The Chumbi Valley is one of the richest valleys in Tibet. Yatung lies at a height of 9,400 feet. Apples and pears do well here, and barley, wheat and potatoes are grown in great quantities. At this time of the year the air is scented by the wild roses which grow in large bushes covered with hundreds of cream-coloured and sweetly scented flowers. The villages all look extremely prosperous and an air of peace and contentment seems to pervade the valley. We had to hire a new lot of animals to take us on to Phari--28 miles further up the Chumbi Valley. These all arrived in good time, and by eight o'clock on May 27 our loads were all on their way. Before leaving, I sent off a telegram to Sir Francis Younghusband to announce the arrival of the Expedition in Tibet, a telegram which arrived opportunely at the Anniversary Dinner of the Royal Geographical Society, just at the commencement of dinner.
There is a small garrison at Yatung, consisting of twenty-five men of the 73rd Carnatics. There was also a hospital and a supply depot from which we were able to purchase sugar, flour, ata (coarse native flour) and potatoes, while later on we were able to send back to it for further supplies. We formed quite an imposing procession as we started off: Wollaston and myself on our ponies, Gyalzen Kazi and Chheten Wangdi, our interpreters, on their ponies which they had brought along with them. There was Mr. Isaacs, the head clerk, with a red-coated chaprassi and a syce also mounted, who accompanied us on a visit to two monasteries further up the valley. The path followed close to the banks of the Ammo-chu, which was now a clear stream and contained many a likely pool for fish. The valley was full of delightful flowers; curious ground orchids, with several beautiful varieties of the ladies' slipper grew there; the wild roses, especially the large red one, were very sweet-scented and filled the air with fragrance. Berberis, clematis and some charming dwarf rhododendrons abounded. After going about 3 miles the valley narrowed, and we passed the spot where the Chinese had built another wall across the valley to keep us out. Just above this wall there was a deserted Chinese village, for now all the Chinese have been driven out of the country and are not allowed to go back and live there. High above us on the hillside was the Punagang Monastery belonging to the old sect of the Bhompo's, who turn their prayer wheels the opposite to every one else and always keep to the right of Chortens and Mani walls. This monastery was too far off the path for us to visit it. We soon afterwards passed the large and flourishing village of Galinka surrounded by fields of barley. Here we turned aside to visit the Galinka Monastery, which stood in the midst of the village. This was quite a new building, with a great gilt image of Buddha inside it. The monks were still busy painting pictures of scenes from the life of Buddha on the walls. They apparently did quite a good trade in selling clay images of Buddha in his different forms and postures. These were stamped by a very well cut brass die, which the monks told me had been made at Shigatse. In a side room was a huge prayer wheel some 12 feet high and 5 feet to 6 feet in diameter. It was covered over with painted leather inscribed with the usual Om Mani Padme Hum (Hail, jewel of the lotus flower). They told us the inside was also filled with prayers, and that it contained one and a half million of these, so that each time the wheel was turned a million and a half prayers were said for the person who turned it. After each complete revolution it rings a bell. We were allowed to turn it several times, so that I hope the many million prayers sent up may benefit us. After leaving the monastery, the path rose steeply and the river came down in a series of waterfalls. Above us were masses of pink and mauve rhododendrons, flowering cherries, viburnum, berberis, roses and other delightful shrubs. Soon afterwards, at the entrance to the Lingmatang plain, we crossed the river and rode up a rocky spur formed of great boulders that had some time or another fallen down and blocked up the valley, forming a lake some 2 miles long, but this lake no longer existed, and there was only a flat grassy plain grazed over by yaks and ponies. On the top of the spur was the Donka Monastery in a grand situation, commanding beautiful views up and down the valley. I had hoped to see my friend the Geshe Lama or Geshe Rimpoche, as he is sometimes known, with whom I had lunched last year at the hot springs at Kambu, but unfortunately he was away at Lhasa. He is a man of very great learning and held in high veneration throughout these valleys.