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THE RETURN JOURNEY.

Camp Three. 12th June.

At Camp Four we tied everything up in one bundle, except the sleeping-bags, which we carried in our packs. Hauled the bundle sledge fashion down the glacier plateau to the first position of Camp Four. Tipped it over the rock cliff. Packs followed it. Descended the subsidiary couloir and collected the kit. Repeated the above process down the main couloir and arrived on the East Kamet Glacier. Opened up the bundle (a tent) and found everything very battered, but no serious damage done. Then began relaying the kit to site of Camp Three. Pitched camp at sunset.

Base Camp. 13th June.

Taking bed-bags only, set off from Camp Three at 8.30 a.m. for Base Camp. Long, hard march. Halted at site of Camp Two and ate the last of the biscuits. Kept swallowing handfuls of snow to quench our thirst; had to take a chance on toothache. The changed conditions in formation of the ground due to the rapidly melting snow made it difficult to keep to the right route. After what seemed eternity reached Base Camp. Our arrival gave Syd a shock. It was not that we were unexpected, but our faces were horribly mutilated through the effects of the sun and wind at high altitudes. Skin peeled, noses resembling tomatoes and lips swollen and cracked. More fearsome in appearance than serious in effects. Rather painful though. Syd soon had some hot tea ready and a huge pile of chaupatties ready cooked. How welcome was that meal. No mail. Syd says it had not reached Bampa during the time he was there. Sat up late round fire yarning. Tired but happy.

Niti. 14th June.

Pinkie and myself, with three of the porters, left the Base Camp for Joshimath. The porters remaining at the Base Camp are to go up to Camp Three and collect the kit we left there. Syd and Johnny will then follow us down to Joshimath. Reached Niti after a very tiring march.

Bampa. I5th June.

Arrived here at 12 noon. Feeling very tired, we decided to stay and not move on to Malari as had been our original intention. In the evening we moved into the village square, where we made the acquaintance of some of the locals. Our quarters here are situated in an old mud hut kindly placed at our disposal by the local " big-wigs." Read the newspapers which Lieut. Kohli of the survey party sent over. Very interesting, for they are the first we have seen for a month.

Malari. 16th June.

During the march to-day we rather startled the odd villagers we passed on the track. Cannot wonder at this, for with our peeled faces and beards, somewhat torn clothing and clumsy-looking climbing boots, our appearance, to say the least, is not very prepossessing. We are making for Joshimath as quickly as possible in order to get everything settled by the time the others get down. Plenty of cows around here, but milk unobtainable. Asked a local why. " Sub chiz cows Sahib, kuchh nay grass: khana " (Hindu). English: " Yes, there's plenty of cows but very little grass." A simple but very true explanation. Obtained some rice from the village and boiled it, using the last of the Horlicks as milk. It went down well.

Roadside near Tapoban. I7th June.

Taking our sleeping-bags, pushed off at 5 a.m. Stopped near Surai Tota to make a meal. Started to make chaupatties. Very amateurish attempt. Gentleman from Bhutia Camp close by offered to help us out. Accepted his offer and he soon had some good chaupatties cooked. Business-like young woman appeared with two eggs which she desired to sell to us at eight annas each (nine-pence each). Eventually bought them for four annas each. The whole camp, including some nondescript dogs, now came over to have a look at us. One old fellow brought over a yellow evil-looking liquid which he wanted Williams, whose face looked rather ghastly, to use. It smelt vile, but not liking to offend the old chap we promised to use it later on. Continued the march at 2 p.m. At dusk we had reached four or five miles below Surai Tota and decided to camp for the night. Moved into clump of trees at side of track and prepared to settle down. Pestered by millions of midges we had to move out of it. With sleeping-bags hanging over pur shoulders, feeling dead tired, we trudged on for a mile before we found a suitable sleeping-place on a stretch of ground near the river. CIVILIZATION AGAIN.

Joshimath. I8th June.

Moved off at dawn. Reached Tapoban at 9 a.m. Made for the school to claim stores we had left here on the move up. Grabbed a packet of Player's each and enjoyed a decent smoke. Made our breakfast. Hired some local coolies to carry the stores and started off for Joshimath. Reached the Dak Bungalow at 4 p.m. Got the Chowkidar to heat up gallons of water and indulged in the luxury of a hot bath. Hillier and Bull joined us on the 2ist, and after three days' rest started off down the Alakhanda "Pilgrim Route." The journey was full of interest and charm. We passed many pilgrims toiling up the path bound for the holy shrines of Badrinath and Kedernath. From time immemorial this district has been held sacred by the Indo-Aryan race. It is "the land where Siva dwells and where the Ganges falls from the foot of Vishnu like the slender thread of the lotus flower." Every year come fifty thousand pilgrims, old and young, the strong and the infirm. They toil through the heat of sub-tropical valleys and brave, as they near their goal, the intense cold of the snows. The arduous journey counts for naught, for at these sacred places they pay their respects to the gods and bathe in sacred waters near the birthplace of Mother Ganges. A few of the stronger sometimes cross the high passes that lead to the strange land of Tibet, and visit the sacred peak of Kailas, the hub of the universe. Our two visits to the Garhwal Himalaya have taught us something of the deep human interest of this district. Amidst the awe-inspiring grandeur of mighty Kamet, in the desolate valleys beyond Badrinath, we were moving over ground held in the deepest veneration through countless generations. From the snows around us came the waters of one of the world's greatest rivers, a river upon which millions of human beings depend for their very existence. It is not difficult to appreciate the faith of those who believe that the homes of the gods are amidst the eternal snows, that the mysteries of life and death must be sought for here. Where else can there be such tense human appeal combined with a great adventure, for what adventure can be greater than a struggle against the Himalayas. Amidst the prosaic things of life the memories of those days spent in Garhwal, the beautiful heart of Himachal, will last us for all time.