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

scattered bushes of a dwarf scrubby honeysuckle and tufts of nettle, both so brittle as to be trodden into powder,

and the short leafless twiggy Ephedra, a few inches higher.

The most alpine rhododendron (R. nivale) spread its small rigid

branches close to the ground; the hemispherical Arenaria, another type of sterility, rose here and there, and tufts of _Myosotis,

Artemisia, Astragali, and _Adrosace, formed flat cushions level

with the soil. Grass was very scarce, but a running wiry sedge

(Carex Moorcroftii) bound the sand, like the Carex arenaria of

our English coasts.

A more dismally barren country cannot well be conceived, nor one more strongly contrasting with the pastures of Palung at an equal

elevation. The long lofty wall of Kinchinjhow and Donkia presents an effectual barrier to the transmission of moisture to the head of the Lachen valley, which therefore becomes a type of such elevations in Tibet. As I proceeded, the ground became still more sandy, chirping under the pony's feet; and where harder, it was burrowed by

innumerable marmots, foxes, and the "Goomchen," or tail-less rat

(Lagomys badius), sounding hollow to the tread, and at last

becoming so dangerous that I was obliged to dismount and walk.

The geological features changed as rapidly as those of the climate

and vegetation, for the strike of the rocks being north-west, and the dip north-east, I was rising over the strata that overlie the gneiss.

The upper part of Kinchinjhow is composed of bold ice-capped cliffs of gneiss; but the long spurs that stretch northwards from it are of quartz, conglomerates, slates, and earthy red clays, forming the

rounded terraced hills I had seen from Donkia pass. Between these

spurs were narrow valleys, at whose mouths stupendous blocks of

gneiss rest on rocks of a much later geological formation.

Opposite the most prominent of these spurs the river (16,800 feet

above the sea) runs west, forming marshes, which were full of

Zannichellia palustris and Ranunculus aquatilis, both English and Siberian plants: the waters contained many shells, of a species of

Lymnaea;* [This is the most alpine living shell in the world; my

specimens being from nearly 17,000 feet elevation; it is the Lymnaea Hookeri, Reeve ("Proceedings of the Zoological Society," No. 204).]

and the soil near the edge, which was covered with tufts of short

grass, was whitened with effloresced carbonate of soda. Here were

some square stone enclosures two feet high, used as pens, and for

pitching tents in; within them I gathered some unripe barley.

Beyond this I recognised a hill of which I had taken bearings from

Donkia pass, and a few miles further, on rounding a great spur of

Kinchinjunga, I arrived in sight of Cholamoo lakes, with the Donkia mountain rearing its stupendous precipices of rock and ice on the

east. My pony was knocked up, and I felt very giddy from the exertion and elevation; I had broken his bridle, and so led him on by my plaid for the last few miles to the banks of the lake; and there, with the pleasant sound of the waters rippling at my feet, I yielded for a few moments to those emotions of gratified ambition which, being

unalloyed by selfish considerations for the future; become springs of happiness during the remainder of one's life.

The landscape about Cholamoo lakes was simple in its elements, stern and solemn; and though my solitary situation rendered it doubly

impressive to me, I doubt whether the world contains any scene with more sublime associations than this calm sheet of water, 17,000 feet above the sea, with the shadows of mountains 22,000 to 24,000 feet

high, sleeping on its bosom.

There was much short grass about the lake, on which large antelopes, "Chiru" (Antilope Hodgsoni,* [I found the horns of this animal on the south side of the Donkia pass, but I never saw a live one except in Tibet. The Procapra is described by Mr. Hodgson, "Bengal As.

Soc. Jour., 1846, p. 388," and is introduced into the cut in this

chapter.] and deer, "Goa" (Procapra picticaudata, Hodgson), were

feeding. There were also many slate-coloured hales with white rumps (Lepus oiostolus), with marmots and tail-less rats. The abundance of animal life was wonderful, compared with the want of it on the

south side of Donkia pass, not five miles distant in a straight line!

it is partly due to the profusion of carbonate of soda, of which all ruminants are fond, and partly to the dryness of the climate, which is favourable to all burrowing quadrupeds. A flock of common English teal were swimming in the lake, the temperature of which was

55 degrees.

Illustration--ANTELOPE'S HEAD.* {The accompanying figures of the

heads of the Chiru (Antilope Hodgsoni), were sketched by Lieut.

Maxwell (of the Bengal Artillery), from a pair brought to Dorjiling; it is the so-called unicorn of Tibet, and of MM. HuC and Gabet's

narrative,--a name which the profile no doubt suggested.]

I had come about fifteen miles from the pass, and arrived at 1 p.m., remaining half an hour. I could not form an idea as to whether

Campbell had followed or not, and began to speculate on the

probability of passing the night in the open air, by the warm side of my steed. Though the sun shone brightly, the wind was bitterly cold, and I arrived at the stone dykes of Yeumtso at 3 p.m., quite

exhausted with fatigue and headache. I there found, to my great

relief, the Tchebu Lama and Lachen Phipun: they were in some alarm at my absence, for they thought I was not aware of the extreme severity of the temperature on the north side of the snows, or of the risk of losing my way; they told me that after a long discourse with the

Dingpun (or commander) of the Tibetan Sepoys, the latter had allowed all the party to pass; that the Sepoys had brought on the coolies,

who were close behind, but that they themselves had seen nothing of Campbell; of whom the Lama then went in search.

The sun set behind Chomiomo at 5 p.m., and the wind at once dropped, so local are these violent atmospheric currents, which are caused by the heating of the upper extremities of these lofty valleys, and

consequent rarefaction of the air. Intense terrestrial radiation

immediately follows the withdrawal of the sun's rays, and the

temperature sinks rapidly.

Soon after sunset the Lama returned, bringing Campbell; who, having mistaken some glacier-fed lakes at the back of Kinchinjhow for those of Cholamoo, was looking for me. He too had speculated on having to pass the night under a rock, with one plaid for himself and servant; in which case I am sure they would both have been frozen to death,

having no pony to lie down beside. He told me that after I had

quitted Kongra Lama, leaving him with the Tchebu Lama and Phipun, the Dingpun and twenty men came up, and very civilly but formally forbade their crossing the frontier; but that upon explaining his motives,

and representing that it would save him ten days' journey, the

Dingpun had relented, and promised to conduct the whole party to the Donkia pass.

We pitched our little tent in the corner of the cattle-pen, and our coolies soon afterwards came up; mine were in capital health, though suffering from headaches, but Campbell's were in a distressing state of illness and fatigue, with swollen faces and rapid pulses, and some were insensible from symptoms like pressure on the brain;* [I have

never experienced bleeding at the nose, ears, lips or eyelids, either in my person or that of my companions, on these occasions; nor did I ever meet with a recent traveller who has. Dr. Thomson has made the same remark, and when in Switzerland together we were assured by

Auguste Balmat, Francois Coutet, and other experienced Mont Blanc

guides, that they never witnessed these symptoms nor the blackness of the sky, so frequently insisted upon by alpine travellers.] these

were chiefly Ghorkas (Nepalese). The Tibetan Dingpun and his guard

arrived last of all, he was a droll little object, short, fat, deeply marked with small-pox, swarthy, and greasy; he was robed in a green woollen mantle, and was perched on the back of a yak, which also

carried his bedding, and cooking utensils, the latter rattling about its flanks, horns, neck, and every point of support: two other yaks bore the tents of the party. His followers were tall savage looking fellows, with broad swarthy faces, and their hair in short pig-tails.

They wore the long-sleeved cloak, short trousers, and boots, all of thick woollen, and felt caps on their heads. Each was armed with a

long matchlock slung over his back, with a moveable rest having two prongs like a fork, and a hinge, so as to fold up along the barrel, when the prongs project behind the shoulders like antelope horns,

giving the uncouth warrior a droll appearance. A dozen cartridges,

each in an iron case, were slung round the waist, and they also wore the long knife, flint, steel, and iron tobacco-pipe, pouch, and

purse, suspended to a leathern girdle.

The night was fine, but intensely cold, and the vault of heaven was very dark, and blazing with stars; the sir was electrical, and flash lightning illumined the sky; this was the reflection of a storm that was not felt at Dorjiling, but which raged on the plains of India,

beyond the Terai, fully 120 miles, and perhaps 150, south of our

position. No thunder was heard. The thermometer fell to 5 degrees,

and that in the reflector to 3.5 degrees; at sunrise it rose to 10

degrees, and soon after 8 a.m. to 33 degrees; till this hour the

humidity was great, and a thin mist hung over the frozen surface of the rocky ground; when this dispersed, the air became very dry, and the black-bulb thermometer in the sun rose 60 degrees above the

temperature in the shade. The light of the sun, though sometimes

intercepted by vapours aloft, was very brilliant.* [My black glass

photometer shut out the sun's disc at 10.509 inches, from the mean of four sets of observations taken between 7 and 10 a.m.]

This being the migrating season, swallows flitted through the air;

finches, larches, and sparrows were hopping over the sterile soil,

seeking food, though it was difficult to say what. The geese* [An

enormous quantity of water-fowl breed in Tibet, including many Indian species that migrate no further north. The natives collect their eggs for the markets at Jigatzi, Giantchi, and Lhassa, along the banks of the Yarn river, Ramchoo, and Yarbru and Dochen lakes. Amongst other birds the Sara, or great crane of India (see "Turner's Tibet,"

p. 212), repairs to these enormous elevations to breed. The fact of birds characteristic of the tropics dwelling for months in such

climates is a very instructive one, and should be borne in mind in

our speculations upon the climate supposed to be indicated by the

imbedded bones of birds.] which had roosted by the river, cackled;

the wild ducks quacked and plumed themselves; ouzels and waders

screamed or chirped; and all rejoiced as they prepared themselves for the last flight of the year, to the valleys of the southern Himalaya, to the Teesta, and other rivers of the Terai and plains of India.

The Dingpun paid his respects to us in the morning, wearing, besides his green cloak, a white cap with a green glass button, denoting his rank; he informed us that he had written to his superior officer at Kambajong, explaining his motives for conducting us across the

frontier, and he drew from his breast a long letter, written on

Daphne* [Most of the paper used in Tibet is, as I have elsewhere

noticed, made from the bark of