^848.] Narrative of a Journey to Cho Lagan, $*c. 139 



still strong and lively. It was past sunset before we three reached the 

 bottom of the pass, and we then had the miserable prospect of an ex- 

 panse of pure snow covering the whole mountain sides around us, and 

 the valley which extended at our feet as far as could be seen through 

 the obscurity of the cloudy weather and approaching night, and no 

 sign of the rest of our party with the cattle, who had fallen far in the 

 rear, unable to tumble through the snow so fast as ourselves. At the 

 bottom of the hill, a small ledge of bare rock, protruded through the 

 snow, and on this we came to anchor, Bhauna and Rechu attempting 

 to clear a space big enough to lie upon, for we expected that we should 

 have to bivouac there for the night, and were doubting whether we 

 could get one or two Bakus* and Cherasf from the baggage in the 

 rear. But in the course of half an hour or so I was most agreeably 

 surprised by the appearance of the Bhdtias with the cattle floundering 

 down the last steep of the snowy descent ; and one of the party going 

 a little way down the valley found in the wilderness of snow a small 

 oasis of bare stones, a ridge some 100 feet long and ten wide, on which 

 we were right glad to fix our encampment. Verdant meadows, shady 

 groves and hospitable roofs have afforded less welcome resting places to 

 the weary traveller than this little ridge of bare cold ground open to 

 the freezing air. It was night by the time we got the Cheras over our 

 heads, and past nine before Bhauna, with a few remaining scraps of 

 the fuel we had brought with us from Kunti, could accomplish a lota 

 full of greasy tea, on which we consigned ourselves to sleep, too fatigued 

 to miss better refection. 



Thermometer at 9J p. m. 20° ; night very cold. 



1st October. — Thermometer at sunrise (or an hour after it, more 

 likely) 14° outside ; and inside my tent (so to call the two blankets) 

 15° ; I have now experienced what Moorcroft relates on one of his moun- 

 tain passages in Ladak, the moisture of the breath freezing on to the 

 pillow at night , which has also taken some of the skin off my blistered 

 face. At 9 a. m. the Thermometer was 29° ; at this time I was 

 attempting to write my diary, when the first dip of ink at once froze 

 in my pen, and on looking into the Inkstand I saw the contents of it 

 all suddenly congealed in the same way. I found my hands so benum- 

 bed with cold and encumbered with gloves that I could hardly use a 

 * A kind of hill-cloak. f Small blanket-tent. 



