Read Ebook: Western Himalaya and Tibet A Narrative of a Journey Through the Mountains of Northern India During the Years 1847-8 by Thomson Thomas

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After about five miles of what, in the Himalaya, may be called tolerably level road, another sudden ascent follows, the road inclining rather to the northern slope of the mountain, and entering a dense forest of large massive pines, intermixed with two species of sycamore, and a fine cherry, which relieve the otherwise too gloomy foliage of the coniferous trees. A magnificent climbing vine, which attaches itself to the tallest trees, rising in light green coils round their trunks, and falling in graceful festoons from the branches high over head, adds much to the elegance of the scene, and renders it, in the expressive words of Griffith, who was familiar with the rich vegetation of the humid forests of the Eastern Himalaya, the only true Himalayan forest of the western mountains.

On reaching the summit of the steep ascent, the road again gains the crest of the ridge, which consists of a succession of rounded knolls, covered with grass, and quite bare of trees, the forest rising almost, but not quite, to the top. On the very summit of one of the first of these knolls, is a small wooden shrine or temple, of a form common in the hills; the top of a mountain, or the summit of any very steep ascent, being usually selected as a proper spot for the erection of a sacred building by Indian mountaineers, in whose superstition every hill and grove is tenanted by supernatural beings.

The descent from the top of Mahasu to the Fagu bungalow, is at first abrupt, the road leaving the ridge to enter the forest on the northern face, and winding down, after a few hundred yards of bare stony slope, among dense forest, among which it continues for a couple of miles, rising at last rather steeply to the crest of the ridge at the point where it resumes a northerly direction. Here the bungalow of Fagu has been built, at an elevation of 8200 feet, at the very base of the steep mountain ridge behind, which rises abruptly, to a height of six or seven hundred feet. The bungalow faces the north-east, and commands a most superb view of the snowy range beyond the Sutlej, with occasional glimpses of the Jumno-Gangetic snows on the right hand.

On my arrival at Fagu, in the midst of a pelting fall of rain, I found the bungalow already occupied by my fellow-travellers, and before a bright and comfortable fire I soon forgot the discomfort of my wet ride, which indeed was not to be complained of, as it was only what might fairly have been expected in the middle of the rainy season. The confusion among our baggage, however, was so great, from its arriving irregularly and being set down hurriedly by the drenched porters, anxious to escape as soon as possible to shelter, that it was not without difficulty I procured the necessary change of clothing.

The morning of the 3rd of August was densely foggy, but without rain, and it was unanimously decided that it would be advisable to push on to the next stage, Mattiana, a distance of fifteen miles. Our anticipations of fair weather were unfortunately disappointed, for it began to rain heavily before ten o'clock, and continued to do so with little intermission till nearly two, when it cleared, and the remainder of the day was fine.

At Theog, nearly eight miles from Fagu, there is a fort belonging to a Rana, or hill chieftain, and a small village, with a good many fields. The cultivation at this great elevation, for the fields reach to at least 8000 feet, is principally of barley, which is sown in early spring, and reaped in the beginning or middle of June, according to the season. Beyond Theog the road rises a little, and is covered with brushwood on the left hand, but bare on the right. The highest part of the road is about two miles beyond Theog, and has an elevation of about 9000 feet. The northern face of this hill is prettily wooded with the holly-leaved oak, and covered with numerous large angular boulders, whose origin is rather difficult to explain. After passing this little hill the ridge sweeps round to the left in a semicircle, ascending very gradually and gently to a low ridge, from the crest of which the bungalow of Mattiana comes into sight, at a distance of nearly two miles, the whole of which is a gentle descent. The latter part of the road has a direction nearly due north, and the bungalow is situated in a very commanding position on the top of a little eminence, a quarter of a mile from the village, which occupies the slope of the hill facing the south-east, at a considerably lower level. The hills on both sides of the bungalow, which has an elevation of 8200 feet, are extremely steep, and descend at least 2000 feet. The valley on the left, tributary to the Sutlej, is well wooded, but that on the right is rather bare, with only a little wood here and there in the ravines, and on the more shady exposures.

The slopes below Mattiana are covered with numerous scattered houses and a good deal of cultivation. A little rice is grown during the rains, but the principal crops are barley and some wheat, sown in spring and reaped before the commencement of the rains. The opium poppy, also a spring crop, is cultivated to some extent in the lower part of the valley. It is sown in early spring, and the opium is gathered in June.

On the morning of the 4th of August we resumed our journey, proceeding as far as Nagkanda, about thirteen miles. Nagkanda, like Mattiana and Fagu, lies exactly on the crest of the main range, south of the Sutlej, and it is possible to proceed to it by a footpath along the ridge. The ascent, however, immediately north of Mattiana, where the ridge rises suddenly to nearly 10,000 feet, is so steep, rocky, and difficult, that it is quite impassable for horses, and so nearly for loaded men, that a more easy, though somewhat longer road is always preferred. I have more than once walked from Nagkanda to Mattiana by the upper road, and found it quite easy on foot, and so very beautiful as to be well worth a visit. The ascent from Mattiana is exceedingly steep, and facing nearly due south, very bare, stony, and barren; but when the higher portion of the ridge has been gained, the remainder of the road lies through beautiful forest, with much fine scenery--the earlier part steep and rocky, the remainder nearly level, till the last descent, and generally on the north face of the range.

Nagkanda bungalow, elevated 9300 feet above the level of the sea, is situated on a depression of the main range, where it has a direction from west to east. The ridge to the west, towards Mattiana, is elevated little more than 10,000 feet, while to the east rises the peak of Hattu to a height of 10,674 feet, by the determination of the trigonometrical survey. Here the range has approached nearer to the Sutlej, now distant only about twelve miles, than at any point since leaving Simla. The valley of the Sutlej being only 3000 feet above the level of the sea, while the mountains directly opposite rise to 12,000 feet, the scenery is of the grandest description. The river itself is nowhere visible, the descent being so abrupt at the bottom that the intervening spurs entirely conceal it.

On the 5th of August, a portion of our baggage, which had been left at Fagu two days before, from a deficiency of porters, not having arrived at Nagkanda, it became necessary to halt, in order to give it a chance of reaching us. The day was fortunately fine, and we availed ourselves of the opportunity to ascend Hattu, Captain Strachey taking with him his barometers, to verify their accuracy by the trigonometrically determined height of this mountain, which was one of the stations of the Himalayan survey by Captain Herbert. As the top of the mountain is only about 1500 feet above the Nagkanda bungalow, and the distance is nearly five miles, the ascent is an easy one. The first mile is nearly level, and bare of wood on the ridge, though the forest on both sides rises within a few feet of the crest, which is bordered by brushwood. As soon as the ascent commences, the ridge becomes covered with forest, at first principally pine, spruce and silver fir being the principal species. Yew is also very common, forming a fine tall tree, and the few non-coniferous trees are chiefly the alpine oak, sycamore, and cherry. The road, which at first ascends a western spur, by degrees winds round to the face of the mountain, and finally ascends to the summit from the east. The wood on the upper part is entirely oak, and more open than the pine forest lower down. The top of the mountain is steep and bare towards the east, for about five hundred feet, with precipitous rocks thirty or forty feet high towards the west, below which the slope is exceedingly steep and rocky in that direction.

The continuation of the main range towards the east is at first lower than the peak of Hattu some 600 or 700 feet, but rises again to another peak within a mile. A long spur or ridge to the south-west is, however, for nearly two miles, within a few feet of the same height as the summit of Hattu, and rises at about that distance into a point, which probably rather exceeds it. It then sinks rapidly towards the Giri river, the most easterly branch of which has its source in the ravine on the eastern face.

In every direction except south, and along the ridge to the east, the view from the top of Hattu is very extensive, as it overlooks all the peaks in the immediate vicinity. To the north the mountains of Kulu, which separate the valley of the Sutlej from that of the Beas, and from the upper Chenab, are most beautifully seen, their peaks rising above one another from west to east, till they enter the region of perpetual snow. Towards the plains, in clear weather, the view must be superb; but in that direction there is so generally a hazy state of the atmosphere, that though I have ascended Hattu four times, I have never been fortunate enough to obtain a favourable day.

In looking back from the summit of Hattu towards Simla and the plains, it may be observed that the country is well wooded, though when viewed from Simla or the heights of Mahasu the same mountains had appeared almost bare. This diversity in the aspect of the country, according to the direction from which it is seen, is due to the ridges being well wooded on one face, and bare of trees on the other. The plainward face is never, except under very exceptional circumstances, at all wooded, while the northern and eastern slopes are generally covered with forest. Probably the more direct influence of the sun, and the action of the strong winds which generally blow up the valleys towards the interior of the mountains, act in concurrence in drying the atmosphere, and checking the growth of trees on the southern and western faces of the ridges.

On the southern slopes of this ridge, at elevations equal to that of Nagkanda bungalow, and even higher, in some places as high as 9500 feet, there are considerable patches of cultivation. Barley is probably the spring crop, but during the rains a good deal of buckwheat is cultivated. This plant will not thrive in the very humid regions, and is therefore indicative of a drier climate than that of Simla; indeed, even the occurrence of cultivation at such an elevation, during the rainy season, satisfactorily proves the existence of a more moderate rain-fall and greater warmth than on the peaks nearer the plains, as for instance on the Mahasu ridge, on which, except the potato, no cultivation whatever is attempted during the rains, though there are a few fields of wheat or barley in one spot as high as 8000 feet.

The streams which the road here crosses descend from different parts of the ridge of Nagkanda. They occupy the bottom of deep ravines, and are in their whole course densely wooded. These ravines are, in their upper part especially, extremely steep and rocky, often with precipitous walls, and scarcely practicable even on foot. The denseness of the forest is principally due to their northern exposure, and to the consequent more equable temperature and greater humidity. They contain many trees not previously observed on the journey from Simla, though all of them, I believe even the horse-chesnut, occur in the very similar steep rocky ravines below Fagu. The alder is a common tree at 4-5000 feet in the north-western Himalaya, always in valleys and on the banks of streams.

Kotgarh, a large village, and the seat of an establishment of missionaries, was at one time a military post, and is interesting to the Himalayan traveller, from the fact of the detachment here stationed having been long commanded by one of the brothers Gerard, whose labours in these mountains, geographical and meteorological, are so well known. It has, however, long been abandoned as a military station, the peaceable state of the hill population rendering it unnecessary to keep a garrison in these mountains.

The district of Basehir is an independent hill state, governed by a rajah, whose dominion also extends over Kunawar; it commences a very little north of Kotgarh, and occupies the south side of the river Sutlej and the mountain slopes above it, as far east as the confines of Kunawar. The valley of the Sutlej, in the western part of Basehir, from Rampur downwards, has an elevation of little more than 3000 feet, Rampur being 3400 feet above the level of the sea. The river, at the season of our journey, which was the height of the rains, at which time it is at its largest, is an impetuous torrent, of great size, but very variable in breadth, foaming along over a stony bed, with generally very precipitous rocky banks, and filled with large boulders. During the rainy season it is extremely muddy, almost milky, and deposits in tranquil parts of its course a considerable amount of white mud. The valley is generally very narrow, with steep bare hills on either side, quite devoid of trees and covered only with a few scattered bushes and long coarse grass. In the bays or recesses on the mountain-sides, between the terminations of the rocky spurs which descend to the river, the valley is often filled with a hard conglomerate rock, the cement of which is calcareous, evidently of very recent origin. These patches of conglomerate are flat-topped, and often scarped towards the river, and are frequently 200 feet and more in thickness. They differ in degree of consolidation only from ordinary alluvial deposit, so that they appear to owe their preservation from the denuding effects of river action, to the calcareous matter, which has cemented the pebbles and sand into a solid rock.

The road follows throughout the course of the river, rising sometimes 200-300 feet, to pass over rocky spurs; at other times it lies on the surface of the boulder conglomerate, and more rarely close to the river. Here and there is a small village, with a few rice-fields, but the greater part of the valley is utterly sterile. Like the valleys of the outer Himalaya, that of the Sutlej here exhibits a curious mixture of the ordinary vegetation of the plains, with forms which point out the mountainous nature of the country. The whole flora is strongly characteristic of a dry soil and an arid climate. The mountain ranges to the west and south, no doubt, intercept a good deal of rain; and the lofty mountains, 10-12,000 feet in height, which, on the right and left, rise rapidly from the river, appropriate to themselves a great part of the moisture which reaches the valley. We may, therefore, in the absence of direct meteorological observations, infer, from the physical structure of the valley, and from the nature of its vegetation, that its climate is drier than that of the valleys at the base of the Himalaya.

The town of Rampur is a considerable place, on a small level tract of ground, about a hundred feet above the bed of the river Sutlej, which it overhangs. The houses are substantially built, in the form of a square, with an open space in the centre; they are mostly one-storied, and have steeply-sloping slated roofs. The town has a good deal of trade with Tibet, principally in shawl wool, and is the seat of a small manufacture of white soft shawl-cloths. The river is here crossed by a rope suspension-bridge, of a kind very common in the lower valleys, which has often been described. It consists of nine stout ropes, which are stretched from one side of the river to the other. The width of the Sutlej at the bridge, according to Captain Gerard, by whom it was measured, is 211 feet.

During our stay at Rampur, Major Cunningham directed my attention to the alteration of the level of the river at different periods of the day, from the variable amount of solar action on the snows by which it is fed. This effect he had noticed on his former visit to the mountains, and we had frequent opportunities of observing it during our journey. At Rampur the diurnal variation was not less than three or four feet, the maximum being, I believe, during the night or early in the morning. In the immediate vicinity of snow, the streams are highest in the afternoon, but as the distance increases the period of greatest height becomes by degrees later and later.

Except on our two first days' journey, we had been extremely fortunate in weather since leaving Simla. The day of the 8th was very cloudy and oppressive, and the 9th, on which we remained stationary at Rampur to make arrangements with the Rajah for our further progress through Basehir and Kunawar, was rainy throughout. The rain, however, was light, and did not prevent the Rajah from visiting us in the afternoon, impelled, I suppose, by a desire to see our apparatus and arrangements for travelling. We were lodged in an excellent upper-roomed house of his, overhanging the Sutlej, and not far from his own residence, which lies at the east end of the town, and externally is quite without beauty, presenting to view nothing but a mass of dead walls. The Rajah seldom remains during the hot season at Rampur, as he has a second residence at Serahan, twenty miles up the river, and 7000 feet above the level of the sea, in which he usually spends the summer, though during 1847, for some reason or other, he remained during the greater part of the year at Rampur.

On the morning of the 18th of August we resumed our journey. Our direction still lay up the valley of the Sutlej, and for the first three miles the road kept parallel to the river, ascending occasionally a few hundred feet to cross spurs, when the immediate margin of the Sutlej was too rocky and precipitous to allow of a passage. This was not unfrequently the case, and after a few miles the river-bank became so rugged and difficult, that the road left it, to ascend a long ridge, descending from the mountain range to the south. The early part of the road, from the many views of the river rushing over its rocky bed, often among immense boulders, and from the general boldness of the mountain scenery, was, though bare of forest, very striking. Frequently the road overhung the river, which ran through a narrow rocky ravine many hundred feet below. At other times, it lay over the surface of the flat platforms which occupied the valley, and in several places curious excavations were noticed on the rocky surface, as if the river had formerly flowed over higher levels. One of these ancient channels was so very remarkable, that it could not be overlooked. The rocky banks on either side were at least a hundred feet apart, and the large water-worn boulders, with occasional rugged pointed rocks which filled the bed, conveyed unmistakeably the conviction that we were walking over an ancient river-bed, though the elevation could not be less than 150 feet above the present level of the river.

Three miles from Rampur the road began to ascend a long spur in a south-east direction. After we had ascended a few hundred feet, the course of the river could be seen on the left among precipitous rocks, quite impracticable. The ascent was through a well-cultivated tract, the base of the hill and lower slopes being covered with fields of rice, still only a few inches high. The road ascended rapidly, through villages with numerous fruit-trees. At first, the vegetation continued the same as in the valley, and the hills were bare, except close to the village. Within a thousand feet of the base, the cultivation ceased, and the road entered a wood of scattered firs, mixed after a little with the common oak . At about 5000 feet the steep lateral spur joined the ridge, and the road turned to the eastward, and continued along the steep sides of the ridge, which overhang the valley of the river 2000 feet below. The Sutlej was well seen, running among bare rocky hills, the pine-wood being confined to the upper parts of the steep slopes.

Had we continued our course along this ridge, it would in time have conducted us to the crest of the main range south of the Sutlej, the same which we had left at Nagkanda to descend into the Sutlej valley. It would have been necessary for this purpose to ascend to a height of between 12,000 and 13,000 feet, and to proceed to a considerable distance south; our object, however, being to keep along the river as nearly as possible, it would not have suited our purpose to ascend so far, and the road only left the banks of the Sutlej on account of the difficult nature of the ground in the bottom of the valley. We found, therefore, after continuing a mile or two on the steep slope of the ridge, that the road again began to descend, not exactly towards the Sutlej, but to the bottom of the ravine or dell, by which the spur on which we had ascended was separated from that next in succession to it.

Gaora is situated, according to Captain Gerard, about 3000 feet above Rampur; but from the appearance of the vegetation, and a comparison with known heights on both hands, we estimated the elevation of our encampment to be not more than 5500 feet, so that probably Captain Gerard's observations refer to some more elevated point.

On resuming our journey on the morning of the 11th of August, we continued the ascent of the spur on which the village of Gaora is situated, which is well wooded with the ordinary trees of the temperate zone of the Himalaya. There were a few rice-fields on the hill-side on cleared places above 6000 feet, and some orange-trees in the villages at about the same elevation; from both of which facts, more sun-heat and less rain during summer may be inferred, than in similar elevations on the outer Himalaya, where neither rice nor oranges occur so high. A little way higher up, the forest changed its character, the holly-leaved oak, the deodar, and the spruce, being the common trees, among which the road continued for four or five miles, without much change of level, when the forest ceased, and the road, after continuing for a short time at about the same level, descended abruptly to the ravine of the Mangl?d river, a considerable stream, now swollen into a furious torrent, which rushed with impetuosity down its steep rocky bed. A great part of the descent was bare, over crumbling mica-slate rocks.

On the morning of the 12th of August we marched to Tranda, along the mountain-side, winding a little with its sinuations, and occasionally descending to cross the little streamlets which furrow its side, and separate the lateral ridges from one another. The road lay through beautiful forest, and as the day was fine we obtained at intervals a succession of superb views, of the deep and well-wooded valleys below, and the rugged mountains north of the Sutlej. The forest-trees were still the hoary and holly-leaved oak, with deodar and spruce, though in the more shady woods along the streams, the horse-chesnut, and a fine glaucous-leaved laurel, were common. The shrubby and herbaceous vegetation was in general character the same as in the denser woods of Simla, the new species being still quite exceptional.

It soon became necessary to descend, in order to gain a place on the next range in succession to the eastward, so as not to leave the river at too great a distance. Forest continued to the bottom of the descent, which showed no signs of tropical vegetation, and was therefore not to so low a level as those of previous days. The remainder of the day's journey consisted of a succession of ascents and descents, mostly long and fatiguing, with occasionally half a mile nearly level. Many of the steeper parts were very rocky and rugged, so difficult that artificial steps were required to make them practicable, and even with their aid a horse could scarcely pass. The greater part of the road lay through forest, and two considerable streams were crossed besides the one on the early part of the march. From the last of these a long and very laborious ascent led to the crest of the Tranda ridge, on the very top of which we halted for the night in a log hut, built for the accommodation of travellers, in the midst of a fine forest of deodar-trees.

The Tranda ridge has, till near its termination, an elevation of upwards of 8000 feet, and projects boldly forward towards the Sutlej, dipping at last extremely abruptly to the river. The Sutlej is here thrown to the north, in a sharp bend, and runs through a deep gloomy ravine. This ridge, therefore, more lofty and abrupt than any farther west, is considered as the commencement of Kunawar; and the valley to the eastward, as far as the Wangtu bridge, is generally called Lower Kunawar, to distinguish it from the upper and drier parts of that district. The rise of the bed of the river is so gradual, that the transition of climate takes place at first by almost insensible gradations; but as soon as the spurs retain a height of 8000 feet till close to the Sutlej, they exercise a powerful influence upon the climate, and the vegetation and physical aspect of the country change with great rapidity.

FOOTNOTES:

Journal of Agr. Hort. Soc. Calc. vol. iv.

Gerard's 'Koonawur,' Appendix, Table 3.

The night we spent at Tranda was stormy, with thunder and heavy showers of rain, but the morning of the 13th was bright and beautiful, enabling us to see from our elevated position on the ridge, a single snow-peak, far to the eastward, in Kunawar. At the commencement of the day's march, the road receded from the Sutlej into a deep mountain bay, densely wooded with deodar and pine . A few trees only of spruce and horse-chesnut occurred. After a mile, passing round a projecting spur, a fine view was obtained of the river Sutlej at the bottom of a deep ravine, and of the mountain range north of the river, now in several places covered with heavy snow. A little farther on, the road descended very abruptly along the face of rugged and precipitous rocks, to the valley of the Sildang river, a large stream which was crossed in two branches by two very indifferent wooden bridges. The Sildang valley, at the point where the road crosses it, has been stated by Gerard to be elevated 5800 feet above the level of the sea. It is a larger stream than any of those yet crossed since leaving Rampur, and its ravine is beautifully wooded. The ascent to the east was gentle, through woods of oak and pine, and after rising a few hundred feet, the road continued nearly level for some miles, with the Sutlej in sight below. A large village was passed on the latter part of the march, with many temples evidently of old date, and situated in a grove of very large deodar-trees, several of which were upwards of twenty feet in circumference. One large tree with a flattened trunk, as if formed by the union of two, measured, at five feet from the base, thirty-five and a-half feet round. This grove was evidently of great age, and probably consisted of old trees, at the time the village was founded, and the temples were built under its sacred shade.

After regaining the river, the road ran along its bank, or on low spurs not more than a few hundred feet above it, through a dry treeless tract, till about two miles from the end of the day's journey, when a long steep ascent led to Chegaon, a large village situated on a stream with steep rocky banks, the houses as usual being surrounded with fruit-trees. Here we encamped after a march of at least fourteen miles, at an elevation of 7000 feet above the level of the sea, or nearly 1800 feet above the valley of the Sutlej.

Beyond the crest of the ridge, from which the view into the Sutlej valley, and towards the mountains across the river, was superb, the road on the east slope again receded from the river, entering an oak-wood, through which it continued nearly level for more than a mile, but soon began to descend slightly towards the stream, which ran at the bottom of a deep ravine, down to which the road plunged abruptly, to ascend again as steeply on the other side; after which a steep ascent of upwards of a mile led to Miru, a large village in which we encamped, at an elevation of 8500 feet.

At this delightful elevation, in a climate where the periodical rains of the Himalaya are scarcely felt, embosomed in extensive orchards of luxuriant fruit-trees, and facing the south, so that it has the full benefit of the sun's rays to mature its grain-crops, Miru is one of the most delightful villages of Kunawar, being rivalled only by Rogi and Chini, beyond which the climate becomes too arid for beauty. The crops at Miru, both of grain and fruit, were most luxuriant, and the vine thrives to perfection. The principal vineyards, however, are lower down, at elevations of between 6000 and 7000 feet, at which level the sun has more power in autumn to ripen the grape.

The scenery around Miru is indescribably beautiful, as it almost overhangs the Sutlej 3000 feet below, while beyond the river the mountain-slopes are densely wooded, yet often rocky and with every variation of form. A single peak, still streaked with snow, but too steep for much to lie, rises almost due opposite; behind which the summits of the chain south of the Sutlej rise to an elevation of upwards of 18,000 feet.

At Miru we found that we had completely left the rainy region of the mountains, and henceforward the weather continued beautiful. The change had been very gradual. At Serahan we had heavy rain; a rainy night at Tranda was succeeded by a brilliant day, till the afternoon, when it rained smartly for an hour. The next day was again fine, and at Miru, though the afternoon was cloudy, and a heavy storm was visible among the mountains across the Sutlej, only a few drops of rain fell. The transition from a rainy to a dry climate had thus been apparently very sudden, four days having brought us from Serahan, where the periodical rains were falling heavily, to a place at which there were only light showers. This was in part, of course, accident. Fine weather may, perhaps, have set-in in the interval in all parts of the mountains. In very rainy seasons, when the rain-fall in the outer Himalaya is considerably above the mean, heavy showers extend into Kunawar, at least as far as Chini; and careful meteorological observations would probably show that the transition of climate is a very gradual one, the snowy mountains and the great spurs which run towards the Sutlej collecting and condensing, as they increase in elevation, more and more of the moisture which is brought by the south-east winds from the Bay of Bengal.

Jacquemont, in the valuable journal of his tour in India, which has been published by the French Government, has observed that the passage of the ridge between Chegaon and Miru may be considered as producing a marked change in the vegetation. This change, as we have seen during our journey up the Sutlej, had long been going on, though very gradually and almost insensibly. Several circumstances combine to make the transition appear at this point more sudden than a careful calculation of the number of new species will prove to be the case. It is the first wooded ridge on the north side of the Sutlej over which the road passes, and it rises higher than any other part of the route east of Nagkanda. A considerable effect is also produced by several new arboreous or shrubby species making their appearance, as well as by the fact that the new forms, which day by day have insensibly been increasing in number, have at last begun to form a prominent feature in the country.

I find among my notes a list of all the species of plants which came under my observation during the walk from Chegaon to Miru. Their number is rather above 150 species, of which number about 120 are common Simla plants. Of the remaining thirty, eleven were quite new to me, ten had occurred only the day before, and nine had been common for some days past. These numbers convey a very different idea of the amount of change from that produced at the time, but the latter must be admitted to be very fallacious, the eye of the botanist being so naturally attracted by novelty, to the utter disregard of what is common, that it is difficult to preserve the degree of attention requisite to observe properly.

From the top of the steep ascent, which must have exceeded 9000 feet in elevation, the road continued along the side of the hill, without much change of level. The slopes were nearly bare, a few trees of the deodar and Gerard's pine only occurring occasionally. The latter tree was more common, and larger than the day before. It is a compact small tree, with much-twisted ascending branches, and a mottled grey bark, quite smooth from the decortication of the outer layers. It bore abundance of large pendulous cones, the size of a small pine-apple, still quite green.

From the crest, the remainder of the road consists of a succession of short ascents and descents, along the face of a very rocky hill, till within a mile of Rogi, when it descends very abruptly down the side of a rugged ravine to that village, which, though elevated 9000 feet, lies low down on the mountain-side, and has the appearance of being in a hollow. At Rogi we found the grapes quite ripe, and extremely abundant, but all from vineyards at lower levels. The commonest grape is globular, and of a deep, nearly black colour; but many varieties are cultivated. The apricots were also ripe, and had been gathered from the trees. The flat tops of the houses were now covered with them, drying in the sun. They are split up the middle and dried, the stones being taken out. In this state they keep well, and form a considerable article of export to India. Peach and walnut trees are also common at Rogi, and I saw a few apple-trees. A species of willow, which, in shape of leaf and general appearance, closely resembles a common English willow , is commonly planted along with a glabrous poplar, a small, rather spreading tree, which is frequent throughout Tibet, and seems to be the balsam poplar of Siberia and North America. The English henbane abounds in waste places. This also is a common Tibetan plant, and extends into the drier valleys of the Himalaya, such as Kunawar and Kashmir, but not into the outer mountains, where the periodical rains are heavy.

On the 17th of August we proceeded to Pangi, nine miles farther, passing on the road the village of Chini, the largest inhabited place and most fertile tract of Kunawar, of which it may therefore be considered the capital. From Rogi we had to make a considerable ascent to regain the road, that village lying lower than the direct route from Miru. The ascent lay first through the cultivated lands of the village, and afterwards through open wood. After regaining the road, the ascent continued through a gloomy forest of large deodar-trees for about a mile, terminating at about 10,000 feet of elevation, at which height, turning round a corner on the crest of the ridge, we found ourselves on the upper part of a precipitous cliff, which descends sheer down to the Sutlej. Unfortunately the morning was very misty, a dense fog, condensed from the steadily blowing west wind, enveloping everything, till after ten o'clock, by which time we had long passed the precipitous part of the road. We were told, however, that the cliff was absolutely impracticable below, and, indeed, even where we passed, no little engineering skill was displayed, as the road led along the face of an absolute precipice, on ledges scarcely three feet broad, or just as often over wooden planking, supported at intervals by large upright pieces of timber, whose resting-places were invisible in the dense mist by which we were surrounded.

As soon as this rocky projection was passed, the road descended rapidly, but over good level ground for half a mile, through a forest of deodar, in which some of the trees were of large size, one of them measuring nineteen feet eight inches in circumference. At the bottom of this descent, after passing a projecting rocky ridge, the village of Chini came in sight, straggling along the side of a sloping hill. Chini occupies the most level, and therefore the most fertile, valley in Kunawar. The village is prettily situated among deodar-trees, while below, and on either side of it, the slopes are disposed in a succession of terraces, some of them of considerable extent, richly cultivated with wheat, barley, and buckwheat. Through this fertile tract, the road was quite level, winding among the stone enclosures of the fields, and often bordered on both sides by grassy pastures, or patches of beautiful green turf, where the little rills, which served to irrigate the fields, had overflowed their banks, and converted the flat land into swampy meadows. Near Chini, we passed a single vineyard of small extent, at an elevation of 7000 feet, the fruit still quite unripe, though for several days we had been plentifully supplied with ripe grapes from the lower vineyards. The vines are supported by erect poles, about four feet high, placed about three feet apart, and connected by horizontal ones laid across them, on which the vines twine.

From Chegaon to Pangi we had passed through the finest and most fertile part of Kunawar, which is, however, by no means confined to the north bank of the Sutlej; many large villages having been seen on the opposite side of the valley, with almost as much cultivation as those through which we had passed. The communication across the Sutlej is kept up by paths which lead through the lower cultivation and vineyards to the bank of the river, which is spanned in several places by rope-bridges, one of which only, we saw at a distance. During these three days' journey, the weather was most beautiful, and we could never sufficiently admire the ever-changing beauties of the scenery, which, probably, for variety and magnificence, is nowhere surpassed. The great peak of Raldang, a culminating point of the south Sutlej Himalaya, lies nearly opposite to Chini, and, from a great part of the Kunawar valley, is a prominent feature from almost every point of view. It forms a rugged rocky mass, and the ravines on its slopes are filled with large masses of snow, the lowest beds at this season of a dirty grey colour, and evidently still rapidly receding under the influence of the powerful autumn sun. No glaciers were anywhere in sight.

We were now about to enter upon a very troublesome part of our journey, the crossing of the various ridges which are given off by the mountain range north of the Sutlej, at the great bend of that river where it is joined by the almost equally large Piti river, from the north. These long ranges, given off by an axis 18,000 feet in height, slope at first gently towards these rivers, but at last dip extremely abruptly into the enormous ravine, at the bottom of which the Piti and Sutlej rivers run. Occasionally a rugged and difficult footpath may be found to lead among these precipices, by frequent steep ascents and descents, at no great distance above the river. These paths are always most laborious, and often very dangerous, and the usual road into the valley of the Piti river leads across the higher part of all these ridges, where they are no longer precipitous, but slope at a gentle inclination.

During the journey from Simla, I had been able to acquire very little information regarding the geology of the valley of the Sutlej; the quantity of forest, and the rapidity with which we travelled, being unfavourable to the determination of the nature of the rocks. In the earlier part of our journey argillaceous schist, often highly micaceous, predominated. In Kunawar, from Wangtu eastward, gneiss and mica-schist were almost the only rocks which I observed. These appeared to alternate again and again as we advanced, but I obtained no certainty regarding their relative position. Veins of granite occurred occasionally in the gneiss, especially at Wangtu, and probably, from the number of boulders, the axis of the range north of the Sutlej is composed of granite.

Behind Pangi is the Werang ridge, crossed by the pass of that name at a point where its height is 13,200 feet above the sea. This ridge, as will be seen by the map, separates the valley east of Pangi from that of Lipa, the next in succession to the eastward, through which a large tributary flows to join the Sutlej. From Pangi to Lipa, the distance, though considerable, is not too much for an active man to accomplish in one day. It would, however, have been a very long march, allowing of no delay on the way, or on the top of the pass. We therefore divided the distance into two days' journey, ascending on the 18th of August to the upper limit of tree vegetation on the west side of the ridge, and leaving the remainder of the ascent and the whole descent for the next day.

At daybreak we were on foot, preparing for the ascent. The morning was, as usual for some days past, thickly foggy, and a heavy dew had fallen during the night. At starting we ascended gently through a dry pine-wood, towards the face of the mountain ridge of which Pangi occupies the western slope. This ridge, like that above Rogi, on the previous day's journey, is very precipitous towards the Sutlej; and the road leads among rocks, and sometimes over planks of wood, ascending gradually as we advanced. After about a mile and a half, rounding the most projecting part of the ridge, we began to recede from the Sutlej on the eastern slope of the range, along the western side of a beautifully wooded open valley, at the bottom of which ran a large rapid stream, evidently descending from snow. Without descending at all, we continued to advance for a mile and a half through fine forest, till we nearly met the stream, which we crossed after a slight abrupt descent. Immediately after crossing, a steep fatiguing ascent of not less than three miles commenced, continuing, with scarcely any intermission, till we reached the spot selected for our encampment, inclining all the way in the direction of the course of the stream, and therefore towards the Sutlej; so that when we stopped, we almost overlooked that river, and had a fine view of the peak of Raldang, covered with a dazzling coat of fresh snow.

During the ascent, after crossing the ravine, the rock was throughout gneiss, passing sometimes into a curious dark slaty rock. It was often very fine-grained; and in one place a granite vein was observed, entirely without stratification, and about a foot thick. Throughout the ascent the surface was strewed with erratic blocks of granite, evidently transported from a distance.

The slope below our camp, for several hundred feet, was cultivated with barley, but the crops were indifferent. Lower down, the mountain-side was too steep to admit of tillage. There were no houses, the fields being the property of the inhabitants of a village a long way below, to the east of Pangi.

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