The next day, still following the course of the Po Chu, we reached Nyenyam, a large and very insanitary village which is known under the name of Kuti by the Nepalis who constitute the majority of its inhabitants. These Nepali traders (Newars) have their own Hindu temple in the village. There is also a Nepalese chauki (court-house) with a haqim (magistrate) invested with summary powers of jurisdiction over Nepali subjects; he is specially charged with the settlement of trade disputes, and with the encouragement of Tibeto-Nepalese trade and commerce.
As is customary in all important districts of Tibet, there are here two Dzongpens, who by a polite fiction are known as “Eastern” and “Western” (Dzongshar and Dzongnup) respectively. Actually, the functions of the two Dzongpens are identical; the raison d'être of the double regime being an attempt to protect the peasants from extortion by the device of providing two administrators, who, in theory at least, act as a check upon each other's peculations. At the time of our arrival, those two worthies were so busy preparing a joint picnic that we had considerable difficulty in getting their attention.
I spent three days in exploring the neighbourhood of Nyenyam, while Wollaston was engaged in his botanical and zoological pursuits. Gujjar Singh, with the plane-table, was detained by bad weather higher up the valley. Below Nyenyam the river enters a very deep, narrow gorge; pines and other forest trees begin to appear. The road, which here becomes impassable for animals, crosses the river four times in 6 miles by cantilever bridges before reaching the village of Choksum, but I could find no trace of the portion described by explorer Hari Ram in 1871 as consisting of slabs of stone 9 to 18 inches wide supported on iron pegs let into the vertical face of the rock at a height of 1,500 feet above the river. At Choksum (10,500 feet) the river falls at an average rate of 500 feet per mile. The Nepal frontier is crossed near Dram village, some 10 miles further down stream, but owing to the vile state of the weather, which rendered even the roughest attempts at surveying impossible, I abandoned all idea of reaching the spot.
On July 20 we retraced our steps 9 miles up the valley to Tashishong, where we found Dr. Heron encamped, together with Gujjar Singh, whose work had been hung up for a week by continued cloud and rainfall. Heron returned Northwards next day, while we followed a rough easterly track leading over the Lapche Range to the village of the same name in the valley of the Kang Chu. The weather on this day was atrocious, and our last pretence of accurate surveying broke down. We were unable to reach Lapche village by dusk, and spent a somewhat cheerless night on boulders in drenching rain at 14,600 feet, with no fuel except a few green twigs of dwarf rhododendron.
Lapche (La-Rimpoche, “precious hill”) is sacred as the home and birthplace of Jetsun Mila Repa, a wandering lama and saint who lived in Southern Tibet in the eleventh century, and who taught by parables and songs, some of which have considerable literary merit. The two principal works ascribed to him are an autobiography, or namtar, and a collection of tracts called Labum, or the “myriad songs.” They are still among the most popular books in Tibet.[20] His hermit-cell still remains under a rock on the hillside, and his memory is preserved by an ancient temple and monastery, the resort of numerous pilgrims, alongside which we pitched our tents.
Lapche village is situated on a spur overlooking the junction of two branches of the Kang stream—the latter being a tributary of the Rongshar River, which, in turn, joins the Bhotia Kosi River in Nepal. The extreme dampness of the local climate is indicated by the trailing streamers of lichen which festoon the trees, and by the pent roofs of the buildings. The village contains some ten or twelve houses, of which half are occupied by Tibetans and half by Nepalese subjects (Sherpas)—each community having its own headman. The inhabitants were very friendly and pleasant, and gave us a good deal of information. The village is deserted during the winter months, when the whole population migrates across the border into Nepal. The Tibetans pay no taxes to Nepal during their half-yearly sojourn in the lower valley; conversely, the Nepalis during their summer residence in Lapche are not subject to Tibetan taxation or to the imposition of ulag (forced labour). The Tibetans of Lapche pay their taxes in the form of butter direct to the Lapche monastery, the head lama, or abbot, of which resides at Phuto Gompa near Nyenyam. The Nepal frontier is some 10 miles below Lapche, opposite the snow-peak of Karro Pumri. Katmandu can be reached in eight days, but the track is bad and very little trade passes this way.
Transport arrangements necessitated a day's halt at Lapche, which was fortunately enlivened by the timely arrival of a large parcel of letters and newspapers, which Colonel Bury had thoughtfully sent after us from Tingri—almost the last news of the outside world which we were to receive for over two months.
From Lapche we proceeded to the Rongshar Valley, crossing the Kangchen and Kangchung (“big snow” and “little snow”) passes. Descending the hill to Trintang village, where we camped on July 25, the clouds lifted momentarily, disclosing an amazing view of the superb snow summit of Gauri-Sankar towering magnificently above us just across the valley. This mountain, which is called by the Tibetans Chomo Tsering, or Trashi Tsering, is the westernmost of a group of five very sacred peaks known collectively as Tsering Tse-nga (“Tsering five peaks”). Unfortunately, owing to constant clouds, I was unable to identify with certainty the remaining four peaks of Tingki Shalzang, Miyo Lobzang, Chopen Drinzang and Tekar Drozang. Owing to the sacred nature of the Rongshar Valley, the slaughtering of animals is strictly forbidden; the large flocks and herds of the villagers are only sold for slaughter in the adjoining districts of Tingri and Nepal, and we were only able to buy a sheep on promising not to kill it until after quitting the valley.
Trintang village occupies a plateau 1,750 feet above the level of the river; 1,400 feet below is the village of Tropde, to which the Trintang residents all descend in winter. Rongshar Dzong, which is situated in the lower village, has no importance; at the time of our visit the Dzongpen had gone to his home on leave of absence, leaving his affairs in the hands of a steward.
A day's halt being necessary in order to collect transport, I took the opportunity of descending the Rongshar Valley as far as the Nepal frontier, while Gujjar Singh endeavoured, without much success, to pick up the threads of his survey by identifying the snowy peaks which occasionally afforded brief glimpses through rifts in the clouds. The Rongshar River drops 1,400 feet in 7 miles between Tropde and the Nepal frontier, which is crossed at an altitude of roughly 9,000 feet.