The view from the summit would have been magnificent had the day been more favourable; but a thick haze rested over the more distant parts of the valley of Kashmir, as well as over the southern mountains in the direction of the plains of India. The southern slope of the range on which I stood was bare, scarcely even a bush being visible; and the Banahal valley, nearly four thousand feet below, appeared as a perfectly level plain, covered with rice-fields and scattered villages, marked by groves of trees. On the descent I followed a very steep rocky ridge. About half-way down, the amygdaloid was replaced by metamorphic slate, and for the remainder of the descent the rocks were alternations of slate, very hard conglomerate, and quartz rock. The dip of these strata was very variable, and on the face of several spurs, at a little distance, sections were exposed, exhibiting enormous flexures. I saw no limestone on the southern face of the pass, except in the valley of Banahal, where there was a good deal of a horizontally stratified limestone, very different in appearance from that on the other side, which, as it was confined to the bottom of the valley, and was there very local, appeared to be of much more recent origin.
BANAHAL VALLEY.
May, 1848.
After joining the Banahal river, the descent became more gradual. At first, the valley was almost level and quite covered with rice-fields, all under water. The villagers were busy ploughing, both bullocks and men knee-deep in soft mud. Further on, the valley contracted, and cultivation only occurred at intervals. In the narrower parts, the stream was fringed with trees, but the hill-sides were still quite bare. Round the villages there were very fine trees, chiefly walnut, horse-chesnut, and elms, with the ordinary fruit-trees; but the plane and black poplar do not occur, nor are any vines cultivated in the valley. The winter is said to be quite as severe as in Kashmir; and the elevation, so far as I could determine it by the boiling-point of water, is a little greater, the lower villages (in one of which I encamped) being about 5500 feet, while the highest fields are about 6000 feet. In the woods, Fothergilla, cherry, sycamore, and horse-chesnut were common, just as in Kashmir. The season was much further advanced than on the north side of the pass, all these trees being fully in leaf, and the horse-chesnut in flower. The greater part of the vegetation was identical with that of Kashmir, but I saw many more species, probably only from the more advanced state of the season. The Zizyphus and rose (R. Webbiana) of Kashmir were still common, and the white poplar was wild along the banks of the stream. I did not, however, see Daphne or Myricaria. In shady lateral ravines an oak was frequent, the more interesting as I had seen none in Kashmir; it was Q. floribunda, a species of the middle zone of the outer Himalaya, which usually occurs at higher levels than Q. incana, and lower than Q. semecarpifolia.
Though the river of Banahal is a tributary of the Chenab, yet the district has always been considered as a dependency of Kashmir, from which it is only a short day's journey distant, while for several days in descending towards the Chenab, the country is almost uninhabited. Halting one day at Banahal to change my porters, I made three marches to Nasmon, on the right bank of the Chenab, following the course of the Banahal river during the first and part of the second march, but afterwards leaving it, on account of its increasing ruggedness, to cross the range on the left hand by a pass about 8000 feet above the sea, which overhangs the valley of the Chenab. The bounding spurs which hem in the Banahal valley descend almost perpendicularly upon the Chenab, and dip at last very abruptly to that river. At first, large masses of snow were visible at the sources of all the lateral valleys, but lower down the elevation was not sufficient, and the hills were bare. After leaving the last village of Banahal, the bottom of the valley was for some time level and covered with fine forest, consisting chiefly of magnificent trees of Celtis, elm, and alder; the others were two species of Acer, Fraxinus, Morus, Populus ciliata, and a willow. Fothergilla now grew to a small tree, and Marlea made its appearance, the first indication of an approach to a hot climate. Soon, the banks of the river became rocky, and left no passage, so that the road ascended on the right bank, and lay at a considerable elevation on the hill-sides, looking down upon a richly wooded and often rocky glen. The hills were steep and generally bare, but the ravines were often well wooded. Pinus excelsa occurred occasionally; Quercus floribunda was common, and Q. lanata made its appearance.
Before leaving the Banahal river, I had got down to about 4000 feet, meeting latterly with some familiar plants of the warmer zone: Pinus longifolia formed dry woods, Cedrela Toona, a fig, Albizzia mollis, and last of all, Dalbergia Sissoo. Still, most of the plants of the upper part of the valley accompanied me throughout; even the hoary oak had not disappeared, and the general appearance of the vegetation was very different from what it would have been at the same elevation further east, the plants of a hot climate being chiefly such as delight in a dry heat, and are capable of enduring a considerable amount of winter cold, provided the summer temperature be sufficiently elevated. It was evident that the temperature was considerably lower than it would have been at the same height in the Sutlej valley, and I drew the same inference with regard to the humidity, from the appearance of a number of dry-climate plants; for instance, a yellow spinous Astragalus, a Dianthus, and Eremurus, an Asphodeleous genus common in Kunawar, and other dry valleys of the Himalaya.
PASS ABOVE NASMON.
May, 1848.
In the ascent of the lateral ravine, towards the pass above Nasmon, I encountered, for the first time, Rhododendron arboreum and Andromeda ovalifolia, the two trees which, with the hoary oak, form the mass of the Simla woods. The forest was now very fine, as I was on the northern slope of the range. On the upper part of the ridge by which I ascended, there was a grove of fine deodar-trees, and in the bottom of the dell a shady wood of horse-chesnut and sycamore. I had now entered a zone in which the flora was quite similar to that of Simla; Fothergilla being the only tree I observed, which is not common in that district. And it was curious that it was on the northern and most shady, as well as most humid exposure, that this identity of flora became first remarkable, and that the same trees which at Simla form the forests of the drier slopes and more exposed situations, grew in this valley low down on the hill-sides, in the most sheltered spots.
VEGETATION.
May, 1848.
The ascent towards the ridge was latterly steep, with a good deal of silver fir and deodar. The trees rose to the very top of the northern slope, but, as usual, the summit was bare and grassy, though the tops of the trees were actually higher than the crest of the ridge, and obscured the view to the north. As the elevation was only 8000 feet, there was no peculiarity of vegetation, all the plants being those of the middle zone, except the silver fir, which descended to a lower level than it usually does in the Simla hills. There was some cultivation of wheat and barley within a very short distance of the summit, which overlooked the valley of the Chenab; and as the day was fortunately clear, there was a very fine view. The ravine through which the river flowed appeared everywhere rugged, more especially towards the plains, where a succession of steep rocky hills were seen, the nearest of which surrounded the mouth of the Banahal river. Across the Chenab, a high range, beautifully wooded, ran parallel to the river, rising into a snowy peak nearly opposite to me. This peak, which concealed all view of the plains beyond, lay on my road to Jamu, and was about 9000 feet in height.
BRIDGE OVER THE CHENAB.
May, 1848.