Mount Everest, the Reconnaissance, 1921. George Mallory

and diseases of the feet. I possess particular virtue in cases of leprosy, sores and wounds.

      12. The Lama Spring (The Spring of the Lama): My virtues are derived from a large proportion of lime and a little sulphur. I am beneficial in cases of lung disease, tumours, dyspepsia, both chronic and recent, poverty of the blood and venereal diseases.

      Written by Tsewang in the hope that the People of Bhutan, Sikkim, and the surrounding country will bear this in mind.

      Copied by Tenrab, clearly and exactly, from the original in the Male Iron Dog Year in the first half of the Earth Month.

      After leaving the monastery we had a pleasant gallop across the Lingmatang Plain, after which the valley narrowed again and the path followed close beside the rushing stream. It was a delightful ride through forests of birch, larch, juniper, spruce, silver fir and mountain ash. Never anywhere have I seen birch trees grow to such a size. They were grand rugged old trees that matched the rugged scenery of the gorge. Blue poppies, fritillaries, ground orchids and sweet-scented primulas grew along the path, and mixed up everywhere in the forest were great bushes of R. Cinnabarinum, which varied in shade from yellow and orange to deep red. Wagtails and white-crested redstarts dodged about from rock to rock in the rushing stream, and the clear note of the shrike could usually be heard above the noise of the waters. The weather had luckily kept fine all day, so that we were able to dawdle along and enjoy the scenery and flowers.

      After going about 12 miles we came to the bungalow of Gautsa, situated at a height of about 12,000 feet, and at the bottom of the gorge; here we spent the night. During the night there was heavy rain, and when we woke in the morning, fresh snow was low down on all the hills and within 1,500 feet of the bungalow. However, the day again proved brilliantly fine. For breakfast we had been given some large wild-goose eggs belonging to the bar-headed goose. Mine I had boiled, and found excellent, though one was sufficient for a meal. Two that the others had were rather passé, and were not equally appreciated. The day's path was at first very stony and climbed steadily uphill beside the torrent of the Ammo-chu. Pale blue iris, yellow primulas, a pink viburnum and a large yellow-belled lonicera grew beside the path, but the rhododendrons were still by far the most wonderful of the flowering shrubs. We passed many big blue meconopsis, and some of these flowers measured fully 3 inches across. Dwarf rhododendrons, only a foot high—some pure white and others pink, continued up until about 13,500 feet, and then the hillsides became purple from another little rhododendron, which looked in the distance like heather and gave the rounded hills quite a Scotch appearance. As we rose higher the flowers decreased in number. Larks and wheatears ran along the ground in front of us, and small tailless marmot rats dodged in and out of their holes as we approached. The distance from Goutsa to Phari was about 16 miles, of which the last 8 miles were over flat country with a springy turf, on which it was a pleasure to be able to canter again after having passed over so many miles of stony roads. Chomolhari, the Mountain of the Goddess, stood up as a wonderful sight with its sharp peak outlined against the clear blue sky. On its summit the wind was evidently very strong, as we could see the fresh snow being whirled off in clouds.

      Phari is an extremely dirty village dominated by a stone fort and lying under the shadow of the great mountain Chomolhari, 23,930 feet high. It is 14,300 feet above sea level, and the climate there is always cold, as it is never without a strong wind. In the afternoon the Jongpen, or Governor of the district, came to call on me. He was a young man with an intelligent and pleasant face, and came from the country between Khamba Dzong and Shekar Dzong, so that he was able to give us much useful information about the road; he promised that he would write to his brother, who was acting as agent for him at his home, telling him to entertain us and give us all facilities in the matters of transport and supplies. He told us that he had received written instructions from the Lhasa Government to arrange for supplies and transport for us, and he promised that he would do his best. I gave him photographs that I had taken last year of his fort, and also of Chomolhari; these pleased him very much, and in return he presented us with a dried sheep which looked mummified and smelt very strongly, but which proved very acceptable to our coolies. It was necessary to stop here for several days as the second party had to catch up, and they too needed a day's rest. Also the transport that was to carry us along to Khamba Dzong would not be ready for several days, so the following morning I went to call on the Jongpen in his fort, where I found him living in some very dark rooms. I presented him with one of the new lever electric torches, which he much appreciated, though at first he and his servants were rather frightened by it. He gave us tea and sweetmeats, and soon afterwards the head-men of all the villages came in, and were given orders about our transport. Their quaint attitudes of respect and their darkly bronzed faces, that just showed up in the light, reminded me forcibly of an old Dutch picture. Some men, too, had been sent from Khamba Dzong for orders and to know when we should be likely to arrive there. In the course of the afternoon Dr. Heron and I rode over to a monastery about 3 miles away where I had been last year, and where I had taken some photographs. Some prints of these I brought back to the monastery, and the monks were very pleased with them. They were in the middle of a service when we arrived, as it was some kind of festival, and the dark temple was illuminated by hundreds of little butter lamps. The monks were all chanting their scriptures, and this they continued to do all the afternoon.

      Chomolhari from the South.

      On returning to Phari, we found that a message had come from the Jongpen to ask us to dine with him the following evening. The change in the climate and the bad cooking had affected the stomachs of all the members of the Expedition, and none of us was feeling very well. Dr. Kellas was the worst, and as soon as he arrived at Phari he retired to bed. The following morning was misty and the ground was all white with hoar-frost, though it was the last day in May; but as I was anxious to get some photographs of Chomolhari we rode, with the Chaukidar as a guide, through the mist across the plain to some hills just to the South of the great mountain; after a few miles we found ourselves above the clouds with the sun shining in a brilliant blue sky. The whole of the Phari Plain was covered by a sea of clouds. On the far side rose the Pawhunri group of mountains, while further to the South, Kanchenjunga towered above all the other peaks, such as Siniolchum, Kabru and Jonsong, all of which stood out very clearly in this brilliant atmosphere. I rode up a delightful little mountain valley full of dwarf rhododendrons and Alpine primulas until I reached a height of 16,000 feet. We then left the ponies and climbed on to the top of the hill, which was about 17,500 feet; from this point we had glorious views of Chomolhari immediately across the valley, while on the other side we looked over to the snowy peaks and ranges in Bhutan far to the South of us. We found the wind very keen at this height, and after taking several photographs we rode back again to Phari.

      Here I found the place full of troubles. Our Coolie Sirdar was, as we were beginning to find out, not only useless, but very mischievous, and he was evidently at the bottom of an attempted mutiny among our coolies, who refused to go on. The Sirdar strongly objected to our interpreters, who were preventing him from fleecing us in the matter of stores and supplies. However, after much talking they were all satisfied. Then it was the turn of the cooks, all of whom the Sirdar had chosen. I should not have minded one or two of these going, as they were very bad cooks and usually drunk, and the fact that all of us had been ill was solely due to their bad cooking; but I could not let them all go, so it was necessary to find out which were the most useless, and this we were able to do in the course of the next few days. Dr. Kellas was getting no better; he refused to take any food, and was very depressed about himself. At Phari I was able to change a certain number of our rupees into Tibetan currency. The then rate of exchange was 33 rupees to 1 sersang—a gold coin—and 4½ silver trangkas to 1 rupee. The trangkas were a thin and very badly stamped coin about the size of a two-shilling piece. We found them, however, to be the most useful form of currency as the gold coin, though much easier to carry, could only be exchanged at a few places, and it was seldom that we met people who were rich enough to be able to change them.

      That night four of us went over to have dinner with the Jongpen. First we were given tea and sweetmeats, followed by strong ginger wine, which was most comforting to our stomachs in their delicate condition. Then came dishes of mutton in varying forms with vegetables and macaroni. They were