versed i t ; but it is now not at all frequented, being
very unsafe, in consequence of the marauding propensities
of the wild Mahommedan tribes who inhabited
the Hunza valley. It was described to me as an exceedingly
difficult road, lying for several days over the
surface of the glacier.
On the 31st of March, I left Iskardo for the last time.
It was expected that the pass between Dras and Kashmir
would be easily accessible by the time I should
reach it. My road as far as Dras was the same as that
along which I had twice travelled in December, and,
except from the indications of returning spring, was
much the same as it had then been. The crops of
wheat and barley in the fields in the Iskardo plain
were an inch or two high, the buds of the apricot were
just beginning to swell, and the willows had almost
expanded their flowers.
At Gol and Nar, where the valley is narrow and the heat
therefore more concentrated, the corn was considerably
further advanced, and in some of the apricot flowers the
petals had begun to expand. Wild flowers had also
begun to vegetate: a violet was in flower on the banks
of streamlets, as well as a Primula and an Androsace.
Above Parkuta, again, the season was more backward.
Large snow-banks, which had descended in avalanches,
still remained in all the larger furrows on the mountainsides.
The river had been discoloured since the day
I left Iskardo, and on the 4th of April, the day I reached
Kartash, it became very much so, and was said to be
rising rapidly.
On the 6th of April, I entered the Dras valley, and
encamped at Ulding Thung, where there were still a
few patches of snow. On the 7th, I marched to Hardas,
ten miles. Here, at about 9000 feet, spring had scarcely
commenced. The fruit-trees showed no signs of vitality;
and though the fields had been ploughed, the grain had
not yet begun to vegetate. The valley of the Dras
river begins to expand at the village of Bilergu, four
or five miles above Ulding. As soon as there is enough
of level space, beds of conglomerate, and more rarely
of fine clay, appear along the river. Round the village
of Bilergu, the poplars, willows, and apricots are as numerous
as in the valley of the Indus; but beyond it,
the inclination of the valley is considerable, and at
Hardas there were but few trees. Above Bilergu the
quantity of snow increased considerably, and the contrast
between the sides of the valley was very striking !
at Hardas, the shady slope was quite white, while that
facing the south had only a few patches of snow.
On the 8th of April, I marched to Karbu, eight
miles. As I advanced, I found much more snow; but
the road was in general free, except in the ravines where
snow-slips had descended. On the latter part of the
day, these were universal in all the ravines, and were
frequently of great depth, and so soft as to be difficult to
cross: on the least deviation from the beaten path, I sank
to the middle at every step. These avalanches were cut
off abruptly by the river, forming cliffs of snow fifteen
or twenty feet high, in which the structure and development
of the mass by successive slips, alternating with
falls of snow, could be distinctly made out. One or two
of them still crossed the river, which flowed below the