REVIEWS

1. EVEREST 1933.
2. DEUTSCHE AM NANGA PARBAT: Der Angriff, 1934.
3. KARAKORUM: Wissenschaftliche Ergebnisse der nieder- landischen Expeditionen in den Jahren 1922, 1925 und 1929-30.
4. HIMALAYAN WANDERER.
5. A PLANT HUNTER IN TIBET.
6. TIBETAN TREK.
7. AN EASTERN ODYSSEY: The Third Expedition of Haardt and Audouin-Dubreuil.
8. PERMANENT WAY THROUGH THE KYBER.
9. TURKESTAN SOLO.
10. POPULAR HANDBOOK OF INDIAN BIRDS.
11. TOURS IN SIKHIM.

 

 

EVEREST 1933. By Hugh Ruttledge. London: Hodder & Stoughton, 1934. 10 ½ X7 inches; xvi+390 pages; illustrations and maps. 25 s.

The first reaction to this book is the thrill of a great tale greatly told. There are passages as fine as anything in Alpine literature. But there is no need to quote extracts to those who have already enjoyed the whole. Readers of the Himalayan Journal will be more concerned to examine critically the causes of past failure and the prospects of future success.

There has never been an attempt on a mountain more carefully prepared, more methodically directed. The climbers were capable and resolute. The porters were inspired to great performance. Yet the final assault, starting from a camp 600 feet higher and about 400 yards horizontally nearer to the summit, got no farther than Norton's farthest in 1924.

The weather was awful. There are not enough data to determine what is normal on Everest in May and June. It seems that western disturbances in May must be expected. But it had hitherto been hoped that an interval of calm would precede the coming of the monsoon. And the monsoon itself is not ordinarily active in the Eastern Himalaya before the 10th June. In 1933 western disturbances were almost continuous in May; there was no marked interval of calm; and in the last week of May the monsoon was already making itself felt. The arrival of monsoon conditions on Everest is decisive. The dry winds of western disturbances remove snow almost as quickly as it falls. It is the moisture of the advancing monsoon currents that cloaks the summit with snow and makes the outward-dipping slabs impassable.

Everest, at any time, is not a mountain that gives a second chance. In the conditions of 1933 it was the more urgent to seize with both hands whatever opportunity offered. It may be that the mountain was unclimbable in 1933. But within the limits imposed by the weather there were three mistakes or mishaps which may have affected the issue:

1. the failure to establish Camp 5 on the 20th May, and the consequent failure to make full use of the three favourable days, the 20th to the 22nd;
2. the instructions to Wyn Harris and Wager to reconnoitre the second step on the 30th May;
3. Shipton's illness on the 1st June, which left Smythe to make the last assault alone.

It is invidious to be wise after the event, but we cannot afford to ignore the lessons to be learnt.

About the first of these incidents it is enough to say that the leader, as he himself now recognizes, should have been at the advanced base, that is, at Camp 4, to direct operations on the final peak. Since this at that time was not in the plan, the man at Camp 4 with most experience should have taken charge and retrieved the failure of the 20th. Telephonic communication with Camp 4 had not then been established.

The attempt of the 30th May was confused by a dual objective: Wyn Harris and Wager were, first, to reconnoitre the second step, and then, if they could not climb it, to try Norton's route. They should have gone all out for one or the other. As it was, they were too late to go beyond Norton's farthest, and they were not even satisfied that the second step was unclimbable. Smythe has truly said in a letter in the last number of the Alpine Journal' Everest will only be climbed by a man who is single-minded in the matter of route, and any doubt or hesitancy in this respect must always lead to defeat'. On the 30th May the time for reconnaissance had passed, the sands were already running out. The balance of evidence, then as now, was that Norton's route was the more likely to be practicable; and the first attempt should have been a single-minded assault by Norton's route.

The attempt of the 1st June was doomed to failure from the moment that Shipton fell ill, and Smythe was left to do what he could alone. Solitary climbing is not a practice to be encouraged anywhere: on the last thousand feet of Everest, in dangerous condition, it is bad mountaineering. No one will blame Smythe for going on. Every one will be relieved that his skill and high courage brought him safely back. But we ought not to repeat a plan which, after so much effort, can culminate in so forlorn a hope.

On the other hand, it was a real achievement in such conditions to avoid all serious accident. This is the first duty of a leader on Everest, and it was a duty splendidly performed. Two climbers, it is true, had narrow escapes, glissading unroped on snow-slopes on the North Ridge: a needless risk that a tired man is tempted to take. But the porters were always safely led. There is nothing finer in Himalayan history than Longland's descent, through a blinding storm of wind and snow, with the men who had made the great carry to Camp 6.

There is nothing more important than the care of the porters. When all is said, it is on the porters that the ascent of a great Himalayan peak ultimately depends. No one in the Himalaya has ever got more out of his men than Ruttledge did on Everest.

 

Among the things that the next expedition will have to consider are acclimatization and deterioration, and the use of oxygen apparatus. Ruttledge's plan of slow acclimatization established his men at Camp 4, at 22,800 feet, far fitter than previous expeditions for the final climb. But the long delays at and above Camp 4, which were not in the plan but were compelled by the weather, led to deterioration which offset the benefit of acclimatization. It may be that this deterioration was due to lack of oxygen: that is, that there is a height limit thereabouts to man's capacity to acclimatize. Or it may be that it was due to the stress and strain, mental and physical, of life in a high Everest camp, to the cold and the wind and the snow, bad housing, underfeeding, and loss of sleep, the alternations of desperate effort and even more deadly monotony. Or it may be that it was due to both. However it may be, the obvious and logical remedy would be temporary withdrawal to a rest camp, say at Camp 2, at 19,800 feet, where there would be more oxygen and greater comfort. It is not likely that a temporary descent to 19,800 feet would set back the acclimatization already acquired. And, if reliefs are organized in regular rotation and there is telephonic communication, there need be no serious risk of opportunities missed. The climb from Camp 2 to Camp 4 is not, after all, very great for a party that is acclimatized and in good case. But it cannot be right to keep men who are deteriorating at 22,800 feet or higher continuously for nearly three weeks.

An alternative is to carry oxygen apparatus, either to forestall acclimatization or to counteract deterioration. Much has been written both for and against this aid. It may or may not be required by any particular climber in any particular year. But it is now generally agreed that in so great a hazard oxygen apparatus, because it is 'artificial', cannot be discarded for reasons of mere sentiment.

It is a corollary of acclimatization that the diet for the high camps must be adjusted. ^£Oh, for a few dozen eggs' is a story that every one would like to claim. This is not the place for detailed criticism or suggestion. It does, however, seem surprising to any one accustomed to Himalayan travel that there was no provision for baking regular supplies of bread. Biscuits soon become a sickening substitute. Vita-Weat or Ryvita would at least have been preferable.

Wireless made good. It is frequently said that an attempt on Everest is a fight against time and the monsoon; and prompt reports of the enemy's advance are obviously vital. The chapters on the weather and Himalayan meteorology add to our knowledge, and should increase confidence in weather reports in future. Internal communication between camps by telephone was also invaluable. There is always a danger, however, that too perfect communication may lead to interference and divided responsibility. The decision to abandon the expedition was certainly confused. This should have been the responsibility of the leader alone. As it was, the opportunity to observe conditions on Everest from July onwards was lost.

But the thing that really sticks out is this: the whole plan, the whole organization should concentrate on one thing, to place the strongest possible party, adequately supported, in the highest possible camp. The number and position of the camps are matters for the most careful thought. Smythe's letter in the Alpine Journal, already quoted, is an important summary of his own views. He considers that the passage of the couloir, at which previous assaults have ended, should be made secure, for about 400 feet, with pitons and fixed ropes. It has even been suggested that there should be a light advanced camp beyond the couloir, on the final pyramid. In any case, if the summit is to be reached, it is difficult to escape the conclusion that there should be a camp within striking distance of the couloir, with comfortable tentage and well provisioned, in which four climbers and, say, four porters could ride out bad weather. Some of us are old-fashioned enough to think that a party of three would attack the passage of the couloir more safely, and, therefore, more confidently and effectively than a party of two. Some of us would like to see a porter in the party which reaches the summit. There must at least be a sufficient reserve to avoid repetition of the fiasco of the 1st June 1933. Nor should a party which is going for the summit be required to descend again below the highest camp. These may seem counsels of perfection; but it becomes a question whether the preliminary effort is worth while if this much, at the last stage, is considered to be impracticable.

It would be unwise, however, to take it as axiomatic that the present route from the north is the only, or even the best, way to the top. If the outward-dipping slabs are impassable when covered with snow, it follows that success by this route must always be something of a gamble, depending on the presence or absence of snow at 28,000 feet. A reconnaissance of the south-west side, if it is ever politically possible, would be most interesting. The snow-line, no doubt, would be lower, and the slope may look steeper; but the rocks on this side would presumably dip inwards. It may be in fact, the old problem of the Matterhorn, which was stated by Whymper in his Scrambles. Moreover the south-west side of the mountain would be more sheltered from the torture of the west winds. Greater exposure to the monsoon would matter less, for, when the monsoon comes, the thing is finished any way.

It may be that the top has been reached already, by Mallory and Irvine in 1924. Odell may or may not have seen them below or above the second step. The axe which was found by Wyn Harris proves nothing. But the balance of probability is that there was a slip where the axe was found, on the descent, by an exhausted and perhaps benighted climber. The height which may previously have been reached is only limited by the strength and purpose of a man who was fey, and his devoted comrade.

It is to be hoped, at any rate, that Everest will soon be climbed by some one. Not until then will there be an end of altitude rivalry; not until then will the Himalaya be the mountaineer's playground.

G. L. Corbett.

 

 

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DEUTSCHE AM NANGA PARBAT: Der Angriff, 1934. By Fritz Beghtold. Munich: F. Bruckmann, 1935. 10x 7 inches; 148 pages; numerous illustrations. Mk. 3.50.

Fritz Bechtold's story of the German expedition to Nanga Parbat written for this Journal is an abbreviated version of his book. All who can should read the fuller story. In the manner of his telling', writes the President of the Alpine Club, 'in the simplicity of his style, in his loyalty to his comrades, Austro-German and Himalayan, Herr Bechtold has gained the respect and sympathy of every mountaineer'.¹ Elsewhere in this volume of the Himalayan Journal are recorded the achievements of the dead men. To quote again from Colonel Strutt's review: 'From beginning to end of the expedition it is plain that sahibs and natives were in the best possible relation. The story is one long tribute to the thirty-five Darjeeling men, and, reading between the lines, we realize mutual trust, mutual affection.^’

I counted Willy Merkl among my friends. Truth, honour, courage, loyalty, devotion, he had all the qualities of a leader who inspires great confidence. He told us in London his plans, and we felt instinctively that he would succeed. The Himalayan Club in India helped him to recruit the best trained porters in the Himalaya. He had the best wishes of his fellow members of the Club and the devotion of a first-class team.

Let each who goes on a pilgrimage to the high Himalaya learn what he can from the disaster. If it is loyalty misplaced that forbids two men to reach a summit without their leader, it is high loyalty. If, as some say, it is unwise to put such strength so high, at least there were none half-hearted in fighting out the issue. If there was an error, it was one of judgement. We all make such errors; the best make fewest. Success in such a venture depends on the leader's will and judgement, on the loyalty and support of his team, on their tenacity and unselfishness.

 

This is a story of great loyalty, single-mindedness, grim determination, self-sacrifice, and of a defeat turned to victory. The lessons are worth learning.

Nanga Parbat lulls the party to security, then strikes. Perhaps they stay too high too long. Now I see two men battling against the storm. They plough their way downwards through the deep snow and make a track for the rest to follow closely. The snow particles are driven like red-hot needles against their burning faces; they cannot see ten paces. They do all that is asked of them and more. The rest are following slowly; none will leave the weakest in each party. The leader's place is last. I see him there, among the weakest of his team, encouraging and helping them along. He cannot do more than give his life for them. One, at least, dies for him. 'Defeat and victory lay side by side.'

Kenneth Mason.

 

 

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KARAKORUM: Wissenschaftliche Ergebnisse der nieder- landischen Expeditionen in den Jahren 1922, 1925 und 1929-30. Edited by Dr. Ph. C. Visser and Jenny Visser- Hooft. Vol. i. Leipzig: F. A. Brockhaus, 1935. 11X7 inches; xviii+500 pages; illustrations and maps. (No price stated.)

This is the first volume of the collected scientific results of Dr. and Mrs. Visser's three Karakoram expeditions. We are not told how many volumes are to appear, but if they are to be as complete and comprehensive as this, they will be a notable addition to the scientific literature of this region. The contents of this first volume may be briefly summarized as follows: I. Geography (116 pages); II. Ethnography (38 pages); III. Zoology (340 pages).

The geographical section, by Dr. Visser, begins with the historical geography of the region and a brief account of its exploration, a necessary introduction to the discussion that comes later, though there is little new in it to students of the subject. There follow two detailed accounts of Dr. Visser's own expeditions, first of his Hunza- Nagar explorations of 1925, then of his two journeys in 1922 and 1929-30. These are mainly in narrative form. Accounts have appeared in English in various volumes of the Geographical Journal and there is again little for English readers to learn. The fourth part of the geographical section is important, for in it Dr. Visser summarizes his views on the question of mountain classification, though confining himself strictly to an orographical view-point. Some may not agree that orography alone should rule such a classification, but it is useful to have a considered and concise statement from one more traveller who has mastered the topographical details of the region.

Vol. lxviiij 1926, p. 457; vol. lxxxiv, 1934, p. 281.

 

Briefly, Dr. Visser's views are these. He divides the whole mountain region between the plains of northern Asia and the plains of India into two 'systems', separated by the Tarim Basin; these systems he calls the North Central Asian system and the South Central Asian system. He then divides the south system into the K'un-lun, the Aghil, the Karakoram, and the Himalaya, applying the term Gebirge to each. Probably in English, it would be better to omit the word mountains, or range, or chain from these terms. Lastly, he divides his Gebirge into Ketten or ranges, though he does not actually apply the word Kette to all. Thus he sub-divides his K'un-lun-Gebirge into the Kilian-K'un-lun, the K'un-lun-Hauptkette, and the Suget-K'un-lun; the Aghil-Gebirge into the Red-Aghil, the Aghil-Hauptkette, and the Shaksgam-Aghil; the Karakoram-Gebirge into the Karakoram- Hauptkette, the Saltoro-Karakoram, and the Ladakh-Karakoram. The complicated Hauptkette, or 'main range' of the Karakoram, is divided into Gruppen, but here, unfortunately, the English word 'Group' hardly means what is intended, for Dr. Visser's Gruppen are considerable lengths or sections of the main range. Probably 'section' or 'sector' would be the best equivalent in English. We still require the word 'group' for clusters of high peaks.

The scheme that Dr. Visser suggests is consistent and logical. We are, however, some distance from general agreement about the details. In his recent edition of The Geography and Geology of the Himalaya Mountains and Tibet (p. 121), Sir Sidney Burrard writes:

We made it clear in 1907 that our Aghil alignment was conjectural. Filippi's and Wood's surveys in 1904 north of the Karakorum showed that there was no Aghil range. Mason's surveys of the Shaksgam valley in 1926 showed that there is an Aghil ridge about 100 miles long dividing the drainage of the Shaksgam and Raskam rivers. It is only a minor surface feature when compared with such mighty ranges as the Karakorum and Kunlun.

It was Sir Francis Younghusband in 1887 who first discovered the Aghil range. Colonel Wood discovered the 'Red Range' to the north of it in 1914 (not 1904). The ranges were accurately put on the map in 1926; they contain peaks higher than those of the K'un-lun. Dr. Visser's explorations have shown that they extend considerably to the south-east, as was surmised in 1926; and he has surveyed them here in detail. My suggested nomenclature (Geographical Journal, vol. lxxvi, 1930) included Dr. Visser's 'Shaksgam-Aghil' as a range—not a ridge as stated by Sir Sidney Burrard—of the Karakoram ('the Aghil-Karakoram'). Sir Sidney classes them as a minor feature, not a range; that is, I attach less importance to the Aghil ranges than Dr. Visser, but very much more than Sir Sidney Burrard. An aline- ment of great ice-clad peak-clusters of over 22,000 feet seems to me more than ‘a mere surface feature'. It is quite possible that Dr. Visser, who elevates the Aghil into a Gebirge with three Ketten is correct, and it is here that the geologist should give his opinion.

Dr. Visser is wisely more cautious than Sir Sidney Burrard regarding the possible extension of the Karakoram across Tibet; and nothing can be gained by speculating further in the present state of our knowledge. Neither of his two sketch-maps, on p. 114 or at the end, extend beyond longitude 8o°, but his main range of the Karakoram is undoubtedly correctly shown as following the watershed between the Nubra and the upper Shyok, and is very similar to that of De Terra in his recent publication.¹

Enough has been said to indicate that Dr. Visser's contribution to the subject is carefully considered and should help towards final agreement among geographers. But the geological questions involved must not be ignored.

Mrs. Visser-Hooft's contribution to the ethnography of the region is mainly a collection of interesting notes on such objects as language, religion, and folk-lore; there is a useful bibliography at the end of this section.

The rest of the book contains a detailed list of the zoological specimens obtained. The section occupies 340 pages and is beautifully illustrated; 87 specialists of 17 different nations have contributed. The whole section has been arranged by Dr. J. B. Gorporaal, Director of the Zoological Museum at Amsterdam, but there has obviously been the closest co-operation between the members of the expeditions, the Bombay Natural History Society, and the Zoological Survey of India. Dr. Sunder Lai Hora and Mr. Dev Dev Mukeiji contribute an interesting account of the fishes. Mr. J. A. Sillem, who was a member of the last expedition, deals entirely with the birds. The completeness of the various collections is largely due to Mr. Sillem's energy.

K. M.

 

 

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HIMALAYAN WANDERER. By Brig.-General the Hon. G. G.
Bruce. London: Alexander Maclehouse & Co., 1934. 9x6 inches;
304 pages] 25 illustrations. 12s. 6d.

In early youth the author fell in love with the hills at his home in Glamorganshire and acquired a liking for geography, especially that of India. He also took a youthful interest in the campaigns of Sir Charles Napier in Sind, and was brought up on such books as The Old Shikari and My Indian Journal by Campbell, and Maclntyre's Hindu Koh. Thus it was that soon after joining his regiment he introduced himself and a companion to snow mountains in Switzerland, and accomplished an ascent of the Wetterhorn, so that a passion for the Himalaya was ready to burst into flame. Finally, in 1888, he travelled out to India with hopes of joining the Gurkhas.

 

The opinions of such a lifelong expert in Himalayan travel are important, and it is tempting to collect them from this pleasantly written book. His predilection, however, does not blind him to the fact that the Alps are infinitely better as a training-ground for mountaineers than the Himalaya. 'The place', he says, 'to learn snow and ice work is definitely in the Alps, where one is close to the mountains and continually at work.' Speaking of one of the Gurkhas who had received the most thorough training in mountaineering of any soldier in the regiment, he says that although this man had done an immense amount of mountain travel, his actual mountaineering experience, that is, real mountaineering, as understood in Switzerland, would not equal for the whole of his career the experience of the ordinary guide in full employment for one season. Moreover, the author admits that snow and ice climbing need not be an acquirement of Gurkhas.

Of the various Himalayan districts he speaks with the enthusiasm of a lover and a connoisseur, yet without pedantry. Of upper Kumaun and Garhwal he says they must be 'among the most beautiful parts of the entire Himalaya. The forest through which we marched even satisfied me with my critical sense accustomed to the great Kashmir forests.' Of the view from the Kuari pass he declares that the peaks were 'steep to a degree that Switzerland could not compare with'. Amid so much mountain scenery that appealed to him he seems to have loved Kulu and Lahul almost the best, and even prefers Kulu to Kashmir for forest scenery and colouring. Manali in Kulu he describes as a centre from which mountaineering can be enjoyed much in the same way as in Europe, and in gorgeous surroundings with rich valleys and woods of superb deodars. The Parvati valley he recommends as a centre from which many expeditions of progressive importance can be made. Lahul is praised for its fine climate, almost beyond the reach of the monsoon, and for its virile and honest Mongolian population. The colouring when the moist winds arrive from India is said to be finer than that of Tibet. Kulu, again, for richness of colouring is said to vie with that of the southern side of the Italian Alps.

In another passage he speaks of the Karakoram and that magnificent peak, the Muztagh Tower whose parallel among mountains he has never seen. Judging from the illustration, Sella's wonderful photograph, this peak, besides its astonishing outline, possesses something of the grace and symmetry of that other incomparable mountain, the Matterhorn.

Opinions, coming from such an authority, are indeed worthy of attention, for General Bruce must know more of the Himalaya than any man living. From the time that he joined the 5th Gurkhas in the year—but the date unfortunately is not mentioned—he has visited almost every district in the whole Himalayan chain, with the exception, of course, of most of the forbidden country in Nepal. Beginning with the Kagan Hills, he took part in the Tirah campaign, the Chilas campaign, in Conway's expedition to the Karakoram, and in the expedition to Nanga Parbat when Mummery perished. He is familiar with the country round Gilgit, with Hunza, Nagar, Chitral, Kashmir, the Mahsud hills, the Dhauli Dhar range, Ladakh, the Nun Kun, Kumaun, Garhwal, the Singalila ridge, and in one single season of six weeks saw the three highest mountains in the world: Everest, K², and Kangchenjunga.

Of the innumerable hill peoples that he has met he gives high praise to the shikaris of the Hindu Kush for their powers as hillmen and their knowledge of game. He also says that of all the tribes in the great Hindu Kush with whom he has had to do ^£as movers over the hill-sides' the Hunza men stand first, although he admits they have a fear of ice and cannot compare with the Sherpas and Tibetans of the east as yet. He thinks that although the Hunzakuts mostly live as low as 5,000 feet they ought to do first-class service to mountaineers in the future.

There are very few errata in this very interesting book, but on p. 288 the omission of a comma wrongly implies that Professor Dyhrenfurth ascended Kamet. On p. 291 'Captain Morris' should evidently read as 'Captain Morris Slingsby' and Mr. de Fonblanque's name has been misspelt on p. 161.

In conclusion we may quote General Bruce's description of the view of Nanga Parbat from Gor. He says of it:

No need here to have a sense of scale—the size and majesty were apparent. I cannot believe that there is its equal in any part of the world. May be there is some place in Nepal equally gloriously situated—there is one that I have my eye on as a possibility, but which I shall never see to verify. [The reviewer wonders if the author is referring to the gorge of the Kali.] I still keep in mind, however, as an unforgettable experience in the mountains that overwhelming landscape. It gave me a feeling of impossibility, it gave me also a feeling that one wasn't there, and it also gave me a feeling that if one was there one didn't matter.

There are no purple patches in General Bruce's books, but in the last few lines he is surely expressing the deepest emotions of a mountaineer.

C. F. Meade

 

 

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A PLANT HUNTER IN TIBET. By F. Kingdon Ward. London:
Jonathan Cape, 1934. 8x6 inches; 318pages; illustrations and maps.
12s. 6d.

It is difficult to keep count of the number of journeys Captain Kingdon Ward has made to the frontier region of Burma, Assam, and Tibet. He reminds us that it is his twelfth. He dashes out, travels and collects, dashes back, every one falls upon him, the Secretary of the Royal Geographical Society, and of the Linnean Society of London, his horticultural friends, Kew, and his publisher. Then back he dashes again. We just squeezed a paper out of him on 'The Forests of Tibet^’ for this volume of the Himalayan Journal, completed, as he remarked on half a sheet of notepaper, two days before he disappeared again, 'after working like a black—like ten blacks!. ‘. . 'P.S. Sorry I I leave on Thursday. I was just settling down; but one has to live!^’

This is by way of apologizing to his fellow members of the Club for not telling them in the Journal where he went last time and what he did.

In A Plant Hunter in Tibet Kingdon Ward tells us the story. Seizing a favourable moment he obtained permission to enter south-eastern Tibet and explore the country between Rima and the Salween. He went up the Lohit of Assam to Rima, in unadministered country, up the Rong To Chu to Rongyul in Tibetan Zayul, from there to the junction of the Ata Chu and the Zayul Ngu Chu, which is the name given to the upper Rong To stream, and over the Ata Kang La to Shugden Gompa in the Nagong district of Tibet. As far as the Ata Kang La he had Ronald Kaulback to survey the country and Brooks-Carrington as camera-man. Thereafter he travelled alone, botanizing, plant-collecting, observing, and surveying. Shugden Gompa was almost, but not quite unknown, for it had been visited by that intrepid explorer, A. K., of the Survey of India, in 1882, and by Colonel Bailey in 1911, for a day; but Kingdon Ward tells us much more about it. Particularly interesting are his observations on the physical and plant geography of the region.

From Shugden Gompa Kingdon Ward struck north in search of the Salween, crossed the Poyii La, a pass of about 15,000 feet, and followed the Tsa Chu valley almost down to the Salween, which he found entrenched in a deep valley at an altitude of 9,240 feet. He then returned by another new route, by the Aju Chu to Shugden, whence other exploratory journeys of importance were made. He recrossed the Ata Kang La to Modung, passed down the Rong To Chu to Mugu, and explored from there the Jara La which was last seen by white men in 1913. He returned over the Mishmi hills by the Dri La and the Delei river, some of which he had traversed on a previous expedition.

This very inadequate summary must suffice as an indication only of the country explored and mapped. The story is of exceptional interest and the author's manner of telling it vivid. He has an amusing and expressive way of describing incidents and of noting the things he sees; and yet when he gets on to his particular subjects of plants or geography, he is all seriousness at once.

Apart from his collection of plants, the main contribution of this journey is the pioneer exploration of a large block of country between the Rong To Chu, north of Rima, and the Salween at a point very far from that previously reached by European explorers. This block was previously almost a complete blank on our maps. Kingdon Ward shows how Shugden Gompa is situated in the heart of a great range dividing the Rong To Chu and the Salween, and he suggests that the Great Himalayan range does not follow the orographical grain of the country but trends south-eastwards across China to the Pacific Coast.¹ Geographers may or may not agree with him; at present there are arguments on both sides, and as he wisely writes in his paper in this Journal, 'There are years of patient work to be done yet before we shall be in a position to say definitely how the mountain folds run'. At present much too little is known to settle this question one way or another, and it is to be hoped that a competent geologist will make a detailed survey of the question, based on definite observations and not on theory. Meanwhile it is only necessary to stress, as the author does in his paper in this Journal, that his unorthodox view is at present an hypothesis only. As much, and no more, can be said of the more orthodox idea.

I hope you liked my book! I don't expect you to agree with it!' he wrote just before he dashed back to the East. I can assure him, wherever he is, that his hope is justified. Every one, in fact, who takes any interest in courageous travel, or in the plants and geography of the region, should buy it for himself.

K. M.

 

 

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TIBETAN TREK. By Ronald Kaulbagk. London: Hodder & Stoughton, 1934. 9x6 inches; 300 pages; illustrations and maps. 12 s. 6 d.

Mr. Kaulback, in common with many of his generation, found some difficulty in hitting upon a career; but having flirted with the medical profession, the Army, and the Diplomatic Service, he determined that he would not waste his youth, joined the Royal Geographical Society, and learnt 'the bed-rock knowledge required of an explorer—a knowledge of surveying'. His reward was an invitation from Captain Kingdon Ward to join an expedition into one of the less frequented parts of Tibet to collect new flowers and plants for cultivation in England.

 

The country traversed by Kaulback on this expedition was that portion of north-eastern Assam and southern Tibet, which lies between latitudes 27⁰ 50' and 29⁰ 10' N., and longitudes 95⁰ 40' and 98° E. The party travelled up the Lohit valley from Sadiya, where Kaulback formed no great affection for the idle, supercilious, Digaru Mishmis. They soon reached unadministered country, where they encountered the many plagues of the tropical jungle, sand-flies, blister-flies, mosquitoes, leeches, and the rest. Though Kaulback is filled with horror by spiders and leeches, he shows an uncanny familiarity with snakes, however venomous, more than one of which he keeps as a pet during the journey, tucked away in his shirt, to the understandable disquietude of his companions.

The author accompanied Captain Kingdon Ward through Rima and Shigatang. At Rongyul a bitter disappointment was in store for him. A communication from the Government of India, which should have reached them before they left Sadiya, arrived forbidding him to enter Tibet, because his name was not expressly mentioned on Kingdon Ward's permit. Permission was, however, obtained for him to travel as far as the Ata Kang La, the pass that divides the province of Zayul from that of Nagong. This was some consolation to the author, who gives some interesting sidelights on the customs of the people.

At the end of June the party began to climb in earnest. On the 15th July Kaulback had to turn back. He pays a tribute to Captain Kingdon Ward, who had 'not only been a magnificent leader but a most marvellous companion'. Thereafter he was to taste the cares and responsibility of a leader himself, in a land practically unknown after he turned south-eastwards from Rima towards Burma. The Lohit valley through which they had come from Assam would have been almost impassable during the monsoon. The wisest course was therefore to attempt to reach Fort Hertz in Burma, over the Diphuk La, a pass of 14,250 feet. Kaulback gives an account of this journey in considerable detail. Fort Hertz was reached on the 24th September, 200 days after leaving Sadiya. It was a fine achievement for the author, on his first journey and at the age of 24, to lead his party back over those inhospitable mountains during the worst season of the year, for as Captain Kingdon Ward remarks in his introduction, the Diphuk La had only been previously crossed twice by white men, and on both occasions by experienced travellers.

The photographs are adequate, but it would have been more convenient to readers if the two maps had been bound so that they could be extended from the book and followed with the text.

The reader will agree with Captain Kingdon Ward that Kaulback ‘has won his spurs as a serious explorer at an early age, and has at least a quarter of a century of exploration in front of him. We shall hear of him again’. It is to be hoped that this prophecy will be fulfilled, that at the end of this period Kaulback will look back upon many journeys with as much pleasure as he does on this, and that he will write just as pleasant accounts of them.

G. J. M. Longden.

 

 

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AN EASTERN ODYSSEY: The Third Expedition of Haardt and Audouin-Dubreuil. By Georges le Fevre. (Translated and adapted from the French by Major-General Sir E. D. Swinton, k.b.e., c.b., d.s.o. ('Ole Luk-Oie'). London: Victor Gollancz, 1935. 9 ½ x6 ½ inches; 368 pages; illustrations and maps. 18 s.

This book is the authorized adaptation in English of La Croisiere Jaune, the story of the Haardt Mission across Asia in 1931-2, to which allusion at the time was made in the Himalayan Journal.¹⁴ We then gave a brief account of the journey of the Pamir Group from Syria, across Traq, Persia, Afghanistan, British India, and Kashmir to Gilgit. Of the seven light six-wheeled caterpillar-tractors drawing trailers which left Beirut, two reached Gilgit, and one struggled a day's march farther. This group was accompanied by Haardt himself, the leader of the expedition, and M. Audouin-Dubreuil. The China Group, with the same number of tractors, commanded by Lieutenant Victor Point, left Tientsin two days after Haardt left Beirut; but whereas Haardt's difficulties were mainly physical, for he met with a cordial reception everywhere, Point's were political, and he encountered nothing but opposition and intrigue throughout his journey. Intrigue nearly brought about disaster, but by perseverance the party reached Urumchi, less one tractor, which had to be left at Hami, though it followed later, after considerable adventures. The two groups eventually met at Aksu, the Pamir Group arriving across the Pamirs on foot and ponyback.

The account is of lively and dramatic interest. The English version benefits considerably by having the able pen of the author of Duffer's Drift and the Green Curve to present it. The thrills are there without some of the frills of the original, and the whole story gains considerably in consequence. The enormous difficulties overcome by the two tractors on the Gilgit road are well told without exaggeration and well illustrated by the hair-raising photograph opposite p. 202. A series of early break-downs due to trouble with the track- bands near Peiping gives an interesting side-light on modern Asia. Paris was wired to for spares. These reached the China Group in fourteen days, by rail via Moscow, Irkutsk, Harbin, Tientsin, and Peiping, in 30 cases 6 feet long, as the personal baggage of a single employee of Citroen, who knew not a single word of Russian or Chinese. The turmoil of the Sinkiang province is illustrated by the adventures of one of the party, Petro-Pavlovsky, who was besieged for two months in Hami with General Ju, by the Turki rebels under Ma Jung Ling. Under such circumstances it is not to be expected that much scientific work was done.

The volume is dedicated to Georges-Marie Haardt, the organizer of the expedition, who died of double pneumonia at Hong Kong, loved and respected by all his companions of the journey.

K. M.

 

 

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PERMANENT WAY THROUGH THE KYBER. By Victor Bayley, c.i.e., c.b.e., m.i.g.e. London: Jarrolds, 1934. 6x9 ½ inches; 287 pages; 16 illustrations (plates). 18s. net.

For years the project of a railway up the Khyber lay pigeon-holed among other highly desirable, but apparently impracticable, schemes of frontier defence. 'Give me two Army corps and a railway behind me, and I'd defy the whole of Asia, and Europe too', a great Com- mander-in-Chief is reported to have said as he gazed over the Kabul river from the heights above Michni Kandao. A railway up the Khyber would make India impregnable where hitherto she had been most open to an invading army from the historically dangerous north, but it seemed impossible of achievement. . The engineering difficulties were declared to be insurmountable; the political complications that would have to be overcome were just as formidable. The opposition of the tribes to this threat upon their independence would rouse the whole frontier, and behind were Kabul and Russia, with their enormous interests and influences. Then came the Great War, and, following close upon it, the Afghan invasions of the Khyber and the Kurram. The military occupation of the Khyber was forced upon us; it had to be made effective. The Government of India had 'supped full of horrors' in those few years, and the political dangers so dreaded in the past seemed now, in comparison, not so terrible. The limits of possibility in every sphere had been extended; perhaps a railway up the Khyber might be possible after all. Lieut.-Colonel G. R. Hearn, r.e. (now Colonel Sir Gordon Hearn), showed by a masterly survey that it was; his plan was approved by the Government, and construction started in 1920. Five years later, on the 2nd November 1925, Sir Charles Innes, the Railway member of the Governor-General's Council, performed the ceremony of opening the Khyber Railway. Then—to quote The Times report—^cthe guests left [Jamrud] for Landi Kotal in special trains, the line rising by loops and spirals, over high bridges, through thirty-four tunnels and several gorges. The journey created unbounded admiration in the minds of all at the manner in which the difficulties had been surmounted by the engineers.⁵

This admiration will be shared by all who read this fascinating account of the way in which these difficulties were, from day to day, met and defeated. The author was posted in November 1920 as an Executive Engineer in the Railway Department for service on the Khyber Railway construction. Railhead was then at Jamrud and the survey provided for the extension of the broad-gauge line up to the summit at Landi Kotal and down again the other side to the Afghan frontier. The whole length was divided into two Divisions, and Mr. Bayley was allotted the 2nd Division with head-quarters at Landi Kotal; later he was put in charge of the whole construction works, and remained in charge till the completion in 1925. Any one who knows the Khyber will realize what a strain upon the body and mind five years of work in it must entail, and it is not surprising that, after he had run the first trial train safely up to Landi Kotal, the successful engineer was ordered on sick leave to England and missed the plaudits of the opening ceremony. But, as he says, the job was done, and that was all that mattered.

How was 'the job done'? This book will tell you, and in such a a way that you will find yourself enjoying and actually understanding technical details of construction which, if related in the orthodox style, would be unendurable by the layman. Mr. Bayley's way of telling is the conversational; it is deceptively effective. At the end of a chapter of quite natural dialogue with a delightfully characterized padre, for example, you become aware that you have learned a lot about formation levels, dip and strike of strata, dynamite and tunnelling, the vagaries of flood water, the psychology of the Pathan, tribal legends, and climatic problems.

The construction of the Khyber railway was indeed a wonderful achievement, but this account of it is, in a literary sense, more remarkable still. We English, as a race, are blessed in men who can 'do things', in Kipling's phrase, but it is not often that these men can tell us how the things are done. Mr. Bayley can. The professional writer would have spoiled the story by fine writing and many a trick of craftmanship; Mr. Bayley has the unusual gift of thinking aloud. He had to think a good deal on this job, and luckily for us he has not forgotten how he thought. The engineering problems were not the most difficult he had to tackle. His work was in tribal territory; his workmen, men of the tribes. At the beginning he was told, 'The tribesmen are a wild crowd, and apparently they've sworn they'll capture and torture any railway officers who dare to start work in their territory.' Towards the end these same tribesmen 'now spoke of "our railway", and seemed to be proud of it'.

In short, we owe the Khyber railway to the genius of its surveyor, Hearn, and to the work of the engineers and their tribal labourers, but even more to the fact that Abdul Jafar Khan and other old Maliks liked Bayley Sahib and backed him up. And if you read this book you will understand why they did.

S. G. Dunn.

 

 

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TURKESTAN SOLO. By Ella K. Maillart. Translated from the French by John Rodker. London: Putnam, 1934. 9x6 inches; xi+307 pages; maps and illustrations. 10s. 6d.

Mile Maillart is an adventurous Swiss lady, equipped with a knowledge of five languages, high courage, plenty of common sense, and a keen sense of observation. With a rather doubtfully acquired passport she travelled with some Russian acquaintances to the Soviet republics of Central Asia; Kirghizistan, Kazakstan, Uzbekistan, and Turkmenistan. The book is a record of her experiences and is in two parts. The first deals with the Issik Kul region and the northern ranges of the Tien Shan; the second records her observations in Tashkent, Samarkand, and Bokhara, after her friends had returned to Moscow.

Mile Maillart wisely confines her story to a strict account of her observations, avoiding criticism; she describes the effects of collectivization among Kazaks and Kirghiz, without passing final judgement on its suitability to nomad culture. It seems that travel and the purchase of supplies are far less easy than formerly, though the land is more intensely cultivated. There are records of some interesting conversations with exiled Russians and others. In places the book seems to be a compilation of jottings from a journal kept day by day, and is written in the staccato, often verbless, style of modern impressionist journalism. Such a style suits the settled parts of Central Asia rather than the mountains, and, in fact, the weakest parts of the book are those dealing with the topography of the Tien Shan, where the sequence of travel is somewhat obscured by trivial incident. The second half of the book is the better. The chapters on 'Samarkand the Incomparable', 'the Trial of the Bassmatchi', and 'Bokhara the Fallen', are of very great human interest; and all who take an interest in what goes on beyond the frontiers of India should read these chapters. The translation is good, and the illustrations excellent though rather awkwardly bound.

K. M.

 

 

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POPULAR HANDBOOK OF INDIAN BIRDS. By Hugh Whistler, f.z.s. (late Indian Police). London; Gurney & Jackson, 1935. 2nd edition; 9x6 inches; xxviii+513 pages; numerous figures and plates from drawings by H. Gronvold. 15s.

The first edition of Mr. Whistler's standard book on Indian birds which was published in 1928 was exhausted by 1933.¹ As the demand showed no signs of slackening, the author seized the opportunity of revising it and producing a considerably larger edition with additional plates, coloured and otherwise, at the same price. The number of species fully described has been increased from 150 to 275; and if those resident in southern India had any complaint that the first edition was biased in favour of the north, they no longer can complain. In addition short notes have been added on over 230 other species, so that more than 500 species are now brought to the notice of the beginner in Indian ornithology.

Since 1929 Mr. Whistler has been working at the materials provided by the various regional surveys of Indian birds, collected through the generosity of Mr. H. S. Vernay, and the Governments of Hyderabad, Travancore, Cochin, and Jodhpur, as well as at those collected during Admiral Lynes's Kashmir expedition of 1928. He has therefore been able to do a great deal of revision of questions concerning the distribution and sub-specific classification of Indian birds. This research has been worked into the text of the new edition, which is therefore very much more than a mere reprint.

The book is designed expressly for the beginner, so that he can recognize all the ordinary birds he is likely to meet, and can learn their habits. Each species is treated separately under a heading consisting of the English name and the binomial scientific name. Then follows the description of male and female, with winter and summer plumage, field identification, distribution, and habits. As in the first edition the sociability and domesticity of the birds have been treated in a way that arouses the interest of the beginner, and must encourage many who have had little knowledge of the subject to fall a victim to its fascination. The publishers were wise enough to know when they produced the first edition that they were on a good thing, and they preserved the plates of the beautiful illustrations by Mr. Gronvold with great care. Instead of profiting selfishly by this forethought, they have shown their wisdom by giving much more for the same money. The book is scholarly, fascinating, and complete.

K. M.

 

 

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TOURS IN SIKHIM. By Percy Brown. (Revised and edited by Joan Townend.) Calcutta: W. Newman & Co., 1934. 7X5 inches; 223 pages; mountain profiles and map. Rs.5 as.8.

No traveller should go into Sikkim without Mr. Percy Brown's useful little guide book. First published in 1917, it has now run into the third edition, which has been entirely revised by the capable and energetic honorary secretary of the Eastern Branch of the Himalayan Club, who has wisely enlisted the co-operation of other members of the Club with first-hand experience of the various routes. To stress the debt we owe to the original author and his fellow members of the Club is the object of this brief note. The book has become a child of our own, and no member of the Eastern Section should be without a copy. A member should dangle his copy before the eyes of his friends, but not lend it. Apart from the interest of the many tours described, the mountain panoramas must be of very great interest to visitors to the hills, while the new map at the end is a vast improvement on that contained in earlier editions. The spelling of place-names in Sikkim has been a matter of great difficulty, and the sooner the systematic revision of nomenclature is undertaken the better. Perhaps some geographically minded philologist of the Club will take this in hand before the next edition is called for. An effort has been made to be consistent, but the task at present is wellnigh impossible. It is perhaps a pity that the official spelling of the country itself has not been adopted in the title and in the text, though it appears on the map at the end; but this is a very minor criticism, and one which detracts in no way from the value of the book.

K. M.

 

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