Monday, January 18, 2010
Sunday, January 17, 2010
Sunday, January 10, 2010
A Trip to Baltistan, 1895: introduction
This is the journal kept by my Grandfather George William Tyndale Tyndale-Biscoe when he and his sister Fanny went to Kashmir in 1895 to visit their brother Cecil who was principal of a mission school in Srinagar, later to take his name, and still known by it (The Tyndale-Biscoe School).
Christened George William Tyndale, my Grandfather was born in 1864 at Holton Park, Oxfordshire, which his father William Earle Tyndale had inherited from his mother, Mary Anne Earle (née Biscoe), who had inherited it from her maiden sisters, Francis and Elizabeth, who themselves had inherited it from their unmarried brother Elisha Biscoe. Upon his inheritance, William Earl Tyndale changed his name to Biscoe, but his children were reluctant to lose a name which connected them to William Tyndale, translator of the Bible into English and a number of illustrious ancestors, so they all became Tyndale-Biscoes by deed poll.
George went to Bradfield public school, and from there studied engineering at King’s College, London, and is said to have built a railway bridge in Lancashire.
He married Isabel Annesley, a distant relation, of Clifford Chambers, Staffordshire, and both of them went to Srinagar, Kashmir where George helped his charismatic brother Cecil (later Canon) as vice-principal of the school he ran there.
He returned to Oxford about 1900 to study Theology.
His first son, Francis who would become a Friar belonging to the Anglican order of the Society of St Francis, was born at Oxford in 1904. He died in December, 2003.
In 1908, as a result of his experiences in Kashmir, George (aged 44) became principal of the CMS Baring High School in Batal, near Amritsar in the Punjab. Francis recalls that the family used to go into the mountains during the hot summer months - Dalhousie and Kashmir in 1908 where their second son John was born (died December 10, 1998).
In 1912 the family returned to England, staying at Woodside, near Hotlon, and George was ordained. He became a deacon and served in the parish of Bradfield for two years, then became curate at St Jude’s, Southsea.
When war broke out in 1914, he took an unusual step for a man of his class and worked in a munitions factory and then joined the Royal Medical Corps as a Private and was sent to Rouen. A member of the minor landed gentry, he could have been expected to have applied for a Commission.
IN 1920 he became Rector of Bishop’s Caundle in Dorset and in 1925 he became Rector of Shalstone, near Buckingham.
On February 17, 1930, Isabel died of kidney disease and now aged 66 and unwilling to continue in a ministry without her support, he resigned the living and went to live at Milford-on-Sea near his brother Arthur at Keyhaven.
He married Flora, a widow, who lived in the house next door. It was not a happy marriage, Flora being jealous of anybody who took up George’s time.
She died in 1954 and George went to live with his niece Barbara Waterman, daughter of Brigadier General Julian Tyndale-Biscoe of the 11th Hussars at Broadstone in Dorset who ran a guest house there..
He died in 1957 aged 93. Barbara died August 2000.
Christened George William Tyndale, my Grandfather was born in 1864 at Holton Park, Oxfordshire, which his father William Earle Tyndale had inherited from his mother, Mary Anne Earle (née Biscoe), who had inherited it from her maiden sisters, Francis and Elizabeth, who themselves had inherited it from their unmarried brother Elisha Biscoe. Upon his inheritance, William Earl Tyndale changed his name to Biscoe, but his children were reluctant to lose a name which connected them to William Tyndale, translator of the Bible into English and a number of illustrious ancestors, so they all became Tyndale-Biscoes by deed poll.
George went to Bradfield public school, and from there studied engineering at King’s College, London, and is said to have built a railway bridge in Lancashire.
He married Isabel Annesley, a distant relation, of Clifford Chambers, Staffordshire, and both of them went to Srinagar, Kashmir where George helped his charismatic brother Cecil (later Canon) as vice-principal of the school he ran there.
He returned to Oxford about 1900 to study Theology.
His first son, Francis who would become a Friar belonging to the Anglican order of the Society of St Francis, was born at Oxford in 1904. He died in December, 2003.
In 1908, as a result of his experiences in Kashmir, George (aged 44) became principal of the CMS Baring High School in Batal, near Amritsar in the Punjab. Francis recalls that the family used to go into the mountains during the hot summer months - Dalhousie and Kashmir in 1908 where their second son John was born (died December 10, 1998).
In 1912 the family returned to England, staying at Woodside, near Hotlon, and George was ordained. He became a deacon and served in the parish of Bradfield for two years, then became curate at St Jude’s, Southsea.
When war broke out in 1914, he took an unusual step for a man of his class and worked in a munitions factory and then joined the Royal Medical Corps as a Private and was sent to Rouen. A member of the minor landed gentry, he could have been expected to have applied for a Commission.
IN 1920 he became Rector of Bishop’s Caundle in Dorset and in 1925 he became Rector of Shalstone, near Buckingham.
On February 17, 1930, Isabel died of kidney disease and now aged 66 and unwilling to continue in a ministry without her support, he resigned the living and went to live at Milford-on-Sea near his brother Arthur at Keyhaven.
He married Flora, a widow, who lived in the house next door. It was not a happy marriage, Flora being jealous of anybody who took up George’s time.
She died in 1954 and George went to live with his niece Barbara Waterman, daughter of Brigadier General Julian Tyndale-Biscoe of the 11th Hussars at Broadstone in Dorset who ran a guest house there..
He died in 1957 aged 93. Barbara died August 2000.
Tuesday, December 1, 2009
The journey begins
An account of this journey is contained in the letters that follow and which I wrote during its progress.
My father died in January 1895, and this event entailed the breaking up of our home at Holton Park (an estate in Oxfordshire - the house is now a girl's school - ST-B). My sister Fanny decided to go out to India, on a visit to my brother Cecil in Kashmir. He had been working in the CMS (Church Missionary Society) Missions schools there since the end of 1890. I agreed to go with her, and beside the purpose of bearing her company, I hoped perhaps to find some job in the engineering line. We left London on the P&O liner SS Peninsular on Fri. 8th March, and arrived at Karachi having change to the B.I. boat S.S.Dwarka at Bombay. We proceeded to Lahore, then a journey of 36 hours, and after a day or two to Murree, the hill station 30 miles north of Rawal Pindi. Here we were joined by my brother Albert, then quartered at Mian Mir, and continued our journey (6 days by road and two by river) to Srinegar, Kashmir. We stayed at Holton Cottage with my brother Cecil and family,
and later on, with them at their summer holiday resort at Nil Nág. Otherwise during the next 6 months or so we occupied our time travelling about the Vale of Kashmir and its adjoining valleys, with Albert and on one trip, also with Julian (anothe of the brothers - ST-B), who had come up on leave from Sial Kat.
In August Dr Arthur Neve of the C.M.S. medical mission was intending to start on a journey to Hunza Narga, in the far north of Kashmir, and he asked me to accompany him.
Hunza and Nagar are two small states, the latter very small, consisting only of a few villages, situated in valleys on the South side of the Karakoram Mountains. There were nominally under the suzerainty of the Maharajah of Kashmir. They (Hunza in particular) had been behaving in a very lawless and truculent manner, and in 1892 had been brought to order after a short but hard fought campaign.
Dr Arthur Neve’s purpose was to employ a few weeks' holiday in making a visit to Hunza and Nagar to see what possibilities there might be of starting mission work in those parts.
The direct route to Hunza Nagar was by the lately made military road to the frontier station at Gilghit (220 miles) and then on (60 miles) to Hunza. Owing, however, to the difficulty of supplies and transport on the road, it was closed to ordinary travellers. Dr Never therefore planned to get there by another - rather round about route, that is five marches up the Gilghit road, three over the Deosan Plains to Scardu (more commonly Skardu) in Baltistan. Then north through Shigar (on the Bhigur, a tributary of the Indus) 7 or 8 marches to the Nushik La (pass) 1700 ft. (In his book Thirty Years in Kashmir, Arthur Neve FRCSE, refers to it as the Nushik Pass). The descent from the pass would bring us out onto the Great Hispar Glacier. Several marches down the glacier, and the valley beyond would bring us to Hunza. This pass had long been disused, though it had been crossed a few years before, by Sir Martin Conway’s Exploring Expedition. Owing, however, to its conditions, as my letters relate, we failed to get beyond the pass, and returned to Srinegar by a roundabout route of 26 marches.
My father died in January 1895, and this event entailed the breaking up of our home at Holton Park (an estate in Oxfordshire - the house is now a girl's school - ST-B). My sister Fanny decided to go out to India, on a visit to my brother Cecil in Kashmir. He had been working in the CMS (Church Missionary Society) Missions schools there since the end of 1890. I agreed to go with her, and beside the purpose of bearing her company, I hoped perhaps to find some job in the engineering line. We left London on the P&O liner SS Peninsular on Fri. 8th March, and arrived at Karachi having change to the B.I. boat S.S.Dwarka at Bombay. We proceeded to Lahore, then a journey of 36 hours, and after a day or two to Murree, the hill station 30 miles north of Rawal Pindi. Here we were joined by my brother Albert, then quartered at Mian Mir, and continued our journey (6 days by road and two by river) to Srinegar, Kashmir. We stayed at Holton Cottage with my brother Cecil and family,
and later on, with them at their summer holiday resort at Nil Nág. Otherwise during the next 6 months or so we occupied our time travelling about the Vale of Kashmir and its adjoining valleys, with Albert and on one trip, also with Julian (anothe of the brothers - ST-B), who had come up on leave from Sial Kat.
In August Dr Arthur Neve of the C.M.S. medical mission was intending to start on a journey to Hunza Narga, in the far north of Kashmir, and he asked me to accompany him.
Hunza and Nagar are two small states, the latter very small, consisting only of a few villages, situated in valleys on the South side of the Karakoram Mountains. There were nominally under the suzerainty of the Maharajah of Kashmir. They (Hunza in particular) had been behaving in a very lawless and truculent manner, and in 1892 had been brought to order after a short but hard fought campaign.
Dr Arthur Neve’s purpose was to employ a few weeks' holiday in making a visit to Hunza and Nagar to see what possibilities there might be of starting mission work in those parts.
The direct route to Hunza Nagar was by the lately made military road to the frontier station at Gilghit (220 miles) and then on (60 miles) to Hunza. Owing, however, to the difficulty of supplies and transport on the road, it was closed to ordinary travellers. Dr Never therefore planned to get there by another - rather round about route, that is five marches up the Gilghit road, three over the Deosan Plains to Scardu (more commonly Skardu) in Baltistan. Then north through Shigar (on the Bhigur, a tributary of the Indus) 7 or 8 marches to the Nushik La (pass) 1700 ft. (In his book Thirty Years in Kashmir, Arthur Neve FRCSE, refers to it as the Nushik Pass). The descent from the pass would bring us out onto the Great Hispar Glacier. Several marches down the glacier, and the valley beyond would bring us to Hunza. This pass had long been disused, though it had been crossed a few years before, by Sir Martin Conway’s Exploring Expedition. Owing, however, to its conditions, as my letters relate, we failed to get beyond the pass, and returned to Srinegar by a roundabout route of 26 marches.
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
One
Dak Bangalow,
Skardu. Baltistan
Aug 2nd 1895
My Dear Stafford,
You being about the greatest traveller of the family, and fond also of reading of travel, I think you might be more interested to hear first hand from me some account of my journey with Dr Arthur Neve to Hunza. You must excuse shabby writing as I haven’t a table to write upon. Having come down from Nil Nág with Albert on Friday 9th, and seen him off for Siálkot on Saturday. I spent Sunday with the Neves, being busy most of the day making final preparations for our journey.
At 12 o’clock on Monday 12th Dr Neve started in a doongah (large travelling boat), having all our things on board, and picked me up at the Sheikh Bagh Ghá. We were accompanied by Dr and Mrs Adams, C.M.S. people, who were starting for a trip up the Sind Valley. As we passed down the river through the city, we were accosted as usual by silver and other merchants, running their boats alongside, wanting to shew us their wares.
(Pictures of the city, from the river and of the chief Hindu Temple, from paintings by Miss Ada Barclay)
We travelled all together in the Adams’ doongha, and spent a lazy and pleasant day, and a warm one too, just floating down stream, the boatman doing hardly more than just keeping the boast straight with their paddles. After passing under the seven bridges of the city, and the innumerable boats passing up and down the river, the people washing themselves and their clothes in the ghats, women filling their water pots, and little boys sliding down the mud banks with their back sludge at the bottom, we came out into the open country and wound slowly along a few miles from the grass-covered mountain spurs which bound the vale on the north east. To the west on our left the river was bounded some 20 miles away by the long jagged crest of the Pir Punjál range, rising to 10,000 feet above the level of the vale. About 5 o’clock in the evening the Adams’ boat turned off up a side stream to the Sind Valley. So we didn’t see any more of them.
Before dinner Neve and I walked a mile or two along the bank through the thick iris plants, and saw the usual golden sunset. In the spring, the irises made a wide carpeting of blue, but were now flowerless and about 2 feet high.
On turning in for the night, we each suspended our mosquito bags from the roof of the boat and tried to sleep, but on account of the heat, and the mosquitoes that found an entrance, and the noise of those that didn’t, we neither of us got to sleep till about 3am. The boatmen too, in crossing part of the Woolar Lake got into some very shallow water amongst thick weeds, and for a long time were hauling the boat about trying to find the deep channel.. At 5.30 we woke up to find ourselves drawn up with many other boats on the canal which runs from the Woolah through some flat country to Bandipur. We were now beset by swarms of mosquitoes, and while we were dressing, the men put some fire pots (kangris) filled with smouldering cow dung windward and so to smoke them away. Neve sent off a note to Capt Codrington, the assistant Gilghit Transport officer, for the ponies that had been promised us, and after Choti Hazir (the journal has no explanation as to what this is, but from the context I suppose it is a pre-breakfast snack - ST-B) he went to see about them, and brought back five mules on which our baggage was loaded, a job that took about an hour and a half, so we didn’t get started till nearly 10 o’clock. A blazing hot 5 mile walk up the valley brought us to the foot of the 4000ft ascent to Tragbal, our destination for that day. There we waited for the mules, which were very slow in coming, and for breakfast which we didn’t get till one o’clock.
The road ascends the mountain spur in mile long zig zags, but went straight up the Kud, a very perspiring climb of 2½ hours. Tragbal is just a camping place at the edge of thick forest, and on the shoulder of the spur of which we had come. A wonderful view from here. The whole of the Vale of Kashmir with the Woolar Lake in the near distance, and the Pir Punjál range in the far, lies stretched out beneath us. Steep pine slopes face us across the Erin Nullah, reaching up to the rocky summits of Mt. Hara Mûk (17000ft).
This night we were guests of Mr and Mrs Oliphant of the Kashmir Telegraph Service (Superintendent) who hospitably entertained us at dinner and breakfast and a tent, not to mention our much looked for tea on arrival.
The next morning, Wednesday 4th, had Choti Haziri at 6.30, packed and got the mules and baggage away about 9. A jolly fresh morning after rain at night. Pleasant sound of dogs, cocks, rooks etc. Light clouds floating along the sides of the green forest clad hills around. After breakfast with the Oliphants, we started off. The first 3 miles or so zig zagging up through pine forest, then out onto the grassy uplands towards the top of the Rajdiamgan Pass 11570 ft. Passed strings of camels and ponies carrying the supplies to Gilghit. There are some 80 camels and 800 ponies working the transport from Bandipur to Gilghit. It clouded up so there was not much view of the mountains.
Beyond the top, and descending, the flowers along the whole way were lovely. In some places the whole mountainside was yellow with ragwort, yellow potentilas. Further down, larkspur, columbine, crimson potentila, small pink and blue balsam. Here and there were white and red flowering thistles, light blue poppies, roses, purple loosestorfe (?) and masses of yellow balsam. We descended about 6 miles and then sat beside the stream to eat the eggs and bread and butter we had in our pockets, and to bathe our feet. This near the Gurais rest house
On again at 2.45 and about 4 miles down crossed the Zedhuska stream and followed the old road through the Kansilwan Merg - a lovely walk. Kept along the old track along the left bank of the Kishanganga River through forest where we found wild raspberries and blackcurrants.
The track came to and end, and entailed a rough clamber down to the road again, which we struck near the bridge, by which the road, which had followed up the further side of the river ,crossed back to the left bank. A fine view here from the bridge of Mnt Changa which Albert, Julian and I had tried to climb when we were at Gurais a few weeks ago. At about 7 o’clock we arrived at the bungalow of Mr Mitchell, who has charge of the Gilghit road. Mr and Mrs and two little girls live at Gurais all the summer, and have an enclosed meadow, kitchen garden, fowl houses etc.
They had two tents pitched and elegantly furnished for us. The next morning, Mitchell, Neve and I rode about 4 miles up the valley before breakfast to arrange with the lambadar (headman of the village) about our further transport. In the evening 2 ladies, officers’ wives, and a Colonel Unwin, who are staying at Gurais came in for badminton. It seemed rather odd being at an afternoon party and eating raspberries and cream in such an out of the way place.
Skardu. Baltistan
Aug 2nd 1895
My Dear Stafford,
You being about the greatest traveller of the family, and fond also of reading of travel, I think you might be more interested to hear first hand from me some account of my journey with Dr Arthur Neve to Hunza. You must excuse shabby writing as I haven’t a table to write upon. Having come down from Nil Nág with Albert on Friday 9th, and seen him off for Siálkot on Saturday. I spent Sunday with the Neves, being busy most of the day making final preparations for our journey.
At 12 o’clock on Monday 12th Dr Neve started in a doongah (large travelling boat), having all our things on board, and picked me up at the Sheikh Bagh Ghá. We were accompanied by Dr and Mrs Adams, C.M.S. people, who were starting for a trip up the Sind Valley. As we passed down the river through the city, we were accosted as usual by silver and other merchants, running their boats alongside, wanting to shew us their wares.
(Pictures of the city, from the river and of the chief Hindu Temple, from paintings by Miss Ada Barclay)
We travelled all together in the Adams’ doongha, and spent a lazy and pleasant day, and a warm one too, just floating down stream, the boatman doing hardly more than just keeping the boast straight with their paddles. After passing under the seven bridges of the city, and the innumerable boats passing up and down the river, the people washing themselves and their clothes in the ghats, women filling their water pots, and little boys sliding down the mud banks with their back sludge at the bottom, we came out into the open country and wound slowly along a few miles from the grass-covered mountain spurs which bound the vale on the north east. To the west on our left the river was bounded some 20 miles away by the long jagged crest of the Pir Punjál range, rising to 10,000 feet above the level of the vale. About 5 o’clock in the evening the Adams’ boat turned off up a side stream to the Sind Valley. So we didn’t see any more of them.
Before dinner Neve and I walked a mile or two along the bank through the thick iris plants, and saw the usual golden sunset. In the spring, the irises made a wide carpeting of blue, but were now flowerless and about 2 feet high.
On turning in for the night, we each suspended our mosquito bags from the roof of the boat and tried to sleep, but on account of the heat, and the mosquitoes that found an entrance, and the noise of those that didn’t, we neither of us got to sleep till about 3am. The boatmen too, in crossing part of the Woolar Lake got into some very shallow water amongst thick weeds, and for a long time were hauling the boat about trying to find the deep channel.. At 5.30 we woke up to find ourselves drawn up with many other boats on the canal which runs from the Woolah through some flat country to Bandipur. We were now beset by swarms of mosquitoes, and while we were dressing, the men put some fire pots (kangris) filled with smouldering cow dung windward and so to smoke them away. Neve sent off a note to Capt Codrington, the assistant Gilghit Transport officer, for the ponies that had been promised us, and after Choti Hazir (the journal has no explanation as to what this is, but from the context I suppose it is a pre-breakfast snack - ST-B) he went to see about them, and brought back five mules on which our baggage was loaded, a job that took about an hour and a half, so we didn’t get started till nearly 10 o’clock. A blazing hot 5 mile walk up the valley brought us to the foot of the 4000ft ascent to Tragbal, our destination for that day. There we waited for the mules, which were very slow in coming, and for breakfast which we didn’t get till one o’clock.
The road ascends the mountain spur in mile long zig zags, but went straight up the Kud, a very perspiring climb of 2½ hours. Tragbal is just a camping place at the edge of thick forest, and on the shoulder of the spur of which we had come. A wonderful view from here. The whole of the Vale of Kashmir with the Woolar Lake in the near distance, and the Pir Punjál range in the far, lies stretched out beneath us. Steep pine slopes face us across the Erin Nullah, reaching up to the rocky summits of Mt. Hara Mûk (17000ft).
This night we were guests of Mr and Mrs Oliphant of the Kashmir Telegraph Service (Superintendent) who hospitably entertained us at dinner and breakfast and a tent, not to mention our much looked for tea on arrival.
The next morning, Wednesday 4th, had Choti Haziri at 6.30, packed and got the mules and baggage away about 9. A jolly fresh morning after rain at night. Pleasant sound of dogs, cocks, rooks etc. Light clouds floating along the sides of the green forest clad hills around. After breakfast with the Oliphants, we started off. The first 3 miles or so zig zagging up through pine forest, then out onto the grassy uplands towards the top of the Rajdiamgan Pass 11570 ft. Passed strings of camels and ponies carrying the supplies to Gilghit. There are some 80 camels and 800 ponies working the transport from Bandipur to Gilghit. It clouded up so there was not much view of the mountains.
Beyond the top, and descending, the flowers along the whole way were lovely. In some places the whole mountainside was yellow with ragwort, yellow potentilas. Further down, larkspur, columbine, crimson potentila, small pink and blue balsam. Here and there were white and red flowering thistles, light blue poppies, roses, purple loosestorfe (?) and masses of yellow balsam. We descended about 6 miles and then sat beside the stream to eat the eggs and bread and butter we had in our pockets, and to bathe our feet. This near the Gurais rest house
On again at 2.45 and about 4 miles down crossed the Zedhuska stream and followed the old road through the Kansilwan Merg - a lovely walk. Kept along the old track along the left bank of the Kishanganga River through forest where we found wild raspberries and blackcurrants.
The track came to and end, and entailed a rough clamber down to the road again, which we struck near the bridge, by which the road, which had followed up the further side of the river ,crossed back to the left bank. A fine view here from the bridge of Mnt Changa which Albert, Julian and I had tried to climb when we were at Gurais a few weeks ago. At about 7 o’clock we arrived at the bungalow of Mr Mitchell, who has charge of the Gilghit road. Mr and Mrs and two little girls live at Gurais all the summer, and have an enclosed meadow, kitchen garden, fowl houses etc.
They had two tents pitched and elegantly furnished for us. The next morning, Mitchell, Neve and I rode about 4 miles up the valley before breakfast to arrange with the lambadar (headman of the village) about our further transport. In the evening 2 ladies, officers’ wives, and a Colonel Unwin, who are staying at Gurais came in for badminton. It seemed rather odd being at an afternoon party and eating raspberries and cream in such an out of the way place.
Sunday, October 18, 2009
Two
Dák Bungalow. Scardu.
Thursday, August 22nd 1895. Baltistan.
On Friday morning, 16th, 5 ponies were brought round, and together with Neve’s old white pony, which was coming with us, were loaded up, and started off early. We have about 12 Coolie-loads of stuff with us, including (1) a small double fly tent, and a smaller tent for our cook and general factotum, Gulám Mahomed by name, a down-country man, of very mild appearance, (2) a holdall containing my bedding and clothes (3) Neve’s ditto, (4 & 5) large baskets of medicines, one for a missionary at Shigar, where we are going (6) Kilter (leather covered basket with books etc) (7, 8, 9) Kilters and bags of food stores and cooking utensils (10, 11, 12) camp beds, camera, oil, servants’ bedding, ice axes, tent poles etc etc.
It was a wet morning, so we waited till 12.30, and then made a start on ponies provided by Mr Mitchell.
The first six miles were up the Gurais Valley, very fertile, about a mile wide between very steep mountain slopes of green grass and very red-coloured rock. At the end of the valley, the road turned sharp north, still following up the left bank of the Kishanganga stream.. The entrance to this section of the Kishanganga Mullah is very fine. Magnificent rocks rising precipitously on either side to the height of 5000 feet.
In the next 20 miles the valley is bounded on the west side by hills with steep grassy slopes. On the east they are covered with pine forest, with now and then a cliff face rising several 100 feet from the river bed.
The road crossed the river several times. Every few miles, where the valley widened out a little, were villages and cultivated fields. After riding about 9 miles, we found our pack ponies unloaded by the road side, waiting for a sheep which the headman at Gurais had promised to provide, but failed to do so. There we sent back our 2 ponies, had some tiffin and walked on. We met many camels, besides trains of ponies on their way back from Gilghit, also mules and bullocks.
That night we stopped at a small Dák Bungalow (note by Stephen T-B: dak bungalows provide simple way-side accommodation for travellers - some more primitive than others) called Pishwari, and were glad we hadn’t to camp that night in the rain.
This bungalow is the best on the road, substantially built and boasting glass windows. It contained, like most others, 2 rooms with walls whitewashed and mud floors, fire places, and little bathrooms behind. We had a fire lighted, but the smoke apparently objected to going up the chimney, so the atmosphere became rather thick.
Gulám Mahomed, who is a very slow person, didn’t get our dinner served till 10 o’clock, after we had already given up hope. He did the cooking in the next room, in a dense atmosphere of smoke, while the 3 pony men sat round watching the proceedings.
Next morning, Saturday, we got away about 9 o’clock and marched six miles to Mini Merg (now Minimarg), where the valley widens out to about a mile. Here was a telegraph office, at which we called, and found the 3 clerks just about to be relieved and go down country, after spending the winter here. They had had a pretty poor time of it. The snow for 4 months was lying 8 feet deep, during which time they had to keep the line open. The next office on one side is 24 and on the other 56 miles away, so they hardly saw a soul all winter and got no fresh food. They were delighted to be getting away. We stopped there an hour or so, and at their invitation partook of breakfast: tea, ship’s biscuits - the hardest things I have ever eaten - with fish paste. They also presented us with a leg of mutton, which, failing our sheep, we were grateful for, as we only had 3 small chickens to last us 4 days.
From Mini Merg, the road turned up a side valley enclosed by granite mountains on either side, the green slopes being strewn with debris of rock.
Sir Martin Conway, in his book, described the scenery here as resembling Scotch scenery on a large scale.
A great granite wall blocks the valley at the end where the next rest house is situated at the foot of a high pass, the Burzil leading up to Gilghit. It is 16 miles from the last one and stands at 11300 feet above the sea, so it was cold at night.
The next morning, Sunday, 18th August, the mountains were all covered with clouds, but as the sun got up, the clouds began to melt away, one granite peak after another looming into sight, the tops just covered with fresh fallen snow.
From this point we left the Gilghit road and took a path to the right which zig zagged up the rough hill side for 1500 feet, and brought us into a bare stony valley without a vestige of a tree of any description. Passing the head of it, we descended gradually into a broad green vale called the Chota Deosai. Enclosed on the further, North side, by a range of bare brown hills. Our way led up a spur of these hills to another pass a little over 1400 feet, from which there was a fine view of the Chota Deosai and long vistas of mountains.
A keen cold wind was blowing there, so we didn’t wait long. Just beyond the summit of the pass we came upon a lovely blue lake about half a mile long. It was rather rough going here as the pass was strewn with large pebbles and boulders..
Beyond this range we were crossing lie the Deosai Plains, a tract of land about 30 miles across in all directions, and from 12 to 13 thousand feet above sea level. Part of it rolling moorland, and in other parts hills, more or less rocky ( a sort of Dartmoor). It is well watered by streams which flow along strips of green grass land, but away from the steams the country is generally bare of any vegetation and just covered with loose stones. There are a good many hardy sort of flowers about, and it is the home of marmots. They are about as big as large hares, and have splendid brown fur coats. You see them sitting on their hind legs at the mouth of their burrows, with their fore legs hanging straight down in front, and making a loud whistling noise. I got quite close to several by stalking. They scuttle down their holes at one’s approach, but quickly come out again when one is passed.
Well, this is the sort of country we had to track over for 2 or 3 days, and I shouldn’t care to live there for long. On the pass we met a party of Baltis, small ugly looking men, with round cloth caps and garments and elfin locks standing out on each side of their heads, and carrying enormous baskets full of dried apricots which they were taking down to the plains. They all stopped as we passed, resting themselves on short crossed-topped sticks, and saluted us with “Ju”.
At 12.30 we halted for breakfast, having kept ourselves going since starting with 2 Kola biscuits each and some dried apricots which we got from the Baltis.
After refreshing the inner man, we joined in a short morning service, the day being Sunday. It was very cold and hailing and later on we came in for a sharp snow storm. We marched about 18 miles that day, and camped that evening by a stream at a place called Chanda Kut, where was a collection of about half a dozen stone shelters which the Baltis use when crossing the Deosai. They merely consist of a little semi-circular wall built of large rounded stones, about 2 feet high, and facing the windy quarter. In these the Baltis sleep, sitting with their faces behind their knees. It was very cold at night, and I found the stream frozen over when I went to have a wash in the early morning. It was a lovely morning: a perfectly clear blue sky, and everything that could, gleaming and sparkling.
On a low place in the near hills there appeared what seemed to me at first to be an enormous lump of pure white marble. In reality it was the upper 10,000 feet of Mnt Nanga Parbat (26,000 feet) some 60 miles away.
This day we marched 17 miles over the plains, having to cross several streams. Two I crossed on Neve’s old pony, one on a pony man’s back and one I forded. As before, we had breakfast off to Kola biscuits about the size of a gingerbread nut, and halted for tiffin at 3 in the afternoon. Kola is wonderfully sustaining.
At one place there was a view of the whole plateau which seemed to be girt right round by rugged mountains, some of the peaks being covered with snow, but none, I think, more than 18,000 feet.
That night our camp was at another place of shelter, Ali Malek (“Ali Malek Mur” according to Neve’s account in his book) by name, where a good many Baltis were stopping for the night. Unlike the Kashmiri, though very poor, they are an honest and respectful lot.
Two official persons from Scardu were at this place, having come to meet a British officer who was behind us, and they had orders to assist us if they met us, so we got some milk and meat from them. (in Neve’s account, they were sent specifically to meet him and his party).
As there is no fuel of any kind on the Deosai, we had to bring all the fire wood we wanted with us from Burzil.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
