consequence, being found in this country.

I met my friend on the other side of the mud torrent, and I was truly rejoiced to see him, though he was looking much the worse for his

trying journey through the hot valleys at this season; in fact, I

know no greater trial of the constitution than the exposure and hard exercise that is necessary in traversing these valleys, below 5000

feet, in the rainy season: delay is dangerous, and the heat, anxiety, and bodily suffering from fatigue, insects, and bruises, banish

sleep, and urge the restless traveller onward to higher and more

healthy regions. Dr. Campbell had, I found, in addition to the

ordinary dangers of such a journey, met with an accident which might have proved serious; his pony having been dashed to pieces by falling over a precipice, a fate he barely escaped himself, by adroitly

slipping from the saddle when he felt the animal's foot giving way.

On our way back to Choongtam, he detailed to me the motives that had led to his obtaining the authority of the Deputy-Governor of Bengal (Lord Dalhousie being absent) for his visiting Sikkim. Foremost, was his earnest desire to cultivate a better understanding with the Rajah and his officers. He had always taken the Rajah's part, from a

conviction that he was not to blame for the misunderstandings which the Sikkim officers pretended to exist between their country and

Dorjiling; he had, whilst urgently remonstrating with the Rajah,

insisted on forbearance on my part, and had long exercised it

himself. In detailing the treatment to which I was subjected, I had not hesitated to express my opinion that the Rajah was more

compromised by it than his Dewan: Dr. Campbell, on the contrary, knew that the Dewan was the head and front of the whole system of

annoyance. In one point of view it mattered little who was in the

right; but the transaction was a violation of good faith on the part of the Sikkim government towards the British, for which the Rajah,

however helpless, was yet responsible. To act upon my representations alone would have been unjust, and no course remained but for Dr.

Campbell to inquire personally into the matter. The authority to do this gave him also the opportunity of becoming acquainted with the

country which we were bound to protect, as well by our interest as by treaty, but from which we were so jealously excluded, that should any contingency occur, we were ignorant of what steps to take for

defence, and, indeed, of what we should have to defend.

On the 6th of October we left Choongtam for my second visit to the

Kongra Lama pass, hoping to get round by the Cholamoo lakes and the Donkia pass. As the country beyond the frontier was uninhabited, the Tchebu Lama saw no difficulty in this, provided the Lachen Phipun and the Tibetans did not object. Our great obstacle was the Singtam

Soubah, who (by the Rajah's order) accompanied us to clear the road, and give us every facility, but who was very sulky, and undisguisedly rude to Campbell; he was in fact extremely jealous of the Lama, who held higher authority than he did, and who alone had the Rajah's

confidence.

Our first day's march was of about ten miles to one of the

river-flats, which was covered with wild apple-trees, whose fruit,

when stewed with sugar, we found palatable. The Lachen river, though still swollen, was comparatively clear; the rains usually ceasing, or at least moderating, in October: its water was about 5 degrees colder than in the beginning of August.

During the second day's march we were stopped at the Taktoong river by the want of a bridge, which the Singtam Soubah refused to exert

himself to have repaired; its waters were, however, so fallen, that our now large party soon bridged it with admirable skill. We encamped the second night on Chateng, and the following day made a long march, crossing the Zemu, and ascending half-way to Tallum Samdong.

The alpine foliage was rapidly changing colour; and that of the

berberry turning scarlet, gave a warm glow to the mountain above the forest. Lamteng village was deserted: turnips were maturing near the houses, and buckwheat on the slope behind; the latter is a

winter-crop at lower elevations, and harvested in April. At Zemu

Samdong the willow-leaves were becoming sear and yellow, and the

rose-bushes bore enormous scarlet hips, two inches long, and covered with bristles; they were sweet, and rather good eating. Near Tungu

(where we arrived on the 9th) the great Sikkim currant was in fruit; its berries are much larger than the English, and of the same

beautiful red colour, but bitter and very acid; they are, however,

eaten by the Tibetans, who call them "Kewdemah."

Near the village I found Dr. Campbell remonstrating with the Lachen Phipun on the delays and rude treatment I had received in June and

July: the man, of course, answered every question with falsehoods,

which is the custom of these people, and produced the Rajah's orders for my being treated with every civility, as a proof that he must

have behaved as he ought! The Singtam Soubah, as was natural, hung

back, for it was owing to him alone that the orders had been

contravened, and the Phipun appealed to the bystanders for the truth of this.

The Phipun (accompanied by his Larpun or subordinate officer) had

prepared for us a sumptuous refreshment of tea soup, which was

brewing by the road, and in which all animosities were soon washed

away. We took up our abode at Tungu in a wooden but under the great rock, where we were detained for several days by bad weather. I was assured that during all August and September the weather had been

uniformly gloomy, as at Momay, though little rain had fallen.

We had much difficulty in purchasing a sufficient dumber of blankets*

[These were made of goat's wool, teazed into a satiny surface by

little teazle-like brushes of bamboo.] for our people, and in

arranging for our journey, to which the Lachen Phipun was favourable, promising us ponies for the expedition. The vegetation around was

wholly changed since my July visit: the rhododendron scrub was

verdigris-green from the young leaves which burst in autumn, and

expose at the end of each branchlet a flower-bud covered with