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We climbed straight up from the camp over a mountain ridge to Litsimi on the far side. The hill was a continuation of the Helipong range and was just over 8000 feet high. Near the summit the forest was even denser and wilder than that at Helipong. Once again there was the same undergrowth of small thorny bamboos and the same enormous trees towering up into the clouds. Mist hung over the range and dripped from the trees. It was dark and mysterious in this damp forest. Our feet sunk into the black loam deep with centuries of decaying leaf-mould. Hoary trees, like those that plucked at Snow White's clothes with gnarled fingers, spanned the road. Their branches were dripping with moss. Enormous trees had fallen sideways with age but were held up by straining lianas like anchor chains covered in seaweed. At one place on the path we saw a line of fresh tiger pug-marks each bigger than my hand. Such forest still seems to belong to the beginning of time. One felt very small, very lost. There was no sound of birds or animals, no village was near and we seemed to be moving through a lost world. |
