On the 28th, I continued along the valley, but in a more northerly direction than the day before. The lofty snowy range to the south-west was now finely seen, forming a semicircle of rocky peaks behind Padum. The road lay again over dry plains, partly stony, partly hard clay; even the banks of the river were dry and stony, without a vestige of turf. The only species worthy of note which occurred during the day, in addition to the plants common on these barren tracts, was Oxytropis chiliophylla: it was very scarce at the beginning of the march, but before I had reached half-way it had become so abundant that at a distance the ground appeared of a bright red colour, from the immense abundance of its flowers. Several villages were passed on the road, and two considerable streams, both of which had excavated deep ravines in the loose conglomerate of which the plateau was formed. On the latter part of the march, the mountains which formed the right side of the valley approached close to the river, leaving no passage along the bank, so that the road made a short steep ascent over loose shingly debris and rocky ground, and continued for more than a mile along the face of the ridge. After that distance, it descended to a grassy, saline, very swampy plain, close to the river. I encamped at the village of Zangla, which lies at the base of the mountains, on the upper part of a steep stony slope, extending down to the river.

The alluvial platforms during this day's journey were generally of great thickness. This was especially the case around Tongde, where the clay formation formed considerable hills; and on the latter part of the march, where the mountains advanced nearly to the stream. Here high banks of clay were accumulated on the ridges, and were frequently, as in many other parts of Tibet, worn into fantastic shapes by the melting of the snow. Near Zangla, too, detached masses were seen clinging to the sides of the mountains, at considerable heights, in positions which indicated great denudation.

THE ROAD LEAVES THE VALLEY OF ZANSKAR.
June, 1848.

The result of my inquiries at Padum had been, that the lower part of the course of the Zanskar river (which I had hoped I might be able to follow to its junction with the Indus) was so rocky and difficult as to be impracticable, and that at the present season, when the torrents were all swollen by the melting snow, the only practicable road to the Indus lay through the mountains, at a distance from the river. I was now approaching the point where the road entered the mountains, and could already see that the fine open valley through which I had been travelling was soon to have an end. At Zangla it had become sensibly narrower, and the mountains on both sides, still tipped with snow, were extremely rocky and rugged.

The earlier part of the march of the 29th of June was still parallel to the river, partly over table-land, at other times through a dense jungle of Hippophaë, which covered its low banks, as well as several islands in its channel. After about four miles, the road turned suddenly to the right, and, leaving the valley altogether, commenced a rapid ascent on the steep slope of the mountain. From the point at which the road turned off, the Zanskar valley ahead could be seen to narrow rapidly, by the closing-in of the mountains. A turn in its direction, at the distance of four or five miles, hid the further course of the river from view, but the steep scarped mountains, which seemed to rise almost perpendicularly from its bed, left no doubt of the difficult nature of the country through which it ran.

The first part of the ascent was very steep and bare. A prickly Statice, in dense round tufts, made its appearance after the first few hundred feet, accompanied by another very common Tibetan plant, which had not been met with in the open plain, a species of Cicer, described by Bentham as C. microphyllum, if indeed the Siberian C. Soongaricum be not the same species. This plant is remarkable, not only for a very viscid exudation, but also for its peculiar strong aromatic and pungent odour, which, except that it is very much more powerful, a good deal resembles that of its cultivated congener C. arietinum, the well-known gram of Upper India. It also recalls to mind the smell of the common black currant, which, however, is more aromatic and less pungent and acidulous. On the lower part of the ascent the prevailing rock was limestone, of a dark bluish-grey colour, extremely hard, containing many white veins and crystals of calcareous spar; it closely resembled the limestone of the Hangarang pass, and, like it, alternated with hornstone and cherty quartz rock, and with finely laminated slates.

MOUNTAINS ON RIGHT BANK OF ZANSKAR RIVER.
June, 1848.

On leaving the bare slope, the road entered a narrow ravine, and continued to ascend rapidly along the bank of the streamlet which trickled down it. The ravine was full of loose angular stones, and had on both sides high rocky precipices of limestone and slate. Close to the little rivulet, a willow, a Lonicera, and a rose grew in great plenty among the loose stones, forming a dense bushy mass of green, six or eight feet high, which contrasted strongly with the barrenness of the shingle remote from the water, and of the rocky walls on either side. The ascent was rapid, and ere long, as the elevation increased, the shrubby vegetation disappeared, and the only plants which grew among the loose fragments of slate were a few small alpine species: Anemone, Corydalis, Thermopsis, and Androsace, were the genera to which these hardy plants belonged. In the crevices of the rocks, a large fleshy-leaved saxifrage, of the subgenus Bergenia, was common: it was a different species from either of the two hitherto described from India, as well as from S. crassifolia of Siberia, and was particularly interesting as a connecting link between these two floras. Further on, the ascent became more gentle; a few small patches of snow were passed, and soon after, the road ascended a very steep and shingly slope after the north side of the ravine, to the crest of a ridge, the elevation of which I estimated at about 15,500 feet.

The top of the ridge was rounded, and had more soil, and, as a consequence, more vegetation, than the stony dell below. Several plants of the valley reappeared, particularly Lithospermum Euchromon and a species of Cynoglossum, both of which seem to have a wide range in altitude. A few new species of Cruciferæ and Astragalus were obtained on the ridge. There was a very good and extensive view to the north, of mountain behind mountain, all bare and desolate; but in every other direction ridges close at hand intercepted the view. The most distant ridge had much snow on it, and appeared very elevated: I supposed it to be that between the Zanskar river and the Indus. After leaving the ridge, the road gradually descended towards the north, down a ravine full of fragments of slate: the hills on both sides were low and rounded. On the descent, Caragana versicolor, the Dama of the Tibetans, occurred very plentifully; it is, however, in general, much less common in the north-west parts of Tibet than further to the south, where it is very luxuriant. Following the course of the ravine, after a considerable distance, I observed bushes of willow and Lonicera to appear in the dry channel, and almost immediately afterwards a little water was found trickling down it, so that I was enabled to encamp, after rather a fatiguing march, at an elevation of about 13,700 feet.

NARROW RAVINE.
June, 1848.