The elevated country surrounding the sources of the Parang and Hanle rivers, and those of the more eastern branches of the Zanskar, as well as that encircling Lake Chumoreri, constitutes as near an approach to what Humboldt has denominated a knot (nœud) of mountains, as any part of the Himalaya which I have visited; not that I conceive there is any reason to suppose that we have in this part of the chain an intersection of two mountain masses of different ages, to which cause the distinguished geographer is disposed to assign those aggregations of mountains which he has so designated. There is, however, as indicated by the origin of so many considerable streams in a confined area, an extensive tract of highly elevated land, in which the valleys have a very gentle slope, while the surrounding mountains are not much elevated above them. The whole tract is nevertheless eminently mountainous, if contrasted, not with the still more rugged districts by which it is on every side surrounded, but with the hilly districts of less alpine countries.
In the elevated district which we had been traversing since crossing the Parang pass, there is little or no cultivation, a field or two at Hanle and at the monastery on the banks of Lake Chumoreri (as I am informed by Major Cunningham) being the only exceptions. The district, however, is much frequented by a nomade population of shepherds, who, living in tents, move about with their flocks as the abundance of food or their own caprice may lead them. Clusters of black tents were now and then seen by us at intervals, especially in Rupchu, by which name the districts round the salt lake are known to the wandering inhabitants.
During the whole of the 25th of September, a furious north wind had continued to blow, accompanied by a cloudy sky, and all the indications of extremely unsettled weather, such as had been met with in the neighbourhood of Hanle only a week before. It was evident that, as winter approached, these periods of disturbance recurred more and more frequently. This time the fury of the blast increased as the day advanced, and after dark the cold in our tents was very severe. About 10 P.M. it began to snow slightly, and at daybreak on the 26th the ground was covered with snow to a depth of between two and three inches. As we had a prospect of arriving in milder regions by diminishing our elevation during the day, we hastened our departure as much as possible. A mile and a half of level ground brought us directly under the pass, the ascent to which was at last very steep. The road was very stony and rugged, but everything being covered with snow a good deal deeper than on the open plain on which we had encamped, we did not linger at the summit. The wind still blew strongly from the north, driving in our faces the still falling snow, and opposing our progress towards the crest, which was very rocky, being composed of a mass of hard stratified quartz. The elevation of the summit was about 17,500 feet.
TUNGLUNG PASS.
September, 1847.
The descent from the pass was very rapid. After a few paces, we were in a narrow and steep ravine, in which we continued to descend very abruptly, without obtaining any view of the surrounding country. Three miles from the summit, at perhaps 2000 feet lower level, snow ceased to lie on the ground, but it continued to fall lightly till the afternoon. Large rounded tufts of an Alsinaceous plant were common on the upper part of the descent, conspicuous under the snow. Lower down, the remains of species of Corydalis and Saussurea were discoverable in crevices of the rocks, the only remains of the alpine vegetation. The rock on both sides was clay-slate.
Continuing to descend rapidly, the ravine widened a little, and became filled with a most extensive development of alluvial conglomerate, forming thick masses, worn into pinnacles and fantastic shapes, like the similar deposits above Sungnam in Kunawar. This was particularly conspicuous where a lateral valley joined that along which we descended, a flat-topped promontory of alluvium there projecting far beyond the primitive rocks.
GIAH.
September, 1847.
After a descent of about 4000 feet of perpendicular height, we arrived at Giah, elevated 13,400 feet above the sea, not a little glad to be among houses, in a more temperate region than it had been for some time our lot to travel in. We took up our quarters in the upper room of a two-storied house, which had been prepared for our reception, and willingly agreed to halt a day in order to give time for arrangements, for a change of porters, and a rest to our servants and guides. Giah will be recollected, by those acquainted with Moorcroft's travels, as the place where he entered the Tibetan country, and where he was for some time kept in considerable uncertainty as to the nature of the reception he would meet with. Since that time the supremacy of the Sikhs has entirely changed the state of the country; and though the king (Gylpo) of Giah still exists, he does not even exercise a nominal sovereignty, but lives a pensioner on the Sikh government, without power and with a very limited income.
The influence of the Sikhs has, however, produced little change in the character of the people, as their occupation of the country, except in Le itself, and at one or two military posts, is entirely nominal, and only maintained by the moral influence of their known superiority in resources and military skill. The gumpa, or monastery, as in Moorcroft's time, crowns a rocky hill on the right bank of the Giah stream, while the town, or more properly village, on the left bank, is built on the steep alluvial banks high above the stream. There was a considerable extent of cultivation round the village, barley and peas being the chief crops; both had been cut, but were still lying in small heaps in the fields. Notwithstanding the great elevation, a number of poplar-trees, of the large cordate-leaved species (which seems identical with P. balsamifera), occur in the village, several of which attain a considerable size.
GIAH RAVINE.
September, 1847.