Part 16 (1/2)
The tasks allotted to the detachment were:--
(1) A general survey of the whole unmapped area covered by the Expedition, on a scale of 1 inch to 4 miles.
(2) A detailed survey of the immediate environs of Mount Everest on the scale of 1 inch to 1 mile.
(3) A complete revision of the existing -inch map of Sikkim.
With the exception of a few rough notes and sketches by early travellers and missionaries in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, our first knowledge of the Southern portion of the Tibetan province of Tsang dated from the epoch of the Survey of India by trained native explorers in the middle of the nineteenth century. Thus, much of the area visited by the Expedition in 1921 was traversed by the explorer Hari Ram during the course of his two journeys in 1871-2 and 1885 respectively. At that time, however, foreign surveyors were not regarded with favour in Tibet; work could only be carried on surrept.i.tiously, and the resulting map merely consisted of a small-scale route traverse which gave no indication of the surface features beyond the explorer's actual route.
The first rigorous survey undertaken in the neighbourhood was that carried out by Captain C. H. D. Ryder, R.E. (now Colonel Ryder, C.I.E., D.S.O., Surveyor-General of India), during the Tibet Mission of 1903-1904. During the stay of the Mission at Kampa, the -inch survey was carried as far West as longitude 88; while, on the subsequent return march up the Tsangpo Valley, surveys were extended as far as the Southern watershed of the great river--the so-called Ladak Range--in lat.i.tude 29 approximately.
West of longitude 88 there thus remained a stretch of unsurveyed country some 14,000 square miles in area, between the Ladak Range on the North and the Great Himalaya Range on the South--the latter forming the Northern frontier of Nepal. The Mount Everest Expedition provided an opportunity of making good the whole of this area, with the exception of some 2,000 square miles at the extreme Western end, into which, in view of the restrictions of the Indian Foreign Department, I did not feel justified in penetrating.
Fortunately, Colonel Bury's plans contemplated an outward Northerly journey via Shekar and Tingri to the Western flanks of Mount Everest, whence the reconnaissance of the mountain was to be carried out from West to East, parallel to the Northern frontier of Nepal. This rendered feasible the mapping of the whole unsurveyed area between the Southern watershed of the Tsangpo and the Great Himalaya Range, as far West as longitude 85 30', without in any way infringing the Foreign Department's orders and restrictions.
For the purpose of the detailed survey of the Mount Everest regions, it was arranged for my a.s.sistant, Major Wheeler, to make a thorough test of the Canadian pattern of photo-survey apparatus, of which he had had previous experience in the Canadian Rocky Mountains. This method of survey, which had not hitherto been employed in India, is particularly adapted for use in high mountain regions. Fortunately, the experimental outfit, which had recently been ordered from England, was delivered just in time to accompany the Expedition. Wheeler's account of his season's work will be found in Appendix II.
With a view to carrying out the revision survey of Sikkim while awaiting the arrival of the members of the Expedition from England, the Survey Detachment was authorised to a.s.semble at Darjeeling early in April, six weeks before the date fixed for the start of the Expedition. In spite of an unusually wet and cloudy spring, the three surveyors made such good use of their time that 2,500 square miles of country were completed before the advance of the Expedition necessitated the temporary abandonment of this work.
After completing the necessary preliminaries with Colonel Bury, I myself left Darjeeling on May 13, intending to rejoin the remainder of the Expedition in Sikkim. Continuous rain, however, rendered the latter task impossible; the Sikkim roads were, moreover, blocked in several places by severe landslips, so that I was only with difficulty able to reach Kampa by the 28th. It transpired, however, that there was no cause for hurry, since the main body of the Expedition, travelling via the Chumbi Valley, had encountered greater difficulties than mine, and did not arrive at Kampa until June 5. While awaiting their arrival, I filled in the time by occupying and re-observing from Colonel Ryder's old triangulation stations of 1903, overlooking the Kampa Plain.
I had received no news whatever of the Expedition or of the outside world since leaving Darjeeling three-and-a-half weeks previously.
Consequently the death of my old friend Dr. Kellas on the very day of their arrival at Kampa came to me as a very severe shock.
The Sikkim revision-survey having been so much hampered by bad weather, I decided to take only two of the three surveyors with the Expedition into Tibet, leaving Surveyor Turabaz Khan to complete the comparatively dry areas of Northern Sikkim before the arrival of the monsoon. This he succeeded in doing at the cost of considerable personal discomfort, returning to Darjeeling in July.
It was not until we reached the summit of the Tinki Pa.s.s on June 11 that we found ourselves for the first time looking into unsurveyed country.
From here onwards as far as Tingri the survey was kept up by Lalbir Singh, whose unflagging energy alone enabled him to keep pace with the long marches of the Expedition. Each morning he was away with his plane-table and squad of coolies long before our breakfast was served, seldom reaching camp before nightfall. The gathering clouds and other ominous signs of a rapidly approaching monsoon, however, forbade any respite.
On arrival at Tingri, after spending a week in fruitless efforts to observe the triangulated peaks of the main Himalayan Range through the dense monsoon clouds which were daily piling up more and more thickly from the South, I departed on June 26 with Surveyor Gujjar Singh on a short trip to explore and map the upper valley of the Bhong Chu.
Our first march led across the wide Tingri Plain, past the hot spring village of Tsamda, to the hamlet of Dokcho, at the Southern extremity of the Sutso Plain. This plain is covered with the ruins of numerous villages and watch-towers, the haunt of countless rock-pigeons. They are all of loftier and more substantial construction than the miserable hovels which form the scattered hamlets of to-day--indicating, apparently, the former presence of a large and warlike population. It is impossible even to hazard a guess at the age of these ruins, which may have preserved their present state for generations in the comparatively arid climate of Tibet. Many of the towers are 60 feet or more in height; roofs and floors have all disappeared, but the ma.s.sive mud walls in many instances still bear the marks of the wooden shuttering used in their erection. This method of construction is unknown, I believe, in Tibet at the present day.
The next day's march, skirting the Western edge of the plain, brought us to the village of Phuri, where the river flows in a flat-bottomed, cultivated valley, between bare brown hills. On the 28th we camped at Menkhap-to, the highest village in the valley. The headman, a sort of local ”warden of the marches,” refused to see me and shut himself up in his house, guarding his door with three huge mastiffs who effectively frustrated the efforts of my messengers to establish communications.
Evidently he feared the subsequent results to himself of harbouring strangers. The remaining villagers were quite friendly, however, and supplied all my requirements. One man, the owner of a gun, surprised me by a request for 12-bore cartridges just after I had greatly shocked his neighbour's Buddhist susceptibilities by killing a b.u.t.terfly for my collection! Much snow is reported to fall at Menkhap-to, which is deserted during the winter months, when the inhabitants descend to Menkhap-me (”lower Menkhap”) and the Sutso Plain.
Above Menkhap-to the road leaves the main valley and proceeds Westwards over a spur known as the Lungchen La (17,700 feet). This spur commands an extensive view across the wide, uninhabited Pekhu Plain, with its three lakes, as far as the snowy range running North-west from the summit of Gosainthan. On a fine day, the whole panorama can be sketched in from a couple of fixings on either side of the pa.s.s; unfortunately, at the time of our arrival bad weather had set in, and the whole snow-range was hidden in cloud. I had therefore to leave Gujjar Singh camped near the summit of the pa.s.s to await a fine day for the completion of his surveys, and myself returned at the end of the month to Tingri, where I rejoined Mr. Wollaston, who had been detained at headquarters by an outbreak of enteric fever amongst the Expedition servants.
Wild game is plentiful in the Upper Bhong Valley. I shot numerous hares, some ramchakor and a bar-headed goose during the trip; while Gujjar Singh caught a young, week-old burhel lamb on the summit of the Lungchen Pa.s.s, which, however, died after three weeks in captivity. Gazelle are common on the Sutso Plain.
By the end of June, Lalbir Singh had finished the inking of his previous surveys, and was ready for fresh work. Accordingly, after spending a couple of days in examining his board, and checking the spelling of his village names with the aid of the local Tibetan officials, I despatched him on a lengthy programme of work in Pharuk and Kharta. It was three months before I saw him again.
About this time a messenger arrived from the Dzongpen of Nyenyam, inviting us to visit his district, which lay four marches to the Southwest, in the valley of the Po Chu or Bhotia Kosi R. Although Nyenyam was not one of the districts specifically mentioned in our pa.s.sport, Wollaston and I decided, with the concurrence of Colonel Bury, to avail ourselves of the opportunity of visiting this little-known area.
Leaving Tingri on July 13, with the interpreter Gyalzen Kazi and Surveyor Gujjar Singh, who had now returned after completing his work on the Lungchen Pa.s.s, we camped that evening at Langkor, a small village at the Western edge of the Tingri Plain. A cantilever bridge which spans the Gya Chu opposite the village had been carried away by floods shortly before our arrival, and the whole population of the hamlet, male and female, were busily engaged in its reconstruction, working in relays to the accompaniment of prolonged and vigorous blasts on a ”conch” which a monk was diligently blowing in order--as it was explained to us--to avert further rainfall until the bridge should be completed. His efforts were rewarded with tolerable success, as the rain held off all day in spite of the threatening storm-clouds which loomed up from the South-west.
The most interesting feature of Langkor is an ancient temple, an appanage of the great Drophung monastery of Lhasa. This building, which is said to be over 1,000 years old, contains a sacred stone alleged to have been hurled across the Himalayan Range from India, and to have pitched in the Tingri Plains. The name Tingri is said to be derived from the noise (”ting”) made by the falling stone. The stone is carefully preserved inside a wooden box, which is opened with much ceremony on the first day of the Tibetan new year. The temple, which is managed by a committee of fifteen civilian monks (nyakchang), also contains a library of 4,400 books, and an image of the Indian saint Tamba Sanye which is popularly believed to have grown by itself from the ground _in situ_.