Crossing the Tang La (17,980 feet) in a driving snowstorm, a long march of 22 miles brought us next day to the bleak village of Tulung, in the upper valley of the Po Chu. As we descended the Western side of the pass the snow-clouds gradually dispersed, disclosing glimpses of the magnificent twin summits of Gosainthan (26,290 feet), 30 miles to the West. Several of our coolies succumbed to mountain sickness on the pass, with the result that my bedding and the kitchen box only reached camp at 9 p.m. On July 15 our road lay for 8 miles along the flat valley of the Po Chu; the river then turns sharply Southwards, passing for 3 miles through a gorge of granite and schist. Bushes of wild currant, gooseberry, berberis and dog-rose here begin to appear, and around the village of Targyeling, where we camped, were smiling fields of mustard and buckwheat, in addition to the usual Tibetan crops of barley and dwarf pea. After a month spent in the bleak Tibetan uplands, it was a relief to pitch our tents in a homely green field, alongside a rippling brook lined with familiar ranunculus, cow parsley, forget-me-not, and a singularly beautiful pale mauve cranesbill, and to feast our eyes on the glorious purple of the wild thyme which clothed the hillsides in great patches of colour. The next day, still following the course of the Po Chu, we reached Nyenyam, a large and very insanitary village which is known under the name of Kuti by the Nepalis who constitute the majority of its inhabitants. These Nepali traders (Newars) have their own Hindu temple in the village. There is also a Nepalese chauki (court-house) with a haqim (magistrate) invested with summary powers of jurisdiction over Nepali subjects; he is specially charged with the settlement of trade disputes, and with the encouragement of Tibeto-Nepalese trade and commerce. As is customary in all important districts of Tibet, there are here two Dzongpens, who by a polite fiction are known as "Eastern" and "Western" (Dzongshar and Dzongnup) respectively. Actually, the functions of the two Dzongpens are identical; the _raison d'etre_ of the double regime being an attempt to protect the peasants from extortion by the device of providing two administrators, who, in theory at least, act as a check upon each other's peculations. At the time of our arrival, those two worthies were so busy preparing a joint picnic that we had considerable difficulty in getting their attention.