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FROM DARJEELING THROUGH SIKKIM

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

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

To The Jongpens and Headmen of Pharijong, Ting-ke, Khamba and Kharta.

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

Dispatched during the Iron-Bird Year.

Seal of the Prime Minister.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Footnote:

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