A thousand miles on an elephant in the Shan States

by Holt S. Hallett

During our stay near the guard-house, the temperature in the shade varied between 46° and 81°, the extreme cold being at daybreak, and the greatest heat at two o’clock in the afternoon.

On the morning of the 31st of January we left early, and following the Meh Tha Wah, and its northern branch the Meh Plor, and crossing two spurs for the sake of shortness, reached the summit of the pass over the great spur that separates the drainage of the Meh Tha Wah from that of the Meh Too, which enters the Thoungyeen two or three miles below the guard-house—the crest of the pass being 46 miles distant from Hlineboay, and 2060 feet above sea-level. The spur can easily be avoided by following the valley of the Meh Too.

Leaving the pass, we descended along the Tsin-sway, or Elephant-tusk, stream to the Meh Too, dropping 300 feet in the mile and a half. Proceeding up the Meh Too, we camped for the night at the forty-ninth mile.

The next morning we left early. A mile on, the stream forked, and we followed the intervening spur, which gradually flattened out and spread until we reached the foot of the pass over the Karroway Toung. A short climb of 400 feet past an outcrop of limestone, led us to the crest, 2817 feet above the sea, and 52 miles from Hlineboay, from whence we had a magnificent view of the country to the west. Here Mr Bryce’s party passed us, and we did not see it again until we reached Maing Loongyee.

Having taken some photographs, we followed a rivulet and descended 260 feet in a mile to the Oo-caw, a small stream which flows eastwards into the Meh Ngor, where we halted for breakfast. During the descent from the pass the Shans brought me branches of the tea-plant, which was growing wild in the hills. Its long narrow leaves reminded me of the willow. The men told me that it was likewise found on the route from Maulmain to Raheng, as well as in the ranges to the north of the pass right up to China. Some of the plants were fully 15 feet in height.

From the Oo-caw we should have descended to the Meh Ngor, and followed the stream to the Meh Nium, as Dr Richardson had done on his journey to Zimmé in 1829; but the elephant-drivers said that the route was overgrown, the Karens preferring to keep open the hill-path, along which, owing to the shallowness of the streams, they could proceed throughout the year. Since leaving the Thoungyeen we had met a few parties of Karens, but had not seen any of their villages, as they build them away from the main tracks.

From the Oo-caw the road passes over a series of great spurs, separated by narrow steep-sided valleys, often merely a dip to the stream-bed. From the crests of the main spurs, which were occasionally higher than the summit of the pass, we had magnificent views of the country, which has the appearance of the desiccated remains of a great rolling plateau, the crest of the spurs following the wave-line across the main valley of the Meh Ngor.

There can be no doubt that the hill-bounded plateaux and valleys in the Shan States were at one time lakes, which were subsequently drained—some by subterranean channels, the stream reappearing on the other side of the hills, and others by great rifts made across the hills by earthquake action. The numerous mineral and hot springs we passed, and the earthquakes which still occur at times in the country, bespeak the continuance of unrest near the surface.

After scrambling over six great spurs, we halted for the night near a small mountain-stream. The strata seen since leaving the Thoungyeen had been limestone, sandstone, and shales, each appearing at various times. Many fine tree-ferns were noticed during the day.

The next day rain commenced at half-past three in the morning, and the showers continued until noon. Our howdahs were without covers during this stage of the journey, so we could not creep into them to escape from the storms which occasionally happen in the hills. Our shelter for the night consisted of a few lopped branches of trees, stuck in the ground, serving as rafters and wall-plates for our covering of waterproof sheets, while plaids hanging from the wall-plates formed the walls. This was amply sufficient to keep off the heavy dewfall, but enough care had not been spent on it to secure us from rain. I had turned in much fatigued, having stayed up late inking over the pencil notes in my field-book and writing up my journals, and had slept through the first shower, when I was awakened at half-past five by Dr Cushing, who told me I had better turn out as it was raining in torrents. I merely replied “All right,” and went to sleep again. Soon the water gathering on the waterproofs, which we had rigged up as a shelter, weighed them down and came pouring on to my mosquito-curtains, and, soaking through them, effectually brought me out of dreamland; but I got no compassion from my companion, who absolutely roared with laughter at my being ducked. A change of clothes and a peg of whisky were at hand, and having lit a cigar, I was ready to crouch out the storm cheerfully.