From here Heron and I had decided to go on and see how Mallory and Bullock had been faring in the next valley, so the next morning, after breakfasting at 5 a.m., we started off. It was one of the coldest mornings we had had, with a very hard frost, and being on the shady side of the valley we did not get the sun till several hours after we had started. After going down the valley for about 6 miles, we turned off to the East and crossed several easy pa.s.ses, the higher of them, the Lamna La, being 16,900 feet. The country was very barren of flowers and vegetation, but there was a certain amount of grazing for yaks and sheep. The march to Zambu was a fairly long one of 20 miles, but the yaks came along well. This was a more prosperous-looking village than most of them, and the houses were all whitewashed. We were still too high for barley fields as we were just 16,000 feet, but the wealth of the village lay in its herds of yaks and sheep; the villagers told us they owned 3,000 yaks. Shepherds in this country are but poorly paid, getting only thirty trangkas (10_s._) per annum. But house servants are still worse off, getting only eight trangkas (2_s._ 8_d._) per annum.

However, they seem to thrive under those wages and there is no discontent or trades unionism among them. Our camp was pitched in a sunny spot not far from the village, looking straight over towards Mount Everest, whose top appeared over the opposite hills. From this side its precipices looked most formidable and there was also a magnificent ridge which we had not seen before. There was a slight frost again that night.

Breakfasting, as usual, at 5 a.m., I started up the hill South of the camp and was lucky enough to get a clear view of Everest and the Rongbuk Valley that led up to it. This valley ran right up to the foot of Mount Everest and seemed an easy enough approach, but the mountain itself looked absolutely unscalable from this side, showing nothing but a series of very steep precipices. The day turned out to be a very hot one. I descended into the valley below, and started to ride up towards Mount Everest. Presently I came to an unfordable stream, and after making several attempts to get across this, found myself compelled to return several miles down the valley to the monastery of Chobu, where there was a slender footbridge. The pony that I was riding was swum across, a rope being attached to its head. He was then pulled over to the far side, a proceeding he did not at all enjoy. The yaks, too, were unladen, and the loads carried by hand over the bridge. After this the yaks were driven into the river and made to swim across, but they only went as far as an island in the middle of the river. From this place they would not budge in spite of stones, curses and threats, until at length a man with a sling, fetched from the monastery, hurled stones at them with great violence: this procedure apparently so stung them up that they thought it advisable to cross the remainder of the stream. At the entrance to the valley, we pa.s.sed some very tame burhel within a few yards of the path, and then went along at the foot of some fine cliffs with limestone on the top and layers of hornblende and granite below.

At first there was quite a rich vegetation growing here, considering we were just on 16,000 feet. There were juniper bushes, clematis, willows, a genista, rock roses, and even some yellow primulas, but as we got further into the valley it became more stony, and on either side of the path were small piles of stones heaped up by pilgrims. The valley was considered very sacred and was apparently a great place of pilgrimage.

We found the base camp of the Alpine climbers pitched close to the Rongbuk Monastery, where there lived a very high re-incarnated Lama who was in meditation and not allowed to see anyone. This valley was called the Rongbuk, or inner valley--a name well suited to it; the legend was that from this valley there used to be a pa.s.s over into the Khombu Valley, but the high Lama who lived here forbade the use of it, as it disturbed the meditations of the recluses and hermits, of which there were several hundred here. At first these good people did not at all approve of our coming into this valley, as they thought we should be likely to disturb and distract their meditations.

The Rongbuk Monastery lies at a height of 16,500 feet, and is an unpleasantly cold spot. This monastery contains twenty permanent Lamas who always live there, together with the re-incarnated Lama. Besides these, there are three hundred other a.s.sociated Lamas who come in periodically, remaining there for periods of varying length. These a.s.sociate Lamas are mostly well-to-do, and having sufficient money to support themselves are not a drain upon the villagers. They will often invest several thousand trangkas with some village, and in return for this money the village will supply them with food, barley, milk, eggs and fuel. Higher up the valley there was a smaller monastery, and dotted along the hillside were numerous cells and caves where monks or nuns had retired to meditate. Every animal that we saw in this valley was extraordinarily tame. In the mornings we watched the burhel coming to some hermits' cells not a hundred yards away from the camp, to be fed, and from there they went on to other cells. They seemed to have no fear whatever of human beings. On the way up the valley we pa.s.sed within 40 to 50 yards of a fine flock of rams, but they barely moved away, and on the way back we pa.s.sed some females that were so inquisitive that they actually came up to within 10 yards of us in order to have a look at us.

The rock pigeons came and fed out of one's hand, and the ravens and all the other birds here were equally tame; it was most interesting to be able to watch all their habits and to see them at such close quarters.

On July 4, Heron and I walked up the valley to see Mallory and Bullock, who had got an Alpine camp some 7 miles further up the valley at a height of 18,000 feet, where they were training their coolies in snow and ice work and trying to find out whether there was any possible way of attacking Mount Everest from this side. It was a beautiful morning when we started, and on the way we pa.s.sed one or two small monasteries and numerous cells where hermits and recluses were living in retirement and meditation. After crossing several small lake beds and old moraines--for the big Rongbuk Glacier seemed to have been retiring in the last few years--we came to the big moraine-covered Rongbuk Glacier.

This glacier appeared to be about 8 or 9 miles long, starting immediately below an immense circle of cliffs which formed the North face of Mount Everest. We found afterwards that there were several other side glaciers that joined in it, which were even larger and longer than the centre glacier. After some steep scrambles up the moraine-covered glacier and on to a high terrace on the West side of it, we found Mallory and Bullock with their coolies encamped in a pleasantly sheltered spot with plenty of water close at hand and commanding the most magnificent views of Mount Everest, which here seemed to be only about 6 miles away and towered up above the glacier, showing immense cliffs 10,000 feet high. Mallory and Bullock were hard at work training the coolies in snow and ice work and exploring all the different glaciers from that side. They were, however, much handicapped by there only being two of them, which made the work more strenuous. After spending the day with them, Heron and I returned to our camp in the evening. The evening light on Mount Everest was wonderfully beautiful.

The weather seems nearly always to clear up about sunset, and its summit then usually towers far above the clouds in a clear sky. At dusk several of the Lamas came for medicines of different kinds, which we gave them, and much to our surprise in the morning they presented us with a number of fresh eggs in grat.i.tude. Having seen Mallory and Bullock well established in this valley, our next most important duty seemed to be to select a site for our next base camp. Some place on the East side of Mount Everest would have to be chosen, and it seemed that somewhere in the Kharta Valley would be the most likely spot. Heron and I therefore determined that we would make a quick reconnaissance of that district before returning to Tingri. On the following day we moved down from the Rongbuk Monastery.

CHAPTER V

THE SEARCH FOR KHARTA

After leaving Mallory and Bullock to continue the search for a possible route up Mount Everest from the Rongbuk side, Heron and I, on July 5, started off down the Rongbuk Valley in order to visit Kharta. We had been told that it was only two days' easy march from the monastery to get there. It was a cold morning when we started off; there had been a sharp frost during the night and the sun did not reach us till late in the morning. Mount Everest stood out at the head of the valley wonderfully clear and clothed with a fresh mantle of white. Instead of crossing over the river by the bridge, at Chobu, we kept straight on down the valley till we came to Chodzong, where were the first barley fields and cultivation. There was plenty of water here for irrigation purposes, and some fine gra.s.sy fields on which many ponies were grazing.

We had to change our transport in this village and get fresh animals, so that it was not till three o'clock in the afternoon that we got started again. In Tibet they have a system of stages, and animals from one village are taken, as a rule, for one stage only. As each stage usually ends at the next village, and as villages are frequent, this is a most awkward and inconvenient arrangement--as it necessitates three or four changes a day. In order to avoid these constant changes, we used to persuade the villagers by promises of extra baksheesh, especially where we had a large number of animals, to undertake two or three stages.

After leaving Chodzong we climbed up over a steep pa.s.s 1,200 feet above the valley and found a still deeper descent to the village of Halung, which lay at our feet. Here we waited for our transport, but as this did not arrive till dark, we decided to camp there, though we had only done 18 miles from Rongbuk; the yak travels very slowly. We were now again at 14,800 feet and found a much warmer climate, with green barley fields and here and there patches of yellow mustard. A large rhubarb with a curious crinkled leaf grew here and there in the fields. We tried to eat this rhubarb; it had an unpleasant taste, but this disappeared when it was cooked and it proved a welcome addition to our diet. The Tibetans do not use it for food, as sugar--without which it would be uneatable--is scarce and expensive in the country. The plant serves, however, as an acid for dyes.

Halung is a very prosperous-looking village with well-built houses. The villagers soon had three tents pitched for us on a gra.s.sy field between the village and the river; cushions, cooking pots and fuel were also brought out for us. Here we camped for the night in reasonable comfort.

On the following morning the loads were all carried by hand across a fragile bridge over the glacier stream, while the yaks and the ponies were driven across it. We then rode for a mile down the green and well-watered valley, and afterwards turned up into another valley where every flat s.p.a.ce was green with barley-fields intermixed with brilliant patches of yellow from the fields of mustard. A small glacier stream fed this valley and supplied plenty of water for irrigation. After pa.s.sing several small villages we rode across a spur also covered with barley-fields to Rebu, where we had to change our transport. This was quite a picturesque village situated on a rocky knoll, part of the village being on one side and part on the other of the river. Along the various irrigation ca.n.a.ls were wild flowers of all kinds. Monkshood grew there, also black and yellow clematis, rhubarb, ranunculus and primulas of different kinds. By ten o'clock our transport was changed and we were given ponies instead of yaks: they travel much quicker and we had apparently a long way to go yet before we could reach the next village.

We were expecting all the time to get to Kharta that evening, but where distances are concerned all Tibetans are liars, and after doing 26 miles we stopped, Kharta being apparently as far off as ever. After leaving Rebu the path led for some miles up an uninteresting valley, in which limestone cliffs on one side and sandstone cliffs on the other came down almost to the stream, the waters of which, in contrast to the muddy glacier streams that we had been meeting the whole time, were as clear as crystal. There were many small birds along the banks, all of them wonderfully tame; these, when we were resting for lunch, hopped all round us and under our legs, carrying off crumbs or any morsels of food.

We now climbed up on to a pa.s.s called the Doya La, 17,000 feet, from the top of which were fine views of great rocky peaks on either side, those on the South being covered in parts with hanging glaciers. About a quarter of a mile from the top of the pa.s.s we struck some granite soil on which grew an extraordinary variety of Alpine flowers; the blue poppy abounded, pink, yellow and white saxifrages covered all the rocks, and besides these were many other plants which I had not seen before and which were quite new to me. The range which we now crossed acts as a barrier against the approach of the Monsoon clouds and prevents them from pa.s.sing over into Tibet. Over on the North side the country is mostly dry and very little grows there, whereas on the South there is a rich and varied vegetation and the air feels soft and moist. The road from the pa.s.s led by an easy descent into a fine valley with a green lake lying at its head under the dark cliffs of some bold rocky peaks.

We followed this valley for many miles, a strong head wind blowing against us the whole of the time, and found ourselves before long once more among the junipers and willows. We also saw pink and white rhododendrons, and in places a small yellow one with waxy blossoms. The yellow rock cistus, spiraeas, roses, yellow primulas, blue monkshood, campanulas, blue anemones, and hundreds of other wild flowers formed a rich flora which showed that a considerable precipitation from the Monsoon fell in this valley.

At last we came to a village, but every one fled at our approach, and we could get no information about the route. A little further on we came across more villages, in one of which, with much difficulty and after a long chase, we captured a man and made him guide us to the village of Chulungphu, where we decided to stop the night. After a little time we induced some of the villagers to come out from their hiding-places, and to produce tents and fuel for us. The camp was pitched in a field of sweet-scented primulas near the village. The architecture of these houses was quite different from what we had met before--they all appear to be strongly fortified, as they have practically no windows and there are only small loopholes facing outwards. They are all built of a brown stone--a kind of gneiss, and have sods on the parapet over which are laid branches of juniper. The next morning we woke to the sound of pattering rain and found all the hills wreathed in grey mist. This was their first rain this year, so the inhabitants told us. It was pleasant to one's skin after the dry climate and biting winds that we had been experiencing on the other side of the pa.s.ses to feel oneself wrapped in a softer and milder air. We rode down this valley for about 6 miles until it debouched into the main Arun Valley. The people, however, do not know it by this name here, but call it still the Bhong-chu until it reaches Nepal. We pa.s.sed villages all the way, villages brown in colour and built of a brown gneiss, around which grew fields of barley and mustard. After the barren valleys which we had left, these appeared very fertile; rose and currant bushes surrounded every field, while the hillsides were covered with juniper and willows. Along the path grew spiraeas and clematis, while beside every watercourse were yellow marsh marigolds and primulas. A feature of the Arun Valley, which was fairly wide here, was the old terraces on its slopes, now all covered with barley, pea and mustard fields, the latter being a blaze of yellow.

There were many villages here and some pleasant country houses surrounded by groves of willows and poplars. Down here the people were not quite so frightened of us as they were in the valley from which we had just come, where they had run away from us whenever we approached.

The Bong-chu here is a large river with a very great flow of water, and quite unfordable. The nearest place where it could be crossed is at a rope bridge some 18 miles higher up, and during the rainy season this bridge is impa.s.sable, and communication with the other side completely cut off. To the South and close by, at a height of 12,000 feet, the Bhong-chu enters a terrific gorge on either side of which tower up great cliffs with snowy peaks high above them. On some of the slopes which are not quite so steep there are thick forests of fir trees and rhododendrons where, I was told, the muskdeer lived. After descending the valley for 3 miles, we turned up a side valley pointing Westwards.

Down this flowed a very large and unfordable glacial stream. This evidently came down from the neighbourhood of Mount Everest, but local information as to its source was very vague, and it was evident that we should have to prospect for ourselves. Some 3 miles up this valley we came to a place called by the natives Kharta Shika, where the Governor of the Kharta District resides. Kharta was not apparently a village at all, but a district including a number of small villages. We halted a short distance below Kharta Shika and presently the Governor came out to meet us with a present of sweetmeats and the usual scarf. He apologised for not meeting us before, as he said that he had no information as to the date of our arrival. He begged that we would come over to his garden where he had ordered a fine Chinese tent to be pitched for us. We crossed the river by a wooden bridge, and after going through the village came to the Governor's house. Crossing through the courtyard we entered his garden, which lay in a nice sheltered spot surrounded by willow trees with a stream of clear water running through it. Big wild roses grew there and a few European flowers that he had planted, while under a very ancient poplar there was a large painted prayer wheel, some 8 feet high, which was turned by a stream of water. Here in his garden he provided us with a meal of excellent macaroni and a very hot chilli salad. It was very pleasant to rest the eyes on the luscious green of the well irrigated garden, and to be for once sheltered from the wind.

During the night we were awakened by a regular shower bath. The Chinese tent, beautiful as it was in outward appearance, was sadly lacking in waterproof qualities. As it rained steadily most of the night, we had to take cover under our mackintoshes on which were pools of water in the morning. There seemed to be no doubt that the proper Monsoon had at last broken, and the Jongpen himself told us that this was the first really heavy rain that they had had. All the people considered that we had brought this rain with us and were very grateful in consequence; later on, when we left, they begged us not to stop the rain, as they wanted it badly for their crops.

As it cleared up a little about nine o'clock in the morning, though the hills were still all in cloud, we rode out with Chheten w.a.n.gdi, the Jongpen and Hopaphema, who was the largest landowner about here, to look out for a site for our next base camp. We wanted, if possible, to get a house that could be used as a store-room and also for photographic purposes. We rode down into the main valley, and after looking over several houses, we eventually selected one on an old river terrace with fine views all around and standing quite by itself well away from any village. The water supply was good and handy, and there was a pleasant garden of poplars and willows, in which we could pitch our tents. After a certain amount of bargaining, the owners were willing to let us have the house and the garden for the large rent of one trangka (3_d._) a day. It was apparently the first time anyone in that valley had ever wanted to rent a house, and there were no house agents there to run one up into exorbitant prices. We then rode on to Hopaphema's house, which was a fine solidly built dwelling surrounded by large juniper trees, willows and poplars. Later on we got to know this man very well, and used to call him always the "Sergeant," as he was supposed to do any recruiting for the Tibetan army that was needed in that valley. He had a very kindly disposition, was always very hospitable, and had a great sense of humour. He had a tent pitched for our reception under a very old poplar with a gra.s.s plot in front surrounded by bushes of wild red roses. Here we were given tea, milk and beer, and then the usual macaroni and mince was produced. On leaving, he insisted on my taking away a large quant.i.ty of turnip leaves, as he knew I was very fond of green food, and they made an excellent "spinach." The Tibetans that we met have invariably proved very kindly and hospitable.

On returning to Kharta, where I had left Heron, I found that it had been raining all the time, though in the main valley we had had it quite fine. In the evening I took a walk up to an old fort not far from our camp. This fort in old days had commanded the only path from here that led into Nepal, but now it had all fallen into ruin. Close by it, however, was a delightful dell full of h.o.a.ry willow trees, underneath which the ground was carpeted with yellow primulas growing among the bushes of scarlet roses. Near by were two old poplar trees, whose trunks measured between 20 and 30 feet in circ.u.mference and were evidently of a very great age. The primulas everywhere were really astonishing. They outlined every watercourse with yellow and often grew between 2 and 3 feet high with enormous heads of sweet cowslip-scented yellow flowers.

It rained again during the whole of the night, and the fine spray that came through the Chinese tent made sleep rather difficult. The next morning we started to go back to Tingri, and for the first day's march were given coolies for our transport. In this district coolies are used a great deal as all the trade with Nepal has to be carried on by them, the paths over the pa.s.ses being quite impa.s.sable for pack transport; the Jongpen told us that we would find them quite as fast as ponies.

To-day's march was to Lumeh--a distance of about 17 miles--and the coolies arrived very soon after we did, having come along extraordinarily well. Our route for the first 3 miles was down the Kharta Valley until it joined the valley of the Bhong-chu; we then followed the right bank of this for some 10 miles. On the way we stopped at the house of Hopaphema, who insisted on giving us a meal of milk, macaroni and mince, although it was only just over an hour since we had had breakfast. On our departure he gave us a basket of eggs and some more turnip leaves to take along with us, and altogether showed himself a most friendly and hospitable host. At first we rode through fields of barley, peas and mustard for several miles, the valley then became much more barren and the path occasionally was taken high up on the face of a cliff, where the river swept round close beneath the mountain side. At other times we crossed broad stony terraces. We came eventually to the village of Dak, where the monks from the monastery had pitched tents for us and had another meal provided for us. Coolies had to be changed here, our old coolies arriving while we were having our meal; after the loads had been transferred, our new transport proceeded along to Lumeh, where we intended to spend the night. The path after Dak was in places dangerous owing to falling stones, and our guide every now and then urged us to hurry, as owing to the heavy rain of the preceding night many stones had been loosened. The main Bhong-chu suddenly turned off to the East from here, unexpectedly forcing a pa.s.sage through a very curious and deep gorge, where it burst its way through the highest mountains. We did not, however, follow the valley of the Bhong-chu, but kept on up what appeared to be the main valley; this was really only the valley of the Lower Rongbuk that in its lower portion is called the Dzakar-chu. This river we crossed by a wooden bridge, built on the cantilever principle, and which a couple of months later was washed away. After riding for a couple of miles over a nice gra.s.sy turf we came to Lumeh. Here was a very fine country house around which were grouped a few smaller houses. This was the residence of Ngaw.a.n.gyonten, who was managing the district for the big monastery at Shekar Dzong, whose property it was. He had tents already pitched for us, and fuel, milk and eggs already prepared. Around this house were five of the largest poplar trees that I have ever seen. The largest was almost 40 feet in circ.u.mference at the base, and the others were all between 20 and 25 feet in circ.u.mference. The villagers told us that they thought these trees had been planted about 500 years ago. Magpies and hoopoes were very common in this valley--the former were quite tame and allowed us to approach very close. The barley-fields seemed to hold many hares. Some fine crops of wheat as well as barley were grown here, although the height was 12,800 feet. Every night now we had heavy rain which brought fresh snow down to 16,000 feet. As the clouds remained low all day we seldom got any distant views.

The march to Pulme, our next point up the valley of the Dzakar-chu, was 22 miles, a very dull and uninteresting ride. The going was bad--we often had to follow the bed of the river, which was now in flood and extended to the cliffs on both sides--at other times we kept high up on the steep sides of a gorge, sometimes of gneiss, sometimes of limestone rock. In places where the valley widened out, the river bed was full of bushes of tamarisk and sea buckthorn, but otherwise the vegetation was scanty. After going 15 miles we were to change coolies; but the Lumeh coolies, who were extremely poor and very different from those that we had taken from Kharta, took eleven hours to cover the 15 miles, and did not arrive till six in the evening. Much to Heron's disgust, I proposed to push on to Pulme, late as it was; but the road was good, and we trotted the 7 miles in an hour and a half, though the coolies and the donkeys did not arrive till well after dark. Fortunately we found tents as usual pitched for our reception. We had originally intended to ford the Dzakar-chu that evening and camp on the far side, but it was too dangerous to do it in the dark, though the villagers told us that by morning the stream would be a couple of feet higher. The river is a great obstacle at this time of the year, as there is no bridge over it here, the next bridge being at Chobu, 20 miles higher up the valley.

The following day I started on my return journey to Tingri, leaving at 5.30 in the morning with Chheten w.a.n.gdi. I succeeded in fording the Dzakar-chu, which was deep and very swift. My pony was swept off his legs once and I got very wet, the icy cold water coming right over the saddle.

Heron and the coolies were to follow on slowly and were to take two days in reaching Tingri, but I was anxious to get back, having been away already longer than I intended. Four miles away, at Tashi Dzom, I changed ponies and procured a guide who was to take me on to Tingri, leaving Chheten w.a.n.gdi behind with Heron. This guide proved quite an amusing fellow, and suddenly surprised me by counting in English one, two, three, four, and then saying "Right turn" and "Left turn," and other military words of command. On inquiring where he had learned this English, I found that at one time he had served as a soldier at Lhasa, where the military words of command are in English, and these were the only English words that he knew. After leaving Tashi Dzom we turned up into a broad side valley with villages every half-mile and surrounded by barley, mustard and pea fields. What was, however, especially noticeable about all these valleys that we had been pa.s.sing through for the last two days, was the extraordinary number of ruined villages that there were everywhere. This was not due to lack of water, for there was plenty of water in all the streams; these valleys, however, must have at one time been very thickly inhabited, and it is probable that the dearth of population to-day is due to the wars with the Gurkhas in the eighteenth century. We had a very wet ride--one storm after another overtook us, and a cold rain fell heavily all the way to Tingri. We gradually ascended out of the cultivation and crossing a low pa.s.s, about 16,000 feet, looked down again on the great Tingri Plain. There was still, however, a long way to go, and it was not till after five o'clock in the evening that I reached Tingri, drenched to the skin. It had been a ride of between 36 and 40 miles.

At Tingri I found Wollaston and Morshead. The former had been very busy all the time I had been away in collecting insects, b.u.t.terflies, rats, mice, birds and flowers, and had ama.s.sed quite a number of specimens.

Morshead had been out a good deal with his surveyors to the North and to the West, but had been driven in by the bad weather of the last few days. This had apparently been general and we might say that the rainy season this year had begun on July 7, which the Tibetans considered very late for those parts. The following afternoon Heron arrived, and my kit also, which I was very glad to get, as I had only had a spare tent to roll around me the previous night.

The next day or two was spent mostly in reading letters and newspapers.

Our postal arrangements were at first rather complicated, there being no regular postal service to the provinces in Tibet. We had, therefore, to make an arrangement with each Jongpen to forward on our mail. Phari was the last post office, and the postmaster there had to arrange with the Phari Jongpen for a messenger every week to go with our posts to Khamba Dzong; we had left money with him for the purpose of paying the postman.

At Khamba Dzong we had arranged with the Jongpen there that he should forward our letters to Tinki, and at Tinki we had made further arrangements for them to be sent on to Shekar Dzong and from Shekar Dzong they were to be sent to Tingri. We had left money for this purpose with the various Jongpens, and each Jongpen as he received the mail bag was to affix his seal on it and send it on as quickly as he could to the next Jongpen. This system worked very well for the first two months, but after we had moved to Kharta, partly owing to floods, and partly perhaps to the laziness of the Shekar Jongpen, our mails were all held up and we eventually had to send coolies back from our camp to Phari to bring them along. The best plan another time would be to take with the Expedition a certain number of coolies to be used purely for going backwards and forwards with the mails. On July 13 Morshead and Wollaston left to go to Nyenyam in response to a cordial invitation from the Jongpen, asking that some of the Expedition should visit the place. We were glad to accept, and this should be a very interesting part of the country botanically.

CHAPTER VI

THE MOVE TO KHARTA

I had arrived back at Tingri on July 11, and remained there in the Chinese rest-house until July 24, when I started to move the base camp and all the stores round to Kharta. During the time I was not left always alone, for Heron came in occasionally for a night between his various geological expeditions to the North. Wheeler also came down for a change and a rest, and to develop the photographs that he had taken.

He had been having a very trying and provoking time in the high camps, as the weather had been bad, with frequent snowfalls. Nearly every day he climbed up to a spur 20,000 feet or more in height, yet in spite of waiting all day there in the icy cold winds or driving snow, it was but seldom that he was able to get a photograph, and then the clouds would only lift for a few minutes.

There was always plenty to do at Tingri, so the time pa.s.sed quickly.

Much photographic work had to be done and much developing and printing of the many photographs that were being sent in by the various members of the party. Supplies had also to be sent out and arrangements made for the comforts of the climbing party in the Rongbuk Valley. There were also several expeditions to be made round Tingri, and these were full of interest. Anemometers were very popular in this district; they were fixed by the Tibetans above small prayer wheels, and owing to the constant winds, it was seldom that the prayer wheels were not revolving.

Many yaks' horns, carved all over with prayers, were lying about on the different Chortens or Mani walls. The barley, which was only just coming up when we arrived, was now 18 inches high and coming into ear, and though we were over 14,000 feet, the crops looked very healthy and even. Every evening during this period we had heavy storms of rain with much lightning and thunder, and fresh snow used to fall during the night as low as 15,000 feet, but most of it melted again during the day.

During this period the plains round Tingri were rapidly becoming marshes and the rivers quite unfordable. The storms always gathered to the North of us, along the Sipri limestone ridge, and the high mountain chain that formed the watershed between the Brahmaputra and the Bhong-chu. These storms generally worked down towards the South. Occasionally fine days came to us when there was a strong South wind to blow the rain back, and it was seldom that the Monsoon clouds brought rain directly to us from the South. The Sipri range was a very conspicuous limestone range to the North of us, the limestone being worn into the most curious shapes. It was looked upon by the Tibetans as being a holy mountain, and on its slopes were many small monasteries. Hermits also took up their abode in the limestone caves below the summit. Pilgrims used to come from great distances to make the circuit of the mountain. This took generally five days, and much merit was acquired by doing so.

On July 17 I made an excursion out to the Hot Springs at Tsamda, about 7 miles away to the North-west across the plain. The valley of the Bhong-chu narrows there for a few miles before opening out again into the wide Sutso Plain. There were two or three hot springs here, but only one large one, and this was enclosed by walls within which were little stone huts in which people could change their clothes. The water was just the right temperature for a nice hot bath. When I went there, there was one man bathing and also washing his clothes in it. The Tibetans said, however, that this was not the proper season for bathing. The autumn was the correct time for them to have their annual bath before the winter sets in. The water was saline and had, I think, a little iron in it, but was not very unpleasant to the taste. The rocks from which it gushes out are very extraordinary, the strata forming a very steep arch, on the top of which there is a crack, from the very end of which, and at its lowest point, the springs came bubbling out. Near by in the valley there were also a good many saline deposits. In one of the smaller springs there were a number of little pink worm-like animals that were swimming about and clinging with their mouths to the sides of the rock. Riding back to Tingri by a different way across the plain, I saw a number of kiang and a few goa, but they were very wild and would not allow us to approach to within 500 yards. I also pa.s.sed three of the handsome black-necked cranes. The way across the plain was rather boggy, and we had some difficulty in finding it. When I got back I found that Heron had come in for a couple of nights, and the following day Wheeler too joined us, having walked in from Nezogu, the bridge over the Kyetrak River. He was anxious to develop some photographs, and as the weather was very bad, he could do no good by remaining in his high camp.

On July 20 we had very brilliant flashes of lightning, followed by a heavy storm of rain during the night. This was too much for the flat earth roof of the rest-house, and the water poured into all our rooms, causing us to move our beds many times during the night in search of a dry spot. I started off early in the morning as I had intended to climb the hills to the East of Tingri, but the rain that had fallen at Tingri had meant a heavy fall of snow on the mountains and the snow had fallen as low down as 15,000 feet. We pa.s.sed several goa on the way, but they were too shy to allow us to get a shot, also some kiang, which were very tame, and showed up well in the snow. As we got higher, the snow became about 4 inches deep, but was melting rapidly. The glare and the heat were intense. I saw a good many flocks of burhel, but no very large heads. The views as I followed the crests of the hills were extremely fine; on the North I looked down into the valley of the Bhong-chu, which was in flood and had filled the whole of the bottom of the valley with water, and on the other side I looked over the Tingri Plain to the great range of snow peaks which finally ended in the mighty ma.s.s of Gosainthan. The weather had been very hot and oppressive all day, and as usual in the evening we had another very severe thunderstorm with heavy rain all through the night. The following day was more like an English November day--cold and grey with drizzling rain--and with the snow on the hills down to 15,000 feet. I bought a Tibetan pony during the morning for the large sum of 7. It was a bay, an excellent ambler, and very surefooted. The Tibetan name by which he was known was Dug-dra-kyang-po, which means "The bay pony like a dragon."

[Ill.u.s.tration: MILITARY GOVERNOR, HIS WIFE AND MOTHER.]

I went over to have lunch with the Depon's representative. His family were all dressed up very smartly for the occasion, the women folk wearing their best head-dresses of turquoises, coral and pearls. He gave us rice and raisins as an _hors d'[oe]uvre_, and an _entree_ of junket, followed by some pickled turnips, which I thought very nasty, after which we had the usual macaroni and mince. He had been very friendly and kindly to us the whole time that we were at Tingri, and had always supplied us with everything we asked for. On July 22 we saw a very fine solar halo with well-marked rings of yellow, brown, green and white, but the rain continued steadily nearly all the time. The day before we were to leave Tingri I sent away my orderly, together with two coolies who had been sick, and whom the doctor had recommended that we should send back to Darjeeling. They were given sufficient food to take them back to Darjeeling and an extra fifteen days' pay, the orderly also being given a horse to ride. Towards evening the weather improved and we had some lovely views of Mount Everest and that great group of snow peaks of which Cho-Uyo is the highest. They all looked very white under their new coating of snow, which lies thickly down to 16,000 feet.

On July 24 we eventually got off from Tingri; the last few days had been spent in packing up and re-arranging all the stores. There was the usual talking, shouting and arguing, but all the loads were eventually packed on to the animals, or loaded on to the backs of the coolies by nine o'clock. We then took a last farewell of the Depon's representative, who was very sorry to see us go, and who had done so much to make our stay pleasant there.

The first march was to Nezogu, where there was a bridge over the Kyetrak; this was about 19 miles, partly across the Tingri Plain and then over a tiresome moraine. While crossing the moraine, I shot a goa which had quite a good head. Wheeler had accompanied me, as he had left his camp at the bridge, and on arrival there we found his tents all pitched and his cook waiting ready to receive us. Our own kit did not arrive till it was getting dark, when the weather looked very ominous.

Rain fell steadily most of the night, and just before dawn this turned to snow, so that when we woke up there were a couple of inches of fresh snow on the ground. As it was still snowing steadily, we were in no great hurry to start, and did not get off until nine o'clock. The weather than gradually improved and the fresh snow soon melted, though the ground was left in a very boggy condition. The march to Chobu was about 15 miles over the easy Lamna Pa.s.s. Knowing the way, I climbed on to a ridge to the South, where I had a fine view again of Mount Everest and the Rongbuk Valley. We pitched our camp on the far side of the Rongbuk River, our loads being carried across the frail bridge by the villagers, and our ponies being swum across. Here Mallory and Bullock joined us. They had been experiencing latterly very bad weather in the Upper Rongbuk Valley, and constant heavy falls of snow had seriously hindered their reconnaissance work. Their coolies, too, were getting rather tired and stale from remaining at such heights for a considerable time, and were badly in want of a rest. I had therefore arranged for them to meet me here and to accompany me round to Kharta, from which place they could then explore the Eastern approaches of Mount Everest.

During the night I suffered much from inflammation of the eyes, due to the snow that had fallen the day before. They were so painful as to make sleep quite impossible. I was not, however, the only one to suffer, as Chheten w.a.n.gdi, the interpreter, Acchu, the cook, and several of the coolies that were with me were all suffering from the same complaint in the morning. Though the sun had not been shining and the day had been misty, the glare from the new snow had been very much more powerful than anything we had expected and taught us a lesson that whenever there was the slightest fall of snow, we should always wear our snow goggles. From Chobu we marched to Rebu--a distance of about 15 miles. Knowing the way, I took Mallory and Bullock by the upper road over a pa.s.s to Halung; from the top of this pa.s.s we branched off on to a spur where there was a very fine view of Mount Everest and the mountains to the North and North-east of it. There had been so much fresh snow everywhere that it was often very difficult to recognize the peaks, but Mount Everest from this side looked as impossible as ever with the great black bands of perpendicular cliffs that seemed to encircle it.

The day was actually fine and the march was a pleasant one through a fertile valley full of fields of barley, mustard and peas. The wild flowers all round Rebu were still very beautiful. Our camp was pitched on a gra.s.sy spot on the bank of a rushing stream and close to the village of Rebu.

The following morning the weather was again fine, and as the yaks were all ready for us, we were started by 7.30 a.m. This start was quite amusing; we ourselves had first to cross a flooded stream over which there was a very wobbly stone bridge. With much excitement and noise the yaks were then driven across the stream, but the current was too strong for the bullocks, which had to be unloaded and their loads carried over.

While this was being done, the bridge collapsed, and a good lady and a bullock that were trying to get over by the bridge all fell into the water together. There was then a terrible excitement and mix-up, every one shouting and screaming, but they both scrambled safely to the sh.o.r.e, and beyond a wetting, no one was any the worse. We then took the road that I had travelled three weeks before over the Doya La. Knowing that there was a good view to be got from the top of the pa.s.s, I hurried ahead and climbed a rocky hill, 17,700 feet, close to the pa.s.s, where I saw a wonderful scene. Range upon range of snowy mountains extended right away to Kanchenjunga, and the course of the Arun could be traced wandering down through Nepal, while to the South towered up the great walls of Makalu. Mount Everest itself I could not see, as there were a good many clouds about, but to the South-west were some fine snow and rock peaks of which I took several photographs. I then basked in the sun for a couple of hours and enjoyed the view. The wild flowers on the top of the pa.s.s were delightful; I found three different kinds of gentians and the blue poppies were as numerous as ever. The primulas, however, had many of them already gone to seed, but the saxifrages still covered the rocks, and it was a delight to wander along and note the different varieties. Riding on to Chulungphu, we found tents pitched for us and fuel and milk all ready. In place of the primulas the ground was now carpeted with gentians. From here to Kharta the march was only a short one, but we thoroughly enjoyed riding along between the bushes of wild rose or juniper. The former were no longer in blossom, but there were many other new varieties of flowers appearing. I rode on ahead to the spot that I had chosen, three weeks previously, for our new base camp, and I found that Hopaphema had already pitched some tents for us. He had also prepared a meal for us and made every arrangement for our comfort.

Our camp was pitched under the willows and poplar trees in the garden, and it was pleasant to hear the rustle of the leaves in the wind once more. We were now at a height of only 12,300 feet, and the change in alt.i.tude was a very great relief to the climbing party and the coolies who had come down from the high camps. There were also plenty of green vegetables to be got here, and the coolies appreciated the change enormously. Just below us flowed the Arun, now a majestic river over a hundred yards wide. A mile lower down in its course it entered into the great gorges in which within a s.p.a.ce of 20 miles it dropped from 12,000 feet to 7,500 feet, a drop of over 200 feet in the mile. From our camp we used to watch the Monsoon clouds come up every day through the gorge in thin wisps, but every day they melted away always at the same spot; and though rain fell heavily a mile below us, yet with us the sun shone brightly, and it was rare for any rain to reach us. Twenty miles away to the North again were heavy clouds and storms, and rain fell there daily, so that we seemed to be living in a dry zone between the two storm systems. The forests of fir and birch trees came up to the limit of the rainfall and then ceased suddenly where the rain stopped a mile below us. At this point the Kharta River formed a sharp dividing line between the wet and dry zones.

The next day was spent in settling down, arranging all our stores and making a new dark room in the house we had rented. The climate here was delicious and a great change from Tingri. The temperature in my tent used to go up to 75 Fahr. during the day.

The day after we arrived the Jongpen came down to pay an official call and brought a welcome present of a hundred eggs and five animals laden with fuel. He apologised for not coming the day before, but said he had been very busy trying a murder case where eighteen people had been poisoned by a family that had a feud with them, the poison used being aconite, with which they were evidently quite familiar. He told us that our coolies could collect fuel anywhere on the right bank of the Kharta River, but begged that we would not collect it anywhere near where we were living, as the villagers would object.

On July 30 I started off to explore a neighbouring pa.s.s and valley which looked interesting. Mallory and Bullock were having a few days'

rest before starting off again, and so they remained in camp. Riding a few miles up the Kharta Valley, I crossed the river by a bridge at the first village, and then had a very steep and stony climb of nearly 3,000 feet to the Samchung Pa.s.s, 15,000 feet. As we approached the pa.s.s, and entered a moister climate, the vegetation increased rapidly. On these slopes there were rhododendrons 5 feet high, mountain ash, birch, willows, spiraeas and juniper. At the top of the pa.s.s there was not much of a view, but prowling round I came across some very fine saussuraeas with their great white woolly heads and a wonderful meconopsis of a deep claret colour that I had never seen before. There were fifteen to twenty flowers on each stem, and it grew from 2 to 3 feet high. Eight varieties of gentians also grew in the same valley, and a quant.i.ty of other attractive Alpine plants. From the pa.s.s we descended about 500 feet into a delightful high level glen full of small lakes, evidently once upon a time formed by glaciers which must have filled the whole of the valley.

I counted fourteen lakes in this valley, two or three of them being nearly half a mile long, and all of them of different colours varying from a turquoise blue to green and black. For some miles we rode and walked up the valley. The road consisted of big loose stones, often with water flowing underneath them, and usually with big holes in between, so that our ponies were lucky in not breaking their legs. There was then a steep climb which brought us on to a second pa.s.s, the Chog La, 16,100 feet, close to which were three small glaciers. Across the top of the pa.s.s there was a wall built many years ago as a second line of defence against the Gurkhas, the first line being on the top of the Popti Pa.s.s.