After Rather A Severe March Through
Rocky Mountain Gorges, We Reached Chungun, A Little Oasis Of About
Five Acres Of Standing Barley, With Three Or Four Flat-Roofed Houses
Dotted About It In The Usual Tartar Style Of Architecture.
It also
boasted four poplar-trees, standing in a stiff and reserved little
row, evidently in proud consciousness of their family importance
among such rugged, treeless, iron mountains.
It was altogether a refreshing little spot for a halt, after the
savage scenery we had marched through; and pitching our camp in it,
we were not long in introducing ourselves to the little brawling
stream of clear cold water to which it owed its existence.
AUGUST 4. - Started this morning in a mountain mist. Just outside
the village we passed the scene of the fall of an avalanche, which
gave one some faint idea of the enormous forces occasionally at work
among these mountains. It had taken a small village in its path, and
over the place where it had stood we now took our way, among a perfect
chaos of masses of rock, and uptorn earth, trees, &c. The whole ground
was torn and rent, as by the eruption of volcanoes or the explosion
of enormous magazines of powder. Passing this, our path continued
to descend the gorge until about two kos from Chungun, when another
torrent came down to join its forces to the one we were accompanying;
and leaving our old companion to roar its way down to join the Indus,
we proceeded up the valley in the society of our new friend.
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