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Alcesti de Righi Diary Entry Friday, 8 September 1905
Sept. 8.—Cloudy and rainy again this morning. No chance of any panorama, so climb up just above the camp, where I noticed last evening an enormous rock the exact face of a gigantic monkey. This I wish to record on a plate. On the opposite side of the Massif of Kabru I noticed another rocky peak, its flat top covered with snow, which greatly resembles the profile of the late Queen Victoria. I have taken several pictures of it with different exposures to make sure of having at least a good one. We hang about till nearly 9 o'clock in the hopes of the mist lifting, but at last have to leave and get across the last part of real ice we shall travel on as far as the Yalung is concerned. Three hours' steady walking see us at the Yalung camp, almost now deserted but for one or two coolies. We stop only just long enough to lunch, and then push on towards Tseram. On the road thence we meet a coolie with a chit from our departed leader saying that he has heard such awful accounts of the Jonzri route that he has decided to follow the Phalloot road. This determines us to follow the awful one. A little lower down we branch off the road to get to the final moraine; as the doctor [Jules Jacot Guillarmod] wishes to make sure about whether this glacier is expanding or retreating. He finds it is the latter. I lose him in the thick mist, and thinking, getting no answer to my co-ee, he has gone further up to find the ice, I wait for nearly an hour in the wet mist. Wet and weary I leave him, and, much to my surprise, on arrival at Tseram, find him and Reymond [Charles-Adolphe Reymond] in their tents, quaffing hot tea. We must have passed one another in the thick mist quite close by. We are now the centre of vision of quite a large crowd. The Nepali guide and his suite, consisting of two Kasi and a Havildar and their train of coolies become a nuisance, crowding in front of one's tent, when a change of soaking wet clothes is a necessity. They are only got rid of by closing the tent flaps. I noticed hundreds of sheep coming in from Kambachen Valley, all on their way to Darjiling for the Puja holidays, so I am informed.
The rain does not stop pouring, but keeps on practically the whole night through. I get terrible dreams of all sorts of disasters, land-slips, avalanches and what not, caused by the bad indigestion I have been suffering from all along, and I suppose by the leaky state of my tent. My sleeping bag enclosed in the waterproof valise is surrounded by quite a small lake when I wake in the morning.
We are undoubtedly near Sikkim. Rain and clouds are the order of the day, very unsatisfactory from a photographer's view. Panoramas being out of the question we have to content ourselves with taking snap-shots of the lively scene around us. All the people here are eager to sell us the little ornaments they have but they are very poor. I did not see a single silver ornament among them except on the Nepaulese Subadar and the two Kasi, who had some gold rings. The rest apparently are satisfied with copper and brass. These are eagerly bought up or exchanged by my Swiss companion. I cannot resist buying another little [??????]. After a hard bargain I get it for Rs. 2-8. We dispose of our now useless native stores, but these are a drag on the market for want of buyers, and have at last to let Rs. 400 of rice, suttu, ghee and tea go for Rs. 80 for the lot. The old goitrous couple now come forward with a claim for compensation for some wood our coolies stole, without our knowledge, from the highest two huts. Ninety-six pice make them quite happy, and set their mass of wrinkles in motion. The satisfaction is mutual. They are glad to receive, we to get rid of the copper coins.
The guide asked for a little chit to say he did all we required, and is made happy by a present of a flexible watch bracelet for his "Missis," all of his party receiving some trinket or other as a remembrance of the Kinchinjunga Expedition.
When 12 o'clock comes so does the rain, but rain or no rain off we start, as if the road is so bad we must get over it as soon as possible. We intend camping under the Kang La to-night and over it to-morrow.
From Tseram we can get a good view of the final moraine. I turn once and say farewell with hope of seeing it again some other time. This time conquered perhaps next time victorious. "Chi lo sa."
As a large herd of sheep passed through this morning, our last remaining sheep took occasion to join them, and we only get them back by the intervention of the Subadar, who, by mistake chooses the fattest of the flock. Just below the little plateau on which Tseram nestles, we cross the tumultuous Yalung Chhu, and in twenty minutes are in the Kang and Semo La Valley. This time we do not cross the stream which rises from the Kangla and flows into the Jhung Chhu but keep to its right aide, and after a steady climb for two hours along a narrow rock bestrewn path through fine pasture land studded with a great variety of Alpine flowers, we eventually reached a suitable camping ground. The billy is soon set aboiling, and the steaming, but not ever hot cup of tea brings joy to tired beings. The weather now takes a wonderfully quick change for the better, and we have a magnificent evening. Not a cloud remains in the blue sky, which gradually deepens in colour. The brown rugged rocky peaks stand above us gilded by the rays of the setting sun. The moon rises early, and floods us with its bringing out the weird shapes where the shadows are deepest. But as the air gets chiller we soon seek refuge in our tents and quietness reigns in the camp, broken now and again by snatches of some Tibetan melody from under the rocks where our followers have taken shelter. We are now on our way home, and their hearts are lighter.
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