EXPEDITIONS

1. THE LOST PASS (CHINKANG LA)
2. RONGDU AND THE NUBRA VALLEY

 

 

An interesting note by Lieut. (now Major) James Waller, D.S.O., written three years prior to the attempt on Mashebrum, has come to light and is reproduced here.—Ed.

In the Shyok valley there is an elusive legend. An ancient pass is said to lead over to the long disused Muztagh pass, which was last crossed by Sir Francis Younghusband in his great journey across Central Asia in 1899. He also rediscovered the pass, which was by that time merely an old man's tale, as was mine.

I said that the legend of the pass was elusive—so elusive was it that few save the oldest inhabitants of the valley had ever heard of it ; and most of them seemed to disbelieve it. But one old man, living at Doghani, 10 miles down the Shyok from Khapalu, had repeatedly told Mr. Read, the missionary dwelling at Khapalu, that he could show him the pass and could make him famous by its rediscovery.

The legend is as difficult to unravel as it is hard to find. It appears that this pass was greatly used in the days of the Hunza raiders as a direct route from Yarkand via the Muztagh pass, the Baltoro glacier (scene of the International Expedition's mountaineering and film activities in 1934), and then southwards over this pass. The men would appear in the Thalle Nulla, leading 20 miles in a northwesterly direction from Doghani. Its head appears to be guarded by a complete ring of almost unclimbable mountains 19,000 feet high. The only known pass leads over the Thalle La to Shigar near Skardu. It was certain that it was not this pass that was used.

It is not plain whether the pass was used by the Hunza raiders themselves, in lightning raids upon the fertile Khapalu valley, or whether it was used by merchants trying to escape from them. The former seems probable, for as late as 1899 Sir Francis Younghusband, crossing the Muztagh, was forced to leave his tent at night to sleep on the bare ice of the glacier for fear of the Hunza robbers. When the advancing ice made the passage of the Muztagh too difficult, this smaller pass to Khapalu must have fallen into disuse. Now there appears to be only one man alive who believes he knows where it is; he is living in India, out of touch with his relations in Doghani.

I have long believed that a pass should lead over the lower southern Baltoro Wall: here at last I got confirmation of that belief. I determined that, if there was such a pass, I would find it.

After floating down the Shyok for the 10 miles to Doghani on a skin raft, I turned up the Thalle Nulla. It took me a long day's march in it to reach the head nullas; here at the last village of Bukma, only inhabited by shepherds in summer, I pitched my Base Camp, from which to explore the two valleys which fork at this point. I spent a day in each valley. At the end of that time I had found only two cols which appeared to give any hope. Both were at the head of the valley running up to the north-west, the Chinkang nulla. I took camp up to the foot of the glacier that fills the head of the valley. Just above me was a steep, avalanche marked, snow depression narrowing at one point almost to a couloir. Its top, nice and smoothly rounded, was nearly 2,000 feet above. There was obviously no difficulty to the climb, but after a fall of new snow it would be dangerous from avalanches.

At dawn next morning with one local coolie and my dog, 1 climbed to the top, to look down dead easy snow slopes the other side, leading to an increvassed glacier and a low winding valley. A glance at the map showed that this valley must also be called the Chinkang; a rather startling discovery which confirmed me in my decision that this really was the pass I was looking for, and appears to me to be clear proof.

I did not cross the pass, owing to shortage of money, so that still remains to be done. Some shikari or mountaineer, travelling with a dozen or so lightly loaded coolies will, I hope, confirm my observations, before I have time to return. I have named the pass the Chinkang La.

After the pass I had to get to Skardu to collect more money. Dropping down to Shigar I had an exciting journey down to Skardu on a skin raft. Several times I was soaked to the skin, when 8-foot waves reared their heads. It was marvellous to see the boatmen control their 'zak', bobbing and thrown about in the rapids like a cork in a mill-race. They were armed only with round poles as oars. My wind- proof trousers from K.36 did not prove a success—water came in over the top and collected in a pool inside the seat!

A three-day rest in Skardu ended, I made for Srinagar as fast as I could. It took me six days to cross the Deosai plains, the Burzil pass, and the Tragbal pass, and drop down to Bandipur, a normal journey of ten days. And then, Srinagar and the Flesh-pots.

James Waller

 

 

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In July and August 1947 we had endeavoured to reach and then ascend the Siachen glacier in upper Nubra, and had even cherished the ambitious design of crossing the Turkistan La and returning to Kashmir by some other way than the rather dull and orthodox route. Our efforts had failed. We went up the left of the Nubra river, but on arriving just short of the Siachen glacier found that that mass of ice had moved from the left of the valley to the right and it was impossible to gain a footing on it. Our progress up the left of the river was barred by a great sheet of boiler-plate rock. Not to be defeated we went back to 2 miles north of Panamik, crossed the Nubra river by a new, rickety, gimcrack bridge and, hoping against hope, toiled up the right of the river, only to be foiled this time by a cliff face jutting into the stream and barring any advance.

There is, however, one way of reaching this glacier at any time of the year which means taking with one enough skins to form a ‘zaq' or raft. It was this precaution which we took in 1945 in moving up the Muztagh or Shaksgam valley and is the one method of dealing with the unfordable and unbridged streams. We tried this time in the Nubra to ford the river at places where the map humorously marked non-existent fords. The attempt was a failure as not only was the current strong and the water bitterly cold, but the bed of the river was constantly changing and it was impossible to be sure of a foothold. The Ladakhi, moreover, is no bold adventurer and is unwilling to run the slightest risk. My Hunza men did good work in searching for a passage but it was of no use, and we had to abandon the enterprise and leave the Nubra, defeated on every hand.

Our intention now was to regain the Indus valley in Ladakh by some new route. We were tired of the Khardung and the Diger passes. Our idea was to ascend the side valley on the right of the Shyok which joined that river at Rongdu, and after crossing the watershed reach the Shyok higher up, and probably regain the Indus over the Chang La. Accordingly we went up the right of the Shyok as far as Rongdu. This hamlet is tucked away at the mouth of a narrow gorge, and is very sheltered. So warm was it that apricots grew abundantly there as they did nowhere else in the country: we arrived there just as the fruit was ripe and the villagers were much alarmed lest we should eat the whole crop, greedy as we were. Rongdu was 10,970 feet above sea-level. Continuing up the valley we rose high up a barren hill-side, 800 or 1,000 feet above the village, with an extensive, but not very attractive, view over the dreary brown Ladakhi landscape. After sundry ups and downs we reached grass, tamarisks, willows, and good water, and arrived at Thipthi where there were huts and barley fields and an enormous rock in the middle of the cultivation where a hermit lived in an eyrie above his devotees. On the hill-side above a Lama guarded the Patha Shrine. We pushed on, crossed a ramshackle bridge, and reached a wide cultivated plain with huts, the summer headquarters of the villagers. This seemed to be the Fatha marked on the map, although, as there is no F in the language, the map must be in error, and the name Patha Lungpa. Animals were grazing and the people came out to welcome us. Our Ladhakis were anxious to stop here but the day was still young and we went farther up the valley and camped rather bleakly in the lee of a steep ridge of a lateral nala, at a place called Gulnis Spang.

After a wild night of wind and rain we started up the valley, now rougher and broken, so that progress was slowed up. Constant stone-filled gullies had to be crossed and one stream in particular flowing from Peak 22660 was full of rock and rubble and proved very troublesome.

On 8th August 1947 we camped by the stream that flowed from the Kunzang group. The Ladakhis said they and the yaks were tired yet the height was only a trifle over 15,000 feet. Hot springs were numerous, steaming and smelling abominably, till the whole valley seemed full of the fumes of sulphur. In some cases the water was too hot to touch, but where it was cooler I found aquatic weeds growing luxuriantly. I saw no solfataras, whence issues the volcanic gas without the water. We reconnoitred the area but the weather was poor, so we moved next day to the spit of land above the junction of the streams from the Teburchan and Sagtogpa glacier, and continued our examinations there. My headman, Daulat Shah of Hunza, was an expert in these matters and as indefatigable as he was reliable. He went up the centre of the Sagtogpa glacier whilst I went to the left of it. We disregarded the Teburchan as it led to the north and it would lead into the upper Nubra which we had only recently left. As a result of our reconnoitring we decided that there was unquestionably a way across the watershed and down on to the upper Shyok river. There were, in fact, two definite routes over this watershed: one came out at the head of the Shukpa Kunchang Lungpa and to the camping-ground of Mandaltang, and the second at the head of the Ryong Kharu Lungpa and Mundro.

Our deductions could not be realized, for the Ladakhis and still less their animals could not make the effort. The obstacle to all exploration in Ladakh is the problem of transport—the Ladakhi is a good cheerful fellow, but he is timid and spineless and will not go beyond the recognized routes. His pack animals are very poor and he himself is a bad horsemaster and cannot understand the need for care. To accomplish the fascinating exploration that can be found in Ladakh, transport must be brought in from outside, otherwise there can be no hope of success. The best transport is Turki: the best coolies come from the Gilgit area. The cost would be great and the feeding of both men and beasts would need considerable previous arrangement, but no success can be expected if reliance is placed on local Ladakhi transport—I myself have lost two caravans in the Aksai Chin. The animals just die; on the second occasion collapse was so swift that we were lucky to regain settled country.

After seeing the head of the Patha Lungpa and realizing the impossibility of crossing the watershed, our only alternative was to return to the village. On the way down I visited the small shrine we passed before; it was under the tutelage of a fierce 'gonbo' or demon, but the lama in charge was most courteous and gave me every protection from the fiend! This cell, with its surrounding fields of waving barley, its rose bushes, and streams of clear water, belonged to the great monastery of Hemis. The place was clean, the frescoes well executed and most elaborate.

If this watershed is ever crossed, one caution is needed—the Shyok river may be difficult to descend; it would be advisable to carry a raft which should be sent up from Shyok village. For the actual crossing, from the upper part of the Patha Lungpa on to the Shyok river, coolies would be needed. Incidentally, there is no use taking a 'zaq' if an expert to work it is not also engaged.

R. C. SCHOMBERG

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