Thursday, May 30, 1929
Continued on our way up the Sind, arriving at Ganderbal just after noon. After lunch we began to make plans for an excursion to a mountain. Abdulla had elaborate plans about a pack pony, etc. We soon knocked those ideas out of his head and suddenly decided to go right away. Lussoo threw some spuds, etc. into our knapsack while Abdulla went out to get ponies. We grabbed up our blankets and in a half hour were on our way. Abdulla we left behind, much to his disappointment. On we rode up the Sind Valley, mountains towering on either side. Those on the right were thickly covered with pines, while on the left broad gullies ran up between the mountains and down these tore snow-torrents, emptying into the Sind. The mountains were almost bare of trees. Cultivated fields stopped at the mountain foot where the land finally became too steep to till. Above this, shrubs and weeds grew among the rocks.
Out of Ganderbal we passed between rice fields, coming shortly to a willow-shaded road with flooded fields on both sides. After crossing the river over the Wild Bridge, the valley became desolate and rocky for the most part. Every few hundred feet or less, swift streams of ice-cold water rushed under the road—or over it—and hurried out to the already overflowing Sind. It was a great trip and we had lots of fun on the ponies. But after 12 miles we came to Kangan, our journey’s end. It is a tiny village of a few houses—if you can find them. The DB is quite respectable—faces the river and has a large yard. There is no food there, though; for that matter, in town either except milk, eggs, and biscuits. Thus we set to work and cooked up some eggs (@ 15¢ a dozen) and vegetables. The only other guests were a British officer from Cape Town, his wife and daughter. This latter was rather nice-looking, could ride a horse, and looked lonely—like she wanted to come over and join our camp-fire gang. But we let her look and I decided to make friends the next day—but they left for Ladakh—lucky devils.