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[Illustration: _The Summit._]

                               MOUNT EVEREST
                         THE RECONNAISSANCE, 1921

                                    By

                   Lieut.-Col. C. K. HOWARD-BURY, D.S.O.

             AND OTHER MEMBERS OF THE MOUNT EVEREST EXPEDITION

                       _WITH ILLUSTRATIONS AND MAPS_

                          LONGMANS, GREEN AND CO.
                         55 FIFTH AVENUE, NEW YORK
                        LONDON: EDWARD ARNOLD & CO.
                                   1922

                                  PREFACE

The Mount Everest Committee of the Royal Geographical Society and the
Alpine Club desire to express their thanks to Colonel Howard-Bury,
Mr. Wollaston, Mr. Mallory, Major Morshead, Major Wheeler and Dr. Heron
for the trouble they have taken to write so soon after their return an
account of their several parts in the joint work of the Expedition. They
have thereby enabled the present Expedition to start with full knowledge
of the results of the reconnaissance, and the public to follow the
progress of the attempt to reach the summit with full information at
hand.

The Committee also wish to take this opportunity of thanking the
Imperial Dry Plate Company for having generously presented photographic
plates to the Expedition and so contributed to the production of the
excellent photographs that have been brought back.

They also desire to thank the Peninsular and Oriental Steam Navigation
Company for their liberality in allowing the members to travel at
reduced fares; and the Government of India for allowing the stores and
equipment of the Expedition to enter India free of duty.

                                    J. E. C. EATON }
                                    A. R. HINKS    } _Hon. Secretaries._

                                 CONTENTS

                                                                      PAGE

  INTRODUCTION. By SIR FRANCIS YOUNGHUSBAND, K.C.S.I., K.C.I.E.,
         President of the Royal Geographical Society                     1

                      THE NARRATIVE OF THE EXPEDITION
                 By LIEUT.-COL. C. K. HOWARD-BURY, D.S.O.

   CHAP.

      I  FROM DARJEELING THROUGH SIKKIM                                 23
     II  THE CHUMBI VALLEY AND THE TIBETAN PLATEAU                      37
    III  FROM KHAMBA DZONG THROUGH UNKNOWN COUNTRY TO TINGRI            55
     IV  TINGRI AND THE COUNTRY TO THE SOUTH                            71
      V  THE SEARCH FOR KHARTA                                          86
     VI  THE MOVE TO KHARTA                                             98
    VII  THE KAMA VALLEY                                               112
   VIII  THE UPPER KHARTA VALLEY AND THE 20,000-FOOT CAMP              130
     IX  THE RETURN TO KHARTA BY THE KAMA VALLEY                       146
      X  THE RETURN JOURNEY TO PHARI                                   156
     XI  BACK TO CIVILISATION                                          170

                    THE RECONNAISSANCE OF THE MOUNTAIN
                        By GEORGE H. LEIGH-MALLORY

    XII  THE NORTHERN APPROACH                                         183
   XIII  THE NORTHERN APPROACH (_continued_)                           203
    XIV  THE EASTERN APPROACH                                          221
     XV  THE ASSAULT                                                   250
    XVI  WEATHER AND CONDITION OF SNOW                                 262
   XVII  THE ROUTE TO THE SUMMIT                                       273

                              NATURAL HISTORY
                           By A. F. R. WOLLASTON

  XVIII  AN EXCURSION TO NYENYAM AND LAPCHE KANG                       281
    XIX  NATURAL HISTORY NOTES                                         290

     XX  AN APPRECIATION OF THE RECONNAISSANCE. By $1, F.R.S.,
         President of the Alpine Club                                  304

                                APPENDICES

      I  THE SURVEY. By Major H. T. MORSHEAD, D.S.O.                   319
     II  THE PHOTOGRAPHIC SURVEY. By Major E. O. WHEELER, M.C.         329
    III  A NOTE ON THE GEOLOGICAL RESULTS OF THE EXPEDITION.
         By A. M. HERON, D.Sc., F.G.S., Geological Survey of India     338
     IV  THE SCIENTIFIC EQUIPMENT. By A. R. HINKS, F.R.S.,
         Secretary of the Royal Geographical Society                   341
      V  MAMMALS, BIRDS AND PLANTS COLLECTED BY THE EXPEDITION.
         By A. F. R. WOLLASTON                                         344
         INDEX                                                         351

                           LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

                                                                    FACING
                                                                      PAGE

  The Summit                                        _Frontispiece_
  Chomolhari from the South                                             46
  Loading up at Dochen                                                  50
  Kampa Dzong                                                           54
  Tinki Dzong                                                           58
  Gyangka Range from near Chushar                                       62
  Shekar Dzong                                                          66
  The Abbot of Shekar Chöte                                             68
  Military Governor, his Wife and Mother                               100
  The Dzongpen of Kharta and his Wife                                  106
  Lamas of Kharta Monastery                                            110
  Makalu from 21,500-foot peak on ridge south of Kama-chu              112
  Makalu and Chomolönzo                                                114
  Cliffs of Chomolönzo from camp at Pethang Ringmo                     116
  The Kama Valley                                                      118
  Sea of cloud from peak north of Kama Valley. Kanchenjunga in
    distance                                                           138
  Chomolönzo from the alp below the Langma La, Kama Valley             150
  Members of the Expedition                                            178
  Cho-Uyo                                                              190
  Summit of Mount Everest and North Peak from the Island, West Rongbuk
    Glacier                                                            210
  Mount Everest from the Rongbuk Glacier, nine miles north-west        214
  Summit of Mount Everest and South Peak from the Island, West Rongbuk
    Glacier                                                            218
  Pethang-tse                                                          222
  Summit of Makalu                                                     226
  South-east Ridge of Mount Everest from above the 20,000-foot camp,
    Kharta Valley                                                      230
  North-east of Mount Everest and Chang La from Lhakpa La              246
  Mount Everest from the 20,000-foot camp--wind blowing snow off the
    mountain                                                           278
  Temple at Lapche Kang                                                286
  Gauri-Sankar                                                         288
  Lower Kama-chu                                                       290
  Junipers in the Kama Valley                                          294
  Forest in the Kama Valley                                            300
  Mount Everest at sunset from the 20,000-foot camp, Kharta Valley     316

                               LIST OF MAPS

    I  Map to illustrate the route of the Mount Everest
       Expedition. Scale 1/750,000                                _At end_
   II  Map of Mount Everest. Scale 1/100,000                          "
  III  Geological Map of the Mount Everest Region                     "

                               INTRODUCTION

              BY SIR FRANCIS YOUNGHUSBAND, K.C.S.I., K.C.I.E.

The idea of climbing Mount Everest has been vaguely in men's mind for
thirty or forty years past. Certainly that veteran mountain-climber and
mountain-lover, Douglas Freshfield, had it persistently rising within
him as he broke away from the Swiss Alps and subdued the giants of the
Caucasus and then sought still higher peaks to conquer. Lord Curzon also
had had it in his mind, and when Viceroy of India had written suggesting
that the Royal Geographical Society and the Alpine Club should make a
joint exploration of the mountain. Bruce, Longstaff and Mumm would have
made this exploration in 1905 if the permission of the Nepalese and
Tibetan Governments had been available. So also would Rawling a few
years later. All these, and doubtless others, had contemplated at least
a preliminary reconnaissance of Mount Everest.

But, so far as I know, the first man to propose a definite expedition to
Mount Everest was the then Captain Bruce, who, when he and I were
together in Chitral in 1893, proposed to me that we should make a
glorious termination to a journey from Chinese Turkestan across Tibet by
ascending Mount Everest. And it is Bruce who has held to the idea ever
since and sought any opportunity that offered of getting at the
mountain.

It stands to reason that men with any zest for mountaineering could not
possibly allow Mount Everest to remain untouched. The time, the
opportunity, the money, the ability to make the necessary preliminary
preparation might be lacking, but the wish and the will to stand on the
summit of the world's highest mountain must have been in the heart of
many a mountaineer since the Alps have been so firmly trampled under
foot. The higher climbers climb, the higher they want to climb. It is
certain that they will never rest content till the proudest peaks of the
Himalaya are as subdued and tamed as the once dreaded summits of the
Alps now are.

Men simply cannot resist exercising and stretching to their fullest
tether the faculties and aptitudes with which they each happen to be
specially endowed. One born with an aptitude for painting is dull and
morose and fidgety until he can get colours and a brush into his hand
and commence painting. Another is itching to make things--to use his
hands and fashion wood or stone or metal into forms which he is
continually creating in his mind. Another is restless until he can sing.
Another is ever pining to be on a public platform swaying the audience
with his oratory and playing on their feelings as on a musical
instrument. Each has his own inner aptitude which he aches to give vent
to and bring into play. And more than this, he secretly owns within
himself an exceedingly high standard--the highest standard--of what he
wants to attain to along his own particular line, and he is never really
content in his mind and at peace with himself when he is not stretching
himself out to the full towards this high pinnacle which he has set
before him.

Now fortunately all men are not born with the same aptitudes. We do not
all want to sing or all want to orate or all want to paint. Some few
want to climb mountains. These men love to pit themselves against what
most others would consider an insuperable obstacle. They enjoy measuring
themselves against it and being forced to exercise all their energies
and faculties to overcome it. The Duke of the Abruzzi is as good an
example of this type as I know. He was never happy until he had
discovered some inaccessible and impracticable mountain and then thrown
himself against it and come to grips with it in dead earnest and either
conquered it or been thrown back from it utterly and completely
exhausted, but with the satisfaction that anyhow he had exercised every
nerve and muscle and faculty to the full. His native mountains he had
early conquered over and over again, so he had to look further afield to
Mount Elias in Alaska and Ruwenzori in East Africa; and having
vanquished these he would doubtless have turned his eyes to Mount
Everest if for political reasons the way to that mountain had not been
barred, and he was compelled therefore to look to the next highest
mountain, namely, the peak K2 in the Karakoram Himalaya in the
neighbourhood of which he attained to a greater height, 24,600 feet,
than has yet been attained by any man on foot.

The Duke no doubt is human and would like his name to go down to
posterity as having conquered some conspicuously lofty and difficult
peak. But undoubtedly the ruling passion with him would be this love of
pitting himself against a great mountain and feeling that he was being
forced to exert himself to the full. To such men a tussle with a
mountain is a real tonic--something bracing and refreshing. And even if
they are laid out flat by the mountain instead of standing triumphant on
its summit they have enjoyed the struggle and would go back for another
if they ever had the chance.

Others--like Bruce--climb from sheer exuberance of spirits. Blessed with
boundless energy they revel in its exercise. It is only on the mountain
side, breathing its pure air, buffeting against its storms, testing
their nerve, running hair-breadth risks, exercising their intelligence
and judgment, feeling their manhood and looking on Nature face to face
and with open heart and mind that they are truly happy. For these men
days on the mountain are days when they really live. And as the cobwebs
in their brains get blown away, as the blood begins to course
refreshingly through their veins, as all their faculties become tuned up
and their whole being becomes more sensitive, they detect appeals from
Nature they had never heard before and see beauties which are revealed
only to those who win them. They may not at the moment be aware of the
deepest impressions they are receiving. But to those who have struggled
with them the mountains reveal beauties they will not disclose to those
who make no effort. That is the reward the mountains give to effort. And
it is because they have much to give and give it so lavishly to those
who will wrestle with them that men love the mountains and go back to
them again and again.

And naturally the mountains reserve their choicest gifts for those who
stand upon their summits. The climber's vision is then no longer
confined and enclosed. He can see now all round. His width of outlook is
enlarged to its full extremity. He sees in every direction. He has a
sense of being raised above the world and being proudly conscious that
he has raised himself there by his own exertions, he has a peculiar
satisfaction and for the time forgets all frets and worries in the
serener atmosphere in which he now for a moment dwells.

And it is only for a moment that he can dwell there. For men cannot
always live on the heights. They must come down to the plains again and
engage in the practical life of the world. But the vision from the
heights never leaves them. They want to return there. They want to reach
a higher height. Their standard of achievement rises. And so it has come
about that mountaineers when they had climbed the highest heights in
Europe went off to the Caucasus, to the Andes, and eventually to the
Himalaya to climb something higher still. Freshfield conquered the
Caucasus, Whymper and Conway the Andes, and the assault upon the
Himalaya is now in full swing.

It is therefore only in the natural course of things that men should
want to climb the highest summit of the Himalaya. And though those who
set out to climb Mount Everest will probably think little of the
eventual results, being perfectly satisfied in their own minds, without
any elaborate reasoning, that what they are attempting is something
supremely worth while, yet it is easy for lookers on to see that much
unexpected good will result from their activities. The climbers will be
actuated by sheer love of mountaineering, and that is enough for them.
But climbing Mount Everest is no futile and useless performance of no
satisfaction to anyone but the climbers. Results will follow from it of
the highest value to mankind at large.

For the climbers are unwittingly carrying out an experiment of momentous
consequence to mankind. They are testing the capacity of the human race
to stand the highest altitudes on this earth which is its home. No
scientific man, no physiologist or physician, can now say for certain
whether or not a human body can reach a height of 29,000 feet above the
sea. We know that in an aeroplane he can be carried up to a much greater
height. But we do not know whether he can climb on his own feet such an
altitude. That knowledge of men's capacity can only be acquired by
practical experiment in the field.

And in the process of acquiring the knowledge a valuable result will
ensue. By testing their capacities men actually increase them. By
exercising their capacities to the full mountaineers seem to enlarge
them. A century ago the ascent of Mount Blanc seemed the limit of human
capacity. Nowadays hundreds ascend the mountain every year. And going
further afield men ascended the highest peaks in the Caucasus and then
in the Andes and have been reaching higher and higher altitudes in the
Himalaya. Conway reached 23,000 feet, Kellas 23,186 feet, Longstaff
23,360 feet, Dr. Workman 23,000 feet, Kellas and Meade 23,600 feet and
the Duke of the Abruzzi 24,600 feet. It looks therefore as if man by
attempting more was actually making himself capable of achieving more.
By straining after the highest he is increasing his capacity to attain
it.

In this measuring of themselves against the mountains men are indeed
very like puppies crawling about and testing their capacities on their
surroundings--crawling up on to some obstacle, tumbling back discomfited
but returning gallantly to the attack and at last triumphantly
surmounting it. Thus do they find out what they can do and how they
stand in relation to their surroundings. Also by exercising and
stretching their muscles and faculties to the full they actually
increase their capacity.

Men are still only in the puppy stage of existence. We are prone to
think ourselves very "grown up" but really we are only in our childhood.
In the latest discussions as to the period of time which must have
elapsed since life first appeared upon this earth a period of the order
of a thousand million years was named. But of that immense period man
has been in existence for only a quarter or half a million years. So the
probability is that he has still long years before him and must be now
only in his childhood--in his puppyhood. We certainly find that as he
inquisitively looks about his surroundings and measures himself against
them he is steadily increasing his mastery over them. In the last five
hundred years record after record has been beaten. Men have ventured
more and shown more adaptability and a sterner hardihood and endurance
than ever before. They have ventured across the oceans, circumnavigated
the globe, reached the poles, risen into the air, and it can be only a
question of time--a few months or a few years--before they reach the
highest summit of the earth.

"What then?" some will ask. "Suppose men do reach the top of Mount
Everest, what then?" "Suppose we do establish the fact that man has the
capacity to surmount the highest summit of his surroundings, of what
good is that knowledge?" This is the kind of question promoters of the
enterprise continually have to answer. One reply is obvious. The sight
of climbers struggling upwards to the supreme pinnacle will have taught
men to lift their eyes unto the hills--to raise them off the ground and
direct them, if only for a moment, to something pure and lofty and
satisfying to that inner craving for the worthiest which all men have
hidden in their souls. And when they see men thrown back at first but
venturing again and again to the assault till with faltering footsteps
and gasping breaths they at last reach the summit they will thrill with
pride. They will no longer be obsessed with the thought of what mites
they are in comparison with the mountains--how insignificant they are
beside their material surroundings. They will have a proper pride in
themselves and a well-grounded faith in the capacity of spirit to
dominate material.

And direct practical results flow from this increasing confidence which
man is acquiring in face of the mountains. A century ago Napoleon's
crossing of the Alps was thought an astounding feat. During the last
thirty years troops--and Indian troops--have been moved about the
Himalaya in all seasons and crossed passes over 15,000 feet above sea
level in the depth of winter. On the Gilgit frontier, in Chitral, and in
Tibet, neither cold nor snow nor wind stopped them. In winter or in
summer, in spring or in autumn, they have faced the Himalayan passes.
And they have been able to negotiate them successfully because of their
increased knowledge of men's capacities and of the way to overcome
difficulties that constant wrestling with mountains in all parts of the
world during the last half-century has given. The activities of the
Alpine Club have produced direct practical results in the movement of
troops in the Himalaya.

More still will follow. When men have proved that they can surmount the
highest peak in the Himalaya they will take heart to climb other peaks
and become more and more at home in that wonderful region, extending for
nigh two thousand miles from the Roof of the World in the North and West
to the borders of Burma and China in the South and East and containing
more than seventy peaks over 24,000 feet in height--that is higher than
any in the Andes, the second highest range of mountains in the
world--and more than eleven hundred peaks over 20,000 feet in height.
This great mountain region which in Europe would stretch from Calais to
the Caspian is one vast mine of beauty of every varied description. And
a mine of beauty has this advantage over a mine of material wealth--that
we can never exhaust it. And not only can we never exhaust it, but the
more we take out the more we find, and the more we give away the richer
we are. We may go on digging into a gold mine, but eventually we shall
find there is no gold left. We shall have exhausted our mine. But we may
dig into that mine of beauty in the Himalaya and never exhaust it. The
more we dig the more we shall find--richer beauty, subtler beauty, more
varied beauty--beauty of mountain form and beauty of pure and delicate
colour, beauty of forest, beauty of river and beauty of lake and
combined beauty of rushing torrent, precipitous cliff, richest
vegetation and overtopping snowy summit. And when we have discovered
these treasures and made them our own we can actually increase their
value to ourselves by giving them away to others. By imparting to others
the enjoyment which we have felt we shall have increased our own
enjoyment.

We cannot expect those who are first engaged in climbing Mount Everest
to have the time or inclination to observe and describe the full beauty
there is. They will be set on overcoming the physical difficulties and
they will be so exhausted for the moment by the effort they will have
made that they will not have the repose of mind which is so necessary
for seeing and depicting beauty. But when they have pioneered the way
and beaten down a path, others will more leisurely follow after. Many
even of these may not be able to express in words or in picture the
enjoyment they have felt and be able to communicate it to others. They
may not be given to public speech or writing and may have no capacity
for painting. The flame of their enjoyment may be kept sacred and hidden
within them, and it may be only in the privacy of colloquy with some
kindred soul that the white glow of their enjoyment may ever be shown.
But, others there may be who have the capacity for making the world at
large share with them some little of the joy they have felt--who can
make our nerves tingle and our blood course quicker, our eyes uplift
themselves and our outlook widen as we go out with them to face and
overcome the mountains. Such men as these from their very intimacy with
the mountains are able to point out beauties which distant beholders
would never suspect. And as Leslie Stephen through his love of mountains
has been able to attract thousands to the Alps and given them enjoyment,
clean and fresh, which but for him they might never have known, so we
hope that in the fulness of time a greater Stephen will tell of the
unsurpassable beauty of the Himalaya and by so doing add appreciably to
the enjoyment of human life.

Such are some of the advantages which men in general will obtain from
the attempt to climb Mount Everest. But it is time now to say something
of the mountain itself.

Mount Everest for its size is a singularly shy and retiring mountain. It
hides itself away behind other mountains. On the north side, in Tibet,
it does indeed stand up proudly and alone, a true monarch among
mountains. But it stands in a very sparsely inhabited part of Tibet, and
very few people ever go to Tibet. From the Indian side only its tip
appears among a mighty array of peaks which being nearer look higher.
Consequently for a long time no one suspected Mount Everest of being the
supreme mountain not only of the Himalaya but of the world. At the time
when Hooker was making his Himalayan journeys--that was in
1849--Kanchenjunga was believed to be the highest.

How it was eventually discovered to be the highest is a story worth
recording. In the very year that Hooker was botanising in the Sikkim
Himalaya the officers of the Great Trigonometrical Survey were making
observations from the plains of India to the peaks in Nepal which could
be seen from there. When they could find a native name for a peak they
called it by that name. But in most cases no native name was
forthcoming, and in those cases a Roman number was affixed to the peak.
Among these unnamed peaks to which observations to determine the
altitude and position were taken from stations in the plains was Peak
XV. The observations were recorded, but the resulting height was not
computed till three years later, and then one day the Bengali Chief
Computer rushed into the room of the Surveyor-General, Sir Andrew Waugh,
breathlessly exclaiming, "Sir! I have discovered the highest mountain in
the world." The mean result of all the observations taken from the six
stations from which Peak XV had been observed came to 29,002 feet, and
this Peak XV is what is now known as Mount Everest.

The question is often asked, "Why twenty-nine thousand and two?" "Why be
so particular about the two?" The answer is that that particular figure
is the mean of many observations. But it is not infallible. It is indeed
in all probability below rather than above the mark, and a later
computation of the observed results puts the height at 29,141 feet. In
any case, however, there are, as Sir Sidney Burrard has pointed out in
his discussion of this point in Burrard and Hayden's _Himalaya and
Tibet_, many causes of slight error in observing and computing the
altitude of a distant and very lofty peak. The observations are made
with a theodolite. The telescope of the theodolite may not be absolutely
perfect. The theodolite may not be levelled with perfect accuracy. The
graduations on the circle of the theodolite may not be quite accurate.
The observer himself may not have observed with sufficient perfection.
An error of ten feet may have resulted from these causes. Then there are
other and greater sources of possible error. There may be error in the
assumed height of the observing station; and the altitudes of peaks are
always varying in nature with the increase and decrease of snow in
summer and winter and in a season of heavy snowfall or a season of light
snowfall. Another source of error arises from the varying effects of
gravitational attraction. "The attraction of the great mass of the
Himalaya and Tibet," says Burrard, "pulls all liquids towards itself, as
the moon attracts the ocean and the surface of the water assumes an
irregular form at the foot of the Himalaya. If the ocean were to
overflow Northern India its surface would be deformed by Himalayan
attraction. The liquid in levels is similarly affected and theodolites
cannot consequently be adjusted; their plates when levelled are still
tilted upward towards the mountains, and angles of observation are too
small by the amount the horizon is inclined to the tangential plane. At
Darjeeling the surface of water in repose is inclined about 35'' to
this plane, at Kurseong about 51'', at Siliguri about 23'', at Dehra
Dun and Mussooree about 37''. For this reason all angles of elevation
to Himalayan peaks measured from the plains, as Mount Everest was
measured, are too small and consequently all our values of Himalayan
heights are too small. Errors of this nature range from 40 to 100 feet."

This then is a considerable source of error, but the most serious source
of uncertainty affecting the value of heights is the refraction of the
atmosphere. A ray of light from a peak to an observer's eye does not
travel along a straight line but assumes a curved path concave to the
earth. The ray enters the observer's eye in a direction tangential to
the curve at that point, and this is the direction in which the observer
sees the peak. It makes the peak appear too high. Corrections have
therefore to be applied. But there is no certainty as to what should be
the amount of the correction; and it is now believed that the computers
of the height of Mount Everest applied too great a correction for
refraction and consequently reduced its height too much.

Burrard brings together in the following table the different errors to
which the carefully determined height of Mount Everest is liable:--

  ---------------------------------------------------+--------------------
                 Source of error.                    |   Magnitude of
                                                     |  possible error.
  ---------------------------------------------------+--------------------
  Variation of snow level from the mean              |  Unknown
  Errors of observation                              |  10 feet
  Adoption of erroneous height for observing station |  10 feet
  Deviation of gravity                               |  60 feet, too small
  Atmospheric refraction                             | 150 feet, too small
  ---------------------------------------------------+--------------------

The following table shows how the different values of the height of
Mount Everest have been deduced:--

                       HEIGHT OF MOUNT EVEREST

  ----------------------------------------------------------------------
              |              |           |             |  Determination
              |              |           | Height as   |    of height
   Observing  |   Year of    | Distance  | determined  |  with revised
   station.   | observation. | in miles. | by Waugh.   | correction for
              |              |           |             |  refraction.
  ------------+--------------+-----------+-------------+----------------
              |              |           |    Feet     |      Feet
   Jirol      |     1849     |    118    |   28,991    |     29,141
   Mirzapur   |     1849     |    108    |   29,005    |     29,135
   Joafpati   |     1849     |    108    |   29,001    |     29,117
   Ladnia     |     1849     |    108    |   28,998    |     29,144
   Harpur     |     1849     |    111    |   29,026    |     29,146
   Minai      |     1850     |    113    |   28,990    |     29,160
   Suberkum   |     1881     |     87    |     --      |     29,141
   Suberkum   |     1883     |     87    |     --      |     29,127
   Tiger Hill |     1880     |    107    |     --      |     29,140
   Sandakphu  |     1883     |     89    |     --      |     29,142
   Phallut    |     1902     |     85    |     --      |     29,151
   Senchal    |     1902     |    108    |     --      |     29,134
  ------------+--------------+-----------+-------------+----------------
   Mean       |      --      |     --    |   29,002    |     29,141
  ----------------------------------------------------------------------

The height 29,141 is still, Burrard thinks, too small, as it has yet to
be corrected for the deviations of gravity. But though it is a more
reliable result than 29,002, the latter is still to be retained in maps
and publications of the Survey of India.

As to the name, it was called Everest after the distinguished
Surveyor-General of India under whose direction the triangulation had
been carried out, one result of which was the discovery of the mountain.
From the Indian side and Nepal it is not a conspicuous peak on account
of its lying so far back. No native name for it could be discovered and
Sir Andrew Waugh, the successor of Sir George Everest, called it after
his predecessor. From the Tibetan side it is much more conspicuous and,
as General Bruce stated in his lecture to the Royal Geographical Society
in November 1920, and as Colonel Howard-Bury found in 1921, the Tibetans
call it Chomolungma, which Colonel Howard-Bury translated, the "Goddess
Mother of the Mountains"--a most appropriate name. But the name Mount
Everest is now so firmly established throughout the world that it would
be impossible to change it. It is therefore now definitely adopted.

Now, this mountain so coveted by mountaineers is unfortunately situated
exactly on the border between two of the most secluded countries in the
world--Nepal and Tibet. To reach it the climbers must pass through one
or other of these countries and the difficulty of getting the necessary
permission is what has so far prevented any attempt being made to attack
Mount Everest. But recently access through Tibet has become more
possible, and it so happens that it is on the Tibetan side that the
summit seems most accessible. From the distant views that could be
obtained of it from Sandakphu beyond Darjeeling and from Kampa Dzong in
Tibet, a ridge running from the summit in a northerly direction seemed
to give good promise of access. Major Ryder and Captain Rawling in 1904,
viewing the mountain from a distance of sixty miles almost due north,
thought the mountain might be approached from that direction. At the
same time the Tibetans were distinctly more favourable to travellers
than they had ever been before. The chances therefore of at least
exploring Mount Everest were much more promising, and Major Rawling was
planning an expedition of exploration when the war broke out and he was
killed.

Mr. Douglas Freshfield would certainly have taken the matter up during
his Presidency of the Royal Geographical Society, but he had the
misfortune to hold that post during the years of the war and no action
was possible. But as soon as the war was over interest in Mount Everest
revived. In March 1919 Captain J. B. L. Noel read a paper to the Royal
Geographical Society describing a reconnaissance he had made in the
direction of the mountain in the year 1913. He showed how attention
during the last few years had been focused more and more upon the
Himalaya and said, "Now that the Poles have been reached, it is
generally felt that the next and equally important task is the
exploration and mapping of Mount Everest." So he urged that the
exploration which had been the ambition of the late General Rawling with
whom he was to have joined should be accomplished in his memory. "It
cannot be long," he continued, "before the culminating summit of the
world is visited and its ridges, valleys and glaciers are mapped and
photographed." And at the conclusion of his lecture he said that "some
day the political difficulties will be overcome and a fully equipped
expedition must explore and map Mount Everest."

It was not clear whether Captain Noel was advocating a definite attempt
to climb the mountain and reach the actual summit, and Mr. Douglas
Freshfield and Dr. Kellas who followed after him referred only to the
approaches to Mount Everest. But Captain J. P. Farrar, the then
President of the Alpine Club, seems to have considered it "a proposal to
attempt the ascent of Mount Everest," and said that the Alpine Club took
the keenest interest in the proposal and was prepared not only to lend
such financial aid as was in its power, but also to recommend two or
three young mountaineers quite capable of dealing with any purely
mountaineering difficulties which were likely to be met with on Mount
Everest.

The hour was late, but I was so struck by the ring of assurance and
determination in the words of the President of the Alpine Club that I
could not help asking the President, Sir Thomas Holdich, to let me say a
few words. I then told how General Bruce had made to me, twenty-six
years ago, the proposal to climb Mount Everest. I said the Royal
Geographical Society was interested in the project and now we had heard
the President of the Alpine Club say that he had young mountaineers
ready to undertake the work. I added, "It must be done." There might be
one or two attempts before we were successful, but the first thing to do
was to get over the trouble with our own Government. If they were
approached properly by Societies like the Royal Geographical Society and
the Alpine Club, and a reasonable scheme were put before them and it
were proved to them that we meant business, then, I said, they would be
reasonable and do what we wanted. This was a big business and must be
done in a big way and I hoped that something really serious would come
of that meeting.[1]

  [1] In the enthusiasm of the moment I seem to have displayed a
      regrettable excess of "nationalism"! According to the record,
      I expressed the hope that it would be an Englishman who first
      stood on the summit of Mount Everest. I trust my foreign friends
      will excuse me! I have this at least to plead in extenuation,
      that if I have always striven for my own countrymen when they
      led the way, I have never been backward in helping explorers of
      other nationalities whom I have met in the Himalaya; and I have
      received the thanks of both the French and Italian Governments
      for the help I have given to French and Italian explorers.

Sir Thomas Holdich in closing the meeting advocated approaching Mount
Everest through Nepal, and hoped that at some time not very remote we
should hear more about the proposed expedition to Mount Everest.

Only a few days after the meeting I met Colonel Howard-Bury at lunch
with a Fellow of our Society, Mr. C. P. McCarthy. He was not a
mountaineer in the Alpine Club sense of the word, but he had spent much
of his time shooting in the Alps and in the Himalaya, and becoming
deeply interested in the Mount Everest project, had a talk with
Mr. Freshfield about it and made a formal application to the Society for
their support in undertaking an expedition. Things now began to move,
and the Society applied to the India Office for permission to send an
expedition into Tibet for the purpose of exploring Mount Everest. The
Government of India in reply said that they were not prepared at the
moment to approach the Tibetan Government; but they did not return any
absolute refusal.

During my Presidency the Society, in conjunction with the Alpine Club,
still further pressed the matter. We asked the Secretary of State for
India to receive a deputation from the two bodies, and the request being
granted and the deputation being assured of his sympathy we invited
Colonel Howard-Bury to proceed to India in June 1920 to explain our
wishes personally to the Government of India, and ask them to obtain for
us from the Dalai Lama the necessary permission to enter Tibet for the
purpose of exploring and climbing Mount Everest. Lord Chelmsford, the
Viceroy, received Colonel Howard-Bury most sympathetically and after
some preliminary difficulties had been overcome, Mr. Bell, the Political
Agent in Sikkim, who happened to be in Lhasa, was instructed to ask the
Dalai Lama for permission, and Mr. Bell being on most friendly terms
with His Holiness, permission was at once granted.

The one great obstacle in the way of approaching Mount Everest had now
at last been removed. What so many keen mountaineers had for years
dreamed of was within sight. And as soon as the welcome news
arrived--early in January 1921--preparations were commenced to organise
an expedition. A joint Committee of three representatives each from the
Royal Geographical Society and the Alpine Club was formed under the
Chairmanship of the President of the former Society and was named the
Mount Everest Committee. The three members of the Society were Sir
Francis Younghusband, Mr. E. L. Somers-Cocks (Honorary Treasurer) and
Colonel Jack. The three members of the Alpine Club were Professor Norman
Collie, Captain J. P. Farrar and Mr. C. F. Meade. Mr. Eaton and
Mr. Hinks were Honorary Secretaries.

Our first business was to select a leader for the Expedition. General
Bruce, who had had the idea in his mind for so many years, who knew the
Himalaya as no one else did, and who had a special aptitude for handling
Himalayan people, was now in England, and it was to him our thoughts
first turned. But he had just taken up an appointment with the
Glamorganshire Territorial Association and was not then available. In
these circumstances we were fortunate in having ready to hand a man with
such high qualifications as Colonel Howard-Bury. He had much to do on
his property in Ireland, but he willingly accepted our invitation to
lead the Expedition, and we could then proceed to the choice of the
mountaineers.

From the very first we decided that the main object of the Expedition
was to be the ascent of the mountain and that all other activities were
to be made subordinate to the supreme object of reaching the summit. It
was to be no mere surveying or geologising or botanising expedition
which would as a secondary object try to climb the mountain if it saw a
chance. To climb the mountain was to be the first object and the mapping
and everything else was to come afterwards. The reason for this is
obvious. What men really want to know is whether man can ascend the
highest mountain.

Knowledge of the topography, fauna and flora of that particular area is
of very small consequence in comparison with the knowledge of human
capacity to surmount the highest point in men's physical surroundings on
this earth. By some perversity of human nature there are men who shy at
putting the ascent of Mount Everest in the forefront, because it is
adventurous and must therefore, they seem to think, cease to be a
scientific object. They profess to be unconcerned with the climbing of
the mountain so long as a map is made or plants collected. But the
plain man instinctively sees the value of the adventure and knows that
the successful ascent of Mount Everest will show what man is capable of
and put new hope and heart into the human race.

But while it was decided to make the ascent of Mount Everest the main
object of the Expedition, Professor Norman Collie and Mr. Douglas
Freshfield from the first insisted that a whole season must be devoted
to a thorough reconnaissance of the mountain with a view to finding not
only a feasible route to the summit but what was without any doubt the
most feasible route. We knew nothing of the immediate approaches to the
mountain. But we knew that the only chance of reaching the summit was by
finding some way up which would entail little rock-climbing or ice
step-cutting. The mountain had therefore to be prospected from every
side to find a comparatively easy route and to make sure that no other
easier route than the one selected existed. This was considered ample
work for the Expedition for one season, while the following season would
be devoted to an all-out effort to reach the summit along the route
selected in the first year.

On this basis the first year's Expedition had accordingly to be
organised. The mountain party was to consist of four members, two of
whom were to be men of considerable experience and two younger men who
it was hoped would form the nucleus of the climbing party the next year.
Mr. Harold Raeburn, a member of the Alpine Club who had had great
experience of snow and rock work in the Alps, and who had in 1920 been
climbing on the spurs of Kanchenjunga, was invited to lead the mountain
party. Dr. Kellas, who had made several climbing expeditions in the
Himalaya and had in 1920 ascended to a height of 23,400 feet on Mount
Kamet, was also invited to join the climbing party. He had been making
experiments in the use of oxygen at high altitudes and was still out in
India preparing to continue these experiments on Mount Kamet in 1921.
It was suggested to him that he should make the experiments on Mount
Everest instead, and the party would thereby have the benefit of his
wide Himalayan experience. This invitation he accepted.

The two younger members selected for the climbing party were Mr. George
Leigh Mallory and Captain George Finch, both with a very high reputation
for climbing in the Alps. Unfortunately Captain Finch was for the time
indisposed and his place at the last moment had to be taken by
Mr. Bullock of the Consular Service, who had been at Winchester with
Mr. Mallory and who happened to be at home on leave. Through the
courtesy of Lord Curzon he was able to get special leave of absence from
the Foreign Office.

While we were finding the men we had also to be finding the money. As a
quite rough guess we estimated the Expedition for the two years would
cost about £10,000, and at least a substantial portion of this had to be
raised by private subscription. Appeals were made by their Presidents to
the Fellows of the Royal Geographical Society and to members of the
Alpine Club, and Captain Farrar was especially energetic in urging the
claims of the enterprise. As a result the members of the Alpine Club
subscribed over £3,000 and the Fellows of the Royal Geographical Society
nearly that amount. Later on with the advice and help of Mr. John Buchan
arrangements were made with _The Times_ and the _Philadelphia Ledger_
for the purchase of the rights of publication of telegrams from the
Expedition, and with the _Graphic_ for the purchase of photographs. So
eventually the financial position of the Expedition was assured.

The equipment and provisioning of the Expedition was undertaken by the
Equipment Committee--Captain Farrar and Mr. Meade--and the greatest
trouble was taken to ensure that the most suitable and best tents,
sleeping bags, clothing, boots, ice-axes, ropes, cooking apparatus,
provisions, etc., were purchased and that they were properly packed and
listed.

In the same way the scientific equipment was undertaken by Colonel Jack
and Mr. Hinks.

Finally the services of Mr. Wollaston, well known for his journeys in
New Guinea and East Africa, were secured as Medical Officer and
Naturalist to the Expedition.

Throughout these preparations the advice and help of the best men in
every line were freely and willingly forthcoming. For such an enterprise
all were ready to give a helping hand. Whether they were scientific men,
or business men or journalists, they were ready to throw aside their own
work and devote hours to ensuring that the Expedition should be a
success along the lines on which they severally had most experience.

And most valuable was the encouragement given to the Expedition by the
interest which His Majesty showed in conversation with the President,
and His Royal Highness the Prince of Wales in receiving Colonel
Howard-Bury--an interest which was shown in practical form by generous
subscriptions to the funds of the Expedition.

The Expedition was able, therefore, to set out from England under the
most favourable auspices, and it was to be joined in India by two
officers of the Indian Survey Department, Major Morshead and Major
Wheeler, and by an officer of the Indian Geological Survey, Dr. Heron.
It was thus admirably equipped for the acquirement of knowledge. But
acquirement of knowledge was not the only object which the Expedition
had in view. It could not be doubted that the region would possess
beauty of exceptional grandeur. So it was hoped that the Expedition
would discover, describe and reveal to us, by camera and by pen, beauty
no less valuable than the knowledge.

                      THE NARRATIVE OF THE EXPEDITION

                                    By

                   LIEUT.-COL. C. K. HOWARD-BURY, D.S.O.

                                 CHAPTER I

                      FROM DARJEELING THROUGH SIKKIM

Early in May most of the members of the Expedition had assembled at
Darjeeling. Mr. Raeburn had been the first to arrive there in order to
collect as many coolies of the right type as he could. I had come out a
few weeks earlier in order to visit the Indian Authorities at Simla and
to make sure that there were no political difficulties in the way. There
I found every one very kind and helpful and all were anxious to do their
best to assist the Expedition. Owing to the heavy deficit in the Indian
Budget, the expenses of every Department had been rigorously cut down,
and the Government of India were unable to give us financial assistance.
They agreed, however, to take upon themselves the whole of the expenses
of the survey, and to lend the Expedition the services of an officer of
the Geological Department. The Viceroy, Lord Reading, who, together with
Lady Reading, took the greatest interest in the Expedition, kindly gave
us a subscription of 750 rupees, and at Darjeeling the Governor of
Bengal, Lord Ronaldshay, had not only put up several members of the
Expedition at his most comfortable house, but had also given the
Expedition several rooms in which to collect their stores for separation
and division into loads. Local stores, such as tea, sugar, flour and
potatoes had to be bought on the spot. Coolies had to be collected and
arrangements made for fitting them out with boots and warm clothing. The
coolies were to receive pay at the rate of 12 annas per day while in
Sikkim, and when in Tibet were to receive another 6 annas per day,
either in cash or the equivalent in rations. The former proved the most
acceptable eventually, except during the period when the coolies were
up on the glaciers, where there were no villages and consequently
nothing could be bought.

A passport had been sent to us by the Government at Lhasa under the seal
of the Prime Minister of Tibet, of which the following is a
translation:--

  _To_
    _The Jongpens and Headmen of Pharijong, Ting-ke, Khamba and Kharta._

  You are to bear in mind that a party of Sahibs are coming to see the
  Chha-mo-lung-ma mountain and they will evince great friendship towards
  the Tibetans. On the request of the Great Minister Bell a passport
  has been issued requiring you and all officials and subjects of the
  Tibetan Government to supply transport, e.g. riding ponies, pack
  animals and coolies as required by the Sahibs, the rates for which
  should be fixed to mutual satisfaction. Any other assistance that
  the Sahibs may require either by day or by night, on the march or
  during halts, should be faithfully given, and their requirements
  about transport or anything else should be promptly attended to. All
  the people of the country, wherever the Sahibs may happen to come,
  should render all necessary assistance in the best possible way, in
  order to maintain friendly relations between the British and Tibetan
  Governments.

  Dispatched during the Iron-Bird Year.
  Seal of the Prime Minister.

Our start had been originally arranged for the middle of May, but the
"Hatarana," in which were most of our stores, was unable to obtain a
berth, as accommodation in the Docks at Calcutta was very insufficient
for the large number of steamers that call there; she had therefore to
lie out in the Hoogly for a fortnight before she could get room in the
Docks. However, by May 11 everything was unloaded at Calcutta. The
Darjeeling-Himalayan Railway had generously given the Expedition a free
pass over their line for all stores and goods, and as the Customs had
granted a free entry into the country, everything was up in Darjeeling
by May 14. The time of waiting at Darjeeling had, however, not been
wasted. Four cooks had been engaged for the Expedition and some forty
coolies. These were Sherpa Bhotias, whose homes were in the North-east
corner of Nepal, some of them coming from villages only a few miles to
the South of Mount Everest. They were an especially hardy type of
coolie, accustomed to living in a cold climate and at great heights.
They were Buddhists by religion and therefore had no caste prejudices
about food, and could eat anything. They proved at times quarrelsome and
rather fond of strong drink; they turned out, however, to be a useful
and capable type of man, easily trained in snow and ice work and not
afraid of the snow. We later on picked up a few Tibetan coolies in the
Chumbi Valley and these proved to be as good as the best of the Sherpas.
They were very hardy and got on well with the Tibetans, who were always
rather suspicious of our Nepalese coolies. They were also less
troublesome to manage and could carry heavy loads at great heights.
These coolies had all to be fitted with boots and very difficult this
sometimes proved to be, as often their feet were almost as broad as they
were long. Blankets, cap comforters, fur gloves and warm clothing were
issued to all of them, and for those who had to sleep at the highest
camps, eiderdown sleeping-bags were also taken. Arrangements had also to
be made for interpreters to accompany the Expedition, as with the
exception of Major Morshead, who knew a little Tibetan, no one was able
to speak the language. It was a matter of great importance to get hold
of the right type of man as interpreter. It was essential to find men of
some position and standing who knew not only the Tibetan language, but
also all their ways and customs. After many names had been suggested, we
were very lucky in getting hold of two men who possessed these
qualifications to a great extent. Gyalzen Kazi, who came from Gangtok in
Sikkim, where he was a Kazi and landowner, was a young and ambitious man
who knew the Tibetan language well and was well read in their sacred
writings and scriptures. The other one, Chheten Wangdi, was a Tibetan
who had been for a time a captain in the Tibetan army, and who had left
them and been attached to the Indian army in Egypt during the war. He
was a most energetic, hard-working man, knew all the Tibetan manners and
customs, and was up to all their tricks of procrastination and attempts
at overcharging. By his knowledge and persuasive powers the Expedition
was saved many thousand rupees.

The Expedition when it left Darjeeling included nine Europeans. The
Alpine climbers were Mr. Harold Raeburn, Dr. A. M. Kellas, Mr. G. L.
Mallory and Mr. C. H. Bullock. Dr. Kellas had unfortunately in the early
spring of this year tried his constitution very severely by climbing
Narsing,[2] and he had also spent several nights at very low
temperatures in camps over 20,000 feet, on the slopes of Kabru,[2] so
that when he arrived at Darjeeling a few days before the Expedition was
due to start, he was not in as fit a condition as he should have been.
The two Surveyors were Major H. T. Morshead, D.S.O., and Major O. E.
Wheeler, M.C. These officers had been lent by the Survey of India. Major
Morshead had already a considerable experience of travelling in the
Eastern borders of Tibet and in the Kham country, where he had carried
out some useful survey work, and under him were three native surveyors,
one of whom was left in Sikkim to revise the existing maps, which were
very inaccurate, while the other two, Gujjar Singh and Lalbir Singh,
accompanied the Expedition and filled in all the details of the country
traversed on their plane tables at a scale of 4 miles to the inch. Major
O. E. Wheeler, the other Surveyor, was a member of the Canadian Alpine
Club and a very keen climber himself. He was an expert in the Canadian
system of Photo Survey--a method especially useful and applicable to a
difficult and mountainous country. The Indian Government had also lent
the Expedition the services of Dr. A. M. Heron, of the Geological Survey
of India, in order to study the geology of the country through which it
was about to go, and about which nothing was known, and to investigate
the problems which surround the age and the structure of the Himalayan
range. Besides these, there was Mr. A. F. Wollaston, a member of the
Alpine Club and a very distinguished traveller as well, who had made
some most interesting journeys around Ruwenzori in Africa and in the
interior of New Guinea. He accompanied the Expedition in the capacity of
Doctor, Naturalist and Botanist, and was equipped with a complete
collector's outfit.

  [2] Narsing and Kabru are two high mountains in the North of Sikkim.

During our time of enforced waiting at Darjeeling, we came in for the
Lebong races--a unique and very amusing entertainment. The course is a
small circular one, where the top of the Lebong spur has been levelled,
and only genuine Tibetan and Bhotia ponies are allowed to race there.
There were always large entries for these races, as they were very
popular among the hill-folk, who flocked into Darjeeling from great
distances, dressed in their finest clothes and with their women covered
with jewellery and wearing clothing of brilliant shades of green and
red. There was very heavy betting on each race, and the amount of money
that the coolies, sirdars or servants were able to put up was
astonishing. In most of the races there was at least a field of ten,
which made the start a very amusing affair. The jockeys were all
hill-boys, and as they and the ponies were up to every dodge and trick,
and were equally anxious to get off first, and as most of the ponies had
mouths of iron, it was always a long time before a start could be made,
and in nearly every race one or more of the ponies would run out of the
course at the point nearest its own home.

On May 13 Major Morshead with his assistant surveyors and fifty coolies
left Darjeeling for Khamba Dzong. They went the direct road up the
Teesta Valley correcting the Sikkim map as they went along. Their object
in going this way was to connect the Indian Survey with the new survey
that it was proposed to carry out in Tibet. This would occupy all Major
Morshead's time until we should be able to join him at Khamba Dzong in
June.

The chief transport of the Expedition consisted of 100 mules belonging
to the Supply and Transport Corps and lent to us by the
Commander-in-Chief. These arrived at Darjeeling a few days before we
were due to start and were camped in the open on the old parade ground
at the top of Katapahar. Sub-Conductor Taylor, who had already had
experience of mule transport in Tibet in 1904-5, and was to have come in
charge of them, was unfortunately laid up at the last moment with a bad
attack of influenza. The next man chosen was passed medically unfit, and
the third man in temporary charge of the mules was, when he arrived at
Darjeeling, already suffering from ague. It was not till May 15 that
Sergeant Fowkes arrived, who was to take charge of the mules. He was a
very capable and energetic N.C.O., and their subsequent failure was in
no way due to him, but solely to the fact that the mules were in no kind
of condition to do hard work in the hills, being sleek and fat from the
plains where they had had very little work to do. The muleteers, or
drabies, were all hill-men and had been picked out specially for us and
fitted out with every kind of warm clothing. Though there were a hundred
mules, this did not mean that there were a hundred mules to carry our
loads--so much extra warm clothing and blankets had been given to the
drabies that together with all their line gear it needed twenty-seven
mules to carry their kit, which left only seventy-three mules for the
Expedition loads, each mule carrying 160 lb., and this was not nearly
sufficient for our requirements. A certain amount of our stores had
therefore to be left behind at Government House, Darjeeling, for a
second journey, and we only took with us sufficient food and supplies
for three and a half months, relying on the mules going back and
returning with the remainder of the stores in July or August. Owing to
the camping grounds being small, and bungalow accommodation limited on
the journey across Sikkim, we divided ourselves into two parties with
fifty mules and twenty coolies in each party; Wollaston, Wheeler,
Mallory and myself being with the first party and Raeburn, Kellas,
Bullock and Heron with the second.

The first party left Darjeeling on May 18, and the second party the
following day. I remained behind to see the second party off, and then
by doing a double march I caught the first party up that evening at
Kalimpong, not, however, without noticing on the way that several of our
mules were already knocked up. The night before we started rain came
down in torrents, and it was still pouring when the mules came round in
the morning, and though the rain stopped soon afterwards yet the
hillsides were all wreathed in soft grey mists and every moss-hung
branch and tree dripped steadily with moisture all day long. The first
day's march from Darjeeling was to Peshoke--a seventeen-mile march and
down hill all the way after Ghoom. From Darjeeling we gradually ascended
some 500 feet to Ghoom and then for 6 miles followed the well-engineered
cart road which leads below Senchal to the new military cantonment of
Takda which is, I believe, about to be abandoned, as the Gurkhas, for
whom it was built, are not at all happy there. During the war it was
used as a German internment camp. Along this ridge there are magnificent
forests of evergreen oaks, all of which were covered with ferns and
orchids and long trailing mosses. This first ridge rising straight out
of the plains condenses all the moisture-laden winds that blow up from
the Bay of Bengal and causes it almost always to be enveloped in clouds
and mists. The path now rapidly descended 4,000 feet, through tea
plantations. The whole hillside was covered with tea bushes, neatly
planted in lines, and showing a very vivid green at this time of the
year. Here and there grew tall tree ferns, 20 feet to 30 feet in height,
their stems covered with ferns and Coelogene orchids. The air was now
growing hotter and hotter as we descended, but the wonderful and varied
vegetation, the beautiful and brilliantly coloured butterflies--for
which the Teesta Valley is famous--that flitted across the path in front
of us, proved an irresistible attraction, and made us forget the fact
that we were dripping with perspiration from every pore. We had already
descended nearly 5,000 feet by the time that we reached the P.W.D.
bungalow at Peshoke, which was situated in a clearing in the forest. We
were, however, still 2,000 feet above the muddy Teesta River which ran
down below us in its steamy gorge, and the next morning saw us
descending 2,000 feet through a Sal forest by a slippery path of clay
leading to the suspension bridge which crosses the mighty river that
with its affluents drains the whole of Sikkim. It rushes along with
irresistible force in mighty waves and rapids, and though attempts have
been made to float timber down it for commercial purposes, yet the
current is too swift and the logs were all smashed to pieces. Here at
the bridge we were only 700 feet above the sea and the heat was intense.
Several mules had been left exhausted at Peshoke and had been unable to
proceed the following day and several more only just reached Kalimpong,
the second day's march, only 12 miles from Peshoke, but the climb of
3,300 feet up from the bridge over the Teesta in the steamy and
enervating heat proved too much for them. The forests here were very
beautiful--huge sal trees and giant terminalia abounded with weird and
wonderful creepers embracing their stems, or hanging down from their
branches. The handsome pothos--the finest of the creepers--grew
everywhere. The curious pandanus or screw pine displayed its long and
picturesque fronds, while here and there among the dark green of the
tropical forest showed up as a brilliant patch of colour the scarlet
blooms of the clerodendrons. Above the forests the hillsides had been
terraced with immense labour into rice fields, which at this time of
year were not yet planted out, but the fields of maize were already
ripening. At Kalimpong there was a large and comfortable Dak bungalow,
surrounded by a well-kept garden full of roses and scarlet hibiscus with
a beautiful and large-flowered mauve solanum growing up the pillars on
the verandah. At Kalimpong we were entertained by Dr. Graham and his
charming daughters, who showed us true hospitality and kindness. They
live in a very pretty house embowered in roses on the crest of the hill
and commanding lovely views over the Teesta Valley and up to the snowy
peaks of Kanchenjunga. Higher up on the spur are the homes and the
industrial schools that many years of hard work have brought into
being, thanks to the indefatigable labours of Dr. Graham and the late
Mrs. Graham; these now hold between 600 and 700 pupils, both boys and
girls, who, when they leave these schools, have all been taught some
useful trade and are sent out as useful members of society. They are
given as practical an education as could be wished for anywhere. At the
Grahams' house I met David Macdonald, the British Trade Agent at Yatung,
who was acting temporarily as political agent in Sikkim until Major
Bailey arrived from England. He was an old friend of mine, as I had met
him before in Tibet. He promised us every assistance in his power and
had telegraphed to Yatung and to the Jongpen at Phari to have supplies
and anything we wanted in readiness at those places. He told me that an
old Tibetan Lama, who knew Mount Everest well, had described it as "Miti
guti cha-phu long-nga," "the mountain visible from all directions, and
where a bird becomes blind if it flies so high." Throughout our journey
across Sikkim the weather was very bad, with heavy falls of rain every
day and night. We had had the bad luck to strike the Chota Bursat, or
little monsoon, which usually heralds the coming of the proper monsoon a
fortnight or three weeks later.

The march to Pedong was an easy one of 14 miles with a gentle climb of
3,000 feet followed by a descent of 2,000 feet past gardens beautiful
with their great trees of scarlet hibiscus, daturas and bougainvilleas,
which grew with wonderful luxuriance in this climate where frost is
almost unknown in winter and where in summer the temperature scarcely
ever exceeds 85° Fahrenheit. We passed some of the most wonderful datura
hedges that I have ever seen with trees 15 feet to 20 feet in height and
laden with hundreds of enormous white trumpet-shaped blooms 8 inches in
diameter and fully a foot long. I could only stand and admire. At night
these great white flowers glowed as though with phosphorescence in the
dark and had a strangely sweet smell. I got thoroughly soaked on the
march, for a couple of minutes of these deluges are sufficient to go
through any waterproof.

Our mules were now beginning to give us great trouble. Several had to be
left behind after each march and fresh animals had to be hired locally
to replace those left behind. At Pedong there were more wonderful
daturas, and all along the next march we kept passing grand bushes of
these flowers. It rained all that night and most of the following day,
so that we had a very wet and trying march to Rongli--the distance was
only 12 miles, but this included a very steep descent of over 3,000 feet
to the bottom of a steamy valley, followed by a climb of 3,000 feet
across an intervening ridge and then down another 2,000 feet to the
Rongli bungalow. The poor mules were very tired by the end of the march
and one had died of colic on the way. Most of the others too were
getting very sore backs from the constant rain. On the way Wollaston and
I stopped at Rhenock to have a look at the Chandra Nursery kept by Tulsi
Dass, where there were many interesting plants, chiefly collected in the
Sikkim forests. There was a tree growing everywhere in the forests with
a white flower which Sikkim people called Chilauni, and all along the
paths the Sikkim durbar had been busy planting mulberry, walnut and toon
trees. There was a curious pink ground plant that grew in the forests
which I was told belonged to the Amomum species. There were also
beautiful orchids in the trees, mauve, white and yellow, belonging to
the Dendrobium, Coelogene and Cymbidium families--some with fine sprays
of flowers 18 inches long. Here at Rongli the mules were so tired that
we had to give them a day's rest before they could go on any further. It
was a hot and feverish spot to stop in, and only necessity compelled us
to do so, as we were unable to get any extra transport the following
morning to supplement the mules that were sick.

All that day we had passed numbers of mules coming down from Tibet laden
with bales of wool, and others were returning to Tibet with sheets of
copper, manufactured goods, grain and rice which had been bought in
exchange. The dark faces of the muleteers with their turquoise earrings
formed a pretty picture and they were full of friendly smiles and
greetings for us. The mules travelled on their own--if any mule stopped
on the path, a stone always aimed with the greatest accuracy reminded
him that it was time to go on. Owing to our having to halt a day at
Rongli, we had to stop the second party, and were able to do this at
Ari, a bungalow 3 miles short of Rongli. I rode up to see how they were
getting on, and found they were having the same trouble with their mules
that we had been having. On May 23 we left for Sedongchen, or Padamchen
as the Tibetans called it. Sedongchen is the old local name, so-called
because there once grew there a very large "Sedong" tree. This is a tree
that has a white sap which irritates the skin intensely and sets up a
rash. Sedongchen was only 9 miles from Rongli, but there was a very
steep climb, from 2,700 feet up to 7,000 feet, and our mules only just
managed to arrive there. The first part of the way is alongside the
rushing stream of the Rongli, through lovely woods and dense tropical
vegetation. Caladiums, kolocasias and begonias were growing on every
rock, and the giant pothos with its large shining leaves grew up the
stems of many of the trees. Climbers of all kinds, such as vines and
peppers, hung down from the branches. Here, too, were magnificent forest
trees, fully 150 feet high, with clean straight trunks and without a
branch for a hundred feet; others nearly equally tall, which the Sikkim
people call "Panisage," had huge buttresses and trunks nearly 40 feet in
circumference. Every branch here was covered by thick matted growth of
orchids. For the first time since leaving Darjeeling the sun shone, and
after we left the forests we found the uphill climb very hot. On
to-day's march, out of the fifty mules with which we started there were
only fourteen carrying our own kit, and of those fourteen we found on
arrival at Sedongchen that none would be fit to proceed on the following
day. It was therefore with great reluctance that I felt compelled to
send back the Government mules, as they could not only not carry their
own line gear, but had become an extra and very large source of expense
and worry to us. That the mules should have completely broken down like
this after a five days' march showed that they must have been in no kind
of training and condition and were completely unfitted for heavy work in
the mountains. The hill ponies and mules that we had hired to supplement
them, although they had been given the heaviest loads, always arrived
first, and made nothing of each march. By this failure of the Government
transport we were now thrown back on our own resources, and obliged to
depend everywhere on what local transport we could obtain, and this
often took some time to collect.

At Sedongchen there was a pleasant bungalow, rather Swiss in appearance,
with fine views down the Rongli Valley and across all the forest ridges
over which we had come, right back to Darjeeling. Opposite us, to the
South-east, were densely wooded hills with clouds and mists drifting
along the tops, while here and there a waterfall showed up white amidst
the dark green vegetation.

Rain came down steadily all night, but the morning proved somewhat
finer. Being on the main trade route, we were luckily able to get other
transport to replace the Government mules and to arrange for hired mules
as far as Yatung. The local animal is a wonderful beast, extremely sure
footed, and not minding in the least a climb of 6,000 feet. The path
from Sedongchen is really only a stone causeway, very slippery and
unpleasant either to walk or ride upon, but probably anything else would
be worn away by the torrential rains that fall here. At one place we had
to make a wide detour, as the rain of the night before had washed away
some hundred yards of the pathway, but luckily this was not in a very
steep part, as otherwise we might have been delayed for several days.
The constant rain had already brought out the leeches, and on most of
the stones or blades of grass beside the path they sat waiting for
their meal of blood and clung on to any mule or human being that passed
by. The mules suffered severely, and drops of blood on the stones became
frequent from the bleeding wounds.

The climb from Sedongchen to Gnatong was very steep with a rise of over
5,000 feet in the first 5 miles, and we soon got out of the zone of the
leeches and on to the most wonderful zone of flowering rhododendrons.
The rhododendrons in the lower forest chiefly consisted of _R.
Argenteum_ and _R. Falconeri_. These grew in a great forest of oaks and
magnolias, all covered with beautiful ferns among which showed up
delightful mauve or white orchids. The lower rhododendrons had already
flowered, but as we got higher we found masses of _R. Cinnabarinum_,
with flowers showing every shade of orange and red. Then came
rhododendrons of every colour--pink, deep crimson, yellow, mauve, white
or cream coloured. It was impossible to imagine anything more beautiful,
and every yard of the path was a pure delight. Among the smaller flowers
were the large pink saxifrage, while the deep reddish-purple primula
covered every open space. There was also a very tiny pink primula--the
smallest I have ever seen--and another one like a pink primrose, that
grew on the banks above the path. We went along quite slowly all the
way, botanising and admiring the scenery. The path mostly led along the
top of a ridge, and the views and colours of the many-hued rhododendrons
in the gullies on either side were very delightful. Gnatong, where we
were to spend the night, was a very small and rather dirty village lying
in a hollow and surrounded by grassy hills. The fir trees (_Abies
Webbiana_) no longer surrounded it, as those anywhere near had been cut
down for firewood, or for building houses. From here I was able to
telephone to Mr. Isaacs, Mr. Macdonald's head clerk at Yatung, to ask
him to make arrangements for ponies and mules for us both at Yatung and
at Phari now that our transport had broken down. Wonderful rumours
seemed to have preceded our advent. Stories that we were coming with
1,000 mules and 500 men seemed to have been spread about in Tibet.

Gnatong is a most depressing place, and only owes its existence to the
fact that it is the first stopping place for the caravans that cross
over the Jelep Pass on the British side of the frontier. Rain always
falls there, the rainfall in the year being nearly 200 inches, and when
rain does not fall the place is enveloped in mist, with the result that
the mud was horrible. It poured with rain all the time that we were
there and we left again in heavy rain for the Jelep Pass 8 miles
distant. We were already over 12,000 feet when we started, and the top
of the pass was 14,390 feet, so that it was not a very serious climb.
There was no view of any kind to be had as the rain fell steadily all
the way and the hillsides were all veiled in mist. We had occasional
glimpses of a hillside pink, white or yellow with rhododendrons, which
now grew only about 5 feet high. I counted six or seven different
varieties of primulas on the way, but near the top there was still
plenty of the old winter snow lying about and the Alpine flowers were
scarcely out. A big heap of stones marked the summit of the pass and the
frontier between Sikkim and Tibet, and a few sticks, to which were
attached strings covered with small pieces of rag on which were
inscribed prayers, fluttered out in the strong wind that always blows up
there. In the cold rain this was not a cheerful spot to linger in, so we
hurried on down a steep and stony path and after descending a few
hundred feet emerged out of the mist and rain and obtained glimpses of a
really blue sky such as we had not seen for weeks. We had arrived at
last in Tibet.

                                CHAPTER II

                 THE CHUMBI VALLEY AND THE TIBETAN PLATEAU

The range of mountains which here forms the boundary between Sikkim and
Tibet runs nearly North and South, and the two main passes across it are
the Jelep La and the Nathu La, the latter being a few miles to the North
of the Jelep La and about the same height. The Jelep La being the main
trade route across which the telegraph line runs, and over which the
postal runners travel, is kept open all the year round, though often
after a heavy blizzard it is closed for ten days or a fortnight. On the
Sikkim side the snow-fall is always the heaviest; this range of
mountains stops most of the moist currents that drive up from the Bay of
Bengal, with the result that the rainfall in the Chumbi Valley on the
Tibetan side is only about a quarter of what it is at Gnatong on the
Sikkim side.

The descent into the Chumbi Valley was very steep and stony, as there
was a drop of over 5,000 feet from the top of the pass. The beauty of
the valley and its wild flowers made up, however, for the badness of the
path. The rhododendrons on the descent were extremely fine, and the
whole character of the vegetation was altered and became more European.
The great pink rhododendron _Aucklandi_ showed up splendidly in the dark
forests of silver fir (_A. Webbiana_) which here grows into a fine tree.
There was also the yellow rhododendron Campylocarpum and a white
rhododendron, probably Decorum; the beautiful _R. Cinnabarinum_ with its
orange bells of waxy flowers relieved the darkness of the firs. There
was a small Tibetan rest-house called Langra where our coolies wanted to
stop, but we pushed on past this and descended steeply through more
wonderful forests. As we got lower we found birch, sycamore, willow and
elder still clothed in the light green of early spring. A fine white
clematis, a pink and white spiræa, a yellow berberis, white roses and
the dark purple iris grew in profusion on either side of the path.
Underneath these were the small flowers of the wild strawberry, which
the Macdonald family collected later on in the year and made into jam in
great quantities.

Near the entrance to this side valley we came to Old Yatung with its
Chinese custom-house and wall built right across the valley to keep the
British from going any further. All this was now deserted and in ruins.
Soon afterwards we arrived in the main Chumbi Valley where were broad
fields filled with potatoes and ripening barley. The houses here were
mostly built of stone and wood and in two stories. In character they
much resembled Tirolese houses except for the elaborate carving over the
doors and windows and the many colours in which they were painted. We
passed through the prosperous villages of Richengong, Phema and Chumbi
before arriving at New Yatung, or Shassi as the Tibetans still prefer to
call it. Here was a comfortable bungalow overlooking the bazaar on the
other side of the river. Knowing that we had had a long and tiring march
and that our coolies would only arrive late that night, Mrs. Macdonald
had with much thoughtfulness sent over her servants who had tea and
dinner prepared for us on a generous scale. No attention could have been
more acceptable. It rained steadily all that night--a somewhat unusual
occurrence in this valley--but the next morning it cleared up and the
day was delightful.

The Chumbi Valley is one of the richest valleys in Tibet. Yatung lies at
a height of 9,400 feet. Apples and pears do well here, and barley, wheat
and potatoes are grown in great quantities. At this time of the year the
air is scented by the wild roses which grow in large bushes covered with
hundreds of cream-coloured and sweetly scented flowers. The villages
all look extremely prosperous and an air of peace and contentment seems
to pervade the valley. We had to hire a new lot of animals to take us on
to Phari--28 miles further up the Chumbi Valley. These all arrived in
good time, and by eight o'clock on May 27 our loads were all on their
way. Before leaving, I sent off a telegram to Sir Francis Younghusband
to announce the arrival of the Expedition in Tibet, a telegram which
arrived opportunely at the Anniversary Dinner of the Royal Geographical
Society, just at the commencement of dinner.

There is a small garrison at Yatung, consisting of twenty-five men of
the 73rd Carnatics. There was also a hospital and a supply depot from
which we were able to purchase sugar, flour, ata (coarse native flour)
and potatoes, while later on we were able to send back to it for further
supplies. We formed quite an imposing procession as we started off:
Wollaston and myself on our ponies, Gyalzen Kazi and Chheten Wangdi, our
interpreters, on their ponies which they had brought along with them.
There was Mr. Isaacs, the head clerk, with a red-coated chaprassi and a
syce also mounted, who accompanied us on a visit to two monasteries
further up the valley. The path followed close to the banks of the
Ammo-chu, which was now a clear stream and contained many a likely pool
for fish. The valley was full of delightful flowers; curious ground
orchids, with several beautiful varieties of the ladies' slipper grew
there; the wild roses, especially the large red one, were very
sweet-scented and filled the air with fragrance. Berberis, clematis and
some charming dwarf rhododendrons abounded. After going about 3 miles
the valley narrowed, and we passed the spot where the Chinese had built
another wall across the valley to keep us out. Just above this wall
there was a deserted Chinese village, for now all the Chinese have been
driven out of the country and are not allowed to go back and live there.
High above us on the hillside was the Punagang Monastery belonging to
the old sect of the Bhompo's, who turn their prayer wheels the opposite
to every one else and always keep to the right of Chortens and Mani
walls. This monastery was too far off the path for us to visit it. We
soon afterwards passed the large and flourishing village of Galinka
surrounded by fields of barley. Here we turned aside to visit the
Galinka Monastery, which stood in the midst of the village. This was
quite a new building, with a great gilt image of Buddha inside it. The
monks were still busy painting pictures of scenes from the life of
Buddha on the walls. They apparently did quite a good trade in selling
clay images of Buddha in his different forms and postures. These were
stamped by a very well cut brass die, which the monks told me had been
made at Shigatse. In a side room was a huge prayer wheel some 12 feet
high and 5 feet to 6 feet in diameter. It was covered over with painted
leather inscribed with the usual Om Mani Padme Hum (Hail, jewel of the
lotus flower). They told us the inside was also filled with prayers, and
that it contained one and a half million of these, so that each time the
wheel was turned a million and a half prayers were said for the person
who turned it. After each complete revolution it rings a bell. We were
allowed to turn it several times, so that I hope the many million
prayers sent up may benefit us. After leaving the monastery, the path
rose steeply and the river came down in a series of waterfalls. Above us
were masses of pink and mauve rhododendrons, flowering cherries,
viburnum, berberis, roses and other delightful shrubs. Soon afterwards,
at the entrance to the Lingmatang plain, we crossed the river and rode
up a rocky spur formed of great boulders that had some time or another
fallen down and blocked up the valley, forming a lake some 2 miles long,
but this lake no longer existed, and there was only a flat grassy plain
grazed over by yaks and ponies. On the top of the spur was the Donka
Monastery in a grand situation, commanding beautiful views up and down
the valley. I had hoped to see my friend the Geshe Lama or Geshe
Rimpoche, as he is sometimes known, with whom I had lunched last year at
the hot springs at Kambu, but unfortunately he was away at Lhasa. He is
a man of very great learning and held in high veneration throughout
these valleys.

On entering the big stone courtyard of the monastery a crowd of children
and Lamas at once flocked round us. We were shown over the main temple,
but it was badly lit with a few butter lamps and we could see little of
its contents; amongst these were several statues of Buddha under his
different forms. There were also kept there 108 volumes of the Tangyur,
one of the Buddhist sacred writings. These books were very curious. Each
volume consisted of a number of loose oblong parchment sheets 2 to 3
feet long and from 8 inches to a foot wide. These were kept together by
two elaborately carved boards between which they were pressed. The
writing was all done by hand by the Lamas, who copied out and
illuminated books with the greatest care and skill in the same manner
that the monks in the Middle Ages illuminated their missals. The
book-shelves of the library consisted of a number of pigeon-holes in the
walls in which these volumes were kept. Here, too, they were busy making
clay images to bury under the Chorten that they were building above the
monastery. Next door was another and newer temple, built to house the
Oracle, and called the Sanctuary of the Oracle. He, too, was
unfortunately away, as he was taking the hot waters at Kambu, but we
were shown his throne and the robes that he puts on when he prophesies.
There was a curiously shaped head-dress of silver, adorned all round
with silver skulls, and a very quaintly shaped bow and arrow which the
Oracle held in one hand while a huge trident was grasped in the other. I
am told that he is consulted far and wide and has a great reputation for
truth. We were then taken upstairs to a sunny verandah, just outside the
Geshe Rimpoche's private room and commanding fine views up and down the
valley. Here we were given Tibetan tea, made with salt and butter, and
served up in agate cups with beautifully chased silver covers. After
drinking this tea we were shown over the Geshe's private apartments and
chapel, the prevailing colour scheme of the room being yellow. The
little shrines with their silver bowls in front--the incense burner and
the flame that is never allowed to go out--were all very interesting to
us. We then took a photograph of the Lamas in front of their temple,
after which the head Lama accompanied us some way down the path to say
good-bye, hoping we would come and see them again on our return.

I have alluded several times to the hot springs at Kambu. These springs
are two days' journey from Yatung up the Kambu Valley, but can also be
reached quite easily from Phari. There is a curious account of these
springs written by an old Lama and translated by Major Campbell. The
writer describes the Upper Kambu Valley as quite a pleasant spot where
cooling streams and medicinal plants are found in abundance. Medicinal
waters of five kinds flow from the rocks, forming twelve pools, the
waters of which are efficacious in curing the 440 diseases to which the
human race is subject. The springs are then made to describe their own
qualities in the first person:--

  1. THE LHAMO SPRING (The Spring of the Goddess): My virtue is derived
  from the essence of stone--I am guarded by the Goddess Tsering, and my
  virtue therefore consists in purging the sins and obscurities of the
  human body. Those who bathe first in my waters will be purged of all
  sin and the power of all diseases will be abated.

  2. THE CHAGU SPRING (The Spring of the Vulture): My virtue is derived
  from black sulphur. As regards my properties, a vulture with a broken
  wing once fell into my waters and was healed. I benefit diseases of
  women, also sores, gout and fractures. I possess particular virtue for
  all diseases below the waist. I do not benefit neuralgia, nervous
  diseases, or loss of appetite.

  3 and 4. THE PON SPRINGS (The Springs of the Official): We two
  brothers derive our properties from both yellow and black sulphur.
  One of us provokes catarrh, while the other allays it. A learned man,
  who wished us well, once said that we were beneficial in cases of
  hemorrhoids, kidney diseases and rheumatism. We are not aware of
  possessing these qualities, and rather tend to cause harm in such
  cases.

  5. THE TRAGGYE SPRING (The Spring born of the Rock): My virtue is
  derived from a combination of sulphur and the essence of stone. I was
  formerly efficacious in cases of diseases of the arteries and nerve
  trouble, but later on the Brothers of the Pon Spring rushed down on
  poor me like tyrants so that no one now regards me. The caretaker of
  the Springs and visitors treats me like a beggar and pays no attention
  to me. Even now if some person with the permission of the Brothers of
  the Pon Spring would carry out some repairs, so as to separate my
  waters from theirs, I would guarantee to benefit those suffering from
  arterial diseases, nerve trouble, impurities of the blood and bile.

  6. THE SERKA SPRING (The Spring of the Crevice): My virtues are
  derived from sulphur and carbon. I am not beneficial to those
  suffering from ailments arising from nerve trouble, bile and acidity.
  I am beneficial to those suffering from chapped hands and feet due to
  hard work among earth and stones and also in cases of diseases of the
  kidneys and bladder. I am somewhat hurtful to those suffering from
  headache arising from nervous catarrh, or impurities of the blood.

  7. THE TANG SPRING (The Spring of the Plain): My virtues are derived
  from carbon and a little sulphur. I am beneficial in cases of
  hemorrhoids, kidney disease, rheumatism and other diseases below the
  waist, also in cases of venereal disease. There is a danger of the
  waist becoming bent like a bow through too much bathing in my waters.

  8. THE TRAGGYAB SPRING (The Spring behind the Rock): I am beneficial
  in cases of disease of the arteries and anaemia--I am not aware that
  I am harmful in other cases.

  9. THE TONGBU SPRING (The Spring of the Hole): My virtues are derived
  from a large proportion of crystalline stone and a little sulphur. I
  guarantee to be beneficial in cases of white phlegm, brown phlegm and
  other forms of phlegmatic disease. Also in diseases arising out of
  these, and in cases of impurities of the blood and colic pains. Please
  bear this in mind.

  10. THE NUB (The Western Spring): My virtues are derived from a little
  carbon. I am beneficial in cases of liver disease, impurities of the
  blood, flatulence, kidney disease, dyspepsia, brown phlegm, tumours,
  gout, rheumatism, gleet, and complications arising from these. I do not
  boast in the way that the other Springs do.

  11. THE DZEPO SPRING (The Leper's Spring): I am cousin to the Western
  Spring. He guarantees to cure diseases arising from two or three causes,
  also kidney disease, flat foot, rheumatism and gout. I am beneficial in
  cases of hemorrhoids, gout, rheumatism and diseases of the feet. I
  possess particular virtue in cases of leprosy, sores and wounds.

  12. THE LAMA SPRING (The Spring of the Lama): My virtues are derived
  from a large proportion of lime and a little sulphur. I am beneficial
  in cases of lung disease, tumours, dyspepsia, both chronic and recent,
  poverty of the blood and venereal diseases.

    WRITTEN BY TSEWANG IN THE HOPE THAT THE PEOPLE OF BHUTAN, SIKKIM AND
        THE SURROUNDING COUNTRY WILL BEAR THIS IN MIND.

    COPIED BY TENRAB, CLEARLY AND EXACTLY, FROM THE ORIGINAL IN THE MALE
        IRON DOG YEAR IN THE FIRST HALF OF THE EARTH MONTH.

After leaving the monastery we had a pleasant gallop across the
Lingmatang Plain, after which the valley narrowed again and the path
followed close beside the rushing stream. It was a delightful ride
through forests of birch, larch, juniper, spruce, silver fir and
mountain ash. Never anywhere have I seen birch trees grow to such a
size. They were grand rugged old trees that matched the rugged scenery
of the gorge. Blue poppies, fritillaries, ground orchids and
sweet-scented primulas grew along the path, and mixed up everywhere in
the forest were great bushes of _R. Cinnabarinum_, which varied in shade
from yellow and orange to deep red. Wagtails and white-crested redstarts
dodged about from rock to rock in the rushing stream, and the clear note
of the shrike could usually be heard above the noise of the waters. The
weather had luckily kept fine all day, so that we were able to dawdle
along and enjoy the scenery and flowers.

After going about 12 miles we came to the bungalow of Gautsa, situated
at a height of about 12,000 feet, and at the bottom of the gorge; here
we spent the night. During the night there was heavy rain, and when we
woke in the morning, fresh snow was low down on all the hills and within
1,500 feet of the bungalow. However, the day again proved brilliantly
fine. For breakfast we had been given some large wild-goose eggs
belonging to the bar-headed goose. Mine I had boiled, and found
excellent, though one was sufficient for a meal. Two that the others had
were rather _passé_, and were not equally appreciated. The day's path
was at first very stony and climbed steadily uphill beside the torrent
of the Ammo-chu. Pale blue iris, yellow primulas, a pink viburnum and a
large yellow-belled lonicera grew beside the path, but the rhododendrons
were still by far the most wonderful of the flowering shrubs. We passed
many big blue meconopsis, and some of these flowers measured fully 3
inches across. Dwarf rhododendrons, only a foot high--some pure white
and others pink, continued up until about 13,500 feet, and then the
hillsides became purple from another little rhododendron, which looked
in the distance like heather and gave the rounded hills quite a Scotch
appearance. As we rose higher the flowers decreased in number. Larks and
wheatears ran along the ground in front of us, and small tailless marmot
rats dodged in and out of their holes as we approached. The distance
from Goutsa to Phari was about 16 miles, of which the last 8 miles were
over flat country with a springy turf, on which it was a pleasure to be
able to canter again after having passed over so many miles of stony
roads. Chomolhari, the Mountain of the Goddess, stood up as a wonderful
sight with its sharp peak outlined against the clear blue sky. On its
summit the wind was evidently very strong, as we could see the fresh
snow being whirled off in clouds.

Phari is an extremely dirty village dominated by a stone fort and lying
under the shadow of the great mountain Chomolhari, 23,930 feet high. It
is 14,300 feet above sea level, and the climate there is always cold, as
it is never without a strong wind. In the afternoon the Jongpen, or
Governor of the district, came to call on me. He was a young man with an
intelligent and pleasant face, and came from the country between Khamba
Dzong and Shekar Dzong, so that he was able to give us much useful
information about the road; he promised that he would write to his
brother, who was acting as agent for him at his home, telling him to
entertain us and give us all facilities in the matters of transport and
supplies. He told us that he had received written instructions from the
Lhasa Government to arrange for supplies and transport for us, and he
promised that he would do his best. I gave him photographs that I had
taken last year of his fort, and also of Chomolhari; these pleased him
very much, and in return he presented us with a dried sheep which looked
mummified and smelt very strongly, but which proved very acceptable to
our coolies. It was necessary to stop here for several days as the
second party had to catch up, and they too needed a day's rest. Also the
transport that was to carry us along to Khamba Dzong would not be ready
for several days, so the following morning I went to call on the
Jongpen in his fort, where I found him living in some very dark rooms. I
presented him with one of the new lever electric torches, which he much
appreciated, though at first he and his servants were rather frightened
by it. He gave us tea and sweetmeats, and soon afterwards the head-men
of all the villages came in, and were given orders about our transport.
Their quaint attitudes of respect and their darkly bronzed faces, that
just showed up in the light, reminded me forcibly of an old Dutch
picture. Some men, too, had been sent from Khamba Dzong for orders and
to know when we should be likely to arrive there. In the course of the
afternoon Dr. Heron and I rode over to a monastery about 3 miles away
where I had been last year, and where I had taken some photographs. Some
prints of these I brought back to the monastery, and the monks were very
pleased with them. They were in the middle of a service when we arrived,
as it was some kind of festival, and the dark temple was illuminated by
hundreds of little butter lamps. The monks were all chanting their
scriptures, and this they continued to do all the afternoon.

On returning to Phari, we found that a message had come from the Jongpen
to ask us to dine with him the following evening. The change in the
climate and the bad cooking had affected the stomachs of all the members
of the Expedition, and none of us was feeling very well. Dr. Kellas was
the worst, and as soon as he arrived at Phari he retired to bed. The
following morning was misty and the ground was all white with
hoar-frost, though it was the last day in May; but as I was anxious to
get some photographs of Chomolhari we rode, with the Chaukidar as a
guide, through the mist across the plain to some hills just to the South
of the great mountain; after a few miles we found ourselves above the
clouds with the sun shining in a brilliant blue sky. The whole of the
Phari Plain was covered by a sea of clouds. On the far side rose the
Pawhunri group of mountains, while further to the South, Kanchenjunga
towered above all the other peaks, such as Siniolchum, Kabru and
Jonsong, all of which stood out very clearly in this brilliant
atmosphere. I rode up a delightful little mountain valley full of dwarf
rhododendrons and Alpine primulas until I reached a height of 16,000
feet. We then left the ponies and climbed on to the top of the hill,
which was about 17,500 feet; from this point we had glorious views of
Chomolhari immediately across the valley, while on the other side we
looked over to the snowy peaks and ranges in Bhutan far to the South of
us. We found the wind very keen at this height, and after taking several
photographs we rode back again to Phari.

[Illustration: CHOMOLHARI FROM THE SOUTH.]

Here I found the place full of troubles. Our Coolie Sirdar was, as we
were beginning to find out, not only useless, but very mischievous, and
he was evidently at the bottom of an attempted mutiny among our coolies,
who refused to go on. The Sirdar strongly objected to our interpreters,
who were preventing him from fleecing us in the matter of stores and
supplies. However, after much talking they were all satisfied. Then it
was the turn of the cooks, all of whom the Sirdar had chosen. I should
not have minded one or two of these going, as they were very bad cooks
and usually drunk, and the fact that all of us had been ill was solely
due to their bad cooking; but I could not let them all go, so it was
necessary to find out which were the most useless, and this we were able
to do in the course of the next few days. Dr. Kellas was getting no
better; he refused to take any food, and was very depressed about
himself. At Phari I was able to change a certain number of our rupees
into Tibetan currency. The then rate of exchange was 33 rupees to 1
sersang--a gold coin--and 4½ silver trangkas to 1 rupee. The trangkas
were a thin and very badly stamped coin about the size of a two-shilling
piece. We found them, however, to be the most useful form of currency as
the gold coin, though much easier to carry, could only be exchanged at a
few places, and it was seldom that we met people who were rich enough to
be able to change them.

That night four of us went over to have dinner with the Jongpen. First
we were given tea and sweetmeats, followed by strong ginger wine, which
was most comforting to our stomachs in their delicate condition. Then
came dishes of mutton in varying forms with vegetables and macaroni.
They were all served up in Chinese fashion in little dishes and some
were quite appetising. We were very late in starting the next morning as
all the loads had to be sorted and laid out for the very miscellaneous
transport that had been given us. This consisted of ponies, mules,
donkeys, bullocks and yaks. For riding-animals we were given mules,
which trotted well and covered the ground quite quickly, though some of
the Alpine climbers found them hard to manage and were apt to part
company with their steeds. Our transport was by now becoming rather
complicated as forty-four animals were going right through to Khamba
Dzong and forty-four were being changed at every stage. Dr. Kellas was
not well enough to ride and was carried in an arm-chair all day. Soon
after starting I passed two of our cooks on the road hopelessly drunk,
and left them there. Our way led over the Tang La, a very gentle and
scarcely perceptible pass, 15,200 feet, but important as being the main
Himalayan watershed. All day there was a very strong South wind blowing,
but it was luckily at our backs, and we did not feel it too much. We
then quickly trotted the 10 miles across the absolutely level
Tang-pün-sum Plain. Here I saw several herds of kiang, the wild ass of
Tibet, and got within 50 yards of one lot, but unfortunately the coolie
who was carrying my camera was not up with me at the time. We also
passed a certain number of Tibetan gazelle, but they were all very wary.
The Monsoon clouds came up to the South of us in great rolling billows,
but not a drop of moisture came over the Tang La. Chomolhari was a
magnificent sight all day with its 7,000 feet of precipices descending
sheer into the plain. Tuna (14,800 feet), about 20 miles from Phari, was
our first halt. We were still on the main road to Lhasa and found a
comfortable rest-house into which the eight of us all managed to stow
ourselves. Dr. Kellas, though rather better the next day, was still too
weak to ride, and was carried for the next march on a litter. We were
now in the true Tibetan climate, with brilliant sunshine, blue skies,
still mornings and strong winds all the afternoon.

The next march from Tuna to Dochen was still on the Lhasa Road. I did
not follow the path, but rode with a local man from the village over the
great Tang-pün-sum Plain in search of goa--Tibetan gazelle. We saw many
of them on the plains, but they were the wiliest and most difficult
animals to approach, and in this flat and bare country it was not
possible ever to get within 300 yards of them. As a rule they ran off
when we were still half a mile away. They are restless little creatures,
always on the move, and never at any time an easy mark to hit. I
thoroughly enjoyed this ride over the plains and our glorious views of
Chomolhari and the great snow-covered and glaciated chain to the North
of it along the foot of which we were travelling. A curious pink
trumpet-shaped flower grew in great quantities on the plain; the leaves
were buried under the sand and only the flower showed its head above the
ground. There were also white pincushions of a kind of tiny saxifrage.
This plain, over which we were riding, was evidently once upon a time a
lake bed, as the pebbles were rounded and there were distinct evidences
of former shores along the sides of the hills. Many kiang were grazing
on it and many thousands of sheep were being pastured there. As we
approached the lake called Bamtso, the country became very marshy, and
our ponies got bogged several times. The bungalow at Dochen was situated
near the shores of the Bamtso. Never have I seen a lake with so many
colours in it. It was very shallow, and the shades varied from deep blue
and purple to light green, while in places it was almost red from a weed
that grew in it. Behind it was a background of snow and glacier-covered
mountains, which in the still mornings was reflected faithfully in its
waters and formed a charming picture. Swimming on this lake were many
bar-headed geese and Brahminy ducks, and along the shores were many
terns and yellow wagtails.

That evening an amusing thing happened in the kitchen. One of our cooks
was heating up a tin of tinned fish and had put it in some hot water
without previously opening it. When he thought it was sufficiently hot,
he started to open it, with the result that it exploded violently,
covering him and every one else in the kitchen with small pieces of
fish. I was able then to explain to the Tibetans who were carrying our
loads that our stores were very dangerous, and that if any were at any
time stolen, they would be liable to explode and hurt them. It was, of
course, the rarefied air that had caused this, for Dochen is at a height
of 14,700 feet above sea level.

Every day on from now the wind used to blow with great violence all the
afternoon, but would die down after sunset. It must have been of a local
nature caused by the rapid changes from high temperature to low, because
the clouds above at the same time were hardly moving. I sent back Dorje,
one of our cooks, from this place, as it was the fourth time that he had
been drunk, and this I hoped would be a lesson to the others. We now
left the Lhasa Road and turned off Westwards, having henceforward to
rely on our tents.

[Illustration: LOADING UP AT DOCHEN.]

From Dochen to Khe was a short march of 11 miles over the Dug Pass,
16,400 feet. I did not follow the road taken by the transport animals,
but took a local guide and rode over the hill-tops in search of ovis
ammon. I did not see any, however, though we sighted two or three goa,
but they were very wild and would not allow me to approach within 500
yards of them. There were numbers of blue hares, however, and some ram
chakor, the Himalayan snow cock. But beyond this the hillsides were very
bare of game. There were pin-cushions of a beautiful little blue sedum
growing at a height of over 17,000 feet, also there was a big red
stonecrop. Khe is now only a small and dirty village with practically no
water except a half-dried muddy pond, but at one time it must have been
a place of some importance, as ruins and buildings of considerable size
extend over an area of more than a mile. The Kala-tso evidently at one
time came right up to this ruined town of Khetam, and the fact that it
is deserted now is probably due to the shrinkage of the lake. This was
only one of the many signs of desiccation that we saw in our travels in
Tibet. There were some curious ruins which looked like old crenellated
walls, but these walls were only places on which barley dough used to be
exposed to feed the crows as a sign of prosperity. It was a curious
custom and could only have prevailed in a very fertile valley, which
this place is no longer. The age of the city I could not find out, but
the few survivors told me that the holy shrine at Tashilumpo, which now
is at Shigatse, ought to have been built here. According to a local
legend, there was a certain stone in Khetam shaped like a ewe's-womb,
and one day a donkey driver finding that his loads were unequal in
weight, picked up this stone and put it on the light load to balance the
other, quite unaware of the importance of the stone. This stone was then
carried from Gyantse to Shigatse, where a high and important Lama saw
it, and recognising that this was a very holy stone, had it kept there.
The powerful monastery of Tashilumpo was built over this stone. We
passed two small nunneries called Doto and Shidag in snug little valleys
to the North of the plain, and on asking why there should be so many
nunneries in these parts when in the greater part of Tibet men
predominated, I was told that this was due to the fact that it was close
to the Nepalese frontier where there had always been much fighting, so
that most of the men had been killed and only women had survived. After
a short and easy march we came to a small pocket in the hills called
Kheru. Here were encamped some people belonging to a nomad tribe who
always lived in tents. They were very friendly, put tents at our
disposal, and did their best to make us comfortable. They told us that
they came here every year in the twelfth month, about January, and left
again in the fifth month of the Tibetan year (June) for a place near
Tuna, where they disposed of their wool, butter and cheese at the Phari
market. There were altogether about twenty families here owning some 200
yaks and 3,000 sheep. Dr. Kellas was slightly better, but Raeburn was
not feeling at all well, and Wheeler was suffering from indigestion, so
that we were rather a sick party. Kheru lies at a height of 15,700 feet,
but it had been very hot all day in the brilliant sunshine, and on the
way we had passed lizards and a number of common peacock butterflies.
Next morning our march was to Tatsang (Falcon's Nest), a distance of 15
or 16 miles, and over two passes 16,450 and 17,100 feet. The going was
easy all the way, as the gradients both up and down the passes were very
gentle. Between the two passes was a broad valley, filled with huge
flocks of sheep and herds of yaks, and after crossing the second pass,
we descended into a great barren and stony plain, more than 10 miles
across which was Tatsang and over which the wind blew very keenly. To
the South of us appeared the snowy crests of Pawhunri, Kanchenjhow and
Chomiomo and the Lhonak peaks. Again I did not keep with the transport,
but followed the crests of the hills, where I had lovely views; on the
way I saw plenty of gazelle, and was lucky enough to shoot one of them,
as they are very good eating. Our camp at Tatsang was pitched just below
the nunnery there, which is on the top of a rock and where there are
about thirty nuns. Our camp was on a pleasant grassy spot where some
excellent springs bubble up out of the ground. These within a few yards
formed quite a big stream full of small snow trout. They do not really
belong to the trout family, although they have somewhat similar spots,
and are very good to eat. Bullock, with his butterfly net, and the
coolies with their hands, managed to catch quite a number of fish, and
we had them for dinner that night. The ground round our tents was full
of holes out of which the marmot rats kept appearing. They were very
tame, and did not seem to be in the least afraid of us. Dr. Kellas had
had a very trying day. He had been rather better, and had started
riding a yak, but he found this too exhausting and coolies had to be
sent back from Tatsang to bring him on in a litter, so that he did not
arrive at Tatsang till late in the evening. Tatsang is 16,000 feet, so
the night was cold, the thermometer inside the tent registering 7° of
frost, though it was June 4; outside there must have been quite 15° as
the running streams were all frozen over, but once the sun had risen
everything warmed up and we had a beautiful warm day. Dr. Kellas started
off in his litter at 7 a.m. in quite good spirits. I did not start till
an hour later, as I had wanted to see everything off, and then went up
to visit the nunnery, over which the lady abbess showed me. There were
thirty nuns living there, all with shorn heads and wearing a curious
wool head-dress. The place where they worshipped was full of prayer
wheels, both large and small. They sat down behind these, and each nun
turned one or two of them if they could manage it. The room was very
dark, with a low ceiling, and at the end were several statues of Buddha
covered over with gauze veils. In another room there was a large prayer
wheel which they said contained half a million prayers.

After leaving the nunnery we jogged along a dry and barren valley which
gradually rose in about 12 miles to a pass 17,200 feet. On the way we
passed Dr. Kellas in his litter, who then seemed to me to be still quite
cheerful. I then rode on and at the top of the pass saw three ovis
ammon, and after a chase of about a mile I shot one, which afforded
plenty of food for the coolies for some days. It was a full grown ram
about five years old and we had great trouble in getting the carcass on
to a mule, as it was enormous and very heavy. After this I rode on down
the valley for another 10 miles to Khamba Dzong. There were actually a
few bushes in this valley, which was carpeted with the pretty pink
trumpet-shaped flower mentioned above, also with light and dark blue
iris. Suddenly the valley narrowed into a fine limestone gorge, and all
at once the fort of Khamba Dzong appeared towering above us on the
cliffs. It was really a very impressive sight and some of the
architecture of the round towers was very fine. I found that Morshead
had been waiting here for about nine days, but had employed his time in
fixing the old triangulation points. Soon after I arrived the Jongpen
came down to pay us a visit. He was quite a young fellow, only about
twenty-four, but very pleasant and polite.

While we were talking, a man came running up to us very excitedly to say
that Dr. Kellas had suddenly died on the way. We could hardly believe
this, as he was apparently gradually getting better; but Wollaston at
once rode off to see if it was true, and unfortunately found that there
was no doubt about it. It was a case of sudden failure of the heart, due
to his weak condition, while being carried over the high pass. His death
meant a very great loss to the Expedition in every way, as he alone was
qualified to carry out the experiments in oxygen and blood pressure
which would have been so valuable to the Expedition, and on which
subject he was so great an expert. His very keenness had been the cause
of his illness, for he had tried his constitution too severely in the
early months of that year by expeditions into the heart of the Himalayas
to see if he could get fresh photographs from other angles of Mount
Everest. The following day we buried him on the slopes of the hill to
the South of Khamba Dzong, in a site unsurpassed for beauty that looks
across the broad plains of Tibet to the mighty chain of the Himalayas
out of which rise up the three great peaks of Pawhunri, Kanchenjhow and
Chomiomo, which he alone had climbed. From the same spot, far away to
the West--more than a hundred miles away--could be seen the snowy crest
of Mount Everest towering far above all the other mountains. He lies,
therefore, within sight of his greatest feats in climbing and within
view of the mountain that he had longed for so many years to approach--a
fitting resting-place for a great mountaineer.

[Illustration: KHAMBA DZONG.]

                                Chapter III

            FROM KHAMBA DZONG THROUGH UNKNOWN COUNTRY TO TINGRI

Our camp at Khamba Dzong[3] was pitched in a walled enclosure at the
foot of the fort, built on a great crag that rose 500 feet sheer above
us. They called this enclosure a Bagichah, or garden, because it once
boasted of three willow trees. Only one of these three is alive to-day,
the other two being merely dead stumps of wood. The Jongpen here, who
was under the direct orders of Shigatse, was very friendly, and after
our arrival presented us with five live sheep, a hundred eggs, and a
small carpet which he had had made in his own factory in the fort. Next
afternoon Morshead, Wollaston and myself went up to pay the Jongpen a
visit in his fort. It was a steep climb from our camp, past long
Mendongs or Mani walls covered with inscribed prayers. The Jongpen was
at the entrance waiting to receive us. He then showed us over his
stables, where he had several nice Tibetan ponies, which strongly
objected to Europeans and lashed out fiercely as we approached them.
After looking at them we went up many flights of most dangerously steep
stairs, almost in pitch darkness the whole time, until we came to a
small courtyard. Then after climbing up more steps, we were ushered into
a small latticed room where we were given the usual Tibetan tea and
sweetmeats. I presented the Jongpen with one of the new lever electric
torches, with which he was much pleased, saying it would be of much use
to him in going up and down his dark staircases. After tea he took us up
on to the roof of the fort, which was quite flat, and from which we had
a most magnificent view. We stood on the top of a great precipice and
looked straight down at our camp, which lay many hundred feet below but
almost within a stone's throw. From here too we could look across the
wide plains and valleys of the Yaru and its tributaries to the main
chain of the Himalayas which formed the Southern boundary to the
picture. From this side they do not appear nearly as imposing as they do
when seen from the South. Seen as they are from a height of over 15,000
feet, the distance to the sky line is not nearly so great, and as a rule
we found the Northern slopes to be much less steep than those on the
Southern side. The snow line, too, was also several thousand feet
higher. Every day great masses of moist cumulus clouds came rolling up
and round the peaks to the South of us, indicating heavy falls of rain
and snow on the South, but very little of this came over the
watershed--only an occasional slight hailstorm or a few drops of rain.
From this point we could see as far West as Mount Everest, still over a
hundred miles away. After spending some time up there and admiring and
discussing the view, we descended once more into the fort, where the
Jongpen showed us some of the carpets that his womenfolk were busy
making and promised to have some ready for us by the time that we came
back. We also much admired the curious old locks by which the doors and
boxes were fastened; before leaving, he made me a present of one of
these locks.

  [3] Dzong means fort.

June 7 saw us still at Khamba Dzong, as the transport would not be ready
till the following day. Raeburn, who for some time had been suffering
from the same complaint as Dr. Kellas, was unfortunately getting no
better and was getting weaker every day. We were therefore reluctantly
compelled to send him back again into Sikkim to Lachen, where he could
be taken charge of by the lady missionaries and properly looked after.
Wollaston and Gyalzen Kazi were to accompany him down to Lachen, and if
possible to rejoin us by the time that we got to Tingri. This break-up
of our climbing party was most annoying and seriously weakened our
party, obliging us to alter our plans for reconnoitring in a thorough
manner the various approaches to Mount Everest. The following day, after
a good deal of delay and argument about the loads, we got everything
loaded up and started off for Lingga, a march of about 16 miles to the
West. For the first few miles we rode across a great plain on which were
several small herds of goa, but these were very wary and kept well out
of shot. The path then took us alongside a small isolated rocky hill in
which we kept putting up numerous hares who often got up right under our
ponies' feet. We crossed the Yaru River, now only a small stream, at the
picturesque village of Mende with its fine willow trees, and then after
passing over a spur, formed of slaty rock, we descended into another
great plain which extended all the way to Tingri. Five miles across this
plain was the village of Lingga, surrounded by marshes and ponds, with
barley fields and rich grass growing between the patches of water. There
were several other villages in sight, so that the plain was evidently
fertile and could support a considerable population. This was the first
place where we became bothered by sand flies, which in the morning were
very troublesome; but when the wind got up, as it always did in the
afternoons, it blew them away, and for once was welcome. The villagers
were very hospitable; they produced tea and beer brewed from barley for
us as soon as we arrived there. The latter is quite a pleasant drink on
a hot day, but it did not agree with my inside at all. The people here
had never seen a European before, and though at first inclined to be
rather shy, they soon became very friendly and curious. Some pieces of
silver paper from chocolates quite won the hearts of the children who
flocked around and did not in the least mind being photographed. To the
South extended the chain of snows of the main range of the Himalayas,
and on the way we had several clear and distinct views of Mount Everest.
Morshead, who had left the day before, was camped at a small monastery a
few miles to the North of us in order to follow the crest of the ridge
of hills and to survey both sides, but was to join us again at Tinki.
The weather now was really delightful, though to the South of us we
still saw heavy clouds which brought showers of snow as far as the
mountains, but they did not reach us.

From here to Tinki was about 13 miles over a perfectly level plain. The
midges or sand flies were very troublesome the whole way and came in
hundreds round one's head, got inside one's topee, and were thoroughly
objectionable. The plain appeared very fertile, as there seemed to be
plenty of water and great herds of yaks and flocks of sheep were grazing
upon it. In the marshes and ponds were many bar-headed geese, Brahminy
ducks, mallard and teal. After the rains, it is evident that a great
part of this plain is under water. About a couple of miles from Tinki we
crossed some curious sand dunes, about 20 feet high, which are evidently
on the move, and soon afterwards the Jongpen of Tinki came riding out to
meet us with a few mounted followers, he himself riding a fine white
pony. He was very Chinese in appearance, wearing finely embroidered
silks with a Chinese hat and a long pigtail, and his manners were
excellent. He escorted us to the place where our camp was to be, and had
had three or four tents already pitched for us. Tea and country beer
were at once served, and we rested in the shade of his Chinese tents
until our transport arrived.

[Illustration: TINKI DZONG.]

We were encamped in a very picturesque spot beside a large pond that was
full of bar-headed geese, Brahminy ducks and terns. On the opposite side
of this pond rose the walls and towers of the fort of Tinki. As soon as
we had settled down, the Jongpen came again to pay us a formal visit,
presented us with four sheep and a couple of hundred eggs and promised
to do everything he could to help us and to forward us on our way. Half
a mile above us was a large village and a big monastery belonging to the
Yellow Sect of Buddhists who also owned a fine grove of willows. The
bottom of the valley was all covered with barley fields, now a tender
green and coming up well. As the fresh transport had not arrived, we had
to spend the following day there. This gave an opportunity for Abdul
Jalil, our photographic assistant, to rejoin us. We had sent him back to
Phari in order to change some more rupees into Tibetan currency, as we
found that Indian notes or rupees were not accepted any further to the
West. Abdul Jalil had been very nervous about travelling with so much
money and had borrowed a revolver and a rifle from members of the
Expedition besides two large Tibetan swords and a dagger which he
obtained from the Jongpen. In the morning, with Bullock, I went to
return the call of the Jongpen. His fort at the time was under repair,
so he was living in a small house outside the main building. He was very
affable and gave us tea: we were then able to make all the arrangements
for transport except the actual fixing of the price. For this he said he
would have to consult his head-men. Just as we were about to leave he
insisted on our eating the large meal which he had had prepared for us.
He gave us small dishes of excellent macaroni and mince, seasoned up
with chillies and very well cooked--much better than anything our cooks
could produce. This we had to eat with chopsticks--a somewhat difficult
proceeding, as we were not yet used to them. Later on, however, after
much practice, we found no difficulty in consuming the numerous bowls of
this excellent dish that the Tibetans always set before one. The Jongpen
told us that he had been twenty-nine years in Government service, and he
was expecting to have a better post than this shortly. His health was
poor and he said he had been suffering much from indigestion, so I gave
him some pills and tabloids, for which he was very grateful. On the
return journey, he told me that he had greatly benefited by my
treatment. The bar-headed geese and the wild duck here were
extraordinarily tame, allowing us to approach within five yards of them
and showing no signs of fear. They would come and waddle round our
tents, picking up any scraps of food. The Jongpen had begged us not to
shoot or kill any of them, as he said a Lama had been sent specially
from Lhasa some years ago in order to tame the creatures, and certainly
the result was extraordinary; it was most interesting to watch these
birds, ordinarily so wild, from so close a distance. In the evening the
Jongpen came over to see us again, and after a good hour's bargaining
over the price of the transport, we finally reached a reasonable and
amicable agreement. Every evening, to the South of us, there were
constant flashes of lightning all along the horizon. In the morning I
woke up to the unusual sound of drops of rain, but this only lasted for
five minutes and then cleared up, though the sky remained clouded all
the morning. There was the usual fighting and confusion about the loads,
each person trying to get the lightest loads for his own animal. The
result was that there was much talking and fighting, and nothing was
actually done until some head-man would come and take control and decide