Books: Himalayan Journals (Complete)

J >> J. D. Hooker >> Himalayan Journals (Complete)

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30 | 31 | 32 | 33 | 34 | 35 | 36 | 37 | 38 | 39 | 40 | 41 | 42 | 43 | 44 | 45 | 46 | 47 | 48 | 49 | 50 | 51 | 52 | 53 | 54 | 55 | 56 | 57 | 58 | 59 | 60 | 61 | 62 | 63 | 64 | 65 | 66 | 67 | 68 | 69 | 70 | 71

Few excursions can afford a better idea of the general features and
rich luxuriance of the Sikkim Himalaya than that to Tonglo. It is
always interesting to roam with an aboriginal, and especially a
mountain people, through their thinly inhabited valleys, over their
grand mountains, and to dwell alone with them in their gloomy and
forbidding forests, and no thinking man can do so without learning
much, however slender be the means at his command for communion.
A more interesting and attractive companion than the Lepcha I never
lived with: cheerful, kind, and patient with a master to whom he is
attached; rude but not savage, ignorant and yet intelligent; with the
simple resource of a plain knife he makes his house and furnishes
yours, with a speed, alacrity, and ingenuity that wile away that
well-known long hour when the weary pilgrim frets for his couch.
In all my dealings with these people, they proved scrupulously
honest. Except for drunkenness and carelessness, I never had to
complain of any of the merry troop; some of whom, bareheaded and
barelegged, possessing little or nothing save a cotton garment and a
long knife, followed me for many months on subsequent occasions, from
the scorching plains to the everlasting snows. Ever foremost in the
forest or on the bleak mountain, and ever ready to help, to carry, to
encamp, collect, or cook, they cheer on the traveller by their
unostentatious zeal in his service, and are spurs to his progress.

Illustration--TIBETAN AMULET.

CHAPTER VIII.

Difficulty in procuring leave to enter Sikkim -- Obtain permission to
travel in East Nepal -- Arrangements -- Coolies -- Stores -- Servants
-- Personal equipment -- Mode of travelling -- Leave Dorjiling --
Goong ridge -- Behaviour of Bhotan coolies -- Nepal frontier -- Myong
valley -- Ilam -- Sikkim massacre -- Cultivation -- Nettles -- Camp
at Nanki on Tonglo -- Bhotan coolies run away -- View of Chumulari --
Nepal peaks to west -- Sakkiazung -- Buceros -- Road to Wallanchoon
-- Oaks -- Scarcity of water -- Singular view of mountain-valleys --
Encampment -- My tent and its furniture -- Evening occupations --
Dunkotah -- Crossridge of Sakkiazung -- Yews -- Silver-firs -- View
of Tambur valley -- Pemmi river -- Pebbly terraces -- Geology -- Holy
springs -- Enormous trees -- Luculia gratissima -- Khawa river, rocks
of -- Arrive at Tambur -- Shingle and gravel terraces -- Natives,
indolence of -- Canoe ferry -- Votive offerings -- Bad road --
Temperature, etc. -- Chingtam village, view from -- Mywa river and
Guola -- House -- Boulders -- Chain-bridge -- Meepo, arrival of --
Fevers. Owing to the unsatisfactory nature of our relations with
the Sikkim authorities, to which I have elsewhere alluded, my
endeavours to procure leave to penetrate further beyond the Dorjiling
territory than Tonglo, were attended with some trouble and delay.

In the autumn of 1848, the Governor-General communicated with the
Rajah, desiring him to grant me honourable and safe escort through
his dominions; but this was at once met by a decided refusal,
apparently admitting of no compromise. Pending further negotiations,
which Dr. Campbell felt sure would terminate satisfactorily, though
perhaps too late for my purpose, he applied to the Nepal Rajah for
permission for me to visit the Tibetan passes, west of Kinchinjunga;
proposing in the meanwhile to arrange for my return through Sikkim.
Through the kindness of Col. Thoresby, the Resident at that Court,
and the influence of Jung Bahadoor, this request was promptly acceded
to, and a guard of six Nepalese soldiers and two officers was sent to
Dorjiling to conduct me to any part of the eastern districts of Nepal
which I might select. I decided upon following up the Tambur, a
branch of the Arun river, and exploring the two easternmost of the
Nepalese passes into Tibet (Wallanchoon and Kanglachem), which would
bring me as near to the central mass and loftiest part of the eastern
flank of Kinchinjunga as possible.

For this expedition (which occupied three months), all the
arrangements were undertaken for me by Dr. Campbell, who afforded me
every facility which in his government position he could command,
besides personally superintending the equipment and provisioning of
my party. Taking horses or loaded animals of any kind was not
expedient: the whole journey was to be performed on foot, and
everything carried on men's backs. As we were to march through wholly
unexplored countries, where food was only procurable at uncertain
intervals, it was necessary to engage a large body of porters, some
of whom should carry bags of rice for the coolies and themselves too.
The difficulty of selecting these carriers, of whom thirty were
required, was very great. The Lepchas, the best and most tractable,
and over whom Dr. Campbell had the most direct influence, disliked
employment out of Sikkim, especially in so warlike a country as
Nepal: and they were besides thought unfit for the snowy regions.
The Nepalese, of whom there were many residing as British subjects in
Dorjiling, were mostly run-aways from their own country, and afraid
of being claimed, should they return to it, by the lords of the soil.
To employ Limboos, Moormis, Hindoos, or other natives of low
elevations, was out of the question; and no course appeared advisable
but to engage some of the Bhotan run-aways domiciled in Dorjiling,
who are accustomed to travel at all elevations, and fear nothing but
a return to the country which they have abandoned as slaves, or as
culprits: they are immensely powerful, and though intractable to the
last degree, are generally glad to work and behave well for money.
The choice, as will hereafter be seen, was unfortunate, though at the
time unanimously approved.

My party mustered fifty-six persons. These consisted of myself, and
one personal servant, a Portuguese half-caste, who undertook all
offices, and spared me the usual train of Hindoo and Mahometan
servants. My tent and equipments (for which I was greatly indebted to
Mr. Hodgson), instruments, bed, box of clothes, books and papers,
required a man for each. Seven more carried my papers for drying
plants, and other scientific stores. The Nepalese guard had two
coolies of their own. My interpreter, the coolie Sirdar (or headman),
and my chief plant collector (a Lepcha), had a man each.
Mr. Hodgson's bird and animal shooter, collector, and stuffer, with
their ammunition and indispensables, had four more; there were
besides, three Lepcha lads to climb trees and change the
plant-papers, who had long been in my service in that capacity; and
the party was completed by fourteen Bhotan coolies laden with food,
consisting chiefly of rice with ghee, oil, capsicums, salt,
and flour.

I carried myself a small barometer, a large knife and digger for
plants, note-book, telescope, compass, and other instruments; whilst
two or three Lepcha lads who accompanied me as satellites, carried a
botanising box, thermometers, sextant and artificial horizon,
measuring-tape, azimuth compass and stand, geological hammer, bottles
and boxes for insects, sketch-book, etc., arranged in compartments of
strong canvass bags. The Nepal officer (of the rank of serjeant, I
believe) always kept near me with one of his men, rendering
innumerable little services. Other sepoys were distributed amongst
the remainder of the party; one went ahead to prepare camping-ground,
and one brought up the rear.

The course generally pursued by Himalayan travellers is to march
early in the morning, and arrive at the camping-ground before or by
noon, breakfasting before starting, or _en route._ I never followed
this plan, because it sacrificed the mornings, which were otherwise
profitably spent in collecting about camp; whereas, if I set off
early, I was generally too tired with the day's march to employ in
any active pursuit the rest of the daylight, which in November only
lasted till 6 p.m. The men breakfasted early in the morning, I
somewhat later, and all had started by 10 a.m., arriving between
4 and 6 p.m. at the next camping-ground. My tent was formed of
blankets, spread over cross pieces of wood and a ridge-pole,
enclosing an area of 6 to 8 feet by 4 to 6 feet. The bedstead, table,
and chair were always made by my Lepchas, as described in the Tonglo
excursion. The evenings I employed in writing up notes and journals,
plotting maps, and ticketing the plants collected during the
day's march.

I left Dorjiling at noon, on the 27th October, accompanied by Dr.
Campbell, who saw me fairly off, the coolies having preceded me.
Our direct route would have been over Tonglo, but the threats of the
Sikkim authorities rendered it advisable to make for Nepal at once;
we therefore kept west along the Goong ridge, a western prolongation
of Sinchul.

On overtaking the coolies, I proceeded for six or seven miles along a
zig-zag road, at about 7,500 feet elevation, through dense forests,
and halted at a little hut within sight of Dorjiling. Rain and mist
came on at nightfall, and though several parties of my servants
arrived, none of the Bhotan coolies made their appearance, and I
spent the night without food or bed, the weather being much too foggy
and dark to send back to meet the missing men. They joined me late on
the following day, complaining unreasonably of their loads, and
without their Sirdar, who, after starting his crew, had returned to
take leave of his wife and family. On the following day he appeared,
and after due admonishment we started, but four miles further on were
again obliged to halt for the Bhotan coolies, who were equally deaf
to threats and entreaties. As they did not come up till dusk, we were
obliged to encamp here, (alt. 7,400 feet) at the common source of the
Balasun, which flows to the plains, and the Little Rungeet, whose
course is north.

The contrast between the conduct of the Bhotan men and that of the
Lepchas and Nepalese was so marked, that I seriously debated in my
own mind the propriety of sending the former back to Dorjiling, but
yielded to the remonstrances of their Sirdar and the Nepal guard, who
represented the great difficulty we should have in replacing them,
and above all, the loss of time, at this season a matter of great
importance. We accordingly started again the following morning, and
still keeping in a western direction, crossed the posts in the forest
dividing Sikkim from Nepal, and descended into the Myong valley of
the latter country, through which flows the river of that name, a
tributary of the Tambur. The Myong valley is remarkably fine: it runs
south-west from Tonglo, and its open character and general fertility
contrast strongly with the bareness of the lower mountain spurs which
flank it, and with the dense, gloomy, steep, and forest-clad gorges
of Sikkim. At its lower end, about twenty miles from the frontier, is
the military fort of Ilam, a celebrated stockaded post and cantonment
of the Ghorkas: its position is marked by a conspicuous conical hill.
The inhabitants are chiefly Brahmins, but there are also some
Moormis, and a few Lepchas who escaped from Sikkim during the general
massacre in 1825. Among these is a man who had formerly much
influence in Sikkim; he still retains his title of Kazee,* [This
Mahometan title, by which the officers of state are known in Sikkim,
is there generally pronounced Kajee.] and has had large lands
assigned to him by the Nepalese Government: he sent the usual present
of a kid, fowls, and eggs, and begged me to express to Dr. Campbell
his desire to return to his native country, and settle at Dorjiling.

The scenery of this valley is the most beautiful I know of in the
lower Himalaya, and the Cheer Pine (_P. longifolia_) is abundant,
cresting the hills; which are loosely clothed with clumps of oaks and
other trees, bamboos, and bracken (_Pteris_). The slopes are covered
with red clay, and separate little ravines luxuriantly clothed with
tropical vegetation, amongst which flow pebbly streams of transparent
cool water. The villages, which are merely scattered collections of
huts, are surrounded with fields of rice, buckwheat, and Indian corn,
which latter the natives were now storing in little granaries,
mounted on four posts, men, women, and children being all equally
busy. The quantity of gigantic nettles (_Urtica heterophylla_) on the
skirts of these maize fields is quite wonderful: their long white
stings look most formidable, but though they sting virulently, the
pain only lasts half an hour or so. These, however, with leeches,
mosquitos, peepsas, and ticks, sometimes keep the traveller in a
constant state of irritation.

However civilised the Hindoo may be in comparison with the Lepcha, he
presents a far less attractive picture to the casual observer; he
comes to your camping-ground, sits down, and stares with all his
might, but offers no assistance; if he bring a present at all, he
expects a return on the spot, and goes on begging till satisfied.
I was amused by the cool way in which my Ghorka guard treated the
village lads, when they wanted help in my service, taking them by the
shoulder, pulling out their knives for them, placing them in their
bands, and setting them to cut down a tree, or to chop firewood,
which they seldom refused to do, when a little such douce violence
was applied.

My object being to reach the Tambur, north of the great east and west
mountain ridge of Sakkiazung, without crossing the innumerable
feeders of the Myong and their dividing spurs, we ascended the north
flank of the valley to a long spur from Tonglo, intending to follow
winding ridges of that mountain to the sources of the Pemmi at the
Phulloot mountains, and thence descend.

On the 3rd November I encamped on the flank of Tonglo (called Nanki
in Nepal), at 9,300 feet, about 700 feet below the western summit,
which is rocky, and connected by a long flat ridge with that which I
had visited in the previous May. The Bhotan coolies behaved worse
than ever; their conduct being in all respects typical of the
turbulent, mulish race to which they belong. They had been plundering
my provisions as they went along, and neither their Sirdar nor the
Ghorka soldiers had the smallest authority over them. I had hired
some Ghorka coolies to assist and eventually to replace them, and had
made up my mind to send back the worst from the more populous banks
of the Tambur, when I was relieved by their making off of their own
accord. The dilemma was however awkward, as it was impossible to
procure men on the top of a mountain 10,000 feet high, or to proceed
towards Phulloot. No course remained but to send to Dorjiling for
others, or to return to the Myong valley, and take a more circuitous
route over the west end of Sakkiazung, which led through villages
from which I could procure coolies day by day. I preferred the latter
plan, and sent one of the soldiers to the nearest village for
assistance to bring the loads down, halting a day for that purpose.

From the summit of Tonglo I enjoyed the view I had so long desired of
the Snowy Himalaya, from north-east to north-west; Sikkim being on
the right, Nepal on the left, and the plains of India to the
southward; and I procured a set of compass bearings, of the greatest
use in mapping the country. In the early morning the transparency of
the atmosphere renders this view one of astonishing grandeur.
Kinchinjunga bore nearly due north, a dazzling mass of snowy peaks,
intersected by blue glaciers, which gleamed in the slanting rays of
the rising sun, like aquamarines set in frosted silver. From this the
sweep of snowed mountains to the eastward was almost continuous as
far as Chola (bearing east-north-east), following a curve of 150
miles, and enclosing the whole of the northern part of Sikkim, which
appeared a billowy mass of forest-clad mountains. On the north-east
horizon rose the Donkia mountain (23,176 feet), and Chumulari
(23,929). Though both were much more distant than the snowy ranges,
being respectively eighty and ninety miles off, they raised their
gigantic heads above, seeming what they really were, by far the
loftiest peaks next to Kinchinjunga; and the perspective of snow is
so deceptive, that though 40 to 60 miles beyond, they appeared as
though almost in the same line with the ridges they overtopped.
Of these mountains, Chumulari presents many attractions to the
geographer, from its long disputed position, its sacred character,
and the interest attached to it since Turner's mission to Tibet in
1783. It was seen and recognised by Dr. Campbell, and measured by
Colonel Waugh, from Sinchul, and also from Tonglo, and was a
conspicuous object in my subsequent journey to Tibet. Beyond Junnoo,
one of the western peaks of Kinchinjunga, there was no continuous
snowy chain; the Himalaya seemed suddenly to decline into black and
rugged peaks, till in the far north-west it rose again in a white
mountain mass of stupendous elevation at 80 miles distance, called,
by my Nepal people, "Tsungau."* [This is probably the easternmost and
loftiest peak seen from Katmandoo, distant 78 miles, and estimated
elevation 20,117 feet by Col. Crawford's observations. See
"Hamilton's Nepal," p. 346, and plate 1.] From the bearings I took of
it from several positions, it is in about lat. 27 degrees 49 minutes
and long. 86 degrees 24 minutes, and is probably on the west flank of
the Arun valley and river, which latter, in its course from Tibet to
the plains of India, receives the waters from the west flank of
Kinchinjunga, and from the east flank of the mountain in question.
It is perhaps one which has been seen and measured from the Tirhoot
district by some of Colonel Waugh's party, and which has been
reported to be upwards of 28,000 feet in elevation; and it is the
only mountain of the first class in magnitude between Gosainthan
(north-east of Katmandoo) and Kinchinjunga.

To the west, the black ridge of Sakkiazung, bristling with pines,
(_Abies Webbiana_) cut off the view of Nepal; but south-west, the
Myong valley could be traced to its junction with the Tambur about
thirty miles off: beyond which to the south-west and south, low
hills belonging to the outer ranges of Nepal rose on the distant
horizon, seventy or eighty miles off; and of these the most
conspicuous were the Mahavarati which skirt the Nepal Terai. South
and south-east, Sinchul and the Goong range of Sikkim intercepted the
view of the plains of India, of which I had a distant peep to the
south-west only.

The west top of Tonglo is very open and grassy, with occasional
masses of gneiss of enormous size, but probably not in situ.
The whole of this flank, and for 1000 feet down the spur to the
south-west, had been cleared by fire for pasturage, and flocks of
black-faced sheep were grazing. During my stay on the mountain,
except in the early morning, the weather was bleak, gloomy, and very
cold, with a high south-west wind. The mean temperature was 41
degrees, extremes 53.2/26 degrees: the nights were very clear, with
sharp hoar-frost; the radiating thermometer sank to 21 degrees, the
temperature at 3.5 feet depth was 51.5 degrees.

A few of the Bhotan coolies having voluntarily returned, I left
Tonglo on the 5th, and descended its west flank to the Mai, a feeder
of the Myong. The descent was as abrupt as that on the east face, but
through less dense forest; the Sikkim side (that facing the east)
being much the dampest. I encamped at dark by a small village,
(Jummanoo) at 4,360 feet, having descended 5000 feet in five hours.
Hence we marched eastward to the village of Sakkiazung, which we
reached on the third day, crossing _en route_ several spurs 4000 to
6000 feet high, from the same ridge, and as many rivers, which all
fall into the Myong, and whose beds are elevated from 2,500 to
3000 feet.

Though rich and fertile, the country is scantily populated, and
coolies were procured with difficulty: I therefore sent back to
Dorjiling all but absolute indispensables, and on the 9th of November
started up the ridge in a northerly direction, taking the road from
Ilam to Wallanchoon. The ascent was gradual, through a fine forest,
full of horn-bills (_Buceros_), a bird resembling the Toucan
("Dhunass" Lepcha); at 7000 feet an oak (_Quercus semecarpifolia_),
"Khasrou" of the Nepalese, commences, a tree which is common as far
west as Kashmir, but which I never found in Sikkim, though it appears
again in Bhotan.* [This oak ascends in the N.W. Himalaya to the
highest limit of forest (12,000 feet). No oak in Sikkim attains a
greater elevation than 10,000.] It forms a broad-headed tree, and has
a very handsome appearance; its favourite locality is on grassy open
shoulders of the mountains. It was accompanied by an _Astragalus,
Geranium,_ and several other plants of the drier interior parts of
Sikkim. Water is very scarce along the ridge; we walked fully eight
miles without finding any, and were at length obliged to encamp at
8,350 feet by the only spring that we should be able to reach.
With respect to drought, this ridge differs materially from Sikkim,
where water abounds at all elevations; and the cause is obviously its
position to the westward of the great ridge of Singalelah (including
Tonglo) by which the S.W. currents are drained of their moisture.
Here again, the east flank was much the dampest and most
luxuriantly wooded.

While my men encamped on a very narrow ridge, I ascended a rocky
summit, composed of great blocks of gneiss, from which I obtained a
superb view to the westward. Immediately below a fearfully sudden
descent, ran the Daomy River, bounded on the opposite side by another
parallel ridge of Sakkiazung, enclosing, with that on which I stood,
a gulf from 6000 to 7000 feet deep, of wooded ridges, which, as it
were, radiated outwards as they ascended upwards in rocky spurs to
the pine-clad peaks around. To the south-west, in the extreme
distance, were the boundless plains of India, upwards of 100 miles
off, with the Cosi meandering through them like a silver thread.

The firmament appeared of a pale steel blue, and a broad low arch
spanned the horizon, bounded by a line of little fleecy clouds
(moutons); below this the sky was of a golden yellow, while in
successively deeper strata, many belts or ribbons of vapour appeared
to press upon the plains, the lowest of which was of a dark leaden
hue, the upper more purple, and vanishing into the pale yellow above.
Though well defined, there was no abrupt division between the belts,
and the lowest mingled imperceptibly with the hazy horizon.
Gradually the golden lines grew dim, and the blues and purples gained
depth of colour; till the sun set behind the dark-blue peaked
mountains in a flood of crimson and purple, sending broad beams of
grey shade and purple light up to the zenith, and all around.
As evening advanced, a sudden chill succeeded, and mists rapidly
formed immediately below me in little isolated clouds, which
coalesced and spread out like a heaving and rolling sea, leaving
nothing above their surface but the ridges and spurs of the adjacent
mountains. These rose like capes, promontories, and islands, of the
darkest leaden hue, bristling with pines, and advancing boldly into
the snowy white ocean, or starting from its bed in the strongest
relief. As darkness came on, and the stars arose, a light fog
gathered round me, and I quitted with reluctance one of the most
impressive and magic scenes I ever beheld.

Returning to my tent, I was interested in observing how well my
followers had accommodated themselves to their narrow circumstances.
Their fires gleamed everywhere amongst the trees, and the people,
broken up into groups of five, presented an interesting picture of
native, savage, and half-civilised life. I wandered amongst them in
the darkness, and watched unseen their operations; some were cooking,
with their rude bronzed faces lighted up by the ruddy glow, as they
peered into the pot, stirring the boiling rice with one hand, while
with the other they held back their long tangled hair. Others were
bringing water from the spring below, some gathering sprigs of
fragrant _Artemisia_ and other shrubs to form couches--some lopping
branches of larger trees to screen them from nocturnal radiation;
their only protection from the dew being such branches stuck in the
ground, and slanting over their procumbent forms. The Bhotanese were
rude and boisterous in their pursuits, constantly complaining to the
Sirdars, and wrangling over their meals. The Ghorkas were sprightly,
combing their raven hair, telling interminably long stories, of which
money was the burthen, or singing Hindoo songs through their noses in
chorus; and being neater and better dressed, and having a servant to
cook their food, they seemed quite the gentlemen of the party.
Still the Lepcha was the most attractive, the least restrained, and
the most natural in all his actions, the simplest in his wants and
appliances, with a bamboo as his water-jug, an earthen-pot as his
kettle, and all manner of herbs collected during the day's march to
flavour his food.