Nine

After breakfast, Neve and Gustaveson got to work. The people always attend to the preaching, and don’t make any objections, sometimes making remarks of assent. This is the first time any missionary has been up in these parts.
It came on to rain here at night, so Gustaveson took shelter under the outer fly of our tent, and when the water began to come through, came inside and took possession of the very narrow space between Neve’s bed and mine..
Yesterday ( (Saturday 31st) was another shortish march of 11 miles to this place, Arendu, the last village up this valley, but a toughish one over debris slopes, moraine and sandy flats.
Arundu is situated on a moraine, terraced and cultivated, but no trees. It is a compact village, houses all together.
We entered a street, or alley rather, about 4 feet wide, walls of large pebbles on each side.
After going a few yards, we were taken up a ladder to the flat roof, a roof which extended over the whole village - except for the alleyways. On the roof was a sort of second storey

the walls of which were simply made of woven willow branches and withers, and with the exception of one or two separate rooms, the roof of these rooms also stretched over a whole block.
We climbed a ladder to the roof of this wicker-work storey, and walked straight off it on to the ground which, at the back of the village, rises to that level.
Close by was a building called a fort, but I should not have guessed it.
Our camp is in a little field a little above the village.
Just above us, in the mouth of a nullah, down which flows a glacier which ends within half a mile of our tents. It is about 4 miles long, and descends from a 20,000 ft peak. Our height here is about 9700 feet.
A straight spur of this peak crosses the nullah at the top, and is covered by the purest white domes, folds, wrinkled, slopes and precipices of glistening, frozen snow - a lovely sight.
Half a mile up the main valley is the snout of the great the Chogo Longma glacier about 30miles long and ¾ mile wide.. The terminal ice cliff, from 50 to 100 feet high, stands right across the valley. The river rushes out from beneath it. The natives say that the glacier is advancing very rapidly.
Just opposite to us on the further side of the glacier is the entrance to a very narrow gorge, up which we have to go the Nushik Pass.
An old man here is coming up to act as guide - so far as he can.. He was one of the party that 30 years ago crossed the pass to go to Nagar to take a ransom for some Kashmiri soldiers who had been captured by the natives there.
We are taking 30 coolies with us from here, having brought 2 or 3 good men along from villages further back. They are carrying food for 8 days.
Our friend the Wazir produced today some very fine grapes and melons which he had brought from Shigar for us. He has also brought some goats along so we shall have milk. Some men have also been sent on ahead to repair the road a bit.In the villages about here there are fine walnut trees, and very old mulberry trees.
The view from here was very fine. We were just at the mouth of the Basha mullah, and opposite us was the mouth of the Braldo mullah, the mountains to either side rising precipitously to 10000 ft.
The spur between the two mullahs runs back to a peak, rising to 21500 ft above sea level, 13000 above us, and which we had had a good view of as we came along.
Southward, we looked down the broad Shigar valley, flanked by fine mountain, one peak (Hoser Gunga) of pure white snow rising just above our last night’s camping place.
Over the houses and fruit trees of the village on our side of the valley rose many pinacled rocks, the higher points of which were powdered with fresh snow, with masses of snow and small glaciers lying between them.
These peaks looked very impressive seen through a thin veil of cloud.
After breakfast, we marched on, and from here to the next village were preceded by a band of 3, one drum and two side drums, but we dispensed with their music.
As we were going along a shady lane through this village, the lumbadar came up and asked us to stop and see his child, so we sat down in a row on a bank by the side of the road.. and directly after a man came carrying a little girl in a blanket, and plumped her down in front of Neve.
They were soon followed by the mother and grandmother of the child. They sat down by the side of the child to hold her while Neve made an examination, the father holding the child’s hand, and several villagers standing very sympathisingly around. It was rather a striking scene.
After crossing this moraine with its village and cultivation, we crossed a mile or two of sandy plain again, and then up and along a steep slope to reach the village of Chu Trun, famous for its hot sulphur springs.
Over the place where the spring issues is the grave of a Mahomedan saint.
It is in an enclosure, and round it are small bathing pools enclosed by stone walls and wooden palings. Outside are other pools through which the water flows, and so to the river.
The water is greenish but very clear and about 112° Fahrenheit.
Close by was a long but dilapidated rest house surrounded by a courtyard with a verandah on one side, on which we took up our quarters for the night.
The usual crowd came along, and the preaching and doctoring followed.
Before dinner, when I went down, I found the bath occupied by an old Mohammedan priest, so I went to another pool, probably the one used by the women when on 2 occasions in the year crowds gather to worship the saint and to bathe in the sacred water.
While I was undressing, the old priest came to say his prayers to the saint.
It took some time getting into the water, being so hot.
Crops in the field here were white with blossom.
On Friday, the march was a short one, and cool, as the day was cloudy.
We were now entering the deep and narrow valley of the Basha stream.
For most of the way, the path was cut along steep slopes of rock or debris, very rough in some places, and keeping 2 or 3 hundred feet above the river.
The last mile we came to and passed through villages and fields of flowering crops, hay fields and orchards.
The hay was being cut, a long curved knife being used for cutting.
Fields are watered by little channels led from mountain torrents. Very little water is wasted in Baltistan.
Eight miles brought us to the village of Doka, where we camped on a grassy spot amongst great rocks fallen from the heights above.
Here a Capt. O’Brien of the Border Regt. who was shooting about here, turned up with his shikaris and coolies, and joined us for breakfast.
After breakfast, Neve and Gustaveson got to work. The people always attend to the preaching, and don’t make any objections, sometimes making remarks of assent. This is the first time any missionary has been up in these parts.
It came on to rain here at night, so Gustaveson took shelter under the outer fly of our tent, and when the water began to come through, came inside and took possession of the very narrow space between Neve’s bed and mine.