With the Connaught Rangers

by Edward Herbert Maxwell

We felt rather excited as we went off to bed, for the next day would bring the fulfilment of a long looked-for event, our first sight of the Vale of Cashmere. It was grey dawn when we marched away in the morning. The Jhellum sounded louder than ever, its roar preventing any conversation taking place, and making it expedient for us to ride on in silence. At first we passed through rugged, narrow glens, but soon we emerged into a grassy plain surrounded by high wooded hills, and, amazing metamorphosis! the loud and angry Jhellum flowed smoothly and quietly past with not a ripple on its waters.

And now, instead of rocky paths, our road was a perfect level, part of it through rice-fields. Here we met an old friend returning to the plains, accompanied by several coolies laden with trophies of the chase, and delighted with his wanderings in the mountains of Cashmere. There is a great charm in meeting an acquaintance when far from the haunts of civilized life.

After some pleasant conversation, we bade adieu to our friend, and continued our ride towards the wooded ridge in front of us, over which lies the Barramula Pass, which is some hundred feet above the plain. This was our last scramble, and when we arrived at the summit we both exclaimed, ‘The Happy Valley at last!’

The top is covered with green grass and shrubs; the view is extensive over a portion of the Vale of Cashmere. You see the Jhellum, the Walloor Lake, Sopoor, and the hills enclosing the northern side. I must own that the first glimpse is rather disappointing. Accustomed for days to the majestic mountains crowned with snow, the dark, mysterious valleys through which the river foamed and raged, the Vale of Cashmere, with its green and fertile pastures, was a sudden change. But soon our eyes became enamoured with the glowing charms of that sweet view, and were quite ready to appreciate fully all its delights.

The valley at some time must have been a vast sheet of water. The whole formation leads one to think this most probable, and the exit and drain of this vast lake must have occurred when the mass of water made itself an issue near Naoshera, and, tearing through the rocks, rushed madly on, leaving behind it the gently flowing river.

The trees in the Happy Valley are the plane, the walnut, the poplar, the mulberry, and the willow; while, higher up, the mountain sides are covered with forests of deodar and pine. Fruit is very plentiful, growing wild, and consists of mulberries, peaches, apples, pears, cherries, grapes, walnuts, and melons. Vegetables are also in great abundance. The soil is very rich, and during the summer there is no climate to be compared with that of Cashmere.

If the country were fairly governed, and the population unoppressed by tyrannical laws and injustice—in short, if we had retained possession of it when it once was ours, what a paradise it would now be! At present the flowers and fruit grow wild and untended, and the poor peasants are miserable specimens of humanity. Many a better class farmer has said to me, ‘Would that the English were our masters!’ When the traveller reaches Barramula, he is in the actual Vale of Cashmere.

‘Who has not heard of the Vale of Cashmere,

With its roses, the brightest that earth ever gave?’[3]

And now we were to change our mode of travelling—to have a rest from break-neck rides, and to travel luxuriously in boats. The horses were to go on by easy marches to Srinagur, there to meet us. They had carried us well over the hundred miles of difficult road we had come from Murree. The rocks they had scrambled over had been very hard on their feet, and repeatedly they had lost shoes; but I had come prepared for such contingencies, each syce carrying with him four strong leather boots, and whenever a shoe came off, a boot was slipped on to save the hoof; at the halting-places a blacksmith could always be found to put a shoe on, and we had our own with us. The natives keep only one size, very small, and they have been known to give lockjaw to travellers’ horses from paring away the hoof to fit them. The Jhellum at Barramula is smooth and broad.