advanced, after crossing to the right bank of the stream, the road
became still more rocky and difficult, till at last the ravine in
front became quite impracticable. I now turned suddenly to the right,
and entered a narrow passage with perpendicular walls of rock, down
which ran a very small streamlet. In this dark shady dell, which was
so narrow that the light of the sun could not possibly reach the
bottom, there were several large patches of snow. The ascent was at
first rapid, but after a mile and a half the slope became more gradual
and the ravine considerably wider. The usual shrubs then appeared on
the water's edge, close to which I encamped, after a march of perhaps
nine miles, at about 13,600 feet, very nearly the same elevation as
the place from which I had started in the morning, and in an equally
desert situation. The whole march was exceedingly barren, and without
any cultivation or village. A few small bushes of juniper (_J.
excelsa_) were met with about half-way, for the first time during my
present journey.

    [Sidenote: TAKTI PASS.
     _June, 1848._]

On the 1st of July, I continued the ascent of the ravine, which was
still extremely barren and stony, except in the immediate vicinity of
the stream, where the usual vegetation of willow and _Lonicera_
continued plentiful. A few birch-trees were seen on the road-side.
After following the ravine for nearly two miles, I reached a point at
which it divided into two branches. The luggage porters took that to
the right, which was said to be easier, but longer, while my guide led
me to the left, up a steep ravine, which, after a few hundred yards,
contracted to a mere fissure three to six feet in width, with very
lofty rocky walls, and full of loose shingle. In several places, large
masses of hard smooth ice had to be passed, which, from the steepness
of the slope, proved no easy task, and would certainly have been
almost an impossibility for loaded men. After passing through this
fissure, which, as usual, opened out in its upper part, the road
turned to the left up a long steep shingly hill-side, to the top of
the ridge, which was rounded. While in the ravine I saw no plants; but
on the shingly ascent a number of alpine species made their
appearance. One of the first was an _Anemone_, but by far the most
abundant was a yellow species of _Thermopsis_, which was in full
flower, and seemed to thrive best among loose stones. A small
_Veronica_, with bright blue flowers, occurred several times on the
ascent.

The pass over this ridge is called Takti La. Its elevation was,
according to my observation of the boiling-point of water, 16,360
feet. The mountains to the right and left, rising perhaps 1500 feet
higher than the pass, obstructed all view. Behind, the landscape was
shut in by a lofty snowy mountain, not a mile off; and in front, part
of the same snowy range which I had observed from the ridge two days
before, was visible. There was a good deal of vegetation at the top,
which was in part swampy round a small spring, where probably the snow
had only recently melted. The plants were all alpine: _Biebersteinia
odora_, a well-known North Asiatic form, was very common, with
several _Ranunculaceæ_ and _Cruciferæ_, and one or two species of
_Polygonum_.

    [Sidenote: NIRA.
     _July, 1848._]

On the steep shingly ascent which faced the south, I had met with no
snow till close to the top, when I saw a few very small patches. On
leaving the top of the pass, the road continued to run along the side
of the mountain on the left hand, nearly level for about a mile. As I
got more fully on the north face, I found snow lying in large patches,
which were melting rapidly; and when fairly on the northern slope, I
found that, though very steep, it was covered by a continuous bed of
snow from the very crest down to about 15,500 feet, as near as I could
guess. The view to the north, which, from the pass itself, had been
very limited, was now extensive. The range in front was everywhere
tipped with snow, and the road up to its crest, with the pass by which
I was to cross it, were distinctly visible. Between this range and
that on which I stood was interposed the deep ravine of the Zanskar
river, the course of which could be traced for a long way, though from
the precipitous rocks through which it ran, the stream itself could
not be seen.

I find it extremely difficult to describe in an adequate manner the
extreme desolation of the most barren parts of Tibet, where no
luxuriant forest or bright green herbage softens the nakedness of the
mountains, but everywhere the same precipices, heaps of rocks, and
barren monotonous deserts meet the eye. The prospect now before me was
certainly most wonderful. I had nowhere before seen a country so
utterly waste. At the great elevation on which I stood I completely
overlooked the valley, and the two or three villages which I
afterwards found to exist were either seen as mere spots, or concealed
by ranges of hills. Directly in front, across the Zanskar river, a
rocky precipice, worn and furrowed in every direction, and broken into
sharp pinnacles, rose to the height of at least 2000 feet, overhanging
a deep ravine, while to the right and left mountain was heaped upon
mountain in inextricable confusion, large patches of snow crowning the
highest parts.

From the edge of the snow I descended rapidly to the village of Nira.
On the earlier part of the descent, the ground was soft and miry from
the recent melting of the snow, which still lay in the more shady
parts in large patches. A bright yellow _Ranunculus_, with numerous
petals, and the pretty _Lloydia serotina_ were plentiful close to the
snow. Further down, the road was extremely stony, and the descent very
abrupt, but towards the end I followed the course of a small
streamlet, the margins of which were skirted by a belt not more than a
foot in width of vividly green turf. The village of Nira, in which I
encamped, was 12,900 feet above the level of the sea: its cultivated
lands were extensive, and both in the village and on the hills around,
juniper-trees of considerable size were common.

    [Sidenote: CROSS ZANSKAR RIVER.
     _July, 1848._]

    [Sidenote: YULCHUNG.
     _July, 1848._]

On the 2nd of July I crossed the Zanskar river to the village of
Yulchung (13,700 feet). At Nira, besides the usual crops of barley,
there was a good deal of buckwheat, which was just above ground. The
fields were bordered, as usual, by a rank vegetation. A _Nepeta_, very
like _N. Sibthorpiana_, was quite new to me, and a tall erect
_Wahlenbergia_, with very large pale greenish-blue flowers, and
coarse, somewhat fetid leaves, was very abundant, just coming into
flower; the rest of the plants observed were the same as in the upper
part of Zanskar. The stream which ran by the village had in some
places spread out into a marshy meadow, in which a large pink-flowered
_Cardamine_ or _Dentaria_ occurred plentifully, with _Orchis
latifolia_? a white _Juncus_, and many common plants.

Below the village the descent was bare and stony, and extremely abrupt
the whole way down to the river; the Tibetan rose was in full flower
on the road-side. The river did not come into sight till it was close
at hand, the bottom of the ravine through which it flowed being narrow
and rocky. A common wooden bridge, without side-rails, forty or fifty
feet above the surface of the water, was thrown over at the narrowest
part, where the stream was hemmed in by high rocky walls, and was, I
think, not more than forty feet broad. The current was rapid, and the
water much discoloured. The course of the river at the bridge was
easterly, but below, after a slight bend to the south of east, the
valley seemed to take a more northerly direction, and above the bridge
it came from the south-west. The banks of the river did not seem to be
at all practicable, and I was informed that it was only when the river
was frozen that travellers could proceed down it to Le. Accounts
differed much as to the length of time required for the journey, and I
could not discover that any of my party had ever travelled it, so that
I presume the route is not very much frequented.

Immediately after crossing the river, a long, steep, utterly barren
ascent commenced over stones and shingle. A deep ravine, with a small
stream at the bottom, lay to the right of the road, beyond which were
the lofty rugged precipices which had been so conspicuous from the
heights the day before. At about 13,000 feet I gained the summit of a
projecting ridge, which rose, a little to the right, into a rocky
peak, and then sank abruptly down to the ravine. The road then dipped
into a hollow filled with large boulders and fragments of rock,
perhaps of glacial origin, and rose again more gradually to a second
ridge, in the hollow beyond which lay the village at which I had
determined to encamp, its lowest houses overhanging the deep ravine on
the right. The elevation not being materially different from that of
Nira, the plants of the cultivated grounds were the same. _Potentilla
anserina_ was very plentiful, and remarkably luxuriant.

The rocks during the ascent were chiefly a very hard but very brittle
quartz or schist, alternating with loose crumbly slates, and a little
limestone. I diverged a little from the direct road, to visit an iron
mine, and to see the process of smelting. The ore was yellow ochre,
occurring in a breccia-looking conglomerate situated on the flanks of
a steep narrow ravine. There were two smelting furnaces, built of
stone, of a conical shape, three feet in height, and about six inches
in diameter at the top. The fuel employed was charcoal, and no flux
was mixed with the ore.

    [Sidenote: SINGHI PASS.
     _July, 1848._]

On the 3rd of July, I crossed Singhi La, the pass which I had seen so
distinctly on the 1st. The ascent commenced at once from the village
of Yulchung, over dry rounded hills, at the same time receding
considerably from the deep ravine on the right. No rock _in situ_ was
visible on the earlier part of the ascent, the hills being entirely
covered with coarse gravel and small stones, among which a spinous
_Astragalus_ and a species of _Polygonum_ were the predominant plants;
a glabrous _Artemisia_, a little _Euphorbia_, and the prickly
_Statice_, were also frequent. After about 1000 feet of ascent, plants
of the alpine zone began to appear. Afterwards the ascent was more
gentle, over similar ground, till I attained an elevation of about
15,000 feet; at which height the road was for some distance nearly
level, winding round a deep bay or hollow in the mountains, with high
hills rising on the left hand, and the deep ravine still on the right.
Several small streams were crossed, and many alpine plants seen, all
familiar to me, except a species of rhubarb, which grew among the
shingle in considerable quantity, and which is probably an undescribed
species.

After completing the circuit of the deep bay, the ascent recommenced,
but was not at all rapid, till within a few hundred yards of the top,
when a short steep pull occurred. On the latter part of the ascent,
from the loose, stony nature of the soil, vegetation was very scanty;
and at the top, which was rounded, there was absolutely none. The
elevation was 16,500 feet. Several large patches of snow occurred on
the south side when close to the top, but not continuously. The view
was extensive to the south, embracing a considerable portion of the
great snowy range north of the Chenab, which, from the great elevation
of the spot on which I stood, as well as of the intermediate ranges,
and from the much smaller quantity of snow on its northern face,
looked much less imposing than it does when viewed from the Indian
side. Right and left were huge rocky peaks, and in front the view was
obstructed by mountains close at hand, except to the north-west, in
which direction a long gently-sloping valley was visible, running
between two steep ridges, along which, I was informed, the next day's
journey lay. From the top of the pass I attempted to form an estimate
of the height of the neighbouring ranges, taking the quantity of snow
as a guide, and it appeared to me that they were in general between 19
and 20,000 feet, a few isolated peaks only exceeding that altitude.
Such guesses, however, are necessarily extremely vague.

Quartzy rock, slate, and limestone, alternated during the ascent; and
near the summit of the pass the limestone evidently contained organic
remains, perhaps coralline, though the traces were not sufficiently
distinct to enable me to decide the point. The fossils were not
observed _in situ_, but the angular fragments in which they occurred
did not appear to have been transported from any distance.

On the north side of the pass a snow-bed commenced at the very crest,
down which the descent was very steep for a few hundred yards. The
snow was very soft, and was rapidly melting, but it possibly covered a
permanent mass of ice, as it terminated abruptly, and the valley at
its base was wide and but little inclined, with only a few patches of
snow. The ground near the snow was swampy, owing to the rapid thaw.
Here a little sweet-scented _Primula_ was abundant, with one or two
more alpine plants. The road followed the course of a wide arid
valley, descending very gently. Two species of rhubarb were common,
and a dwarf willow fringed the margins of the stream.

    [Sidenote: PHUTAKSHA.
     _July, 1848._]

As I advanced, the valley gradually narrowed, and on the right high
precipitous rocks ere long overhung the stream, so that I crossed to
the left bank, and, instead of keeping on the bottom of the valley,
proceeded horizontally along the hill-sides. A little further on, the
stream, which had hitherto had a north-west course, turned suddenly to
the north, and entered an extremely narrow rocky ravine, which to all
appearance was quite impassable. Here the road turned abruptly to the
left, and ascended to cross a low ridge. On attaining the summit an
open valley was seen 1000 feet below, which at its lower extremity
contracted into a fissure precisely similar to that just described;
and as the two ravines were only separated by a narrow rocky ridge,
which rose to the north into a high cliff, there can be no doubt that
the two streams joined a mile or two below. Descending gradually into
the valley, I encamped at the village of Phutaksha, at an elevation of
about 14,300 feet.

    [Sidenote: LACUSTRINE CLAY.
     _July, 1848._]

Notwithstanding its great elevation, the valley of Phutaksha was
partially cultivated. The fields formed a narrow belt parallel to the
stream, along which they extended almost up to 15,000 feet, but the
crops were scanty. The wild plants of the borders of the cultivated
land were the same as those common in Zanskar, and grew with great
luxuriance along the margins of the irrigation streamlets. Alluvial
boulder clay was common in the valley; and I saw also a great deal of
the fine cream-coloured clay, which I have elsewhere noticed as being
probably of lacustrine origin. The occurrence of this clay at an
elevation of upwards of 14,000 feet is rather uncommon, and here, as
well as elsewhere, appears to be accompanied by such a conformation of
the mountains as to render the former existence of a small lake
probable. Below Phutaksha, as I have already observed, the ravine of
the little stream is exceedingly narrow and rocky, and as likely as
any other part of Tibet to have been blocked up by alluvial deposits
so as to form a lake.

On the 4th of July my road lay up the valley. The banks of the little
stream were lined with most beautiful green turf, producing all the
characteristic plants already mentioned. I took the right-hand branch
of two which here united, and, on looking up the other, observed that
the snow-line on the northern slope of the mountains, at its head, was
very considerably above the level at which I stood; its height, where
lowest, seemed to be about 16,000 feet. In one small side-ravine there
was an incipient glacier. After leaving the cultivated lands the
valley became extremely stony and barren, fragments of a brittle
limestone rock being everywhere scattered about. The vegetation
changing to that of the alpine zone, several new species of
_Astragalus_ and _Phaca_ were collected. Following the streamlet
almost to its source, the road afterwards ascended to the top of a
steep ridge, elevated probably a little more than 16,000 feet; this
ridge was rocky, or covered with shingle of a dark slate, which had
succeeded to the limestone. The yellow _Thermopsis_ was almost the
only plant which grew on the summit, from which I had a fine view of
the pass crossed the day before, and of the range of mountains I had
left; but to the north there was no distant view, the valley bending
abruptly to the right.

    [Sidenote: HANUPATA.
     _July, 1848._]

From the top of the pass I descended rapidly along a deep valley,
generally at some height above the stream, to the village of Hanupata,
elevated 13,100 feet. This valley was throughout barren and stony, and
became very narrow in the lower part. _Dama_ was very plentiful, but
otherwise there was little novelty in the vegetation, except along the
bank of the stream in its upper part, where I made a rich collection
of small alpine species. A large-flowered _Aster_, a white
_Pyrethrum_, and a little _Pedicularis_, were the new species
obtained. In the lower part of the valley willow and _Lonicera_ as
usual appeared; and when close to Hanupata, I met with a shrubby
species of _Labiatæ_ (perhaps a _Ballota_) which is an extremely
common plant in the valley of the Indus from 7000 to 14,000 feet, but
seems never to occur far from that river.

    [Sidenote: WANDLA RAVINE.
     _July, 1848._]

On the 5th of July I proceeded down the same valley to Wandla, a
distance of about eleven miles. The fields of Hanupata occupied only a
narrow strip along the bank of the stream, the sides of the valley
being steep and rocky. The crops were much further advanced than any I
had hitherto seen; the barley in particular was very luxuriant, and
one field was already in ear. Along the margins of the field there was
the same rank herbage as usually occurs in similar situations. Lucerne
and melilot, both seemingly the common European species, were very
plentiful. Poplars and willows were cultivated; and I observed some
large juniper-trees. Beyond the cultivation the valley became very
narrow. The bed and banks of the stream were gravelly, and on the
latter grew a dense thicket of _Myricaria_, _Hippophaë_, willow, and
rose. After two or three miles there was not left space even for
these, the mountains coming so close together that in many places
there was not room to pass between them and the water. The current was
too rapid for fording, so that it repeatedly became necessary to
ascend to a considerable height in order to effect a passage. One of
these ascents was not much less than 1000 feet perpendicular, up a
narrow lateral ravine, and then over a very steep bank of loose
shingle, descending again with great abruptness to the water's edge.
The road also crossed the stream several times.

In one place I observed a very remarkable natural tunnel, where the
stream flowed below a solid mass of conglomerate rock, which formed an
arch obliquely across it. The conglomerate was exceedingly hard, and
rested on both sides on very soft friable slate, by the excavation of
which, by the action of the stream, the tunnel appeared to have been
formed. The original channel of the stream was still visible six or
eight feet higher than its present level a little to the right. The
ravine continued narrow and rocky for nearly seven miles, but during
the last two of these the road lay high upon the mountain-side, and
was tolerably level and good. Near the end the valley became wider,
and several small patches of cultivation appeared, with a few
apricot-trees; and a double yellow rose was planted near some of the
houses. The last mile of the day's journey was entirely through very
rich and luxuriant cultivation, which was further advanced than any I
had yet seen.

    [Sidenote: WANDLA.
     _July, 1848._]

The elevation of Wandla is only 11,000 feet, and the heat of the sun
was very oppressive. On the latter part of the march, many plants of
the Indus valley which were familiar to me from my journey of the year
before, but which I had not seen during my present visit to Tibet,
made their appearance. _Echinops_ and _Nepeta floccosa_, _Mulgedium
Tataricum_, a large and handsome yellow _Corydalis_, _Capparis_, and
numerous _Chenopodiaceæ_ were abundant. The leaves of _Tussilago
Farfara_ were common along the water-courses; in the corn-fields a
little viscid _Cerastium_ (_Lepyrodiclis_) was only too plentiful. By
far the most conspicuous plant was the rose (_R. Webbiana_), which, in
the rich and well-watered soil of the cultivated plain, grew most
luxuriantly, forming dense almost spherical bushes, many of which were
at least fifteen feet high, as much in diameter, and bushy down to the
ground. They were now in full bloom, and the foliage was almost
entirely concealed by the profusion of bright red flowers.

I was obliged to remain a day at Wandla, owing to the serious illness
of one of my servants, who, though a native of a mountainous country,
had suffered much more on the high passes than any of the inhabitants
of the plains of India, and was now so much exhausted as to be unable
to move. On the 7th, however, I proceeded towards the Indus, not a
little glad to be at last within a day's journey of that river, as I
was considerably later than I had originally calculated, not having
made allowance for the very rugged nature of the country between
Zanskar and Le.

    [Sidenote: LAMAYURU.
     _July, 1848._]

The valley of Wandla, I was informed, contracted again into a rocky
ravine a very little way below the village. This ravine was not quite
impracticable, but the stream had to be forded very frequently; and as
it was at least four feet deep, I was recommended to follow another
route, a little more circuitous, but free of difficulty. For the first
mile I proceeded up an open valley, which joined at a right angle from
the west that which I had descended on the 5th. I then turned to the
right up a very sterile ravine, with much saline efflorescence; in a
few places a small streamlet trickled among the stones, but for the
first part the channel was quite dry, the water filtering underneath
the gravel. The sides of the ravine were bare and shingly and without
vegetation, except at the entrance, where a _Corydalis_, thistle, and
one or two other plants occurred sparingly. On the most stony parts
_Güldenstädtia cuneata_, Benth., was common, and here and there in the
gravelly channel was a bush of _Myricaria_ (not _M. elegans_, but a
smaller and much less handsome species). After a gentle ascent of
about two miles, I gained the head of the ravine, and crossing a stony
ridge not high enough for alpine plants, descended another valley on
its north side, which, though at first if possible more barren than
the ascent, soon became somewhat green with willow-bushes and the
ordinary plants. After descending perhaps a thousand feet, I reached
an extensive tract of cultivation, just above which, in another
ravine, lay the village and monastery of Lamayuru, of which a
circumstantial account has been given by Moorcroft[20]. At this place,
I joined the road from Kashmir by Dras to Ladak, which has been
repeatedly traversed by European travellers, and is particularly
described in Moorcroft's Travels.

    [Sidenote: INDUS VALLEY.
     _July, 1848._]

    [Sidenote: KALATZE.
     _July, 1848._]

Below this village the valley contracted, and was for some distance
full of immense masses of lacustrine clay; lower down it became a
narrow rocky ravine. The road descended with great rapidity till I
reached the Wandla stream, which I had left in the morning; it was
afterwards less steep, following the banks of that river through a
winding rocky valley to its junction with the Indus, which was not
seen till close at hand. The valley of the Indus, where I entered it,
was very barren, with bare rugged mountains on both sides. A stony
platform of alluvial conglomerate usually intervened between the
mountains and the river, over which my road lay for about three miles
up the river, to a good wooden bridge, defended on the north side by a
small, very indifferent fort. By this bridge I crossed to the right
side of the river, and a mile further on reached the village of
Kalatze (or Kalsi, as it is commonly pronounced), at which I encamped.

In the lower part of the Wandla ravine, the clay-slate rock became
much indurated, and alternated with a very hard conglomerate, the
matrix of which had a semi-fused appearance, while the pebbles which
it contained were all rounded. This rock is very similar to, and
probably identical with, that of the Giah ravine north of the Tunglung
pass, and of the upper Indus. A modern conglomerate, with an indurated
sandy and calcareous matrix, in horizontal beds, rested unconformably
upon the more ancient rock, but afforded no indications by which I
could form an opinion of its exact age.

    [Sidenote: VEGETATION OF VALLEY OF INDUS.
     _July, 1848._]

The elevation of my tent at Kalatze I made to be 10,400 feet; but I
was encamped at the highest part of the village, and the bed of the
river was not much above 10,000 feet. The cultivated lands, which are
very extensive, lie on the top of a thick platform of alluvium,
through which the river has excavated a deep broad channel. The lands
of the village slope gradually from the base of the mountain to the
edge of the cliff overhanging the river, and the fields are made into
level terraces by walls of stones from three to six feet in height.
Numerous streams of water are conducted through the fields for
irrigation, upon which cultivation in Tibet entirely depends. The
crops had an appearance of great luxuriance: they consisted of wheat
and barley (both in full ear, the latter even beginning to turn
yellow), buckwheat, peas, and oil-seed (_Brassica Napus_). Fruit-trees
were abundant, chiefly apricots; but there was no deficiency of
apples, pears, walnuts, and mulberries. Along the water-courses and on
the edges of the fields grew plenty of wild plants, many the same as
occur everywhere in Tibet, but, from the diminished elevation,
numerous novelties were observed. A _Clematis_, with dingy
brownish-orange flowers, straggled over bushes; a shrubby _Ballota_
and a _Perowskia_ covered the walls; _Iris_, _Capsella_, _Veronica
biloba_ and _agrestis_, _Lamium amplexicaule_, _Mentha_, _Potentillæ_,
_Plantago Asiatica_, _Thalictrum_, and numerous other plants grew
along the water-courses; while in the fields among the corn the weeds
were much the same as are common in Europe and in the plains of India
in the cold season; _Vaccaria_, _Silene conoidea_, _Stellaria media_,
_Malva rotundifolia_, and _Convolvulus arvensis_ being plentiful.

    [Sidenote: NURLA.
     _July, 1848._]

On the 8th of July, I marched to Nurla[21], about eight miles up the
valley of the Indus. After leaving Kalatze, the whole day's journey
was quite barren, the road usually lying on the top of an alluvial
platform. Just beyond Kalatze, a large stream had cut a deep ravine
through the platform, showing it to be composed of large incoherent
water-worn stones, mixed with gravel and clay. The mountains on both
sides were steep, rocky, and bare. The vegetation on these platforms
was scanty: _Boragineæ_ and _Chenopodiaceæ_ were the two prominent
orders; _Nepeta floccosa_, a little _Hyoscyamus_, _Güldenstädtia_, a
large and handsome _Corydalis_, a _Matthiola_, and several
_Astragali_, _Cruciferæ_, and _Artemisiæ_, were also prevalent. Of
grasses, _Stipa_ was the most common, but several sub-tropical forms
were observed, which were interesting and somewhat unexpected. A
species of _Cymbopogon_, and an _Andropogon_ allied to _A. Ischæmum_,
grew among rocks close to the river. In similar places I met with two
species of _Vincetoxicum_, one a twiner, and the other erect;
_Tribulus_, too, was common on the most barren spots. At Nurla, the
cultivated lands are very extensive: the crops and fruit-trees as at
Kalatze; some of the barley was nearly ripe. The common bean seemed a
good deal cultivated, usually intermixed with wheat; _Lathyrus
sativus_ was also a common crop[22].

Behind the village of Kalatze, rounded hills of moderate elevation
were capped with incoherent beds of sand and boulders of considerable
thickness, horizontally stratified; similar beds, sometimes indurated
into a soft sandstone rock, occurred at intervals throughout the day.
Boulders of granite were abundant in the alluvium and on the surface
of the platforms, derived, I believe, from the axis of the chain
separating the Indus from the Shayuk. These transported masses of
granite were not observed anywhere between lower Zanskar and the
Indus; it may therefore, I think, be inferred that the superficial
alluvium (which, where the two occur together, generally covers the
lacustrine clays) has been deposited since the present river system
was in full operation, and is not, as I at one time conjectured,
analogous to the drifts of Europe. The ancient rocks between Kalatze
and Nurla were alternations of friable slate with indurated
conglomerate and grey sandstone.

    [Sidenote: SASPOLA.
     _July, 1848._]

Between Nurla and Saspola, to which place (eleven miles) I marched on
the 9th, the valley of the Indus was narrower than before, as well as
more rocky. The rock was chiefly grey sandstone. The road frequently
ascended to some height in places where the banks of the river were
too rugged to permit a passage. On the 10th of June I proceeded to
Nimo, ten miles further. At Saspola the road leaves the banks of the
Indus, to ascend a barren valley, among hills of loose conglomerate.
At first, the banks of the little stream were green and turfy; but
after about a mile I entered a dry stony ravine, along the bed of
which the road gradually ascended. The rocks were clay-slate,
conglomerate, and sandstone, and all the hills were capped with modern
alluvial clay conglomerate. Granite boulders occurred abundantly, and
marks of the action of water were seen on the rocks far above the
reach of the present streams. At the summit, which must have been
nearly 1000 feet above the Indus, I emerged suddenly upon a wide and
open gravelly plain. To the right, a number of low hills concealed the
course of the Indus; to the left, the mountain range had receded to
some distance, and could be seen to be here and there tipped with
snow. The road lay for several miles over this barren plain, which was
entirely alluvial, descending afterwards very abruptly into a deep
flat-bottomed hollow, excavated out of the soft conglomerate by a
considerable stream. In this hollow, quite concealed till close at
hand, was the village of Bazgo, with a long narrow strip of
cultivation along the margin of its stream. Following the course of
this valley till near the Indus, I then ascended its left bank, and
emerged upon another extensive alluvial platform, high above the
river, but parallel to it. At the east end of this platform was the
village of Nimo, the termination of my day's journey.

    [Sidenote: NIMO.
     _July, 1848._]

From this place my journey of the 12th brought me to Le, about twelve
miles. About a mile above Nimo the Indus is joined by the Zanskar
river. The valley where the two rivers unite is very rocky and
precipitous, and bends a long way to the south. The road to Le does
not follow the river, but ascends among gravelly ravines behind the
village, and emerges on a wide open plain, which, as on the previous
march, is interposed between the northern range of mountains and the
present channel of the Indus. The height of this plain above the river
was at least 1000 feet; it was lowest in the centre, sloping up not
only towards the mountains to the north, but to a range of
round-topped hills of moderate elevation, which overhung the valley of
the Indus, sinking on their south face very abruptly down to the
river. The higher mountains were chiefly granite, with a few
interposed beds of slate dipping at a high angle. The granite
exhibited the usual tendency of that rock to decay in spheres, or
rather in irregular-shaped masses with rounded angles.

In proceeding along this plain, the road at first rose almost
imperceptibly, but after two miles I reached the highest part of it,
from which it sloped down towards the east. From this point the course
of the Indus in front of Le, and to the south-east for many miles, was
finely seen. The river runs through a wide valley, but the range of
mountains to the north sends down many rugged spurs, which, in the
shape of low rocky hills, advance close to the river. On the south or
left bank, on the contrary, a wide, open, gently-sloping plain extends
to a considerable distance. From the highest level of the plain a long
gradual descent brought me to the Indus, to which it was necessary to
descend in order to get round one of the spurs just referred to. It is
here a tranquil but somewhat rapid stream, divided into several
branches by gravelly islands, generally swampy, and covered with low
_Hippophaë_ scrub. The size of the river was very much less than it
had been below the junction of the river of Zanskar, the latter
appearing to contribute considerably more than half the amount of
water. At the point of the low spur lay the village of Pitak, on an
isolated hill, surrounded by extensive deposits of cream-coloured
lacustrine clay. From this village there is a gradual ascent of about
four miles to the town of Le, which is built on a low hill at the
upper corner of a wide open valley.

    [Sidenote: PITAK.
     _July, 1848._]

The bed of the Indus at Pitak, below Le, has an elevation of about
10,500 feet above the level of the sea, but the town is at least 1300
feet higher. Its sheltered situation, in a hollow surrounded by hills,
and facing the south, compensates to a certain extent for this
increase of elevation; still the crops are very much inferior to those
on the banks of the Indus. There are but few trees, the apricot being
the only fruit-tree cultivated, and it does not seem to thrive. Water
is plentiful in the valley, and is conveyed through the cultivated
lands in deeply-cut canals or trenches, faced with walls of stone.
Natural meadows of tall grasses, intermixed with luxuriant lucerne and
melilot, are common along the banks of the river, especially above the
town.

    [Sidenote: LE.
     _July, 1848._]

The vegetation in the vicinity of Le scarcely differed from that of
the Indus at Kalatze. The most abundant families of plants were
_Chenopodiaceæ_, _Labiatæ_, and _Artemisiæ_, which covered the barren
and stony tracts; the _Boragineæ_, so abundant throughout Tibet in
early spring, had already quite dried up and disappeared. In the
meadows tall species of _Thalictrum_, _Silene_, and _Heracleum_, were
coming into flower, and in swamps _Veronica Beccabunga_ and
_Anagallis_, _Limosella_, and a yellow _Pedicularis_, were the most
abundant plants.

At Le I had the pleasure of meeting Captain Strachey, who had spent
the winter there, and had returned shortly before my arrival, from an
exploring journey to the eastward. After a week's stay I set out for
Nubra on the 19th of July, crossing the lofty chain separating the two
rivers by the pass directly north of Le, which, during the summer
months, presents no difficulty, and is therefore preferred as being
the most direct. The pass is distinctly visible from the town of Le,
to which it appears very close, though the distance is at least ten or
twelve miles. I did not attempt to cross it the first day, but
encamped as far up on the southern face as I conveniently could, so as
to reach the top early in the morning. At starting, the road lay for
about three miles through an open valley, partly cultivated, and with
a good deal of swampy ground. Higher up, the valley contracted into a
barren ravine, with a narrow strip of green along the margin of the
stream. About half-way, the road left the bottom of the valley, and
for the remainder of the march I proceeded along the bare side of the
mountain, ascending very rapidly. There was a striking change in the
vegetation as the height increased. On the lower slopes _Cicer_ and
_Statice_ were abundant, with several _Astragali_; on the latter part
of the ascent many alpine plants were observed, belonging to the
genera _Corydalis_, _Elsholtzia_, _Potentilla_, and _Draba_. A very
small violet was extremely plentiful in the crevices of the rocks, and
among stones, after I had reached 15,000 feet. I encamped at about
15,700 feet, on a level piece of ground, a few hundred feet above the
bottom of the valley.

    [Sidenote: PASS NORTH OF LE.
     _July, 1848._]

On the 20th I crossed the pass, starting about sunrise. The morning
was intensely frosty, and the stones and vegetation near the water
were encrusted with ice. The path lay close to the stream, ascending
somewhat rapidly among the green turf which grew along its margin, in
which I found many little alpine plants, among which, a large-flowered
_Aster_ and a small poppy with still unexpanded flowers were the most
conspicuous. The last part of the ascent was extremely steep, among
immense angular granite boulders, with here and there a little snow in
the crevices. Here a most elegant sweet-scented species of _Primula_
was common, so firmly fixed in the frozen mud, that I could with
difficulty procure a specimen. Except in very small patches, there was
no snow till within two hundred yards of the top of the ascent, for
which distance it was continuous, but very soft, and evidently melting
rapidly. The crest of the pass was a narrow ridge of large spheres of
granite, seemingly quite detached from one another, but which had
probably been formed on the spot they now occupied by the peculiar
decay characteristic of that rock.

The continuation of the ridge on both sides was for some distance
very little more elevated than the pass itself, the height of which
was 17,700 feet. To the south, the view was very extensive, embracing
a great extent of snowy mountains, with numerous lofty peaks, as well
as a part of the Indus valley, and the town of Le, immediately below;
to the north it was much more limited, as hills close at hand
completely excluded all distant view, except directly in front, where
one snowy peak could be seen a long way off, evidently beyond the
Shayuk.

On the north side of the pass snow commenced at the very top, and
continued for at least 1200 feet of perpendicular height. The descent
for this distance was extremely steep, over a snow-bed, which appeared
to cover an incipient glacier. About 1200 feet below the top I came to
a small oval-shaped lake, completely frozen over; a little higher up I
had passed a small bare piece of rock projecting through the snow, and
perhaps thirty feet long, on which the beautiful blue-flowered _Nepeta
multibracteata_, Benth., had already put forth its flowers. Beyond the
frozen lake the descent became at once much more gentle, and was
partially free of snow. The path lay over a vast accumulation of
angular stones, which appeared to have fallen from the rocks above.
Many parts of the valley were swampy, evidently from recently melted
snow, and in such places the _Primula_, noticed on the ascent,
occurred in great abundance, its scapes rising to the height of six to
eight inches, and bearing large globes of deep rose-coloured flowers.
Among the loose stones _Nepeta multibracteata_ was common. About three
miles from the top I passed the end of an exceedingly well-marked
moraine, which must have been deposited by a glacier at a time when,
from increased cold, these masses of ice stretched down much further
than they do at present. The remainder of the descent was again more
abrupt, but very bare, stony, and uninteresting. A single tree of
_Juniperus excelsa_ grew in one of the ravines, and below 14,000 feet
a species of berberry, with very small leaves, was common on dry stony
ground. I encamped at the small village of Kardong, at 13,500 feet.
The cultivation round this village was on a level plain without any
terracing.

  [Illustration: Metamorphic rocks. Alluvium. Stream. Alluvium.
   Metamorphic rocks.]

    [Sidenote: KARDONG.
     _July, 1848._]

    [Sidenote: ALLUVIAL PLATFORMS.
     _July, 1848._]

On the 21st I proceeded to Karsar, a village on the bank of the Shayuk
river, distant about nine miles. A few hundred feet above the village
of Kardong the alluvial boulder clay had begun to occur in the valley,
and around the village, which occupied the end of a lateral ravine, it
was already very thick. From Kardong to the Shayuk this alluvium
continued in great quantity, forming elevated platforms, sloping very
gently from the mountains, and faced by steep, often quite
perpendicular cliffs. Where lateral ravines joined the main valley
the alluvium was deeply excavated by the little streams which
traversed them, and the road descended abruptly by steep and curiously
winding paths down the cliffs of clay, and among piles of boulders, to
re-ascend to the platform beyond the stream. Such a ravine, of great
depth, occurred just below Kardong. After crossing it the road lay
over the surface of the clay platform, which was nearly level, and
consequently at an increasing height above the bottom of the Kardong
valley, which rapidly diminished in elevation. This platform was
extremely barren, and quite devoid of water. Here and there isolated
rocky masses rose up through the alluvium. The rock was peculiar,
being very hard, and, as it were, porphyritic, with a black,
basaltic-looking matrix, quite homogeneous, in which numerous white
specks were diffused. In hand specimens and boulders, and even on a
near view of the hills, this rock appeared quite an igneous rock, but
when an extensive section was exposed, it could be seen to be
distinctly stratified.

    [Sidenote: KARSAR.
     _July, 1848._]

When within a short distance of the Shayuk valley, though still high
above it, the road turned to the left, and, leaving the alluvial
platform, proceeded among rugged rocky hills, in a direction parallel
to that river, at the same time descending somewhat rapidly to a
platform of modern lacustrine clay and conglomerate, which filled up
the whole of a deep recess in the mountains facing the Shayuk, to a
thickness of at least 1000 feet. The village of Karsar, at which I
encamped, lies in a deep ravine, excavated out of the clay formation
by a considerable stream, on both sides of which, for nearly a mile,
there is a belt of cultivation, very narrow where the stream issues
from the mountains, but gradually widening as it descends. Owing to
the sheltered situation, from the great height of the cliffs of clay
on both sides, the crops were exceedingly luxuriant, and fruit-trees
were plentiful, principally apples and apricots. Some very fine
walnut-trees also occurred.

From the same cause the herbaceous vegetation was particularly rich,
and I met with many species which were new to me. The banks of the
stream, from the point where it issued from among the mountains, were
everywhere bordered by large bushes of _Myricaria elegans_, now
adorned with masses of sweet-scented rose-coloured flowers. In the
lower part of the village-lands there were shady plantations of poplar
and willow, which seemed to be occasionally irrigated, in order that
they might produce a rich natural pasture. In these groves _Euphrasia
officinalis_, species of _Gentiana_, _Ranunculus_, _Potentilla_, and
_Carum_ grew most luxuriantly; a tall but very small-flowered
_Pedicularis_ was also very common. No less than three species of
_Orchideæ_ occurred, a family which more than any other dislikes
dryness: these were _Orchis latifolia_, an _Epipactis_, and an
_Herminium_. Many of the weeds of the cultivated fields were also new
and interesting: a _Hypecoum_, an _Elsholtzia_, and some species of
_Polygonum_, were those I particularly noted.

    [Sidenote: LACUSTRINE DEPOSIT.
     _July, 1848._]

The lacustrine formation of Karsar consists mostly of very pure white
clay, horizontally stratified; but at the lower end of the ravine,
where it is about to expand into the open plain of the Shayuk, a
tolerably solid but still very friable sandstone, the strata of which
were also quite horizontal, occurred under the clay. I saw no
fossils, but when the clay is examined with care, they will probably
be occasionally detected. At all events, as this clay formation is at
least a thousand feet thick, if we take into consideration the open
nature of the whole valley of Nubra, there can be no doubt that it
must have been deposited from the same waters with the very similar
clay which I found at Tertse, in lower Nubra, in October, 1847, and
that it is therefore lacustrine. If this be admitted, it seems
impossible to escape from the conclusion, that the deposits in the
Kardong valley, (of which I have given an imaginary section in page
398,) though different in appearance, belong to the same lake. Now,
these attain an elevation of 13,500 feet and upwards, as they commence
above Kardong: the level of the surface of the Nubra lake can
therefore hardly have been less than 14,000 feet; so that it must have
extended up the Tanktse valley, almost as far as the low pass by which
that district is separated from the Pangong lake.

    [Sidenote: DISKIT.
     _July, 1848._]

From Karsar, I marched on the 25th of July, down the valley of the
Shayuk, to Diskit. The earlier part of the road, after ascending
abruptly out of the Karsar ravine, lay over the clay platform, which
was perfectly flat; but after about four miles, it descended nearly to
the level of the river, whose wide gravelly plain now extended on the
south side to the very foot of the mountains, the lacustrine beds
having been entirely removed. The plain was traversed by several small
streamlets, apparently derived in a great measure from the river, the
water of which seemed to sink among the gravel and sand of its bed,
and to spring up again at a distance from the main channel. One of
these streams ran at the extreme edge of the plain, close under the
cliffs, which here rose almost precipitously to a great height. Its
banks were very saline, and in the neighbourhood of Diskit a great
part of the plain was encrusted with soda.

The cultivated lands of the village, which is of considerable size,
lie on a sloping bank, rising rather steeply out of the plain. Many
apricot-trees grow among the houses, some of which were large enough
to afford a shade under which a tent could be pitched. The vegetation
was in general the same as at Karsar, but a white-flowered _Allium_
was new, as well as a species of _Chloris_, which was abundant in the
pastures. A very small _Cyperus_, which grew in the water-courses,
appeared to be a dwarf state of a species common in the plains of
India, and, with the _Chloris_, which is a tropical grass, was
interesting as an indication of the considerable heat of the summer
climate in the valley of the Shayuk, notwithstanding its great
elevation.

    [Sidenote: PASSAGE OF SHAYUK RIVER.
     _July, 1848._]

The village of Diskit is almost exactly opposite the place where the
Nubra river joins the Shayuk from the northward. In October, 1847, I
had crossed the Shayuk five or six miles above Karsar, and descended
along its right bank, but during the hot months this route is not
practicable, as there are no bridges, and the river is too deep to be
forded anywhere except just at its junction with that of Nubra, where
the wide gravelly plain of the Shayuk expands to its greatest
diameter, and the river is divided into numerous branches.

The greater part of the 26th of July was occupied by the passage of
the Shayuk, which was both tedious and difficult, the river being now
nearly at its greatest height. The first branch was nearly two miles
from Diskit, the intervening gravelly plain being partly swampy, with
a few bushes of _Hippophaë_, _Tamarix_, and _Myricaria_. There were
four large branches to be crossed, besides several of smaller size.
Nearly a mile of sand separated the last large branch from the
remainder, and the ford was a most intricate one, each branch being
crossed obliquely and at a different point from the adjacent ones. The
united breadth of all the streams could not, I think, have been less
than half a mile. The velocity of the water was so great, that though
the depth nowhere, I think, exceeded three and a half feet, and was
more usually about two and a half, people on foot appeared to have the
utmost difficulty in retaining their footing, and the loaded men had
to be supported by one or two without loads on each side. In the more
difficult parts, two men placed themselves on each side of my horse's
head, to guide him in the proper road, and two more at each stirrup to
give him support in case of need. When in the centre of the current,
where, from the necessity of keeping my eye on the horse's motions, I
had to look at the water, I found it impossible to avoid a feeling of
giddiness, and an impression that horse and rider were being hurried
upwards with extreme velocity in a direction contrary to the stream.
These very rapid portions, however, were never more than ten or twenty
yards broad; the remainder was more moderate and shallower.

    [Sidenote: LYAKJUNG.
     _July, 1848._]

After safely effecting the passage with all my party and baggage, I
proceeded about a mile over loose sand, and encamped at the village of
Lyakjung, situated at the border of the low plain of the river, at the
point of union of the two valleys. The Shayuk valley is visible from
this place as far as the large village of Hundar, about ten miles, the
river running throughout that distance through a wide gravelly plain,
but with high rocky mountains on both sides.

    [Sidenote: VALLEY OF NUBRA.
     _July, 1848._]

From the 27th of July till the 9th of August, I remained in the valley
of Nubra, the necessary preparations for my further journey, which was
to be entirely through an uninhabited country, requiring considerable
time. During this interval, I moved from place to place in the valley,
which is well inhabited and rather pretty. The river is in the hot
months very large and rapid, and has its origin, no doubt, in the
great snowy mountains to the north. I crossed it twice a little above
the town of Chirasa, and found its current quite as strong as that of
the Shayuk, and in many places as deep, but its breadth was
considerably less. In one of the channels, a lad, carrying a light
bundle, was carried away by the stream, and rolled over repeatedly in
the water, after being separated from his load, before he was picked
up by a number of men who hastened to his assistance. The difficulty
of crossing was much increased by numerous quicksands, which made it
necessary to proceed by a tortuous path, and which were evidently very
liable to shift, as the guides proceeded very cautiously, and more
than once abandoned a ford on finding the footing insecure.

The general appearance of the valley of Nubra is very agreeable, and
superior to that of any other part of Tibet at the same elevation. The
villages are well wooded, with orchards of apricot-trees, and with
poplars and willows, which are either planted in rows, or scattered
irregularly in meadows on the skirts of the cultivated lands: the
willows, when not pollarded, attain a large size, and afford an ample
shade. The fields are carefully enclosed with walls, or hedges of
_Hippophaë_, or with a fence of the dead branches of that plant. Green
and shady lanes, bordered by high _Hippophaë_ hedges, full of
_Clematis_ and rose-bushes, lead through the village lands. The crops
are chiefly wheat and barley, with a few fields of millet (_Panicum
miliaceum_), buckwheat, and rape. There is also much pasture,
particularly along the little streams, and in fields near the river,
which are often swampy.

The beauty of the cultivated tracts is much enhanced by the utter
sterility of the drier parts of the plain, which are either gravelly
or stony, and utterly barren, except that occasionally from some
peculiarity of soil or position there is a considerable extent of
clayey soil not low enough to be swampy, but not remote from water,
covered with short turf much encrusted with soda. These grassy plains
are more common in the upper part of the district, and are perhaps
connected with springs containing carbonate of soda in solution[23].

    [Sidenote: VEGETATION OF NUBRA.
     _August, 1848._]

Except from the more advanced period of the season, the flora of
Nubra differed but little from that of Le. Species of _Artemisia_,
_Labiatæ_, and _Chenopodiaceæ_, were now in full flower on the more
desert and stony tracts, in which a shrubby _Lycium_ (which is not
found on the Indus) was also common. _Chenopodiaceæ_ had become
extremely plentiful, and belonged to many different genera: shrubby
species of _Eurotia_ and _Caroxylon_ were common, but the greater
number were herbaceous, and belonged to the genera _Chenopodium_,
_Ambrina_, _Salsola_, _Echinopsilon_, and Corispermum. A species of
thistle grew on barren soil, particularly where the ground was saline;
on the salt soil, _Glaux_, a little _Crucifera_, and a _Polygonum_
were the most abundant plants. _Mulgedium Tataricum_, a _Galium_ (very
like _G. Aparine_), and a scandent species of _Vincetoxicum_, were
frequent in hedges; and species of _Mentha_, _Erodium_, _Epilobium_,
_Lepidium_, and _Matthiola_, all common plants at Le, being now in
full flower, attracted notice more than at an earlier period. A very
tall species of grass (_Melica?_) in large and elegant tufts, often
six feet high, was one of the most ornamental plants in the valley;
while as uncommon forms I may enumerate a prickly _Sophora_,
_Orobanche_, _Parietaria_, and in ponds a little _Utricularia_,
closely resembling a European species.

A small-leaved elm, which is common near Tagar, is apparently
wild,--at least it is not acknowledged by the inhabitants as a
cultivated tree. I have not observed this tree elsewhere in Tibet, but
Mr. Vigne mentions that he met with an elm in the mountains between
Shigar and Khapalu. It appears to be the same with a species common in
the forests of the lower valleys of Kashmir.

    [Sidenote: HOT SPRINGS.
     _August, 1848._]

About a mile from the large village of Panamik are the hot springs
formerly visited by Moorcroft. They are two in number, and spring from
the rocky mountain-side, about a hundred yards from the edge of the
plain. The temperature of the water in the spring which I tried was
170·5°. It was faintly sulphurous both in taste and smell, but not
perceptibly saline, and deposited a thick calcareous incrustation on
everything within its reach.

To the south of Panamik the rocks of Nubra are chiefly black slate,
but transported blocks of granite are everywhere common, and at that
village the latter rock descends to the level of the river, and
continues to form the whole mass of the mountains on the left side of
the valley as far as I continued along it. On the right side there
were indications of stratification on the steep sides of the
mountains, and, from the colour, the rock there appeared to be partly
granite and partly metamorphic slate.

FOOTNOTES:

[20] Travels, vol. ii. p. 11.

[21] Written, I believe, _Snurla_, as Le is written _Sle_, and Nimo,
_Snimo_, the initial letter being in all three mute. Many similar
instances might be given, silent initial letters occurring very
commonly in the written language of Tibet. It admits of much doubt
whether the best mode of spelling be according to the pronunciation,
or as the words are written: I have preferred the former, as less
likely to mislead.

[22] I do not know whether or not to attribute to this plant a
remarkable disease which, on my return down the Indus in September, I
found in the village of Saspola. At least thirty people in that
village, of all ages from a full-grown man to an infant, and of both
sexes indifferently, had been attacked with paralysis within the last
two years. The palsy was confined to the lower extremities, and
differed much in degree. The sufferers were in other respects the most
healthy and good-looking portion of the inhabitants. The people
themselves were quite at a loss to assign a cause for this
extraordinary affection, and, except in some article of diet, I was
unable to think of any.

[23] This view has been suggested to me by Dr. R. D. Thomson, who has
paid much attention to the chemical contents of springs, and is at
present engaged in examining the saline matters which I brought with
me from Tibet.

CHAPTER XIV.

     Start for Karakoram -- Steep ascent out of Nubra valley -- Meet
     a party of Merchants from Yarkand -- View from summit of pass
     -- Rapid torrent -- Large glacier -- Steep moraines -- Alpine
     vegetation -- Numerous glaciers -- Lakes -- Glacier on crest of
     Sassar pass -- Sassar -- Cross Shayuk river -- Murgai --
     Limestone rocks -- Ascend Murgai Valley to 16,800 feet --
     Singular limestone formation -- Open plain above 17,000 feet --
     Re-cross Shayuk river -- Karakoram pass -- Return to Sassar --
     Glaciers of Sassar -- Return to Le -- Start for Kashmir --
     Lamayura -- Phatu pass -- Kanji river -- Namika pass -- Molbil
     Pashkyum -- Kargil -- Dras -- Zoji pass -- Kashmir -- Lahore --
     Completion of journey.

Having at last completed the preparations necessary for a journey of
twenty days through uninhabited regions, I started on the 9th of
August from the village of Taksha. My first day's journey lay up the
Nubra valley, which continued wide, though the alluvial platforms were
destitute of cultivation, and quite barren. In several places (always
opposite to ravines) they were covered with enormous boulders, which
had all the appearance of having been brought to the position they
occupied by glaciers. Two small villages were seen, both on the west
bank of the river. Four miles from Taksha I crossed, by a good wooden
bridge, a large stream which descended from the mountains on my right
hand through an exceedingly rocky gorge. After seven miles and
a half, I found that I had reached the point at which the road
followed by the merchants in travelling from Le to Yarkand leaves the
valley of Nubra. It was too late in the day to attempt the ascent of
the ridge to the right; I therefore encamped in a grove of willows,
which formed a belt along the margin of a stream whose bed was now
quite dry, its scanty supply of water having been diverted into an
artificial channel for the irrigation of a couple of fields of
indifferent barley not far off.

  [Illustration: SKETCH MAP of Route from =NUBRA TO KARAKORAM=.
   _by Dr. T. Thomson._]

In the valley of Nubra, beyond this encamping ground, which is known
by the name of Changlung, there are, I believe, only three small
villages, the most distant of which appeared to be not more than five
or six miles off. In the direction of the valley, which was still
north-north-west, very lofty mountains were visible at no great
distance, all with snowy tops, and generally with heavy snow-beds and
glaciers in their hollows; and according to the statement of my
guides, the river at the distance of less than two days' journey
issues from beneath a glacier, by which all passage is stopped[24].

    [Sidenote: ASCENT OUT OF NUBRA VALLEY.
     _August, 1848._]

On the 10th of August I started at daybreak, immediately commencing
the ascent of the mountain range which enclosed the valley on the
east. The mountain was exceedingly steep, indeed almost precipitous,
and the road proceeded in a zigzag direction over bare granite rock,
with scarce a vestige of vegetation. During the ascent I had a good
view of the valley, and of the mountain range which bounded it on the
south-west; large patches of snow lay on its peaks, and here and there
I saw a small glacier in its ravines. The upper part of the valleys by
which these mountains were furrowed had a very moderate slope, but
from about 14,000 feet down to the bottom they were extremely abrupt.

    [Sidenote: YARKAND MERCHANTS.
     _August, 1848._]

After about 3500 feet of extremely laborious climbing, I arrived at a
small level plain, perhaps two hundred yards long and forty or fifty
wide, evidently much frequented as a resting-place by travellers, a
small pool of water being the inducement. I here met a party of
merchants on their way from Yarkand to Le. Their goods were conveyed
by ponies, apparently much exhausted by their long journey through
desert country. I had noticed, on the way up the mountain, that the
road was lined by numerous skeletons and scattered bones of horses; I
had also seen one or two of the same animals recently dead, and the
appearance of these loaded ponies enabled me to understand the cause
of the great mortality. Many of the unfortunate animals appeared
scarcely to have strength to accomplish the few miles of descent which
still intervened between them and plenty of food. The main reliance of
the merchants for the support of their horses is on corn carried with
them, to which there must be a limit, otherwise they would carry
nothing but their own food.

    [Sidenote: SUMMIT OF PASS.
     _August, 1848._]

From this halting-place the remainder of the ascent was less abrupt,
though still steep and extremely stony. There was, however, a little
more vegetation than on the lower part, where the barren rocks, except
at the very base, produced scarcely anything but _Ephedra_, a dwarf
species of _Rhamnus_, and tufts of the hardy _Statice_. Higher up,
several species of _Astragalus_ and _Artemisia_ were plentiful, with
_Lithospermum euchromon_, _Dracocephalum heterophyllum_, and several
_Chenopodiaceæ_ and grasses. The top of the ridge had an elevation of
15,300 feet, but from its extreme aridity and rockiness, and its
consequent elevated temperature, no alpine plants occurred. On
reaching the top I was able to see something of the road before me,
regarding which I had previously had little information, except in
accounts of its extreme difficulty. These I had been inclined to
consider exaggerated, but the prospect before me was undoubtedly far
from tempting. Immediately below lay a narrow stony valley, to which,
from the spot on which I stood, the descent was almost perpendicular.
Opposite to me there was a range of mountains higher than that on
which I stood, with here and there a patch of snow. The valley below
me was partly occupied by a mass of loose alluvial conglomerate,
through which the stream had excavated a deep ravine; its direction
was south-south-west, and there could be no doubt that the stream
which I had crossed the day before, about half-way, was that which
drained the valley upon which I now looked down. On the top of the
alluvial platform, on the opposite side, there was a narrow strip of
green, indicating a small patch of cultivation, without, however, any
habitation, the crop being apparently left to its fate till ready for
the reaper. In every other direction, stones and snow were alone
visible.

    [Sidenote: BARREN VALLEY.
     _August, 1848._]

I descended obliquely into the valley, so as to reach it about a mile
and a half higher up than the spot from which it was first visible.
The descent was very laborious, a great part of it being covered with
loose gravel or coarse sand, produced by the disintegration of the
granite rocks. There was rather more vegetation than on the opposite
face, and I collected a number of plants which I had not recently met
with; a _Nepeta_, _Scrophularia_, _Cicer_, and _Heracleum_, and two
shrubby _Potentillæ_, were the commonest species. One of the species
of _Potentilla_ (_P. discolor_ of Jacquemont) was remarkable for
exciting violent sneezing when touched or shaken; this curious
property seemed to be owing to a very fine dust which covered the
under surface of the leaves.

After reaching the surface of the alluvial platform overhanging the
stream, about half a mile of gentle ascent among large stones brought
me, after a journey of ten miles, to my encamping ground. This was a
level spot, close to a lateral torrent, which had its source in a
snow-bed in the mountains on the left, and was rushing in a most
impetuous milk-white torrent over immense boulders, to unite itself to
the main stream. The elevation of my camp was about 14,000 feet.

On the morning of the 11th, at starting, I crossed the torrent close
to camp. Although much less considerable than it had been the previous
afternoon, still, from its great rapidity and the number of boulders
in its bed, the crossing was not accomplished without difficulty by
the laden animals, who carried the greater part of my baggage. I
crossed it myself by leaping from boulder to boulder, which would have
been quite impossible in the afternoon of the previous day, when it
was swollen by the action of the sun upon the snow. The road lay up
the valley parallel to the river, among a most extraordinary
accumulation of granite boulders of all sizes, from one to ten feet in
diameter, piled upon one another in vast heaps, and evidently
transported by a former glacier. After about half a mile, I crossed
the river by a wooden bridge of two or three beams, which must have
been brought from Nubra for the purpose, as no timber of any sort
grows in the valley. The stream was very rapid and muddy. A mile
further, a torrent descending from the mountains on the right was
crossed, and soon after I got upon the bank of the main stream, now
more tranquil and fordable. The road for the remainder of the march
lay along its left bank, over boulders and gravel, ascending now and
then a little way on steep sloping banks, entirely composed of
transported materials. I encamped on a level, somewhat grassy spot of
ground, which was evidently commonly used as a halting-place, having
travelled only four and a half miles, an unnecessarily short day's
work. I had throughout my journey had considerable difficulty in
fixing the marches at proper lengths, the inhabitants having no
measure of distance but the day's journey. In the present instance, my
tent was pitched, and most of the party had commenced to cook, or were
dispersed to collect fuel, long before my arrival, so that I was
obliged to rest content for the day.

    [Sidenote: GLACIER.
     _August, 1848._]

The course travelled during the day had been north-north-east, but I
had evidently arrived nearly as far as was practicable in that
direction, for about half a mile in front was the bluff end of a very
large glacier, filling up the continuation of the valley. This
glacier, which was nearly half a mile wide, was covered almost
entirely with stones and earth, very little of its surface being
visible, and the dirty black colour of its terminating cliff showing
how much soil had been mixed up with it in its progress. The elevation
of my tent was about 14,500 feet, and the termination of the glacier
may have been 250 feet higher. All around the mountains were very
lofty, their tops covered with snow, which nowhere came within 2000
feet at least of the valley, even on northern exposures. Granite was
everywhere the prevailing rock, but on the higher mountain slopes,
which were often precipitous, it was much intermixed with a dark rock,
probably clay-slate.

    [Sidenote: ALPINE NETTLE.
     _August, 1848._]

During the day I had scarcely seen any vegetation, except when close
to the edge of the stream. Among the boulders and on the bare stony
ground there was frequently not a vestige of herbage. Near one of the
ravines I found the white shrubby _Potentilla_, along with an
exceedingly pretty prostrate plant, with bright rose-coloured flowers,
belonging to the order of _Compositæ_: it was a species of the genus
_Allardia_, described by M. Decaisne from the collections of
Jacquemont, by whom it was found in Piti. One of the very few alpine
plants which I saw during the day was a little gentian, common among
the turf close to my tent. Round camp a species of nettle was
plentiful, seemingly, like others of the genus, attracted by the
nitrogenous nature of the soil of an encamping ground much frequented
by shepherds with their flocks. The sting of this nettle, though
rather faint, was quite perceptible. It was decidedly an alpine plant,
which is rather uncommon, not only in the genus, but the order to
which it belongs.

The journey of the 12th of August commenced by a steep ascent into a
lateral valley descending from the eastward. The hill-side up which I
climbed (apparently the bluff termination of an ancient moraine) was
very stony and dry. When a sufficient elevation above my encampment
had been gained, I obtained a commanding view of the glacier which
occupied the continuation of the main valley. It was nearly straight,
and, as I believe, at least five or six miles long; distances,
however, are so difficult to estimate on snow, that this must be
regarded as a mere guess. The inclination of its surface was
considerable; but, while the distance remained doubtful, no just
estimate of the height of the ridge from which it descended could be
made. On each side, two or three lateral glaciers, descending from the
mountains by which it was enclosed, contributed to increase its size,
all loaded with heaps of stones, which had at the lower end of the
central glacier so accumulated as completely to cover its whole
surface.

    [Sidenote: MORAINES.
     _August, 1848._]

After 800 or 1000 feet of ascent I found that I had attained the level
of the lateral valley, along which the road ran, and that the
remainder of the way was much more gentle, but exceedingly fatiguing,
from its excessive roughness, and from the great elevation, which made
the slightest exertion difficult. On both sides were high ranges of
mountains, which had much snow on their summits, and in one or two
ravines there was a small snow-bed or incipient glacier, but the
distance from the crest of the ridge not being great, no glacier of
any length was formed. On the left hand, the mountains were steeper
and higher than those on the right, and several bulky glaciers on
very steep slopes occupied their ravines. None of these entered the
valley along which my road lay, but their moraines often projected to
its very centre, forming immense piles of angular fragments of rocks,
which attained, in more than one place, a height of several hundred
feet, and indicated that the glaciers had at some former period
advanced much further than they now do. The main valley was itself
everywhere covered with boulders; in some places large blocks, ten to
twenty feet in diameter, were arranged at moderate distances from one
another, but more frequently the fragments were all small.

    [Sidenote: SASSAR PASS.
     _August, 1848._]

After the first steep ascent, the slope of the valley was uniformly
gentle, except when a steep-sided moraine had to be passed. Latterly a
few small patches of snow occurred in the valley. I encamped at 16,600
feet, on a level grassy spot of ground close to a small circular plain
resembling the bed of a lake, and still partially covered with snow.
The snow level on the mountains to the south had approached within
less than one hundred feet of the level of the plain. Though the
distance travelled during the day was only six miles, I felt a good
deal fatigued, and suffered much from headache, caused by the
rarefaction of the air.

From the great quantity of snow on the mountains all around, there had
been throughout the day an abundance of moisture, and vegetation was
in consequence much more plentiful than usual. The plants were all
alpine, and being mostly diminutive, had to be sought in the crevices
of rocks, and among the stones which everywhere abounded. The banks of
the stream were frequently grassy, and there was a great deal of
marshy ground. Most of the plants obtained were in full flower, and
the colours were in general very bright, and sufficiently varied. By
far the greater part belonged to the same genera which prevail on
European mountains, such as _Draba_, _Saxifraga_, _Sibbaldia_,
_Potentilla_, _Ranunculus_, _Papaver_, _Pedicularis_, _Cerastium_,
_Leontopodium_, and _Saussurea_. The most remarkable forms were three
species of _Allardia_, several _Astragali_, a one-flowered _Lychnis_,
_Delphinium Brunonianum_, and a _Ligularia_. The alpine nettle was
common on many parts of the road, chiefly near places frequented by
the shepherds as halting-places.

Next day at starting I proceeded along the edge of the small plain
close to which I had been encamped. On the right hand was an ancient
moraine, which prevented me from seeing the road in advance. At the
upper end of the plain I found a small streamlet running parallel to
the moraine; and about a mile from camp I reached the end of a small
glacier, from which the streamlet had its origin. Crossing the latter,
which was still partially frozen, I ascended in a deep hollow between
the left side of the glacier and the moraine. The icy mass had not yet
begun to thaw, the temperature being still below freezing. After half
a mile I ascended on the surface of the ice, and as soon as I did so,
was enabled to see that the glacier had its origin in a ravine on the
south, and entered the main valley almost opposite to me. The great
body of the ice took a westerly direction, forming the glacier along
which I had been travelling; but a portion formed a cliff to the
eastward, which dipped abruptly into a small, apparently deep lake. At
the distance of perhaps five hundred yards there was another glacier,
which descended from a valley in the northern range of mountains, and,
like the one on which I stood, presented a perpendicular wall to the
little lake. Right and left of the lake were enormous piles of
boulders, occupying the interval between its margin and the mountains,
or rather filling up a portion of the space which it would otherwise
have occupied. Into this very singular hollow I descended, on a steep
icy slope, and passing along the northern margin of the lake, ascended
on the glacier beyond; as before, between the ice and moraine.

On reaching the surface of the second glacier, I found that a similar
but smaller depression lay beyond it to the east, in which also there
was a small lake, with another mass of ice beyond it. This third
glacier also came from the north, and was a much more formidable mass
than those which had already been crossed. It was very steep, and was
covered with snow, which was beginning to thaw more than was
convenient. When at the highest part, I found that though apparently
nearly level, it sloped downwards sensibly, though very slightly for
nearly half a mile, in an easterly direction. It was evident that I
had now reached the highest part of the ascent, and that the crest of
the pass was covered by this glacier. I did not make any observation
to determine its altitude, but the ascent from camp was very moderate,
not, I think, exceeding a thousand feet. Assuming this estimate to be
correct, the height of the pass would be about 17,600 feet, which I
believe will prove not far from the truth.

On so icy an ascent vegetation could not be expected to be plentiful;
still, even in the depressions between the glaciers, the crevices
among the boulders produced a few plants, mostly the same as those
observed the day before, but three species of _Saussurea_ were the
most common of all. Before arriving at the first glacier, the
beautiful _Primula_ collected on the pass above Le was met with in
great abundance.

    [Sidenote: SASSAR.
     _August, 1848._]

For about half a mile, as I have said, the slope of the glacier was
just perceptible; beyond that distance the descent was abrupt. On
reaching the end of the level portion, I obtained an excellent view to
the eastward, in which direction a wide valley was seen at a distance
of several miles. Through this valley, from left to right, ran a
considerable river, which proved to be the Shayuk. Beyond the river,
rocky mountains were seen, apparently nearly as high as those near at
hand, and perfectly barren. In descending from the pass, I soon left
the surface of the ice, which, as soon as the slope became abrupt, was
too rugged to be walked over. I then got upon the moraine; about
half-way down, the glacier, which had latterly been almost entirely
covered with debris, came to an end, but a moraine continued a long
way down, and the remainder of the descent was very stony. I encamped
at about 15,400 feet on a dry gravelly plain, close to the broad
valley of the Shayuk, but at least 500 feet above it. To the right, in
a very deep ravine, was a small stream, on the banks of which were
patches of snow. The name of the ground on which I encamped, which is
a usual halting-place, was Sassar, and the Turki merchants call the
pass also by the same name.

    [Sidenote: PLAIN OF SHAYUK RIVER.
     _August, 1848._]

From Sassar not more than three or four miles of the upward course of
the river were visible, but within that distance three glaciers were
in sight. Two of these stopped short of the valley, while the third,
which was at the most distant point visible, appeared to descend to
the river. An enormous precipice, which must have been at least 3000
feet in height, rose on the opposite side of the valley beyond the
glaciers. Downward the valley of the Shayuk was seen for nearly ten
miles, as a wide gravelly plain, with high rugged mountains on both
sides.

On the morning after my arrival at Sassar, it was snowing slightly at
daybreak, and continued to do so till near noon. The snow melted
almost immediately on the level ground, but on the mountain-sides it
lay all day, down as low as the level of my tent. The afternoon was
dull and stormy, but no more snow fell. This unfavourable weather was
of less consequence, because I had determined to halt in order to make
fresh arrangements for my baggage, being advised not to take any
cattle beyond Sassar, the roads in advance being very bad. I
afterwards found that they were gravelly, which is more injurious than
even rock to the unprotected feet of the Tibetan bullock.

The gravelly sloping hills round my encampment were covered with
abundance of vegetation, but few of the species were alpine, and
almost all were familiar to me. A species of _Allium_, with purple
flowers and broad strap-shaped leaves, was the most plentiful of all.
_Thermopsis_ was frequent, in fruit; other common plants were species
of _Artemisia_, _Cynoglossum_, _Cicer_, and _Dracocephalum_. The only
new species were a very handsome dark purple _Nepeta_, which grew in
large tufts among loose shingle, and a tall _Saussurea_, by far the
largest species of the genus which I had found in Tibet, but I believe
one of those described from Jacquemont's collections. A species of
_Rheum_ occurred occasionally on dry stony places, but it was the same
which I had found several times before.

On the 15th of August I resumed my journey. The morning was misty,
with a few flakes of snow at intervals, and the sky remained overcast
all day, with high squalls of wind. My road lay across the Shayuk, but
I found it necessary to ascend about half a mile on the high bank
before I reached a place where it was possible to descend to its
gravelly plain, which was more than half a mile wide, and quite
destitute of any kind of vegetation. The river was running in several
channels, with an average depth of about a foot and a half; in one
place only it was as much as two feet. The current ran with
considerable rapidity.

On the opposite side of the plain of the Shayuk, I entered an
extremely narrow ravine, bounded by precipices of black slate, down
which ran a small stream, which crossed at every turn of the ravine
from one side to the other, generally close to the rocky wall, and had
to be forded a great number of times. After a mile and a half, the
road, suddenly quitting the ravine, turned to the right, and ascended
by a steep pathway to a wide, very gently rising plain, bounded on
both sides by snowy mountains. This plain was partly grassy, but
mostly composed of hard dry clay. In a few spots where snow appeared
recently to have lain, the clay was soft and treacherous, sinking
under the feet. About a mile's walk over this plain brought me to the
highest part of it, beyond which it began to slope to the eastward, at
first very gently but afterwards more rapidly. Many large isolated
boulders were observed on its surface. It was curious to observe that
the gravel produced by the disintegration of the mountains (chiefly, I
suppose, by snow-slips in winter) differed in colour on the two sides
of the valley, and that the line of demarcation followed very closely
the centre of the valley. The northern mountains, being granitic,
produced a hard quartzy gravel, while those to the south, which were
schistose, contributed a dark-coloured gravel of sharp slaty
fragments. On the lower part of the descent, a small rivulet made its
appearance in the centre of the plain, and I encamped, after nine and
a half miles, close to an open valley of considerable size, whose
course seemed to be south-east.

    [Sidenote: MURGAI.
     _August, 1848._]

This encamping-ground is called by the Turki merchants Murgai, by the
Tibetans, Murgo-Chumik; the former name being probably a corruption of
the latter. It was the last place at which I was to expect a
sufficiency of fuel, or even, with rare exceptions, of grass for my
horse, which, though not often used, I was unwilling to leave behind,
lest I should by any accident be disabled from walking. The
temperature of boiling water here indicated an elevation of about
15,100 feet, but as the weather was stormy and threatening, this was
probably several hundred feet more than the truth. A number of springs
appeared to break out of the ground close to my tent, where there was
a considerable extent of boggy pasture, much greener than is usual at
so great an elevation. A few bushes of _Myricaria elegans_ were the
only shrubs, but tufts of _Artemisia_ and _Eurotia_ were sufficiently
plentiful to produce an abundance of fuel. In the boggy meadow, a
pretty little species of _Primula_ was very abundant; the other plants
observed were a white _Pedicularis_, two species of _Triglochin_, and
some _Carices_ and grasses.

The morning of the 16th of August was bright and beautiful, the clouds
having been entirely dissipated during the night. The wide valley near
which I was encamped descended, as I was informed, to the Shayuk,
which it was said to join through a rocky gorge eight or ten miles
lower down than Sassar. Along its course the merchants are in the
habit of ascending at the season when the valley of the Shayuk is
followed all the way from Nubra, which is only practicable in early
spring and late in the autumn, at which times that river is fordable
throughout. It is a fortunate circumstance for the trade that there is
thus a choice of routes, for at these seasons the Sassar pass must be
in a great measure blocked up with snow.

    [Sidenote: ASCENT OF
     MURGAI VALLEY.
     _August, 1848._]

On my arrival at Murgai, I had observed that the mountains to the
north were very precipitous, and had been puzzled to decide what
direction the road might take. On starting, however, I found that it
lay along the upward course of the stream which watered the valley
before me, and which here issued from the mountains through a very
narrow ravine with high precipices on both sides. At first I ascended
to the top of a platform of conglomerate which lay at the base of the
mountains. The ground was strewed with fragments of limestone,
evidently derived from the mountains above; and about half a mile from
camp I passed a calcareous spring which had deposited large quantities
of tufa throughout the whole of the space between its source and the
face of the precipice which overhung the river: the thickness of the
incrustation was, in front of the cliff, from six to eight feet. A
little further on, the road descended abruptly to the stream, and,
after crossing it several times within a few hundred yards, ascended
equally abruptly the steep stony slopes on its left bank, at a point
where its course, which had previously been nearly north, turned
rather suddenly to the eastward. On emerging from the ravine, two
small glaciers came in sight almost directly opposite, in branches of
a narrow and very deep gorge, which descended from the mountains to
the north nearly in the original direction of the ravine. The road
ascended to the height of at least 1000 feet, and then proceeded along
the steep slopes, alternately ascending and descending over very stony
ground, occasionally covered with loose limestone shingle. The stream
was visible below, running through a narrow rocky fissure.

After about a mile and a half, the road again descended to the river,
now a little wider, with a gravelly channel. Here I found that there
were two roads. One of these, for loaded animals, ascended steeply on
the north side, to the height of nearly 1000 feet, and again descended
very abruptly. The other was in the bed of the stream, which was
partially filled up with huge blocks of rock. The stream being almost
dry, I took the lower road, which for pedestrians was only
objectionable from its great roughness, and because it was necessary
to cross the rivulet occasionally. After about a quarter of a mile,
the ravine suddenly opened out into a gravelly plain nearly half a
mile in width, traversed by numerous branches of the little stream:
these were now almost dry, owing to the cloudy weather of the last few
days having in a great measure stopped the melting of the glaciers by
which they were supplied. Along this open plain I continued for nearly
five miles. In one place only it contracted again for a few hundred
yards into a gorge full of huge rocky masses heaped one on another, by
which it was apparently quite blocked up; this however was avoided by
a slight ascent among angular limestone fragments. On descending into
the plain again, I observed a very small patch of grassy ground on a
bank a few feet above the level of the stream, the only herbage seen
during the day. About a mile further on I encamped, after a march of
nine miles, on the south side of the plain, on a dry bank elevated
four or five feet above its gravelly bed. There was a sudden change in
the direction of the valley just at my encamping-ground, its further
course being in a direction west of north. The elevation of my tent
was very nearly 16,000 feet.

High, rugged, precipitous mountains, with snowy tops, rose on both
sides of the road during the whole of this day's journey. The rock
throughout the day was limestone, a few thin layers of slate excepted.
It varied much in colour, but was generally very dark and highly
crystalline, and often contained large masses of white calcareous
spar. It was distinctly stratified, and occasionally exhibited
obscure traces of what might be fossils, but which were too indistinct
to be relied upon. The principal mass of snow seen was nearly due
south of my encampment, but this was probably owing to the northerly
exposure of the mountains on that side. The vegetation observed during
the day was scanty in the extreme; _Eurotia_, a _Saussurea_ with very
viscid leaves, _Oxytropis chiliophylla_, and _Biebersteinia odora_
being almost the only plants on the stony slopes and shingle during
the first half of the way. On the gravelly plain there was no
vegetation at all, but on its margins a few scattered plants were
occasionally to be found, a _Pyrethrum_ and two or three _Cruciferæ_
being the species noted. The most remarkable plant observed during the
day was a species of _Alsine_ in dense hemispherical tufts, a foot or
more in diameter. This plant (the moss of Moorcroft's visit to Garu,
and of other travellers in and on the borders of Tibet) is a common
Tibetan plant at very great elevations, 16,000 feet being perhaps not
far from its lowest level[25].

On the 17th my road lay entirely along the gravelly plain in a
direction always considerably to the west of north. The plain
gradually narrowed as I advanced, and came to an end by contracting
into a rocky ravine, just as I halted for the day. The mountains on
the left were still very lofty; one glacier was seen on that side. On
the right the mountains were lower and quite without snow, but
extremely rugged and rocky. The slope of the valley was scarcely
perceptible, but I found at the end of my day's journey, which
amounted to twelve miles, that I had risen above 700 feet, the height
of my encampment being a little more than 16,700 feet. The day was
bright and sunny, and the stream, which, in the morning was quite
insignificant, not three feet wide and scarcely ankle-deep, had
increased much by the afternoon, and had become of a dirty red colour.
It was twenty feet wide, and a foot and a half deep, where I crossed
it just before halting. The vegetation was still more scanty than the
day before, though most of the plants then noted were again seen
occasionally. Small tufts of a little _Stipa_ were not uncommon,
constituting almost the only food for cattle, as patches of green
grass, a few feet in diameter, were only seen twice during the day.
Two very small _Saussureæ_ formed dense tufted masses on the surface
of the ground, and a little rose-coloured _Astragalus_ spread itself
prostrate over the gravel; indeed, this mode of growth seemed to be
characteristic either of the climate or soil, as I found, though
rarely, a species of _Myricaria_, with short thick wiry branches lying
flat on the ground and spreading into patches a yard in diameter.

    [Sidenote: REMARKABLE LIMESTONE.
     _August, 1848._]

Not far from the point where the direction of the valley changed so
suddenly, the blue or greyish massive but brittle limestone of the
higher mountains gave place to a rock of a very different appearance.
This was also a limestone, perfectly white, or with a very faint
yellowish or greyish tinge, and either quite amorphous, with a
saccharine texture, and often honeycombed, or composed of a congeries
of very minute crystals. Occasionally, but rarely, rolled pebbles
were seen in it. No traces of stratification were anywhere
discoverable, in which respect it differed very strikingly from the
limestone of the previous day, in which lines of stratification, much
contorted, were well seen in many sections exposed at different
heights. This remarkable limestone formed the rock on both sides of
the gravelly plain during the greater part of the day's journey. In
one place only metamorphic slate was seen below it, dipping at a high
angle to the north-east. The limestone was extremely brittle, and the
cliffs terminated above in sharp pinnacles of the most fantastic
shapes, while at the base they were covered with heaps of angular
debris[26]. A coarse conglomerate replaced the limestone during the
last mile previous to my encamping.

    [Sidenote: ELEVATED PLAIN OF KARAKORAM.
     _August, 1848._]

On the 18th of August, after following for a few hundred yards the
course of the stream through a narrow rocky gorge, the road turned
abruptly to the right, up a dry stony ravine, ascending rather
rapidly. The coarse conglomerate of the lower part of this ravine was
succeeded by a coarse sandstone, and that again by an incoherent
alluvial conglomerate with a clayey matrix. After a short distance,
the ravine widened out into a narrow, gravelly, moderately steep
valley, with low rounded hills on either side. By degrees, as I
increased my elevation, superb snowy mountains came in sight to the
south-west, and on attaining the top of the ascent an open, gravelly,
somewhat undulating plain lay before me, while behind a grand snowy
range was seen in perfection, forming apparently a continuous chain,
with a direction from south-east to north-west. The snow was to the
eye perfectly continuous in both directions as far as the mountains
were visible, and appeared everywhere to lie on the mountain-sides to
three and four thousand feet below their tops. As I had passed through
this apparent chain of mountains without rising above 16,000 feet, the
continuity of the snowy mass was of course a deception. Many very
lofty peaks rose above the others at intervals. The height of the more
distant ones I could not venture to estimate, but I felt at the time
fully convinced that a very high peak, just opposite to me, and
distant, according to bearings taken afterwards, about ten miles (in a
direct line) from the edge of the plain, was 6000 or 7000 feet higher
than the ground on which I stood, or at least 24,000 feet above the
level of the sea. I do not wish that any great degree of confidence
should be placed on this estimate, but I think it right that I should
state my impression at the time, formed without any wish to
exaggerate.

The stream along which I had ascended during the two last days lay in
a deep ravine far below the level of the plain. Its source was
evidently not far distant, and it issued no doubt from a large glacier
at the head of the gorge, though the slight upward slope of the plain
to the west prevented me from seeing its precise origin. In a
northerly direction the plain appeared to extend for six or seven
miles, and beyond it lay several ranges of mountains running from east
to west, but only very moderately patched with snow. Eastward the
plain diminished slightly in elevation for four or five miles, at
which distance there was a low range of hills, and immediately at
their foot a small stream apparently running to the northward. Beyond
these low hills were a number of lofty black peaks to the northward of
the great mass of snow, on the further side of which the country
probably dips to the eastward in the direction of Khoten. Every one of
my guides positively denied the existence of any road in that
direction; afraid, perhaps, that I might attempt to proceed by it; for
I learned afterwards, on my return to Le, from a merchant of Yarkand,
that there was an unfrequented path by which Khoten might be reached,
if the Chinese authorities were willing to permit it to be used.

My road lay across the open plain in a direction very little west of
north. The surface of the ground was covered with a few boulders and
many small pebbles, for the most part rolled, and very various in
composition; granite, greenstones of many sorts, amygdaloid,
limestone, and different-coloured slates, being all seen. Many of
these were encrusted with a calcareous concretion, and the whole plain
had the appearance of having formerly been the bed of a lake.
Skeletons and scattered bones of horses indicated with great exactness
the road across this arid tract, which seemed to be almost destitute
of either animal life or vegetation. The only living beings seen were
a few ravens, a hoopoe, and a small bird somewhat like a sparrow.
Tufts of the moss-like _Alsine_, referred to on the 17th, were the
only vegetation, except in the bed of a little rivulet near the middle
of the plain, which produced a few specimens of _Saussurea_ and
_Sibbaldia_. This streamlet rose in a large patch of snow about half
a mile to the westward, and ran towards the east, turning afterwards
nearly due north along the foot of a low range of hills mentioned
above. The elevation of its bed, which was the lowest part of the
table-land in the direction in which I crossed it, was 17,300 feet,
and the lowest part of the plain was immediately under the low hills
to the eastward, where it probably was about 17,000 feet.

There was no snow on the plain, except one patch close to its highest
part, in which the little rivulet had its source, and a very few
remnants on the shady side of a low undulating ridge, which crosses it
near its northern border. After about five miles, having been
ascending very gradually since leaving the banks of the stream, I
passed through an opening between two low gravelly hills, and found
myself looking down upon a wide valley, into which I descended very
gradually along a dry ravine. Passing a small patch of swampy, grassy
ground, at which I left my horse with a servant till my return, as
there was no food for him further on, I arrived, about two miles from
the point at which the valley just came in sight, at a small river
about thirty feet wide and ankle-deep, running from east to west.
According to the information of my guides, this was the river which
runs past Sassar,--in fact, the Shayuk. None of them had followed its
course, but they assured me that there was no doubt of the accuracy of
their statement, which indeed is confirmed by the fact (which I
mention on the authority of Yarkand merchants) that formerly
travellers used to ascend the Shayuk from Sassar, in order to reach
the Karakoram pass, instead of pursuing the circuitous route by which
I travelled; but that about ten or twelve years ago the glaciers above
Sassar descended so low as entirely to prevent any one passing in that
direction, for which reason it became necessary to adopt a new
road[27].

    [Sidenote: SHAYUK RIVER.
     _August, 1848._]

The course of the Shayuk was visible for several miles, running nearly
due west. Beyond that distance, it disappeared among rocky hills.
Fording the river, I ascended a steep bank, to get upon a stony
platform, over which I proceeded in a northerly direction, gradually
approaching a small stream which came from the north to join the
Shayuk. Passing a low rounded hill to the right, I descended after
about two miles into the ravine excavated by this little stream, and,
crossing it, encamped under low limestone rocks on its right bank
after a march of twelve miles. I did not ascertain the elevation of
this halting-ground, but, from the result of an experiment made at a
place which appeared nearly midway (in point of elevation) between it
and the bed of the Shayuk, where I got a boiling-point, indicating an
elevation of 17,000 feet, I estimate the bed of the river at 16,800
feet, and my encamping-ground of the 18th at 17,200 feet. The plain
all round seemed destitute of vegetation, so that, as on the two last
days, there was a great scarcity of fuel, which had to be collected
from a distance of many miles; and consisted only of the roots of a
small bushy _Artemisia_ or _Tanacetum_, which rose three or four
inches above the ground. During these three days, I suffered very
considerably from the effects of the rarefaction of the air, being
never free from a dull headache, which was increased on the slightest
exertion.

    [Sidenote: KARAKORAM PASS.
     _August, 1848._]

On the 19th of August, leaving my tent standing, I started to visit
the Karakoram pass, the limit of my journey to the northward. The
country round my halting-place was open, except to the north, where a
stream descended through a narrow valley from a range of hills, the
highest part of which was apparently about 3000 feet above me. All the
rivers had formed for themselves depressions in the platform of gravel
which was spread over the plain. At first I kept on the south bank of
the river close to which I had halted, but about a mile from camp I
crossed a large tributary which descended from the south-west, and
soon after, turning round the rocky termination of a low range of
hills, entered a narrow valley which came from a little west of
north-west. At the foot of the rocky point of the range were three
very small huts, built against the rock as a place of shelter for
travellers, in case of stormy or snowy weather; and bones of horses
were here scattered about the plain in greater profusion than usual.

    [Sidenote: VEGETATION OF KARAKORAM
     _August, 1848._]

I ascended this valley for about six miles: its width varied from 200
yards to about half a mile, gradually widening as I ascended. The
slope was throughout gentle. An accumulation of alluvium frequently
formed broad and gently sloping banks, which were cut into cliffs by
the river. Now and then large tracts covered with glacial boulders
were passed over; and several small streams were crossed, descending
from the northern mountains through narrow ravines. About eight miles
from my starting-point the road left the bank of the stream, and began
to ascend obliquely and gradually on the sides of the hills. The
course of the valley beyond where I left it continued unaltered,
sloping gently up to a large snow-bed, which covered the side of a
long sloping ridge four or five miles off. After a mile, I turned
suddenly to the right, and, ascending very steeply over fragments of
rock for four or five hundred yards, I found myself on the top of the
Karakoram pass--a rounded ridge connecting two hills which rose
somewhat abruptly to the height of perhaps 1000 feet above me. The
height of the pass was 18,200 feet, the boiling-point of water being
180·8°, and the temperature of the air about 50°. Towards the north,
much to my disappointment, there was no distant view. On that side the
descent was steep for about 500 yards, beyond which distance a small
streamlet occupied the middle of a very gently sloping valley, which
curved gradually to the left, and disappeared behind a stony ridge at
the distance of half a mile. The hills opposite to me were very
abrupt, and rose a little higher than the pass; they were quite
without snow, nor was there any on the pass itself, though large
patches lay on the shoulder of the hill to the right. To the south, on
the opposite side of the valley which I had ascended, the mountains,
which were sufficiently high to exclude entirely all view of the lofty
snowy mountain seen the day before, were round-topped and covered with
snow. Vegetation was entirely wanting on the top of the pass, but the
loose shingle with which it was covered was unfavourable to the growth
of plants, otherwise, no doubt, lichens at least would have been
seen. Large ravens were circling about overhead, apparently quite
unaffected by the rarity of the atmosphere, as they seemed to fly with
just as much ease as at the level of the sea.

The great extent of the modern alluvial deposit concealed in a great
measure the ancient rocks. At my encampment a ridge of very hard
limestone, dipping at a high angle, skirted the stream. Further up the
valley a hard slate occurred, and in another place a dark blue slate,
containing much iron pyrites, and crumbling rapidly when exposed to
the atmosphere. Fragments of this rock were scattered over the plain
in all states of decay. On the crest of the pass the rock _in situ_
was limestone, showing obscure traces of fossils, but too indistinct
to be determined; the shingle, which was scattered over the ridge, was
chiefly a brittle black clay-slate.

On my return no plants were met with till I had almost reached the
bank of the stream. The first species which occurred was a small
purple-flowered _Crucifera_ (_Parrya exscapa_ of Meyer). Throughout
the day the number of flowering plants observed was seventeen, of
which three were grasses, three _Saussureæ_, and two _Cruciferæ_;
there was also one species of each of the following genera, _Aster_,
_Nepeta_, _Gymnandra_, _Sedum_, _Lychnis_, _Potentilla_, and _Phaca_;
the dense-tufted _Alsine_, and a shrubby _Artemisia_ with yellow
flowers, complete the number. The only animals seen, besides ravens,
were a bird about the size of a sparrow, a bright metallic-coloured
carrion-fly, and a small dusky butterfly. Returning by the same road,
I arrived at my tent a little after sunset, the distance from the top
of the pass being about ten miles.

    [Sidenote: MURGAI RIVER.
     _August, 1848._]

While travelling at these great elevations the weather was uniformly
serene and beautiful. There was but little wind, and the sky was
bright and cloudless. At night the cold was severe, and the edges of
the streams were in the morning always frozen. On my return towards
Sassar I found that the bright sunny weather which had continued since
the 16th, had made a great alteration in the state of the stream in
the wide gravelly valley along which the road ran. It was now
impetuous and muddy, increasing considerably towards the afternoon,
when it ran in several channels, which were not always easily
fordable. In some places the gravel was throughout the whole width of
the plain saturated with water, and gave way under the feet, so that
it became necessary to ascend on the stony sloping banks on one side
or other, instead of following the centre of the valley. At Murgai, on
the evening of the 23rd of August, just after sunset, I felt three
slight shocks of an earthquake. On that day the weather again became
dull, and on the morning of the 24th there was a slight fall of snow
for about an hour.

The remarkable open plain to the south of the Karakoram pass occupies
a deep concavity in the great chain of the Kouenlun, which there
appears to form a curve, the convexity of which looks northward. The
main range to the eastward was distinctly visible, forming a range of
snowless, but certainly very lofty, black peaks beyond the sources of
the most eastern branch of the Shayuk; while the heavily-snowed
mountains, the summits of which were seen further east, were probably
also a part of the axis of the chain, which apparently bends round the
sources of the river of Khoten, or of some stream draining the
northern flanks of the Kouenlun. To the westward, no peaks rose behind
the snowy ridge which terminated the western branch of the Shayuk a
little west of the Karakoram pass, beyond which the surface probably
dips, while the axis of the Kouenlun bends to the southward, towards
the glaciers of the Nubra river.

    [Sidenote: SNOW LEVEL.
     _August, 1848._]

In crossing the open plain on my return towards Sassar, I had the
splendid snowy peaks to the south-west always in view, and was able to
form a tolerable estimate of their appearance and elevation. The range
was very heavily snowed, and from the lateness of the season but
little additional thaw could be expected. What seemed the highest peak
was very near, and its position could be determined by bearings with
little risk of error. It rose abruptly in the midst of a great mass of
snow, which filled the hollows and slopes of the range all around. The
surface of the plain over which I was travelling sloped very gently up
to the westward, and partly concealed the lower edge of the perpetual
snow on the mountains behind, the limit of which was, I think, between
17,500 and 18,000 feet. To the northward and eastward the snow-line
was certainly much higher. Here and there, where there was shade,
there were patches below 18,000 feet, but even up to 20,000 feet there
was no continuous snow. As the source of the snow-fall on these
mountains is no doubt the Indian Ocean to the south-west, the gradual
rise of the snow-level in advancing north-east, and the occurrence of
the highest peaks, and of the greatest mass of snow on branches of
the chain, and not on its main axis, are quite in accordance with what
is usually the case throughout every part of the Himalaya.

The occurrence of a nearly level plain, six or eight miles in
diameter, with a mean elevation of not less than 17,300 feet, is
certainly very remarkable. The ridge or watershed of the plain
appeared to me parallel to the deep ravine, excavated by the stream
along which I had travelled on the 17th of August, and at no great
distance from it, as the descent was abrupt. All the northern and
western part of this level tract was composed of loosely cohering
matters, and was possibly of lacustrine origin; but a much more
accurate acquaintance with the outline, structure, and elevation of
the plain will be necessary before any certain conclusion can be drawn
as to its age or origin.

    [Sidenote: GLACIERS OF SASSAR.
     _August, 1848._]

Before leaving Sassar, I visited the glaciers which descend into the
valley of the Shayuk, a little to the north of that place. The path at
first lay along the high platform on which I was encamped, which was
precipitous towards the Shayuk; it afterwards descended to the level
of the river, close to which I travelled for some distance over
enormous boulders. The bluff ends of two glaciers were seen high above
at the top of the precipitous alluvial bank, and after a walk of
upwards of three miles, I arrived at a most superb glacier, which,
descending a broad and deep valley in the mountains, and latterly in
the alluvial platform, entered the bed of the Shayuk at the bottom of
a deep bend, and fairly crossed the river, which flowed out below the
ice. On the opposite side of the river, the mountains were
precipitous a few hundred feet from the water's edge, but the stream
of ice did not extend to the foot of the precipice, but stopped a very
few feet up the opposite bank. I could of course only see the position
of the ice at the edge of the glacier: how far it extended in the
centre I could not tell.

The glacier was extremely rugged, being covered with huge sharp
pinnacles of ice, and I was obliged to ascend a long way parallel to
its side before I could find a place where it could be crossed. Near
its lower extremity it rose high above the surface of the plain, and
sloped rapidly down to the river: its sides were there scarped and
inaccessible, but higher up it lay in a deep hollow in the alluvial
conglomerate. A moment's reflection showed how impossible it was for
clay and boulders to resist the friction of such an enormous mass;
still I was much pleased to observe the glacier buried, as it were, in
a groove of its own forming, from the light which was thereby thrown
on the origin of the many broad, shallow, flat-bottomed valleys which
occasionally occur in the modern alluvial and lacustrine formations in
all parts of Tibet, as for instance at Karsar in Nubra, and at Bazgo
below Le. An ancient moraine, deposited at a period when the glacier
must have been much more bulky than it now is, skirted the edge of the
high bank of alluvium, and prevented the ice from being seen till
close at hand, and then only by mounting on the top of the pile of
boulders. Down this moraine, which on the face towards the glacier was
extremely steep and perhaps sixty feet high, I descended to the
surface of the present moraine. The descent required great caution,
many of the blocks being loose and easily displaced. When I had
reached the surface of the glacier, the passage was not difficult.
About a quarter of its width on each side was occupied by blocks of
stone; the centre was almost entirely ice, extremely irregular, and
here and there a little fissured. The pathway, which was only marked
by the footsteps of two men whom I had sent the day before to select a
place for crossing, at one time ascended to the top of a ridge of ice,
at another descended into a deep hollow. At the time I crossed (about
eleven A.M.) numerous streams of water had begun to flow in furrows on
the surface of the ice. The whole width was close upon half a mile,
and on the north side I ascended a steep moraine similar to that which
I had previously descended.

From the top of the bank on which the moraine rested, a second glacier
came in sight at the distance of a mile. My exploring party reported
that they had been unable to find a point at which this glacier could
be crossed, and as from the appearance of the mountains behind I felt
certain that after crossing it I should only arrive at a third, I did
not long persevere in trying to find a passage, but descended to its
extremity in order to see whether or not I could walk round it, as it
did not appear to enter the water. At the bottom of the valley it
spread out in a fan-shaped manner to the width of at least a mile;
perhaps indeed much more, for as I failed in getting round it, I was
unable to ascertain precisely. At its south-east corner, where it was
nearly a hundred yards from the river, a considerable stream, white
with suspended mud, was rushing out from beneath an arched vault of
ice, even before sunrise. To avoid fording this icy stream, the
margins of which were thickly frozen, I crossed with a good deal of
difficulty an angle of the end of the glacier. On its surface I found
several small moraines, which had sunk down into grooves ten or
fifteen feet deep, and had therefore been invisible from outside.
Further progress on the ice was stopped by cliffs which were not
accessible without ladders, so that I had to descend to the bank of
the Shayuk. I walked along between the ice and the river, till my
advance was stopped by the glacier fairly projecting into the water in
such a manner that I could not see anything of what lay beyond. The
icy wall being quite inaccessible, I could not get upon the surface of
the glacier to attempt to advance in that way, nor could I ford the
river, which was very deep.

The terminal cliff of the glacier varied in height from fifteen to
thirty feet, and a talus of large stones lay in front, evidently
deposited by it. Indeed, while I was there I saw several small stones
which projected from the face of the cliff, drop out by the melting of
the ice in which they were imbedded. Many cavities were seen in the
ice, from which large stones must have dropped out no longer ago than
the day before, and the stones which corresponded in size to them were
seen lying close at hand. Before I left the front of the glacier, the
heat of the sun having become considerable, rapid thaw had commenced;
rills of water trickled down its face in every direction, and the
sound of falling stones was to be heard on all sides. Now and then a
report as loud as that of a cannon was heard, caused, as I supposed,
by the fall of a very large boulder from one of the smaller glaciers,
which stopped abruptly at the top of the high cliff of alluvium.

Before quitting finally these magnificent glaciers, I ascended to a
height on the mountain-side in order to see whether or not there was
any lake in sight corresponding to that laid down, from information,
by Mr. Vigne as Nubra or Khundan Chu. The mountains were very steep
and stony, and were covered above 16,000 feet with snow, which had
fallen in a storm a few days before; I did not, therefore, get up to
any great elevation, probably not beyond 16,500 feet, but at that
height I could see nothing of the river beyond the second glacier,
though its course through the mountains could be traced distinctly
enough. It is, however, highly improbable that any permanent lake
exists. Such could, I think, only be formed by the stoppage of the
river by a glacier, an obstruction which could only be temporary, and
would inevitably be followed by a terrific inundation, such as is
known repeatedly to have devastated the valley of the Shayuk.

    [Sidenote: RETURN TO LE.
     _August, 1848._]

It had been my original intention, on my return from Karakoram, to
follow the course of the Shayuk all the way from Sassar to Nubra, but
on my return to the former place after visiting the pass, I found that
there was no probability of the road along the river being practicable
for at least three weeks, the depth of the stream, which requires
frequently to be forded, being still much too great; I was therefore
reluctantly compelled to return by the same route as that by which I
had reached Sassar. Early in September, I found the crops in Nubra
ripe, the barley being mostly cut; buckwheat and a few fields of
millet, however, were still quite green. The Shayuk had very
considerably diminished in size: one branch which in July had been
three feet deep was quite dry on the 6th of September. On the 11th of
that month I crossed the pass above Le, the state of which was a good
deal altered. The little lake, which on the 20th of July was still
frozen over, was now free of ice, nor was there any snow, except a
very few small patches, below the steep snow-bank on the northern
side. The snow, which had covered this steep descent, had melted away,
exposing a mass of ice, which was not crossed without a good deal of
difficulty and some little risk. Loaded cattle were unable to get to
the top of the pass till the afternoon. The snow on the south face had
almost entirely gone.

I reached Le just in time to escape some very unsettled weather,
during which snow fell on the mountains down to about 13,000 feet.
This was ushered in by very high wind, blowing in gusts from all
points of the compass. Heavy clouds formed, but always high: on the
14th there was a good deal of thunder, and during the following night
a smart shower of rain, which lasted about an hour.

The inhabitants were busy with the operations of harvest. A coarse
knife or rude sickle was employed to cut the wheat and barley as close
to the ground as possible; they were then tied into large bundles,
each sufficient for one load, which were carried (usually by women) to
the threshing-floors, not without considerable loss, from the ripeness
of the ears and the great bulk of the loads, which were rubbed against
every obstacle, particularly the narrow walls of the pathways between
the fields. The grain was trodden out of the ear by cattle and asses,
all muzzled, on small threshing-floors made of clay beaten hard. It
was then winnowed, by being gently shaken out of flat vessels held as
high as possible above the ground.

On the 15th of September I left Le for Kashmir. For five days my route
was the same as that by which I had travelled in July. On the fourth
day I reached Kalatze on the Indus, and on the 19th of September I
encamped at the village of Lama-Yuru, close to which the road from
Zanskar joins that along which I proposed to travel towards Dras. In
the valley of the Indus a great part of the vegetation was already
destroyed by the night frosts; _Chenopodiaceæ_ were now the most
numerous family, and these were rapidly ripening their seeds. In the
narrow ravine of the Wandla river, on the ascent to Lama-Yuru, I found
a few plants indicative of lower and hotter regions than those in
which I had lately been travelling: a little wiry _Lactuca_ with
decurrent leaves, a spathulate-leaved _Statice_, and a small
_Hyoscyamus_, all plants of the neighbourhood of Iskardo, were those
which I noted.

    [Sidenote: PHATU PASS.
     _September, 1848._]

On the 20th of September I crossed the Phatu pass, stated by Moorcroft
to be 14,000 feet above the sea, but which Major Cunningham has
ascertained to be only about 13,500 feet. The discrepancy is probably
owing to some error in Moorcroft's manuscripts, from which the
elevations given in his work were calculated by Professor Wilson. In
the neighbourhood of Lama-Yuru lacustrine clay occurs in great
abundance, and the ascent to the summit of this pass was gentle, up a
gravelly valley, which was full of alluvium, almost to the very
summit. The pass did not nearly attain the elevation requisite for
alpine vegetation, still the flora was a good deal altered; two
large-flowered thistles, _Caragana versicolor_, and several species of
_Umbelliferæ_ were observed, none of which had occurred in the hills
to the north of the Indus; the prickly _Statice_ was also common, but
the _Chenopodiaceæ_ of the Indus valley had entirely disappeared. The
descent along the Kanji river to Karbu, at which I encamped, was long
and gradual, down a wide valley skirted by gently sloping hills,
which, at some distance on the left, rose into high mountains, but on
the right attained only a moderate elevation, the Indus being at no
great distance. Alluvium occurred throughout the descent, latterly
indurated into a coarse conglomerate.

    [Sidenote: NAMIKA PASS.
     _September, 1848._]

From Karbu I marched on the 21st to Molbil, crossing the Namika pass.
The previous night had been very threatening, with violent wind, and
at daybreak all the hills around were covered with snow; it was still
snowing slightly, but none lay in the valley, and before nine o'clock
it cleared, and the remainder of the forenoon was tolerably fine. For
two miles I followed the banks of the Kanji river; afterwards the road
turned to the left to ascend a clayey valley, to the rounded summit of
a ridge separating that river from the Pashkyum on the left. The pass
has been determined by Major Cunningham, who crossed it in October,
1847, to be 12,900 feet above the sea. The descent was long, but not
rapid after the first mile. The upper part was desert, but lower down
villages were frequent and cultivation extensive. At first the rocks
were clay-slate, but these were replaced in the lower part by a hard
limestone; alluvium was everywhere plentiful, forming, near Molbil,
table-topped platforms of indurated conglomerate, horizontally
stratified, and faced towards the stream by scarped cliffs. The
afternoon was again stormy, and a good deal of rain fell during the
night.

    [Sidenote: PASHKYUM.
     _September, 1848._]

Next day I made a long march to Pashkyum, following the course of the
river of that name. The descent was very gradual, and the road varied
much in character, the valley being sometimes open, at other times
narrow and rocky. The villages increased in numbers as the elevation
diminished, and latterly for several miles cultivation was continuous.
Pashkyum is not more than 8600 feet above the sea, and accordingly the
season was much less advanced than it had been three and four thousand
feet higher, the weather being much milder, and the summer heat no
doubt much more considerable than in the neighbourhood of Le. The
crops had long been cut, except the buckwheat, the fields of which
were however quite ripe; the plants were being plucked up by the roots
and laid down separately in the fields to dry, previous to removal to
the threshing-floor.

A remarkable change had taken place in the appearance of the country
during this day's journey. The banks of the river were frequently
shaded with immense willows, and the trees of the cultivated lands
were numerous and of great size. Many new forms of plants were also
seen, though the general character of the flora was unaltered. Shrubby
_Artemisiæ_ were extremely plentiful, and the _Perowskia_, _Ballota_,
_Echinops_, and _Iris_ of the Indus valley were very abundant. The new
plants were all species of Kashmir or Iskardo, such as _Verbascum
Thapsus_, _Lappa_, _Valeriana_, _Swertia_, and _Gentiana
Moorcroftiana_. _Trifolium repens_ and _fragiferum_ grew in the
pastures close to the river, and tropical species of _Setaria_ and
_Amaranthus_ were common weeds in the corn-fields.

    [Sidenote: SINGULAR SANDSTONE FORMATION.
     _September, 1848._]

In the immediate neighbourhood of Pashkyum the rocks consist of
coarse-grained grey or white sandstones, often containing small
water-worn pebbles, and alternating with dark crumbling pyritiferous
shales. These rocks, which dip to the east or south-east, at an angle
of not more than 15°, rise on the north side of the valley to the
summit of a long sloping ridge, which appears to overhang the Indus.
As these sandstones and shales contained, so far as I could observe,
no fossils, their age is a matter of complete uncertainty. They were
quite independent of the modern lacustrine formation, patches of
which, perfectly horizontally stratified, and therefore unconformable
to the other, were seen in several places resting on the sandstone.
These sandstones perhaps reach as far as the Indus, but I was not able
to determine how far they extended to the southward, in which
direction high and rugged mountains, now covered with snow, skirted
the valley at a distance of a few miles.

    [Sidenote: KARGIL.
     _September, 1848._]

On the 23rd of September, I followed the Pashkyum river to its
junction with that of Dras. Crossing, at starting, to the left bank of
the river, the road lay for a mile through cultivated lands; it then
ascended to a platform of alluvium, which blocked up the valley, while
the river disappeared in a narrow ravine far to the right. Five miles
from Pashkyum, I descended very abruptly from this elevated plain, to
the village of Kargil, where the Pashkyum river is joined by a large
stream from Suru, called by Moorcroft the Kartse; which I crossed by a
good wooden bridge, close to a small fort, occupied by a Thannadar
with a small party of soldiers. The cultivated lands of Kargil, which
is elevated about 8300 feet, are extensive and well wooded; but
immediately below, the valley becomes narrow and rocky, and continues
so for more than a mile, till the stream joins the Dras river. Nearly
due south of Kargil the stratified rocks of the mountains are replaced
by igneous rocks, and the point of contact of the two is well marked
on the precipitous face of a lofty peak. At first the igneous rock was
dark and resembling greenstone, but it soon changed to granite, which,
as I had observed in April, occurs everywhere in the valley of Dras,
below Karbu.

I encamped on the right bank of the Dras river, about a mile above the
village of Hardas. Henceforward my route was the same as I had
travelled in April. On the 24th I travelled to Tashgong, and on the
25th I arrived at Dras. In most parts of the valley I found a great
deal of alluvium, but I saw none of the fine clay which is
characteristic of the purely lacustrine strata above the village of
Bilergu, where I had observed it in April. Gravelly conglomerate was
everywhere the prevailing form,--sometimes indurated, but generally
soft and shingly. Most of these deposits were unstratified, but
distinct stratification was far from uncommon. The alluvium often
capped low hills in the open valley many hundred feet above the bed of
the river, and it was observed at frequent intervals in every part of
the valley, from the junction of the Pashkyum river to Dras itself.

    [Sidenote: ALLUVIUM OF DRAS.
     _September, 1848._]

The great extent and remarkable forms of alluvium which I had seen in
the district through which I had travelled, between Kalatze and Dras,
induced me to note with care the position and composition of the
alluvial beds of the Dras valley. The known low elevation of the Zoji
pass, between Dras and Kashmir, which is only 11,300 feet above the
sea, made the great extent and continuity of these deposits very
remarkable, and with difficulty explicable, unless on the supposition
of the existence of a series of lakes separated from one another by
extensive accumulations of alluvium, now to a great extent removed by
denudation. The lacustrine clays of lower Dras, about Ulding, appear
continuous with those of the Indus valley about Tarkata, but the clays
of Pashkyum, which are separated from them by a very thick mass of
alluvium, which occupies that part of the Dras and Pashkyum rivers
immediately above the junction of the two, may have been deposited in
an isolated lake. Further east again, at Lamayuru, there are beds of
pure clay as high as the summit of the Zoji pass, so that the alluvial
beds of the upper part of the Phatu ridge must have separated the lake
in which these were deposited from the more western waters, which (it
may be conjectured) at the same time covered the whole of the valley
of Molbil and Pashkyum.

The vegetation of Dras was still very Tibetan, but transitional forms
were becoming frequent. The _Chenopodiaceæ_ (except _Eurotia_) had all
disappeared, but _Artemisiæ_ and _Umbelliferæ_ were very abundant. The
new forms were all Kashmirian, and indicated a considerable increase
of humidity: a small white-flowered balsam was observed not far from