SIKHIM AND BHUTAN
is a curious phenomenon and would be well worth investigation, but its solution will, I think, require the study of experts in such matters. This glacier ends at an elevation of 12,100 feet in an ice cliff, from a cavern in which the Rungnu takes its rise, and here my worst difficulties began.
The cliff was topped with débris and boulders of every size just on the balance, which at any moment might go down with a crash to the bottom, and it was no easy matter to climb down myself without bringing tons and tons on the top of me, and more difficult to get all my coolies and baggage down. Only one man could come at a time, a long process, but it was eventually carried through without mishap. At the foot of the ice cliff I pitched my camp in the midst of rhododendrons and pines.
Looking directly up the valley was the end of the glacier I had just descended, gloomy and forbidding, and on the right, to the north, was the limit of the glacier from the 19,000-foot gap, adding to the scene of desolate grandeur; for I think there can be no more wild and desolate scene than these moraines, in which the large glaciers end in utter confusion, giving the impression of a battlefield where giants and titan monsters have torn up huge masses of rock to hurl at one another, with the constant fall of stones as the ice melts, and the weird feeling that everything in addition is quietly though imperceptibly on the move.
On close examination, the ice is very beautiful, and the ice caves out of which the river rushes are magnificent. The colouring of the ice was lovely, varying in every shade of green and from pale turquoise blue to almost black in the depths of the caves, with opalescent tints where the sun’s rays struck its edges. Immediately surrounding me was a carpet of the Alpine vegetation, so lovely in these hills, and amongst the undergrowth I found oak and silver ferns, anemones, primulas, gentians of every shade of blue, buttercups, violas and innumerable other flowers,
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