country is uninhabited and impassable. The Ni Mo is clearly the Lamaw tributary of the N'maikha, as "l" and "n" are interchangeable in Chinese.
The district round Pien Ma and I Tung, situated to the north-east of Ch'a Shan, is known to the Chinese as I Shan (hills of the barbarians). The lower country near the N'maikha is referred to by the Chinese as Langsu. I did not meet any Ming Kwang people who had actually been to Langsu, but they all described it as hot, feverish, and inhabited by wild men (i.e., Kachins), who rob travellers, who do not know the use of money, and who are under no sort of control by any Government. The Ch'a Shan and T Shan, however, which seem to comprise the whole of the upper country (on the N'maikha side of the divide) near the various head-waters of the Shweli are constantly visited by Chinese from Ming Kwang.
As I wished to examine the path from the Ming Kwang Valley to Tzu Chu, I moved my camp back on my tracks to the point 5 miles from Ta Chai, where the Hsiao Tang Ho joins the Ta Ho, and, on the 16th March, the first fine day for a week, we marched up the valley of the Hsiao Tang Ho.
This is a wide (2 miles) and beautiful valley, the combination of snow, pine trees, and rich green forests of bamboos on the mountain sides contrasting with the rushing stream and the pastures and bracken by its banks.
There were several large herds of cattle, sheep, and ponies, and in the bracken I shot six brace of pheasants (Stone's) in a very short time. At 3 miles from Ming Kwang Valley, after passing a tumble-down fort with an underground entrance similar to that described above, we came to a point where the Hsiao Tang Valley curved away to the west towards the mountains which we had ascended on the 12th at Ta Ya Kon. Our track, however, continued in a northerly direction along a small stream which flows through a close gorge; then ascending a steep spur we reached the Tzu Chu Ti Pass in four hours—10 miles—from the Ming Kwang or Ta Ho River. The height is 9,200 feet. On the N'maikha side the first village reached is at Tz'u Chu Ti, which is said to be 12 miles from the top of the pass. Tzu Chu Ti consists, I was told, of three small villages of Kachins (one of which is probably the Lagwi of Captain Pottinger's map*), situated on a small stream which flows into the Hparé River. I asked a number of persons if there were any Chinese residents there, or anywhere else on the N'maikha sides of the watershed, but though every one agreed that Ming Kwang men were constantly going over to trade, no one could give me any information of a permanent settlement.
Immediately to the north of the Tzu Chu Pass, and 1,000 feet above it, is a hill on the watershed, which, as it is free from forest, I ascended. From this point there is a view of a steep range jutting out from the divide, and situated apparently between the Hparé and Tz'u Chu streams, which join to form the Khan Sheng River. There is also a wide panorama of forest-clad ranges trending generally in a north-east direction towards the N'maikha. The mountain marked on the Burmah maps as Mien Kawng Pum (Ming Kwang Hill) is between the Ta Ho To'u and Tzu Chu Passes. It was covered with snow in March, but from the China side it is not a very well-defined peak; I even doubt if it is really on the watershed at all, and believe it to be on the N'maikha side. Time and weather did not permit me to visit it, but it must be at least 12,000 feet.
My next move was back to Ta Chu Pa, but owing to torrential rains I took two days to reach my former camp. The Ming Kwang Valley was temporarily reduced to a swamp.
I had made previous arrangements with the Lisaw Headman to provide five porters who knew the road, and would take me over the great divide into the Salwen Valley, a track which was reported (and proved to be) impracticable for mules.
My object was to pass as near as possible to the sources of the Ta Tang, or east branch of the Shweli River, and to find out where the water-divide between the head-waters of the Shweli and the N'maikha joins and becomes merged in the great divide between the Salwen and the N'maikha.
A severe thunderstorm prevented a start being made from Ta Chu Pa before 9:30 A.M. on the 19th March. The Lisaws carried their loads on their backs in bamboo baskets secured to a wooden yoke which was supported on the nape of the neck by a bamboo strap passing over the forehead.
Leaving the track to the Ta Ho To'u Pass and Pien Ma at 1 mile from the Chu Pa stockade, we turned east along a narrow path and ascended through a dark and dank forest. After 2½ hours we emerged on an open ridge running east and closing the head of the Ta Tang Valley from which rises the east branch of the Shweli. To the east in front of us rose the slopes of the great Salwen divide, which stretched north and south as far as we could see; to the left or north of us was dense forest stretching up to a well-defined ridge jutting out from the main divide. This ridge was some 5 miles north of the ridge where we were standing, and the guides asserted, what certainly seemed to be the case, that it was the Ming Kwang N'maikha water-divide.
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The forest between the ridge where we stood and this divide is watered by a small tributary of the Ming Kwang River; accordingly, the Ta Tang Valley does not reach up to the Shweli-N'maikha divide, but there is a bit of the basin of the Ming Kwang River intervening; thus the Ming Kwang River has every claim to be regarded as the true source of the Shweli.
Descending to the brook of Tang Pieng Ho, which flows east for a short distance and then describes a semicircle to the north-east, and flows round to the west to join the Ming Kwang, we attacked the main Salwen Range by a steep and rough path through dense forest, much encumbered by roots of trees. We reached the divide at a height of only 9,400 feet. Then we proceeded along a marshy gully known as Ta Li Shu, the waters of which flow down to the Salwen by Lien Ti, and, after wading across several side streams found no help for it but to camp after six hours march on a wet patch of snow in the middle of the forest. We had much difficulty in lighting a fire, and snow or sleet fell at intervals through the night. The next morning we continued our route in a heavy snowstorm, and, after an ascent of one hour, reached the highest point of the pass at 9,900 feet. The track was full of quagmires and encumbered by roots of trees. The beginning of the descent to the Salwen was very steep and over deep snow: the upper slopes of this, the east side of the range, are covered with very heavy virgin forest. We passed two open patches used as camps, but nowhere on the higher slopes of this pass could more than a dozen men find camping room.
Continuing our descent down a steep spur, with a mountain torrent far below us on the right, we crossed a stream from the left at 7,800 feet, after two hours' descent. From this point there is a very difficult section consisting of steep ups and downs over lateral spurs. The track was at places so steep and slippery that we had to haul ourselves up by clinging to shrubs and roots. After a fatiguing march of five and a-half hours we emerged from the dense upper forests, and, bearing to the north round some grassy spurs, we reached the Lisaw hamlet of Hsiao Ho (7,000 feet) situated in a fold of the hills by a small stream under the shadow of the great range. After a rest in this picturesque little valley we continued the march in a northerly direction by a stiff ascent of a spur to 8,400 feet. From this point we caught a glimpse of the Salwen far away below us.
Though from the crest of the divide to the river is not in an air line more than 6 miles, the difference in altitude is 7,000 feet, and the intervening country is filled with an extremely complicated system of spurs and folds and bays in the mountains, so that the superficial area is large. Between 7,000 feet and 4,000 feet the number of villages and hamlets is very considerable, while the upper slopes are entirely destitute of inhabitants, and the traveller along the river bank at 3,000 feet passes but few villages, a circumstance of which the malarious climate is the probable explanation. The population of this part of the Salwen Valley is chiefly Lisaw, but they mostly speak Chinese and have partially adopted Chinese costume. By the riverside, however, there are remnants of a Shan population, and Chinese households are to be found in nearly every village.
After ascending the spur above Hsiao Ho, we wound along a ridge in a northerly direction and after a long march of eight and a-half hours camped at the Lisaw village of To To, the Headman of which tried to make out that he was a Chinaman—a strange ambition. From this village there is an extensive view of the Salwen-Irrawadi divide range. It stretches in the same well-defined, regular and stately manner as far north as the eye could reach, and seems to have been planted there as a "heaven-made boundary between two Empires. On the range nearly opposite, i.e., west of To To, there is a conspicuous gap or pass.
A well-known track leads from the Salwen at Teng Kong (the village on the right bank immediately below To To) up to this pass, from the summit of which Pi'en Ma (see above) can be reached in a little more than a day, and I was informed that lightly-laden mules can be taken over. I inquired about passes over from the Salwen into the N'maikha Basin further north and was informed that two days' march north of Teng Keng (the village on the Salwen just
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country is uninhabited and impassable. The Ni Mo is clearly the Lamaw tributary of the N'maikha, as "1" and "u" are interchangeable in Chinese.
The district round Pien Ma and I Tung, situated to the north-east of Ch'a Shan, is known to the Chinese as I Shan (hills of the barbarians). The lower country near the N‘maikha is referred to by the Chinese as Langsu. I did not meet any Ming Kwang people who had actually been to Langsu, but they all described it as hot, feverish, and inhabited by wild men (ie., Kachins), who rob travellers, who do not know the use of money, and who are under no sort of control by any Government. The Ch'a Shan and T Shan, however, which seem to comprise the whole of the upper country (on the N'maikha side of the divide) near the various head-waters of the Shweli are constantly visited by Chinese from Ming Kwang.
As I wished to examine the path from the Ming Kwang Valley to Tzu Chu, I moved my camp back on my tracks to the point 5 miles from Ta Chai, where the Hsiao Tang Ho joins the Ta Ho, and, on the 16th March, the first fine day for a week, we marched up the valley of the Hsiao Tang Ho.
This is a wide (2 miles) and beautiful valley, the combination of snow, pine trees, and rich green forests of bamboos on the mountain sides contrasting with the rushing stream and the pastures and bracken by its banks.
There were several large herds of cattle, sheep, and ponies, and in the bracken 1 shot six brace of pheasants (Stone's) in a very short time. At 3 miles from Ming Kwang Valley, after passing a tumble-down fort with an underground entrance similar to that described above, we came to a point where the Hsiao Tang Valley curved away to the west towards the mountains which we had ascended on the 12th at Ta Ya Kon. Our track, however, continued in a northerly direction along a small stream which flows through a close gorge; then ascending a steep spur we reached the Tzu Chu Ti Pass in four hours-10 miles-from the Ming Kwang or Ta Ho River. The height is 9,200 feet. On the N'maikha side the first village reached is at Tz'u Chu Ti, which is said to be 12 miles from the top of the pass. Tzu Chu T consists, I was told, of three small villages of Kachins (one of which is probably the Lagwi of Captain Pottinger's map*), situated on a small stream which flows into the Hparé River. I asked a number of persons if there were any Chinese residents there, or anywhere else on the N'maikha sides of the watershed, but though every one agreed that Ming Kwang men were constantly going over to trade, no one could give me any information of a permanent settlement.
Immediately to the north of the Tzu Chu Pass, and 1,000 feet above it, is a bill on the watershed, which, as it is free from forest, I ascended. From this point there is a view of a steep range jutting out from the divide, and situated apparently between the Hparé and Tz'u Chu streams, which join to form the Khan Sheng River. There is also a wide panorama of forest-clad ranges trending generally in a north-east direction towards the N'maikha. The mountain marked on the Burmah maps as Mien Kawng Pum (Ming Kwang Hill) is between the Ta IIo To'u and Tzu Chu Passos. It was covered with snow in March, but from the China side it is not a very well-defined peak; I even doubt if it is really on the watershed at all, and believe it to be on the N'maikha side. Time and weather did not permit me to visit it, but it must be at least 12,000 feet.
My next move was back to Ta Chu Pa, but owing to torrential rains I took twe days to reach my former camp. The Ming Kwang Valley was temporarily reduced to a swamp.
I had made previous arrangements with the Lisaw Headman to provide five porters who knew the road, and would take me over the great divide into the Salwen Valley, a track which was reported (and proved to be) impracticable for mules.
My object was to pass as near as possible to the sources of the Ta Tang, or east branch of the Shweli River, and to find out where the water-divide between the head- waters of the Shweli and the N'maikha joins and becomes merged in the great divide between the Salwen and the N'maikha.
A severe thunderstorm prevented a start being made from Ta Chu Pa before 9:30 A.M. on the 19th March. The Lisaws carried their loads on their backs in bamboo baskets secured to a wooden yoke which was supported on the nape of the neck by a bamboo strap passing over the forehead.
Leaving the track to the Ta Ho To'u Pass and Pien Ma at 1 mile from the Chu Pa stockade, we turned east along a narrow path and ascended through a dark and
"Exploration on the NK Frontier of Burmah: March to June 1897" by Lieutenant E Pottinger, R.A., published by Government of India.
9
dank forest. After 24 hours we emerged on an open ridge running east and closing the head of the Ta Tang Valley from which rises the east branch of the Shweli. To the east in front of us rose the slopes of the great Salwen divide, which stretched north and south as far as we could see; to the left or north of us was dense forest stretching up to a well-defined ridge jutting out from the main divide. This ridge was some 5 miles north of the ridge where we were standing, and the guides asserted, what certainly seemed to be the case, that it was the Ming Kwang N'maikha water- divide.
The forest between the ridge where we stood and this divide is watered by a small tributary of the Ming Kwang River; accordingly, the Ta Tang Valley does not reach up to the Shweli-N'maikha divide, but there is a bit of the basin of the Ming Kwang River intervening; thus the Ming Kwang River has every claim to be regarded as the true source of the Shweli.
Descending to the brook of Tang Pieng Ho, which flows east for a short distance and then describes a semicircle to the north-east, and flows round to the west to join the Ming Kwang, we attacked the main Salwen Range by a steep and rough path through dense forest, much encumbered by roots of trees. We reached the divide at a height of only 9,400 feet. Then we proceeded along a marshy gully known as Ta Li Shu, the waters of which flow down to the Salwen by Lien Ti, and, after wading across several side streams found no help for it but to camp after six hours march on a wet patch of snow in the middle of the forest. We had much difficulty in lighting a fire, and snow or sleet fell at intervals through the night. The next morning we continued our route in a heavy snowstorm, and, after an ascent of oue hour, reached the highest point of the pass at 9,900 feet. The track was full of quagmires and encumbered by roots of trees. The beginning of the descent to the Salwen was very steep and over deep snow: the upper slopes of this, the east side of the range, are covered with very heavy virgin forest. We passed two open patches used as camps, but nowhere on the higher slopes of this pass could more than a dozen men find camping room.
Contiuning our descent down a steep spur, with a mountain torrent far below us on the right, we crossed a stream from the left at 7,800 feet, after two hours' descent. From this point there is a very difficult section consisting of steep ups and downs over lateral spurs. The track was at places so steep and slippery that we had to haul our- selves up by clinging to shrubs and roots. After a fatiguing march of five and a-half hours we emerged from the dense upper forests, and, bearing to the north round some grassy spurs, we reached the Lisaw hamlet of Hsiao Ho (7,000 feet) situated in a fold of the hills by a small stream under the shadow of the great range. After a rest in this picturesque little valley we continued the march in a northerly direction by a stiff ascent of a spur to 8,400 feet. From this point we caught a glimpse of the Salwen far away below us.
Though from the crest of the divide to the river is not in an air line more than 6 miles, the difference in altitude is 7,000 feet, and the intervening country is filled with an extremely complicated system of spurs and folds and bays in the mountains, so that the superficial area is large. Between 7,000 feet and 4,000 feet the number of villages and hamlets is very considerabie, while the upper slopes are entirely destitute of inhabitants, and the traveller along the river bank at 3,000 feet passes but few villages, a circumstance of which the malarious climate is the probable explanation. The population of this part of the Salwen Valley is chiefly Lisaw, but they mostly speak Chinese and have partially adopted Chinese costume. By the riverside, however, there are remnants of a Shan population, and Chinese households are to be found in nearly every village.
After ascending the spur above Hsiao Ho, we wound along a ridge in a northerly direction and after a long march of eight and a-half hours camped at the Lisaw village of To To, the Headınan of which tried to make out tha the was a Chinaman--a strange ambition. From this village there is an extensive view of the Salwen-Irrawadi divide rauge. It stretches in the same well-defined, regular and stately manner as far north as the eye could reach, and seems to have been planted there as a "heaven-made boundary between two Empires. On the range nearly opposite, ie., west of To To, there is a conspicuous gap or pass.
A well-known track leads from the Salwen at Teng Kong (the village on the right bank immediately below To To) up to this pass, from the summit of which Pi'en Ma (see above) can be reached in a little more than a day, and I was informed that lightly-laden mules can be taken over. I inquired about passes over from the Salwen into the N'maikha Basin further north and was, informed that two days' march north of Teng Keng (the village on the Salwen just
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