MOUNTAIN AND VALLEY ON THE ROAD TO MULI
A QUARREL
The next day, 1st May, we left our quarters at Hu Dra just as the sun rose, on a beautiful fresh morning that reminded one almost too vividly of early summer in England. Even the cuckoo was not wanting. The road led us at first in a south-easterly direction high above the left bank of the Dja Ch'u for about 3 miles, then turned with that river into a valley running south-west. A mile or so beyond the bend I observed a village on the right bank, but we kept to the left, still high above the river. Nearly opposite that village we came to a couple of tumbledown huts. While we were resting here, two of my soldiers took the opportunity to disgrace May Day by indulging in a violent quarrel. For the sake of cacophony I had previously given one of these men the unmelodious name of Bloggins, owing to the singular irregularity of his features. Certainly no one could have mistaken him for a reincarnation of Plato's Charmides. To the other, for a different reason, I had given the surname of Hoggins. Before I could learn the cause of the dispute and settle it by friendly arbitration, Hoggins drew his sword and began laying it about him in a manner suggestive of slaughter and blood. The effects were not serious, as the blade of the sword, not being intended for actual warfare, broke off at the hilt. Bloggins took shelter behind a mule. The quarrel arose and subsided like a thunderstorm, for in half an hour the combatants were again on the most amiable terms with each other and drowning the memory of their disagreement in a bowl of tea.
From the scene of this bloodless combat the road continued to lead us high above the left bank of the river-valley, giving us occasional glimpses of the many windings of the stream. One has to ride with caution, as the path frequently lies along the edge of a precipice. The surface is sometimes very rough and rocky, and the road undulates a great deal as it has to cross a number of deep ravines. After riding about 65 li from our starting-place we reached the neighbourhood of an important lamasery, named Wa-chin Gompa,[223] well hidden in a wooded dell. The lamas objected to receiving us here, so we went on to a scattered hamlet called Ta K'oa. The Dja Ch'u here changes its name to the Ya-Rong Ch'u.
WILD-FLOWERS
A great authority has told us that among the losses brought upon us by the fury and vulgarity of modern life, one of the saddest is the loss of a wish to gather a flower in travelling.[224] Perhaps it was because I was so far from the beaten tracks of civilisation that on that beautiful May morning the wish to gather flowers still asserted in me its vigorous vitality. The wild-flowers during that day's journey were indeed so numerous and beautiful that all the members of my party yielded to the temptation of decking themselves out in blossoms pink and white and blue. The dainty freshness of our summer garlands only served, I fear, to throw into stronger relief the dirt and dust of our travel-stained garments. Though there were three flower-bedecked women among my party, I was moved by no impulse to crown any one of the three as our Queen of May. It would be ungallant to give the reasons. But if none of them was conspicuous for beauty of figure or feature, I think it only fair to call to grateful remembrance the fact that one was the possessor of an alluring smile and a not unattractive dimple.
On 2nd May a pretty road lined with "English" hedgerows bursting into bloom, led us after a ride of 4 miles to a point from which we obtained a fine view of the river—a long stretch of smooth water shining in the sun, a rather violent rapid, and a series of graceful curves. From the village of Dje Ru we descended for the first time to the river-bank and crossed the stream—now called the Tong Yi—by a substantial wooden bridge about 50 yards long. I have already referred to the variety of names possessed by the rivers of this region. The stream which we knew first on 30th April as the Dja Ch'u had changed its name at least seven times before we finally left its banks three days later; but as in the case of many other Tibetan rivers, the different names often represent merely the tribal names of the various village communities that dwell on its banks, or even the names of the valleys through which it flows. In the interests of geography it would no doubt be more satisfactory if every river were given one name only, by which it could be universally known throughout the whole length of its course; but the convenience of so doing would hardly appeal to people who never saw a map, and never travel, and know nothing of their rivers except the short stretches that flow by their doors. I did not meet a single inhabitant of the Yalung watershed who was able to tell me whence any of their rivers came, or whither it went. Such questions seemed to them merely frivolous, the answers being regarded as beyond the range of possible human knowledge.
VALLEY OF LITANG RIVER
About a mile beyond the wooden bridge the river becomes the Wo Pu Tsong, and later on the Mi Ch'u. Not far beyond, a fairly large tributary—the Ba Tsam Ch'u—enters by a valley in the east, and joins the main stream at a point where, after flowing for some miles due south, it turns sharply to the south-west. Our path, following the right bank of the river, now turned into a narrow valley through which we travelled for the rest of the stage, and from which we did not emerge till the middle of the following day. This valley possesses, perhaps, the most beautiful riverine scenery met with anywhere throughout my journey, though it is not on the same grand scale as the scenery of the Yangtse gorges or the valley of the Ta Tu. After travelling along an undulating road for about 5 miles, we came to a place which possesses the abrupt name of Wu, where—on the flat roof of one of the two huts forming the hamlet—we had our midday meal. Just before reaching this spot we passed a place where two landslips, one on each side of the river, had very recently taken place. Part of the subsiding banks having fallen into the water, a violent rapid had been formed across the river.