An April Climb in the Himalayas. 131 



AN APEIL CLIMB IN THE HIMALAYAS. 



BY GEOEGE E. BULGEE, 

 Captain, 10th Eegiment. 



The morning of April 6 th, 1867,, looked rather more promising 

 than usual.* The sun peeped out at intervals from the light 

 cumuloid clouds that screened the eastern heavens ; and even 

 the white peaks of the snowy range were faintly visible when 

 we started from our residence on the west side of Jella Pahar, 

 with the intention of walking to the summit of the great 

 mountain called Sinchul, distant, perhaps, some six or eight 

 miles from Darjeeling, and 8600 feet above the level of the 

 sea. This noble hill — one of the loftiest in British Sikkim — 

 is a grand and striking object from any point of view ; and its 

 numerous spurs and ramifications furnish nearly all the greater 

 summits in the neighbourhood, upon which are built the sta- 

 tions of Jella Pahar and Darjeeling, and the settlements of 

 Leebong, Tukvar, Dooteriah, Senadah, and Hope Town. 



Having 1 crossed the ridge of Jella Pahar, we found our- 

 selves in the main road, leading, with a gentle slope, from a 

 dip in the mountain called the " saddle" to the Sinchul bar- 

 racks, which are situated fully sis hundred feet higher up. 

 But before we had gone very far, great piles of mist began to 

 rise from the khuds and valleys below, ever and anon shutting 

 out the view of all objects beyond a hundred yards, and 

 threatening, ere long, to shroud the entire prospect, for the 

 remainder of the day, in a dense mantle of heavy cloud. 



The road winds slowly upwards, passing through the 

 mutilated remains of glorious forests, that once overspread 

 this mountain -side from base to summit, but which now, alas, 

 in the vicinity of the highway and the military station, are 

 very nearly obliterated from the soil that fed and nourished 

 them, for, perhaps, thousands of years before the axe or the 

 clearing-fire brought destruction amidst some of the fairest 

 scenes on earth. But, even here, all the trees are not yet gone, 

 and aged giants of towering height and huge proportions, 

 gnarled, moss-covered, green with orchids, and festooned with 

 climbers, still stand, among the unsightly stumps of their 

 departed brethren perfect marvels of magnitude, grandeur, 

 and solemn majesty. 



The walk to Sinchul is, to me, a somewhat melancholy one, 



* The weather at Darjeeling and its vicinity has, this year, been almost con- 

 tinually cloudy since the end of March, as, possibly, before that time also. 



