CONTENTS. (continued 7)

DESCENT INTO THE VALLEY OF THE CHENAB. June, 1848.

The descent on the north side was over snow, commencing a few feet from the rocky crest of the pass. After the first few hundred yards, the snow-bed was very steep, and perhaps covered a small glacier. Further on, the mountains on both sides closed in so as to form a narrow valley, the course of which I followed for many miles, before I could find a bare spot upon which to encamp. The valley was bounded on both sides by exceedingly steep rocky mountains, sometimes quite precipitous, which soon became bare of snow. After descending rapidly for a considerable time, patches of juniper appeared on the hill-sides, succeeded by birch, and soon after by a few pines, which, from their shape, were, I believe, silver fir. A little lower, pines became frequent wherever the mountain-sides were not absolutely precipitous; Picea and Pinus excelsa were first recognized, and a little lower down Abies Smithiana; deodar did not appear till I had nearly reached the end of the day's journey. I encamped at 8500 feet, on the first available bare spot, among a few pine-trees.

From the summit of the pass till within a few hundred yards of my encampment, snow was continuous in the valley along which I descended, covering the stream and the whole of the level portion of the valley for many miles after it had melted from the steep sloping hills on both sides, on which vegetation was already making rapid progress. This snow-bed was not in the least icy, but consisted of pure snow, much compressed and often dirty. Its slope followed that of the valley, and its surface was quite smooth till close to its termination, where it was broken up into fragments by the fall of portions into the stream below. The greater permanence of snow in valleys and ravines than on mountain slopes seems to be due to its accumulation there during the winter to a great depth by avalanches from both sides.

CHAPTER XII.

Marked change in the Vegetation—Bridge over Chenab—Pargwal—Description of Chenab valley—Asdhari—Chatargarh—Road turns up valley of Butna—Vegetation of Chenab valley—Chishot—Snow-beds—Camp at 10,500 feet—Ancient moraines—Glacier—Camp at 11,500 feet—Rapid ascent along glacier—Camp on moraine, at 14,600 feet—Change of weather—Ascent towards pass over glacier—Cross Umasi La—Descent—Immense glacier—Encamp in Tibet, at 13,800 feet—Open valley of Zanskar—Padum—Great change of climate—and in vegetation.

As a great part of my baggage and some of my servants did not reach camp till after dark, in the evening of the 12th of May, I halted on the 13th. I was encamped in a very narrow valley, on both sides of which lofty mountains rose very abruptly. The spurs which projected into this ravine were all of very peculiar configuration, their northern face being uniformly quite precipitous, while to the south, though still steep, they were green and sloping. I ascended on the southern slope of the spur, nearest to my tent, to a height of perhaps 1500 feet, without obtaining any extensive view of the valley of the Chenab, though I afterwards found that I was not more than two miles in a direct line from that river, but that the rocky mountains right and left, retaining their elevation till they were close to it, completely interrupted the view in every direction, except directly down the ravine, where a small portion of the snow-topped mountains beyond the river was visible.

VEGETATION OF CHENAB VALLEY. June, 1848.

From the great elevation of the mountains which I had just crossed, I was prepared to find a marked change in the aspect of the vegetation, and I was not disappointed. The steep slopes were covered with a most luxuriant herbage, above two feet in height. A tall panicled Rheum was very common, and numerous Umbelliferæ, Silene inflata, Geranium, and Pteris aquilina were abundant. The most remarkable plant, however, from the extreme quantity in which it occurred, was an Asphodelaceous plant (Eremurus, Bieb.), the long scapes of which, from four to five feet in height, covered the hill-sides in countless myriads. These scapes were clothed, for nearly half their length, with a profusion of elegant white flowers, very slightly tinged with a pale yellowish green. I met, during the day, with most of the characteristic plants of the Kunawar flora; as instances, I may mention Ephedra, Dictamnus, Rosa Webbiana, Dianthus, and Scutellaria orientalis. The arboreous vegetation was much the same as on the other side of the pass. The right side of the ravine was well clothed with pines, of all the four ordinary species; the left side was usually bare, the northern faces of the spurs, which are generally wooded, being too precipitous, but in the hollows there were a few small clumps of trees, principally pine, walnut, and sycamore.

VALLEY OF CHENAB June, 1848.

On the 14th of June I resumed my journey. The ravine in front was pronounced by my guides impracticable, and, as I afterwards saw, not without reason, as it gained the Chenab by running down an almost precipitous rocky slope between 1200 and 1500 feet in height. The road ascended the steep hills to the right rather abruptly, inclining to the north at the same time, till it gradually wound round the northern angle of the mountain range which formed the side of the ravine, when I found myself looking down on the valley of the Chenab from a height of about 3000 feet above the bed of the river. Unfortunately the day was foggy, with a light drizzling rain, or no doubt the view would have been magnificent. After rounding this rocky angle, the road ran parallel to the Chenab, but in a direction contrary to its course, and continued to rise very gently among shady forests, with scattered patches of snow. I conjectured at the time that an immediate descent was prevented by precipices below; and I afterwards ascertained from the opposite side of the river that such was the case. After about a mile and a half an extremely abrupt descent commenced, at first through dense forest, but afterwards among numerous fields and scattered houses, constituting a large village between 8000 and 9000 feet in elevation. Fruit-trees were abundant, principally walnut, of which there were many magnificent trees. The crops of wheat were not yet in ear.

PARGWAL June, 1848.

Below the village lands the road entered a forest of deodar, and continued to descend rapidly. The deodars continued nearly to the river, a few hundred feet only at the lowest part being covered with high brushwood, principally consisting of Fothergilla. The Chenab (or Chandrabhaga, as it is always called in the mountains) is a noble-looking, rapid stream, running through a deep rocky channel. It is crossed at a considerable height above the water by a good and substantial wooden bridge, from which the course of the valley could be seen both up and down, to a considerable distance; and in both directions the river flows between lofty ranges of mountains, generally very rocky and precipitous, and often finely wooded. I did not determine the elevation of the bed of the river, but believe that it may safely be stated to be about 7000 feet. After crossing the Chenab the road ascended very abruptly to the village of Pargwal, in which I encamped, at an elevation of about 8500 feet. On the lower part of the ascent the forest was much more luxuriant than on the opposite side, and than it usually is on slopes facing the south: this was caused by the great depth and narrowness of the ravine through which the river flowed.

This day's march was rendered unpleasant by rain, which commenced about seven A.M., and continued to fall steadily till near sunset; the sky being completely overcast, and the day nearly calm. It was, however, very gentle, so that the quantity which fell during the day was beyond a doubt much less than would have fallen with constant rain for an equal length of time in the outer ranges of mountains, where no snowy range is interposed to stop the rain-clouds. It did not rain again while I continued in the valley; still one day's experience would of itself be quite insufficient to warrant any conclusion, were it not that the inhabitants describe the climate as tolerably dry. Their account is, that the rains continue lightly at intervals for about a month from the middle of June, after which they cease entirely. I have already pointed out that the climate of lower Kunawar is precisely the same in character, and these two valleys are equally similar in situation with respect to the mountain ranges.

DESCRIPTION OF CHENAB VALLEY. June, 1848.

I had reached the Chenab at a point a good deal higher up than Chatargarh, from which place the most frequented road into the Zanskar valley turns to the north. There is, I believe, another pass a good deal more to the eastward, the road to which leaves the Chenab not far from the place where I crossed it; but I was informed that it is at all times extremely difficult, and that the season was still too early to attempt it. I therefore proceeded, on the 15th and 16th of June, down the right bank of the Chenab, through an exceedingly mountainous country, and generally at a great height above the stream, but with frequent descents to cross lateral torrents. The mountains to the north were generally crested with snow, and dipped very abruptly to the river. The north-west face of each ridge was invariably precipitous, so that all the descents along the road were abrupt, rocky, and difficult. Many villages were met with in the valley, and much cultivation usually high up on the sides of the mountains. Poplars (P. nigra and alba) and apricots were commonly planted, but the favourite fruit-tree seemed to be the walnut. I did not see any vines cultivated. On both days the scenery was extremely fine, varying with every turn of the valley; at times the view from the top of the scarped precipices, which were frequent, was of the grandest possible description. The south side of the valley, where not absolutely precipitous, was covered with forest, most frequently of pine; and on the north side, on which the road lay, though the upper parts were often bare and grassy, or only covered with brushwood, yet the banks of the river were usually well wooded, and all the ravines, which were deep and shady, were filled with a dense forest of deodar, horse-chesnut, hazel, sycamore, birch, and Fothergilla, with many other trees. Pinus Gerardiana, which may be looked upon as more characteristic of a moderately dry climate than any other tree, inasmuch as it will not flourish where the rains are at all heavy, was extremely common. On the 16th a great part of the road lay through an extensive wood, of a species of oak (Q. Ilex), which I had only before seen in Kunawar, where it is not uncommon.

On the 15th I encamped at the village of Asdhari, at an elevation of 8800 feet, and nearly 2000 feet above the river. On the 16th my halting-place was Shol, a large village close to the Chenab, with an extensive tract of cultivation, quite bare of trees, except a few cherries. The elevation of my tent was here about 6900 feet: it was not more than fifty feet above the river. Opposite the village, on the south bank of the river, under a cliff which screened it from the rays of the sun, there was a very large patch of snow.

CHATARGARH. June, 1848.

The early part of my march of the 17th was still along the Chenab, through fine shady forest, for about three miles, rising to the height of about 1000 feet, and again descending close to the water's edge. The road then continued nearly on a level with the stream, and became very rocky and difficult, planks of wood or rough bridges being laid in some places from rock to rock to effect a passage. Below this narrow rocky part of the channel the valley widened out on the north side into an open sandy plain, watered by a large tributary stream, descending from the north. Close to this stream lay the small fort of Chatargarh, the residence of the Thannadar of the valley, and of a small garrison of soldiers. The Butna, which here joins the Chenab, and up which my road lay, is a large impetuous stream. I crossed it a short way above the fort, by a good bridge, and, following its right bank for about two miles through oak forest, encamped at the village of Liundi.

The flora of the valley of the Chenab, as far as my road lay along it, continued to agree in most respects with that of Kunawar. As I descended the river, there were some indications of an approach to the vegetation of the outer Himalaya; but the number of species belonging to that flora which appeared was not great. A Zizyphus common in the lower Sutlej and in Kashmir, the common pomegranate, and a shrubby Desmodium, were those noted. This gradual transition in the character of the vegetation occurs equally in Kunawar; and as both the Sutlej and the Chenab commence their course in an arid climate, and enter the plains under the full influence of the rains, it is quite in accordance with what might be expected to happen. The change is in both valleys extremely gradual, and appears to be directly proportional to the diminished elevation of the mountains which run parallel to the rivers on the south.[19]

BUTNA VALLEY. June, 1848.

On the 18th of June my road again lay up the valley of the Butna, usually close to the stream, partly through bare country, with scattered bushes of Zizyphus and Daphne, but mostly through very beautiful forest of oak, alder, horse-chesnut, and ash. The river varied much in character; but for the most part it flowed with great rapidity over a rocky channel, and in one place formed a cataract of some size. More than once, however, and always above the most rapid parts, it was tranquil, though still swift, and flowed between gravelly islands. The hills on both sides were steep and lofty, and after the first two miles, patches of snow occurred in every ravine. I passed several villages and a good deal of cultivation, and encamped at Chishot, at about 8200 feet above the level of the sea.

ASCENT OF BUTNA VALLEY. June, 1848.

Next day, at starting, the road lay through pine-forests for about two miles, the elevation rapidly increasing. At about that distance, there was a very long rapid or cataract, with a fall of several hundred feet within a space of 150 or 200 yards. At the lower end of the rapid, the river disappeared under a snow-bed, which formed an arch across it from bank to bank. Above, the stream was wide and tranquil, and the pine-forest ceasing, the road entered an open valley, with much cultivation around the village of Himor. Along the water-courses by which the lands of this village were irrigated, there was a good deal of swampy ground, in which grew Parnassia, Polygonum viviparum, an Orchis not unlike O. latifolia, a Triglochin, and some Carices, all Kunawar species. Beyond the village, the valley continued open and bare, but was very rocky, and covered with large boulders. There was no wood, except in the ravines, which were occupied by groves of poplar (P. ciliata) and walnut; a few trees of the same and of birch being scattered over the hill-sides. No oak or Gerard's pine was seen during the day. The herbaceous vegetation on the open sunny banks was very luxuriant, and the species were mostly the same as I have recorded in a similar situation, and at the same elevation, on the 13th, after descending from the Sach pass. I must except the Eremurus, then so abundant, which was here entirely wanting. There were also a few novelties. Large tracts were covered with a tall fern (Pteris aquilina?). After passing through the cultivated lands of a second village, and crossing some snow-beds, the road entered a wood of stunted deodars, and, turning to the left, proceeded up the more northerly of two ravines, into which the valley here divided. That to the south, which in direction was a continuation of the valley, was filled with forest, but the one up which the road turned was steep and stony, and contained only a few scattered trees of birch, hazel, and poplar. After a march of about eight miles, I encamped on an open level spot, where there were a few fields, and one or two huts, at present uninhabited, at an elevation of 10,500 feet.

VIEW OF THE GLACIER. June, 1848.

On the 20th, I proceeded further up the same valley, ascending gently but steadily. The valley was open and bounded on both sides by steep rocky mountains, those on the right partially wooded with birch, on the other side quite bare. Behind, beyond the point from which I had the day before turned abruptly to the left, rose a lofty snowy peak, very steep and rocky; in front, only a very small portion of the snowy range which I was rapidly approaching could be seen. The stream was for the most part covered with snow, and the road crossed numerous snow-beds. At first, the hill-sides were rounded and covered with vegetation, but very soon the road became rocky, and was covered as yesterday with enormous boulders, evidently indicative of a former glacier. These were all gneiss, which rock also occurred in situ, as had been the case ever since I had left Chatargarh, where it replaced the clay-slate, which had been common on the banks of the Chenab. After walking for about two miles among these huge masses of rock, I suddenly emerged into open country, and, after descending a few feet, entered a level plain, nearly two miles in length and at least half a mile in width, partly covered with snow stretching down from the ravines on each side. This plain appeared to have been at one time the bed of a small lake; and as its lower end was crossed by an evident moraine, it seems probable that a glacier had at some former period crossed the valley and dammed up the channel of the stream. Small groves of willow of two distinct species, one twelve to fifteen feet high, the other not above two or three, were scattered over this plain. The surface, where free from snow, was usually grassy, and near the lower end very swampy. The snow had evidently very recently covered the whole surface, as few plants were yet in flower, except a bright blue gentian in the marshy parts, and a viscid Cerastium on the gravel. A species of rhubarb was abundant on the banks surrounding this plain, and its acid leaf-stalks were eagerly eaten by the men who carried my luggage. The road traversed the whole length of this level tract, and, at its upper end, crossed two low ridges of boulders, evidently moraines. Beyond these lay another plain, much more barren and desolate-looking than the previous one, the greater part being still covered with snow. Those parts from which the snow had melted were gravelly, with scarce a vestige of vegetation. I encamped on the last bare spot of this plain, close to extensive snow-beds, from below which the stream flowed, and about a mile from the end of a large glacier which filled up the end of the valley, but was cut off abruptly at the commencement of the open plain. The elevation of my tent was 11,400 feet. The plain on which I was encamped was surrounded on all sides by lofty mountains, all extremely steep and rugged. Those to the south and east were covered with snow to the very base, but to the north little or no snow was visible, the hills close at hand rising so abruptly that they entirely excluded the view of the ranges behind. The southern slopes from the base to the height of about 1000 feet were covered with birch-trees, still quite leafless, except a few on the edge of the plain, which were beginning to throw out buds, the snow having melted round their roots.

On the 21st of June I continued my journey over the snow-bed close to which I had encamped, in the direction of the end of the glacier. While still several hundred yards distant from it, the road turned abruptly to the left, ascending a very steep stony hill, which formed the side of a lateral ravine descending from the north. When I had ascended a few hundred feet, I obtained an excellent view of the glacier which occupied the valley below. Its surface, from the great slope of the valley, was extremely irregular, and to all appearance quite impassable, from the numerous fissures which traversed it in every direction, and the irregular pinnacles of ice which rose above its surface. It was terminated abruptly by a perpendicular cliff, which projected more in the centre than on the sides, and was much and deeply fissured both horizontally and perpendicularly. The glacier was in parts covered with masses of boulders and gravel, on which lay a sprinkling of snow in small patches. The lateral moraines were well marked, being much higher than the surface of the glacier, and separated by a deep fissure from the rocky wall of the valley. Immediately in front of the termination of the glacier, the surface of the plain was free from snow; numerous boulders of large size were scattered over it, and large masses of ice, evidently fragments of the glacier, lay among them.

ASCENT TOWARDS BARDAR PASS. June, 1848.

The ascent of the lateral ravine continued steep, sometimes over rock, often over what appeared to be an ancient moraine, and now and then over grassy sward, adorned with numerous alpine plants in full flower. Among these was a little Iris, which I had seen the day before in fruit, Podophyllum, Fritillaria, and a pretty rose-coloured Pedicularis. There were a few stunted bushes of birch on the first part of the ascent, but they were soon left behind. After ascending about 1500 feet, I passed a singular-looking little circular plain, perhaps half a mile in diameter, still covered with snow. The road lay on the left of this plain over a hill of boulders. It now ascended very rapidly, and soon reached another glacier, the termination of which was extremely oblique, being prolonged much further on the right or south-east side of the ravine than on the other. The slope of the valley was so extremely abrupt, that the surface of the glacier was fissured in a most extraordinary manner; and it was still partially covered with snow. The road ascended over the moraine which lay between the glacier and the wall of the valley, generally at a great height above the level of the ice. In the crevices of the stones one or two plants still lingered: Primula minutissima was in flower, and a little Sedum and a dwarf willow (S. repens, L.) were beginning to expand their buds. My day's march amounted to about five miles, and I encamped upon the moraine on a level piece of ground just large enough to hold my tent, and close to the glacier. The temperature of boiling water indicated an elevation of about 14,600 feet. All around was snow and ice, except one steep sloping bank facing the south, on the most sheltered corner of which my baggage porters established themselves. On this bank vegetation had already made considerable progress: at least a dozen species were in flower, of which the most abundant were a rose-coloured Polygonum, a Potentilla, and Ranunculus, and, most abundant of all, a beautiful blue Gymnandra.

The surface of the glacier opposite to my tent was much covered with debris, and many large boulders were imbedded in the ice, which was very much fissured, rising into sharp pinnacles. As the day advanced, it was traversed by numerous rills of water, and the sound of falling stones was heard in every direction.

I had hitherto been extremely fortunate in weather, considering the season; but just at sunset, a few light clouds having first appeared in the south horizon, the sky became suddenly overcast, and light snow began to fall. Very little fell during the night, but at daybreak on the 22nd of June, just as I was preparing to start, it began to snow rather heavily. I had unfortunately no choice but to proceed. The place in which I was encamped was not at all adapted for a resting-place during a heavy fall of snow; and arrangements had already been made for the relief of the baggage porters who had come with me, by a party of Zanskaries at the top of the pass on this day.

LARGE GLACIER. June, 1848.

The first part of the ascent lay up the moraine parallel to the glacier, and was extremely steep for nearly 1000 feet of perpendicular elevation, up to the top of the very abrupt ravine in which I had been encamped. Beyond this, the valley widened considerably; and as its slope was now very gentle, the glacier was quite smooth, and the path lay over its surface, which was covered by a considerable layer (five or six inches) of last winter's snow, as well as by a sprinkling of that which had fallen during the night. The ice was a good deal fissured, but in general the fissures were not more than a few inches in width; a few only were as much as two feet. The road continued for two or three miles over the surface of the glacier, which gradually widened out as I advanced. Its upper part was expanded into an icy plain of great width, bounded by a semicircular arch of precipitous rocks, except where three ravines descended into it, down which three narrow glaciers flowed to contribute a supply of ice to the vast mass in the bay. On the smooth ice below, central moraines were very visible, and could be distinctly traced to the rocks by which the three smaller glaciers were separated. A great part of these central moraines were covered with snow; but now and then an immense detached boulder of gneiss was seen, supported by a column of clear blue ice, veined with horizontal white bands, by which it was raised high above the surface of the glacier, and the snow which covered it.

SUMMIT OF PASS. June, 1848.

The three branches which united to form this grand sea of ice were very steep, and consequently much fissured and fractured. The road lay up that to the right, ascending by the moraine to the left of the glacier, the surface of the ice being quite impracticable. This ascent, which I estimated at the time to amount to at least 1000 feet, was exceedingly steep and laborious, as beneath a thin layer of fresh snow it was covered with hard frozen snow, on which the footing was quite insecure. On attaining the summit of this steep ascent, I found the surface of the glacier much more smooth, the inclination of the bed of the ravine having suddenly changed; it was now, however, covered with a layer of snow several feet thick, which probably tended to render small inequalities of surface unobservable. I was now in a wide valley or basin, the rocky hills on both sides rising precipitously to a height of from 200 to 1000 feet above the level of the snow. After perhaps two miles of gradual ascent, these rocky walls gradually closing in united in a semicircle in front, and the road passed through a gorge or fissure in the ridge, to the crest of which the snow-bed had gradually sloped up. This fissure, which was not more than two feet in width, was the pass, but when I reached it, snow was falling so thickly that I could not see ten yards in any direction. I therefore remained only long enough to ascertain that the boiling-point of water was 180·3°, indicating an elevation of at least 18,000 feet.

The commencement of the descent was very rapid down a narrow gorge, into which the fissure at the top widened by degrees. The fresh snow, which had fallen to the depth of at least a foot, was quite soft and yielding, so that great caution was required. After four or five hundred yards, the slope became more gradual and the ravine considerably wider. The road was now evidently over the surface of a glacier. The mountains on both sides were extremely rocky, rugged, and precipitous. Each lateral ravine brought an additional stream of ice to swell that in the central one; and on each lateral glacier there was a moraine which had to be crossed. Further on, the slope again increasing, the road left the surface of the glacier, and ascended the moraine by its side. This was at first covered with deep snow, both old and fresh; but as I advanced I found the old snow only in patches, but covered with a layer of new. At last I reached a point at which the snow melted as it fell, and not long after the glacier stopped abruptly, a considerable stream issuing from beneath the perpendicular wall by which it terminated.

IMMENSE GLACIER. June, 1848.

Beyond the end of the glacier the valley continued very steep. It was several hundred feet across, and covered with loose stones of various sizes, over which the stream ran in a wide shallow channel. Lower down, the bed of the rivulet became contracted and rocky, and I crossed to its right bank over a natural bridge consisting of one large stone, ten or twelve feet long, which had fallen so as to lie across the rocky channel. Advancing a few paces beyond this bridge, I suddenly found myself at the end of the ravine, and overlooking a wide valley many hundred feet below, filled by an enormous glacier descending from the left. This glacier was completely covered with a mass of debris, which entirely concealed the ice, and from its enormous dimensions must have had a very distant source. I had no means at the time of determining with accuracy either its width or depth, nor do I find any estimate of it (except in superlatives) in my notes made on the spot; I cannot, therefore, at this distance of time, venture to give any exact dimensions: I can only say that it much exceeded in size any that I have before or since had an opportunity of seeing.

It was just at the termination of the upper ravine that the first traces of vegetation were observed: till reaching this point the rocks and gravel had been quite bare. The first plant observed was Primula minutissima; the only other in flower was a large purple-coloured Crucifera (a species of Parrya), but leaves of several others were beginning to expand.

ZANSKAR. June, 1848.

The road did not descend at once into the large valley, but, turning abruptly to the right, ran parallel to the glacier but high above it on the rocky mountain-side, for nearly a mile, gradually descending so as to reach the bottom of the valley just as the glacier ended. The valley beyond its termination was wide and stony, and I encamped among a number of very large boulders about half a mile further on. The elevation of my camp was 13,800 feet, so that I had descended upwards of 4000 feet from the top of the pass. I found that the inhabitants on the two sides of the pass knew it by different names, those of Padar, on the south, calling it the Bardar pass, while to the Zanskaries it is known as Umasi La.

The morning of the 23rd of June was bright and clear, but intensely frosty. The valley in which I was encamped was enclosed by lofty mountains covered with much snow, though on the level ground there were only a few patches. The road lay down the valley, which soon became narrow and stony, and the descent somewhat rapid. The ground was at first quite bare, and devoid of any sort of vegetation, except here and there on the bank of the stream, where, close to the water's edge, a small patch of green was occasionally to be seen. The narrowest parts of the ravine were occupied by large snow-beds, entirely covering the rivulet, but at intervals the valley widened out into a gravelly plain. After about a mile, some vegetation began to appear, and after four or five miles it became plentiful. The banks of the stream, in the wide and gravelly parts, were fringed with dwarf willows just bursting into leaf. Primula minutissima was plentiful in the crevices of the stones, and I met with many plants scattered about, of which none but the very earliest were yet in flower. Two or three species only could be identified with the plants of the Indian side of the pass; the majority were quite different. Lithospermum Euchromon of Royle, and the Parrya first seen the day before, were among the commonest species; several other Cruciferæ were also seen, as well as a Gentiana, one or two Astragali, a species of Meconopsis, a small Gagea, Ephedra, and Nepeta glutinosa. Species of Artemisia, Cynoglossum and other Boragineæ, of Polygonum and Rheum, though not in flower, were recognizable, but the greater number of plants were only beginning to vegetate. As I descended, a few shrubs of Lonicera hispida and of Rosa Webbiana (the Tibet rose) were met with, but all very stunted.

VALLEY OF ZANSKAR. June, 1848.

The valley continued to descend, and the snow soon receded to some distance up the mountain-sides. At last I came to a single habitation, a little monastery inhabited by one Lama, and built under the precipitous rocks on the left side of the valley. A very small patch of cultivation lay on the bank of the stream just below it; the corn was not more than two or three inches high. A little further on, the road suddenly turned into a much larger and more open valley, watered by a considerable stream, which ran through a wide, open, gravelly channel, from which long and very slightly inclined gravelly slopes extended on both sides to the base of the mountains. The stream proved to be the western branch of the Zanskar river. To the north-westward of the point where I entered its valley, its upward course was visible for eight or ten miles, all the way through an open gravelly plain. Several villages and a good deal of cultivation were seen in that direction, on the slopes descending from the mountains.

My road lay to the eastward down the valley, partly through cultivated lands, partly over barren gravelly or stony plains, and often over grassy meadows on the banks of the river. Wheat, barley, and peas were the crops cultivated, all only a few inches in height. Round the fields and on the banks of the water-courses a luxuriant herbage was beginning to spring up, which contrasted strongly with the sterility of the stony plains. The fields were quite flat and generally unenclosed, the valley being too level to require terracing; small canals conducted water for irrigation to every field. The villages were all small and bare, and during the day I saw only a single tree—a small poplar—in a garden or enclosure at one of the last villages through which I passed, before halting for the day. I encamped, after a march of at least twelve miles, near the village of Markim, on a fine grassy plain close to the river, the banks of which were lined by a few bushes of Myricaria and Hippophaë. The elevation of my tent was 12,100 feet.

In the valley of the Chenab the prevailing rock had everywhere been clay-slate, but where I turned up the valley of the Butna it was replaced by gneiss, which continued to form the whole mountain-mass on both sides of the Umasi pass, so far as I could infer the nature of their structure from the boulders brought down by glaciers. On the earlier part of this day's journey, the gneiss gave place again to mica-slate and clay-slate; but in the wide valley, where no rock was seen in situ, the boulders were all composed of gneiss, and had probably, therefore, been transported from the upper part of the mountains.

PADUM. June, 1848.

On the 24th of June I continued my journey to Padum, which is considered the capital of Zanskar. My road lay still east, down a wide, open plain. The mountains on the north side of the valley were not to appearance very lofty, and were merely tipped with snow; those to the south were much higher and had a great deal of snow, which, however, did not come within perhaps 1500 feet of the plain. There was no snow in the plain itself, which had a width of from two to four miles. Cultivated tracts were frequent, occurring wherever water was easily procurable for irrigation, but the greater part of the surface was dry, barren, and stony, producing scarcely any herbage. The river ran through a wide, gravelly bed, and was divided into numerous channels. It was often fringed with low jungle of Myricaria and Hippophaë, two shrubs which, though not entirely confined to Tibet, are most abundant in every part of that country up to nearly 14,000 feet, in the gravelly beds of streams. In some places the banks of the stream were very low and swampy, and covered with turf. About half-way down the plain the different branches of the river united into one, which ran with a swift impetuous current over the boulders which formed its bed, the melting of the snow on the mountains having brought down a very large body of water. At this point it was crossed by a rope-bridge, leading to a large village on the left bank. A little further on I passed through a considerable village, with extensive cultivated lands, and a large well-built monastery, in which, I believe, Csoma de Körös resided while in Zanskar. The road then made a considerable detour to the south, to the base of the mountains, to reach a bridge over a lateral stream now so much swollen as to be unfordable. After crossing this stream by a good wooden bridge, the road entered an open grassy plain sloping imperceptibly from the mountains towards the river, at the south-east angle of which lay the town or village of Padum.

Padum, which was at one time the principal place in Zanskar, is, though now much decayed, still considered as such, probably both from its central situation and from the garrison of Gulab Singh's troops being established near it. It is built on a low hill lying at the south-east corner of a wide open plain which surrounds the junction of two large streams which here unite to form the Zanskar river. Of these, one descending from the south runs through a rocky and barren country, which contains, I was informed, but few and small villages. It is that to which Moorcroft, who crossed it near its source, has given the name of Zanskar; and as it appears to the eye the larger stream of the two, it will probably be found entitled to retain the name, although the district watered by the western branch, which runs gently through an open country, is much more fertile and populous. The junction of these two streams takes place four or five miles north of Padum. The plain is partly low and partly a platform nearly a hundred feet above the level of the rivers.

CLIMATE OF ZANSKAR. June, 1848.

Entirely secluded by lofty ranges of snowy mountains from the approach of any moisture-bringing winds, the valley of Zanskar has an absolutely Tibetan climate. Tree vegetation is entirely wanting, and the mountains and plains are dry, barren, and desolate. At the same time, from the dryness of the summer, the powerful influence of the sun induces here, as elsewhere in Tibet, a much milder climate than prevails at an equal elevation within the influence of the periodical rains, for in no part of the Indian portion of the mountains does any cultivated valley exist at an elevation of 12,000 feet above the level of the sea. The extent of open country is more considerable in this portion of the Zanskar valley than elsewhere in the basin of the Indus. Villages also are frequent, particularly in the lower part, and the cultivated lands of many of them are extensive. The alluvial platforms are of great extent, and so nearly level, that no terracing is required for purposes of irrigation. On this account, and from the total want of fences, the appearance of the plain is remarkable, and very different from that usual around Tibetan villages. At the period of my visit, the crops were only a few inches in height, and the whole population were busy in the fields, irrigating them and keeping out straggling cattle. The inhabitants, in appearance, manners, and mode of life, are the same as those of Ladak; their language and religion too are the same, as far as I could learn.

VEGETATION OF ZANSKAR. June, 1848.

The change of climate was, as a matter of course, accompanied by an almost total change of vegetation, which had assumed entirely the Tibetan character. Scarcely more than a fourth, on a rough estimate, of the species observed, were the same as grew on the Indian side of the pass. Of these, a very few were cosmopolitan or widely-diffused plants. Such were Thymus Serpyllum, Plantago Asiatica, Taraxacum, Veronica biloba, Medicago lupulina, and Polygonum aviculare or a closely-allied species. The greater number were species of the dry climate, which, from being capable of bearing a certain quantity of moisture, vegetate also in the first valleys on the opposite side of the pass, though quite incapable of living under the full influence of the rains: as instances, I may mention Rosa Webbiana, Myricaria, Hippophaë, Ephedra, Aquilegia Moorcroftiana, and several Astragali.

Excluding both these classes, more than two-thirds of the plants were entirely different from those which flourish on the Indian side. The season was early spring, so that a great part of the vegetation was still dormant, but it was making rapid strides under the influence of a powerful sun, particularly in the neighbourhood of the town of Padum, which appeared to be the warmest nook in the valley. The dry, barren tracts, which constitute the greater part of the surface, produced numerous, generally dwarf species of Boragineæ and Cruciferæ. Three Potentillæ were common, one of them P. anserina. Near the river there was a more luxuriant vegetation. Rank species of Heracleum, Astragalus, Scrophularia, Matthiola, and Eurotia were coming into flower under the shelter of walls and bushes. In richer soil a species of Hyoscyamus, with pale yellow trumpet-shaped flowers (Belenia of Decaisne), was common, while around the fields grew species of Geranium, Cynoglossum, Nepeta, and Astragalus. Except a little Poa, no grasses were yet in flower, but several small Cyperaceæ formed dense patches of turf. The meadows close to the edge of the river were invariably swampy, and had a peculiar vegetation of their own, consisting of two species of Triglochin, a white-flowered Taraxacum, a little Primula, Ranunculus Cymbalaria, and Glaux, with Hippuris and Utricularia in the pools of water.

CHAPTER XIII.

Rope bridge across Zanskar river—Tongde—Zangla—Road leaves Zanskar river—Takti La—Nira—Bridge over Zanskar river—Singhi La—Phutaksha—Wandla—Lama Yuru—Cross Indus river—Kalatze—Nurla—Saspola—Nimo—Le—Pass north of Le—Small glacier—Kardong—Kalsar—Vegetation—Diskit—Passage of Shayuk river—Upper Nubra—Vegetation of Nubra—Hot spring at Panamik.

TONGDE. June, 1848.

I remained at Padum two days, to make inquiries as to the road and arrangements for porters and supplies. On the 27th of June, I commenced my journey towards the Indus. The road lay down the valley of Zanskar, crossing the eastern branch of that river opposite the town of Padum, by a rather insecure-looking rope-bridge, high above the stream, which was deep, rapid, and muddy. The rope, as is usual in Tibet, was formed of willow twigs. After crossing this bridge, I followed the right bank of the stream in a north-easterly direction, principally over dry, desert, stony plains, considerably elevated above the river. These high banks were composed of fine clay, which was occasionally quite pure, but more frequently contained numerous fragments of a black slate rock. These were especially abundant where lateral ravines descended from the mountains, while in the intervening spaces the clay was comparatively free of them. The same black slate cropped out in situ in several places along the bank of the river; and from the numerous boulders everywhere scattered over the surface of the platform, it appeared to be the prevailing rock in the mountains on the right. The platforms usually terminated abruptly, being either scarped or sloping very steeply towards the river. A strip of low, wet, grassy ground, which was more or less covered with Hippophaë jungle, was generally interposed between the cliffs and the river. When this was absent, the steep slopes were barren till close to the water's edge. On the left bank of the river, after the first two miles, the table-land sank, an extensive low plain forming a tongue of land between the two branches. On this low land, close to the eastern river, and about two miles from the town of Padum, lay the fort occupied by the military force of the valley: a small square, with four round bastions. After marching nine or ten miles, I encamped at a small village called Tongde, among undulating clay hills, by which the view of the river and valley was excluded. Nearly opposite, a mile or two below the junction of the two rivers, was Karsha, at present the largest town in Zanskar: it lies in a ravine at a considerable distance from the river, and, from the steepness of the slope on which it is built, presents rather an imposing appearance. The level tract intervening between the town and the river was covered with cultivation.

ZANGLA. June, 1848.

On the 28th, I continued along the valley, but in a more northerly direction than the day before. The lofty snowy range to the south-west was now finely seen, forming a semicircle of rocky peaks behind Padum. The road lay again over dry plains, partly stony, partly hard clay; even the banks of the river were dry and stony, without a vestige of turf. The only species worthy of note which occurred during the day, in addition to the plants common on these barren tracts, was Oxytropis chiliophylla: it was very scarce at the beginning of the march, but before I had reached half-way it had become so abundant that at a distance the ground appeared of a bright red colour, from the immense abundance of its flowers. Several villages were passed on the road, and two considerable streams, both of which had excavated deep ravines in the loose conglomerate of which the plateau was formed. On the latter part of the march, the mountains which formed the right side of the valley approached close to the river, leaving no passage along the bank, so that the road made a short steep ascent over loose shingly debris and rocky ground, and continued for more than a mile along the face of the ridge. After that distance, it descended to a grassy, saline, very swampy plain, close to the river. I encamped at the village of Zangla, which lies at the base of the mountains, on the upper part of a steep stony slope, extending down to the river.

The alluvial platforms during this day's journey were generally of great thickness. This was especially the case around Tongde, where the clay formation formed considerable hills; and on the latter part of the march, where the mountains advanced nearly to the stream. Here high banks of clay were accumulated on the ridges, and were frequently, as in many other parts of Tibet, worn into fantastic shapes by the melting of the snow. Near Zangla, too, detached masses were seen clinging to the sides of the mountains, at considerable heights, in positions which indicated great denudation.

THE ROAD LEAVES THE VALLEY OF ZANSKAR. June, 1848.

The result of my inquiries at Padum had been, that the lower part of the course of the Zanskar river (which I had hoped I might be able to follow to its junction with the Indus) was so rocky and difficult as to be impracticable, and that at the present season, when the torrents were all swollen by the melting snow, the only practicable road to the Indus lay through the mountains, at a distance from the river. I was now approaching the point where the road entered the mountains, and could already see that the fine open valley through which I had been travelling was soon to have an end. At Zangla it had become sensibly narrower, and the mountains on both sides, still tipped with snow, were extremely rocky and rugged.

The earlier part of the march of the 29th of June was still parallel to the river, partly over table-land, at other times through a dense jungle of Hippophaë, which covered its low banks, as well as several islands in its channel. After about four miles, the road turned suddenly to the right, and, leaving the valley altogether, commenced a rapid ascent on the steep slope of the mountain. From the point at which the road turned off, the Zanskar valley ahead could be seen to narrow rapidly, by the closing-in of the mountains. A turn in its direction, at the distance of four or five miles, hid the further course of the river from view, but the steep scarped mountains, which seemed to rise almost perpendicularly from its bed, left no doubt of the difficult nature of the country through which it ran.

The first part of the ascent was very steep and bare. A prickly Statice, in dense round tufts, made its appearance after the first few hundred feet, accompanied by another very common Tibetan plant, which had not been met with in the open plain, a species of Cicer, described by Bentham as C. microphyllum, if indeed the Siberian C. Soongaricum be not the same species. This plant is remarkable, not only for a very viscid exudation, but also for its peculiar strong aromatic and pungent odour, which, except that it is very much more powerful, a good deal resembles that of its cultivated congener C. arietinum, the well-known gram of Upper India. It also recalls to mind the smell of the common black currant, which, however, is more aromatic and less pungent and acidulous. On the lower part of the ascent the prevailing rock was limestone, of a dark bluish-grey colour, extremely hard, containing many white veins and crystals of calcareous spar; it closely resembled the limestone of the Hangarang pass, and, like it, alternated with hornstone and cherty quartz rock, and with finely laminated slates.

MOUNTAINS ON RIGHT BANK OF ZANSKAR RIVER. June, 1848.

On leaving the bare slope, the road entered a narrow ravine, and continued to ascend rapidly along the bank of the streamlet which trickled down it. The ravine was full of loose angular stones, and had on both sides high rocky precipices of limestone and slate. Close to the little rivulet, a willow, a Lonicera, and a rose grew in great plenty among the loose stones, forming a dense bushy mass of green, six or eight feet high, which contrasted strongly with the barrenness of the shingle remote from the water, and of the rocky walls on either side. The ascent was rapid, and ere long, as the elevation increased, the shrubby vegetation disappeared, and the only plants which grew among the loose fragments of slate were a few small alpine species: Anemone, Corydalis, Thermopsis, and Androsace, were the genera to which these hardy plants belonged. In the crevices of the rocks, a large fleshy-leaved saxifrage, of the subgenus Bergenia, was common: it was a different species from either of the two hitherto described from India, as well as from S. crassifolia of Siberia, and was particularly interesting as a connecting link between these two floras. Further on, the ascent became more gentle; a few small patches of snow were passed, and soon after, the road ascended a very steep and shingly slope after the north side of the ravine, to the crest of a ridge, the elevation of which I estimated at about 15,500 feet.

The top of the ridge was rounded, and had more soil, and, as a consequence, more vegetation, than the stony dell below. Several plants of the valley reappeared, particularly Lithospermum Euchromon and a species of Cynoglossum, both of which seem to have a wide range in altitude. A few new species of Cruciferæ and Astragalus were obtained on the ridge. There was a very good and extensive view to the north, of mountain behind mountain, all bare and desolate; but in every other direction ridges close at hand intercepted the view. The most distant ridge had much snow on it, and appeared very elevated: I supposed it to be that between the Zanskar river and the Indus. After leaving the ridge, the road gradually descended towards the north, down a ravine full of fragments of slate: the hills on both sides were low and rounded. On the descent, Caragana versicolor, the Dama of the Tibetans, occurred very plentifully; it is, however, in general, much less common in the north-west parts of Tibet than further to the south, where it is very luxuriant. Following the course of the ravine, after a considerable distance, I observed bushes of willow and Lonicera to appear in the dry channel, and almost immediately afterwards a little water was found trickling down it, so that I was enabled to encamp, after rather a fatiguing march, at an elevation of about 13,700 feet.

NARROW RAVINE. June, 1848.

Next day I continued to descend the ravine. The hills were now considerably higher and more rugged than in the upper part, and were faced by cliffs of a clayey conglomerate, partly soft, but often indurated. A rapidly decaying yellowish slate, in highly inclined strata, was seen occasionally in the bed of the river. The stream was, as usual, fringed by willow and Lonicera; and a species of poplar, forming a small tree, occurred frequently. There was scarcely a single vestige of vegetation on the mountain-sides. After descending about two miles, I reached a large ravine, the slope of which was much more gradual. The banks were still composed of clay conglomerate, which rose in lofty precipices on both sides; after about three miles, however, this disappeared, and the ravine became very narrow and rocky. The road was now very rugged, ascending high on the mountain-side, and then descending to cross the stream. The limestone cliffs, which here approached within ten or twelve feet of one another, were marked with horizontal undulating grooves, perhaps indicative of the former existence of a glacier in this spot. As I advanced, after crossing to the right bank of the stream, the road became still more rocky and difficult, till at last the ravine in front became quite impracticable. I now turned suddenly to the right, and entered a narrow passage with perpendicular walls of rock, down which ran a very small streamlet. In this dark shady dell, which was so narrow that the light of the sun could not possibly reach the bottom, there were several large patches of snow. The ascent was at first rapid, but after a mile and a half the slope became more gradual and the ravine considerably wider. The usual shrubs then appeared on the water's edge, close to which I encamped, after a march of perhaps nine miles, at about 13,600 feet, very nearly the same elevation as the place from which I had started in the morning, and in an equally desert situation. The whole march was exceedingly barren, and without any cultivation or village. A few small bushes of juniper (J. excelsa) were met with about half-way, for the first time during my present journey.

TAKTI PASS. June, 1848.

On the 1st of July, I continued the ascent of the ravine, which was still extremely barren and stony, except in the immediate vicinity of the stream, where the usual vegetation of willow and Lonicera continued plentiful. A few birch-trees were seen on the road-side. After following the ravine for nearly two miles, I reached a point at which it divided into two branches. The luggage porters took that to the right, which was said to be easier, but longer, while my guide led me to the left, up a steep ravine, which, after a few hundred yards, contracted to a mere fissure three to six feet in width, with very lofty rocky walls, and full of loose shingle. In several places, large masses of hard smooth ice had to be passed, which, from the steepness of the slope, proved no easy task, and would certainly have been almost an impossibility for loaded men. After passing through this fissure, which, as usual, opened out in its upper part, the road turned to the left up a long steep shingly hill-side, to the top of the ridge, which was rounded. While in the ravine I saw no plants; but on the shingly ascent a number of alpine species made their appearance. One of the first was an Anemone, but by far the most abundant was a yellow species of Thermopsis, which was in full flower, and seemed to thrive best among loose stones. A small Veronica, with bright blue flowers, occurred several times on the ascent.

The pass over this ridge is called Takti La. Its elevation was, according to my observation of the boiling-point of water, 16,360 feet. The mountains to the right and left, rising perhaps 1500 feet higher than the pass, obstructed all view. Behind, the landscape was shut in by a lofty snowy mountain, not a mile off; and in front, part of the same snowy range which I had observed from the ridge two days before, was visible. There was a good deal of vegetation at the top, which was in part swampy round a small spring, where probably the snow had only recently melted. The plants were all alpine: Biebersteinia odora, a well-known North Asiatic form, was very common, with several Ranunculaceæ and Cruciferæ, and one or two species of Polygonum.

NIRA. July, 1848.

On the steep shingly ascent which faced the south, I had met with no snow till close to the top, when I saw a few very small patches. On leaving the top of the pass, the road continued to run along the side of the mountain on the left hand, nearly level for about a mile. As I got more fully on the north face, I found snow lying in large patches, which were melting rapidly; and when fairly on the northern slope, I found that, though very steep, it was covered by a continuous bed of snow from the very crest down to about 15,500 feet, as near as I could guess. The view to the north, which, from the pass itself, had been very limited, was now extensive. The range in front was everywhere tipped with snow, and the road up to its crest, with the pass by which I was to cross it, were distinctly visible. Between this range and that on which I stood was interposed the deep ravine of the Zanskar river, the course of which could be traced for a long way, though from the precipitous rocks through which it ran, the stream itself could not be seen.

I find it extremely difficult to describe in an adequate manner the extreme desolation of the most barren parts of Tibet, where no luxuriant forest or bright green herbage softens the nakedness of the mountains, but everywhere the same precipices, heaps of rocks, and barren monotonous deserts meet the eye. The prospect now before me was certainly most wonderful. I had nowhere before seen a country so utterly waste. At the great elevation on which I stood I completely overlooked the valley, and the two or three villages which I afterwards found to exist were either seen as mere spots, or concealed by ranges of hills. Directly in front, across the Zanskar river, a rocky precipice, worn and furrowed in every direction, and broken into sharp pinnacles, rose to the height of at least 2000 feet, overhanging a deep ravine, while to the right and left mountain was heaped upon mountain in inextricable confusion, large patches of snow crowning the highest parts.

From the edge of the snow I descended rapidly to the village of Nira. On the earlier part of the descent, the ground was soft and miry from the recent melting of the snow, which still lay in the more shady parts in large patches. A bright yellow Ranunculus, with numerous petals, and the pretty Lloydia serotina were plentiful close to the snow. Further down, the road was extremely stony, and the descent very abrupt, but towards the end I followed the course of a small streamlet, the margins of which were skirted by a belt not more than a foot in width of vividly green turf. The village of Nira, in which I encamped, was 12,900 feet above the level of the sea: its cultivated lands were extensive, and both in the village and on the hills around, juniper-trees of considerable size were common.

CROSS ZANSKAR RIVER. July, 1848.

YULCHUNG. July, 1848.

On the 2nd of July I crossed the Zanskar river to the village of Yulchung (13,700 feet). At Nira, besides the usual crops of barley, there was a good deal of buckwheat, which was just above ground. The fields were bordered, as usual, by a rank vegetation. A Nepeta, very like N. Sibthorpiana, was quite new to me, and a tall erect Wahlenbergia, with very large pale greenish-blue flowers, and coarse, somewhat fetid leaves, was very abundant, just coming into flower; the rest of the plants observed were the same as in the upper part of Zanskar. The stream which ran by the village had in some places spread out into a marshy meadow, in which a large pink-flowered Cardamine or Dentaria occurred plentifully, with Orchis latifolia? a white Juncus, and many common plants.

Below the village the descent was bare and stony, and extremely abrupt the whole way down to the river; the Tibetan rose was in full flower on the road-side. The river did not come into sight till it was close at hand, the bottom of the ravine through which it flowed being narrow and rocky. A common wooden bridge, without side-rails, forty or fifty feet above the surface of the water, was thrown over at the narrowest part, where the stream was hemmed in by high rocky walls, and was, I think, not more than forty feet broad. The current was rapid, and the water much discoloured. The course of the river at the bridge was easterly, but below, after a slight bend to the south of east, the valley seemed to take a more northerly direction, and above the bridge it came from the south-west. The banks of the river did not seem to be at all practicable, and I was informed that it was only when the river was frozen that travellers could proceed down it to Le. Accounts differed much as to the length of time required for the journey, and I could not discover that any of my party had ever travelled it, so that I presume the route is not very much frequented.

Immediately after crossing the river, a long, steep, utterly barren ascent commenced over stones and shingle. A deep ravine, with a small stream at the bottom, lay to the right of the road, beyond which were the lofty rugged precipices which had been so conspicuous from the heights the day before. At about 13,000 feet I gained the summit of a projecting ridge, which rose, a little to the right, into a rocky peak, and then sank abruptly down to the ravine. The road then dipped into a hollow filled with large boulders and fragments of rock, perhaps of glacial origin, and rose again more gradually to a second ridge, in the hollow beyond which lay the village at which I had determined to encamp, its lowest houses overhanging the deep ravine on the right. The elevation not being materially different from that of Nira, the plants of the cultivated grounds were the same. Potentilla anserina was very plentiful, and remarkably luxuriant.

The rocks during the ascent were chiefly a very hard but very brittle quartz or schist, alternating with loose crumbly slates, and a little limestone. I diverged a little from the direct road, to visit an iron mine, and to see the process of smelting. The ore was yellow ochre, occurring in a breccia-looking conglomerate situated on the flanks of a steep narrow ravine. There were two smelting furnaces, built of stone, of a conical shape, three feet in height, and about six inches in diameter at the top. The fuel employed was charcoal, and no flux was mixed with the ore.

SINGHI PASS. July, 1848.

On the 3rd of July, I crossed Singhi La, the pass which I had seen so distinctly on the 1st. The ascent commenced at once from the village of Yulchung, over dry rounded hills, at the same time receding considerably from the deep ravine on the right. No rock in situ was visible on the earlier part of the ascent, the hills being entirely covered with coarse gravel and small stones, among which a spinous Astragalus and a species of Polygonum were the predominant plants; a glabrous Artemisia, a little Euphorbia, and the prickly Statice, were also frequent. After about 1000 feet of ascent, plants of the alpine zone began to appear. Afterwards the ascent was more gentle, over similar ground, till I attained an elevation of about 15,000 feet; at which height the road was for some distance nearly level, winding round a deep bay or hollow in the mountains, with high hills rising on the left hand, and the deep ravine still on the right. Several small streams were crossed, and many alpine plants seen, all familiar to me, except a species of rhubarb, which grew among the shingle in considerable quantity, and which is probably an undescribed species.

After completing the circuit of the deep bay, the ascent recommenced, but was not at all rapid, till within a few hundred yards of the top, when a short steep pull occurred. On the latter part of the ascent, from the loose, stony nature of the soil, vegetation was very scanty; and at the top, which was rounded, there was absolutely none. The elevation was 16,500 feet. Several large patches of snow occurred on the south side when close to the top, but not continuously. The view was extensive to the south, embracing a considerable portion of the great snowy range north of the Chenab, which, from the great elevation of the spot on which I stood, as well as of the intermediate ranges, and from the much smaller quantity of snow on its northern face, looked much less imposing than it does when viewed from the Indian side. Right and left were huge rocky peaks, and in front the view was obstructed by mountains close at hand, except to the north-west, in which direction a long gently-sloping valley was visible, running between two steep ridges, along which, I was informed, the next day's journey lay. From the top of the pass I attempted to form an estimate of the height of the neighbouring ranges, taking the quantity of snow as a guide, and it appeared to me that they were in general between 19 and 20,000 feet, a few isolated peaks only exceeding that altitude. Such guesses, however, are necessarily extremely vague.

Quartzy rock, slate, and limestone, alternated during the ascent; and near the summit of the pass the limestone evidently contained organic remains, perhaps coralline, though the traces were not sufficiently distinct to enable me to decide the point. The fossils were not observed in situ, but the angular fragments in which they occurred did not appear to have been transported from any distance.

On the north side of the pass a snow-bed commenced at the very crest, down which the descent was very steep for a few hundred yards. The snow was very soft, and was rapidly melting, but it possibly covered a permanent mass of ice, as it terminated abruptly, and the valley at its base was wide and but little inclined, with only a few patches of snow. The ground near the snow was swampy, owing to the rapid thaw. Here a little sweet-scented Primula was abundant, with one or two more alpine plants. The road followed the course of a wide arid valley, descending very gently. Two species of rhubarb were common, and a dwarf willow fringed the margins of the stream.

PHUTAKSHA. July, 1848.

As I advanced, the valley gradually narrowed, and on the right high precipitous rocks ere long overhung the stream, so that I crossed to the left bank, and, instead of keeping on the bottom of the valley, proceeded horizontally along the hill-sides. A little further on, the stream, which had hitherto had a north-west course, turned suddenly to the north, and entered an extremely narrow rocky ravine, which to all appearance was quite impassable. Here the road turned abruptly to the left, and ascended to cross a low ridge. On attaining the summit an open valley was seen 1000 feet below, which at its lower extremity contracted into a fissure precisely similar to that just described; and as the two ravines were only separated by a narrow rocky ridge, which rose to the north into a high cliff, there can be no doubt that the two streams joined a mile or two below. Descending gradually into the valley, I encamped at the village of Phutaksha, at an elevation of about 14,300 feet.

LACUSTRINE CLAY. July, 1848.

Notwithstanding its great elevation, the valley of Phutaksha was partially cultivated. The fields formed a narrow belt parallel to the stream, along which they extended almost up to 15,000 feet, but the crops were scanty. The wild plants of the borders of the cultivated land were the same as those common in Zanskar, and grew with great luxuriance along the margins of the irrigation streamlets. Alluvial boulder clay was common in the valley; and I saw also a great deal of the fine cream-coloured clay, which I have elsewhere noticed as being probably of lacustrine origin. The occurrence of this clay at an elevation of upwards of 14,000 feet is rather uncommon, and here, as well as elsewhere, appears to be accompanied by such a conformation of the mountains as to render the former existence of a small lake probable. Below Phutaksha, as I have already observed, the ravine of the little stream is exceedingly narrow and rocky, and as likely as any other part of Tibet to have been blocked up by alluvial deposits so as to form a lake.

On the 4th of July my road lay up the valley. The banks of the little stream were lined with most beautiful green turf, producing all the characteristic plants already mentioned. I took the right-hand branch of two which here united, and, on looking up the other, observed that the snow-line on the northern slope of the mountains, at its head, was very considerably above the level at which I stood; its height, where lowest, seemed to be about 16,000 feet. In one small side-ravine there was an incipient glacier. After leaving the cultivated lands the valley became extremely stony and barren, fragments of a brittle limestone rock being everywhere scattered about. The vegetation changing to that of the alpine zone, several new species of Astragalus and Phaca were collected. Following the streamlet almost to its source, the road afterwards ascended to the top of a steep ridge, elevated probably a little more than 16,000 feet; this ridge was rocky, or covered with shingle of a dark slate, which had succeeded to the limestone. The yellow Thermopsis was almost the only plant which grew on the summit, from which I had a fine view of the pass crossed the day before, and of the range of mountains I had left; but to the north there was no distant view, the valley bending abruptly to the right.

HANUPATA. July, 1848.

From the top of the pass I descended rapidly along a deep valley, generally at some height above the stream, to the village of Hanupata, elevated 13,100 feet. This valley was throughout barren and stony, and became very narrow in the lower part. Dama was very plentiful, but otherwise there was little novelty in the vegetation, except along the bank of the stream in its upper part, where I made a rich collection of small alpine species. A large-flowered Aster, a white Pyrethrum, and a little Pedicularis, were the new species obtained. In the lower part of the valley willow and Lonicera as usual appeared; and when close to Hanupata, I met with a shrubby species of Labiatæ (perhaps a Ballota) which is an extremely common plant in the valley of the Indus from 7000 to 14,000 feet, but seems never to occur far from that river.

WANDLA RAVINE. July, 1848.

On the 5th of July I proceeded down the same valley to Wandla, a distance of about eleven miles. The fields of Hanupata occupied only a narrow strip along the bank of the stream, the sides of the valley being steep and rocky. The crops were much further advanced than any I had hitherto seen; the barley in particular was very luxuriant, and one field was already in ear. Along the margins of the field there was the same rank herbage as usually occurs in similar situations. Lucerne and melilot, both seemingly the common European species, were very plentiful. Poplars and willows were cultivated; and I observed some large juniper-trees. Beyond the cultivation the valley became very narrow. The bed and banks of the stream were gravelly, and on the latter grew a dense thicket of Myricaria, Hippophaë, willow, and rose. After two or three miles there was not left space even for these, the mountains coming so close together that in many places there was not room to pass between them and the water. The current was too rapid for fording, so that it repeatedly became necessary to ascend to a considerable height in order to effect a passage. One of these ascents was not much less than 1000 feet perpendicular, up a narrow lateral ravine, and then over a very steep bank of loose shingle, descending again with great abruptness to the water's edge. The road also crossed the stream several times.

In one place I observed a very remarkable natural tunnel, where the stream flowed below a solid mass of conglomerate rock, which formed an arch obliquely across it. The conglomerate was exceedingly hard, and rested on both sides on very soft friable slate, by the excavation of which, by the action of the stream, the tunnel appeared to have been formed. The original channel of the stream was still visible six or eight feet higher than its present level a little to the right. The ravine continued narrow and rocky for nearly seven miles, but during the last two of these the road lay high upon the mountain-side, and was tolerably level and good. Near the end the valley became wider, and several small patches of cultivation appeared, with a few apricot-trees; and a double yellow rose was planted near some of the houses. The last mile of the day's journey was entirely through very rich and luxuriant cultivation, which was further advanced than any I had yet seen.

WANDLA. July, 1848.

The elevation of Wandla is only 11,000 feet, and the heat of the sun was very oppressive. On the latter part of the march, many plants of the Indus valley which were familiar to me from my journey of the year before, but which I had not seen during my present visit to Tibet, made their appearance. Echinops and Nepeta floccosa, Mulgedium Tataricum, a large and handsome yellow Corydalis, Capparis, and numerous Chenopodiaceæ were abundant. The leaves of Tussilago Farfara were common along the water-courses; in the corn-fields a little viscid Cerastium (Lepyrodiclis) was only too plentiful. By far the most conspicuous plant was the rose (R. Webbiana), which, in the rich and well-watered soil of the cultivated plain, grew most luxuriantly, forming dense almost spherical bushes, many of which were at least fifteen feet high, as much in diameter, and bushy down to the ground. They were now in full bloom, and the foliage was almost entirely concealed by the profusion of bright red flowers.

I was obliged to remain a day at Wandla, owing to the serious illness of one of my servants, who, though a native of a mountainous country, had suffered much more on the high passes than any of the inhabitants of the plains of India, and was now so much exhausted as to be unable to move. On the 7th, however, I proceeded towards the Indus, not a little glad to be at last within a day's journey of that river, as I was considerably later than I had originally calculated, not having made allowance for the very rugged nature of the country between Zanskar and Le.

LAMAYURU. July, 1848.

The valley of Wandla, I was informed, contracted again into a rocky ravine a very little way below the village. This ravine was not quite impracticable, but the stream had to be forded very frequently; and as it was at least four feet deep, I was recommended to follow another route, a little more circuitous, but free of difficulty. For the first mile I proceeded up an open valley, which joined at a right angle from the west that which I had descended on the 5th. I then turned to the right up a very sterile ravine, with much saline efflorescence; in a few places a small streamlet trickled among the stones, but for the first part the channel was quite dry, the water filtering underneath the gravel. The sides of the ravine were bare and shingly and without vegetation, except at the entrance, where a Corydalis, thistle, and one or two other plants occurred sparingly. On the most stony parts Güldenstädtia cuneata, Benth., was common, and here and there in the gravelly channel was a bush of Myricaria (not M. elegans, but a smaller and much less handsome species). After a gentle ascent of about two miles, I gained the head of the ravine, and crossing a stony ridge not high enough for alpine plants, descended another valley on its north side, which, though at first if possible more barren than the ascent, soon became somewhat green with willow-bushes and the ordinary plants. After descending perhaps a thousand feet, I reached an extensive tract of cultivation, just above which, in another ravine, lay the village and monastery of Lamayuru, of which a circumstantial account has been given by Moorcroft[20]. At this place, I joined the road from Kashmir by Dras to Ladak, which has been repeatedly traversed by European travellers, and is particularly described in Moorcroft's Travels.

INDUS VALLEY. July, 1848.

KALATZE. July, 1848.

Below this village the valley contracted, and was for some distance full of immense masses of lacustrine clay; lower down it became a narrow rocky ravine. The road descended with great rapidity till I reached the Wandla stream, which I had left in the morning; it was afterwards less steep, following the banks of that river through a winding rocky valley to its junction with the Indus, which was not seen till close at hand. The valley of the Indus, where I entered it, was very barren, with bare rugged mountains on both sides. A stony platform of alluvial conglomerate usually intervened between the mountains and the river, over which my road lay for about three miles up the river, to a good wooden bridge, defended on the north side by a small, very indifferent fort. By this bridge I crossed to the right side of the river, and a mile further on reached the village of Kalatze (or Kalsi, as it is commonly pronounced), at which I encamped.

In the lower part of the Wandla ravine, the clay-slate rock became much indurated, and alternated with a very hard conglomerate, the matrix of which had a semi-fused appearance, while the pebbles which it contained were all rounded. This rock is very similar to, and probably identical with, that of the Giah ravine north of the Tunglung pass, and of the upper Indus. A modern conglomerate, with an indurated sandy and calcareous matrix, in horizontal beds, rested unconformably upon the more ancient rock, but afforded no indications by which I could form an opinion of its exact age.

VEGETATION OF VALLEY OF INDUS. July, 1848.

The elevation of my tent at Kalatze I made to be 10,400 feet; but I was encamped at the highest part of the village, and the bed of the river was not much above 10,000 feet. The cultivated lands, which are very extensive, lie on the top of a thick platform of alluvium, through which the river has excavated a deep broad channel. The lands of the village slope gradually from the base of the mountain to the edge of the cliff overhanging the river, and the fields are made into level terraces by walls of stones from three to six feet in height. Numerous streams of water are conducted through the fields for irrigation, upon which cultivation in Tibet entirely depends. The crops had an appearance of great luxuriance: they consisted of wheat and barley (both in full ear, the latter even beginning to turn yellow), buckwheat, peas, and oil-seed (Brassica Napus). Fruit-trees were abundant, chiefly apricots; but there was no deficiency of apples, pears, walnuts, and mulberries. Along the water-courses and on the edges of the fields grew plenty of wild plants, many the same as occur everywhere in Tibet, but, from the diminished elevation, numerous novelties were observed. A Clematis, with dingy brownish-orange flowers, straggled over bushes; a shrubby Ballota and a Perowskia covered the walls; Iris, Capsella, Veronica biloba and agrestis, Lamium amplexicaule, Mentha, Potentillæ, Plantago Asiatica, Thalictrum, and numerous other plants grew along the water-courses; while in the fields among the corn the weeds were much the same as are common in Europe and in the plains of India in the cold season; Vaccaria, Silene conoidea, Stellaria media, Malva rotundifolia, and Convolvulus arvensis being plentiful.

NURLA. July, 1848.

On the 8th of July, I marched to Nurla[21], about eight miles up the valley of the Indus. After leaving Kalatze, the whole day's journey was quite barren, the road usually lying on the top of an alluvial platform. Just beyond Kalatze, a large stream had cut a deep ravine through the platform, showing it to be composed of large incoherent water-worn stones, mixed with gravel and clay. The mountains on both sides were steep, rocky, and bare. The vegetation on these platforms was scanty: Boragineæ and Chenopodiaceæ were the two prominent orders; Nepeta floccosa, a little Hyoscyamus, Güldenstädtia, a large and handsome Corydalis, a Matthiola, and several Astragali, Cruciferæ, and Artemisiæ, were also prevalent. Of grasses, Stipa was the most common, but several sub-tropical forms were observed, which were interesting and somewhat unexpected. A species of Cymbopogon, and an Andropogon allied to A. Ischæmum, grew among rocks close to the river. In similar places I met with two species of Vincetoxicum, one a twiner, and the other erect; Tribulus, too, was common on the most barren spots. At Nurla, the cultivated lands are very extensive: the crops and fruit-trees as at Kalatze; some of the barley was nearly ripe. The common bean seemed a good deal cultivated, usually intermixed with wheat; Lathyrus sativus was also a common crop[22].

Behind the village of Kalatze, rounded hills of moderate elevation were capped with incoherent beds of sand and boulders of considerable thickness, horizontally stratified; similar beds, sometimes indurated into a soft sandstone rock, occurred at intervals throughout the day. Boulders of granite were abundant in the alluvium and on the surface of the platforms, derived, I believe, from the axis of the chain separating the Indus from the Shayuk. These transported masses of granite were not observed anywhere between lower Zanskar and the Indus; it may therefore, I think, be inferred that the superficial alluvium (which, where the two occur together, generally covers the lacustrine clays) has been deposited since the present river system was in full operation, and is not, as I at one time conjectured, analogous to the drifts of Europe. The ancient rocks between Kalatze and Nurla were alternations of friable slate with indurated conglomerate and grey sandstone.

SASPOLA. July, 1848.

Between Nurla and Saspola, to which place (eleven miles) I marched on the 9th, the valley of the Indus was narrower than before, as well as more rocky. The rock was chiefly grey sandstone. The road frequently ascended to some height in places where the banks of the river were too rugged to permit a passage. On the 10th of June I proceeded to Nimo, ten miles further. At Saspola the road leaves the banks of the Indus, to ascend a barren valley, among hills of loose conglomerate. At first, the banks of the little stream were green and turfy; but after about a mile I entered a dry stony ravine, along the bed of which the road gradually ascended. The rocks were clay-slate, conglomerate, and sandstone, and all the hills were capped with modern alluvial clay conglomerate. Granite boulders occurred abundantly, and marks of the action of water were seen on the rocks far above the reach of the present streams. At the summit, which must have been nearly 1000 feet above the Indus, I emerged suddenly upon a wide and open gravelly plain. To the right, a number of low hills concealed the course of the Indus; to the left, the mountain range had receded to some distance, and could be seen to be here and there tipped with snow. The road lay for several miles over this barren plain, which was entirely alluvial, descending afterwards very abruptly into a deep flat-bottomed hollow, excavated out of the soft conglomerate by a considerable stream. In this hollow, quite concealed till close at hand, was the village of Bazgo, with a long narrow strip of cultivation along the margin of its stream. Following the course of this valley till near the Indus, I then ascended its left bank, and emerged upon another extensive alluvial platform, high above the river, but parallel to it. At the east end of this platform was the village of Nimo, the termination of my day's journey.

NIMO. July, 1848.

From this place my journey of the 12th brought me to Le, about twelve miles. About a mile above Nimo the Indus is joined by the Zanskar river. The valley where the two rivers unite is very rocky and precipitous, and bends a long way to the south. The road to Le does not follow the river, but ascends among gravelly ravines behind the village, and emerges on a wide open plain, which, as on the previous march, is interposed between the northern range of mountains and the present channel of the Indus. The height of this plain above the river was at least 1000 feet; it was lowest in the centre, sloping up not only towards the mountains to the north, but to a range of round-topped hills of moderate elevation, which overhung the valley of the Indus, sinking on their south face very abruptly down to the river. The higher mountains were chiefly granite, with a few interposed beds of slate dipping at a high angle. The granite exhibited the usual tendency of that rock to decay in spheres, or rather in irregular-shaped masses with rounded angles.

In proceeding along this plain, the road at first rose almost imperceptibly, but after two miles I reached the highest part of it, from which it sloped down towards the east. From this point the course of the Indus in front of Le, and to the south-east for many miles, was finely seen. The river runs through a wide valley, but the range of mountains to the north sends down many rugged spurs, which, in the shape of low rocky hills, advance close to the river. On the south or left bank, on the contrary, a wide, open, gently-sloping plain extends to a considerable distance. From the highest level of the plain a long gradual descent brought me to the Indus, to which it was necessary to descend in order to get round one of the spurs just referred to. It is here a tranquil but somewhat rapid stream, divided into several branches by gravelly islands, generally swampy, and covered with low Hippophaë scrub. The size of the river was very much less than it had been below the junction of the river of Zanskar, the latter appearing to contribute considerably more than half the amount of water. At the point of the low spur lay the village of Pitak, on an isolated hill, surrounded by extensive deposits of cream-coloured lacustrine clay. From this village there is a gradual ascent of about four miles to the town of Le, which is built on a low hill at the upper corner of a wide open valley.

PITAK. July, 1848.

The bed of the Indus at Pitak, below Le, has an elevation of about 10,500 feet above the level of the sea, but the town is at least 1300 feet higher. Its sheltered situation, in a hollow surrounded by hills, and facing the south, compensates to a certain extent for this increase of elevation; still the crops are very much inferior to those on the banks of the Indus. There are but few trees, the apricot being the only fruit-tree cultivated, and it does not seem to thrive. Water is plentiful in the valley, and is conveyed through the cultivated lands in deeply-cut canals or trenches, faced with walls of stone. Natural meadows of tall grasses, intermixed with luxuriant lucerne and melilot, are common along the banks of the river, especially above the town.

LE. July, 1848.

The vegetation in the vicinity of Le scarcely differed from that of the Indus at Kalatze. The most abundant families of plants were Chenopodiaceæ, Labiatæ, and Artemisiæ, which covered the barren and stony tracts; the Boragineæ, so abundant throughout Tibet in early spring, had already quite dried up and disappeared. In the meadows tall species of Thalictrum, Silene, and Heracleum, were coming into flower, and in swamps Veronica Beccabunga and Anagallis, Limosella, and a yellow Pedicularis, were the most abundant plants.

At Le I had the pleasure of meeting Captain Strachey, who had spent the winter there, and had returned shortly before my arrival, from an exploring journey to the eastward. After a week's stay I set out for Nubra on the 19th of July, crossing the lofty chain separating the two rivers by the pass directly north of Le, which, during the summer months, presents no difficulty, and is therefore preferred as being the most direct. The pass is distinctly visible from the town of Le, to which it appears very close, though the distance is at least ten or twelve miles. I did not attempt to cross it the first day, but encamped as far up on the southern face as I conveniently could, so as to reach the top early in the morning. At starting, the road lay for about three miles through an open valley, partly cultivated, and with a good deal of swampy ground. Higher up, the valley contracted into a barren ravine, with a narrow strip of green along the margin of the stream. About half-way, the road left the bottom of the valley, and for the remainder of the march I proceeded along the bare side of the mountain, ascending very rapidly. There was a striking change in the vegetation as the height increased. On the lower slopes Cicer and Statice were abundant, with several Astragali; on the latter part of the ascent many alpine plants were observed, belonging to the genera Corydalis, Elsholtzia, Potentilla, and Draba. A very small violet was extremely plentiful in the crevices of the rocks, and among stones, after I had reached 15,000 feet. I encamped at about 15,700 feet, on a level piece of ground, a few hundred feet above the bottom of the valley.

PASS NORTH OF LE. July, 1848.

On the 20th I crossed the pass, starting about sunrise. The morning was intensely frosty, and the stones and vegetation near the water were encrusted with ice. The path lay close to the stream, ascending somewhat rapidly among the green turf which grew along its margin, in which I found many little alpine plants, among which, a large-flowered Aster and a small poppy with still unexpanded flowers were the most conspicuous. The last part of the ascent was extremely steep, among immense angular granite boulders, with here and there a little snow in the crevices. Here a most elegant sweet-scented species of Primula was common, so firmly fixed in the frozen mud, that I could with difficulty procure a specimen. Except in very small patches, there was no snow till within two hundred yards of the top of the ascent, for which distance it was continuous, but very soft, and evidently melting rapidly. The crest of the pass was a narrow ridge of large spheres of granite, seemingly quite detached from one another, but which had probably been formed on the spot they now occupied by the peculiar decay characteristic of that rock.

The continuation of the ridge on both sides was for some distance very little more elevated than the pass itself, the height of which was 17,700 feet. To the south, the view was very extensive, embracing a great extent of snowy mountains, with numerous lofty peaks, as well as a part of the Indus valley, and the town of Le, immediately below; to the north it was much more limited, as hills close at hand completely excluded all distant view, except directly in front, where one snowy peak could be seen a long way off, evidently beyond the Shayuk.

On the north side of the pass snow commenced at the very top, and continued for at least 1200 feet of perpendicular height. The descent for this distance was extremely steep, over a snow-bed, which appeared to cover an incipient glacier. About 1200 feet below the top I came to a small oval-shaped lake, completely frozen over; a little higher up I had passed a small bare piece of rock projecting through the snow, and perhaps thirty feet long, on which the beautiful blue-flowered Nepeta multibracteata, Benth., had already put forth its flowers. Beyond the frozen lake the descent became at once much more gentle, and was partially free of snow. The path lay over a vast accumulation of angular stones, which appeared to have fallen from the rocks above. Many parts of the valley were swampy, evidently from recently melted snow, and in such places the Primula, noticed on the ascent, occurred in great abundance, its scapes rising to the height of six to eight inches, and bearing large globes of deep rose-coloured flowers. Among the loose stones Nepeta multibracteata was common. About three miles from the top I passed the end of an exceedingly well-marked moraine, which must have been deposited by a glacier at a time when, from increased cold, these masses of ice stretched down much further than they do at present. The remainder of the descent was again more abrupt, but very bare, stony, and uninteresting. A single tree of Juniperus excelsa grew in one of the ravines, and below 14,000 feet a species of berberry, with very small leaves, was common on dry stony ground. I encamped at the small village of Kardong, at 13,500 feet. The cultivation round this village was on a level plain without any terracing.