Twenty four

Tuesday Oct 1st. We left the plain of Dras and entered more or less of a gorge which was made pleasant by a good deal of shrubbery and vegetation on the rocks and along the stream, all gorgeous with autumn colouring. Gustaveson came along with us about 2 miles and then said adieu and then left us to take his solitary journey back to Shigar by the Indus Valley road. He is a brave and devoted soul. He rarely sees a European, and none for several months of the year.
A cold wind was blowing in our faces all the day. We had breakfast by a bridge, and here crossing a spur, we entered a wider valley which was full of juniper, all of bright autumn colours.
Three miles on, we came to Mataigum, the usual stage from Dras. Here are a few native houses, a large serai and a small rest house. Except for a few small fields of grain, the valley and lower hill slopes were grass covered, with pencil cedars and shrubs. A very dreary looking place, hemmed in by these vast hills. It must be a terrible place to live in for seven months of the year. We decided to go on another 8miles to Mechahoi. It would have been a pleasant march but for the cold wind, and later, shower of snow.
The valley got narrower, the stream being in a deep gorge on our right. We were on a glacial moraine which filled the valley right across except for the gorge the stream had made. The once-great glacier now only protrudes a little way from the mouth of its nullah on the left.
Close under its end we reached the rest huts of Mechahoi. There was a flat place close by for camping on, so we pitched our tents.
Looking up the side nullah, we could see 2 snow peaks from which the glacier comes. They looked rather weird in the moonlight.

Wednesday Oct 2nd. When we turned out in the morning, the ground was covered with snow, and before we had finished packing up, snow was falling again, and we had our choti hazir in the khansammah’s tent.
Descended about 50 feet off the moraine to the proper level of the valley. Ahead was a fine looking mountain draped in snow, at the foot of which the stream divided, we taking the left branch. Our path kept along the foot of the slopes on the right; on the left was a level ridge not more than 100 feet high covered with snow, which, getting thinner towards the bottom showed the autumn colouring through the white. The bottom of the valley was about a ¼ mile wide, with swampy grass. There were only trickling streams, which presently we found to be flowing our way, showing that we had crossed the water shed. This pass, being only 11300 ft above sea level must be about the lowest dip in the main Himalayan range.
A mile or two on, the flat valley bottom ends at the sudden drop of 2000 feet to the Sind Valley. The stream goes down a narrow, precipitous gorge which, when filled with snow in the winter and spring is the way of ascent and descent. Here, at the top of the descent, we meet the first birch trees. below are pines.
Looking down and across to the head of the Sind, we saw that all the lower slopes of the mountains are clothed with pines. It is a sort of new world one comes to, and with such suddenness. Just as I reached the top of the drop, there was a flurry of snow and a gust of wind which brought off a shower of leaves from the birch trees, like gold mist with the snow.
The 2000ft descent on a steep and rather slippery path brought us to Battal where there is a rough rest house and some small huts for coolies. It was now raining, making an unpleasant 9 mile march down to Somamerg village. Of the fine scenery, there was nothing to be seen. All about the village was a swamp. There was no question of camping, and our baggage was a long way behind. We were shown a barn-like building which was said to be the rest house, but was evidently, from the state of the floor, used regularly as a cow house. At one end the floor was a bit raised, so we got this scraped clean, more or less, and here, when the baggage arrived, put up our beds. The khamsamah lit his fire on the floor close by, and soon there was a cloud of smoke. the bottom level of which floated about a foot above our beds. One could lie down and be clear of it, but not sit up, so the khamsamah had to be turned out to cook in a very narrow bit of a verandah outside. The cows came home, but found their quarters occupied, and spent the night outside in the rain. Later other native travellers came in, with their ponies, so we were a bit of a party. Fortunately there was room enough.

We found letters at the post office, which brought some cheer to an otherwise rather squalid situation.Thursday 3rd Oct. The clouds hung low and there was some more rain, so one could see little of the very beautiful scenery through which we were passing.
From the valley we ascended some hundreds of feet on to Sona merg (the “Golden meadow”, from the St John’s wort which abound there in summer). An undulating grassy plain, a square mile or more in area, bounded west and north by the vale of the Sind River, on the south by a deep wooded valley down which flows the stream draining the so-called Glacier Valley from a succession of small glaciers that are seen lying between a succession of rocky peaks.
Leaving the merg, the road dropped again several hundred feet to the Sindh which here enters a very fine gorge, the sides rising precipitouslyu some thousands of feet, with pine trees clinging on wherever they can find a hold.
The scenery here is very beautiful, and very grand and wild. The valley bottom very narrow in places, in others widening out a little, is forest, through which the river rushes as a torrent, its course obstructed by great rocks that have fallen from the mountain heights above.
We only marched 15 miles today, to the village of Rewik, where Neve had time do a little work, preaching and doctoring.
We are now among Kashmiris once more who in the villages are mostly Mahomedan.

Oct 4th, Friday. Turned out at 6.30. A bright fresh morning, but a rather cold wind. Enjoyable walk along the hill side with indigo shrubs and trees. The mountains on either side of the valley now getting lower, and the forests greener, but more crimson and pink colouring due to pear trees. Fine walnut trees everywhere, the white shining river running along over its stony bed. Passed Gond, the usual stage and camping place at 4 miles, and two miles further on we crossed the river, though the baggage ponies, which we had exchanged for coolies, kept on the higher road, on the right side.
Another mile or two under the shade of fine walnut trees, the path carpeted with their fallen leaves, and we crossed again to the right bank. While we were sitting down a dog, a sort of pomeranian, came up and seemed over-powered with joy to see us, as white folk. He must have belonged to some sahib and lost him. He followed us some way. Then a long stretch of flat going amongst indigo bushes and trees tinted bright crimson.
Breakfast at 12.30. Some Dogan soldiers passed, coming from Leh. A mile-and-a-half on we crossed the bridge again by a rather long and slender bridge, and came through the dirty village of Haion, where were many bee hives in the walls of the houses. They are in gurehs (large earthenware pots) which are inside the houses, but with their mouths on the outside of the walls for the bees’ entrance. To get the honey, they smoke the bees out and break the pots.
We camped just beyond the village under walnut and willow trees by a small stream. There were bunches of misteloe on the walnut trees, and besides great bundles of hay hung up to store, as elsewhere about here.
As we wanted to makle an early start, we dispensed with our tent, and bivouaced.

Saturday 5th October. Turned out well before dawn and ate choti hizari by the light of the fire over which Khamasamah Gulam Mahomed had made some fat and rather greasy sort pf chappatis which were tasty, sustaining but somewhat indigestible.
The ordinary road to Srinegar keeps on down the valley to the end; we were taking a short cut over the hills to our left. A walk in the sweet of the morning, among fields at first and then through jungly land brought us by a gradual ascent to the foot of the hillside.It was an ascent of about 4000 fet by a steep zig-zagging path through forest to the top - and I went up without a halt.
On the top, the whole of the vale of Kashmir burst into view. Five thousand feet below us lay the Dhal Lake, calm and blue in its frame of green. Beyond were glimmers of the Jhelum River in its winding course. There was the long brown patch of the city, then miles of flat plain melting into the grey-blue of the pine forests of the Pir Punjal range, and above them, the long line of high alps and serrated peaks, now pure white with the the first fall of snow, stretching away to the end of the vale,60 miles away. And above all, a cloudless sky of blue.
A rough scramble down 4000 feet and then an easier descent through jungly land brought us to edge of the lake, where up a little green canal we found Dr Ernest Neve, who had come with a boat and his cook and breakfast,to meet us.
A six mile paddle across the lake brought us to one of the canals, at the end of which we passed through the Dhal Gate into the Chenar Canal. Here,turning left,we pass under the walls of the mission hospital,and in a few minutes,pass into the Jhelum. Another few hundred yards and we are at the nev’s ghat, where we land, and Neve is back home.
For myself, a twenty minutes walk down the bund, along the river, brought me back to the Sheiikh Bagh and Holton Cottage, where I found Cecil and Blanche and Fanny to welcome me, not to speak of Harold and baby Julian.
The first consideratoion was a bath and a change of clothes, and the removal of an eight-weeks’ growth of beard.



END

Posted Feb 22. Letter from my Grandad to his eldest brother, Stafford

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 painting 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.

1895 expedition

Journey with Dr Arthur Neve to Hunza and Nagar, described mainly in letters written en route.
A Trip to Baltistan, 1895.
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.