from Kinchinjhow to Chango-Khang; following a yak-»
track, which led across the Kinhhinjhow glacier, along
the hank of the lake, and thence westward up a very
steep spur, on which was much ice and snow. At
nearly 17,000 feet I passed two small lakes, on the
banks of one of which I found bees, a May-fly and
g n a t; the two latter bred on stones in the water.
The view from the summit commands the whole
castellated front of Kinchinjhow, the sweep of the
Donkia cliffs to the east, and Chango-Khang’s blunt
cone of ribbed snow over head, while to the west, across
the grassy Palung slopes, rise Chomiomo, the Thlonok
mountains, and Kinchinjunga in the distance. The
Palung plains, now yellow with withered grass, were
the most curious part of the landscape: hemmed in by
this range which rises 2000 feet above them, and by the
Lachen hills on the east, they appeared a dead level,
from which Kinchinjhow reared its head, like an island
from the ocean. The black tents of the Tibetans were
still there, hut the flocks were gone. The broad fosse'
like valley of the Chachoo was at my feet, with the
river winding along its bottom, and its flanks dotted
with black juniper hushes.
Throughout September various parties passed my
tent at Momay, generally Lamas or traders: the
former, wrapped in blankets, wearing scarlet and gilt
mitres, usually rode grunting yaks, which were some'
times, led by a slave-hoy or a mahogany-faced nun,
with a broad yellow sheep-skin cap with flaps over her
ears, short petticoats, and striped hoots. The domestic
utensils, pots, pans, and bamboos of butter, tea-churn,