CHAPTER X
We made a very early start again the following morning, as I had the intention of crossing the range to the north of us and exploring some of the virgin glaciers of the Tinker region and in Tibet. The mountains were, however, so precipitous that we had some difficulty in finding a spot where we could climb up and take our loads as well.
We again proceeded upward towards the Charles Landor Glacier, but kept on the dune to the left (going up) instead of on the one we had taken coming down the previous night. Again we passed along huge cracks in the ice, and here and there more holes in the ice—relieving somewhat the monotony of the grey débris that covered that tail portion of the glacier. Again we got another distant glimpse of the majestic glacier itself towering in front of us [[102]]with its gigantic ice-terraces. Perhaps the reason that these terraces droop towards the southern side may be attributed to the heat of the sun shining upon the ice of that side for more hours than on the north side, as the high wall enclosing the basin on the east side casts a shadow upon the glacier until the sun is well up in the sky.
Moraine of Glacier and Mountains, showing how Clouds form on the Snow-Line
Somehow or other the dune we were on was not as regular as the one of the previous night, and the débris which covered it was very loose and slippery. It often crumbled under us, so that we thought we had better march in the deep channel between the mountain side and the dune. Here, too, we had to feel our way with great caution, as the ground was treacherous, with cracks in the ice bridged over with snow and débris. This seemed a great day for landslides. At every moment we heard crashing noises of masses of débris being precipitated upon the glacier, and some of them were quite near enough for us to see.
The range to the north of us seemed so uninterrupted and so steep everywhere, with a base of rotten débris, and high vertical rocks at the summit, that we were quite puzzled to find a spot where we could cross it. I had noticed a [[103]]likely—but difficult—place the day before, and it was, indeed, the only accessible way up. We there left the glacier and began a stiff climb on the loose débris, my men experiencing much difficulty in conveying their loads up. Every few hundred feet they had to lie down for some minutes to rest. Although the fatigue was really for them overpowering, they took matters in the right spirit, and instead of grumbling they laughed heartily at the difficulty of breathing, and the thumping and throbbing of the heart. We eventually got away from the lower débris and proceeded among large slabs of rock, most slippery and troublesome, and as sharp as knives, our feet getting constantly jammed between them. At last we came before a wall of rock, at such a steep angle that it looked almost perpendicular, with cracks and fissures in it, and on this we had to climb, clinging with all our might with fingers and toes. This part of the ascent was quite dangerous, for, had we slipped, it meant certain death. The rock was so cold that one’s fingers got semi-frozen; and we felt much relieved when every now and then we found a hollow or crack, or projection, allowing sufficient room to sit down and rest, our legs [[104]]swinging over the abyss down below. The bringing up the loads gave us no end of trouble, and it was a pleasure to see how thoughtful and helpful my men were to one another.
We eventually got to a spot where we could go neither up nor down, as some of the rock gave way; and it was with some trepidation that we watched one of my Shokas make steps in the rotten rock while clinging with one hand and his toes apparently to nothing. This took a long time, and this difficulty being overcome and a way made, we climbed and climbed on all fours until we reached the pass.
We heartily named it there and then the “Savage Pass.” We took a long rest on the summit, and erected two large cairns with our names in them. We obtained a most stupendous view of the glacier we had left behind uncoiling itself several hundred feet below us. It looked very nasty, with its huge cracks and crevasses, and the three dunes all along it, like huge serpents uncoiling themselves. We had hardly time to admire the scenery before we were enveloped in thick mist, to the north of us particularly, the entire landscape being hidden from us. A few moments later it began to snow. Water [[105]]boiled as low as 182°, while the temperature of the air was 51°, the altitude in feet being 17,331.
Whether because of the reaction after the hard work of getting up there, or because of the sudden cold and depression in the atmosphere, due to the coming storm, a number of my men were taken violently ill with mountain sickness. They wrapped themselves in their blankets, and said they were dying and could not move. After a good deal of persuasion, and some shaking—which is always a good remedy for most complaints—we made a start.
On the other side of the range we were confronted with very much the same sort of ground as what we had found coming up. First now came a wall-like rock precipice to descend—much more difficult always than to ascend; and then the snow falling fast prevented our seeing many feet ahead of us, besides making our hands, ears, and nose unpleasantly cold. We clung to those rocks and went carefully down, the rock being so rotted that it frequently gave way. In some hours’ work we were able to take all the baggage, partly by passing it down with ropes from one man to another, stationed at various heights upon the rocky wall. Even ourselves had to be let down [[106]]one by one with ropes in many places where the rock was so smooth and vertical that it was impossible to cling to it; but otherwise we were not roped together, the ropes used being merely those for slinging the loads on the men’s backs.
There rose a cutting wind, which made matters even more unpleasant, and drove the sleet and snow with great force into our faces. When the difficult part of the descent was over, and we gradually got lower down, the weather cleared somewhat, and we obtained a good view of the scenery to the north. The vertical rock we had descended measured 600 feet in height.
A magnificent undulating sea of clouds lay before us, screening the lower section of the valley; then three distinct glaciers showed themselves to the north of us, in terraces like gigantic stairways, but with their base hidden in the mist, and barren, desolate, snow-capped mountains rising above them. Then two more glaciers appeared. Above the most northerly of the three glaciers rose a peak 20,279 feet high. As a matter of fact, when the mist cleared up a little more, we discovered that these five glaciers were only the ramifications of one huge glacier, but they were distinctly separated in their upper portion by ridges.
Erecting Chokdens (Cairns) on the Savage Pass
Several men were taken with mountain sickness.
[[107]]
A sea of clouds is always an interesting sight, annoying as it is, at the time, when it screens the scenery one would like to see. In fact, the formation of clouds upon mountains is altogether an engrossing subject to an observant traveller. The clouds at elevations above the perpetual snow-line (about 16,000 in the Himahlyas) have a more feathery appearance than those formed below, and the higher the elevation the more feathery and light they seem to be. On the snow-line itself one generally saw clouds, chiefly of a globular character, and in such close succession as to form long horizontal streaks. This was particularly noticeable at sunrise and at sunset. During the night, except in case of storms, clouds formed less profusely, and, when they did, disappeared quicker than in the daytime. Just before sunrise, however, when the atmosphere was gradually getting warmer, at elevations from 13,000 to 16,000 feet, mists were constant, which eventually dispersed when the sun was high on the horizon. Towards sunset and soon afterwards they generally recurred again, but the nights were usually very clear. In that particular expedition, being always at very high elevations, I had an opportunity of seeing many phenomena of curious interest and beauty. [[108]]
One afternoon when I had climbed with two men on a small peak to reconnoitre the country around, we were confronted by a sea of mist down below. The sun was rather low behind us, and it projected our shadows, well defined but in an elongated form of some hundreds of feet, on the sheet of pure white mist beyond. It had quite a weird effect, when we were gesticulating, to see our movements magnified in the shadows to such gigantic proportions.
Another beautiful effect I observed on several occasions when enveloped in mist, of immense white concentric circles with a luminous centre, caused by the sun penetrating through different layers of mist. When under similar circumstances the sun was behind the spectator instead of in front, and the spectator himself not enveloped in the mist, a huge spectre—the spectator’s shadow—was often reflected in the centre of the luminous circle. As I have elsewhere described, the latter phenomenon can be produced by the moon or the sun, by the former in a less intensified form, by the latter with a circular rainbow of beautiful colours.
Night marching in a Storm
There are many kinds of “seas of mist” upon mountains, some with islands (mountain tops peeping through), some without; some smooth-surfaced [[109]]like a placid lake, others in undulations or actual waves like a stormy sea. The shadows and lights play upon the mist and produce many quaint effects, and objects assume curious and interesting shapes.
One misty evening, near the Nui Glacier, I saw before me what seemed an immense crouching lion carved in the rock, not unlike one of the famous lions in Trafalgar Square, only some thousand times bigger. Sure enough you could see the eyes, the luxuriant mane, the extended forepaws, and the tail spread out with the typical end tuft of hair. It was only on getting quite close that the huge animal showed itself to be a mere big boulder, with three mani walls with terminal chokdens (cairns) erected by Tibetans from its base, which from a distance formed the lion’s legs and tail.
So much for optical illusions; there are a thousand more upon high mountains, and it is the number of surprises one meets at every moment which makes a lonely life at great elevations full of enchantment.
Having, on our descent from the Savage Pass, reached a lower elevation and less perilous ground to tread upon, we directed our steps towards 20° (N.E.) bearings magnetic. At 16,100 feet we [[110]]found moss, but now dead and dry. Unfortunately for us we were benighted before we could find a suitable camping-ground, and a violent snow-storm broke out which made it very difficult to see where we were going. We were endeavouring to get lower down, where we could obtain some shelter and a slightly warmer temperature, my men being simply paralysed with cold. They stumbled along, a row of black silent figures, I keeping the direction in which I wanted to travel with a luminous compass.
A Sea of Mist
We went on for a considerable portion of the night, the storm getting so bad that we could not see where we were putting our feet; and towards midnight, having come across a lot of big boulders, we decided to take advantage of them and make camp. My men were so tired and frozen that they simply threw themselves down, covered themselves up, and went fast asleep, declining to eat any food. They had eaten nothing that day, for they maintained that if you eat food when you are so cold you will surely die. Of course their philosophy does not go quite so far as to reflect whether it is preferable to die of indigestion or from the low temperature. Personally, as I have never been troubled with the former, I thought I would not risk [[111]]the latter. While everybody around snored and moaned or was delirious from pain, I got out a small spirit Etna and attempted to brew myself some hot chocolate. Box after box of matches went in trying to keep it alight, and when, after using the patience of a saint, I had succeeded in making the water tepid, my tent was blown down on the top of us, and upset the whole thing. So, cold chocolate I ate in chunks and some corned beef—oh, it was cold!—and some biscuits.
It was as lonely a meal as I have ever had, with the wind hissing and the snow accumulating upon my shoulders, knees, and head. I did not like to rouse my poor men to put up the tent again, for it was no use, the snow was too deep and the pegs would not hold; but I made myself a sort of low shelter with some boxes and the tent spread on them, and having crept underneath, slept soundly till the morning.
“Oh, what a morning!” I exclaimed, when I opened my aching, half-frozen eyelids. Worse than the night before, and the snow coming down as I have seldom seen it come before. My baggage was buried altogether, and so were my men, except for some breathing-space cleared near the head. [[112]]All the urging in the world would not get them up, and every time I gave them a dig in sensitive spots with my bamboo stick, it only brought forth pitiable moans and groans.
Elongated Shadows on a Sea of Mist
Towards 10 A.M. the storm abated somewhat, and we dug out the loads and departed, my men still declining to eat any food. Hungry and shivering, they were indeed a pitiable sight. Their normal sense of humour was sadly lacking that day, and they strode unsteadily, with long, mournful faces, as if they were about to mount the executioner’s scaffold.
We went on the whole day mostly in mist and sleet and snow, and towards evening we arrived at the bottom of the valley. Excitement did not altogether lack. Three avalanches came down during the day with deafening fracas. One of them, which brought down a lot of débris and rock, sounded like a regular battle, with sharp fusilading and big artillery, with a deafening report at the end which almost stunned us.
Next we came to a broad river which it was necessary to ford, and wading across it chilled us about as much as we could endure. Our toes got so cold—almost frost-bitten—that it required some minutes of rubbing and thumping before we could [[113]]stand upon them again. The pain was quite excruciating.
While we were in this plight we heard voices. We answered, and presently two Jumli shepherds, half-scared and shaggy, cautiously approached us. We received the information that some few more hours’ marching would take us to the village of Tinker, and for it we made with renewed vigour. Stumbling and slipping constantly after it got dark, we went on and on. More snow, more wind. Hour after hour passed, but no village. At last, at 3 A.M., my men half-dead with fatigue and hunger, we arrived at the modest little village of Tinker. My men had wilfully been forty consecutive hours without a morsel of food, but once under a roof with a blazing fire, they were now preparing to make up for lost time. [[114]]