Mount Everest, the Reconnaissance, 1921

The ascent from the North col, Changa La, 23,000 feet, to the summit of Mount Everest, 29,000 feet, is only 6,000 feet, and the distance to traverse is about 2 miles. As far as can be judged from the numerous photographs of Mount Everest, the climbing is straightforward with no insurmountable difficulties in the form of steep rock precipices. There will be no glaciers overhanging the route which might send

But the final ascent will test the endurance of the climbers to the utmost. Many people have found the last 1,000 feet of Mont Blanc more than they could accomplish. The last 1,000 feet of Mount Everest will only be conquered by men whose physique is perfect, and who are trained and acclimatised to the last possible limit, and who have the determination to struggle on when every fibre of their body is calling out—Hold! enough!

The struggle will be a great one, but it will be worth the while. To do some new thing beyond anything that has been previously accomplished, and not to be dominated by his environment, has made man what he is, and has raised him above the beasts. He always has been seeking new worlds to conquer. He has penetrated into the forbidding ice-worlds at the two poles, and many are the secrets he has wrested from Nature. There remains yet the highest spot on the world's surface. No doubt he will win there also, and in the winning will add one more victory over the guarded secrets of things as they are.

APPENDIX I

THE SURVEY

By Major H. T. MORSHEAD, D.S.O.

The personnel selected to form the Survey Detachment under my charge were as follows: Brevet-Major E. O. Wheeler, M.C., R.E., Mr. Lalbir Singh Thapa, Surveyors Gujjar Singh and Turubaz Khan, Photographer Abdul Jalil Khan, sixteen khalasis, etc.

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 ¼-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 surreptitiously, 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 ¼-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 latitude 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 Assistant, 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 assemble 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 Pass 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 massive 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 butterfly 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 pass; 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 pass 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 Pass, 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 passport, 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 Pass, 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.

Crossing the Tang La (17,980 feet) in a driving snowstorm, a long march of 22 miles brought us next day to the bleak village of Tulung, in the upper valley of the Po Chu. As we descended the Western side of the pass the snow-clouds gradually dispersed, disclosing glimpses of the magnificent twin summits of Gosainthan (26,290 feet), 30 miles to the West. Several of our coolies succumbed to mountain sickness on the pass, with the result that my bedding and the kitchen box only reached camp at 9 p.m.

On July 15 our road lay for 8 miles along the flat valley of the Po Chu; the river then turns sharply Southwards, passing for 3 miles through a gorge of granite and schist. Bushes of wild currant, gooseberry, berberis and dog-rose here begin to appear, and around the village of Targyeling, where we camped, were smiling fields of mustard and buckwheat, in addition to the usual Tibetan crops of barley and dwarf pea. After a month spent in the bleak Tibetan uplands, it was a relief to pitch our tents in a homely green field, alongside a rippling brook lined with familiar ranunculus, cow parsley, forget-me-not, and a singularly beautiful pale mauve cranesbill, and to feast our eyes on the glorious purple of the wild thyme which clothed the hillsides in great patches of colour.

The next day, still following the course of the Po Chu, we reached Nyenyam, a large and very insanitary village which is known under the name of Kuti by the Nepalis who constitute the majority of its inhabitants. These Nepali traders (Newars) have their own Hindu temple in the village. There is also a Nepalese chauki (court-house) with a haqim (magistrate) invested with summary powers of jurisdiction over Nepali subjects; he is specially charged with the settlement of trade disputes, and with the encouragement of Tibeto-Nepalese trade and commerce.

As is customary in all important districts of Tibet, there are here two Dzongpens, who by a polite fiction are known as “Eastern” and “Western” (Dzongshar and Dzongnup) respectively. Actually, the functions of the two Dzongpens are identical; the raison d'être of the double regime being an attempt to protect the peasants from extortion by the device of providing two administrators, who, in theory at least, act as a check upon each other's peculations. At the time of our arrival, those two worthies were so busy preparing a joint picnic that we had considerable difficulty in getting their attention.

I spent three days in exploring the neighbourhood of Nyenyam, while Wollaston was engaged in his botanical and zoological pursuits. Gujjar Singh, with the plane-table, was detained by bad weather higher up the valley. Below Nyenyam the river enters a very deep, narrow gorge; pines and other forest trees begin to appear. The road, which here becomes impassable for animals, crosses the river four times in 6 miles by cantilever bridges before reaching the village of Choksum, but I could find no trace of the portion described by explorer Hari Ram in 1871 as consisting of slabs of stone 9 to 18 inches wide supported on iron pegs let into the vertical face of the rock at a height of 1,500 feet above the river. At Choksum (10,500 feet) the river falls at an average rate of 500 feet per mile. The Nepal frontier is crossed near Dram village, some 10 miles further down stream, but owing to the vile state of the weather, which rendered even the roughest attempts at surveying impossible, I abandoned all idea of reaching the spot.

On July 20 we retraced our steps 9 miles up the valley to Tashishong, where we found Dr. Heron encamped, together with Gujjar Singh, whose work had been hung up for a week by continued cloud and rainfall. Heron returned Northwards next day, while we followed a rough easterly track leading over the Lapche Range to the village of the same name in the valley of the Kang Chu. The weather on this day was atrocious, and our last pretence of accurate surveying broke down. We were unable to reach Lapche village by dusk, and spent a somewhat cheerless night on boulders in drenching rain at 14,600 feet, with no fuel except a few green twigs of dwarf rhododendron.

Lapche (La-Rimpoche, “precious hill”) is sacred as the home and birthplace of Jetsun Mila Repa, a wandering lama and saint who lived in Southern Tibet in the eleventh century, and who taught by parables and songs, some of which have considerable literary merit. The two principal works ascribed to him are an autobiography, or namtar, and a collection of tracts called Labum, or the “myriad songs.” They are still among the most popular books in Tibet.[20] His hermit-cell still remains under a rock on the hillside, and his memory is preserved by an ancient temple and monastery, the resort of numerous pilgrims, alongside which we pitched our tents.

Lapche village is situated on a spur overlooking the junction of two branches of the Kang stream—the latter being a tributary of the Rongshar River, which, in turn, joins the Bhotia Kosi River in Nepal. The extreme dampness of the local climate is indicated by the trailing streamers of lichen which festoon the trees, and by the pent roofs of the buildings. The village contains some ten or twelve houses, of which half are occupied by Tibetans and half by Nepalese subjects (Sherpas)—each community having its own headman. The inhabitants were very friendly and pleasant, and gave us a good deal of information. The village is deserted during the winter months, when the whole population migrates across the border into Nepal. The Tibetans pay no taxes to Nepal during their half-yearly sojourn in the lower valley; conversely, the Nepalis during their summer residence in Lapche are not subject to Tibetan taxation or to the imposition of ulag (forced labour). The Tibetans of Lapche pay their taxes in the form of butter direct to the Lapche monastery, the head lama, or abbot, of which resides at Phuto Gompa near Nyenyam. The Nepal frontier is some 10 miles below Lapche, opposite the snow-peak of Karro Pumri. Katmandu can be reached in eight days, but the track is bad and very little trade passes this way.

Transport arrangements necessitated a day's halt at Lapche, which was fortunately enlivened by the timely arrival of a large parcel of letters and newspapers, which Colonel Bury had thoughtfully sent after us from Tingri—almost the last news of the outside world which we were to receive for over two months.

From Lapche we proceeded to the Rongshar Valley, crossing the Kangchen and Kangchung (“big snow” and “little snow”) passes. Descending the hill to Trintang village, where we camped on July 25, the clouds lifted momentarily, disclosing an amazing view of the superb snow summit of Gauri-Sankar towering magnificently above us just across the valley. This mountain, which is called by the Tibetans Chomo Tsering, or Trashi Tsering, is the westernmost of a group of five very sacred peaks known collectively as Tsering Tse-nga (“Tsering five peaks”). Unfortunately, owing to constant clouds, I was unable to identify with certainty the remaining four peaks of Tingki Shalzang, Miyo Lobzang, Chopen Drinzang and Tekar Drozang. Owing to the sacred nature of the Rongshar Valley, the slaughtering of animals is strictly forbidden; the large flocks and herds of the villagers are only sold for slaughter in the adjoining districts of Tingri and Nepal, and we were only able to buy a sheep on promising not to kill it until after quitting the valley.

Trintang village occupies a plateau 1,750 feet above the level of the river; 1,400 feet below is the village of Tropde, to which the Trintang residents all descend in winter. Rongshar Dzong, which is situated in the lower village, has no importance; at the time of our visit the Dzongpen had gone to his home on leave of absence, leaving his affairs in the hands of a steward.

A day's halt being necessary in order to collect transport, I took the opportunity of descending the Rongshar Valley as far as the Nepal frontier, while Gujjar Singh endeavoured, without much success, to pick up the threads of his survey by identifying the snowy peaks which occasionally afforded brief glimpses through rifts in the clouds. The Rongshar River drops 1,400 feet in 7 miles between Tropde and the Nepal frontier, which is crossed at an altitude of roughly 9,000 feet.

On July 27 we marched 20 miles up the Rongshar Valley to the village of Tazang (Takpa-Santsam, “limit of birch trees”), which, as its name implies, is situated at the extreme upper limit of the forest zone. On the way we passed the village and monastery of Chuphar, whence a track leads South-east over the difficult snow-pass of Menlung (“vale of medicinal herbs”) to the villages of Rowaling and Tangpa in the Kangphu Valley of Nepal.

Tazang had already been visited by Colonel Bury, a month previously. The local headman was too drunk, on the evening of our arrival, to send out the necessary messages summoning the village transport-yaks from their grazing grounds. In consequence, our baggage was only got under weigh at 11 a.m. next morning, and we were compelled to pitch our tents at a grazing camp (16,500 feet) after only covering 9 miles. The weather showed signs of improvement in proportion as we receded from the Himalayan gorges, but dense banks of cloud still obscured all the hill-tops. An easy march over the Phuse La (17,850 feet) brought us on the 29th to the bleak village of Kyetrak, situated at the foot of the great Kyetrak Glacier, on the extreme Southern edge of the Tingri plain—an area which we had already surveyed six weeks previously.

From Kyetrak we proceeded via the Lamna La to Chöbuk, thence following the tracks of the Expedition headquarters which Colonel Bury had just transferred from Tingri to Kharta in the lower Bhong Chu Valley. On reaching headquarters on August 2, we found Colonel Bury in sole occupation—Mallory and Bullock having left that very morning on a reconnaissance of the Eastern approaches to Mount Everest.

The weather during the whole of August was such as to render out-of-door survey operations impossible. Gujjar Singh was occupied during the month in adjusting and inking his surveys, while I filled in several days in making tracings of all work so far completed, after which, for the remainder of the season, I joined the mountaineers, whose doings are recorded elsewhere in this book.

On the return journey in October I despatched Gujjar Singh from Gyangkar Nangpa to complete the remaining portions of the Sikkim revision-survey; at the same spot I picked up Lalbir Singh, who, after completing his survey of the Pharuk and Kharta areas, had crossed the Bhong Chu below Lungdö and worked his way back via Tashirakar and Sar. Travelling via Kampa and Lachen Valley, we reached Darjeeling on October 16. Tracings of the new survey were hastily finished and sent to press, with the result that a complete preliminary ¼-inch map in six colours was published before the last members of the Expedition had sailed for England. A ½-inch preliminary sketch-map of the environs of Mount Everest was also prepared by Major Wheeler at the same time for the use of the mountaineers in discussing the details of their next year's climb.

The out-turn of work during the Expedition was as follows:—

The surveyors all worked splendidly under difficult and trying conditions. Major Wheeler had probably the hardest time of any member of the Expedition, and his success in achieving single-handed the mapping of 600 square miles of some of the most mountainous country in the world is sufficient proof of his determination and grit. It is difficult for those who have not actually had the experience to conceive the degree of mental and physical discomfort which results to the surveyor from prolonged camping at high altitudes during the monsoon, waiting for the fine day which never comes. Such was our fate for four months during the Expedition of 1921, yet on looking back one feels that the results were well worth while. The discomforts soon fade from recollection; the pleasures alone remain in one's memory, and there is not one of us but would gladly repeat our season's experiences, if so required.

APPENDIX II

THE PHOTOGRAPHIC SURVEY

By Major E. O. WHEELER, M.C.

I had purchased a set of photo-topographical surveying instruments of the Canadian pattern, on behalf of the Survey of India, while on leave in 1920. A trial of this method of surveying mountainous country was to be carried out in Garhwal in 1921; but when Survey of India officers were asked for to accompany the Mount Everest Expedition, I was detailed to carry out the trial there. Possibly a word of explanation of the method used may not be amiss.

The “Canadian” method—if I may call it so; for although it was invented and has been used elsewhere, it has been far more extensively applied in Canada than in any other part of the world—may be briefly described as “plane-tabling by photography.” It requires, equally with the plane-table, an accurate framework, on which to base the detailed survey; and simply substitutes a small (3-inch vernier) theodolite and camera for the sight-rule and plane-table. Stations are fixed and photographs oriented by means of the theodolite; the photographs, which are taken so as to be as nearly as possible true perspectives, represent the country as it would be seen by the plane-tabler, and detail on them may be fixed by intersections or sketched in by eye in exactly the same way as on the plane-table.

Angles are read and photographs taken in the field; and, if considered necessary to test exposures or protect photographic plates from deterioration due to climatic conditions, development of plates is also carried out there. Otherwise, the map is made wholly in the office, using either contact prints or enlargements, from the negatives taken in the field. The latter are usually preferable. The main advantages at high altitudes over the plane-table are, that a much larger area can be covered in a given time in the field, that the instruments are more portable for difficult climbing, that there is no necessity to do accurate drawing with numbed fingers, and that the draughtsman may see the country from several points of view at one time. On the other hand, more equipment is necessary, and—a great disadvantage sometimes, as in this case—the map does not come into being as one goes along.

After carrying out various preliminary adjustments and tests at the office of the Trigonometrical Survey at Dehra Dun, I reached Darjeeling on April 30, and Tingri on June 19, travelling with Expedition Headquarters via Phāri Dzong.

En route Tingri, we had caught glimpses of Everest and the neighbouring peaks; so that by the time we arrived there, I was able, with the help of the existing maps and what local information we had obtained, to decide on the area I would attempt to survey. I say “attempt,” for little was really known then about the geography, and still less about the weather conditions throughout the summer. As it turned out in the end, the area had to be much curtailed, and certain parts surveyed in considerably less detail than I should have liked: almost wholly on account of the weather. Although it was often fairly clear at 6 a.m. or so, photographs taken before 8, particularly at the latter end of the season, were of little use for surveying purposes.

However, at the outset, I had hoped to map, on the scale of 1 inch = 1 mile, the whole area between the Arun Gorge on the East and the Rā Chu on the West: and from the Nepāl-Tibet boundary Northwards for some 20 miles; i.e. to the point where the various streams, flowing in a Northerly direction from the high boundary ridge, issue from the mountains proper into the more rolling foot-hills on the Southern outskirts of the Tibetan Plateau. This area includes Mount Everest itself near the centre of its Southern side, Makālu and Pk. 25,413 to the South-east, Pks. 23,800 (Khārtaphu), 23,420, and 23,080 to the North-east and North, and Pks. 25,990 (Gyāchung Kang), 25,202, 25,909 and 26,867 (Cho Oyu) to the North-west; and comprises some 1,000 square miles of country: a suitable season's work, given reasonably fine weather. This unfortunately we did not get.

On June 24, the day after Messrs. Mallory and Bullock had started for the Rongbuk Valley, Dr. Heron and I marched South across the plain to the village of Sharto, en route Kyetrāk, in the Rā Chu Valley, where I intended to establish my base camp while surveying the Kyetrāk Glacier and West face of the Cho Oyu—Gyachung Kāng group. The next day we moved on to Kyetrāk, 1 mile below the snout of the glacier, and made camp there. This bleak village and the route to it and over the Phüse La have already been described.

June 26 was fine, so after crossing the Rā Chu on local ponies, ourselves and our ice-axes and rucksacks perched on Tibetan saddles—a cold and uncomfortable proceeding in the early morning—we ascended the 18,000-foot hill immediately West of the village. Up to 1 p.m. we had excellent views across and up the Kyetrāk Valley; but only a glimpse of Gauri Sankar (Chomo Tsering) to the South-west, where heavy clouds soon began to roll up. Cho Oyu and Pk. 25,909 and their spurs unfortunately cut out all distant views to the South-east, as they did everywhere in the upper part of this valley; so that my first view of Everest was from Tingri a month later. Next day, we started shortly after daylight for a spur on the East side of the valley; unfortunately—and this happened in the case of almost every peak I started for until mid-September—clouds began to roll up, and we were forced to stop to take the photographs before we had reached a really good view-point.

Colonel Bury arrived at Kyetrāk shortly after we got back to camp. On the 28th he and Heron started off early for a flying visit to the Kyetrāk Glacier and Nangba La; I started later, after getting kit together, for a camp half-way up the glacier, and about 6 miles from Kyetrāk. About 2 p.m. I found a comparatively dry spot on shale at 18,000 feet, and pitched my tents there, the last of the coolies arriving only at 6 p.m. The place was bleak enough, but was as far as I could get that day, and seemed suitable for two climbs—one on either side of the glacier.

My equipment consisted of the camera, theodolite, and a small plane-table—to help in identifying triangulated points—by way of instruments, which were carried by three coolies who remained with me. Ten other coolies slept at the base camp at Kyetrāk, and carried stores up to me or moved the camp, as required; the camp consisted of a Whymper tent for the three coolies and a Meade for myself; bedding, food, a Primus stove and tin of kerosene for my own cooking, and yak dung fuel for the coolies. My servant remained at the base camp and sent up cooked meat and vegetables; otherwise I cooked for myself.

June 29 and 30 were useless days; but on July 1 the weather cleared a bit, and after crossing the glacier, I went up a sharp rock shoulder of Cho Rapzang. The peak was mainly loose granite blocks at a steep angle, so that progress was slow: it was noon when I reached the top (about 19,500 feet), and as I did so the clouds settled down, and it began to snow. However, at 4 p.m. it cleared sufficiently for some work to be done; after that we came down as quickly as possible in another blinding snowstorm, and reached camp just after dark; I for one very tired. I found the coolies exceedingly slow in coming down the loose blocks, I think because their balance was bad—they had to use their hands far more than I did.

I had a good view of the glacier from here: the East side is very steep and broken, with several tributary glaciers flowing down from Cho Oyu and Pk. 25,909, and from a 23,000-foot Peak (not triangulated) to the North of the latter. The West side, except for Cho Rapzang, round which the glacier flows, is a snowfield falling more or less gently from a low ridge running from the pass to the West of Cho Rapzang. The glacier itself is like many others in this region, moraine covered for 3 or 4 miles above its snout, “pinnacled” for another mile, and finally practically flat. But this flat portion gives by no means good going; when frozen it is very irregular and trying to walk over; and when thawed, is slushy and water soaked. There are two large water channels in the ice which are unpleasant to cross; these are from 10 to 15 feet wide and 20 feet deep, and carry a large volume of water in the afternoon. Crossing without a rope is distinctly dangerous, for although one can find places easy enough to jump, a slip would be certain death, for once in the channel it would be quite impossible to get out, or even to stop oneself on its smooth ice floor and sides.

Cloudy weather then set in; but on the 3rd I got a few photographs from a shoulder near by, and moved camp 2 or 3 miles farther up the glacier (at about 18,500 feet). I was in this camp for nine days and only succeeded in taking two low stations, one on either side of the glacier and each about 1½ miles from the pass (Nangba La) to Nepāl; but the valley on the South side, leading down to Khungphu, turns sharply to the East just below the pass, and little could be seen of the Nepalese side. Each of these stations I went up twice—to wait all day long the first time, in each case, for weather which never came. To reach the station on the East side of the glacier I had the only comparatively difficult rock climbing which I met with during the course of the Expedition; and on the way down watched my theodolite coolie, whom I had left behind exhausted in the morning, tumble off a steep rock arête, theodolite and all; fortunately he jammed in a crack a few feet below, and was unhurt. During the day he had started up after us on his own, and had lost his way in the clouds.

On July 12—another wet day—I moved camp some distance down the main glacier and up a tributary flowing from Pk. 25,909 and Cho Oyu, and next day ascended a shoulder whence a good view into the cirque below these two peaks was obtained—or should have been obtained! But again I sat till dusk and saw little or nothing. Early the following day, however, it was fairly clear, so I got my photographs and then moved camp back to the base at Kyetrāk.

The next three days were spent in moving my base camp to the bridge across the Rā Chu, 6 miles below Kyetrāk; taking a light camp up to about 18,000 feet on the prominent hill immediately East of the bridge, climbing the latter, sitting through the usual storms without doing any work, and returning to the bridge. Time was getting on, and the weather was still bad, so I then decided to leave my camp at the bridge and move into Headquarters myself to get developing, etc., up to date, and have a short rest. I walked into Tingri, with two coolies, on July 18, and found Colonel Bury there alone: and the Headquarters house felt very comfortable indeed after a Meade tent, in spite of nightly pilgrimages from one dry spot to another, as the roof leaked!

Five busy days were spent at Tingri developing and printing; and as the weather showed little sign of improvement, I decided to go on with Headquarters to Chöbuk, in the Rongbuk Valley and work on that side, so as to make sure of completing the most important part, in the vicinity of Everest, and return to the Kyetrāk Valley if there should be time. So on the 24th Colonel Bury and I left Tingri and reached Chöbuk on the 25th, where we met Mallory and Bullock, just in from their reconnaissance of the North and North-west sides of Everest. A talk with them gave me some idea of the country, and the view from an 18,000-foot hill above Chöbuk enabled me to make a plan of campaign: far more extensive, as always, than the weather eventually allowed.

Colonel Bury, Mallory and Bullock had gone on to Khārta on July 26; on the 27th I moved up the right bank of the Rongbuk Valley some 10 miles, to the monastery, above which I took a 20,000-foot station the next day. The weather was dreadful, but at 6 p.m. I got a round of photographs, which really turned out very well considering the time of day at which they were taken: it took me four and a half hours to get up this peak—fresh snow and scree—and although I had no glissades, only half an hour to come down.

On the 27th I moved camp to a grassy hollow near the snout of the glacier—Mallory and Bullock's base—and next day occupied another hill overlooking the main glacier and valley, and looking up the side valley on the East, which joins the Dzākar Chu just below the glacier snout. The next three days were spent in establishing a light camp on the left bank of the East branch of the Rongbuk Glacier, about 3 miles from its snout, and taking a station on its left bank to overlook both the East and main glaciers.

The Rongbuk Glacier is made up of two large branches, one flowing from the snow basin immediately below the great North wall of Everest, and the other, the “West Rongbuk” which joins the main stream about 4 miles above the snout of the glacier, flowing East in the basin between the high North-west ridge of Everest and the South-east slopes of Pk. 25,990 (Gyāchung Kang). At one time there was a third branch, the “East Rongbuk,” which must have also joined the main stream, but this has receded until its snout is now a mile or more East of the main glacier, and only its torrent pours into a large cave in the latter. The East Rongbuk itself consists of two branches: one, the more southerly, flows from the great snow basin (which we eventually crossed to reach the North Col) between Everest, its North Peak and Col, and Pk. 23,800 (Khārtaphu); and the other, which joins the South branch about 2 miles from its snout, from between Pks. 23,800 and 23,420. The former gives a 20,000-foot pass, very steep on the South side, to the Kāma Valley; and the latter, an easy pass of about the same height to the head of one branch of the Khārta Valley.

I camped, at about 19,500 feet, on the moraine-covered glacier opposite the junction of the northerly branch from Pks. 23,800 and 23,420. On the way up I followed the watercourse between the ice of the Main Rongbuk Glacier and the scree and conglomerate slopes to the East of it, as far as the mouth of the East Rongbuk stream (3 miles), which gave good though boulder-strewn going. Thence a short scramble up “cut-bank” on the right bank of the East Rongbuk stream to the shelf of an old lateral moraine of that glacier, and along the latter—excellent going—to near its snout. The stream is pretty big in the evening; but quite easy to cross—except for iced rocks—in the early morning: and from there I followed up a series of lateral moraines on the left bank, to my camp. It was not till I was coming down that I discovered that the moraine-covered glacier itself—here covered with shale instead of boulders and scree as in the case of the main glacier—gave comfortable walking.

A little distance below my camp site, the moraine-covered snout gives place to pinnacled ice, divided into three sections by two broad, shaly medial moraines. Either of the latter would be very suitable for a camp, and would give an excellent route to our 21,500-foot camp below the Chang La. The latter might, I think, be reached by this route in three days from the base camp at the snout of the main glacier, camping the first night at 19,000 feet at the start of the medial moraine, the second at 20,000 feet on the medial moraine some 2 miles above the junction of the Northern and Southern branches of the East Rongbuk, and the third night on snow at 21,500 feet below the North Col. The better moraine to ascend would require reconnaissance; for the pinnacles between them are difficult and slow to cross. The valley sides are steep in the lower reaches of the glacier, but more shaly and gentle on both branches, above their junction.

August 3 broke clear; and I started up a likely looking peak behind (South of) camp, which appeared to be on the ridge between the East and main glaciers. I afterwards found that this was not the case; at the time I had to stop on a lower point as the clouds settled down. From here I had a glimpse of a big peak—Makālu, I thought—over the pass at the head of the southerly branch of the glacier: and this gave me the idea that there must be a comparatively low pass from here to the Kāma Valley. But clouds prevented me seeing more and studying the topography more carefully. There were heavy snowstorms on August 4 and 5, but the 6th looked better, and after four hours' most strenuous step-cutting up and slithering down pinnacles, I crossed the glacier and ascended a 21,000-foot station on the other side, from which I obtained good, if cloudy, views of the East Rongbuk Glacier. Snow in the night and a dull morning made me decide to abandon this area—I could get my camp no farther up owing to having insufficient warm clothes to camp all my coolies at this height—and I returned to the base camp, preparatory to tackling the West side of the Rongbuk Valley. Six hours' easy going took me to my base camp.

After two days' rest and office work, I crossed the glacier and put a light camp at about 19,000 feet in a small hanging valley below the “Finger,” a black rock gendarme which is a very prominent landmark on the left bank of the Rongbuk Valley. On August 11 it snowed heavily, and I found my bed, in which I spent the day, very hard indeed—the camp being pitched on large boulders on top of the moraine. On the 12th, 13th, and 14th, I started for the “Finger,” the first time by the ridge immediately above camp, which gave some nice climbing with the rocks partly snow covered as they were, and the other two days, by a much quicker but less interesting route up soft snow and scree. Each day the clouds came down, and although I waited till nearly dark at about 20,500 feet on the ridge, it was not till the third day that I got a round of indifferent photographs.

Time was getting on, so on the 15th I called my “Finger” station “good enough” and moved camp up the left bank of the main glacier to a point on the old lateral moraine, opposite the entrance of the stream from the East Rongbuk; and the next day round the corner to the West, some distance up the West Rongbuk Glacier, and about 1,000 feet above it. En route, I tried to get some photographs from the high moraine at the junction of the West with the main glacier; but again the weather defeated me, and I got into camp—another uncomfortable one—soaked to the skin.

I was in this camp for five days; most of them spent huddled under rocks waiting for the clouds to lift. I had one beautiful day, my only one in six weeks, and got some very nice photographs of Mount Everest and its West ridge. It is surprising how a little good weather and the feeling of having really done some work affects one's spirits!

On August 21 I moved back to my base camp at the glacier snout, again trying for a station at the corner—and failing. I had not done nearly as much as I wanted to do; but there seemed to be no end to the bad weather, and only a month or a bit more remained in which to map the whole of the East side of the mountain: and I had heard from Colonel Bury that there would be a considerable amount of work on that side. Originally, I had hoped not only to return to the bridge over the Rā Chu to complete the work in the Kyetrāk Valley, but also to take several stations in the valleys running North from the 23,000-foot group North of Everest. But again apart from shortage of time, the weather made it out of the question, and I went through to Khārta, via the Doya La, arriving there on August 27.

The change in scenery immediately one crosses the Doya La is most marked, both as regards rock and vegetation. The former—mostly gneiss—is far more rugged and interesting, and there is infinitely more of the latter. The Headquarters camp at Khārta, in a little poplar grove, was pleasant indeed after the bleak, uninteresting Rongbuk Valley; and I thoroughly enjoyed my five days there, developing and printing; busy days, but very different from lying on one's back on the sharp boulders of the Rongbuk moraines. Mallory, Bullock and Morshead were in Khārta when I arrived; Colonel Bury and Wollaston returned from their excursion to the Popti La soon after, and Raeburn arrived on September 1. It was a great treat to me to be able to “swap lies” with so many people, after two months almost wholly alone!

On September 3 Morshead and I started up the Khārta Chu in the wake of Mallory and Bullock, who had gone up to get the “bundobust” for the final fling going. As usual, bad weather dogged my footsteps, and although the weather while I was in Khārta had been glorious, Morshead and I spent seven days in taking two very indifferent stations in the lower part of the Khārta Valley, before joining the remainder of the expedition at the “Advanced Base” on September 11. A further eight days were spent there, waiting for the weather; but in that time I was able to get two very useful stations, one on either side of the valley.

On September 19 I moved up to “No. 1 Camp” with Mallory, Bullock and Morshead; and shared the fortunes of the rest of the Expedition as far as Kampa Dzong on the way back to Darjeeling, where Raeburn, Heron and I left Headquarters to return to Darjeeling via Lāchen and the Teesta Valley. I was delighted to get into the “final push,” and enjoyed the few days' change from surveying to climbing, enormously; except that I felt the cold very much in my feet, and had it not been for Mallory's good offices—he rubbed my feet for a solid hour after we came down from Chang La—I feel sure that the result might have been much more serious than the slight discomfort I afterwards experienced.

I took three stations in the neighbourhood of No. 1 Camp—one on either side of the Khārta Glacier, and one at 22,300 feet on the “Lhakpa La.” This was on snow, with my instrument resting on, and steadied by, bags of “tsampa”; which proved to be a most excellent substitute for rock!

On September 26 I crossed with Colonel Bury and Wollaston to the Kāma Valley; unfortunately, we only had two clear days there, and I had to leave it without covering as much ground as I should have liked, though—as usual—I spent my days in snowstorms, hoping for breaks in the clouds.

The return to Darjeeling via the Serpo La, Lāchen, and the Teesta Valley, made a pleasant change from the Phāri route; but again bad weather spoiled our views, and we saw nothing at all of Kanchenjunga and its neighbours. Raeburn went in by the usual road via Gangtok; Heron and I followed the river—an excellent route in spite of the prevalence of leeches—and reached Pashok on October 19. Heron went on to Darjeeling, a further 18 miles, the same day. I followed on the 20th.

I enjoyed the Expedition and my work with it, thoroughly; but in my opinion, Tibet, at any rate that portion of it in which we were, is a place to have been, rather than one to go to!

APPENDIX III

A NOTE ON THE GEOLOGICAL RESULTS OF THE EXPEDITION

By A. M. HERON, D.Sc., F.G.S., Geological Survey of India.

The area geologically examined is somewhat over 8,000 square miles, comprising the Tibetan portion of the Arun drainage area, with, in the West, the headwaters of the Bhotia Kosi and its tributaries.

The circumstances of the Expedition were not favourable for work in any detail, but an endeavour was made to traverse and map as large an area as possible on a scale of ¼-inch to the mile, on skeleton maps very kindly furnished by Major Morshead and his surveyors as their plane-tabling proceeded; my work must therefore be considered as a geological reconnaissance pure and simple.

If I am accorded the privilege of accompanying the second Expedition, by which time Major Wheeler's map on a scale of 1-inch to the mile will be available, I hope to be able to make a detailed survey of the vicinity of Mount Everest and investigate the complicated inter-relationships of the metamorphosed sedimentaries and the associated gneisses and granites.

My survey continues to the Westward Sir Henry Hayden's work during the Tibet Expedition in 1903–4.

Geologically this area is divided into two broad divisions: (a) Tibetan and sedimentary, (b) Himalayan and crystalline, a distinction which is clearly displayed in the topography resulting from the underlying geological structure, for to the North we have the somewhat tame and lumpy mountains of Tibet contrasting with the higher, steeper and more rugged Himalayas on the South.

The Tibetan zone consists of an intensely folded succession of shales and limestones, with subordinate sandstone quartzites, the folds striking East-West and mainly lying over towards the South, showing that the movements which produced them came from the North.

The uppermost rocks consist of the Kampa system of Hayden, a great thickness of limestones, which, where the rocks have escaped alteration, yield an assemblage of fossils which determine their age as Cretaceous and Eocene.

Below these is a monotonous succession of shales, practically unfossiliferous, with occasional quartzites and limestones representing the Upper and Middle Jurassic with at the base beds probably belonging to the Lias.

These Jurassic shales are by far the most conspicuous formation in this part of Tibet, being repeated many times in complicated folds.

The Cretaceous-Eocene limestones form comparatively narrow bands, occurring as compressed synclines caught up in the folded complex of Jurassic shales.

Along the Southern border of the Tibetan zone, below the base of the Jurassic shales, is a great thickness (2,000 feet–3,000 feet) of thinly bedded limestones in which the fossils have been destroyed and the rocks themselves converted over considerable areas into crystalline limestones and calc-gneisses containing tremolite, epidote, tourmaline, etc., but still retaining their original bedded structure in the banding of the altered rock.

The absence of determinable fossils makes it impossible to determine the age of these with certainty, but from their lithological character and position in the sequence, it is possible that they correspond with the Tso Lhamo limestone in Sikkim (Lias) and the Kioto limestone of the Zangskar range (Lower Jurassic and Upper Trias).

The Himalayan and crystalline zone is essentially composed of foliated and banded biotite-gneiss, usually garnetiferous, on which lie, at comparatively low angles and with a general Northerly dip, the above-mentioned calc-gneisses.

These occur most abundantly to the North and West of Everest, in the Keprak, Rongbu, Hlalung and Rebu Valleys. The group of high peaks to the North-west of Everest (overlooking the Khombu Pass) is made up of these and intrusive schorl granite, and it would seem that the precipitous North-western face and spurs of Everest are the same.

The Eastern and North-eastern valleys, Chongphu, Kharta and Kama, which are in general at a lower level than the North-western valleys, are excavated in the biotite-gneiss. On the North-eastern face of Everest fresh snow was too abundant at the time of my visit to make out what the rocks were.

Associated with the limestones and calc-gneisses are quartzites and tourmaline-biotite schists which probably represent the lowest portions of the shales immediately overlying the limestones.

It is probable that the biotite-gneiss is an igneous rock intrusive in the calc-gneisses and schists, but this and many other puzzling features of the crystallines require more detailed study than I was able to give this year.

Both biotite-gneiss and metamorphosed sedimentaries are crowded with dykes and sills, of all dimensions, of schorl granite or pegmatite to such an extent that this granite is frequently the predominant rock. It is highly resistant to weathering and it is doubtless due to its presence in large amount that such comparatively soft rocks as the calc-gneisses take part in forming some of the highest summits.

In the same way the scattered peaks of over 20,000 feet on the watershed between the Arun and the Tsangpo owe their prominence to their being groups of veins of a very similar granite, differing in that it contains biotite in place of schorl. Around these separate centres of intrusion are areoles of metamorphism in which the Jurassic shales have been converted into slates and phyllites.

Economically the area traversed by the Expedition is devoid of interest. Barring a little copper staining on a few boulders on moraines no traces of ore were seen.

APPENDIX IV

THE SCIENTIFIC EQUIPMENT

By A. R. HINKS, F.R.S., Secretary of the Royal Geographical Society.

The most important scientific work of the first year's expedition should have been the study of the physiological effects of high altitude that Dr. Kellas had undertaken, with the support of Professor Haldane, F.R.S., and of the Oxygen Research Committee of the Department of Scientific and Industrial Research. In his work on Kamet in 1920, Dr. Kellas had tried, and provisionally decided against, the use of oxygen compressed in cylinders: but he laboured under the grave disadvantage that the light cylinders he hoped to obtain had been, after his departure for India, pronounced unsafe; and the cylinders sent out were clearly too heavy for effective use in climbing. Dr. Kellas had therefore fallen back on the use of oxygen prepared from the reaction between water and oxylith in an apparatus which included a kind of gas mask. He was prepared also to make several difficult researches into the physiological processes of adaptation to low oxygen pressure; and some delicate apparatus was prepared and sent out to him by the Oxygen Research Committee. Unhappily these interesting and important enquiries came to nought, for there was no one competent to carry them on after his lamented death at Kampa Dzong; and the Expedition of 1922 was thereby deprived of much information that should have been at its disposal in studying the use of oxygen for the grand assault.

The scientific equipment for which the Mount Everest Committee were directly responsible was not ambitious: the Survey of India were responsible for the whole of the survey and brought their own equipment, which is described elsewhere in this book. It was necessary to provide the climbing party only with aneroids, compasses, reserve field-glasses, thermometers and cameras, with subsidiary apparatus for checking the aneroids at the base camps, and heavier cameras for work at lower levels.

The aneroids by Cary, Porter & Co. and by Short & Mason were constructed in pairs, to operate from 15,000 to 23,000, and 22,000 to 30,000 feet respectively. They seem to have performed well on the whole, and tests made at the National Physical Laboratory since their return show that they have changed very little; but it cannot be said that their performances were very effectively controlled in the field, for until late in the season there were no trigonometrical heights available, and the climbers had little opportunity in their rather isolated circumstances of employing their aneroids to the best advantage, for purely differential work. Nor is there much to be said as yet on the value of the shortened form of George mercurial barometer, to come into action only at 15,000 feet (Cary, Porter & Co.). These instruments will find effective use only in the second season, when the reference points of the trigonometrical survey will be available as fundamental data.

The climbers carried “Magnapole” compasses with luminous points, and sometimes a Mark VIII prismatic; these all worked well. The simpler compass is the more convenient for use on snow when goggles must be worn. A luminous liquid compass (Short & Mason) was found very useful on long reconnaissance rides.

For the record of temperatures in camps Messrs. Negretti & Zambra had made three small pairs of maximum and minimum thermometers in leather travelling cases. These suffered some casualties, by theft, or being accidentally left out in the sun; and the pattern has been repeated for the second year's work.

The heavier photographic equipment included an old and well-seasoned 7½ × 5 Hare Camera, lent to the Expedition, but newly fitted by Messrs. Dallmeyer with a Stigmatic lens of 9 inches focal length, a negative telephoto lens of 4 inches focal length giving enlargement up to 6 times, and a set of Wratten filters. With this camera Mr. Wollaston secured some of the finest pictures taken on the Expedition.

There were also two quarter-plate cameras for glass plates: a Sinclair Una camera fitted by Messrs. Dallmeyer with a Stigmatic lens of 5.3 inches focal length, and Adon telephoto lens; and a second Sinclair camera lent by Captain Noel.

One or the other of these two was used by Mr. Mallory at many of the high camps, and both the Hare 7½ × 5 and the Sinclair quarter-plate went to the 22,500-foot camp at the Lhakpa La: doubtless the greatest height yet attained by so large a camera as the former. The principal difficulty with these cameras was unsteadiness in a heavy wind when the telephoto lens was in use: and the tripods have been strengthened and the lens supports stiffened before they go out again.

The plates were of two kinds: Imperial Special Rapid and Fine Grain slow. The latter were generally preferred, and could hardly have been better. The Imperial Dry Plate Company, who generously made and presented these plates to the Expedition, deserve special thanks for their skill and for their generosity.

The cameras which used films were a Panoram Kodak of 5 inches focal length, with films 12 × 4 inches; a No. 1 Autograph Kodak, and two Vest Pocket Kodaks, all three fitted with Cooke lenses by Messrs. Taylor, Taylor & Hobson. The Panoram Kodak was used very successfully by Colonel Howard-Bury, and the splendid series of panoramas is the most useful, if not quite the most beautiful, set of photographs brought home. The smaller cameras were used by the climbing party with many good results.

Finally it must be said that a large part of the best photographs were taken by Colonel Howard-Bury with his own 7 × 5 Kodak, and the results very generously placed at the disposal of the Committee.

All the instruments were examined and tested at the National Physical Laboratory, and the thanks of the Committee are due to the Director and his staff, who gave most valuable advice and assistance.

APPENDIX V

MAMMALS, BIRDS AND PLANTS COLLECTED BY THE EXPEDITION

By A. F. R. WOLLASTON

A.—LIST OF MAMMALS COLLECTED

Stoat. Mustela temon
Stoat. Mustela longstaffi
Marmot. Marmota himalayana
Hamster. Cricetulus alticola tibetanus, subsp. n.
Vole. Phaiomys leucurus
Vole. Phaiomys everesti
Vole. Microtus (Alticola), sp.
Pika. Ochotona roylei nepalensis
Pika. Ochotona wollastoni, sp. n.
Pika. Ochotona curzoniæ

B.—LIST OF BIRDS COLLECTED

Central Asian blackbird. Turdus maxima
Solitary thrush. Monticola solitarius
White-breasted Asiatic dipper. Cinclus cashmirensis
Indian stone-chat. Saxicola torquata indica
Gould's desert chat. Saxicola montana
Bush chat. Pratincola prjevalskii
Indian redstart. Ruticilla rufiventris
Guldenstadt's Afghan redstart. Ruticilla grandis
White-capped redstart. Chimarrhornis leucocephalus
Hodgson's grandala. Grandala cœlicolor
Tickell's willow-warbler. Phylloscopus affinis
Mandelli's willow-warbler. Phylloscopus mandellii
Smoky willow-warbler. Phylloscopus fulviventris
Spotted bush-warbler. Lusciniola thoracica
Prince Henry's laughing thrush. Trochalopterum henrici
Eastern alpine accentor. Accentor rufiliatus
Red-breasted accentor. Accentor rubeculoides
Rufous-breasted accentor. Accentor strophiatus
Brown accentor. Accentor fulvescens
Sikkim black tit. Parus beavani
Wren. Troglodytes, sp.
Hodgson's pied wagtail. Motacilla hodgsoni
White-faced wagtail. Motacilla leucopsis
Yellow-headed wagtail. Motacilla citreola.
Blyth's pipit. Anthus citreola
Indian tree-pipit. Anthus maculatus
Hodgson's pipit. Anthus rosaceus
Grey-backed shrike. Lanius tephronotus
Slaty-blue flycatcher. Cyornis leucomelanurus
Himalayan greenfinch. Hypacanthis spinoides
Tree-sparrow. Passer montanus
Cinnamon tree-sparrow. Passer cinnamomeus
Blanford's snow-finch. Montifringilla blanfordi
Adams' snow-finch. Montifringilla adamsi.
Hodgson's ground-finch. Fringilauda nemoricola
Brandt's ground-linnet. Leucosticte brandti.
Walton's twite. Linota rufostrigata
Red-breasted rose-finch. Pyrrhospiza punicea
Scarlet rose-finch. Carpodacus erythrinus
Hodgson's rose-finch. Carpodacus pulcherrimus
Severtzoff's rose-finch. Carpodacus severtzoi
Prejewalk's rose-finch. Carpodacus rubicilloides
Red-headed bullfinch. Pyrrhula erythrocephala
Godlevski's meadow bunting. Emberiza godlevskii
Elwes' shore-lark. Otocorys elwesi
Long-billed calandra lark. Melanocorpha maxima
Tibetan skylark. Alauda inopinata
Short-toed lark. Calandrella brachydactyla
Brook's short-toed lark. Calandrella acutirostris tibetana
Chough. Pyrrhocorax graculus
Brown ground-chough. Podoces humilis
Common hoopoe. Upupa epops
Pied crested cuckoo. Coccystes jacobinus
Eastern little owl. Athene bactriana
White-backed dove. Columba leuconota
Snow partridge. Lerwa lerwa
Temminck's stint. Tringa temmincki
Redshank. Totanus calidris
Dusky redshank. Totanus fuscus
Greater sand plover. Aegialitis mongola
Common tern. Sterna fluviatilis

In addition to the above the following birds were identified, but specimens of them were not obtained:—

Wall-creeper
House martin
Sand martin
Rock martin
Alpine chough
Magpie
Black crow
Raven
Swift
Siberian swift
Cuckoo
Himalayan vulture
Lämmergeier
Sea eagle
Pallas' sea eagle
Black-eared kite
Barheaded goose
Ruddy sheldrake
Garganey
Wigeon
Pochard
Gadwall
Hill rock-dove
Chinese turtle dove
Tibetan partridge
Tibetan snow partridge
Blood pheasant
Black-necked crane
White stork
Ibis-bill
Painted snipe
Pin-tailed snipe
Brown-headed gull

C.—LIST OF PLANTS COLLECTED BETWEEN JUNE AND SEPTEMBER, 1921, 12,000–20,400 ft.

Clematis orientalis, L.
Ranunculus pulchellus, C. A. Mey., var. sericeus, Hk. f. & T.
Ranunculus pulchellus, C. A. Mey.
Anemone obtusiloba, Don
Anemone polyanthes, Don
Anemone rivularis, Ham.
Geranium Grevilleanum, Wall.
Caltha scaposa, Hk. f. & T.
Delphinium Brunonianum, Royle
Aconitum gymnandrum, Max.
Aconitum orochryseum, Stapf, sp. nov.
Delphinium Pylzowii, Maxim.
Halenia elliptica, Don
Delphinium grandiflorum, L.
Hypecoum leptocarpum, Hk. f. & T.
Meconopsis horridula, Hk. f. & T.
Meconopsis grandis, Prain?
Meconopsis, sp.
Corydalis, sp.
Corydalis juncea, Wall.
Corydalis Moorcroftiana, Wall.
Arabis tibetica, Hk. f. & T.
Lepidium ruderale, L.
Arenaria ciliolata, Edgew.
Dilophia salsa, Hk. f. & T.
Cardamine macrophylla, Willd.
Arenaria Stracheyi, Edgew.
Silene Waltoni, F. N. Williams
Silene Moorcroftiana, Wall.
Arenaria musciformis, Wall.
Arenaria melandrioides, Edgew.
Polygonum islandicum, Hk. f.
Geranium collinum, A. DC.
Impatiens sulcatus, Wall.
Thermopsis barbata, Royle
Thermopsis lanceolata, R. Br.
Sophora Moorcroftiana, Benth.
Stracheya tibetica, Benth.
Astragalus strictus, Grah.
Oxytropis microphylla, DC
Gueldenstædtia uniflora, Benth.
Desmodium nutans, Wall.
Potentilla coriandrifolia, Hk. f.
Potentilla multifida, L.
Potentilla sericea, L.
Potentilla microphylla, Don
Potentilla peduncularis, Don
Potentilla Griffithii, Hk. f.
Spiræa arcuata, Hk. f.
Saxifraga Lychnitis, Hk. f. & T.
Saxifraga nutans, Hk. f. & T.
Saxifraga aristulata, Hk. f.
Saxifraga near S. saginoides, Hk. f. & T.
Saxifraga flagellaris, Willd.
Saxifraga Hirculus, L.
Saxifraga Lychnitis, Hk. f. & T.
Saxifraga fimbriata, Wall.
Saxifraga pilifera, Hk. f. & T.
Saxifraga Caveana, W. W. Sm.
Saxifraga microphylla, Royle
Saxifraga pallida, Wall.
Saxifraga umbellulata, Hk. f. &  T.
Parnassia ovata, Ledeb.
Parnassia pusilla, Wall.
Eutrema Prewalskii, Hk. f. & T.
Sedum fastigiatum, Hk. f. & T.
Sedum trifidum, Wall.
Sedum crenulatum, Hk. f. & T.
Sedum himalense, Don
Epilobium palustre, L.
Epilobium reticulatum, C. B. Cl.
Pleurospermum Hookeri, C. B. Cl.
Scabiosa Hookeri, C. B. Cl.
Valeriana Hardwickii, Wall.
Aster, sp.
Aster heterochætus, C. B. Cl.
Allardia glabra, Dene.
Aster tibeticus, Hk. f.
Cremanthodium Decaisnei, C. B. Cl.
Aster diplostephioides, C. B. Cl.
Erigeron, sp.
Leontopodium fimbrilligerum, J. R. Drum.?
Leontopodium monocephalum, Edgew.
Leontopodium Stracheyi, C. B. Cl.
Anaphalis xylorhiza, Sch. Bip.
Anaphalis cuneifolia, Hook. f.
Tanacetum tibeticum, Hk. f. & T.
Senecio arnicoides, Wall. var. frigida, Hk. f.
Cremanthodium pinnatifidum, Benth.
Chrysanthemum Atkinsoni, C. B. Cl.?
Artemisia Moorcroftiana, Wall.
Sonchus sp.
Senecio glomerata, Decne.
Senecio (§ Ligularia) sp.
Senecio chrysanthemoides, DC.
Tanacetum khartense, Dunn, sp. nov.
Aster sp.
Lactuca macrantha, C. B. Cl.
Senecio sorocephala, Hemsl.
Saussurea gossypina, Wall.
Saussurea tridactyla, Sch. Bip.
Tanacetum gossypinum, Hk. f. & T.
Saussurea wernerioides, Sch. Bip.
Crepis glomerata, Hk. f.?
Saussurea graminifolia, Wall.
Senecio arnicoides, Wall.
Saussurea uniflora, Wall.
Morina polyphylla, Wall.
Saussurea glandulifera, Sch. Bip.
Lactuca Dubyæa, C. B. Cl.
Lactuca Lessertiana, C. B. Cl.
Cassiope fastigiata, D. Don
Daphne retusa, Hemsl.
Rhododendron lepidotum, Wall.
Rhododendron setosum, Don
Rhododendron near R. lepidotum, Wall.
Rhododendron campylocarpum, Hk. f.
Rhododendron cinnabarinum, Hk. f.
Rhododendron lanatum, Hk. f.
Rhododendron arboreum, Sm.
Rhododendron Thomsoni, Hk. f.
Cyananthus incanus, Hk. f. & T.
Glossocomia tenera, DC.
Cyananthus pedunculatus, C. B. Cl.
Campanula modesta, Hk. f. & T.
Campanula colorata, Wall.
Campanula aristata, Wall.
Androsace chamæjasme, Hort., var. coronata, Wall.
Androsace villosa, L. var.?
Androsace strigillosa, Franch.
Primula minutissima, Jacq.
Primula Buryana, Balf. f. sp. nov.
Primula Wollastonii, Balf. f. sp. nov.
Primula pusilla, Wall.
Primula sikkimensis, Hook, microform
Primula capitata, Hook.
Primula capitata, microform.
Primula uniflora, Klatt
Primula Dickieana, Watt.
Primula obliqua, W. W. Sm.
Primula indobella. Balf. f.
Primula minutissima, Jacq.
Primula glabra, Klatt
Primula Younghusbandii, sp. nov.
Primula tibetica, Watt.
Primula denticulata, Sm.
Primula sikkimensis, Hook.
Primula nivalis, Pallas, var. macrocarpa, Pax.
Gentiana amœna, C. B. Cl.
Gentiana ornata, Wall.
Gentiana sp. Probably new but the material is too imperfect to decide this.
Gentiana Elwesii, C. B. Cl.
Gentiana robusta, King
Gentiana micantiformis, Burkill
Gentiana nubigena, Edgew.
Gentiana tubiflora, Wall., var. longiflora, Turrill, var. nov.
Gentiana stellata, Turrill, sp. nov.
Gentiana tenella, Fries
Swertia cuneata, Wall.
Arenaria Stracheyi, Edgew.
Swertia Kingii, Hk. f.
Swertia Younghusbandii, Burkill
Swertia multicaulis, D. Don
Nardostachys grandiflora, DC.
Trigonotis rotundifolia, Benth.
Eritrichium densiflorum, Duthie
Microula sikkimensis, Hemsl.
Onosma Waddellii, Duthie
Onosma Hookeri, C. B. Cl.
Verbascum Thapsus, L.
Lancea tibetica, Hk. f. & T.
Lagotis crassifolia, Prain
Pedicularis trichoglossa, Hk. f.
Pedicularis Elwesii, Hk. f.
Pedicularis megalantha, Don, forma
Pedicularis megalantha, Don, var. pauciflora, Prain
Pedicularis Roylei, Maxim.
Pedicularis siphonantha, Don
Pedicularis cheilanthifolia, Schrank
Pedicularis tubiflora, Fischer
Pedicularis integrifolia, Hk. f.
Pedicularis globifera, Hk. f.
Incarvillea Younghusbandii, Sprague
Escholtzia eriostachya, Benth.
Nardostachys Iatamansi, DC.
Dracocephalum breviflorum, Turrill, sp. nov.
Dracocephalum tanguticum, Maxim.
Dracocephalum heterophyllum, Benth.
Dracocephalum speciosum, Benth.
Veronica lanuginosa, Benth.
Nepeta discolor, Benth.
Nepeta Thomsoni, Benth.
Atriplex rosea, L.
Polygonum vaccinifolium, Wall.
Polygonum viviparum, L.
Polygonum tortuosum, Don
Polygonum affine, Don
Polygonum amphibium, L.
Stellera chamæjasme, L.
Euphorbia Stracheyi, Boiss.
Orchis cylindrostachys, Kränzl.
Liparis sp.
Goodyera fusca, Lindl.
Dendrobium alpestre, Royle
Pleione Hookeriana, S. Moore
Orchis Chusna, Don
Roscoea purpurea, Sm.
Iris nepalensis, Don
Iris goniocarpa, Baker
Iris tenuifolia, Pallas
Lloydia tibetica, Baker
Lloydia sp.
Fritillaria Hookeri, Baker
Fritillaria near F. Stracheyi, Hk. f.
Fritillaria cirrhosa, Don
Allium, sp.
Allium Wallichii, Kunth
Allium Govenianum, Wall.?
Allium cyaneum, Regel
Larix Griffithii, Hk. f.
Dryopteris Linneana, C. Chr.
Dryopteris Filix-mas, var. serrato-dentata, C. Chr.
Cryptogramma Brunoniana, Wall.
Calophaca crassicaulis, Benth.
Glaux maritima, L.
Androsace sessiliflora, Turrill, sp. nov.
Astragalus oreotrophes, W. W. Sm.
Thamnolia vermicularis, Schær.
Stereocaulon alpinus, Laur.
Thelochistes flavicans, Norm.