TINGRI AND THE COUNTRY TO THE SOUTH

Tingri is a place of some importance, with a considerable trade at certain seasons of the year. It is the last place of any size on this side of the Nepalese frontier and boasts of a military governor. The garrison, however, when we visited it, consisted only of a sergeant and four or five soldiers. There were about three hundred houses in Tingri, all clustered together on the slopes of a small isolated hill standing in the middle of the great plain. On the top of the hill was the old Chinese fort, now all falling into ruin, but still littered with papers and books, written in Chinese characters, left behind by the Chinese on their hasty departure. Inside were quaint mural frescoes of curious old men riding stags or winged dragons painted in many colours. All the way up the valley of the Bhong-chu we had seen ruins of walls and evidences of much fighting. These all dated back, we were told, to the time of the Nepalese invasions of Tibet in the eighteenth century when the Gurkhas penetrated so far into Tibet that they actually got to Shigatse, and the Tibetans had to call upon the Chinese Empire for help. The Chinese came into the country with a large army, defeated the Gurkhas, drove them out of Tibet and crossed the Himalayas with a considerable army into Nepal, an extraordinary military feat considering the enormous difficulty of moving an army in these unhospitable regions over the high mountain passes through which it is approached. The Chinese, after this, never left Tibet until they were driven out by the Tibetans only a few years ago. In the hills round Tingri we came across many evidences of the fighting which then took place. This probably accounted for the large number of ruined and deserted villages that we saw in the valleys around. At the foot of the hill was a large Chinese rest-house which was only used to house Tibetan officials when they came there on duty. The Tibetans themselves did not like to live in or use the place, as many Chinese had died there and they thought that their ghosts haunted the spot. This rest-house was, however, swept out and prepared for our reception, as we had told the Tibetans that we should probably stay there for some time and should want a house to protect us from the wind and to provide a dark room for developing our photographs. The rest-house consisted of three courtyards in the outer one we put the coolies, in the middle one the surveyors, and the inner one we kept for ourselves. In appearance the building was quite picturesque with its mural paintings of flying dogs and fierce dragons; but in spite of its picturesqueness outside and its handsome appearance, the rooms inside were small, and when the rain came it poured through the roof and our beds had to be shifted many times during the night to avoid the drips of water. It however provided an excellent dark room for us after we had well plastered the walls, the floor and the ceiling with mud and got rid of the dust of ages. To do any photographic work in Tibet a house is a necessity, as with the violent wind that blows every day all one's belongings get covered with dust which would ruin any negative. At first we found water a great difficulty as the local water was full of mud, but we eventually discovered a beautifully clear spring, about half a mile away, which bubbled up in a deep bluey green basin, and this water we used always, both for drinking and for photographic work. Tingri had many advantages as a base. Stores, supplies and transport were always available there, as it was the headquarters of the district. It also provided an easy means of approach to Mount Everest from the North-west and to the high group of mountains that lay to the West of Mount Everest. After sorting out all our stores and equipment and seeing in what state they were after the journey, our next business was the making of a dark room, as we had taken many photographs on the journey that required developing. The weather at this time was very fine, but the Tibetans kept on telling us that the rainy season ought to be starting, so we determined as soon as possible to send out parties in different directions to make the most of the favourable opportunity. The first morning after our arrival we were up on the top of the hill by six o'clock in the hope of getting a good view to the South, but the clouds were already over most of the mountains. Everest we could see quite clearly, and Cho-Uyo, the great 26,800 feet peak that lies to the West of Mount Everest. The Depon here, who was acting as the Governor of the place, was a nice young fellow and very cheery, and later on I got to know him very well and went over to his house and was entertained by him and his wife. He told me that the Tibetans still paid tribute to Nepal for all that part of the country, and that the amount they had to pay was the equivalent of 5,000 rupees per annum. The Nepalese kept a head-man at Tingri and another at Nyenyam to deal with all criminal cases and offences committed by Nepalese subjects when in Tibet. I found later on that the Tibetans were very frightened of the Nepalese, or of having any dealings with a Gurkha. I took photographs of the Depon's wife and all their children, and of his mother-in-law, which delighted them immensely; the wife at first was very shy of coming forward, but after many tears and protestations her husband finally induced her to be photographed. The great semi-circular head-dresses that the women wear are usually covered with turquoises, and coral, and often with strings of seed pearls across them. Round their necks hang long chains of either turquoise or coral beads, sometimes mixed with lumps of amber. Suspended round the neck by a shorter chain is generally a very elaborately decorated charm box, those belonging to the richer or upper classes being of gold inlaid with turquoises, the poorer people having them made of silver with poorer turquoises. The officials, as a rule, have a long ear-ring, 4 or 5 inches long, of turquoises and pearls, suspended from the left ear, while in the right ear they wear a single turquoise of very good quality. Nearly every one carries a rosary, with which their hands are playing about the whole day. We were told that the laws governing marriage in those parts were strictly regulated. Owing to the excessive number of males, a form of polyandry prevails. If there were four brothers in a family, and the eldest one married a wife, his wife would also be the property of the three younger brothers; but if the second or third brother married, their wives would be common only to themselves and their youngest brother. In Tibet, when, owing to the severe climate, digging is impossible for about six months in the year, if a man dies his body is handed over to professional corpse butchers, of whom there are one or two in every village. These butchers cut the body up into small pieces, which are taken out on to a hill-top and scattered about for the birds of the air or the wolves to devour. If by any chance there is a delay in consuming these remains, this is looked upon as a sign that the man has led an evil life during his lifetime.

On June 22 Wollaston rejoined us again. He had escorted Raeburn to Lachen, and had there arranged for an assistant surgeon to come up and take him back as far as Gangtok. Wollaston had then come on as fast as possible to rejoin us. His kit did not arrive till the following day, as he had ridden in direct from Shekar Dzong. The following day Bullock and Mallory left us, making direct for Mount Everest, and intending to reconnoitre the North and Northwestern slopes. Looked at from here it is certainly a very wonderful mountain, as it seems to stand up all by itself, but from this side it looks far too steep to be climbed. On June 25 Wheeler and Heron went off to Kyetrak, from which point Wheeler was to begin his photographic survey. I had intended to start the following day and join them, but the acid hypo that I had been using for fixing had given off so many sulphur fumes that I had been quite “gassed” for several days and had lost my voice in consequence. Unfortunately my orderly and Wheeler's bearer, who were both Mahommedans, were taken ill with enteric. Wheeler's bearer was in a very bad way, and a few days after my departure he died, but my orderly, after a bad attack, recovered, and when I returned three weeks later he was able to be up and to walk about a little. As Wollaston was likely to be detained here for some time owing to these cases of sickness, and as Morshead wanted to get in some surveying all round Tingri, I thought it would be a good opportunity to visit the different parties that we had sent out, and also to get, if possible, some information about Kharta, which I intended should be our second base. The coolies that we had still with us at Tingri were kept busy by Wollaston, and daily they would bring in rats, birds, lizards, beetles, or fish which they had collected for him. The local people would not make any attempt to collect these animals, as they said it was against their religion. On June 26 I started out to the South and camped the first night at Sharto, a small village about 9 miles across the plain to the South of Tingri. On the way we passed numbers of bees that seemed to be coming up out of the ground and swarming. These were all of a very light brown colour. Sharto is only a small village, but there are no other houses between it and Kyetrak, so that it was necessary to stop there. As the wind always blows with great strength here, the tents were pitched within some sheltering walls. In every place that we went to now we managed to get some kind of green food which was turned into spinach; a small kind of weed that grows in the barley fields was generally thus used. At other times we tried turnip leaves, or again, when we were higher and above the limits of cultivation, the young shoots of the nettle which grows up to 17,000 feet, and is really very good. I had taken with me this time a Tibetan whom we had picked up on the way. He was called Poo, and he turned out to be an excellent cook who could make any of the Tibetan dishes. As he was a sensible fellow, and very seldom drunk, I made a good deal of use of him. He accompanied me in all my wanderings, and I could not have found a more useful servant when travelling, as he never seemed to mind the cold or the height and could always produce a fire of some kind, even though he had forgotten to bring any matches. That evening at Sharto there was a curious false sunset in the East with rays of light in the deep purple of the sky. All the hills stood out with wonderful sharpness, and the colours were very beautiful. Towards nightfall we saw a number of kiang, which came quite close up to the camp and started feeding on the barley fields in spite of the pillars of stones and the strings which are put round the fields to keep both them and the hares away from the crops. The next morning I started off early as I intended to climb a hill 17,700 feet, on the way to Kyetrak. This hill, however, proved further off than I anticipated, and we had some difficulty in crossing a glacier stream, so that I did not get up to the top till 9 a.m., by which time the clouds had hidden a great part of the mountains to the South of us. The view, nevertheless, was extraordinarily fine. The top of Everest just showed above a great icy range to the East of us, and South-east was that great group of mountains of which Cho-Uyo, 26,800 feet, is the highest. Immense granite precipices descended sheer for several thousand feet until they reached great winding glaciers, while from over the Khombu Pass long wisps of cloud came sailing round these peaks and eventually hid them from our view. To the North the view extended right up to the watershed of the Brahmaputra, 80 to 100 miles distant. The different colours of the hills, the light and shade from the clouds, all formed a charming picture. Once over 17,000 feet, I met my old friend the dwarf blue poppy (Meconopsis) and many pretty white, blue and yellow saxifrages that grew on the rocks. Descending from this hill into the Kyetrak Valley, we passed a number of goa which were quite tame, but unfortunately they were all females. We had two more big glacial torrents to cross which later in the afternoon would probably have been impassable as by that time they would have risen another 2 feet, due to the melting of the snow and the ice by the hot sun in the morning; indeed, we only just managed to get across when we did. The main Kyetrak stream comes from the great glacier that descends from Cho-Uyo and the Khombu Pass. Opposite the village of Kyetrak it is luckily divided into a number of small streams, so that it is usually possible to get across it, though in the afternoons it is always somewhat difficult.

This village lies at a height of 16,000 feet, at the foot of the Khombu or Nangba Pass and the Pusi Pass. The former is a high glacier-covered pass, about 19,000 feet, that leads into the Khombu Valley in Nepal. The other, the Pusi Pass, is a much lower and easier pass that leads into the Rongshar Valley. Between these two passes lies a very beautiful glacier-covered peak called Chorabsang. Here at Kyetrak I met Heron and Wheeler encamped in the shelter of some walls close to the village, which consisted of a few dirty stone houses and a big Chorten. The people told me that they lived here all the year round, and that they owned the grazing for many miles to the North and possessed herds of yaks several thousand in number. Traffic could be kept up over these passes, they said, at all times of the year, though only with great difficulty, and with much danger, whole convoys being sometimes wiped out by blizzards when trying to cross the Khombu Pass, as the fine powdery snow is blown down into their faces from every direction and they finally get suffocated by it. That night there was a sharp frost, and the following morning Heron and I started to go up towards the Khombu Pass, following at first the East side of the Kyetrak Glacier. For about 6 or 7 miles we rode beside the great moraine that extended along the East side of this glacier; every now and then we climbed up on to a mound on the edge of the glacier in order to take photographs of it. The ice was all torn and riven into wonderful shapes and opposite us was the finely crevassed peak of Chorabsang. I pushed on, leaving Heron to come on at a slower pace, as I was anxious to get to the top of the pass before the clouds should have come up and hidden all the views. Every day it cost us a race to get up to a point of vantage before the clouds should have come up and hidden everything. Leaving the pony behind, with one coolie, I pressed forward for some 4 miles up a very stony and slippery moraine on the glacier. Here were many curious ice formations—ice tables with a big flat rock superimposed, curious upright pillars of ice, and the main glacier itself was worn by stone and water into the weirdest shapes and forms. In places, too, we came across that curious formation which in South America is called Nieve Penitentes. As we passed onwards, new glaciers opened up in every valley. The views up some of these side valleys, which often widened out into great amphitheatres, were very grand, especially that of the huge glacier that swept down from below the rock walls of Cho-Uyo.

On arriving at the end of the moraine, the boots that my coolie was wearing came to pieces and he said he could go no further across the snow, so shouldering the big camera, I started off alone. At first the ice was firm, but soon I came to soft snow and much water underneath it: they made the going very unpleasant and I kept floundering about up to my knees in snow and water. At length I came to a large crevasse along the edge of which I followed for over half a mile as most of the snow bridges across it were unsafe. At last I found my way across and by climbing on to some rocks was able to look over the top of the pass and down into Nepal. The height of the pass seemed to be about 19,000 feet, and as the day was very hot, I lay down and went sound asleep, only waking up when it began to snow. I then started, none too soon, on my homeward journey: all the way back snow fell heavily. I was very thankful to meet my coolie again and to hand over the camera to him: carrying a camera for five or six hours in soft snow at a height of over 18,000 feet is a heavy tax upon the endurance of anyone unaccustomed to carrying weights. Wheeler meanwhile had moved up his camp from Kyetrak to a spot on the moraine East of the glacier and intended to spend a week or fortnight in that valley.

The next morning Heron and I started to go over the Pusi Pass (Marmot Pass), so called because of the number of marmots that frequent the Southern slopes. After fording the Kyetrak River, we climbed up the moraine to the West of the Kyetrak Glacier and then turned up some easy grass hills until we came to the top of the pass, 17,700 feet. Here at the very top were growing some delightful little dwarf forget-me-nots—not an inch high—also many white and yellow saxifrages. Most of the views were unfortunately hidden by clouds, though one fine triple-headed peak showed up well to the South. We passed several flocks of female burhel (Ovis nahura), which were quite tame, and allowed us to ride up to within 50 yards of them. The hillsides were bare at first and grassy and the air felt distinctly cold and damp. We now commenced our long descent, and at 16,000 feet began to meet with juniper bushes and many dwarf rhododendrons. As we got lower, many more varieties of bushes appeared. There were two or three kinds of berberis, loniceras, white and pink spirÆas, and quantities of white roses; besides these were masses of primulas and anemones, and pink, white or mauve geraniums. We now followed the right bank of the Shung-chu, a great glacial torrent, which joined by several others became an unfordable stream. The path was well engineered, sometimes close to the river, and sometimes built out on rocks high above the stream. All of a sudden the valley narrowed into a great gorge. We had left all the granites and slates behind and had suddenly come into the zone of the gneiss, which extended many miles to the South. A little way further down, at a place where two other valleys meet, we caught sight of some green barley fields lying round the small village of Tasang where we encamped on a terrace for the night. We were now at a height of only 13,300 feet, and were able to get fresh eggs and vegetables again. It was a great pleasure once more to have wood fires in place of the yak dung with its acrid smoke, which caused all one's food to taste unpleasantly. Here we used as fuel the aromatic wood of the juniper.

This valley is looked upon as a holy one, owing to the number of juniper bushes that grow in it, and several hermits and nuns had taken up their abode in it and shut themselves up in caves in order to meditate. The nearest village used to supply them with food, and morning and evening could be seen ascending the blue smoke of the juniper, which they burnt as incense before the entrances of their dwelling places. There was a hermit who lived close to the village and whose cave we could see high up in the rocks above. The villagers told us that after meditating for a period of ten years, he would be able to live on only ten grains of barley a day, and they were looking forward to that day. There was another anchorite female who was supposed to have lived here for 138 years and who was greatly revered. She had forbidden any of the animals in the valley to be killed, and that was the reason why the flocks of burhel we had passed were so extremely tame. The next day, giving our transport a rest, Heron and I walked for 7 or 8 miles down the valley. On the opposite side of the valley the only trees were birches and willow, and it was curious that, at these comparatively low heights, there were no large rhododendrons or fir trees. On the other side of the valley, the vegetation consisted wholly of juniper, berberis or wild roses. We descended to 12,000 feet, most of the time going through narrow gorges. At one place we came across a number of gooseberry bushes covered with young gooseberries, of which we gathered a sufficient supply to last us for several days. The rose bushes were charming all the way. At first they were all of the white creamy coloured variety, but lower down we came on the big red one with flowers often more than 3 inches in diameter. Wherever there were springs of water there grew masses of anemones and yellow primulas. We now returned to our camp at Tasang, and rain then started and continued the remainder of the day. The people told us that this valley was passable for animals for three days' journey, after which the river entered into some terrible gorges down which it was only just possible for a coolie to get along, and these latter gorges formed the boundary between Tibet and Nepal. On July 1 we started to return to Kyetrak; the morning was misty when we started, and though the higher peaks were all hidden in the clouds, the sun shone brightly and the day was quite hot. Our kit did not arrive till between five and six o'clock, and the yaks had a great deal of trouble in getting across the Kyetrak River, as it had risen considerably. Wheeler was still at his high camp further up the valley, waiting for a really clear day. The clouds, too, were his great enemies, as they came up very early every morning from over the Khombu Pass.

From here Heron and I had decided to go on and see how Mallory and Bullock had been faring in the next valley, so the next morning, after breakfasting at 5 a.m., we started off. It was one of the coldest mornings we had had, with a very hard frost, and being on the shady side of the valley we did not get the sun till several hours after we had started. After going down the valley for about 6 miles, we turned off to the East and crossed several easy passes, the higher of them, the Lamna La, being 16,900 feet. The country was very barren of flowers and vegetation, but there was a certain amount of grazing for yaks and sheep. The march to Zambu was a fairly long one of 20 miles, but the yaks came along well. This was a more prosperous-looking village than most of them, and the houses were all whitewashed. We were still too high for barley fields as we were just 16,000 feet, but the wealth of the village lay in its herds of yaks and sheep; the villagers told us they owned 3,000 yaks. Shepherds in this country are but poorly paid, getting only thirty trangkas (10s.) per annum. But house servants are still worse off, getting only eight trangkas (2s. 8d.) per annum. However, they seem to thrive under those wages and there is no discontent or trades unionism among them. Our camp was pitched in a sunny spot not far from the village, looking straight over towards Mount Everest, whose top appeared over the opposite hills. From this side its precipices looked most formidable and there was also a magnificent ridge which we had not seen before. There was a slight frost again that night.

Breakfasting, as usual, at 5 a.m., I started up the hill South of the camp and was lucky enough to get a clear view of Everest and the Rongbuk Valley that led up to it. This valley ran right up to the foot of Mount Everest and seemed an easy enough approach, but the mountain itself looked absolutely unscalable from this side, showing nothing but a series of very steep precipices. The day turned out to be a very hot one. I descended into the valley below, and started to ride up towards Mount Everest. Presently I came to an unfordable stream, and after making several attempts to get across this, found myself compelled to return several miles down the valley to the monastery of ChÖbu, where there was a slender footbridge. The pony that I was riding was swum across, a rope being attached to its head. He was then pulled over to the far side, a proceeding he did not at all enjoy. The yaks, too, were unladen, and the loads carried by hand over the bridge. After this the yaks were driven into the river and made to swim across, but they only went as far as an island in the middle of the river. From this place they would not budge in spite of stones, curses and threats, until at length a man with a sling, fetched from the monastery, hurled stones at them with great violence: this procedure apparently so stung them up that they thought it advisable to cross the remainder of the stream. At the entrance to the valley, we passed some very tame burhel within a few yards of the path, and then went along at the foot of some fine cliffs with limestone on the top and layers of hornblende and granite below. At first there was quite a rich vegetation growing here, considering we were just on 16,000 feet. There were juniper bushes, clematis, willows, a genista, rock roses, and even some yellow primulas, but as we got further into the valley it became more stony, and on either side of the path were small piles of stones heaped up by pilgrims. The valley was considered very sacred and was apparently a great place of pilgrimage. We found the base camp of the Alpine climbers pitched close to the Rongbuk Monastery, where there lived a very high re-incarnated Lama who was in meditation and not allowed to see anyone. This valley was called the Rongbuk, or inner valley—a name well suited to it; the legend was that from this valley there used to be a pass over into the Khombu Valley, but the high Lama who lived here forbade the use of it, as it disturbed the meditations of the recluses and hermits, of which there were several hundred here. At first these good people did not at all approve of our coming into this valley, as they thought we should be likely to disturb and distract their meditations.

The Rongbuk Monastery lies at a height of 16,500 feet, and is an unpleasantly cold spot. This monastery contains twenty permanent Lamas who always live there, together with the re-incarnated Lama. Besides these, there are three hundred other associated Lamas who come in periodically, remaining there for periods of varying length. These Associate Lamas are mostly well-to-do, and having sufficient money to support themselves are not a drain upon the villagers. They will often invest several thousand trangkas with some village, and in return for this money the village will supply them with food, barley, milk, eggs and fuel. Higher up the valley there was a smaller monastery, and dotted along the hillside were numerous cells and caves where monks or nuns had retired to meditate. Every animal that we saw in this valley was extraordinarily tame. In the mornings we watched the burhel coming to some hermits' cells not a hundred yards away from the camp, to be fed, and from there they went on to other cells. They seemed to have no fear whatever of human beings. On the way up the valley we passed within 40 to 50 yards of a fine flock of rams, but they barely moved away, and on the way back we passed some females that were so inquisitive that they actually came up to within 10 yards of us in order to have a look at us. The rock pigeons came and fed out of one's hand, and the ravens and all the other birds here were equally tame; it was most interesting to be able to watch all their habits and to see them at such close quarters. On July 4, Heron and I walked up the valley to see Mallory and Bullock, who had got an Alpine camp some 7 miles further up the valley at a height of 18,000 feet, where they were training their coolies in snow and ice work and trying to find out whether there was any possible way of attacking Mount Everest from this side. It was a beautiful morning when we started, and on the way we passed one or two small monasteries and numerous cells where hermits and recluses were living in retirement and meditation. After crossing several small lake beds and old moraines—for the big Rongbuk Glacier seemed to have been retiring in the last few years—we came to the big moraine-covered Rongbuk Glacier. This glacier appeared to be about 8 or 9 miles long, starting immediately below an immense circle of cliffs which formed the North face of Mount Everest. We found afterwards that there were several other side glaciers that joined in it, which were even larger and longer than the centre glacier. After some steep scrambles up the moraine-covered glacier and on to a high terrace on the West side of it, we found Mallory and Bullock with their coolies encamped in a pleasantly sheltered spot with plenty of water close at hand and commanding the most magnificent views of Mount Everest, which here seemed to be only about 6 miles away and towered up above the glacier, showing immense cliffs 10,000 feet high. Mallory and Bullock were hard at work training the coolies in snow and ice work and exploring all the different glaciers from that side. They were, however, much handicapped by there only being two of them, which made the work more strenuous. After spending the day with them, Heron and I returned to our camp in the evening. The evening light on Mount Everest was wonderfully beautiful. The weather seems nearly always to clear up about sunset, and its summit then usually towers far above the clouds in a clear sky. At dusk several of the Lamas came for medicines of different kinds, which we gave them, and much to our surprise in the morning they presented us with a number of fresh eggs in gratitude. Having seen Mallory and Bullock well established in this valley, our next most important duty seemed to be to select a site for our next base camp. Some place on the East side of Mount Everest would have to be chosen, and it seemed that somewhere in the Kharta Valley would be the most likely spot. Heron and I therefore determined that we would make a quick reconnaissance of that district before returning to Tingri. On the following day we moved down from the Rongbuk Monastery.