ABSTRACT
On March 29th, we suddenly emerged from the forest on to an open grass-covered terrace whence we first saw the snow-clad mountains of Zayul ahead. That afternoon we crossed the river by rope bridge. The Lohit is here sixty yards wide and the rope sagged badly in the middle. But the natives tightened it till it had a definite slope downwards from our bank. We lubricated it thoroughly with our excess cooking oil and shot across the river at high speed, landing on the other side with a bump. That night we camped in the first Tibetan village.
