Page:The journal of the Royal Geographic Society of London. Volume 34, 1864. (IA s572id13663720).pdf/259

Rh and the Alumpi Loombah. Close to the village are two substantial guard-towers, built at the time when the various rajahs of Baltistan were at war with each other.

Shigarthang, standing on a plateau at the junction of four valleys, gets every wind that blows, and in winter is dreadfully cold, its elevation being 10,200 feet. The sheep of the district are remarkably fine. From this place towards the Alumpi La the valley is open, grassy, and nearly level; the banks of the stream are fringed with willows, and junipers stand scattered about over the lower slopes of the mountain. About 3 miles further on is the junction with a stream from the R’Bunnoch La, distant some six miles; one of the roads to Astore over a small but crevassed glacier. On the 27th we ascended the pass of Alumpi La, where we came upon the skeletons of several men which lay bleaching on the rocks, the remains of some unfortunate coolies who had been overtaken by snow-storms and had been frozen to death. Halfway up the ascent, in a small hollow, was a deep and beautifully clear tarn of water: three more skeletons lay here, their loads on the ground beside them, one being still fastened to its bearer. These spectacles were not very cheering to our party, for they could not fail to remind one that the same fate must happen to ourselves should a snow-storm come on—for it would be impossible to advance or return over such ground as we were now on. Another steep bit of rather more than 1000 feet above the tarn brought us to the pass, where more bones and rags, and broken kiltahs told the dismal tale of many a man’s last hours of suffering, in his unsuccessful fight with the elements. Fifty men had perished here—coolies proceeding from Kapaloo to Gilgit with supplies.

By this time the day had suddenly changed: huge rounded masses of cloud were rolling up over the Deosai plains, and all the high peaks were hid. The Nanga Purbet, which I had hoped to see in all its beauty and grandeur across the valley of Astore, was quite obscured. I found the level of the pass by boiling thermometer to be 15,200 feet. We left this desolate spot as fast as we could, for the clouds were gathering and becoming very threatening: fortunately we cleared the zone of angular débris before the snow began to fall. The wind was gusty, very strong, and cuttingly cold the whole way to Boobin, a small place of three huts, the first habitation on the Astore side. I found the people here very different from those of the other side; the language even had changed, though the Balti predominated in it. And now, when my steps were bent towards Kashmir, I seemed to feel that for the present I had had enough of ice-fields and glaciers. The field-work for the season was at an end.

The valleys of Astore resemble those of Kashmir rather than those of the other side; they are broad and open, and are bounded