November 22.—Crossing two streams with swampy banks, the way led uphill for a while through thickets of rhododendrons, where we saw numerous green pheasants of the colour of a green parrot, with spurs on their legs and a deep, thick red line round their eye. In size they were larger than a domestic fowl.[29] Next we came to the Yalung river, which we crossed by a substantial bridge of cedar logs and silver-fir planks, and then we began the ascent of the steep and lofty Chunjorma, or “Collection of Cascades.” In the wooded solitudes on the lower slopes of the great Kanchanjinga stood the little monastery of Dechan rolpa. The predecessor of the present abbot, it is said, was able to visit Na-Pematang, the Lepcha Paradise, which has only been entered by seven families, and which lies between the Cho-kanchan and Cho-kanchanjinga. [[22]]
Some three miles to the west of the Dechan rolpa gomba is the village of Yalung, where twelve families live who spend their summer in tending yaks at Yalung, and their winter at Yanku tang, in the valley of the Kabili.[30]
Passing by the two lakelets of Tso chung donka, we ascended the mountains of the same name, and finally reached by the Nango la the summit of Chunjorma, which name applies to the portion of the pass between the Nango la and the Mirkan la, where the road from Nepal by Khan-do-phug joins it.
From Mirkan la we passed some lofty crags, called Ta-miran kukyab, the principal of which is said to be the image of the horrible deity Tamdrin, or Hayagriva. In shape it resembles a horse’s head (Ta-mgrin) facing towards Kanchanjinga. Descending, we found grass growing on the Pangbo la, and on the Zinan la were junipers and rhododendrons. At about 7 p.m. we reached Mudang phug, Phurchung carrying me on his back for part of the way,
November 23.—Our way led along an extensive moraine, the huge reddish boulders of which were covered with creeping tamarisks and dwarf junipers. After about a mile we reached Manda phug, a hollow between two gigantic boulders, the one inclined towards the other; and here we took our breakfast of rice and buttered tea. The vegetation improved as we neared Manda la, and the sight of thick forest growth in the deep glens refreshed our eyes, so long tired with looking on barren rocks. From Tama la, where we saw some shepherds tending their flocks and some yaks, one descends the Yamatari valley, the top of the slope being held sacred to the dreaded Mamo goddesses; on the rhododendron bushes were white and red flags offered to them by wayfarers. From this point I obtained a good view of the Kangpa-chan valley.
Finding that I was greatly exhausted, Dao Namgyal, Phurchung’s brother-in-law, took me on his back and carried me till we reached the north-west flank of the Tama la. Soon after this we came to a flat, grass-covered valley with tall rhododendrons and ferns growing about. Phurchung held this spot to have been a singularly lucky one for him, for it was here that his parents had met Hooker some thirty-five years ago, while the great botanist was exploring Nepal. Phurchung’s father, suffering from snow-blindness, was led by his wife to the Doctor, who not only gave him excellent medicine, but presented her [[23]]with a pretty coin to hang about the neck of her child, Phurchung, then a baby in the arms.[31]
At about 2 p.m. we reached the Yamata ri, formed by the streams which issue from Kanchanjinga. The gorge in which this river flows is singularly beautiful. Above the steep crags on either side were blue glaciers, and at their feet forests of native firs and larches, covered with pendant mosses waving like feathers in the breeze. Just before reaching Kangpa-chan (Gyunsar) village, the Yamata ri river is crossed by a little bridge, and then the village with its wooden huts comes in view. Some of the houses were empty; a few old hags with goitre sat on their thresholds basking in the sun and spinning.
Phurchung had reached this, his native village, ahead of us, and he now came, much the worse for drink, to greet us, and led us into his mother’s house, where a fire of rhododendron boughs and aromatic firs blazed in the middle of the room. Chang[32] was ready in wooden bottles, and his mother poured some boiling water into them as soon as we were seated on the cushions placed for us. Some dry junipers and pines were burnt as incense, and two joss-sticks smoked before us. Then two brass plates full of boiled, red-skinned potatoes were offered us, followed by rice and boiled mutton, the rice being served wrapped up in the broad leaves of some kind of hill plant. When night came on we sat around the fire, each with a bottle of murwa before him; but drowsiness soon overtook me, and I fell asleep.
November 24.—The village of Kangpa-chan[33] is built on several terraces facing the south-west, the houses enclosed in low stone walls. Several small streams empty into the Kangchan below the village, and mountains covered with snow and ice rise precipitously on either side of it, their lower slopes clad with thick forest growth of moss-covered silver firs, deodars, and larches. Juniper and [[24]]rhododendron bushes surround the village. Round about it are patches of barley,[34] from one to the other of which flew flocks of wild pigeons.
Coming back from a stroll, I found two men waiting to invite me to drink chang at their houses; and having accepted their invitation, I went first to that of a man called Jorgya. Taking my seat on a thick mattress-like seat covered with a piece of Khamba carpet, a bamboo bottle filled with murwa, with a little piece of butter placed on top of it, was set before us.[35] Tea was first drunk, the housewife serving mine in a china cup, a form of Tibetan politeness only shown to persons of superior social standing, those of equal or inferior rank to the host using the wooden bowls each one carries about in the breast of his gown. After this, a brass plate filled with potatoes was placed before us on a little table, together with parched Indian corn, milk, and butter, of all of which we ate heartily.