A SPRING TRIP FROM SRINAGAR TO SIMLA

A. P. F. HAMILTON

FOR some years my wife and I had looked forward to making an excursion to Ladakh, partly for the shooting and partly to see country new to us. We had hoped to go there by some route other than the well-known Treaty Road from Srinagar to Leh, but circumstances obliged us to set out at a time when the only pass open into Ladakh over the Great Himalayan Range was the Zoji La. We left Srinagar on the 31st March with the weather looking very unsettled and our chances of getting over the Zoji La without a hold-up did not seem very rosy. There had been an unusually heavy fall of snow during the winter, and we met snow on the roads 2 miles beyond Gund, and did not leave it until we reached Lamayuru, a distance of 130 miles. We arrived at Baltal, at the foot of the Zoji La, with light snow falling, and with the unpleasant prospect of having to stay for a few days in the rest-house, which was completely buried under snow. It was still snowing at 3 a.m. the next morning when we were called, and we were exceedingly surprised when we were told that the coolies were willing to tackle the pass. There was, however, a dead calm, and this accounted for their willingness to carry on in spite of the fact that it was snowing; for what they dread are the strong winds which blow masses of snow from the cliffs above into the gorge through which the winter route passes. Mechoi was reached that afternoon. The next day there was a raging blizzard, but the coolies preferred to push on through it to Matayan as they could not get sufficient wood. The storm lasted all that day and most of the next, and we considered that we were lucky to find ourselves on the right side of the pass. Matayan village was completely submerged under snow, and it was strange to hear all the usual farmyard sounds coming up from beneath the snow. How the animals and fowls must welcome the sight of warm dry ground after five or six months of cold storage!

At Lamayuru, where at last we trod the good brown earth again, work in the fields was in full swing. Collectivization is not, apparently, confined to Bolshevik Russia; it is well understood by Buddhist lamas, and we saw it operating here, where every man, woman, child, and beast was organized for work on the fields under the close supervision of the lamas. The rest of our journey to Leh was without incident except for the halt at Basgo, where we found the whole village on its back as a result of excessive conviviality. Not a man was found who could stand on his two legs, but the chow- kidar of the poplar grove in which we camped was sufficiently sober by 5 a.m. to ask for bakshish. Incidentally, we thought that Basgo village, with its monastery standing above, was one of the most picturesque places we saw in Ladakh. Before reaching Leh we forded the Indus at Spitok and spent four days after shapu up the Rumbak nullah. A full day's march brings one to the highest village up the nullah, which is the best place to camp for shooting. We reached Leh on the 21st April, but our programme, which had to be strictly adhered to, allowed us only one day's halt there. It might be worth while mentioning that in order to reduce the number of our loads between Srinagar and Leh, an important consideration as we had to pay at winter rates, we had arranged for a large supply of flour to be ground and ready for us on arrival. Bishop Peter of the Moravian Mission had very kindly undertaken this, and he also supplied us with potatoes which, as was also the flour, were cheap considering the remoteness of the country. We also purchased and took with us from Leh enough eggs to last six weeks; none of them were bad, and they were cheap at four annas a dozen.

We had, by now, decided to attempt to return to India by another route and the possibility of crossing the Great Himalaya into Lahul by the Baralacha La was discussed with people who know the route. It appeared that our chances of getting over as early as the middle of June were not good, and we were regaled with dismal stories of failure and of the terrible hardships incurred by those who had dared to try conclusions with the range at too early a date. However, we were determined to try our luck, and since it had been pointed out to us that one of the difficulties we should encounter would be the unwillingness of the Ladakhi shepherds to provide transport and accompany us across the passes of the Zaskar and Great Himalayan Ranges, we requested the tahsildar to provide us with a good man to help in making transport arrangements; this he kindly consented to do, and it was arranged that he should meet us after we had finished shooting in the Hanle district.

Two days' march up the bank of the Indus brought us to the Ugu nullah, where we camped in one of the convenient little poplar groves which the Kashmir Durbar has, with much foresight, had planted at almost every camping-ground where the trees can grow. These groves must provide very welcome shade in the summer; they attract many birds and even now, when they were leafless, scarcely a grove was without one or more Siberian chiff-chaffs, whose pleasant note is very similar to that of the English chiff-chaff.¹ Another very

There were plenty of ibex in the nullah, and we were not long in getting what we wanted. One rather unusual thing we saw was a female bharal living quite happily with a herd of 32 male ibex. She was seen with them on two successive days. She was earning her keep well by maintaining a very careful look-out and she was very nearly successful in bringing disaster to the stalk. Since there was a fairly large herd of bharal in full view on the opposite side of the nullah it is the more surprising that she should have chosen to run with the goats.

Archery is one of the favourite sports of the Ladakhis, and we were fortunate enough to see a shooting-match from our camp here. The occasion called for the drinking of vast quantities of change a local brew prepared from barley. The fun went on from morning to night, and it was observed that the accuracy of the shooting, which at no time reached a high standard, varied inversely with the amount of drink taken. The show ended with a massed attack on our camp with the object of collecting entertainment tax. We left Ugu on the 30tli April, and reached Nima ford in five marches, Likche, Gaik, Kidmang, Mahiya, Nima. Throughout the greater part of its course in Ladakh the Indus valley is the dividing line between the Ladakh and Zaskar ranges, the former being composed of a highly weathered granite, the latter of sedimentary rocks, mostly shales and slates, but for a distance of about 30 miles above Likche some granite appears to cross the Indus, and the river which has been flowing in a wide and open valley is now enclosed in a series of great gorges in which the road closely follows the course of the river. For this reason this route is impracticable when the river rises in the summer, probably from the middle of May to September. East of Nima the Ladakh rartge, and with it the granite, crosses to the south side of the Indus, and thence follows the course of the Hanle river, along its right bank. Whether this granite extends into Chumurti could not be ascertained, but it is known that rocks of a similar nature occur in Tibet to the north of British Garhwal, and it seems probable that they are a continuation of the Ladakh granite; if this is the case the range must also cross the Sutlej, probably somewhere in the Tibetan province of Humdes.¹

(Phylloscopus collybitasindianus), which winters in Sind and breeds throughout Ladakh and the Pamirs. The Siberian chiff-chaff winters in India and breeds in Siberia. See also Hugh Whistler in Himalaya Journal, vol. i, p. 47, 'Some Aspects of Bird-life in Kashmir'.—Ed.

 

One night's camping on the exposed plains of Nima was quite enough at this time of the year, and the next day saw us over the easy Sangpoche La and camping at Mankhang on the Hanle river. The valley is a pleasant one; the river takes a winding course and is clearly defined by the strips of dwarf willow and Tibetan furze which line both banks. There is a good deal of very coarse grass on the plains, and large numbers of kyang, yak, and ponies were feeding on it. The mountains to the west, which consist mainly of shales, exhibit the most striking colours and are in strong contrast, both in colour and shape, to the monotonous granite range opposite. Bird life is abundant in this valley, and the naturalist would find it a good hunting- ground. Three black-necked cranes were seen and one skin obtained.

We halted one day at Hanle to skin birds and make arrangements for transport and milk during the time we should be in the Hanle district. The lambardar proved to be very helpful, and we had no trouble during the 24 days we were in his area. We left Hanle on (he 8th May. We had taken two 'amnion blocks', II and IV, and our shikari, who knew the country well, assured us we should have 110 difficulty in finding good Ovis ammon, but we were disappointed. For 17 days we searched all the likely ammon ground in both blocks and found only one shootable head, 40 ½ “, which was duly bagged. This beast was at the extreme southern end of No. II block and within a few hundred yards of the Tibetan border. All the good ammon country in this block was occupied by Tibetan shepherds; n doubt some arrangement exists whereby they are allowed to graze in Kashmir territory, but when we saw two of their dogs in full cry after a herd of small ammon we considered that a casus belli was fully established. Similarly, the Hanle block was swarming with flocks of sheep, and we attributed the absence of big ammon to this cause; but Col. Stockley, whom we met later in Kulu, said that the ammon of these two blocks migrate into Tibet during the winter and return during the summer. Nevertheless, big heads have been shot here in May, and the safest deduction is that although good ammon may be found in blocks II and IV in the first half of the shooting season, better sport may be expected in the second.

Tibetan gazelle and bharal were plentiful, and one lynx was seen in block II. Small game abounds, hares, Tibetan partridges and Tibetan snow-cock (Tetraogallus tibetanus tibetanus). This snow-cock common bird which brings back memories of England is the Kashmir magpie, which, although not found in Kashmir proper, is common in Ladakh. This bird is similar in all respects to its western relative and is to be found in the vicinity of all villages up to 13,000 ft.

There were plenty of ibex in the nullah, and we were not long in getting what we wanted. One rather unusual thing we saw was a female bharal living quite happily with a herd of 32 male ibex. She was seen with them on two successive days. She was earning her keep well by maintaining a very careful look-out and she was very nearly successful in bringing disaster to the stalk. Since there was a fairly large herd of bharal in full view on the opposite side of the nullah it is the more surprising that she should have chosen to run with the goats.

Archery is one of the favourite sports of the Ladakhis, and we were fortunate enough to see a shooting-match from our camp here. The occasion called for the drinking of vast quantities of chang, a local brew prepared from barley. The fun went on from morning to night, and it was observed that the accuracy of the shooting, which at no time reached a high standard, varied inversely with the amount of drink taken. The show ended with a massed attack on our camp with the object of collecting entertainment tax. We left Ugu on the 30th April, and reached Nima ford in five marches, Likche, Gaik, Kidmang, Mahiya, Nima. Throughout the greater part of its course in Ladakh the Indus valley is the dividing line between the Ladakh and Zaskar ranges, the former being composed of a highly weathered granite, the latter of sedimentary rocks, mostly shales and slates, but for a distance of about 30 miles above Likche some granite appears to cross the Indus, and the river which has been flowing in a wide and open valley is now enclosed in a series of great gorges in which the road closely follows the course of the river. For this reason this route is impracticable when the river rises in the summer, probably from the middle of May to September. East of Nima the Ladakh range, and with it the granite, crosses to the south side of the Indus, and thence follows the course of the Hanle river, along its right bank. Whether this granite extends into Ghumurti could not be ascertained, but it is known that rocks of a similar nature occur in Tibet to the north of British Garhwal, and it seems probable that they are a continuation of the Ladakh granite; if this is the case the range must also cross the Sutlej, probably somewhere in the Tibetan province of Hundes.¹

(Phylloscopus collybitasindianus), which winters in Sind and breeds throughout Ladakh and the Pamirs. The Siberian chiff-chaff winters in India and breeds in Siberia. See also Hugh Whistler in Himalaya Journal, vol. i, p. 47, 'Some Aspects of Bird-life in Kashmir*.—Ed.

 

One night's camping on the exposed plains of Nima was quite enough at this time of the year, and the next day saw us over the easy Sangpoche La and camping at Mankhang on the Hanle river. The valley is a pleasant one; the river takes a winding course and is clearly defined by the strips of dwarf willow and Tibetan furze which line both banks. There is a good deal of very coarse grass on the plains, and large numbers of kyang, yak, and ponies were feeding on it. The mountains to the west, which consist mainly of shales, exhibit the most striking colours and are in strong contrast, both in colour and shape, to the monotonous granite range opposite. Bird life is abundant in this valley, and the naturalist would find it a good hunting- ground. Three black-necked cranes were seen and one skin obtained.

We halted one day at Hanle to skin birds and make arrangements for transport and milk during the time we should be in the Hanle district. The lambardar proved to be very helpful, and we had no trouble during the 24 days we were in his area. We left Hanle on the 8th May. We had taken two 'ammon blocks', II and IV, and our shikari, who knew the country well, assured us we should have no difficulty in finding good Ovis ammon, but we were disappointed. For 17 days we searched all the likely ammon ground in both blocks and found only one shoo table head, 40^", which was duly bagged. This beast was at the extreme southern end of No. II block and within a few hundred yards of the Tibetan border. All the good ammon country in this block was occupied by Tibetan shepherds; no doubt some arrangement exists whereby they are allowed to graze in Kashmir territory, but when we saw two of their dogs in full cry after a herd of small ammon we considered that a casus belli was fully established. Similarly, the Hanle block was swarming with flocks of sheep, and we attributed the absence of big ammon to this cause; but Col. Stockley, whom we met later in Kulu, said that the ammon of these two blocks migrate into Tibet during the winter and return during the summer. Nevertheless, big heads have been shot here in May, and the safest deduction is that although good ammon may be found in blocks II and IV in the first half of the shooting season, better sport may be expected in the second.

Tibetan gazelle and bharal were plentiful, and one lynx was seen in block II. Small game abounds, hares, Tibetan partridges and Tibetan snow-cock (Tetraogallus tibetanus tibetanus). This snow-cock is liable to be confused with the Himalayan snow-cock (Tetraogallus himalayensis himalayensis), the well-known ram-chukor. The note and habits of the two birds are very similar, but the Tibetan snow-cock is smaller, the general colouring of the plumage is browner, and the breast marking is not unlike that of the common chukor. It is also far more active on the ground than the lumbering ram-chukor. Both species are found in Ladakh, but the exact westerly limit of tihetanus does not appear to have been recorded; we observed a few birds on the cliffs to the west of the Tso Morari, but met with neither species until we reached the southern limit of the Zaskar range, which was occupied by himalayensis. We found himalayensis, north of the Indus, as far east as the Ugu nullah, and south of the Indus, in the Zaskar river valley. It would be interesting to know if the two species overlap in the uplands of Rupshu. With regard to the distribution of the Tibetan partridge, we observed no birds west of the high range that divides the Hanle district from Rupshu, but B. B. Osmaston (The Ibis, July 1925) reports that he flushed a pair on the Polokonka La, north of the Tso Morari. While on the subject of birds, it is worth noting that our observations with regard to the distribution of the two Choughs agree with those of Osmaston. The Red-billed Chough was common throughout Ladakh, while we saw the Yellow-billed, or Alpine, Chough on two occasions only. On the other hand, after crossing the Great Himalayan Range into Lahul, we only saw yellow-billed choughs. In vol. i of the Himalayan Journal, Whistler ('Some Aspects of Bird-life in Kashmir') states that he found the two species more or less evenly distributed in Ladakh.

On two occasions, in the Ugu nullah and in the Koyul valley, east of Hanle, we saw an owlet which may have been Athene noctua bac- triana. Another fact worth recording was our seeing three Black Storks by the side of the Indus near Chumathang; they were obviously on their northerly migration after wintering in India. The Hanle river is well stocked with fish, running up to two pounds in weight. We killed two species, both apparently barbel; one was identical with the barbel commonly found in Himalayan streams, the other was heavily speckled. Our tiffin coolie apparently knew a thing or two about poaching, for, with a fine disregard for the conventions of angling, he soon landed a dozen fish by driving them into the shallows, and pelting them with stones!

We left Hanle village on the 1st June; there was no time to be lost, as I was due back at Dehra Dun on the 29th and I wanted two days in Simla before going on. Our first objective was Kiangdom at the southern end of the Tso Morari, where we were to dismiss our Hanle transport and take on Rupshu yaks. The marches made were Gon- grale, Uti, Kiangdom (Survey of India map 52 L). The march from Gongrale to Uti is a bad one; the distance is not less than 22 miles, there is a long, though not difficult, pull up to the Lenak La, which is about 18,000 feet, and there is no water on the way. We ourselves took an obvious short cut across country shortly after leaving the top of the pass, but the yaks had to go round. From Uti there is a route direct to the northern end of the Tso Morari, but it is not so good as that which follows the western shore, and nothing would have been gained by following it. We found the Tso Morari still covered with ice except for a small part at the northern end. Hundreds of birds were congregated at the southern end, where there was an outlet of unfrozen water. Here we saw two more Black-necked Cranes, a large colony of Brown-headed Gulls, Central Asian Lesser Sand Plover, a covey of nine Tibetan Sand-grouse, and a number of Bar-headed Geese, which were very wild. Osmaston records having seen the Sand-grouse in the same place, but they must be very local in Ladakh as this is the only place he saw them. We reached Karzok, the only village in Rupshu, on the 4th June. Here we met Sunnam Wanchup, the Ladakhi whom the tahsildar had promised to send us. We closely questioned him as to the chances of our being able to cross the ranges on the route from Ladakh to Kulu. We pointed out to him that it was still open to us to return by Leh and Srinagar if he felt doubtful about the practicability of the Kulu route, and that if we were to attempt that route and fail to return by Leh I would overstay my leave by at least 10 days. He assured us he would get us through, though hinted that there might be difficulties in arranging transport, so we placed ourselves in his hands. The next day we set out northwards along the Spiti-Leh road. The Route-Book led us to expect water at the camping-site on the Polokonka La (map 52 K), but there was none for miles on either side, and it would appear that one cannot always rely on finding water there. Next day we reached Thugje, in the Tso Kar plain. There is generally a large shepherds' encampment here, and it was Sunnam Wanchup's intention to recruit transport from here to go with us into Lahul. Yaks and men there were in plenty, but none of them wanted to leave their comfortable tents to endure the discomforts of the high passes for a couple of mad English people, and the lambardar at first flatly refused to supply any transport. But after a time Sunnam Wanchup's threats and promises, coupled with the standing of many flagons of change produced the necessary results and a sufficient number of men and animals promised to accompany us.

The next day we set out for Zara (map 52 G), turning south from the Spiti-Leh road and a few miles short of Debring. Our Kashmiri servants and shikari went back to Leh from here; they had no desire to see new country, and their beloved rice had all been consumed. We decided it was better to, do without unwilling servants who would only add to the transport difficulties; so we sent them off and for the rest of the journey my wife did the cooking, while I performed the less arduous camp duties, such as striking and pitching our only tent, a light-weight, single-fly one of the Mount Everest pattern.

The Thugje yak-men, always doubtful starters, bolted in the night, but Sunnam Wanchup managed to obtain others from the Zara shepherds, who were a more obliging lot. These men would, I think, have accompanied us into Lahul had the fates been propitious. We camped that night at Jabak, a pleasant site with a fresh spring, about four miles beyond the usual stage, Sangtha. From here onwards the topography of the country undergoes a marked change; behind lie open valleys and rounded summits, in front the outer fringe of the Zaskar range rises up in a great wall of cliffs which at first sight appears impenetrable. Beyond Lun the Zara river disappears into a gorge, the sides of which are several thousand feet high. This looked bad country for yaks, but we trusted to our guide, who had several times crossed the Marang La, though not so early in the year. Our next camp was at a place called Trojak, some four miles below the summit of the pass. The Survey of India maps, 52 and 52 G, are inaccurate here: Lun is actually on the left bank of the Zara river, a little way below the junction of the Toze Lungpa and not above. The nullah shown on the map as leading south-west from Lun does not exist, and the route, after crossing the mouth of the Toze Lungpa, follows the Zara river for about half a mile and then gradually ascends the cliffs forming the left bank of the Zara, until it meets another nullah which, as shown on the map, leads south from the Zara river from about four miles below Lun. This nullah does not descend from the first line of cliffs, as would appear from the map, but passes through them in a narrow gorge and continues up to the Marang La. Our camp at Trojak was at the point where the route enters this nullah. Sunnam Wanchup was not in favour of an early start next day as he said the final ascent of the pass was very steep, and the yaks would slip on the hard snow. At first our route passed through a narrow gorge shut in by high limestone cliffs; it then opened out somewhat and we found ourselves confronted with the final ascent to the pass, a very steep slope, about 1,500 feet high; it was obvious that there was going to be trouble, for the snow was already soft (9.30 a.m.) Actually the yaks never reached this slope, for they had begun to flounder in the heavy snow with which the bottom of the gorge was filled, and we had great difficulty in getting them out of the snow, even when the loads had been taken off. There was not the slightest hope of getting them over the pass, and it is doubtful if they could have got over had the snow been hard, owing to the steepness of the slope; moreover, they were weak from lack of grazing. Sunnam Wanchup was obliged to admit that the situation was far from pleasant, but there was no alternative but to go on. We abandoned the yaks, and carrying whatever was necessary for one night's camp, struggled through the snow to the top of the pass and down the other side to the first possible camping-ground below the snow-line. The next day the yak-men recrossed the pass to bring over the rest of the baggage, while Sunnam Wanchup went down into the Tsarap valley to try to raise fresh men and animals. The height of the Marang La is not given on the map, nor in the Route-Book, but the peak immediately to the west of it is 18,513 feet and the pass is not more than 800 feet below it, which makes it about 17,700 feet.

In the Geographical Journal, vol. lxx, 1927, p. 135, Col. R. Meinertz- hagen states that yaks 'are at their best in deep snow, and even though they sink up to their bellies, they will gore their way through, seeming to enjoy it thoroughly'.

This may be true in the case of deep, dry snow, but our experience suggests that it does not apply in the case of heavy snow, where the yaks are obliged to withdraw each foot from the hole in which it has sunk.¹

The question may be asked, why did I not go by the Lachalung La, which is only 16,600 feet high; the answer is that we had no indication that the Marang La was higher or more difficult than this pass, and we were obliged to fall in with Sunnam Wanchup's plans. Actually both passes are quite easy when there is no snow, but the Lachalung La route is avoided by travellers with pack animals unless they carry their own fodder, as there is no grazing on the More Plain.

Sunnam Wanchup was successful, and he returned in two days with men and yaks which he had collected in the Shun district of the Tsarap valley. These Zaskaris were very different in appearance from the Ladakhis, having long, narrow faces and drooping noses.

We pushed on fast and reached Kenlung at the foot of the Bara- lacha La in two days. We were going to make no mistake about crossing this pass, which, although only 16,000 feet, carried far more snow than the Marang La. Sunnam Wanchup had arranged three or four extra men in case of trouble with the yaks. The yaks were started off at 1 a.m. and we followed three hours later, the surplus yak men carrying our tent, bedding and kitchen box. All went well and we arrived at the top of the pass before 8 o'clock, to find that the yaks were out of sight down the right side of the Great Himalaya. We reached the P.W.D. bungalow at Patseo that evening. On map 52 H it is written that the pass is open from June to October; we had crossed on the 16th June, and there is no doubt that, given line weather and good coolies, the pass can be crossed at the beginning of June, but pony caravans do not usually begin to cross until the beginning of July. We reached Kyelang, the capital of Lahul, the next day, dropping our Zaskar yaks at Jispa; they had done us well, having covered 66 miles in three and a half days. We said good-bye to Sunnam Wanchup here: it is not too much to say that but for him we should never have got over the two passes. He knows the Himalaya from Kashgar to Kulu, and is a man worth knowing. Mr. and Mrs. Asboe, of the Moravian Mission, were very hospitable, and we were tempted to linger a day in Kyelang, but we had to push on, and in three days were over the Rohtang pass and at Manali in the Kulu valley. We spent the day here, rejoicing in the delightful surroundings, while we made preparations for a forced march to Simla, and boiled up the 'heads' of our trophies, which were beginning to gel a bit 'high'.

 

We left Manali on the 22nd June, motoring as far as Oot Behali on the Mandi road. From there we followed the Kulu-Simla road, reaching Narkanda on the 25th, where we found two rickshaws and a large plum-cake awaiting us.

We reached Simla the next day, having covered the 430 miles from Hanle in 26 days, which included two halts on the Marang La and one at Manali. It had been a good trip, though somewhat more strenuous than we had anticipated

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