CHAPTER XIII

THE PEAKS AND MOUNTAIN RANGES

Not, indeed, from the valley itself, but from the mountains which bound it, can be seen the second highest mountain in the world, and a number of peaks of 25,000 feet and over. Kashmir is cradled amidst the very loftiest mountains, and only Nepal can claim still higher peaks.

By a fortunate coincidence the Government of India have this year published a remarkably interesting scientific treatise on the high peaks and principal mountain ranges of Asia, by Colonel Burrard, R.E., F.R.S., the officiating Surveyor-General of India, and H. H. Hayden, Superintendent in the Geological Survey of India. Both these officers have unique qualifications for the task. Colonel Burrard has for years made a special study of the Himalayas, and Mr. Hayden has for a great part of his service been engaged in investigating the geology of various districts of the Himalayas, and he accompanied me to Tibet.

The highest peak in the world is Mount Everest, which is taken to be 29,002 feet above sea-level, and is situated at the back of Nepal. The second highest is the peak K² situated on the boundary between the Kashmir State and Turkestan, and on the main watershed dividing the rivers of India from the rivers of Central Asia. It is 28,250 feet above the sea, and is visible from Haramokh on the northern range of Kashmir.

It may be wondered why so high a peak has no name. The reason is that, though high, it is not visible from any inhabited place. It is hidden away in a remote mountain region behind other peaks of almost as great magnitude, which being nearer overshadow it—as Mount Everest itself is overshadowed from Darjiling by the Kinchinjunga range. There is no village within six days' travel of K² on either side, and, consequently, until it was fixed by observation of the Survey, it was unknown. Colonel Montgomerie, when making the survey of Kashmir, discovered K². It was among a series of peaks on what is known as the Karakoram range, and each of these he designated by the capital letter K, after Karakoram, and by a number, K¹, K², K³, etc. So it came about that what proved to be the second highest mountain in the world became known, not by any name, but by merely a letter and a number.

In 1887, on my way from Peking to India, I passed close under K² on its northern side, and in a paper read before the Royal Geographical Society in the following year made some reference to it. At the conclusion of my lecture, the late General Walker and Sir Henry Rawlinson proposed the name of Godwin Austin, after the survey officer who made the topographical survey of the southern portion of the Karakoram range. This name was adopted by the Geographical Society, and now appears on many maps. But it has never been accepted by the Government of India, and Colonel Burrard in his above-mentioned treatise now writes:—"Of all the designations suggested for the supreme peak of the Karakoram that of K² has now the widest vogue, and it will be in the interests of uniformity if this symbol be adopted in future to the exclusion of all others. The permanent adoption of the symbol K² will serve to record the interesting facts that a mountain exceeding 28,000 feet in height had not been deemed worthy of a name by the people living under its shades, and that its pre-eminent altitude was unsuspected until it was brought to light by trigonometrical observation."

With these observations I entirely agree.

K² was, as I have said, discovered by Colonel Montgomerie in 1858. He took the first observation to it from Haramokh, the conspicuous peak on the north side of the valley of Kashmir, at a distance of 137 miles. I saw it first from the north from the Aghil range which I discovered in 1887, and I subsequently passed close under it both then and in 1889, and never shall I forget the impression it left on me as I rounded a spur, and looking up a valley saw, quite unexpectedly, this real mountain monarch towering almost immediately above me, very abrupt and upstanding, and with immense masses of ice accumulated at its base. I have also seen Mount Everest from the north, and it is remarkable that both these peaks, which are so inconspicuous from the southern side, should stand out so boldly from the north. K² is not so massive a mountain as Kinchinjunga and Nanga Parbat. It is rather the bold culminating peak of a range.

The height of K² is put down as 28,250 feet above the sea. How can we be certain that this is right? The reply is that we cannot. The observations have been made from immense distances, and are consequently liable to certain errors which have been discussed by Colonel Burrard.

It was observed from the following stations:—

Station.	Height above Sea.	Distance.
Shangruti	17,531	78·9
Biachuthusa	16,746	99·0
Marshala	16,906	58·6
Kastor	15,983	66·0
Thurigo	17,246	61·8
Haramokh	16,001	136·5
Kanuri-Nar	15,437	114·3
Barwai	16,304	88
Thalanka	16,830	74·7

And apart from the errors due to distance there are others which must always be counted on. As he remarks, no telescope is absolutely perfect; no level is entirely trustworthy; no instrumental graduations are strictly exact; and no observer is infallible. Then, again, the peaks themselves do not always have clearly defined summits, though K² happens in this respect to be a model for observation, and as it has been observed on several occasions from different stations, the errors in the mean value of height due to faults of observation are, probably, in Colonel Burrard's opinion, less than ten feet. Another source of error is the adoption of possibly erroneous altitudes for the stations of observation. The altitude of K² was observed from Haramokh and other stations, but the altitude of Haramokh itself may be a few feet wrong, and the altitude of K² on this account may be thirty feet in error. Another element of uncertainty in determining the height of a peak is caused by the variation in the amount of snow on its summit. There is clearly more snow on the summit of a peak in winter than in summer, and in a hot, dry summer there may be less than in a generally cloudy, snowy summer. A more complicated description of error is introduced by the deviation of gravity from the normal in great mountain ranges. The attraction of the great mass of the Himalaya mountains and of Tibet pulls all liquids towards itself as the moon attracts the ocean. The liquid in levels on the theodolites with which observations of the peaks are made is similarly affected: the plates to the theodolites in consequence cannot be exactly adjusted, and when apparently truly levelled are in reality tilted upwards towards the mountains. At Kurseong, near Darjiling, they would be as much as 51" out of true level and at Mussouri about 37".

MOUNT HARAMOKH, FROM THE ERIN NULLAH

But the most serious source of uncertainty in the measurement of the altitude of a peak is the refraction of the atmosphere. A ray of light from a peak to an observer's eye does not travel along a straight line, but assumes a curved path concave to the earth. The ray enters the observer's eye—I quote from Colonel Burrard—in a direction tangential to the curve at that point, and this is the direction in which the observer sees the peak. It makes the peak appear too high. This refraction is greatest in the morning and evening, and least in the middle of the day; it is different in summer from what it is in winter. One of the great Himalayan peaks visible from the plains of India would appear, from observations with a theodolite made to it from the plains, to fall 500 feet between sunrise and the afternoon, and to rise again 300 feet before sunset; and even in the afternoon, when it would appear lowest, it would still be too high by perhaps 700 feet. This is obviously a very fruitful source of error, and the difficulty of determining the error is increased by the fact that the curvature of the ray varies with the rarefaction of the atmosphere. In the higher altitude, when the rarefaction of the atmosphere increases, the ray assumes a less curved path. All these possible sources of error due to the rarefaction of the atmosphere have been most carefully studied, but even now we must allow 10 to 30 feet as possible error due to the rarefaction of the atmosphere.

A MOUNTAIN GLEN, BEFORE THE MELTING OF THE SNOWS

Summarising the possible sources of error in fixing the height of K² we may say the error may be from—

Errors of observation	20 ft.
Adoption of erroneous height for observing station	30 ft.
Variation of snow-level from the mean	Unknown
Deviation of gravity	Unknown
Atmospheric refraction	10 to 30 ft.

K², as I have said, though on the borders of the Kashmir State, and visible from the range which bounds the Kashmir valley, is not visible from the valley itself. But Nanga Parbat can be seen from near Baramula and from a few other parts of the valley, and is the most striking object in the view from Gulmarg and other points of the northward-facing slope of the Pir Panjal. It ranks eighth among the mountains of the world, except K² all the others being in the Nepal Himalayas. The order of the mountains is:—

	Feet.
Mount Everest	29,002
K²	28,250
Kinchinjunga	28,146
Makalu	27,790
T¹⁵	26,867
Dhaulagiri	26,795
XXX	26,658
Nanga Parbat	26,620

Being more accessible than the remote K² the observations for its height were made at much closer quarters, the nearest observation point being 43 miles distant instead of 61 as in the case of K². It was observed in all from eleven different points, of which the most remote was 133 miles. But until it had been measured by the Survey it had been marked on maps as only 19,000 feet.

Colonel Burrard says it is "the most isolated and perhaps the most imposing of all the peaks of Asia." It certainly is remarkable for its isolation. With the exception of subordinate pinnacles rising from its own buttresses, no peak within 60 miles of it attains an altitude of more than 17,000 feet. Throughout a circle of 120 miles' diameter Nanga Parbat surpasses all other summits by more than 9000 feet. And its upper 5000 feet are precipitous. It stands out therefore in solitary nobleness, and it can be seen on its northern side rising 23,000 feet from the Indus, there only 3500 above the sea. But whether it is of all mountains the really most imposing it is not easy to say, and personally I almost cling to Kinchinjunga. Rakaposhi in Hunza, which is 25,550 feet in altitude, and can be seen rising sheer up from the Hunza River 5000 feet above sea-level, is also wonderfully impressive. There is a peak on the Pamirs 25,146 feet high which can be seen rising abruptly from the plains of Turkestan, which are but a little over 3000 feet; and there is the Musherbrum Peak near K² which is 25,660 feet—all of which I have seen, and which I find it hard to place exactly in order of relative impressiveness. But if Nanga Parbat cannot be placed in unquestionably the first position, it will in most men's estimation approximate to it, and must in any case be reckoned among the few most striking sights in the world.

Of what are these great peaks built up? No one has yet ascended their summits, and as Mr. Hayden points out, the geologist has to do his work at close quarters, and not like the surveyor from a distance. So the composition of the highest peaks is rarely known in any detail, though the general character of the rocks can be ascertained with a fair approximation to certainty, from observation of material on the flanks, and from a distant view of the weathering character and apparent structure of the peaks themselves. From such observations it has been found that almost all the peaks of 25,000 feet or more in height are composed of granite, gneiss, and associated crystalline rocks. It had long be supposed that some of the granites found on the flanks of the great peaks which presented a foliated appearance were of sedimentary origin, and had therefore been once deposited beneath the sea. But their truly intrusive nature was recognised by the late Lieutenant-General M'Mahon, who proved conclusively that the great central gneissose rock of the Himalayas was in reality a granite crushed and foliated by pressure. It may certainly be taken that both K² and Nanga Parbat are composed of granite, and have been intruded or compressed upward from beneath the earth's crust.

Mr. Hayden further concludes that the exceptional height of these great peaks is due to their being composed of granite, for either the superior power of the granite to resist the atmospheric forces tending to their degradation has caused them to stand as isolated masses above surrounding areas of more easily eroded rocks, or they are areas of special elevation.

LAKE SHISHA NAG, LIDAR VALLEY

Now it is found that the axes of the great mountain ranges are also composed of granite, and it seems probable that special elevating forces have been at work to raise certain parts of their ranges above the general level of the whole. And when once such elevation has been brought about, the disparity between the higher peaks and the intervening less elevated area would undoubtedly be intensified by the destructive forces at work, for the mantle of snow and ice, while slowly carrying on its work of abrasion, would serve as a protection for the peaks against the disintegrating forces of the atmosphere, while the lower unprotected areas would be more rapidly eroded.

So argues Mr. Hayden, who further demonstrates that when, during the development of the Himalayas as a mighty mountain range vast masses of granite welled up from below, forcing their way through and lifting up the pre-existing rocks superimposed upon them, it is probable that, owing to dissimilarity of composition and to structural weaknesses in certain portions of the earth's crust, movement was more intense at some points than at others, and that the granite was raised into more or less dome-like masses standing above the general level of the growing range, and subsequently carved by the process of erosion into clusters of peaks.

The great peaks being thus of intrusive origin, the question naturally arises whether they are still being intruded upward; whether those great forces at work beneath the surface of the earth are still impelling them upward; and if so, whether they are being forced upward more rapidly than the atmospheric forces are wearing down their summits. From the geological standpoint Mr. Hayden says that it is not at present possible to say whether the elevatory movement is still in progress, but he adds that many phenomena observable in the Himalayas lead us to infer that local elevation has until quite recently been operative, and the numerous earthquakes still occurring with such frequency and violence forcibly remind us that the Himalayas have by no means reached a period of even comparative rest. The surveyor can as yet give us no more certain answer. Colonel Burrard says the original observations of the great peaks made between 1850 and 1860 were not sufficiently prolonged at any one station to enable us to rely with certainty on the values of the height then obtained. When a slow variation in height has to be determined it is better to carry out a long series of observations from one station only, rather than to take a number of observations from different stations, as is necessary and as was done in determining the absolute height of peaks. But in 1905 the Survey of India commenced a series of observations from one station, and it is proposed to observe the heights of several peaks for some years and at different seasons in each year. Then if a reliable series of results be once obtained, a similar set of observations can be repeated at a subsequent date, and any actual change of height that has occurred in the interval may be discovered.

DISTANT VIEW OF NANGA PARBAT FROM THE KAMRI PASS

Until these observations are made we cannot say for certain whether the great peaks are still rising.

The Mountain Ranges

So far we have considered the isolated peaks rather than the ranges themselves. It remains to study these latter. All of them are popularly regarded as forming part of the "Himalayas." But Himalaya—pronounced with the stress on the second syllable—simply means the "abode of snow"; and geographers have had to define the separate ranges into which this great Himalayan region is divided. The name of the Great Himalaya is consequently reserved for the supreme range which extends from the western borders of China, carries the great peaks, Mount Everest and Kinchinjunga, and runs through Kumaon and Kashmir to Nanga Parbat, and possibly farther. This is the culminating range of the earth's surface. The range to the north, on which stands K² and some satellite peaks of 26,000 feet, is neither so long nor has it quite such lofty peaks. It is known as the Karakoram range because a pass called the Karakoram Pass crosses it. But a pass called the Mustagh also crosses it, and Mustagh means Ice Mountain, whereas Karakoram means black gravel. Mustagh, therefore, appears to me a much more appropriate name for this gigantic range of ice-clad mountains. It so happens that I am the only European who has crossed both passes. Each of them is close upon 19,000 feet in altitude, but the Karakoram, very curiously, has in summer no snow upon it, and the route leads over black gravel. It is a better known pass than the former, and, consequently, the name of black gravel got the start, and now this superb range of mountains is doomed for all time to suffer from this absurd nomenclature.

MOUNT KOLAHOI, LIDAR VALLEY

The range, however, lies far at the back of Kashmir, and it is not so much with it as with the true Himalaya range that we are here concerned. The mountain ranges which encircle the valley of Kashmir are the final prolongations of that mighty range which runs from the borders of Burma thirteen hundred miles away, and bifurcating at the Sutlej River, forms with its subsidiary spurs the cradle in which the Kashmir valley is set.

The southern branch of this bifurcation is known as the Pir Panjal range, and is that which bounds Kashmir on the south. It is the largest of all the lesser Himalayan ranges, and even at its extremity in Kashmir it carries many peaks exceeding 15,000 feet; the Tatakuti Peak, 30 miles south-west of Srinagar, 15,524 feet in height, being the most conspicuous.

The northern branch of the bifurcation at the Sutlej River of the great Himalayan range culminates in the Nun Kun peaks (23,410 feet and 23,250 feet), which stand conspicuously 3000 feet above the general crest of the range, and can be seen on clear days from Gulmarg. From near them, not far from the Zoji-la, an oblique range branches from the great Himalayan range, and constitutes the parting between the Jhelum River and the Kishenganga, the latter river draining the angle formed by the bifurcation. The height of this North Kashmir range, as Colonel Burrard calls it, is greatest near the point of bifurcation, one of its peaks, Haramokh (16,890 feet), reaching above the snow-line, and being the most conspicuous object which meets the eye of a traveller entering the valley from the south. Farther westward the range ramifies and declines.

The main line of the great range of the Himalayas has meanwhile continued from the remarkable depression at the Zoji Pass along by the Kamri Pass, to the immense mountain buttress of Nanga Parbat which, overhanging the deep defiles of the Indus, seems to form a fitting end to the mighty range which started on the confines of China. But there are great mountains beyond the Indus also, and whether these form a continuation of the great Himalayan axis which the river Indus would in that case have merely cut through in the gorges below Nanga Parbat, or whether the mountains west of the Indus are part of a separate range, we shall not know till these latter have been geologically examined.