When viewed from the plains of India, at a distance sufficient to enable the spectator to see the most elevated part of the chain, the Himalaya appear to form several distinct parallel ranges on the horizon, rising in succession one behind another. The most distant of these is covered with perpetual snow, while the other two, usually called the middle and outer ranges, have the usual blue-grey tint of distant mountains. From very great distances in the plains, the most remote of these three apparent ranges is alone visible; and as the traveller advances towards the base of the mountains, the others rise in succession above the horizon.
The optical deception, in consequence of which, masses of mountains of every configuration resolve themselves into ranges perpendicular to the line of sight, as soon as the eye is so far removed that the outline of the different parts becomes indistinct, has given to our maps many mountain-chains, which a nearer inspection proves to have no existence. As a good instance of this, I may mention the Suliman range, west of the Indus, which, though laid down in all our maps as a mountain belt, parallel to and skirting the plain country, behind which no mountains at all are represented, evidently consists of a series of ranges, almost perpendicular to the Indus, and separated from one another by considerable rivers. The sources of these rivers lie far back, and the north and south axis from which they spring, separates all the tributaries of the Indus from a succession of streams, which run in a south-westerly direction, and appear to terminate, without reaching the sea, in the low and flat country of Seistan and western Beluchistan.
At distances of between sixty and thirty miles from the base of the Himalaya, the three parallel chains are well seen. On a nearer approach, the lower and outer mountains by degrees become more distinct, and subtend a greater angle, so as at last to conceal the more distant portions of the chain. At the same time, the uniformity of outline by which they had been characterized, insensibly disappears. Ridges become visible in the face presented to the eye, which, as the traveller continues to advance, become developed into projecting spurs, separated from the general mass by wide valleys, previously quite undistinguishable. On a still nearer approach, the elevation continuing to increase, the extent of range embraced by the eye is gradually lessened, till at last, when we arrive at the base of the mountains, a single valley with its bounding ranges of low hills is alone visible, the giant masses, so conspicuous from a greater distance, being no longer to be seen.
The low sandy or sandstone hills, which form the outskirts of the Himalaya, are not, on the road from Firozpur to Simla, anywhere of greater elevation than a few hundred feet. A few miles beyond the entrance, the valley, which has a considerable slope, widens as it approaches the more lofty mountains, and the sandstone cliffs are replaced by rounded hills, probably of a more ancient rock, covered with soil and vegetation.
KALKA.
May, 1847.
At the very base of the steep mountains is situated the village of Kalka, at which, as it is the termination of palankin travelling, travellers in general stop, to arrange for the continuance of their journey. Situated close to the source of the little stream which I had been following since I had entered the hilly country, and surrounded on all sides by low hills, Kalka has an elevation of perhaps 2000 feet above the level of the sea, or 1000 feet above the plain on the outside of the sandstone hills.
The general aspect of the low hills around Kalka is barren and uninviting; it was especially so at the season of my visit, when the great heat had scorched the herbaceous vegetation, and all nature had a burnt-up appearance. The subtropical valleys are not here, as farther to the east along the base of the mountains, filled with dense forest. They are in general bare, a few scattered trees only appearing here and there. In the level part of the valley, at the very entrance, where the soil was still of some depth, Acacia Arabica and Butea frondosa, the most prevailing trees of the plains beyond, were frequent; but the stony water-courses contained little but a bamboo, and the hill-sides were covered with scattered bushes of the more ordinary shrubs of the plains of Northern India, and presented few features of interest.
ASCENT TO KUSSOWLEE.
May, 1847.
Immediately on leaving Kalka, a long and steep ascent commenced, continuing for about ten miles, to the military post of Kussowlee, which occupies the crest of the ridge overlooking the Kalka valley, and can be seen throughout the greater part of the ascent, overhanging the winding road, which has been constructed along the side of the mountain. The elevation of Kussowlee is about 6500 feet, an altitude at which the climate in the Himalaya is perfectly temperate, so that during the ascent a traveller from the plains of India meets with a complete change of climate, a change, too, which in the month of May, the period of my visit, is particularly grateful, the heat below being most oppressive and disagreeable.
As the elevation increases, the view from the road becomes more extensive. The low ranges of hills to the south and west, which had obstructed the view, are by degrees overtopped, and the plains beyond become visible. Soon after leaving Kalka the road crosses a low ridge, and enters a receding bay, or steeply sloping valley beyond, at the upper extremity of which, all along the crest, are seen the houses of Kussowlee. Winding round this valley, and continuing to rise, the stream in its centre is crossed about midway, and the ascent continues on the spur which forms its western boundary. This ridge is crossed close to the point where it is given off by the main range, and the road, winding round its most projecting part, enters a fir-wood, and, turning back very abruptly in an opposite direction, proceeds eastward along the northern face of the Kussowlee range.