November 10.—The sky was cloudy and the atmosphere filled with fog when we set out. Along the banks of the streams we had to cross grew tall pines and giant ferns, while thick brushwood, ferns and rattans lined the banks, the water dashing down from the hill-tops in cascades. Pushing our way through the dense forests of the Hi range, the sky scarcely visible through the lofty oaks, pines and magnolias, we reached after an hour’s hard ascent the Rishi chorten, near which is a moss-covered mendong. The Hi La commences here, and from it one commands an excellent [[5]]view of South-Western Sikkim, including Tonglo and Singli, and the hills of Darjiling. In the thickets roundabout were to be seen the tracks of wild pigs, and the woods were alive with monkeys which feed on acorns.
At about 1 p.m. we reached the top of the range, some 6000 feet above the level of the sea. Crossing a number of brooks which empty into the Rishi, we came to some cowsheds, where I would have liked to have rested; but no rest was possible, for I could see the leeches[7] spanning their length with swift but measured paces, making for me with haste.
At 4 p.m. we commenced our descent from the top of the ridge, which is marked by a lartsé[8]—here a bush of dwarf bamboos, with scraps of red cloth tied to it, near which Phurchung uttered his lha sol,[9] or invocation to the mountain deities. We halted for the night in a little clearing in the jungle at the foot of a gigantic oak, a few miles above the village of Lingcham. The giant nettle creeper here attains its largest growth, some more than 100 feet long. The tree nettle also abounds in this forest, and our servants found also the common nettle, the tender leaves of which make excellent soup.[10]
November 11.—The sky was overcast, and there was rain and sunshine at the same time, a phenomenon the Bhutias call metog-charpa, or “flowery shower.” The village of Hi, by which we passed, contains several Bhutia, Lepcha, and Limbu houses.[11] The latter [[6]]people seem to be prosperous; they cultivate rice on irrigated terraces, and use a plough drawn by buffaloes. A few hundred yards above the River Kalai (also called Kalhait) we saw cardamom patches carefully fenced. The Kalai river, which we found rapid at even this season of the year, rises in the Singli pass, and after a circuitous course of about 20 miles, empties into the great Rungit near the foot of Tashiding hill. Villages are numerous along the river for many miles; they are situated on ridges, which look like lateral ribs of a range running on either side of the Kalai from west to east, generally sending out southerly spurs.
The Kalai is overhung on both sides by lofty trees growing on steep banks apparently inaccessible when looked at from the river bank. The river is bridged by two long, stout bamboos resting on a huge boulder in the middle of the stream, and weighted down with slabs of stone.
In the shallow part of the stream piles have been driven to hold bamboo nets for capturing fish. This torrent is well known for its delicious fish; and we saw growing by some of the Limbu houses the na-dag-shig,[12] a tree, the leaves of which are used to poison fish which swarm in the stagnant pools in the river.
There are five classes of priests among the Limbu people, who perform their religious and secular ceremonies. They are called Phedangba, Bijua, Dami, Baidang, and Srijanga.[13]
The Phedangba enjoy the privilege of conducting the religious ceremonies, and of dealing in omens and fortune-telling. The Bijua are trained to the Shamanic worship, of which fantastic dances are the characteristic feature. The third order practice witchcraft exclusively, and are said to be able to expel evil spirits through the [[7]]mouth. The fourth class, called Baidang, are physicians, the name Baidang being undoubtedly derived from the Sanskrit Baidya. The fifth, which is the most important of the five orders, has the exclusive privilege of interpreting the religious books, and of studying religious observances and rites. My informant, though a Srijanga, combined in his person the qualifications of the other four orders; hence his great reputation among the Limbus, who considered him endowed with divine attributes.
Leaving the banks of the Kalai, we pushed on uphill through long grass and reed thickets, where wild pigs were numerous and the porcupine abounds.[14] The latter animal is said to do much harm to pulse and radish fields, and destroys a great many of the wild yams on which the people chiefly subsist. On ascending about 3000 feet above the Kalai valley, we enjoyed distant views of Pema-yangtse, Yantang, Hi, Sakyang, and other villages on the high flat ridges on either side of the Kalai and Ratong rivers, and on our right was the village of Lingcham with its orange groves and numerous murwa fields. We halted near a Limbu house, and the coolies plucked wild onions (lagog)[15] growing in the crevices of the rocks, with which they seasoned their curries. This lagog, though smelling like the common garlic, is not half so strong, and gives a peculiar flavour to meat. It is said to produce coughing.
November 12.—We continued to ascend by a hardly discernible trail, passing patches of Indian corn and a few miserable Limbu houses: one woman we saw was carrying a basketful of wild apricots. At 2 p.m. we reached the top of the ridge, on the furthest extremity of which to our right was the Sangnag Choiling (pronounced Changachelling) monastery, while near the path we were following was an old moss-covered chorten.