June, 1849. FALL OF BLOCKS. TUKCHAM. 57 



dissipated as in the day-time, the noise of these falls is 

 sufficiently alarming. My tent was pitched near the base 

 of the cliff, and so high above the river, that I had thought 

 it beyond the reach of danger ; but one morning I found 

 that a large fragment of granite had been hurled during 

 the night to my very door, my dog having had a very 

 narrow escape. To what depth the accumulation at the 

 base of this cliff may reach, I had no means of judging, 

 but the rapid slope of the river-bed is mainly due to this, 

 and to old moraines at the mouth of the valley below. I 

 have seen few finer sights than the fall of these stupendous 

 blocks into the furious torrent, along which they are 

 carried amid feathery foam for many yards before settling 

 to rest. 



Across the Thlonok to the southwards, rose the magni- 

 ficent mountain of Tukcham, but I only once caught a 

 glimpse of its summit, which even then clouded over before 

 I could get my instruments adjusted for ascertaining its 

 height. Its top is a sharp cone, surrounded by rocky 

 shoulders, that rise from a mass of snow. Its eastern slope 

 of 8000 feet is very rapid (about 38°) from its base at the 

 Zemu river to its summit. 



Glaciers in the north-west Himalaya descend to 11,000 

 feet ; but I could not discover any in these valleys even so 

 low as 14,000 feet, though at this season extensive snow- 

 beds remain unmelted at but little above 10,000 feet. The 

 foot of the stupendous glacier filling the broad head of the 

 Thlonok is certainly not below 14,000 feet ; though being 

 continuous with the perpetual snow (or neve) of the summit 

 of Kinchinjunga, it must have 14,000 feet of ice, in per- 

 pendicular height, to urge it forwards. 

 . All my attempts to advance up the Zemu were fruitless, 

 and a snow bridge by which I had hoped to cross to the 



