for more than a mile, during which space it gradually
narrowed by the encroachments of the cliffs, covered
with an accumulation of very large granitic boulders,
which seemed to have fallen on it from the mountains
behind.
As I approached Tolti the valley of the Indus became
much more rugged and narrow. A long gentle ascent
to a ridge more than a thousand feet above the bottom
of the valley, but which dipped abruptly to the river,
occupied the latter part of the march. At Tolti the belt
of cultivation is very narrow, just skirting the river on
very narrow platforms of alluvium, which are irrigated
by artificial canals carried with considerable labour between
the fields and the mountains. Tolti was the most
gloomy village which I had yet seen, the precipitous
mountains forming a circle all round it, and almost shutting
out the fight of day. The bird’s-nest fort in the
ravine behind the village, perched on the top of a rock
(in a most untenable position, though probably well suited
for defence against sudden attack), accorded well with the
gloomy aspect of the place. The temperature was here
considerably lower than in the more open valley, as large
patches of snow lay still unmelted in the fields, though
four days had elapsed since its fall. At Gol, two days
before, it had quite melted. On a bank a mile or two
below Tolti, I saw a few trees of Populus JEv/phratica,
just recognizable by a few withered leaves which still
remained on the tree.
From Tolti, I made three marches to Tarkata, a small
village on the Indus, six miles below its junction with the
river of Dras. The general aspect of the valley of the
Indus was but little changed in this distance, notwithstanding
a very long and remarkable bend of the river
above Kartash, in which its direction is to the eastward
of north. From Tolti, the easiest road in an upward
direction crosses the Indus, and proceeds on the right
bank; but to avoid the labour of crossing, I suppose, my
guides conducted me by a road on the left bank. On
this side, the lower part of the valley is so steep as to
be impracticable; and I found it necessary to ascend at
once from Tolti on a stony ridge, almost directly away
from the river. The ascent was long and fatiguing;
the ridge being capped, in the same manner as that
above Kunes on the Shayuk, with masses of alluvium.
The ridge was more than 1500 feet above the river,
and its upper part was covered with snow, through
which the path lay for four or five miles, after which it
descended very abruptly to the river, which had been
in sight almost all the way, generally running among precipitous
rocks, but with a few villages scattered at intervals
on the northern bank. After regaining the bank
of the river, the road was for five or six miles nearly
level, passing opposite the village of Kartash, with a fort
on a bill. Here still resides the Rajah Ah Sher Khan,
the most intelligent of the princes of Balti; though
now past the prime of life, he still retains the intelligence
and kind hospitality for which he is so deservedly
praised by Vigne.
Kartash being situated at the northern or lower end
of the great bend of the Indus, and in an extremely
narrow part of the ravine, is a most sombre-looking
place. It is possible, however, that in summer, when