A thousand miles on an elephant in the Shan States

by Holt S. Hallett

For the next six miles we skirted the eastern face of the cliffs, the streams on our right draining into the Meh Pam, which enters the Meh Ping a mile to the south of Muang Ngai. As we left the cliffs to descend to the Meh Poi, a heavy shower of rain came down on us like a deluge, from a low-lying cloud which capped some of the neighbouring peaks. The broken rainbows on the mist, and the battle between sunshine and cloud amongst the crags and peaks, made such a scene of beauty and grandeur that even the stolid elephant-drivers stopped their animals and shouted with delight.

We halted for the night at Pang Pau, on the banks of the Meh Poi, which lies 2357 feet above the sea. This stream rises a few miles off to the north-west, not far from the gap through which the Huay Sai passes from Muang Hang. The Huay Sai, flowing to the Meh Ping, which empties into the Gulf of Siam, and the Meh Hang, which enters the Salween, flowing into the Indian Ocean, both rise in the same plain, which is only separated from the Meh Fang, which drains into the Cambodia river, flowing into the China Siam by the range we were about to cross.

Next morning, after crossing the Meh Poi, we ascended a spur to the Pa Too Din (or Earthen Gate), the pass over Loi Kyoo Pa Săng. During the ascent it was raining heavily. The crest of the pass is 58¾ miles from Zimmé, and 2645 feet above the sea; and the hill is composed of a soft sandstone.

Descending the slope for a quarter of a mile, we reached the bottom of the valley, which is said to be merely a long pocket in the hills, its drainage passing in underground passages beneath them. From the bottom we immediately commenced to ascend to the Pa Too Pa (or Stone Gate), which we reached after a toilsome climb of just one hour, the horizontal distance being barely half a mile. The slope was formed of hard blocks of traprock, with an outcrop of non-crystalline metamorphic rock. The path up the ravine was so steep and slippery in places that it seemed impossible for any animal less agile than a man to ascend it. Our elephants proceeded slowly but surely, keeping, like links in a chain, so close together, that one felt if one should slip he would carry the others with him. The path is not more than 18 inches broad, and is strewn with great rocks. It is said to be the most difficult pass in the country. Its crest lies 59½ miles from Zimmé, and 2916 feet above the sea. Mr Archer gives the altitude as 2750 feet above the sea; and Mr Gould, as 1600 feet above Zimmé. There may be a slight error in my height on account of atmospheric disturbance and a dense mist.

Not far from the head of the pass, on the northern side, are two natural wells called Hoo Low, of great depth—one 6 feet and the other 10 feet in diameter. A pebble took four seconds in reaching the bottom. Two miles of easy descent among limestone hills brought us to the plain of Nong Vee-a, bounded on the north-west by a fine precipitous hill of mural limestone, called Loi Tum Tap Tow, rising about 1200 feet above the plain.

Four miles from the summit of the pass, two great depressions in the ground, called Boo-arks, occur,—one 250 feet in diameter and 25 feet deep; and the other, 300 feet long, 250 feet broad, and 8 feet deep. These have evidently been caused by the subsidence of the ground into underlying caverns in the limestone formation. Near these we left the path and crossed the plain for about half a mile to visit the sacred cave of Tum Tap Tow, which is situated not far from the north end of the hill. It was in this cave, according to M‘Leod, “where the last Buddh (Gaudama) is said to have rested after a surfeit of pork which caused his death.” Further particulars of this legend accounting for the name of the cave were related to us, whereby it appears that, on hearing of Gaudama’s death, a number of his disciples shut themselves in this cave, and contemplated his perfections so intently as to become unconscious of the pangs and cravings of hunger, and thus also attained Neiban (Nirvana)—the state of forgetfulness and perfect rest.

On dismounting at the foot of the hill, we camped for breakfast, and then started on foot to the cave amidst a heavy shower of rain. Before we had proceeded 50 feet, we found that we should have to wade nearly up to our waists in the icy-cold water flowing out of the face of the hill, and therefore returned to rearrange our toilets. I put on a Burmese Shan costume, topped by a waterproof coat; Mr Martin wore a flannel shirt under a coat, and a Siamese panoung or petticoat; whilst Dr M‘Gilvary draped himself in a gossamer waterproof, and carried a pair of sleeping-drawers to put on when he reached the cave. None of us wore shoes or stockings, and the sharp fragments of limestone in the path made us walk very gingerly.

After leaving the brook, we scrambled up a slope of shattered limestone and great blocks that had tumbled down from the cliff until the path lay up the face of the precipice, when it became so difficult as to make me rather dread the return journey. On reaching the entrance, we found it ornamented with stuccoed figures of spirits, having bird bodies, and elephant tusks and trunk in lieu of a beak.

Inside was a lofty cavern lighted by a natural skylight. On a raised platform in the cave was a great reclining image of Buddha, some 30 feet long, and around it a number of figures representing his disciples. Numerous small wooden and stone images of Buddha had been placed by pious pilgrims about the platform. Pillows, mattresses, robes, yellow drapery, flags, water-bottles, rice-bowls, fans, dolls, images of temples, dolls’ houses for the spirits, and all sorts of trumpery, were lying together, with fresh and faded flowers that had been offered to the images, and were strewn in front of them. A steep ladder led up to niches near the roof of the cave, in which other images were enshrined.

My companions, who were full of ardour, determined to explore the inner recesses of the cave, and accordingly lighted their torches and proceeded farther into the bowels of the earth, whilst I enjoyed a quiet smoke amongst the gods. Down they went, creeping through narrow low passages, over rocks, and along ledges, with chasms and pits lining their path as the cave expanded, bottomless as far as they could judge by the faint light of their torches, but really not more than 20 or 30 feet deep, until they could get no farther, and had to return, having proceeded about an eighth of a mile.