In every direction except south, and along the ridge to the east, the view from the top of Hattu is very extensive, as it overlooks all the peaks in the immediate vicinity. To the north the mountains of Kulu, which separate the valley of the Sutlej from that of the Beas, and from the upper Chenab, are most beautifully seen, their peaks rising above one another from west to east, till they enter the region of perpetual snow. Towards the plains, in clear weather, the view must be superb; but in that direction there is so generally a hazy state of the atmosphere, that though I have ascended Hattu four times, I have never been fortunate enough to obtain a favourable day.
In looking back from the summit of Hattu towards Simla and the plains, it may be observed that the country is well wooded, though when viewed from Simla or the heights of Mahasu the same mountains had appeared almost bare. This diversity in the aspect of the country, according to the direction from which it is seen, is due to the ridges being well wooded on one face, and bare of trees on the other. The plainward face is never, except under very exceptional circumstances, at all wooded, while the northern and eastern slopes are generally covered with forest. Probably the more direct influence of the sun, and the action of the strong winds which generally blow up the valleys towards the interior of the mountains, act in concurrence in drying the atmosphere, and checking the growth of trees on the southern and western faces of the ridges.
The shrubby and herbaceous vegetation of Hattu is exceedingly luxuriant. The more open glades of the forest are filled with an undergrowth of tall balsams, annual-stemmed Acanthaceæ, Dipsacus, Compositæ (among which the beautiful Calimeris is very abundant), while in the drier pine-forest a graceful little bamboo occurs, often to the exclusion of every other plant. It grows in dense tufts, eight or ten or even twelve feet high, the diameter of the stem not exceeding a quarter of an inch. The currant of the Mahasu ridge is also common, with many of the same shrubs which are there abundant. The ridge close to Nagkanda is much drier, and has fewer peculiar plants; the resemblance to the Simla flora being there very remarkable.
On the southern slopes of this ridge, at elevations equal to that of Nagkanda bungalow, and even higher, in some places as high as 9500 feet, there are considerable patches of cultivation. Barley is probably the spring crop, but during the rains a good deal of buckwheat is cultivated. This plant will not thrive in the very humid regions, and is therefore indicative of a drier climate than that of Simla; indeed, even the occurrence of cultivation at such an elevation, during the rainy season, satisfactorily proves the existence of a more moderate rain-fall and greater warmth than on the peaks nearer the plains, as for instance on the Mahasu ridge, on which, except the potato, no cultivation whatever is attempted during the rains, though there are a few fields of wheat or barley in one spot as high as 8000 feet.
Our missing loads having arrived at Nagkanda on the evening of the 5th of August, we resumed our journey on the morning of the 6th, marching to Kotgarh, ten miles. At Nagkanda we finally left the main range, and began to descend towards the valley of the Sutlej, following, at the commencement of our journey, a spur which runs from immediately west of the bungalow directly towards the river. After about four miles we quitted this spur to descend into the valley on the right, after crossing which we ascended to Kotgarh, situated on a long spur descending from the peak of Hattu. The early part of the descent was very abrupt, through a forest of large pines, principally P. excelsa and spruce (Abies Smithiana). Some trees of the latter measured upwards of seventeen feet in circumference. Sycamore and cherry were also common in the forest, and a good many trees of Corylus lacera, the hazel of the north-west Himalaya, were observed. The trees were festooned with the gigantic vine already noticed in the Mahasu forest. After the first two hundred feet of descent, the forest was less dense, and chiefly pine. Rhododendron arboreum commenced about 1000 feet below Nagkanda, and was soon followed by the holly-leaved oak, and a little lower by Q. incana, the common hoary oak of Simla; and by the time we had got down to 7000 feet, the vegetation was quite similar to that of Simla. At a little below this elevation, the road leaves the crest of the ridge, which may be seen to continue in a northerly direction, partly bare and partly pine-clad, and descends rapidly to the bottom of the deep ravine on the right. Soon after leaving the ridge we entered thick forest, and at the bottom of the ravine two considerable streams are crossed within a very short distance of one another, at an elevation of about 5500 feet, the lowest level to which we descended during the day's journey. Along the banks of these streams, which have a considerable inclination of bed, the forest is very dense and shady. Few of the trees are coniferous, nor do oaks in this part of the Himalaya select such moist localities. Lauraceæ of several kinds, the horse-chesnut, alder, and hornbeam (Carpinus viminea), with Toon and Celtis, are the prevailing trees.
The streams which the road here crosses descend from different parts of the ridge of Nagkanda. They occupy the bottom of deep ravines, and are in their whole course densely wooded. These ravines are, in their upper part especially, extremely steep and rocky, often with precipitous walls, and scarcely practicable even on foot. The denseness of the forest is principally due to their northern exposure, and to the consequent more equable temperature and greater humidity. They contain many trees not previously observed on the journey from Simla, though all of them, I believe even the horse-chesnut, occur in the very similar steep rocky ravines below Fagu. The alder is a common tree at 4-5000 feet in the north-western Himalaya, always in valleys and on the banks of streams.
In this shady forest I collected a considerable number of plants which do not occur at Simla. A scandent Hydrangea, the loosely-adhering bark of which separates in long rolls like that of the birch, and is used as a substitute for paper, was seen twining round the trunks of trees. I observed also a fine Calanthe, and abundance of Adenocaulon, a remarkable genus of Compositæ, which, till Mr. Edgeworth discovered a species in the Himalaya, was only known as a native of South America. In the thickest part of the forest in this ravine, I was also fortunate enough to meet with a few specimens of Balanophora, which here probably attains its western limit. All these plants are abundant forms in the most humid parts of Nepal and Sikkim, and their presence may, I think, be regarded as indicative of a more equable temperature throughout the year than prevails in the more open parts of the Sutlej Himalaya. The range of mountains on which Nagkanda stands certainly intercepts a great deal of moisture during the rainy season, and therefore makes the valleys on its northern aspect less humid at that period of the year. This would appear to be more than counterbalanced by the effect of the dense forest in keeping up moisture and preventing radiation during winter, for the cold and dryness of that season seem to have a much greater effect in determining the cessation of the forms characteristic of the eastern Himalaya, than the diminished rain-fall during the three months of the rainy season.
After crossing the stream at the bottom of the valley, the road advances in a northerly direction, at first gradually ascending through fine shady woods, but afterwards, turning to the right, mounting rapidly by very abrupt zigzags, up a bare dry hill-side, to the Kotgarh ridge. Here we took up our quarters for the night, in a house the property of Captain P. Gerard, a little above the village of Kotgarh, at an elevation of about 7000 feet, in a fine grove of Pinus excelsa.
Kotgarh, a large village, and the seat of an establishment of missionaries, was at one time a military post, and is interesting to the Himalayan traveller, from the fact of the detachment here stationed having been long commanded by one of the brothers Gerard, whose labours in these mountains, geographical and meteorological, are so well known. It has, however, long been abandoned as a military station, the peaceable state of the hill population rendering it unnecessary to keep a garrison in these mountains.
Captain Gerard's house, in which we spent the night, is elevated several hundred feet above the upper part of the village of Kotgarh, which occupies the steep face of the ridge directly overlooking the valley of the Sutlej. One reach of the river is visible from the front of the house, and the deep roar of the rapid stream was distinctly audible, notwithstanding that we were still 4000 feet above it. On the morning of the 7th of August we resumed our journey, descending abruptly through the village of Kotgarh to the Sutlej. At first the pine-forest which surrounded our night quarters, accompanied us down the steep hill-side. It was intermixed with a few scattered deodars; and the shrubby and herbaceous vegetation was in all its features identical with that of Simla. Soon, however, the descent was on a bare hill-side, and after reaching the village, the road, inclining to the right or east, kept nearly level for about a mile, passing through much cultivation, in terraced fields on the slopes. The crops were Kodon (Eleusine Coracana) and a cylindrical-headed Panicum, both grains commonly cultivated in the plains of India. There were also many fields of Amaranthus and Chenopodium. The first of these is occasionally cultivated in all parts of the hills, its bright red inflorescence, in autumn, tinging with flame the bare mountain slopes. The Chenopodium was new to me as a cultivated grain, and is particularly interesting from its analogy with the Quinoa of South America. It is entirely a rain crop, and grows very luxuriantly, rising to a height of six or eight feet, with a perfectly straight stout very succulent green stem, and large deltoid leaves, either pale green or of a reddish tinge, and covered with grey mealiness. The seeds, which are extremely small, are produced in great abundance on all the upper part of the plant, and are ripe in September.
For about a mile after leaving the village of Kotgarh, the descent was trifling, but the remainder of the road to the Sutlej was very steep, so that the change in the vegetation was sudden, commencing just at the point where Quercus incana disappeared; before which few plants indicating heat occurred. The want of wood, no doubt, assisted the rapidity of the change, for the heat soon became considerable. In the course of the descent, I noted all the new forms as they occurred; but the exact order in which each individual species makes its appearance, depends so much upon accidental and unimportant circumstances, and is so likely to be affected by errors of observation, unless many series are obtained in different aspects of the same slope, that it would lead to no advantage to enumerate the species as they were met with. Nearly 1000 feet above the bed of the river, or at an elevation of about 4000 feet, the vegetation had become quite subtropical, species of Mollugo, Polanisia, Corchorus, Leucas, Euphorbia, Microrhynchus, and the ordinary grasses and Cyperaceæ of the plains, being the common weeds. The descent continued very abrupt, the heat increasing rapidly, till the road reached the bank of the Sutlej, at the village of Kepu, which occupies a flat piece of land overhanging the river.
Having commenced our day's journey before daybreak, in order to complete the march before the extreme heat had commenced, we stopped here to breakfast, under the shade of a fine mango-tree. The neighbourhood of the village was well cultivated, with extensive rice-fields and a fine grove of tropical trees—mango, Ficus Indica and religiosa, Melia Azedarach and Azadirachta, Grewia, oranges, and plantains. Our late residence in a cool climate made us feel the heat much, though the temperature at nine in the morning was not much more than 80°. After breakfast, we continued our journey up the valley, to Nirt or Nirat, a distance of six or seven miles, and next day we reached Rampur, the capital of Basehir, twelve miles further, and still in the Sutlej valley.
The district of Basehir is an independent hill state, governed by a rajah, whose dominion also extends over Kunawar; it commences a very little north of Kotgarh, and occupies the south side of the river Sutlej and the mountain slopes above it, as far east as the confines of Kunawar. The valley of the Sutlej, in the western part of Basehir, from Rampur downwards, has an elevation of little more than 3000 feet, Rampur (140 feet above the bed of the river) being 3400 feet above the level of the sea[4]. The river, at the season of our journey, which was the height of the rains, at which time it is at its largest, is an impetuous torrent, of great size, but very variable in breadth, foaming along over a stony bed, with generally very precipitous rocky banks, and filled with large boulders. During the rainy season it is extremely muddy, almost milky, and deposits in tranquil parts of its course a considerable amount of white mud. The valley is generally very narrow, with steep bare hills on either side, quite devoid of trees and covered only with a few scattered bushes and long coarse grass. In the bays or recesses on the mountain-sides, between the terminations of the rocky spurs which descend to the river, the valley is often filled with a hard conglomerate rock, the cement of which is calcareous, evidently (geologically) of very recent origin. These patches of conglomerate are flat-topped, and often scarped towards the river, and are frequently 200 feet and more in thickness. They differ in degree of consolidation only from ordinary alluvial deposit, so that they appear to owe their preservation from the denuding effects of river action, to the calcareous matter, which has cemented the pebbles and sand into a solid rock.
The road follows throughout the course of the river, rising sometimes 200-300 feet, to pass over rocky spurs; at other times it lies on the surface of the boulder conglomerate, and more rarely close to the river. Here and there is a small village, with a few rice-fields, but the greater part of the valley is utterly sterile. Like the valleys of the outer Himalaya, that of the Sutlej here exhibits a curious mixture of the ordinary vegetation of the plains, with forms which point out the mountainous nature of the country. The whole flora is strongly characteristic of a dry soil and an arid climate. The mountain ranges to the west and south, no doubt, intercept a good deal of rain; and the lofty mountains, 10-12,000 feet in height, which, on the right and left, rise rapidly from the river, appropriate to themselves a great part of the moisture which reaches the valley. We may, therefore, in the absence of direct meteorological observations, infer, from the physical structure of the valley, and from the nature of its vegetation, that its climate is drier than that of the valleys at the base of the Himalaya.
The Sutlej valley cannot, of course, be properly compared with the base of the mountains farther east, where luxuriant forest covers all the slopes; but when contrasted with the Pinjor valley, or the low hills above Kalka, it is only on a careful comparison that a difference is to be observed, and then, perhaps, more by the absence of forms abundant in them than by any marked addition of new ones. The ordinary shrubs of the Sutlej, at 3000 feet, are Adhatoda Vasica, Carissa edulis, Colebrookea, Rottlera tinctoria, and some species of Bœhmeria, all characteristic of the outer hills, and the two first common plains plants. The remarkable Euphorbia pentagona is also common. Butea, Ægle, and Moringa do not occur, nor are there any bamboos. Flacourtia sepiaria, Capparis sepiaria, and Calotropis, which are three of the commonest plants of the plains, were also not observed. A large white-flowered caper (Capparis obovata, Royle) and a glabrous Zizyphus were the most remarkable new forms. The herbaceous vegetation differed scarcely at all from that of the plains, consisting chiefly of species which, during the rainy season, spring up in the lightest and driest soils.
Mountain plants were only occasional, and mostly such as at Simla descend on the dry grassy slopes into the valleys: a berberry and bramble (Rubus flavus), Plectranthus rugosus, which is a grey and dusty-looking shrub, Melissa umbrosa, Micromeria biflora, a little Geranium, Ajuga parviflora, a Galium, Senecio, Aplotaxis candicans, and one or two Umbelliferæ. They did not, however, amount to a twentieth part of the whole vegetation, and the aspect of the flora was quite subtropical. A little Eriophorum, which is everywhere common in arid places at the base of the Himalaya, from Assam to the Indus, was frequent in the crevices of the rocks. Ferns were very scarce, only two or three being observed.
The town of Rampur is a considerable place, on a small level tract of ground, about a hundred feet above the bed of the river Sutlej, which it overhangs. The houses are substantially built, in the form of a square, with an open space in the centre; they are mostly one-storied, and have steeply-sloping slated roofs. The town has a good deal of trade with Tibet, principally in shawl wool, and is the seat of a small manufacture of white soft shawl-cloths. The river is here crossed by a rope suspension-bridge, of a kind very common in the lower valleys, which has often been described. It consists of nine stout ropes, which are stretched from one side of the river to the other. The width of the Sutlej at the bridge, according to Captain Gerard, by whom it was measured, is 211 feet.
During our stay at Rampur, Major Cunningham directed my attention to the alteration of the level of the river at different periods of the day, from the variable amount of solar action on the snows by which it is fed. This effect he had noticed on his former visit to the mountains, and we had frequent opportunities of observing it during our journey. At Rampur the diurnal variation was not less than three or four feet, the maximum being, I believe, during the night or early in the morning. In the immediate vicinity of snow, the streams are highest in the afternoon, but as the distance increases the period of greatest height becomes by degrees later and later.
Except on our two first days' journey, we had been extremely fortunate in weather since leaving Simla. The day of the 8th was very cloudy and oppressive, and the 9th, on which we remained stationary at Rampur to make arrangements with the Rajah for our further progress through Basehir and Kunawar, was rainy throughout. The rain, however, was light, and did not prevent the Rajah from visiting us in the afternoon, impelled, I suppose, by a desire to see our apparatus and arrangements for travelling. We were lodged in an excellent upper-roomed house of his, overhanging the Sutlej, and not far from his own residence, which lies at the east end of the town, and externally is quite without beauty, presenting to view nothing but a mass of dead walls. The Rajah seldom remains during the hot season at Rampur, as he has a second residence at Serahan, twenty miles up the river, and 7000 feet above the level of the sea, in which he usually spends the summer, though during 1847, for some reason or other, he remained during the greater part of the year at Rampur.
On the morning of the 18th of August we resumed our journey. Our direction still lay up the valley of the Sutlej, and for the first three miles the road kept parallel to the river, ascending occasionally a few hundred feet to cross spurs, when the immediate margin of the Sutlej was too rocky and precipitous to allow of a passage. This was not unfrequently the case, and after a few miles the river-bank became so rugged and difficult, that the road left it, to ascend a long ridge, descending from the mountain range to the south. The early part of the road, from the many views of the river rushing over its rocky bed, often among immense boulders, and from the general boldness of the mountain scenery, was, though bare of forest, very striking. Frequently the road overhung the river, which ran through a narrow rocky ravine many hundred feet below. At other times, it lay over the surface of the flat platforms which occupied the valley, and in several places curious excavations were noticed on the rocky surface, as if the river had formerly flowed over higher levels. One of these ancient channels was so very remarkable, that it could not be overlooked. The rocky banks on either side were at least a hundred feet apart, and the large water-worn boulders, with occasional rugged pointed rocks which filled the bed, conveyed unmistakeably the conviction that we were walking over an ancient river-bed, though the elevation could not be less than 150 feet above the present level of the river.
Three miles from Rampur the road began to ascend a long spur in a south-east direction. After we had ascended a few hundred feet, the course of the river could be seen on the left among precipitous rocks, quite impracticable. The ascent was through a well-cultivated tract, the base of the hill and lower slopes being covered with fields of rice, still only a few inches high. The road ascended rapidly, through villages with numerous fruit-trees. At first, the vegetation continued the same as in the valley, and the hills were bare, except close to the village. Within a thousand feet of the base, the cultivation ceased, and the road entered a wood of scattered firs, mixed after a little with the common oak (Q. incana). At about 5000 feet the steep lateral spur joined the ridge, and the road turned to the eastward, and continued along the steep sides of the ridge, which overhang the valley of the river 2000 feet below. The Sutlej was well seen, running among bare rocky hills, the pine-wood being confined to the upper parts of the steep slopes.
Had we continued our course along this ridge, it would in time have conducted us to the crest of the main range south of the Sutlej, the same which we had left at Nagkanda to descend into the Sutlej valley. It would have been necessary for this purpose to ascend to a height of between 12,000 and 13,000 feet, and to proceed to a considerable distance south; our object, however, being to keep along the river as nearly as possible, it would not have suited our purpose to ascend so far, and the road only left the banks of the Sutlej on account of the difficult nature of the ground in the bottom of the valley. We found, therefore, after continuing a mile or two on the steep slope of the ridge, that the road again began to descend, not exactly towards the Sutlej, but to the bottom of the ravine or dell, by which the spur on which we had ascended was separated from that next in succession to it.
As far as the beginning of the descent the hill-side had been bare, or only clothed with scattered pine-wood, but as soon as the eastern slope was gained, and the descent commenced, the slopes became well wooded with Rhododendron and Oak. The descent was probably not more than 1000 feet, perhaps scarcely so much, as the ravine sloped very abruptly to the Sutlej; on the lower part of the descent, and on the bank of the stream, the wood was principally alder, and a few subtropical grasses and Cyperaceæ marked the commencement of the vegetation of the lower region, while a valerian, a Hieracium, a species of Datisca, and an Arundo or allied grass, were the new species of plants observed; of these, perhaps the Datisca alone markedly indicated an approach to the interior Himalaya. After crossing the ravine the road ascended abruptly up a well-wooded slope, on the northern face of a steep spur, to the village of Gaora, at which, for the first time since leaving Simla, we encamped, no house being available for our accommodation. The morning had been fair, though dull, but soon after our arrival at Gaora it began to rain, and continued to do so all the afternoon.
Gaora is situated, according to Captain Gerard, about 3000 feet above Rampur; but from the appearance of the vegetation, and a comparison with known heights on both hands, we estimated the elevation of our encampment to be not more than 5500 feet, so that probably Captain Gerard's observations refer to some more elevated point.
On resuming our journey on the morning of the 11th of August, we continued the ascent of the spur on which the village of Gaora is situated, which is well wooded with the ordinary trees of the temperate zone of the Himalaya. There were a few rice-fields on the hill-side on cleared places above 6000 feet, and some orange-trees in the villages at about the same elevation; from both of which facts, more sun-heat and less rain during summer may be inferred, than in similar elevations on the outer Himalaya, where neither rice nor oranges occur so high. A little way higher up, the forest changed its character, the holly-leaved oak, the deodar, and the spruce, being the common trees, among which the road continued for four or five miles, without much change of level, when the forest ceased, and the road, after continuing for a short time at about the same level, descended abruptly to the ravine of the Manglâd river, a considerable stream, now swollen into a furious torrent, which rushed with impetuosity down its steep rocky bed. A great part of the descent was bare, over crumbling mica-slate rocks.
The vegetation in the bottom of the glen showed, as on former occasions, indications of a low elevation, but presented no novelty, except in the occurrence of Melia Azedarach, apparently wild. I have occasionally noticed this tree in the interior of the Himalaya, always at an elevation of between 4000 and 5000 feet, and invariably in the drier valleys of the mountains, but it is so commonly cultivated in India, that its occurrence can scarcely be regarded as a proof of its being indigenous, especially if we consider that it is a rare circumstance to find it in even an apparently wild state. I do not, however, know that it has a greater claim to be considered a native of any part of the world.
The ascent on the east side was long, steep, and fatiguing, up well-wooded slopes. At about 6000 feet, a single tree of Hippophaë conferta, with nearly ripe fruit, was observed near a spring, and a few hundred feet higher the road gained the ridge, and continued for a mile and a half of very gentle ascent, on a broad, nearly level mountain-side, to Serahan, through beautiful forest of oak and pine. Serahan, the summer residence of the Basehir Rajah, is pleasantly situated at an elevation of 7000 feet above the level of the sea, on the northern slope of the mountain range, surrounded on all sides by pine-forest. The village is small, and occupies the lower margin of an open glade of considerable extent, on which there is a good deal of cultivation, of the same plants as I have noted at Kotgarh. The latter part of our march had been through heavy rain, which continued all the evening, and the greater part of the night, but we were fortunate enough to find an empty house, capable of sheltering our servants and baggage, as well as ourselves.
Besides the Hippophaë, which I noted on the ascent from Manglâd, several plants appeared on this day's journey, which served to chronicle a gradual alteration in the flora, notwithstanding that the forest-trees and general character continued generally the same. Of these, the most interesting, by far, was a plant discovered by Mr. Edgeworth, in the same tract of country, and by him described as Oxybaphus Himalayanus, a species of a genus otherwise entirely South American. It is a rank-growing, coarse, herbaceous plant, with tumid joints, and a straggling dichotomous habit, and has small pink or rose-coloured flowers, covered with a viscid exudation. It grows in open pastures and in waste places near villages, and is an abundant species throughout the Kunawar valley.
On the morning of the 12th of August we marched to Tranda, along the mountain-side, winding a little with its sinuations, and occasionally descending to cross the little streamlets which furrow its side, and separate the lateral ridges from one another. The road lay through beautiful forest, and as the day was fine we obtained at intervals a succession of superb views, of the deep and well-wooded valleys below, and the rugged mountains north of the Sutlej. The forest-trees were still the hoary and holly-leaved oak, with deodar and spruce, though in the more shady woods along the streams, the horse-chesnut, and a fine glaucous-leaved laurel, were common. The shrubby and herbaceous vegetation was in general character the same as in the denser woods of Simla, the new species being still quite exceptional.
It soon became necessary to descend, in order to gain a place on the next range in succession to the eastward, so as not to leave the river at too great a distance. Forest continued to the bottom of the descent, which showed no signs of tropical vegetation, and was therefore not to so low a level as those of previous days. The remainder of the day's journey consisted of a succession of ascents and descents, mostly long and fatiguing, with occasionally half a mile nearly level. Many of the steeper parts were very rocky and rugged, so difficult that artificial steps were required to make them practicable, and even with their aid a horse could scarcely pass. The greater part of the road lay through forest, and two considerable streams were crossed besides the one on the early part of the march. From the last of these a long and very laborious ascent led to the crest of the Tranda ridge, on the very top of which we halted for the night in a log hut, built for the accommodation of travellers, in the midst of a fine forest of deodar-trees.
The Tranda ridge has, till near its termination, an elevation of upwards of 8000 feet, and projects boldly forward towards the Sutlej, dipping at last extremely abruptly to the river. The Sutlej is here thrown to the north, in a sharp bend, and runs through a deep gloomy ravine. This ridge, therefore, more lofty and abrupt than any farther west, is considered as the commencement of Kunawar; and the valley to the eastward, as far as the Wangtu bridge, is generally called Lower Kunawar, to distinguish it from the upper and drier parts of that district. The rise of the bed of the river is so gradual, that the transition of climate takes place at first by almost insensible gradations; but as soon as the spurs retain a height of 8000 feet till close to the Sutlej, they exercise a powerful influence upon the climate, and the vegetation and physical aspect of the country change with great rapidity.
CHAPTER III.
Sildang river—Fine grove of Deodars—Nachar—Fruit-trees—Vine seen for first time—Boundaries of Kulu and Kunawar—Cross Sutlej at Wangtu bridge—Vegetation of bare rocky valley—Waterfall—Chegaon—Pinus Gerardiana—Miru—Absence of rain—Alteration of vegetation—Quercus Ilex—Rogi—Willow and Poplar—Chini—Cultivated Plain—Kashbir—Pangi—Camp at upper level of trees—Junipers—Werang Pass—Alpine Vegetation—Birch and Rhododendron—Granite Boulders—Lipa—Alluvial Deposits—Encamp at 12,500 feet—Runang Pass—Vegetation very scanty—Stunted Forest—Sungnam.
The night we spent at Tranda was stormy, with thunder and heavy showers of rain, but the morning of the 13th was bright and beautiful, enabling us to see from our elevated position on the ridge, a single snow-peak, far to the eastward, in Kunawar. At the commencement of the day's march, the road receded from the Sutlej into a deep mountain bay, densely wooded with deodar and pine (Pinus excelsa). A few trees only of spruce and horse-chesnut occurred. After a mile, passing round a projecting spur, a fine view was obtained of the river Sutlej at the bottom of a deep ravine, and of the mountain range north of the river, now in several places covered with heavy snow. A little farther on, the road descended very abruptly along the face of rugged and precipitous rocks, to the valley of the Sildang river, a large stream which was crossed in two branches by two very indifferent wooden bridges. The Sildang valley, at the point where the road crosses it, has been stated by Gerard to be elevated 5800 feet above the level of the sea. It is a larger stream than any of those yet crossed since leaving Rampur, and its ravine is beautifully wooded. The ascent to the east was gentle, through woods of oak and pine, and after rising a few hundred feet, the road continued nearly level for some miles, with the Sutlej in sight below. A large village was passed on the latter part of the march, with many temples evidently of old date, and situated in a grove of very large deodar-trees, several of which were upwards of twenty feet in circumference. One large tree with a flattened trunk, as if formed by the union of two, measured, at five feet from the base, thirty-five and a-half feet round. This grove was evidently of great age, and probably consisted of old trees, at the time the village was founded, and the temples were built under its sacred shade.
Nachar, at which we took up our quarters for the night, is a very large village, by far the most considerable yet passed, with many good houses, much cultivated land, and great numbers of fine fruit-trees. Walnuts, peaches, apricots, and mulberries, were all common; and I saw one grape-vine, which bore a good many bunches of fruit. The crops cultivated were chiefly millet and buckwheat, with a good many fields of Amaranthus and Chenopodium. The fruit-trees were evidently, from their numbers and luxuriance, a very valuable part of the possessions of the inhabitants; and it was very interesting to meet with the vine, though only in small quantity, and evidently not yet in a thoroughly suitable climate. The elevation of the village, which occupied a great extent of the hill-side sloping down towards the Sutlej, now close at hand, was nearly 7000 feet.
Nearly opposite Nachar, the district of Kunawar, which had hitherto been confined to the south bank of the Sutlej, extends to both sides of the river; the province of Kulu, which had hitherto occupied the northern bank, being bounded on the east by the mountain-chain which separates the waters of the Beas river from those of the Piti, a tributary of the Sutlej. By this very lofty chain, the villages on the north side of the Sutlej, to the east of the point now reached, are entirely cut off from the valley of the Beas, and naturally become connected with the district immediately opposite to them, with which alone they have an easy communication. Kulu, till the campaign of 1846, had belonged to the Punjab; but one of the results of the Sikh war, in that year, was the transfer of that district to British rule, so that the Sutlej, in its lower course, no longer served as a boundary between hostile states. In Kunawar, the north side of the river is the most important, because it is more populous and fertile than the south, not only from its more favourable exposure, but because the chain to the south of the Sutlej continues to increase in elevation as it proceeds eastward, while that on the north becomes gradually lower as it advances towards the confluence of the Sutlej and Piti rivers.
For this reason the main road or highway through Kunawar crosses to the right bank of the Sutlej, a short way above Nachar. At starting, therefore, on the morning of the 14th of August, we began to descend towards the river. For about a mile and a half the descent was very gentle, through a good deal of cultivation. There were many fruit-trees, but very little natural wood; a few horse-chesnut trees were observed, and occasionally a scattered deodar, spruce, or pine. On the earlier part of the road the pines were P. excelsa, but lower down that tree gave place to P. longifolia. After a mile and a half, the descent became more rapid, over a rocky and bad road, which continued to the bridge, distant three miles from Nachar. On the bare, arid, and rocky hills between Nachar and the river, several very striking novelties were observed in the vegetation; but as the road had for several days been at a higher level, and generally among dense forest, it is not improbable that many of these new plants may occur on the lower parts of the hills, in the immediate vicinity of the river, further to the westward. The new species were in all about six in number, of which three—two species of Daphne and an olive—were very abundant, and therefore prominent features in the appearance of the country.
At the point where the bridge has been thrown across, the river Sutlej has an elevation, by the determination of Captain Gerard, of 5200 feet above the level of the sea. Its bed and the banks on both sides are very rocky and bare, and the width of the stream not more than seventy feet. The bridge is of that kind called by the mountaineers sanga, which means a wooden bridge or bridge of planks, contrasted with jhula, a rope-bridge. On the left bank the pier of the bridge is formed by an isolated rock, separated from the rocky banks by an ancient bed of the river, now quite dry, but worn smooth by the action of the current. This former channel is stated by Gerard to have been blocked up by a fall of rocks from above; previous to which occurrence, the isolated rock must have stood as an island in the centre of the stream. The construction of the bridge is singular, but simple, and only adapted for very little traffic. Six stout trunks of trees are laid alongside of one another on the pier, so that the end towards the river is a little higher than the other; above these are placed in succession two similar layers of trunks, each projecting several feet beyond the one below it, and the whole of these are kept in position by a substantial stone building, through which the roadway runs. A similar structure on the opposite bank narrows the distance to be spanned, at the same time that it affords support to the central portion of the bridge, which consists of two strong pine-trees fifty feet in length, placed about two feet apart, and supporting stout cross planking. The whole forms a bridge quite strong enough to support foot-passengers or lightly laden horses, the only purpose for which it is required.
In spite of the considerable elevation which the Sutlej valley had now acquired, a number of plants of tropical character occurred in the neighbourhood of the Wangtu bridge. These were mostly common grasses and Cyperaceæ, Polycarpæa corymbosa, Achyranthes aspera, and a few other species, all common mountain-plants at low elevations, which here, from the great heat caused by the lessened rain and the concentration of the sun's rays, at the bottom of a deep bare valley, surmounted on both sides by mountains 10,000 feet above its level, enjoy a congenial climate. They are, however, confined to the most exposed places, and to the lower levels only. A few rugged pine-trees are scattered on the steep rocks, both Pinus excelsa, which does not descend quite to the base of the hills, and Pinus longifolia, which has here reached nearly its eastern limits, the elevation of the river-bed soon becoming greater than that at which it will grow. Close to the Wangtu bridge, on the right bank, a considerable stream joins the Sutlej from the north, and is crossed by the road not far from its junction with the great river. The lower part of this tributary exhibits a succession of fine rapids and a waterfall, now much swollen by the melting of the snow; and which, notwithstanding the want of trees and consequent bareness of the accessories, formed a picture such as often greets the eye of the traveller in the alpine districts of Himalaya, but which no amount of repetition renders less grand and magnificent. Captain Gerard has, in his little 'Tour in Kunawar,' described this torrent in strong language, which showed that he felt the beauty of the scene. For this he has been condemned by Jacquemont, who sneeringly says that he describes it "comme si c'était le Niagara," an expression which induced me to turn on the spot to Gerard's book, so that I can testify to the accuracy and absence of exaggeration of his description.
After crossing this stream, the road ascends the spur which runs parallel to it, to an elevation of about 1000 feet above the Sutlej, but only to descend again to its banks, the ascent being caused by the impracticable nature of the rocky banks of the river. The spur was bare of trees, but with scattered brushwood, in which the olive and white Daphne, observed on the descent from Nachar, still abounded, with several other novelties, among which a Clematis, Silene, Stellaria, and Selaginella, all previously-described Kunawar species, were the most remarkable. Several of the grasses of the plains of India, such as a Panicum (perhaps P. paludosum), Eleusine Indica, and Heteropogon contortus, occurred on the hot dry pastures among the rocks, up to above 6000 feet. The rock was everywhere gneiss, but varied much in appearance and texture, and contained many granite veins.
After regaining the river, the road ran along its bank, or on low spurs not more than a few hundred feet above it, through a dry treeless tract, till about two miles from the end of the day's journey, when a long steep ascent led to Chegaon, a large village situated on a stream with steep rocky banks, the houses as usual being surrounded with fruit-trees. Here we encamped after a march of at least fourteen miles, at an elevation of 7000 feet above the level of the sea, or nearly 1800 feet above the valley of the Sutlej.
Next day our journey was a short one, not more than five and a half miles, to the village of Miru. It began by a rapid ascent for two miles to the crest of the ridge, advancing all the time towards the Sutlej, which wound round the base of the steep spur 2000 feet below. The ascent was bare (as the slopes facing the west generally are), and the hill-side almost precipitous; but as soon as the crest of the ridge, at an elevation of about 8000 feet, had been gained, scattered trees appeared of a species not previously seen. This was P. Gerardiana, the pine of Kunawar and the other dry regions of the Western Himalaya, from the back parts of Garhwal (where it has been seen by Dr. Jameson) to the valleys of the Upper Chenab. The first trees met with were small, and in appearance quite distinct from P. longifolia and excelsa, being more compact, with much shorter leaves and a very peculiar bark, falling off in large patches, so as to leave the trunk nearly smooth.
Beyond the crest of the ridge, from which the view into the Sutlej valley, and towards the mountains across the river, was superb, the road on the east slope again receded from the river, entering an oak-wood, through which it continued nearly level for more than a mile, but soon began to descend slightly towards the stream, which ran at the bottom of a deep ravine, down to which the road plunged abruptly, to ascend again as steeply on the other side; after which a steep ascent of upwards of a mile led to Miru, a large village in which we encamped, at an elevation of 8500 feet.
At this delightful elevation, in a climate where the periodical rains of the Himalaya are scarcely felt, embosomed in extensive orchards of luxuriant fruit-trees, and facing the south, so that it has the full benefit of the sun's rays to mature its grain-crops, Miru is one of the most delightful villages of Kunawar, being rivalled only by Rogi and Chini, beyond which the climate becomes too arid for beauty. The crops at Miru, both of grain and fruit, were most luxuriant, and the vine thrives to perfection. The principal vineyards, however, are lower down, at elevations of between 6000 and 7000 feet, at which level the sun has more power in autumn to ripen the grape.
The scenery around Miru is indescribably beautiful, as it almost overhangs the Sutlej 3000 feet below, while beyond the river the mountain-slopes are densely wooded, yet often rocky and with every variation of form. A single peak, still streaked with snow, but too steep for much to lie, rises almost due opposite; behind which the summits of the chain south of the Sutlej rise to an elevation of upwards of 18,000 feet.
At Miru we found that we had completely left the rainy region of the mountains, and henceforward the weather continued beautiful. The change had been very gradual. At Serahan we had heavy rain; a rainy night at Tranda was succeeded by a brilliant day, till the afternoon, when it rained smartly for an hour. The next day was again fine, and at Miru, though the afternoon was cloudy, and a heavy storm was visible among the mountains across the Sutlej, only a few drops of rain fell. The transition from a rainy to a dry climate had thus been apparently very sudden, four days having brought us from Serahan, where the periodical rains were falling heavily, to a place at which there were only light showers. This was in part, of course, accident. Fine weather may, perhaps, have set-in in the interval in all parts of the mountains. In very rainy seasons, when the rain-fall in the outer Himalaya is considerably above the mean, heavy showers extend into Kunawar, at least as far as Chini; and careful meteorological observations would probably show that the transition of climate is a very gradual one, the snowy mountains and the great spurs which run towards the Sutlej collecting and condensing, as they increase in elevation, more and more of the moisture which is brought by the south-east winds from the Bay of Bengal.