Part 13 (2/2)
Mila Respa, poet and saint and (it is said) a Tibetan incarnation of Buddha, spent his earthly life in this mountain valley, living under rocks and in caves, where the faithful may see his footprints even now.
He seems to have been not lacking in a sense of humour. He was walking with a disciple on the mountain one day, when they found an old yak's horn lying in the path. Mila Respa told the disciple to pick it up and take it with him. The disciple refused, saying that it was useless, and pa.s.sed on without noticing that the saint himself had picked up the horn and put it under his cloak. Soon afterwards a mighty storm descended on them--whether or not it was caused by the saint is not known. He took the horn from under his cloak and crept inside it. ”Now,” said he, when he was safely sheltered from the rain, ”you see that nothing in the world is useless.”
We stayed for two days at Lapche Kang, picking flowers and enjoying the beauty of the place, in spite of the clouds which swept up from the South and filled the valley from early morning onwards. To a naturalist it was a tantalizing place; there were many unfamiliar birds that we had not seen in Tibet, but in such a sacred place I dared not offend the people by taking life, and I even had some qualms in catching b.u.t.terflies. One of the prettiest sights I saw was a wall-creeper, like a big crimson-winged moth, fluttering over the temple buildings in search for insects.
Having found Lapche Kang, where no European had before penetrated, and having placed it on the map, our next object was to go over the ranges Eastward to the Rongshar Valley, the head of which had been visited by members of the Expedition a few weeks earlier. This was accomplished in two long days of rather confused climbing over two pa.s.ses of about 17,000 feet, crossing sundry glaciers and stumbling over moraines, and nearly always in an impenetrable fog. Our views of mountains were none at all, but the beauty of the flowers at our feet was almost compensation for that. Among many stand out two in particular, both of them primulas. One was ivory-white, about the bigness of a cowslip, with wide open bells and the most delicate primrose scent: the other carried from four to six bells, each as big as a lady's thimble, of deep azure blue and lined inside with frosted silver.[16]
[16] Both of these are new species; the former has been described as _Primula Buryana_, the latter as _P. Wollastonii_.
As we went down the last steep slope into the Rongshar Valley, the clouds parted for a few moments, and across the valley and incredibly high above our heads appeared the summit of Gauri-Sankar,[17] one of the most beautiful of Himalayan peaks, blazing in the afternoon sun. It was a glorious vision, but it rather added to our regret for the views of peaks that we might have seen. The next morning at daybreak the whole mountain was clear from its foot in the Rongshar River (10,000 feet) up through woods of pine and birch, to rhododendrons and rocks, and so by a knife-edged ridge of ice to its glistening summit. It recalled to me the Bietsch-horn more than any other Alpine peak, a Bietsch-horn on the giant scale and seemingly impa.s.sable to man.
[17] Gauri-Sankar (23,440 ft.) was for many years confused with Mount Everest, which is still misnamed Gauri-Sankar in German maps.
[Ill.u.s.tration: GAURI-SANKAR.]
The valley of the Rongshar, like the Nyenyam and other valleys we had visited, though within the Tibetan border, is really more Nepalese in character. The climate is much damper than in Tibet, as one can see by the wisps of lichen on the trees and the greenness of the vegetation far up the mountain sides, especially at this season of monsoon, when the South wind blows dense clouds of drenching moisture through the gorges.
Like those valleys the Rongshar is sacred, which is inconvenient when the question of food supply is pressing. The people had cattle and flocks of goats; they would sell us an ox or a goat, but we must not kill it within the valley, or ill-luck would come to them. They were a friendly and good-tempered people, much given to religion. In many places we had seen prayer wheels worked by water, but here for the first time we saw one driven by the wind. Though it does not do much work at night, it probably steals a march on the water wheels in winter, when the streams are frozen.
We walked up the valley of Rongshar, which in July should be called the Valley of Roses; on all sides were bushes, trees almost, of the deep red single rose in bloom, and the air was filled with the scent of them.
After a journey of about 150 miles through unknown country we came to the village of Tazang, which had been visited by some of us before.
Thence over the Phuse La (the Pa.s.s of Small Rats) we came into real Tibet again, and so in a few days to the Eastern side of Mount Everest.
CHAPTER XIX
NATURAL HISTORY NOTES
To a naturalist Tibet offers considerable difficulties: it is true that in some places animals are so tame that they will almost eat out of your hand; for instance, in the Rongbuk Valley the burhel (wild sheep) come to the cells of the hermits for food, and in every village the ravens and rock-doves are as fearless as the sparrows in London. But against this tameness must be set the Buddhist religion, which forbids the people from taking life, so that, whereas in most countries the native children are the best friends of the naturalist, in Tibet we got no help from them whatever. Also, in order to avoid giving possible offence, we were careful to refrain from shooting in the neighbourhood of monasteries and villages, and that was a very severe drawback, as birds congregated princ.i.p.ally about the cultivated lands near villages.
Another difficulty we found was in catching small mammals, which showed the greatest reluctance to enter our traps, whatever the bait might be.
One species only, a vole (_Phaiomys leucurus_), was trapped; all the others were shot, and that involved a considerable expenditure of time in waiting motionless beside burrows. In spite of these disadvantages we made considerable collections of mammals and birds, and we brought back a large number of dried plants and seeds, many of which it is hoped will live in the gardens of this country.
[Ill.u.s.tration: LOWER KAMA-CHU.]
Crossing over the Jelep La from Sikkim into Tibet in the latter part of May we found the country at 12,000 feet and upwards at the height of spring. The open level s.p.a.ces were carpeted with a dark purple and yellow primula (_P. gammieana_), a delicate little yellow flower (_Lloydia tibetica_) and many saxifrages. The steep hillsides were ablaze with the flowers of the large rhododendrons (_R. thomsoni_, _R.
falconeri_, _R. aucklandi_) and the smaller _Rhododendron campylocarpum_, an almost infinite variety of colours.[18] A descent through woods of pines, oaks and walnuts brought us to the picturesque village of Richengong, in the Chumbi Valley, where we found house-martins nesting under the eaves of the houses. Following up the Ammo Chu, in its lower course between 9,000 and 12,000 feet, we found the valley gay with pink and white spiraeas and cotoneasters, red and white roses, yellow berberis, a fragrant white-flowered bog-myrtle, anemones and white clematis. Dippers, wagtails and the white-capped redstart were the commonest birds along the river-banks. From Yatung we made an excursion of a few miles up the Kambu Valley, and there found a very beautiful Enkianthus (_Enkianthus himalaicus_), a small tree about 15 feet high, with cl.u.s.ters of pink and white flowers; in the autumn the leaves turn to a deep copper red.
[18] We marked many of the best-flowering specimens with the intention of collecting their seeds on our return in the autumn.
Unfortunately when we came over the Jelep La in October it was in a heavy snowstorm which made collecting impossible.
At about 11,000 feet is a level terrace, the plain of Lingmatang, where the stream meanders for two or three miles through a lovely meadow covered in the spring with a tiny pink primula (_P. minutissima_): it looks a perfect trout stream, but what fish there are (_Schizopygopsis stoliczae_) are small and few in number.
Between 11,000 and 13,000 feet you ascend through mixed woods of pine, larch, birch and juniper with an undergrowth of rhododendrons and mountain ash. The larches here have a much less formal habit of growth than those of this country, and in the autumn they turn to a brilliant golden colour. The berries of the mountain ash, when ripe, are white and very conspicuous. At this alt.i.tude _Rhododendron cinnabarinum_ reaches its best growth, in bushes of from 8 to 10 feet in height, and the flowers have a very wide range of colour. In the woods hereabouts may often be heard and sometimes seen the blood pheasant, and here lives also--but we did not see it--the Tibetan stag.
At about 13,000 feet at the end of May you find a yellow primula covering the ground more thickly than cowslips in this country; the air is laden with the scent of it, and growing with it is a pretty little heath-like flower (_Ca.s.siope fastigiata_) with snow-white bells. Here and there is seen the large blue poppy (_Meconopsis_ sp.) and a white anemone with five or six flowers on one stem. Soon the trees get scantier and scantier, pines disappear altogether and then birches and willows and junipers, until only dwarf rhododendrons (_R. setosum_) are left, covering the hillsides like purple heather.
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