Next day I continued to descend the ravine. The hills were now considerably higher and more rugged than in the upper part, and were faced by cliffs of a clayey conglomerate, partly soft, but often indurated. A rapidly decaying yellowish slate, in highly inclined strata, was seen occasionally in the bed of the river. The stream was, as usual, fringed by willow and Lonicera; and a species of poplar, forming a small tree, occurred frequently. There was scarcely a single vestige of vegetation on the mountain-sides. After descending about two miles, I reached a large ravine, the slope of which was much more gradual. The banks were still composed of clay conglomerate, which rose in lofty precipices on both sides; after about three miles, however, this disappeared, and the ravine became very narrow and rocky. The road was now very rugged, ascending high on the mountain-side, and then descending to cross the stream. The limestone cliffs, which here approached within ten or twelve feet of one another, were marked with horizontal undulating grooves, perhaps indicative of the former existence of a glacier in this spot. As I advanced, after crossing to the right bank of the stream, the road became still more rocky and difficult, till at last the ravine in front became quite impracticable. I now turned suddenly to the right, and entered a narrow passage with perpendicular walls of rock, down which ran a very small streamlet. In this dark shady dell, which was so narrow that the light of the sun could not possibly reach the bottom, there were several large patches of snow. The ascent was at first rapid, but after a mile and a half the slope became more gradual and the ravine considerably wider. The usual shrubs then appeared on the water's edge, close to which I encamped, after a march of perhaps nine miles, at about 13,600 feet, very nearly the same elevation as the place from which I had started in the morning, and in an equally desert situation. The whole march was exceedingly barren, and without any cultivation or village. A few small bushes of juniper (J. excelsa) were met with about half-way, for the first time during my present journey.
TAKTI PASS.
June, 1848.
On the 1st of July, I continued the ascent of the ravine, which was still extremely barren and stony, except in the immediate vicinity of the stream, where the usual vegetation of willow and Lonicera continued plentiful. A few birch-trees were seen on the road-side. After following the ravine for nearly two miles, I reached a point at which it divided into two branches. The luggage porters took that to the right, which was said to be easier, but longer, while my guide led me to the left, up a steep ravine, which, after a few hundred yards, contracted to a mere fissure three to six feet in width, with very lofty rocky walls, and full of loose shingle. In several places, large masses of hard smooth ice had to be passed, which, from the steepness of the slope, proved no easy task, and would certainly have been almost an impossibility for loaded men. After passing through this fissure, which, as usual, opened out in its upper part, the road turned to the left up a long steep shingly hill-side, to the top of the ridge, which was rounded. While in the ravine I saw no plants; but on the shingly ascent a number of alpine species made their appearance. One of the first was an Anemone, but by far the most abundant was a yellow species of Thermopsis, which was in full flower, and seemed to thrive best among loose stones. A small Veronica, with bright blue flowers, occurred several times on the ascent.
The pass over this ridge is called Takti La. Its elevation was, according to my observation of the boiling-point of water, 16,360 feet. The mountains to the right and left, rising perhaps 1500 feet higher than the pass, obstructed all view. Behind, the landscape was shut in by a lofty snowy mountain, not a mile off; and in front, part of the same snowy range which I had observed from the ridge two days before, was visible. There was a good deal of vegetation at the top, which was in part swampy round a small spring, where probably the snow had only recently melted. The plants were all alpine: Biebersteinia odora, a well-known North Asiatic form, was very common, with several Ranunculaceæ and Cruciferæ, and one or two species of Polygonum.
NIRA.
July, 1848.
On the steep shingly ascent which faced the south, I had met with no snow till close to the top, when I saw a few very small patches. On leaving the top of the pass, the road continued to run along the side of the mountain on the left hand, nearly level for about a mile. As I got more fully on the north face, I found snow lying in large patches, which were melting rapidly; and when fairly on the northern slope, I found that, though very steep, it was covered by a continuous bed of snow from the very crest down to about 15,500 feet, as near as I could guess. The view to the north, which, from the pass itself, had been very limited, was now extensive. The range in front was everywhere tipped with snow, and the road up to its crest, with the pass by which I was to cross it, were distinctly visible. Between this range and that on which I stood was interposed the deep ravine of the Zanskar river, the course of which could be traced for a long way, though from the precipitous rocks through which it ran, the stream itself could not be seen.
I find it extremely difficult to describe in an adequate manner the extreme desolation of the most barren parts of Tibet, where no luxuriant forest or bright green herbage softens the nakedness of the mountains, but everywhere the same precipices, heaps of rocks, and barren monotonous deserts meet the eye. The prospect now before me was certainly most wonderful. I had nowhere before seen a country so utterly waste. At the great elevation on which I stood I completely overlooked the valley, and the two or three villages which I afterwards found to exist were either seen as mere spots, or concealed by ranges of hills. Directly in front, across the Zanskar river, a rocky precipice, worn and furrowed in every direction, and broken into sharp pinnacles, rose to the height of at least 2000 feet, overhanging a deep ravine, while to the right and left mountain was heaped upon mountain in inextricable confusion, large patches of snow crowning the highest parts.
From the edge of the snow I descended rapidly to the village of Nira. On the earlier part of the descent, the ground was soft and miry from the recent melting of the snow, which still lay in the more shady parts in large patches. A bright yellow Ranunculus, with numerous petals, and the pretty Lloydia serotina were plentiful close to the snow. Further down, the road was extremely stony, and the descent very abrupt, but towards the end I followed the course of a small streamlet, the margins of which were skirted by a belt not more than a foot in width of vividly green turf. The village of Nira, in which I encamped, was 12,900 feet above the level of the sea: its cultivated lands were extensive, and both in the village and on the hills around, juniper-trees of considerable size were common.
CROSS ZANSKAR RIVER.
July, 1848.
YULCHUNG.
July, 1848.