At noon we reached the zone of rhododendrons, and, passing through the pines, where we startled pheasants and some other birds of beautiful plumage, we came to a snow-covered ridge. Then we began the ascent of a steep spur, where we were told the Lepcha [[15]]troops of Sikkim had repelled the Gurkha invaders, shooting their arrows at them, and then rolling rocks down on the enemy. After this difficult piece of road, the ascent became more gradual and easier. On the way we saw some beehives, which differ in shape from those of the plains, being like great white fungi projecting from the rock.
At 2 p.m. we reached the Dok of Yampung, situated on the lee side of the range. Long mendong mark the approach to the village, and flying flags show the whereabouts of the yak-sheds and houses; patches of snow and ice glistening in the sun gave, from a distance, a fine appearance to the village, but, on approaching, the beauty vanished, as we perceived the forlorn and deserted condition of the place. Not a living being, not a yak, nor a dog, only some hungry crows perched on the flag-poles and the roofs. The village is composed of a dozen houses built very rudely of loose stone slabs, the roofs made of long pine planks kept in their places by stones. The larger houses were locked up, and the doors of those without locks were sealed by strings. Heaps of red dye-creepers were in every house, which the people exchange for salt brought here from Eastern Nepal in the summer months and in November after the first snows. The Limbus and Lepchas of Western Sikkim come here annually to buy salt, wool, tea, and Tibetan earthenware, in exchange for murwa, maize, dye-creepers, and other little commodities of the Darjiling bazar.
November 18.—The Yampung la, though not lofty, presented much difficulty in the ascent, the vegetation on its sides not so luxuriant as that on the Jongri la, which is nearly of equal height. To the north the range skirts the snows of the famous Kangchan, the dreaded Khumba Karna of the hillmen. The eye, on all sides but the east, met only snow, and as I descended to the south-western flank of the Du la, “Demon Mount,” I looked down towards the deep gorge through which the Ringbi leaps with ceaseless roar. The snow-streams from the Yampung la flow into a lake some half-mile in circumference, called Tama chu, on account of its crescent shape; the Nepalese call it Lampokri.
With the Du la the difficulties of the ascent began. Ugyen complained of headache and shortness of breath, and said he was sick with la dug (mountain-sickness); and to add to our troubles, such a gale was blowing that I was thrown to the ground several times. One of the coolies fell helpless to the ground, his feet frost-bitten. I gave him my shoes and Kabul socks, putting on myself a new pair of [[16]]Tibetan boots. The direct way to Gumo tang was blocked with snow, so we had to make a detour by the northern and western flanks of the pass. The snow was frozen, and walking became very dangerous. I made my way as best I could, using both hands and feet. The gorge along which we advanced was so deep that the eye tired of following its windings. The snows from the pass supply the headwater of the Yong-dso chu, which runs past the Jongri (la). The descent was even more dangerous than the ascent; my coolies, used to such work, had soon left me far behind.
Leaving the snows of the Du la, we again came in sight of deep gorges filled with pines, with here and there bits of pasture-land overhung by rugged cliffs.
Again we had to cross a spur, beyond which lay Gumo tang, our next halting-place, in a deep gorge, some 2000 feet below us. We followed a glacier, and by six in the evening I reached the beautifully wooded Gumo tang gorge, and found it flooded by a torrent coming from the melting snows to the north-east. On the other side of the precipice which overhangs Gumo tang is Lachmi pokri, “The Lake of Fortune,” said to contain gold and precious stones. It is a mile in circumference, deep black in colour, and in its depths are water-elephants, the people say.
November 19.—Crossing a stream, with water knee-deep, flowing eastward to feed the Ratong, we began the ascent of the Bogto la. Firs and junipers of various species overhung our way, which lay along the sides of a dry, glacial channel, with a stream flowing down it, and débris on either side. There are two tracks from here leading to the only shed on the slope of the Bogto; one follows the course of the stream which comes down from the Tso-nag lake, and is usually taken by the Yampung herdmen and the salt traders from Yangma; but the one we followed is not liked by them, as there grows along it a plant called Dug shing,[24] a deadly poison if eaten by yaks or sheep. Pheasants were feeding on the rhododendron berries, and we also saw herds of wild sheep; but before we reached the summit the rhododendrons and junipers disappeared, and we only saw now and then some lichens or moss-like vegetation in the clefts of the rocks.[25]
Reduced for the last few days to a miserable diet of rice and tea, [[17]]we were but ill prepared to go through the exertion of climbing up to such high altitudes. I pushed on for half a mile, my head aching violently and with continual retching; I finally fell to the ground, and lay there breathless and utterly exhausted. The coolies suffered even more than I, for while I had only my heavy clothing to carry, they had their loads besides. The wind was piercingly cold, and clouds scudded across the sky. One of the men prepared some tea; I drank a little, but I had no desire for food, though Phurchung insisted on my eating a frozen egg and a little dried fruit. Wrapped in all my blankets, I lay prostrate, my feet resting against one of the loads to prevent me rolling into the abyss. I passed the night in a troubled sleep, while close by me my companions were snoring in deep slumber.
November 20.—The sky was overcast and a gentle breeze was blowing, and the guide, who saw signs of a snowstorm, took up his load reluctantly, after chanting some mantras, and, leaving this dreadful place, called the Noga slope, we began the ascent of the pass.
A few hundred yards of ascent brought us to the Tso-nag tso, a lakelet now frozen to the bottom, of oval shape, and about 400 yards long and 200 broad; passing this we crossed from ridge to ridge, each covered with sheets of ice, the scenery of the wildest grandeur, the solitude appalling, no sound of water, not even the fall of an occasional avalanche was heard, no one spoke, all were intent on making their way over the slippery surface.