From Shekar our route differed slightly from Colonel Howard-Bury’s. He had taken the direct road to Tingri, but our objective was the Rongbuk. Therefore we crossed the Arun for the first time, and, crossing by the Pang La, descended into the Dzakar Chu. This was one of the pleasantest marches that we had made. The country was new—even Mallory had only been over part of it. The Pang La (meaning “the Grass Pass”) was altogether very interesting, and from its summit, where we all collected and lunched, we had again a fine view of Everest, and on this occasion the mountain was almost clear of snow and gave one a very different impression. We here recognised the fact that Everest, on its North face, is essentially a rock peak. Unfortunately for us, it did not remain clear of snow for long, rough weather again coming up; the next time we saw it we found it again clothed from head to foot in snow. Four marches from Shekar found us at Rongbuk, the final march from Chodzong to the Rongbuk Monastery being extremely interesting. There is only one word for it: the valleys of Tibet leading up to the Rongbuk Monastery are hideous. The hills are formless humps, dull in colour; of vegetation there is next to none. At our camp at Chodzong, however, on the hillside opposite our camp, there was quite a large grove of thorn-trees. We had visions of a wood fire very quickly damped when we were told that this grove was inhabited by the most active and most malicious of demons, and that he would promptly get to work if we interfered and carried away any sticks from his grove. The Upper Rongbuk Valley is an extremely sacred valley; no animals are allowed to be killed in it. In fact, the great Mani at the mouth of the valley opposite the village of Chobu marks the limit beyond which animals are not allowed to be killed. We were told that if we wanted any fresh meat it was all to be killed lower down the valley and carried up to us. The Tibetans themselves live very largely on dried meats, both yak meat and mutton. I have never tried it myself, and its appearance was enough to put off anyone but a hungry dog, but I am told that when cooked it is by no means bad. Most Tibetans, however, eat it raw in its dried state. I bought quantities of both sorts for the porters. They cooked it as they would cook fresh meat, and it seemed to suit them very well. For the sake of their health, however, I gave them, whenever possible, fresh meat, and with the very finest results. [Illustration: RONGBUK MONASTERY AND MOUNT EVEREST. ]