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THE FIGHT FOR EVEREST: 1924
By Lieutenant-Colonel E. F. NORTON, D.S.O.
AND OTHER MEMBERS OF THE EXPEDITION
WITH MAPS AND ILLUSTRATIONS
LONDON EDWARD ARNOLD & CO.
1925 All rights reserved
Made and Printed in Great Britain by « Butler & Tanner Ltd., Frome and London
ACKNOWLEDGMENT
Since their return from Mount Everest the members of the Expedition have had many calls upon their leisure, but they have willingly responded to the request of the Mount Everest Committee that they should describe the part that they severally took in the great adventure ; and the Committee desires cordially to thank them for the sacrifices they have made in order that a full account may be offered to the public.
June, 1925.
CONTENTS
IntRopvcTIoN. By Sir Francis YOUNGHUSBAND, K.C.S.I., K.C.L.E.
CHAP.
II
III
IV
VI
VII
VIII
IX
PART I
NARRATIVE
THE Start. By Brig.-General Hon. C. G. Bruce, C.B., M.V.O.
THe Marcu across TipetT. By Lieut.-Colonel E. F. Norton, D.S.O.
THE Ronesuk GuacizR. By Captain J. G. Bruce, M.C. THE Nortu Cou. By Lieut.-Colonel E. F. Norron, D.S.O. .
NORTON AND SOMERVELL’S ATTEMPT. By Lieut.-Colonel E. F. Norton, D.S.O.
MALLORY AND IRVINE’s ATTEMPT. By N. E. ODELL .
THE RETURN To BasECamp. By Lieut.-Colonel E. F. Norton, D.S.O.
THE Return JouRNEY. By BENTLEY BEETHAM Future Possipmiries. By Lieut.-Colonel E. F. Norton, D.S.O. PART II
MALLORY’S LETTERS
PAGE
13
31 54
73
99
120
144
155
193
207
viii CONTENTS
PART III OBSERVATIONS SECTION PAGE I PaysrotoaicaL Dirricutties. By Major R. W. G. Hineston, IMS. . : ; ; : : ‘ ‘ . 243
II Naturat History. By Major R. W. G. Hinaston, I.M.S. . 261
III GsoLtoay anp GuacroLocgy. By N. E. OpELL . ; . 289 IV PuxotoararHy. By BEentTLEY BEETHAM : : 2 . 324 V On THE UsE or Oxycen. By N. E. ODELL ‘ : . 329
VI THE ORGANIZATION OF THE EXPEDITION:
A.—Preliminary Organization, Journey and March. By
Lieut.-Colonel E. F. Norton, D.S.O. : ‘ . 338 B.—Local Personnel. By Captain J. G. Bruce. ‘ 342 C.—Notes on Office and eee in Tibet. By as J. G.
BRUCE . , 349 D.—Medical Notes. By Major R. W. G. Hineston, I.M.S. 350 E.—High Camps. By T. H. SomERvELt . : ‘ . 353 F.—Oxygen Apparatus, Etc. By N. E. ODELL . j . 361 G.—Transport. By E. O. SHEBBEARE ‘ i . 364 H.—The Mess. By Brenttry BEETHAM . : ; . 366
INDEX ; : ; ‘ : : : : , . 370
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
FACING PAGE
Mount Everest FROM BaskE Camp, 1922 (coloured) Frontispiece
KINcCHENJHAU FROM Kampa Dzone (coloured) ; ‘ ‘ : 6 Mount EvrrestT FROM CHOGORONG : : : ; ‘ . 14 CHOMULHARI FROM THE WEsT (coloured) : ‘ ; . 26 PoRTERS aT Bask Camp... : i : y : d . 46 Camp No. II. ; ‘ : : : ‘ ; ; . 62 East RoncBUK GLACIER. , : : j ‘ ; . 68 THe Trouao—East RonaBuk GLACIER i : : : . 66 Norte Cou : ‘ ‘ : : : : ‘ ‘ . 76 THs Cammney—Norra Con ‘ , ’ j : ; . 84 ROUTE UP THE CHIMNEY. ‘ : ‘ : ; : . 90
From Linegs, LookING WEsT— EVENING DURING Monsoon (coloured) 94
THE RovuTe To THE Coane La . ‘ ; ‘ : ; . 102 Mr. T. G. SOMERVELL : ‘ ; i ‘ y : . 110 Looxina NoRTHWARD FROM 28,100 FEET ‘ : , : . 114 Lizvut.-Cot. E. F. Norton, D.S.O. ; ; ; i j . 118 MALLORY AND IRVINE ABOUT TO LEAVE CHANG La CaMP FOR THE Fina, ATTEMPT TO REACH THE SUMMIT . ‘ ‘ : . 124 SUNSET oN THE SNows oF CHO Rapsana (coloured) . : . 134 ANDREW IRVINE ‘ i ; ; , ; : : . 146 MermoriaL CaIRN : ‘ ; : é ‘ ; ’ . ls TipeTan Typzs aT TINGRI . ‘ ‘ ‘ : ‘ ; . 174
ix
x LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
FACING
PAGE MEMBERS OF THE EXPEDITION, 1924 . 3 : : ’ . 182 PoRTERS WHO WENT HIGHEST , ; ‘ : ‘ . 190 Tue Frnau PYRAMID : : ‘ 3 : ; ; . 194 GrorcE H. LriagH-MALLORY : ‘ : , ; ‘ . 207 Kampa Dzone Fortress (coloured) . ; : ‘ : . 214 Tue Last To LEAVE . : ; ; ‘ ‘ ; ; . 238 A TypicaL Camp IN THE PLains oF TIBET (coloured) . : . 250 CHOMULHARI ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ; : , ; . 268 Gyacoune Kana From Gyacuunea Cav (coloured) : : . 290 Pumori FROM West RoNGBUK GLACIER ‘ ‘ : : . 310
Tur Hiauest PorInt IN THE WORLD AT WHICH PHOTOGRAPHS HAVE BEEN TAKEN—28,000 FEET . : ; ; : ; . 324
MAPS
PanoRaMA OF THE Route To Mount EvEREST . . Facing page 204
Mar . : . : : < é ; : , ; at end
xi
INTRODUCTION
By SIR FRANCIS YOUNGHUSBAND, K.C.8.1L, K.C.LE.
This book is the record of a repulse. Mallory and Irvine may possibly have reached the summit; but they have not lived to tell us. And besides these two English lives, one Scottish and nine Indian lives have also been lost in assault- ing Mount Everest. The repulse has been cruel. Yet the pain has not diminished the determination of man to conquer the mountain: it has increased it. And the men who are most determined are not we who stay at home and watch the struggle from afar; they are the assailants themselves : they are the men who have reached nearest the summit and have stood the hardest buffetings and faced the gravest dangers. Long before they knew what was in the minds of people at home Colonel Norton had recorded in a dispatch in The Times the unanimous wish of the whole Expedition that the attempt should be renewed. And among the public generally there is a distinctly firmer determination to prosecute the project than there was when the idea was first mooted. At that time the public took very little interest init. Douglas Freshfield, Bruce, Collie, Longstaff, and a few others who had actually climbed in the Himalaya, had for long dreamed of climbing Everest whenever political conditions made it possible to get at the mountain. But beyond the Alpine Club, and in a lesser degree the Royal Geographical Society, little interest was taken in the project, and a combined appeal from the Presidents of the two bodies to the general public produced only £10.
Very different is the feeling now. There are of course stillmany—very many—who do not care a rap whether Everest
is climbed ornot. There are others who think the expenditure 1 B
2 THE FIGHT FOR EVEREST
of thousands of pounds on these expeditions is a great waste of money. And there are a few who think it positively wicked to throw away human life on so useless an enterprise Still, the number of those who do see some value in these efforts has greatly increased. And in the hope that it may still further increase we may once more review what we expect to get from these efforts.
And first we must sum up what we have already gained.
When these expeditions to Mount Everest were first started it was still very problematical whether man could sustain himself at extreme altitudes, and, if he could just sustain himself, whether he could survive the exertion of climbing. With great difficulty man had attained a height of 24,600 feet in another part of the Himalaya, a few years previously ; but between that and the summit of Everest there was a difference of 4,400 feet. Could man overcome that great difference in height? To do this he would have to sleep at a height of approximately 27,000 feet, for it would not do to leave more than 2,000 feet to climb on the final day. Would he be able to sleep at 27,000 feet ? And could even the lightest camp be carried for him to that height ? Many thought that both these questions would be answered in the negative—that it would be impossible to get a camp carried to so great a height, and that even if it were man could not sleep there and would therefore be dead beat before he started for the final effort.
The present Expedition has proved, however, that a camp can be carried to 27,000 feet, that man can sleep even at that tremendous altitude, and that without any artificial aid he can reach 28,000 feet. Colonel Norton and Dr. Somer: vell accomplished this last feat in an exceptionally bad year and when they were in a thoroughly exhausted state. For a whole month previously they had been severely strained in establishing the high camps on the glacier, and on the North Col, battling with blizzards and experiencing extreme cold. Yet in spite of these drawbacks Colonel Norton reached a point only 900 feet below the summit. And it
INTRODUCTION 3
cannot be doubted that, if climbers could be put on the mountain in a less exhausted condition than Norton and Somervell were in, the summit could be reached. Norton was able to see enough of the last portion to be sure that there were no physical obstacles to prevent this; and if he in his condition could have reached so near we may be certain that at his best he could have attained the summit. The problem is now merely a matter of putting men on the moun- tain in a fit condition. What was before a mere probability is now anyhow a possibility, and some consider a certainty. Where originally all was doubt and speculation there is now conviction. We feel convinced that sooner or later man will stand on the summit of the highest mountain. And these climbs to higher heights have added to man’s knowledge of himself. Once again he has found that by exercising his capacity he increases it. By forcing himself to live at higher and higher altitudes, he finds that his body adjusts itself to the new conditions. The amount of oxygen in the air near the summit of Mount Everest is only a third of the amount in the air at sea-level, and unless the body made some adjustment to these altered conditions man could not survive them. And this last Expedition has shown that the human body does make this adjustment if it has the requisite time for the purpose. Major Hingston, in Part III, gives full details. Ascending suddenly in a balloon to a height of 28,000 feet in 1875, one man fainted and two men died. But on Mount Everest last year the same altitude was attained by Norton and Somervell and because the ascent had been gradual their bodies had been able to adjust themselves ; they showed no signs of fainting and were able to make the effort of climbing.
The experience gained on last year’s Expedition further showed that men who have once experienced high altitudes will acclimatize very much more rapidly than those ascend- ing to them for the first time. Climbers who had been on two expeditions suffered less on the second than they did on the first ; and the new members of last year’s Expedition
4 THE FIGHT FOR EVEREST
were distinctly more affected than the members who had been on a previous Expedition.
Thus it has been found that not only does man’s body adapt itself to high altitude conditions, but adapts itself more rapidly on successive occasions. And the members of this expedition are of opinion that climbers can be s0 acclimatized to altitudes of between 24,000 and 26,000 feet that they would be able to climb to 29,000 feet without the use ofoxygen. Thesummit of Mount Everest will not be attained without the climbers, somewhere or other on the seven stages between the base camp and the summit, suffering from hardships of extreme cold, furious winds, uncomfortable accommodation, and the poor food and indifferent cooking incidental to life in such regions. And these sufferings and discomforts must sap into the vitality. But this much we now do know which we did not know before, that the body does find better means than the normal of taking in what little oxygen there remains in the air, and that therefore the climbing of the highest mountain on the earth is a feasible proposition.
So much for the body; and with the spirit also it has once more been found that as it exerts itself so does it grow in capacity. And it not merely adapts itself to new condi: tions: it masters them. When man first started out to assault the mountain he was full of doubt and hesitation and not a little fear. Everest was formidable enough in herself, but she had with her terrible allies in the wind and the cold and the snow ; and man might well have quailed before her. But he faced her squarely, and now he knows the worst about her, and knows that he himself has further resources within him which he can bring up against the mountain and he is confident of victory. He knows the limit of what Everest can do. She may have frost and snow and wind on her side, but she cannot loose off poison-gas or belch forth volcanic fire or shake man off in an earthquake. Whereas man can use his intelligence and profit by the experience he has gained ; can equip himself better against the weather; and having
INTRODUCTION 5
once nearly reached the summit the way is known to him and he can march forward with confidence.
His increasing confidence is indeed very remarkable. The members of the 1924 Expedition, marching across Tibet, took it as a certainty that they would reach the summit ; and that they got so near as they did after their terrible experiences during the months on the glacier before they could even make the attempt, must have been due to this confidence that was in them ; they would never have reached so high if they had not had confidence born of their experi- ences in 1922. And Colonel Norton speaks of the stimulating effect there was in passing the highest point they had reached in 1922. Anything then seemed possible. And the want of success on this occasion did not diminish the feeling of confidence. They were as confident on the way back as they were on the way out, that the summit would be reached.
Everest cannot add to her height ; but the spirit of man heightens even under repulse.
And what is the value of this heightened spirit is well exemplified in the contrast between Mallory and the Sherpas. These men are born and bred in the mountains below Everest, and as Captain Geoffrey Bruce tells us, they are sure-footed and owing to the rigorous climate of their homes can with- stand more than average exposure and fatigue. In ordinary life they are quite accustomed to carrying loads across a 19,000-foot pass. Andon this expedition they actually carried small loads to a height of 27,000 feet. So there, right on the spot, must be dozens of men who could, as far as bodily fitness goes, reach the summit of Everest any year they liked. Yet the fact remains that they don’t. They have not even the desire to. They have not the spirit.
Compare these people with Mallory. He undoubtedly was fine in body. But in fitness to endure the cold and wind of Everest and in adaptation to high altitudes, he natur- ally could not compare with the men whose homes were at over 12,000 feet and who, all their lives, were used to carrying loads to still greater altitudes. They must obviously have
6 THE FIGHT FOR EVEREST
excelled him in bodily fitness to climb Mount Everest. But where he excelled was in spirit. As Norton describes in his book, his spirit drove his body to the utmost limit. He was not asked to make that last climb. And there was no call for him to make it, for he had already done more than his share in the whole great adventure. He had taken part in all three Expeditions; on the first, it was he who at the last moment discovered the only possible way up the moun- tain ; on the second, he climbed to a height of nearly 27,000 feet ; and on the third he had had most of the hardest work in making a way up the dangerous North Col and had already taken part in one attempt to reach the summit. He might well have now left others to take up the burden. But his spirit would not allow him ; he must make one last desperate effort.
Many of the Sherpas with the expedition also showed magnificent spirit. But the point is that these people, living under the very shadow of Mount Everest and having, as is now known, all the bodily capacity to enable them to climb it, had never had the spirit to make the attempt, while Mallory, though he was an inhabitant of a distant island with not a snow mountain on it, had the spirit to travel thousands of miles and to risk his life in climbing this mountain, and this spirit did enable him almost to reach the summit.
Mallory’s spirit did indeed force his body to his death. But the manner of his and Irvine’s death was such as to kindle the spirit in thousands of others. Their lives were not thrown uselessly away, for it is a fact, just as real as any “‘ scientific’ fact, that the story of their death has roused the spirit of men and women in every country. Few can be Everest climbers, but all can be inspirited by a deed like Mallory’s and Irvine’s last climb. And many there are who, on hearing of it, have felt themselves helped in battling with their own stern difficulties. And Mallory and Irvine will for ever live among the great who have helped to raise this spirit of man.
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INTRODUCTION 7
Another fact which must also be put to the credit of these Everest Expeditions is that the story of their attack on the mountain has aroused interest throughout the world. And the value of this interest can, in this case, be measured in box-office receipts; thus giving us tangible evidence. For the telegrams relating that story, newspapers were ready to give substantial sums of money. And to hear the lectures and to see the wonderful cinematographic record which Captain Noel brought back, hundreds of thousands of men and women and children all over the world have been ready to pay. In this practical manner they have shown that they do attach value to what these expeditions have done.
Those scientific results which have, as it were, incidentally accrued, are also of no mean value. Odell, a geologist by profession, was able, while he was on Mount Everest, to gather information which has enabled us to determine the character of this highest portion of the earth’s surface. And Major Hingston, the medical officer and naturalist of the Expedition, has made valuable observations on both human and animal life at the highest altitudes. Besides which he has collected some 10,000 specimens. Additions to the map have also been made.
These are the more immediate results of the Expedition. But further results in the future, we may also anticipate. Norton and Somervell reached an altitude practically equal to the height of Kanchenjunga. So when visitors to Darjeeling look up at that wonderful mountain they will take pride in reflecting that man has, without any adventitious aids, ascended even as high as that. They may further reflect that as far as the effects of altitude have anything to do with it, man could climb any of that magnificent array of peaks there stretched out before them. Visitors to Kashmir may feel the same when they look at Nanga Parbat, which, unattain- ably high as it appears, is fifteen hundred feet below the height which Norton reached on Everest. And reflections such as these cannot but inspire men to climb, if not these, yet other Himalayan peaks. The spirit will drive the body on, and
8 THE FIGHT FOR EVEREST
the body, we now know, will respond to the calls of the spirit.
So far it has been in the Himalaya as it was in the Alps till a century ago. Man dreaded and shrank from the great mountain. But as man began to climb the Swiss peaks and became more familiar with the mountains, he gradually over- came his fears and prepared to assert himself, till now he has conquered every peak, and not only climbed the moun- tains but built habitations high up on them and driven roads and railways through them.
So also may we anticipate that man will master the moun- tains in the Himalaya. Having climbed about them and come to feel more at home among them, he will want to build more roads and then more railways, till he hasestablished his supremacy, and this not for the barren purpose of saying heis master, but, as in the Alps, for the sake of enjoying their beauty.
For here in the Himalaya is a source of human enjoyment more valuable far than any gold-mine or any oil-spring, for it cannot be exhausted. What is its exact value, we cannot say ; but we can form some estimate, for we have Switzerland to go by. There hundreds of millions of pounds have been spent for no other purpose than to enable people to enjoy the beauty of the mountains. That is to say, people are ready to pay these millions of pounds in order that they may be ableto see the mountains. To places like Chamonix, for instance, roads and railways have been constructed at a cost which must necessarily be very high on account of the mountainous character of the country traversed. And numbers of hotels—some of them of the most fashionable description—have been built. And from here funicular railways have been made to points from which the best view of Mont Blanc can be obtained. Moreover, the very snow has been made use of to get enjoyment from the mountains, and besides those who come there in the summer, numbers flock there in the winter for the winter sports. And if in Switzer- land men think it worth while to spend so much money simply to get enjoyment from the Alps, it may be assumed
INTRODUCTION 9
that, in course of time, they will be no Jess anxious to get similar enjoyment from the Himalaya.
It is not necessary to compare the beauty of the Alps with the beauty of the Himalaya, and to say that the one is greater than the other. It is sufficient to say that the one is different from the other. Each has its own peculiar beauty. And there can be found in the Himalaya beauty of a type which does not exist in the Alps, and for that very reason—in order to find variety—men may be drawn to the Himalaya. Neither the combination of tropical vegetation with snowy peaks thousands of feet higher than Mont Blanc, nor glacier regions like the Baltoro, can be found in the Alps. And these must always have an attraction even to lovers of the Alps.
It is indeed to men who have acquired their love of moun- tain beauty in the Alps that thediscovery of the Himalaya as a source of beauty is mainly due. It is to the expeditions of Conway, Freshfield, the Duke of the Abruzzi, Longstaff, the Bullock Workmans and de Fillippi, that the enjoyment to be found in the Himalaya has become known. And the Everest Expeditions are only the climax of these more modest assaults. We may anticipate then that more will follow— that as the glories of the Himalaya become more widely known many others will make their way from the Alps to the Hima- laya.
And now the way is shown it is not necessary that men should always proceed by the Alps. The Himalaya mountains are on the edge of a country with three hundred million inhabitants. They too have always been attracted to the Himalaya, and have formed holy places there to which thou- sands of pilgrims yearly resort. Increasing numbers go there also for health and to enjoy the beauty, and more still will follow as the mountains are made more accessible.
This is the prospect before us, and many will shudder at it. To have Kashmir, Sikkim and Kulu covered with hotels and funicular railways will fill many with horror. But the Himalaya is a larger playground than Switzerland, and there
10 THE FIGHT FOR EVEREST
will be room for all for many centuries to come. And accessi- bility to the beauty of the Himalaya will bring enjoyment to thousands and thousands from all over the world as well as from India. The Himalayan peoples too will have their manhood stirred, and, like the Sherpa porters on Mount Everest, be shown of what they are capable.
These are some of the far-off results which we may antici- pate may come of these efforts to scale the Himalayan peaks of which the Everest Expeditions are only the climax. In their final result they will open up a whole new realm of beauty. And the men who have pioneered the way deserve in full measure the gratitude of their kind for the sacrifices they have made.
PART I NARRATIVE
CHAPTER I THE START By BRIG..GENERAL HON. C. G. BRUCE, C.B., M.V.O.
March 1, and once again, and for the third time, the members of the Mount Everest Expedition are collecting in Darjeeling.
This in itself is a sufficiently stimulating idea. The first Expedition, which left to reconnoitre an, until that time, almost unknown part of the Himalaya, may seem to have removed some of the mystery and, so to speak, to have skimmed the cream from the exploratory milk. But this is really but a superficial impression.
To begin with, part of their way led over country which had been reached before by European travellers, and about which a great deal was known.
It was only when they turned South from Shekar that they came into the real thrills. And although the subse- quent expeditions, following on their lines, could never quite reproduce the extraordinarily satisfactory feeling which was granted to the first Expedition—the first Europeans to get to the Rongbuk Valley, and to view that vast Himal—that desperate, desolate country, from the North—still, both the First and the Second Expeditions, quite apart from their efforts on the mountain, added to our geographical knowledge, and probably still more to our appreciation of the people of that country.
It is rather strange to find, in the light of subsequent efforts, that the account of our work in the second Expedition is called “The Assault on Mount Everest.”
That no doubt it was. But one of the most experienced 13
14 THE FIGHT FOR EVEREST
and wise of mountaineering authorities said a long time ago, ‘“‘Tt may take a dozen assaults, but final success is certain.” And that adequately summarizes the position.
Anyhow, here we are, collecting again !
I must, however, spare a few words as to how some of us managed to get here.
Norton and myself came out by the mail steamer arriving in Bombay February 16, reaching Delhi on the 18th. There we were able to discuss certain details with H.E. Lord Rawlin- son, the Commander-in-Chief, and also with the political authorities.
H.E. the late Lord Rawlinson, from the outset, had been a very keen supporter of our enterprise, and his sympathy and assistance were always to be counted on.
At Delhi Norton and I parted, to meet again by arrange- ment in Calcutta on February 27. My road first of all taking me to the Frontier and Abbottabad, where I was to join Captain Geoffrey Bruce, and to see the four Gurkha non- commissioned officers, who, by the kindness of H.E. Lord Rawlinson, were again to accompany the Expedition, and also to pick up certain stores best supplied from Abbottabad and its district—notably putties—a small item, but an important one. I do not wish to make a dissertation on putties, and will merely state that anyone who has worn a properly woven pair of putties, from their own original home—that is the mountains surrounding Kashmir, will never wish to wear any other type, and for high climbing it is a fact that improper pressure round the calf and ankles gives extra work to the heart, and may be actually an assistant cause of frostbite of the feet.
From the North-west Frontier, we journeyed down to Calcutta: Geoffrey Bruce, myself, and five Gurkha soldiers, one being my own orderly.
Again, in Calcutta, we met Norton. All the arrangements for meeting our stores, which had been dispatched from London by sea to Calcutta, were settled with the Army and Navy Stores, and the manager took over the whole onus of for-
THE START 15
warding them, together with our oxygen apparatus, up to the station of Kalimpong Road, the terminus of the Darjeeling Hill Railway in Sikkim.
Alas, we missed our old ally who had been of such great assistance to us on previous occasions. I refer to Mr. Brown, of the Army and Navy Stores, and regret to say that he had died about six months before we arrived in India. We owe an immense debt of gratitude to the Army and Navy Stores for the way they have always forwarded our interests.
Thence, from Calcutta, with as little delay as possible, to Darjeeling. I confess that the journey from Siliguri to Darjeeling, often as I have made it, never palls. Partly, no doubt, because of the complete change from the plains of India to the mountains; the great forests one passes through, and the wholly different type of peoples one meets. And then the wonderful vistas of ever-deepening blue as the railway climbs higher and higher, and the brilliant coral blossoms of the cotton tress, which in the early months of the year strike such a bold note of colour against the blue depths of the valleys. And again, as soon as the Ghoom ridge is passed, the exciting views of the Himalayas. All these attractions only add to my own pleasure and to the delightful memories which these journeys leave in my mind, and to which each successive journey contributes. The funny fussy little Hill Railway, and its clever engineering ; even the scrubby little bazaars one passes through, and the many little races and short cuts I have taken with the train— all these pictures are a vivid remembrance.
On this last occasion we found Narbu Yishé, called by us in ’22 the “‘ purana miles,” or old soldier—a real stalwart— who again was to hugely distinguish himself. And then, in typical March weather, came the last and always exhilarating stage, the short run from Ghoom into the Darjeeling Railway Station.
Here we were promptly met by one of our new members, Shebbeare. Shebbeare belongs to the Indian Forest Depart- ment, and it was a great bit of luck being able to acquire his
16 THE FIGHT FOR EVEREST
services. Naturally, from his profession, he was brought much in contact with local conditions, and with the type of men that we employ as our porters, and who form the per- sonnel of our Expeditions. Ofcourse anybody may be brought into close contact with people, but it by no means follows that they will understand them or have the sympathetic temperament required to get the best out of them. We knew, however, that Shebbeare possessed all these qualities, hence our jubilation at getting him as one of our party. He was our Official Transport Officer, failing Captain C. J. Morris, who had been unable to get the necessary leave to join us again. Shebbeare had no previous training in the technique of high mountaineering, but that was not his business. He was, is, and ever will be, a glutton for work, and with him discomforts count not.
Our excellent Agent, Mr. Weatherall, also met us, and gave us a most encouraging account of the number of Sherpas, Bhotias, and hill-men generally, who had come in hoping to be chosen as porters for the Expedition. This news was most cheering, as it shewed that our reputation was still good, and that the sacrifice of the seven porters in 1922 had had no deterring effect on the supply of volunteers.
Our Interpreter, Karma Paul, was to the fore once more, and also his assistant, Gyaljen, both as keen as ever. And even the melancholy Moti, the cobbler, once more rolled up, bringing an ill-fated brother with him. Also the depre- catory and mild Rhombu, the Lepcha naturalist, crept in from the back, so to speak, and intimated with his hat in his hand, in complete silence, that he was ready again. We ear-marked him as Hingston’s assistant, as soon as the latter should arrive.
Then we were joined by Somervell, hailing from Travan- core, followed by Odell from the Persian oil-fields, while Hingston arrived from his R.A.F. hospital in Bagdad. All were set to work at once, according to their several qualifica- tions. But Norton and Shebbeare promptly rushed off to Kalimpong to receive and forward our heavy baggage as it
THE START 17
arrived. Odell was our Oxygen Expert, and the oxygen apparatus was placed in his charge from now on.
We had been warned in the most solemn fashion by the India Office of the terrible penalties which would be incurred by the Tibetans if any more interest was displayed in the geological formations of the mountains, or if any stones were removed from their sides. But murder will out, and it was discovered that Odell was a geologist by profession. This dreadful news had immediately to be counteracted. Odell was taking a complete holiday from his profession. He was now following his infinitely greater calling, that of a moun- taineer, and though he was obliged by orders of the Expedi- tionary Head-quarters Staff to take upon himself other scientific duties, still his own profession was in abeyance. Telegrams of reassurance flew from every direction over the Himal, and confidence was re-established. No epidemics and no disturbing of the local demons should occur if it was possible to avoid this terrible risk.
Hingston had arrived as fit as possible after a Mesopo- tamian winter, which is not to be despised. In addition to being the Official Doctor and Surgeon of the Expedition, he was also its Naturalist. In his first capacity he came bursting with energy and enthusiasm to test every member of the Expedition with every terror known to the R.A.F. authorities. In his second capacity, as Naturalist, we knew that he would have his work cut out, and we hoped that but little of his time would be required for looking after the humans. In the actual event, as will be seen, he had his hands full, both with his Natural History collections, and in dealing with the many troubles of the Expedition: one of the most annoying of these troubles being the one I myself occasioned. To his great attainments, both as Doctor and Naturalist, are added a complete placidity of temperament, and an unfailing humorous outlook. I shall be intensely obliged if anyone can point out a better make-up for the trying duties which he was asked to carry out. All our thanks
aredue to him. Hingston was nota mountaineer. Oh, no! 0
18 THE FIGHT FOR EVEREST
But read to the end of this book, and then make a comment on this statement !
Somervell had arrived from Southern India, looking fit and well as usual. A Medical Missionary now, and full of his opportunities, medical, sportive, and other, which he had enjoyed while ministering to his enormous panel. I think, though, that the soft and enervating climate of Travancore had begun to tell on even his wonderful constitution to a certain extent, and Somervell has a very tough physique. The cassowary, however, had spared him, and he joined us just the same T. H. 8S. as of old. My last meeting with him had been at Zermatt in 1923, during that astounding campaign he made in the Alps, having Bentley Beetham with him most of the time, when they bagged something like thirty-five peaks in six weeks’ climbing.
We had, as usual, a very amusing time picking our personnel. There were several old followers—notably old Pu—coming with us for the third time, and among them turned up my former porter and henchman, Llakpa Chédé, who in 1922 had done his best to come, but was at that time very ill with malaria. This year he was in first-rate condition, and, as will be seen in later accounts, a very great success. A native- born of Darjeeling, he had never been to the hub of the Sherpa universe, the large Sola-Khombu settlements at the head of the Dudh Kosi in Nepal, although his father hailed from that place. We took with us a larger outfit of porters than in 1922, but, on the whole, an equally satisfactory lot.
All was ready for the march: stores packed and for- warded from Darjeeling by the time our last contingent arrived, Mallory and Irvine, Bentley Beetham and Hazard. This our last, and almost most important, contingent, Hazard, who had previously served in India as a sapper, and who had a great mountaineering record. Bentley Beetham, a born mountaineer, and—how shall I describe him ?—a mountain- eering Ghazi, and Somervell’s climbing companion, and also a skilled photographer, to whom was deputed by Noel much of the still-picture work. Then Mallory, the Bayard of the
THE START 19
Mountains—" sans peur et sans reproche ’’—the only member of the Expedition who was making his third journey. And finally, our splendid “experiment,” Irvine, bringing with him magnificent recommendations from Longstaff and Odell after Spitzbergen experiences, and, further, bringing his own great personality. He rapidly ceased to be an experiment, for we soon found that with a young body he possessed a mature judgment, combined with a very remarkable handiness and adaptability as a practical working engineer. All these valuable qualities, combined with infinite stamina and infinite unselfishness, made Irvine a very great asset to our party.
I really don’t think that I ought to say anything about Geoffrey Bruce! He was confidential Staff Officer, dealing with all branches—G.S.O. and Q. in all its ramifications. During the whole of my service in the Army I have been singularly dependent upon a Fidus Achates, on whom I could always put the nasty work I didn’t like myself, and whom I could always blame for anything I did myself if it was wrong. I think that is a good enough recommendation for anybody. Possibly, just as an aside, I might add that he is a really very remarkable performer on the hillside. One of those untrained mountaineers who is always “all there.” At any rate, if I never did anything else to help Colonel Norton, I at least passed Geoffrey Bruce on to him.
On March 25 we left Darjeeling, everybody, with the exception of myself, riding or walking: the members of the Expedition, the Interpreter, the Sirdars, porters, personal servants, cooks, and Gurkha non-commissioned officers. I went like a lord, in a motor-car put at my disposal by Mr. Wrangham-Hardy of Darjeeling, and driven by his chauffeur, a man whom, curiously enough, I had myself enlisted into the Kashmir Army twenty-five years ago. He drove me round wa Siliguri, and thence up the Teesta Valley to Kalim- pong Road, from which place we mounted 3,800 feet to Kalimpong. This last about the steepest drive, and with the narrowest turns, that I have ever been over in a motor- car, the excitement of the drive being hugely enhanced
20 THE FIGHT FOR EVEREST
by the fact that we were overtaken by a furious thunderstorm just as it was getting dark. However, that night the whole Expedition was collected, and had a cheerful evening together,
Captain Noel, who was the Official Photographer in the 1922 Expedition, was again with us, although his arrange- ments were different from those of 1922. He was very keen to take again a complete cinema record of all that the Expedi- tion hoped to do. But so difficult had it been in 1922 to develop the films in Tibet, owing to the continual winds, the amount of dust raised by them, and its character, and also the low temperatures at night, that it was considered to be far more efficacious to establish a regular laboratory in Darjeeling, and to send back his films from Tibet to be developed there under these much better conditions. We were luckily able to make postal arrangements which, under the circumstances, worked very well.
In 1922 I had the privilege of being the bearer of a message from Sir Robert Baden-Powell to the Scouts of Dr. Graham’s magnificent ‘“‘ Homes’ in Kalimpong. And I was happy in 1924 to be entrusted with another message. Again we had a most interesting ceremony, and, to my special interest, I found that the large and very flourishing troop of Nepali Scouts, looked after by Dr. Graham, were in charge of a young Welshman who hailed from very near my own home in Glamorgan.
Again, they all saw us on our way, after a most interesting function.
And so to Pedong. After all this is the real start for Tibet. We travelled in two parties as usual: the second in charge of Norton; the first with me.
I have an affection for Pedong. It is charmingly situated, and looks well over the Sikkim Valleys. But this year the air seemed full of smoke: possibly unusually thick haze, possibly actual smoke diven up from the forest fires in the plains.
Pedong is on the frontier between British Sikkim and the Sikkim State, and while I was sitting in comfort in the
THE START 21
bungalow I was visited by a young Sikkim military policeman who wished to see our passes, and also brought books to be signed. Having complied with these requests, I had relapsed into comfort when I was startled by a yell of ‘ Attention !”’ from the young Gurkha policeman, followed by ‘‘ Right- hand salute—Left turn—Quick march!” at the top of his voice. Thus having given himself orders he departed satisfied on his way.
The road through Sikkim is always a joy, warm though the deep valleys are. But their warmth, and the heat engendered by running down the very steep short cuts, through the gorgeous Sikkim forests, were partly compensated for by the luscious pineapples of Rhenok.
And so to Rongli-Chu, 2,700 feet above sea-level. Here a typical Sherpa incident occurred. Take it all round our Sherpas had been very good. Of course when leaving Darjeeling it was up to them, for luck’s sake, to take as many drinks of their chang as they could before setting out for Tibet. But this mild sacrifice to the god of Luck only added to their intense friendliness for everybody and every- thing.
But at Rongli-Chu two of them really did burst out much more than was necessary, and I am afraid, on this occasion, they did not confine themselves to the mild chang, but added to it much of the rough spirit of the country. A furious fight between two of them was the result. They were finally brought into camp, and Somervell was woken up to treat them. They were dreadfully smashed about, and much sewing up of wounds and bandaging of heads and hands had to be done.
The following morning, when they were coming up for a second dressing I thought I would add a little dressing down on my own account. They were very sorrowful, but also much hurt, and carefully explained to me that they hadn’t quarrelled, and that they were bosom friends. That it was not they, but the drink that had quarrelled! This naive way of putting things was typical of the Sherpa character.
22 THE FIGHT FOR EVEREST
Unfortunately, neither of these two Sherpas turned out among the best. That, however, is another story.
From Rongli began the great ascent, via Sedongchen, Gnatong, and over the Jelap La, always an interesting journey.
Again, as in 1922, we stopped for our wayside refreshment at Ling Tham. There was the same little lady and her children, the latter much grown, and again she refreshed us with excellent tea and her “‘ shéli’’ bread. However, on this occasion we were lucky, as we had had some rain on the way up, and the atmosphere had cleared.
Crossing the open ground over the Minor Kapup Pass we had the most inspiring view of the whole Kanchenjunga massif. One of those strange mysterious atmospheric effects, when the great mountains appear to be floating in mid-air, their lower slopes swallowed up in the blue depths of the valleys, and their outlines obliterated, while all above the snow-line seemed detached from an earthly base and floating in space. It was a truly wonderful picture.
On this occasion we marched direct from Gnatong, and without halting at Kapup, crossed the pass to the Tibetan rest-house, which is 6 miles from the top. Naturally this rest-house has not the conveniences of a Dak bungalow, but for all that it is no mean shelter, and is well built with heavy timbers.
More than ever was it borne in on me during this journey, the differences between the Eastern and Western Himalaya.
Here we were on April 1, high up, having crossed a pass of 14,400 feet, and yet had never been really inconvenienced by the snow, nor had the night temperatures been particularly low.
The descent from the summit was certainly over snow for a time, and the path below unpleasantly iced, and dread- fully slippery for animals. How those heavily laden Chumbi mules managed to get over it was a wonder.
Compare these conditions to those which prevail on April 1 on the other great trade route, that from Kashmir to
THE START 23
Ladakh or Little Tibet. On that route only one pass, the Zoji La, an insignificant 11,700 feet, and yet Iam not exagger- ating when I say that there would have been 10 feet of snow on it at that date, and, almost certainly, it would have been impassable for a train of laden animals.
And further, our pass, the Jelap La, remains open, nearly always, for the whole winter, for it is down over this track that the great mule trains, with their bales of wool, pass annually.
We waited on the top of the Jelap La for some little time, but it was a wild rough morning and not very attractive.
Still, we managed to take one or two photographs, includ- ing one of the Sherpa, Angtarké, who was one of the two men rescued in the disaster of 1922. I don’t think poor Angtarké has ever really recovered from that terrific experience, for he was dug out unconscious, firmly fixed in the snow, standing on his head, having fallen some 60 feet. We felt bound to take him on again, but he soon broke down, and returned with me.
The next day brought us to Chumbi, or more correctly speaking, Shashima.
David Macdonald, the Trade Agent, was up in Tibet, but his son, John Macdonald, looked after us in place of his father.
We had a little business to transact here, which did not take very long, and the following day we were joined by the second party, all fit and well. We were all bidden that afternoon to a Tibetan dance and a performance by pro- fessional Tibetan players and acrobats.
The entertainment took place on the lawn of the Mac- donalds’ garden, and was really most fascinating, not only from its own spectacular merits, but from the picturesqueness of the crowd, and also from the intense personal enjoyment of not only the entertained, but also of the entertainers themselves.
The whole of the inhabitants of the Chumbi Valley— men, women, and children—were present; many Nepalese
24 THE FIGHT FOR EVEREST
traders, settlers, and the like, and also the men of the detachment of the Panjabi Regiment stationed in Chumbi.
One of the actors, dressed up as a Mahomedan, with a long beard, was excruciatingly like an old Mahomedan friend of mine up in the Kaghan Valley, which tickled me immensely,
We did not, however, stay long in Chumbi, but left, again in two parties, on April 5. Always an interesting journey, I think, that route through the Gautsa Defile.
In the wooded parts of the Himalaya one often meets with beautiful scenery, magnificent scenery, indeed, com- bined with real wildness, but the upper parts of the Gautsa Defile, in contrast to the lower parts, impress one with a sense of savage wildness.
We reached Phari on April 6. But it was not the Phari we anticipated, neither was it the Phari of 1922.
I don’t think Phari could have possibly behaved better than it did in 1924. It was, in fact, almost a mild climate, and Phari is over 14,000 feet.
We found, as we had expected, all our stores collected here, and our very efficient ‘“‘ Tindel,’’ who was in charge, had pitched the whole of our tents for inspection.
No time was lost in getting into touch with the Dzong Pen. Knowing, however, the character of the Phari civil authorities of old, we were prepared for a battle over prices. In fact, we had previously taken certain steps, communicating our doubts of the attitude likely to be expected from the Phari headmen, and so forth, to General Tza-za Laden La, who was on a mission to Lhasa. |
It was lucky for us that we had done this, for we found that the prices in Phari Dzong had risen altogether out of proportion to the cost of living, so to speak.
Our battle with the Dzong Pen went on for two days.
As before we had travelled to Phari in two parties, and SO were again assembled there on April 7. Again it was my birthday, and once more we opened a bottle of the old family rum specially sent by my brother from England for the occasion. Many compliments have been paid to this
THE START 25
old rum, but never more hearty ones, and never has it done its duty better than on these two occasions, for really old mellow rum is a generous fluid.
We had one day of complete rest for all, and that day was largely occupied in submitting ourselves individually to Major Hingston’s innumerable physiological tests.
I was hugely elated by finding that I passed a better examination in Phari Dzong than I had in London. I think the little devil who deals in disappointments must have sat on the mantelpiece and chuckled.
Between times, and while the tests were going on, we continued our battles with the Dzong Pen.
The Dzong Pen himself, a grasping, avaricious, but feeble, albeit well-mannered individual, was really in the hands of his subordinates, the Gyembus, a truculent, but determined, crowd of cheerful rascals, who had quite clearly not taken on their duties for health’s sake alone.
However, we discovered that a telegram had arrived from Lhasa, instructing the Dzong Pen to give us every assistance, and to see that we were not overcharged. With- out letting it be known that we were in possession of this information, an ultimatum was issued, and before all, in open Durbar, a telegram was written out to the Tibetan Prime Minister, complaining of our treatment at the hands of the Phari authorities.
This bluff had its desired effect, and very shortly an agreement was drawn out and signed, and, after much bowing and ceremonial kow-towing, by general request the telegram was torn up in full sight of the Durbar.
A dramatic and very amusing finale to the situation. There remained but to get off! And the departure from Phari, as is always the case, and probably always will be the case in the East for a first day, was a prolonged scramble.
But on the following day, after the agreement had been signed, and during the day, we did actually get off and again in two parties. Hingston, myself, and John Macdonald had elected to travel by the more lengthy Tuna-Do-chen-Tat-sang
26 THE FIGHT FOR EVEREST
route, up to then new to me; the Do-chen lake and its innumerable wild fowl being the attraction for Hingston. The remainder of the party made a short march and camped on the slopes of the Tang La, and as we progressed on our route we saw their camp being pitched in a fairly sheltered spot up a little valley.
Our route led us along the main route to Lhasa for some 20 miles or so, and Hingston and I amused ourselves by trying to round up some kiang,* and as a matter of fact we did get very close to them.
The road, although pleasant enough to ride, must be deadly boring for a pedestrian, notwithstanding the fact that the great north ridge of Chomulhari, running for at least 10 miles in a northerly direction, is really a most magnifi- cent sight, and its terribly steep ice faces, almost terrifying in their steepness when regarded from a mountaineering point of view.
The main caravan had to take the ordinary Kampa Dzong route, which is necessary when much transport is employed, crossing the great ridges of the Donka La, and although starting in mild weather, were prepared for a severe time, and were not disappointed.
Even we encountered a very cold wind before reaching Tuna, as bleak and desolate a spot as one could wish to see.
The next morning I was down with a severe go of malaria, which obliged me to hand over the conduct of the Expedition to Norton.
In fact, even after I had begun to recover, Hingston was adamant. Hingston, although adamant, was interested, however, as my case showed the physiological effects on the human body produced by a sharp attack of malaria when it develops at an altitude of over 15,000 feet.
The fever, under his skilful treatment, yielded in four days, but I had to be carried out of Tibet completely inca- pacitated. |
At any rate I did a bit of good to one member of the
* Wild donkeys.
LSUM AHL WOWd TAVHTINWOHD
THE START 27
Expedition, for the exercise of carrying me for 20 miles back into Phari appears to have provided excellent training for my old henchman Llakpa, who afterwards so distinguished himself on the great mountain.
Naturally this cowp de jarnac dealt me by the Fates was a terrible disappointment to me, but there are compensations for everything, and my compensation was Norton. Let me say at once that even if I had continued with the Expedi- tion there was no step taken by Norton, no order issued by him, and no decision made by him of which I should not have been proud to have been the author. No doubt an extra hand who knew the ropes, at the Base Camp, would have been of advantage, but beyond that, in such a great matter as the continuity of the command, there is nothing to be said.
My own subsequent movements were simple enough, but one point is certainly interesting, and that is the extraordinary rapidity with which strength was regained, even at such an altitude as Yatung, roughly 10,000feet. So much so that after a few days’ rest I was able to continue, riding and walking, my journey down to Gangtok, crossing the Natu La in deep snow.
However, Hingston was just as adamantine when we reached Gangtok, and would not listen to what I was pleased to call reason.
He left me at the latter place—Gangtok—and travelled via Lachen direct to Kampa Dzong, writing to me on the way up, and giving descriptions of his enjoyment of the road through the forests, and that he had captured no less than 300 different kinds of bugs without even dismounting.
IT must here thank Major and Mrs. Bailey for the great care they took of me in Gangtok while I was convalescing.
From April 27 to August 8 there is a great gap: I waiting in comfort—that is physical comfort—while the rest were occupied with the great fight. A most humiliating and trying position.
I shall never forget receiving a most kind and sympathetic
28 THE FIGHT FOR EVEREST
letter from Lord Lytton, the Governor of Bengal, enclosing the fateful telegram telling of our loss.
The whole history of that wonderful battle and the final sacrifice is told in the chapters which follow, and so I leave that to other pens.
* * * * *
In a later chapter Colonel Norton fully discusses the problem of Everest, and especially that part which has not yet been entirely solved. But so many points in this year’s attempt have been cleared up, and such great progress has been made, that we are in an infinitely better position to review and complete our task.
As will be seen, the Expedition in 1924 suffered from very unusual climatic conditions, and these not to do with the arrival of the monsoon, but due to depressions forming in the West, and travelling the whole length of Afghanistan, the Northern Panjab, and the Himalayas, causing until quite late into May rough and cold weather, and making a record low temperature for that month throughout the sub-montaine districts.
These disturbances brought to Everest hurricane after hurricane, and terrible cold at a time when clear, if not comparatively warm, weather is expected.
One of our great problems in the attack on Everest is to bring one’s party burly and fit to the foot of the mountain, and to keep them so.
I am not exaggerating at all if Iestimate that that great three weeks’ struggle to establish the camp at the North Col reduced the efficiency of the party, whether European or Tibetan, by at least one-third. That is to say, that each member of the Expedition, with ordinary luck, would have been one-third a better man when engaged on the final assault.
To my mind the problem is solved, with the gods on our side, and given again a party of equal efficiency.
The minor matters that we have learnt, whether in organization or deductions from physiological experience, count comparatively for little.
THE START 29
The greater problem is solved, whether oxygen is employed or not.
We have only got to get together a party to match that of 1924. To go there, and do it; utilizing at the same time all the influence we have with the heavenly Authorities to supply us with propitious weather.
There is one subject, however, which I must not forget. We certainly, in 1924, did learn a great deal about the extent to which acclimatization is progressive. It was also quite clearly established, I think, that those who had lived for considerable periods at a height of over 16,000 feet, even after the lapse of two years, got their acclimatization more rapidly than beginners. Even in 1922 we noticed that Mallory was far fitter at high altitudes than anyone else at the start.
We put this down to innate capacity, very largely, but it was quite probably, in the light of our further experi- ence, due to his training and experience of the previous year.
This is a fact worth remembering, and it might even be an assistance, if there is a long gap before the new Expedition takes place, for climbers to make a point of spending a con- siderable time on the way up to Tibet at the Gautsa rest- house, which is at about 12,000 feet, training themselves from there, and utilizing the ample supplies obtainable in Chumbi, so as to get a great measure of acclimatization before crossing the Tibetan plateau. I may say this is a favourite scheme of Colonel Norton’s.
I seem to have dismissed the oxygen question with scant reference, but I think the conclusion is clear. Every effort should be made to attain a full acclimatization, and that acclimatization should be utilized, so to speak, to its utmost safe limit, and that oxygen should only be used to ensure success for the final dash.
I have every reason for thinking that it has been found possible to construct an adequate and infinitely lighter oxygen apparatus.
30 THE FIGHT FOR EVEREST
I will conclude my chapter by drawing attention to the psychological attitude which should be adopted.
The whole history of mountaineering bears out our experience. The steady progression of the most difficult climbs in Switzerland, from a reputation for ‘ impossibility ” to ‘‘ an easy day for a lady,” exactly expresses the idea. The standard has been steadily rising, for but a few years ago a height of 23,000 feet to 24,000 feet was considered the limit of human capacity.
During our storming of Everest we always adopted the attitude, when thinking, considering, or talking of our great project, that it began after 23,000 feet, and that anyone should be expected to easily arrive at that point with or without a load on his back.
This, although probably an illogical conclusion, had the perfectly logical result that we had hoped for.
CHAPTER II THE MARCH ACROSS TIBET By LIEUT.-COLONEL E. F. NORTON, D.S.O.
The first march from Phari is always something of an event. To begin with there is the great question whether sufficient transport animals will materialize to enable the expedition to start at all, and April 7, 1924, provided no exception to the rule, for the dilatory and obstructive methods of the Dzong Pen of Phari and his Gyembus (or head-men) were fully up to standard, and it took Geoffrey Bruce and Shebbeare six hours of arguing and driving before the last of our 300 odd transport animals were fairly on the road.
Then there is the joy of doing a whole march close under that most beautiful mountain Chomulhari, whose isolated position and perfect shape combine to produce a picture from which one can hardly take one’s eyes. The peak is seen at its best from a mile or two south of Phari; this day’s march takes one rather too close under it, and this detracts from its outline, but, on the other hand, one opens out a series of vistas of the spurs which form its western buttresses and which, viewed end on, are striking to a degree. As we neared camp we looked straight up a ridge which begins in a knife-edge of rock worthy of the Chamounix Aiguilles and is continued towards the mountain by what must be one of the steepest and narrowest ice arétes in the world.
The route we were to follow for the next four days crosses the north-eastern spurs of a big snow mountain called Pau Hunri, and for some reason this area is the most inhospitable of any we meet on the Tibetan plateau. I have now crossed
it four times, both in spring and summer, and never without 31
32 THE FIGHT FOR EVEREST
encountering a blizzard or constant storms of snow and sleet. So we were not surprised to find it trying to snow as darkness came on; and for the first time we appreciated the joys of our new mess tent, which, specially designed as the result of our previous experience, proved of all this year’s innovations the most complete and permanent success.
Our march on April 7 was a very short one, for we knew that transport difficulties would delay our start. On April 8 we lengthened our stride and covered 12 miles, The miles of the great Tibetan plains are long; sometimes they seem as long as Irish miles after a day’s hunting. And towards the end of this day’s march we began to marvel at our hardi- hood two years before, when we covered in one day the full 20 miles comprised in our first two marches this year, and that in a blizzard and for the most part on foot, only to go one better next day with a march of some 25 miles. And it must be remembered that we were now at an altitude somewhat greater than that of the top of Mont Blanc, and, unacclimatized as we were, this factor affected our going power more than a little.
Half-way through this second day’s march we met a mes- senger from Hingston with a note to tell us that General Bruce was sick of a fever and lying up at Tuna—a piece of news that greatly disconcerted us.
On April 9, marching with the thermometer at 4° Fahren- heit and in a strong and bitterly cold wind, we crossed that series of three 18,000-foot passes which we know collectively as the Donka La, and got into camp at 5.30 p.m. The entry in my diary for the day finishes with: ‘‘ As often before I am lost in admiration of the servants, porters, etc., who walk 18 miles in bitter weather, get into camp and work like beavers to get their sahibs (who have ridden much of the way) fed, clothed and housed.”
On the 10th we marched all day, only getting into camp at dusk. Our route lay over a vast gravelly plain, the very abomination of desolation; on the north the horizon was bounded by variegated limestone hills rising to 18,000 or 19,000
THE MARCH ACROSS TIBET 33
feet. To the south the plain rose gently to a skyline, perhaps 10 miles away, over which appeared the great blunt snow- capped summits of Pau Hunri, Kinchenjhau and Chomiomo. At this season the plain appears utterly devoid of vegetation, yet herds of kyang and Tibetan gazelle surrounded us in every direction, all looking as sleek and round as if their chosen habitat were the finest pasture in Asia. To the best of my recollection we had not seen a human being for the last two days.
That evening certain anxieties we had already felt about the health of the party began to take a more definite form. Beetham was evidently suffering from a severe attack of dysentery, and Mallory had some very disquieting symptoms. Somervell suspected the possibility of appendicitis, and spent some hours into the night in making plans to deal with his case if the worst came to the worst.
Next morning we descended steeply on to Kampa Dzong. After the rough march from Phari, Kampa has each year been something of a haven of refuge, and this time it gave us a particularly warm welcome. Tucked away in a sheltered corner of the hills, this picturesque village is a veritable sun trap, and the descent from the great plateau we had crossed to a height of about 14,000 feet was itself a relief to our so far unacclimatized party. The scenery as you descend on the village is striking ; the great flat plain of Kampa stretches 10 miles to the west, and from this point of view has an iri- descent quality which a closer acquaintance scarcely explains. The variegated foothills which border it look as if they were composed of knife-powder, rust and wood ashes, and the horizon is bounded on three sides by what appear at this season to be all snow mountains. On the south stretch the great peaks of the main range of the Himalayas, where Tibet borders on Sikkim and Nepal, and on the north is a range, snow-capped except for two summer months, which borders the valley of the Brahmaputra. Eastward, the fine shapes of the Gyankar range merge into the giants of the Mount Everest system, though these, tinted golden by 100 miles
D
34 THE FIGHT FOR EVEREST
of atmosphere, still seem to dominate the nearer range less than half as distant. This morning the familiar shapes of Everest and Makalu remained almost clear of cloud until the foothills shut them from our view, and only as we were losing them did they begin to fly the cloud banner which in this region always marks the master-peak.
Arrived at Kampa, we occupied the walled enclosure which has always been allotted to us by the courtesy of the local officials. There is an unchanging quality about Tibet which was brought home to me whenever we re-occupied one of our old camp sites; here at Kampa not a stone was changed : the same Tibetan hares hopped about, and the same snow cock cackled on the hill over our camp, and in the broken-down willow tree which our enclosure boasted lived the same magpie and the same little brown accentor.
At Kampa we were to change transport animals, and wherever this occurred the routine was much the same. The local Dzong Pen or Gyembu would meet us on our arrival, and having vaguely assured us that our requirements would be punctually fulfilled, would leave us to settle into camp after arranging for a meeting later in the day. In due course he would arrive, and Geoffrey Bruce and I would entertain him to tea in the mess tent. After preliminary courtesies and an interchange of gifts we would state our requirements and he the difficulties of meeting them; these we would counter by producing the passport provided by the Tibetan Govern- ment and carrying the Dalai Lama’s seal, in which all officials of the specified districts were strictly enjoined to give us every assistance. The effect of this document would be varied : in some cases it would be treated with the greatest respect, in others it seemed to carry very little weight.
Prevarication and delay was generally our guest’s strong suit—ours a polite firmness as to numbers and dates. Finally would come the battle royal as to the rate to be paid pet animal—yak or donkey. The Dalai Lama’s pass said that we were to receive transport at the ‘‘ current rate,”’ but the trouble was that this proved a facgon de parler; there was no
THE MARCH ACROSS TIBET 35
such thing as a current rate. Most fortunately the head Gyembu of Kampa Dzong—for the Dzong Pen was away —an ugly bucolic man, but straightforward and honest withal, proved singularly accommodating in this respect, and we founded our future ideas of a current rate largely on his modest demands, which were rather lower than the average prices paid in 1922. At some stages—notably Tinki Dzong—we had to arrange for a further interview, and then to take a very strong line before we could secure our transport at a reasonable rate. Our conversations, which were carried on through the medium of an interpreter, always finished on a friendly note, no matter how severe had been the tussle. Sometimes we were ourselves entertained in the Dzong, and if the negotiations were prolonged, we were apt to find the keen edge taken off our bargaining powers by a surfeit of macaroni and mutton, sweetmeats and Tibetan tea—that vile decoction flavoured with salt and butter—or chang (the local form of beer).
On this occasion our hopes of a speedy resumption of our journey were dashed, and we found that we must wait four days for our transport. But there were several reasons why this forced inaction was not unwelcome: it gave time for the invalids to recover, and, as we hoped, for the General, of whom we had no further news, to rejoin us; it enabled us to spread out kit, have a welcome bath, and generally ease off after our first taste of high-level marching. It gave us the chance also seriously to discuss our programme for climbing the mountain.
In this we had so far reached something of an impasse. As long ago as the previous Christmas in England I had circulated a paper containing my ideas on the subject, and with these Mallory had by correspondence disagreed in certain respects. At Darjeeling, and again at Phari, we had held lengthy discussions—Mallory, Somervell, Geoffrey Bruce, and myself—and, failing to agree altogether, had decided to continue our arguments across the endless plains of Tibet. At Kampa we hoped for a final decision and a cut-and-dried
36 THE FIGHT FOR EVEREST
plan of which the details could be worked out on the fort- night’s trek still ahead of us. Now was the chance, and each day we went at it, sometimes Mallory and I, sometimes he and I with the addition of Somervell and Bruce, and once in full committee of all the climbers.
But we were to leave Kampa with our plan still in the air; Mallory’s and my points of disagreement were much narrowed down, but enough remained to preclude a, final decision. I cannot now remember the exact points on which we split, but I do remember the very pleasant spirit in which we differed. Mallory was, I think, impatient by nature; yet with me he showed throughout these discussions the most perfect patience and tact, and that despite the fact that, owing to his eleventh-hour decision to join this year’s Expedi- tion, I had been appointed leader of the climbing party, a role to which his previous record on the mountain might well have entitled him, and which he assumed as soon as I became leader of the Expedition.
On April 13 fell the blow that we had begun to fear. John Macdonald arrived alone with a couple of pack mules; the General, under Hingston’s escort, had had to return to Phari on a stretcher and so by easy stages to Yatung and Darjeeling. A note from Hingston left little doubt as to the wisdom of this decision. |
This was indeed a shot between wind and water, and we were a gloomy party in the mess tent that night. It is hard to explain to those who have not served under him what the loss of our leader meant to us. It was said of Wellington in the Peninsula that ‘‘ the sight of his old nose was worth 10,000 men” in a critical situation. General Bruce’s nose may not be much like that of the Great Duke, but it might well have been worth the last 1,000 feet of the mountain to an Everest expedition. He had a peculiar genius for the leadership of such an expedition ; his prestige among the Mongolian people of both Nepalese and Tibetan stock stood very high, for he understood these folk as few white men do, and his temperament was exactly suited to dealing
THE MARCH ACROSS TIBET 37
with them ; in the troublous times ahead of us his influence over the porters would have been invaluable, and he was both known and greatly trusted by the Tibetan officials with whom we were to deal. He had a happy knack of sweeping away difficulties in the most lighthearted and effective way, and, perhaps most important of all, he had the gift of uniting the British members of a party and of inspiring them with something of his own cheerful spirit. Looking back now I can see clearly that though we of the 1924 Expedition were perhaps as happy a family as ever faced together the trials inseparable from such enterprises, we lost from April 13th something of that lighthearted atmosphere which the General alone could maintain.
But if we were henceforth to be deprived of General Bruce’s leadership, he left us as legacy a most efficient organization ; I doubt if so strong a party will ever again be got together to climb Mount Everest. Of the climbers Mallory, Somervell, Geoffrey Bruce and myself had all been high in 1922, while Mallory had carried out the climbing reconnaissance in 1921 as well. Odell, Beetham and Hazard were Alpine climbers of notable speed and endurance and of great experience. Young Irvine’s record was somewhat different, for his mountaineering experience was limited (though sufficient to guarantee him a safe member of any climbing party) ; but he had rowed two years in the Oxford boat, and if further proof of the essential qualities of endurance and courage were necessary, he had given them amply while sledging in Spitzbergen with Odell the previous summer, and later ski-ing in Switzerland.
To anyone interested in ‘‘ make and shape” the party was an instructive study. By trial and error, so to speak, we have evolved a type to climb at extreme altitudes, and it is exactly the type which I have for many years believed to be the best all-round build for a man: 5 foot 11 inches in height and 11 stone 7 lb. in clothes. Mallory, Somervell, Geoffrey Bruce and Hazard fulfilled these conditions so nearly that they might all have exchanged clothes very
38 THE FIGHT FOR EVEREST
respectably, and in proof of the all-round usefulness of the type, I may add that Geoffrey Bruce is that rare combination —a horseman and an athlete of quite remarkable versatility. Hazard, perhaps the slimmest of the four, has been noted for feats of strength ; Somervell has to his credit an astonishing record of consecutive performance on the first-class peaks of the Alps ; while Mallory, the graceful and accomplished moun- taineer par excellence, had also made his mark at football and rowing. Odell only deviated from type by an inch or two of extra height, and he also had a record second to none for toughness and endurance both in the Alps and in Spitz- bergen.
Beetham and I were at opposite ends of the scale. Beetham, of stockier build than the rest, was active as a cat and—so Somervell declares—a perfectly heartbreaking man to live with in a long day in the Alps. Previous to this Expedition he had never been on a horse, but his force of character was more than equal to so mild a test as a twelve- hand Tibetan pony, and it was an inspiriting sight to see him scouring the plains of Tibet on ‘‘ Ginger,” whom he quite frequently persuaded to go in the direction he indicated. ‘It was grand to see that mountain horseman ride.”’ As for me, I approximate to Euclid’s definition of a straight line. Irvine, as befitted a rowing blue, was big and powerful —with fine shoulders and comparatively light legs; he was only 22, while the remaining seven climbers were all between 33 and 40 years of age.
Hingston being away, the only other members of the party at this time were Noel, Shebbeare, and John Macdonald. Noel accompanied us as cinema expert, and it was largely through him that the funds necessary to finance the Expedition had been provided. He ran a small organization of his own and was self-supporting as regards equipment, transport and personnel. As he had been a member of the 1922 party and had been to the North Col that year, he knew the ropes and, placing the good of the Expedition always before his own interests, he was a most valuable member of the 1924 party.
THE MARCH ACROSS TIBET 38
Shebbeare shared with Bruce the duties of transport officer: an officer of the Indian Forest Department, he had made a speciality of elephants, tame and wild, but the wilder the better. Tibet, however, is curiously deficient in elephants, and he owed his place on the Expedition to his great know- ledge of, and sympathy with, the Mongolian people of the foothills, and to a temperament which made him from the start as popular with the porters as he was with all of us. John Macdonald, the son of the British Trade Agent at Yatung, came with us to the Base Camp and thence returned to Phari, thus organizing that most efficient service of mail runners which kept the outer world in touch with our doings. His intimate knowledge of the Tibetans and his cheerful willingness to help us out in all our negotiations with the local officials were a great asset to the Expedition.
Our 70 odd porters, syces, cooks and domestic servants were all recruited in Darjeeling under General Bruce’s aus- pices. For the moment I will only speak in general terms of this splendid body of men, on whose shoulders we literally climbed Mount Everest. All without exception were of Mongolian stock—Bhotias (or true Tibetans) and Sherpas (Tibetan by race, but hailing from the higher valleys of Nepal). Like the British members of the party these men were carefully picked, and picked to a definite type evolved by previous experience. Light and wiry must be your good high-altitude porter, for he cannot afford to carry, in addition to his pack, a load of brawn and muscle. More, he must be a good-class man of some intelligence: the bucolic bump- kin with coarse features and slow brain fails no less than the “ hefty” giant, under the stress of high-altitude conditions. To deal with individually and en masse these men are singularly like a childish edition of the British soldier, many of whose virtues they share. They have the same high spirit for a tough and dangerous job; the same ready response to quip and jest. As with the British soldier, the rough character, who is perpetually a nuisance when drink and the attractions of civilization tempt him astray, often comes out strongest
40 THE FIGHT FOR EVEREST
when “up against it”? in circumstances where the milder man fails.
A strong element in our organization was a party of four Gurkha non-commissioned officers lent (for the second year in succession) by the kindness of the 2/6th Gurkha Rifles, the battalion which also lent the services of Geoffrey Bruce, and to which the Mount Everest Expedition owes a debt of gratitude.
In a later chapter their work will be described in greater detail, and all I shall say here is that in allotting tasks to the officers of the Expedition I always regarded these N.C.0.’s as so reliable that they could be employed in any position of trust—such as the care of our very considerable treasure chest—on an equal footing with officers. Perhaps the most salient characteristic which they all shared was a remarkable sense of duty. The subsequent loss of Lance-Naik Sham- sherpun was a very sad blow to all of us and cut short what would undoubtedly have been a brilliant military career.
Such was the party that I was now to lead; and I must take this opportunity of acknowledging another debt of gratitude: for if we owed the excellence of the party to the organization of General Bruce, I certainly owe the fact that we reached the mountain punctually, smoothly and without a hitch to the never-failing advice, guidance and organizing power of his cousin, Geoffrey Bruce. In 1922 I had not dealt with many of the Tibetan officials, whereas Geoffrey had assisted at all the General’s interviews, and so knew the ropes ; but it was as much his character and general efficiency as his previous experience which made him my more than right-hand man in 1924,
If the suaviter in modo was my strong point, he supplied the fortiter in re, and I remember our very good friend the Dzong Pen of Shekar simulating a certain anxiety when he enquired if that very determined young soldier was to take part in our discussions. When we pulled his leg about this afterwards, he replied, ‘‘ Well, it’s quite right that a soldier should be very firm.”’ Firm he could be, as some of the more
THE MARCH ACROSS TIBET 41
obstinate and obstructive Gyembus and minor officials dis- covered, on those trying occasions when, by about midday, the last twenty loads were still lying on the ground and the empty plains of Tibet showed no signs of disgorging the last of the promised transport.
We left Kampa Dzong on April 15. Our route to Tinki lay due west across a wide plain relieved by one long hog- backed hill half-way through the first day’s march. Crossing this, we regained the plain and camped that night at Linga, a pleasant camp surrounded by a swamp and a number of shallow ponds; here the ruddy sheldrake and bar-headed geese were already busy with domestic affairs and almost as tame as barndoor fowls. On April 16 our march skirted the swamp that leads to Tinki Lake. Shebbeare had preceded us by one day to Tinki to hasten the supply of transport, which we were to change at this stage, and which we had ordered some days previously from Kampa. As we approached the village he, with the Dzong Pen and a party of retainers, rode out to meet us.
The Dzong Pen, a youth of 21, held a temporary appoint- ment, pending confirmation from Lhasa, to the post of his father, with whom we had dealt in 1922 and who had since died. The lad proved courteous and friendly, and though we had a good deal of trouble to fix a reasonable rate for our transport, we finally succeeded in doing so and arranged to continue our march after one day’s halt.
On this day, in addition to a lot of useful work by all members of the party on stores and oxygen, we finally settled the outline of our plan of campaign. To Mallory goes all the credit of evolving, from the conflicting views held up to date by him and me, a plan which combined all the good points of both, and which was that evening unanimously approved by all the climbers in conclave. I will explain this plan later, for its details were worked out down to the last porter load and coil of rope before we reached the Base Camp. At the time we were all entirely satisfied with it, and though the Fates ruled that it should never be put into
42 THE FIGHT FOR EVEREST
execution, I still think that, with the knowledge we then had of our resources and the task before us, we could not have bettered it.
It was at Tinki also that another load was lifted from my mind. Our invalids here showed clear signs of recovery, To be exact, Mallory’s trouble had never become serious and had been mending from Kampa onwards, but it had been touch and go whether Beetham was not to leave us at that place and head for the Swedish Mission at Lachen in Sikkim, to rejoin us—possibly—on his recovery. In fact, I had advanced on his tent with an ultimatum to this effect, feeling like the executioner with the bowstring, and he must have recognized me as such, for never did victim put up a better fight for a few days’ grace. I finally gave in, and sternly bade him recover by Tinki—or thence seek a lower altitude. That he did recover by Tinki was due, I believe, to sheer dogged determination, anu it has always been a matter of keen regret to me that this obstinate quality, of which he has so large a share, was fated to be wasted in fighting up to Camp III this and a subsequent ailment, when it would have been so great an asset higher on the mountain. When I say that he recovered, I mean that he recovered from the acute stage, for you do not quickly recover from dysentery when you have been treating it for a fortnight in the Tibetan spring by marching 15 miles a day at an average height of 15,000 feet.
So it was with light hearts that we marched from Tinki on April 18 and headed for the Bahman Dopté Pass and the Chiblung Chu route to the Phung Chu valley.
Our transport for the next six days consisted almost entirely of donkeys. These tiny creatures carry the same load as a yak—160 lb.—at a distinctly faster pace and for any distance up to 25 miles a day over passes rising 3,000 feet above the plains. How their little legs—no thicker than walking-sticks—can do it, is a mystery.
By now we had got well into the swing of marching. The early mornings were usually still and gloriously sunny,
THE MARCH ACROSS TIBET 43
and we breakfasted in the open about 7 o’clock, by which time the big mess tent would be packed and away on a pair of fleet mules of our own which we had bought for this purpose in Kalimpong. By 7.30 or 8 the whole Expedition would be en route, strung out in little parties of donkeys, horse- men and pedestrians over a mile of country. We most of us rode and walked about half and half, for our experience of 1922 had taught us the necessity of saving the energies of the climbers for what was ahead. But there were some very determined pedestrians, notably Shebbeare, who seldom rode.
About 11.30 we would sit down by twos and threes, or collect into little parties in some sheltered spot—for by then the inevitable Tibetan wind would be going strong— and eat a light lunch of biscuit and cheese, chocolate and raisins. Weusually got into our new camp about 2, though we were occasionally as late as 7 p.m. The mess tent would be pitched and waiting for us, and often its well-known out- line would be a beacon to guide us the last mile or two. If all were well the position of camp would be further marked by a wisp of smoke from a yak-dung fire, indicating that the advanced cook had also arrived and had tea ready. In the grateful shelter of the tent we enjoyed a more substantial tiffin, and soon after our tents and belongings would begin to arrive. By 5 p.m. on most days the whole camp would be pitched and snug, and a visit to the porters’ tents would disclose a circle of grinning faces sitting round a yak-dung fire right inside each tent, with a savoury brew sizzling in the pot and an atmosphere that no European could have stood for five minutes. Dinner would be about 7.30, and so to bed by 8.30. The minimum temperature at night during this stage averaged 10° Fahrenheit pretty consistently.
What a happy life it was! The more so for a feeling of optimism that began to be apparent about this time, due partly to confidence in our plan, the details of which were shaping under our constant discussions ; partly to the increas- ing fitness and form of the party ; partly also, I think, to the
44 THE FIGHT FOR EVEREST
fact that we were beginning to know one another well— and with such a party mutual acquaintance could not but breed mutual respect and confidence.
I walked much with Mallory, and I remember how often we would wind up a long discussion on ways and means with the remark, “If only a non-oxygen party can sleep at 27,000 feet and an oxygen party at 26,500 feet, the trick is done—both ways.’ Dis aliter visum.
From Tinki we climbed to the Bahman Dopté Pass, at about 17,000 feet, and thence descended into the Chiblung Chu valley. This we followed for two days, and camped on the night of April 20 at its mouth, just above the quick- sands and old lake-bed near Shiling. On the morning of April 21 we climbed a hill above camp and enjoyed, at about 60 miles range, that most striking view of Mount Everest which the mountain presents to the east, for on this side it is a true snow-peak, its slopes running in clean straight lines from the summit 6,000 feet down to where its base is lost among the cluster of smaller peaks. A beautiful and a formidable mountain it seems from here.
On this day we entered the valley of the Phung Chu (or Arun, to give it its Nepalese name), whose left bank we followed for three days to Shekar Dzong. With the exception of our glimpse of Mount Everest from near Shiling we were now out of sight of the big snows, for the valley was shut in on both sides by unimpressive limestone hills rising 3,000 or 4,000 feet above the river. As we neared Shekar these grew always more completely barren and desolate, until one could picture oneself among the mountain scenery of the moon ; utterly devoid of vegetation, they were of every shade of colour, from lemon-yellow to rust-red or purple.
On April 23 we reached Shekar Dzong, and the Dzong Pen, our friend of 1922, rode out to meet us, greeted us most courteously and promised every assistance in his power. It was a relief to hear that our fresh transport was to be ready for us in two days. All details were arranged at an interview in camp the same afternoon, and it was a real
THE MARCH ACROSS TIBET 45
pleasure to deal with this straightforward and efficient gentleman—a man who was entirely master in his own house and who yet ran his subordinates so quietly. But quiet though he was, we did not fail to note that his Gyembus jumped to obey his orders.
I remember that through some slip or misunderstand- ing there was a small mistake made in the price fixed for our transport—a mistake in our favour—which, small though it was, was by no means negligible when multiplied by nearly 300. We at once offered to rectify this, but the Dzong Pen refused to go back on an undertaking he had once given.
April 24 was spent by all hands working in their various departments. It was here that Odell and Irvine, the oxygen experts, definitely ascertained that the apparatus supplied us had some very serious defects; a large proportion of its numerous valves were found to leak. Many of the cylinders were partially—some completely—empty, and various other defects came to light. The two experts, who had for days been working every afternoon, and often late into the night, put in a regular field-day, and finished by evolving a new and simplified arrangement of the apparatus, which was satis- factorily tested the same evening by Mallory and Somervell on the steep sides of the hill on which stand the fort and monastery. At my instance Odell wrote a comprehensive report on the faults of the apparatus, to be sent to the Mount Everest Committee.
I myself carried out a difficult duty here. This was to inform the various members of the climbing party in which attempt they were to take part. For some days, now that the plan of campaign had been decided in principle, I thought that I had detected a slight air of constraint and uneasiness in the party, and from my own feelings I judged that the sooner every one knew his place in the coming operations the better.
Our plan was briefly to attack the mountain at as early a date as possible by an attempt consisting of two parties of two climbers each, one pair equipped with oxygen, one
46 THE FIGHT FOR EVEREST
without. The two parties after sleeping at 26,500 feet and 27,200 respectively (or as near these heights as the porters could put their camps) were to go for the top on the same day, independently, but ready mutually to support one another. Four more climbers would support this attempt or remain in reserve, and in the event of an initial failure, these four would repeat the attempt with any modifications dictated by the experience of the first attempt.
It was significant of our confidence at this stage that most of us felt the odds were against a second attempt being necessary, and it will be guessed how keen was the competition —unexpressed though it was—to take part in the earlier attempt. It was one of the penalties of leadership that I had to take on myself the entire responsibility of allotting climbers to one or other of the attempts : not that I kept the decision in my own hands; on the contrary, I had discussed it exhaustively with Mallory, Somervell and Bruce—the three veterans of 1922—for some days.
As it turned out various considerations settled most of the places inevitably. A member of each party must know something either of Nepalese or Hindustani. The more experienced mountaineers must, as far as possible, be evenly distributed as well as those with previous knowledge of the mountain. Those who were fittest or promised to acclimatize early must take part in the first attempt, and each oxygen party must include one of the oxygen experts. My own position I left to Mallory and Somervell to decide.
The arrangement which resulted was as follows: First attempt, Mallory and Irvine with oxygen; Somervell and myself without. Second, Geoffrey Bruce and Odell with oxygen; Beetham and Hazard without. Of course this was to be subject to alterations dictated by the subsequent form of the members of the party. I explained this decision, with the reasons that led to it, at a conference of all the climbers the night before we left Shekar Dzong, and it was one of the first indications of the fine spirit which the 1924 party later showed so conspicuously that there was not a@
THE MARCH ACROSS TIBET 47
word of protest or dissatisfaction from any of the disappointed climbers.
We presented our friendly Dzong Pen with some of our most handsome and costly presents, but we subsequently heard that what his soul really yearned for was a cheap camp chair and a pair of the snow goggles with which our porters were equipped. The latter want was easily supplied, but we were short of chairs, and I could only promise to send him one from Darjeeling on our return—a promise I duly kept four months later.
On April 25 we started the last stage of our march, turning due south and heading directly for the mountain. The march from Shekar to Panglé is always a short and enjoyable one ; our journey was nearing its end, and the knowledge that we had only four or five more of these pleasant marching days ahead of us made me, for one, enjoy each one more and more. We were a large enough party to assure constant change of companionship and the possibility of sharing diversity of interests with the others. In the absence of Hingston, our naturalist, Shebbeare, Beetham and I all did a bit in the bird line; Odell’s geological knowledge was in great demand, and I spent many a pleasant hour watching Somervell sketching and feebly trying to emulate him.
These marches also afforded a good opportunity of getting to know the porters. Bruce, Shebbeare and I took every opportunity of watching their form on the march and of studying their characters. They were the most cheerful, friendly fellows imaginable, and responded instantly to a joke. One Mingma, a baby-faced lad whose character belied his innocent expression, had distinguished himself earlier in the march by biting off one of his friend’s fingers—so he became Mingma Kukar (the dog), and we used to bark and growl at him when we passed him on the road. Shebbeare would yarn away with the porters by the hour, and Somervell, who hit it off with them famously, often threw additional light on their characters, as he took the daily sick parade, and had an equally unerring eye for a malingerer or for the
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stout heart that made light of a genuine ailment. Of serious sickness among them I cannot remember a single case from Phari to the Base Camp.
We camped the night of the 25th at Panglé and next morning, after a light sprinkling of snow in the night, wo climbed the last high pass of our march. This pass, the Pang La, rises some 3,000 feet above our camp ; it is distin- guished from the many similar passes we had crossed by the fact that we reached it after just three weeks on the Tibetan plateau, and three weeks seems to be the period necessary to produce effective acclimatization. So here we watched our own form and that of our companions with some curiosity, as probably affording for the first time some definite indication of how we were going to shape in the bigger trials ahead. I was elated to find, on reaching the pass, that I had beaten my 1922 time by a quarter of an hour —the more so as I had had some heart-searching over one or two of the earlier passes: on the Bahman Dopté, for instance, Mallory and Odell had quite run away from me.
From the Pang La a striking panorama of the main Himalayan range comes into view, with Mount Everest, its central point, some 35 miles away as the crow flies. Four of the highest mountains in the world are to be seen in one cowp dail. Climb a small hill over the pass and you will add two more, one at each extreme flank. From left to right they run: Gosainthan, Cho Uyo, Gyachung Kang, Mount Everest, Makalu,and Kanchenjunga. And that nothing may be lacking from the grandeur of the view, each of the giants is so spaced from its neighbours that none is dwarfed, and each stands dominating the serried ranks of lesser peaks which stretch in a jagged wall from horizon to horizon. Above 20,000 feet or thereabouts all is snow and ice except where the cliffs are too sheer for snow to lie, with one exception. By some freak of the inclination of the rock to the impact of the perpetual north-west wind, the northern face of the whole topmost pyramid of Mount Everest—6,000 feet of it —is at this season almost bare of snow.
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The day was singularly windless, and the sun on the Southern side of the pass hot enough to allow us to sit for perhaps an hour, and out came binoculars and telescope, maps, cameras and sketch-books. We took the climb to the north- east shoulder—over 27,000 feet—as done, and every eye was turned on the last 2,000 feet. When we had climbed Mount Everest by every conceivable route, we turned our attention to Makalu, and were promptly stumped. It is going to be quite a long time before Makalu reaches the last stage of the once inaccessible Alpine peaks and becomes “‘an easy day for a lady.”
This barren pass—for its character belies its name, which means the grassy pass—is for some reason a great place for early flowers, butterflies and lizards, and we all scattered after specimens on the way down, finding but little this year to reward us, though I saw a tern (apparently the common tern) flapping its way northward over the pass ; truly spring migrants in Tibet must be inspired by the faith that moveth mountains.
That night we camped at Tashi Dzom, in the valley of the Dzakar Chu. We were now to follow it to its source, just above the Base Camp, where it emerges from the snout of the Rongbuk Glacier. Next day, April 27, we covered perhaps the dullest stage of all our journey, the 15 miles to Chédzong, the last village we pass through before entering a land of utter desolation relieved only by the big monastery at Rongbuk.
The stage from Chédzong to Rongbuk bears to the wide plains behind and the big glaciers ahead somewhat the same relation as, in an approach march of the Great War, the ruined areas bore to the fertile fields of France behind and the stricken battlefield ahead. For it is a cheerless, desolate valley suggestive at every turn of the greater desolation to which it leads. The valley is narrow and the river absurdly small to represent the drainage of four great glaciers with some dozens of smaller tributaries. The hills on both sides
are ugly brown humps of limestone devoid of any beauty E
50 THE FIGHT FOR EVEREST
of colour or form. For 10 or 15 miles on either bank of the river-bed stand the great moraines that once flanked the now shrunken glacier, for all the world like interminable railway embankments. Against the brown hillsides these moraines look almost white, for they are composed of crystalline rock which I, in my ignorance, should call granite (though Odell has another name for it). Every rock in them has fallen in some remote age from the cliffs of Mount Everest, Gyachung Kang, or their satellites. High above on the steep hillsides the snouts of glaciers begin to appear, almost hidden by their terminal moraines. The marked drop in temperature and the bite to the wind that blows straight off the big snow-fields above further serve to emphasize the fact that the land of ice and snow is getting very near.
Soon one gets a first glimpse of it, for the tributary valley of the Gyachung Chu opens up a peep of the great snowy amphitheatre of Gyachung Kang and its neighbours. Next a turn in the main valley shows a white shoulder which can only be the west peak of Everest. Soon comes another twist, and quite suddenly the familiar form of Everest itself and the Rongbuk monastery come almost simultaneously into sight.
We camped on the open stony shelf, itself the top of an old moraine, just in front of the monastery. It was a disappointment to hear that the head lama was sick and could not at present carry out the ceremony of blessing the whole expedition, on which, on behalf of our porters, we set considerable store. In addition to a selection of our best presents we sent him a yak-load of cement; this he had asked for in 1922, as he wanted it to carry out some repairs to the big ‘‘ chorten’? which overlooks the monastery, and we had brought it all the way from Darjeeling. Hazard, our ex-sapper, volunteered to give some instruction in how to mix and use it and, on an opportunity occurring later, was able to do so.
On April 29 we covered the last stage of our journey to the site of our old Base Camp, 4 miles up the valley from the monastery. Before leaving Rongbuk we said good-bye
THE MARCH ACROSS TIBET 51
to our good little ponies which had carried us so well for a large part of our 300-mile march from Darjeeling; the going above Rongbuk was too rough for them, and they turned back under the charge of our syces heading for a village in the valley below to enjoy a well-earned rest in its comparatively balmy climate and so-called pastures. I confess to having stifled a feeling of envy for them as we turned our faces in the opposite direction.
Picking our way through the tumbled heaps of old moraine, we found ourselves by 11.30 at the old camping-ground, which looked as if we had only left it yesterday. In another hour every yak had disappeared down the valley again, and the camp was as busy as an ants’ nest.
That was a hard day ; every one had his appointed task, and we now began to reap the fruits of all the work we had done with pencil and paper from Darjeeling onwards, for we were able to get to work with the minimum of delay and the maximum of organization. The tents were soon up; nearly 300 yak-loads of provision boxes, rolls of bedding and stores of all sorts, dumped higgledy-piggledy off the yaks, began to sort themselves into orderly lines and piles; and a steadily increasing dump of boxes and bundles, all appropriately labelled, represented the loads to start no later than the very next day for Camp I on the shoulders of our local Tibetan porters who had been specially enlisted for the purpose from Shekar and the intervening villages by the good offices of the Shekar Dzong Pen.
And then down came the snow: whirling powdery stuff, blotting out the landscape and making us bitterly cold, but —and this is the saving grace of this country—so devoid of any wetting quality that you can be snowed on for hours without any need even to change your coat; a shake and a brush and it is all gone. My diary notes that this was one of the coldest days that I had ever known at the Base Camp, and we all worked muffled to the eyes in our full outfit of wo ollen and wind-proof clothes ear-flapped caps and long mits. Butwekeptat it without stopping until dusk, and by
52 THE FIGHT FOR EVEREST
then were in a position to send off 150 porter-loads next day.
We had left Phari one day earlier than in 1922, and it had been my intention to make up one more day on the march so as to reach the Base Camp two days sooner than in that year, and in this we had succeeded. ‘The reason for haste was this: we hoped if all went well to put in our first attempt on the mountain as early as May 17. If this failed, and even should the monsoon break, as in 1922 (an excep- tionally early year), on June 1, we should still have ten days in which to make any necessary additions or modifications to the high camps before a second attempt ; and this interval might serve to allow some climbers from the first attempt to recuperate sufficiently to take part in or to support the second attempt, or even perhaps to form a third.
But before the first attempt, the general organization of which I have already described, could take place, there was much to be done. Camps I, II, and III had to be established and stocked; the route from Camp III to the North Col had to be reconnoitred by a party of climbers, for this route follows a steep glacier, and it was certain to have changed since 1922. Camp IV must then be established and stocked with stores and oxygen both for itself and the higher camps. Next Bruce and Odell were to escort a party of fifteen porters to a site for Camp V at about 25,500 feet, there to prepare the camp and dump tents and stores for it and for higher camps. Somervell and I were then to start from Camp IV, sleep one night at Camp V and another at Camp VII (at about 27,200) feet, and while we were climbing to the latter, Mallory and Irvine were to go from Camp IV to Camp VI at about 26,500 feet, there to sleep. With this programme to precede our combined attempt on the summit on May 17, it will be understood that time pressed.
Again it was considered important that the climbers should get above the Base Camp as soon as possible in order to continue the process of acclimatization, or rather adaptation to altitude, for though we were by this time well acclimatized to marching and sleeping at an average height of, say, 14,000
THE MARCH ACROSS TIBET 53
feet, with occasional excursions over passes 3,000 feet higher, we were now confronted with another step in the ladder. The Base Camp is at about 16,800 feet and every step beyond it is a step higher. To me, though perhaps not to all, a marked change takes place at about 16,000 feet. Above this height the not very serious malaise that we experience on the outward march becomes something more definite and unpleasant. On first arrival at the Base Camp one is conscious of it all the time; the least exertion, such as getting into a sleeping-bag or putting on one’s boots, is exhausting ; lighting a pipe is quite a business, for one’s breath gives out about the same moment as the match, and the pipe has gone out before it is recovered.
I confess that the first trip to Camp I is pain and grief to me. I remember that the first time I did it this year my right arm and shoulder became weary merely from the weight of my ice axe, and I thought I should have to find a lighter axe. Walking is a labour, and in the keenest air there is no exhilaration; rather is there an indefinable feeling of discomfort and distress.
After a trip or two to Camp I things improve, but the process is repeated with each new rung in the upward ladder until further acclimatization is achieved, and though, on returning to the Base after a sojourn at Camp III or higher, one forgets much of this unpleasantness, yet I am convinced that life above 16,000 feet is never quite what it is below that level. There seems to be something lacking all the time, and indeed there 7s something lacking—and that something the very breath of life—oxygen.
So finished the first phase of the Expedition ; we were up to time, and we had a surprisingly clean bill of health. So smoothly had the machine run so far that we may be pardoned if we were optimistic as to the future. If the party which met for dinner in the mess tent at 7 p.m. that night was not hilarious, all, I think, displayed the tempered cheerfulness of high altitudes; we little guessed what rude buffets the future had in store for us.
CHAPTER III THE RONGBUK GLACIER . By CAPTAIN J. G. BRUCE, M.C.
As Colonel Norton has already described, the first attempt on the summit was fixed to take place on May 17, by which time it was calculated that the three glacier camps and the camp on the North Col would be established and stocked. There was, however, a great deal to be done in these few days. Nota moment could be wasted, and the great rapidity with which the first two camps were completed was due, firstly, to the very careful calculation and labelling of boxes and equipment done by Norton and Shebbeare before the Expedition left Darjeeling, and, secondly, to the tactful and skilful manner in which the Gurkha N.C.O.’s handled the local labour.
On arrival in the Base Camp, we had with us just over 150 local Tibetans, who had been recruited, with the permission of the Shekar Dzong Pen, from the area between Shekar and Rongbuk. Our arrangement with them was that they should be paid at the rate of 4 tankas a day (about a shilling), and given some rations. They were not to be employed on snow or ice, and were to be quickly released when the work was done as they had the sowing of their fields to attend to. They undertook to look after themselves as regards other amenities, which meant that they were quite satisfied to sleep in the open at 18,000 feet with no cover or blankets. Had they been of a less hardy race, their maintenance in such country would have been wellnigh impossible.
In order to save the climbers from any arduous work before it was absolutely necessary, I suggested to Norton
54
THE RONGBUK GLACIER 55
that the Gurkha N.C.O.’s should be allowed to establish the first two camps, putting into Camp IT all necessary stores and equipment for camps farther on. He agreed to this proposal, and on April 30 three of them set out from the Base Camp with a convoy of 150 Tibetans, men, women, and boys, carrying at least 40 lb. each regardless of age or sex. I made considerable efforts before their departure to hand out the lightest loads to the women and boys, but it was no good, and I had to resort to the only plan that ensures swift allotment and complete satisfaction in Tibet. Tibetans all wear prettily woven garters of distinct colouring round the tops of their boots, and immediately recognize their own colours. The best method of distributing loads consists in collecting a garter from each person, shuffling them well, and throwing one on to each load. The owner of the garter then claims his or her load, and carries it all day without further complaint.
We were lucky in having a glorious day for this first move. From the Base Camp we could watch the coolies threading their way up the stony valley, singing and joking as they went, then taking to the higher route along the shelf, and finally disappearing from sight into the mouth of the East Rongbuk Glacier. This was a really good start, and we felt optimistic for the future. That evening in the Base Camp the dinner to celebrate our safe arrival was a large affair—five courses and champagne.
Two of the three N.C.O.’s conducting the convoy to Camp I had been with the previous Expedition of 1922, and could be relied on to reconnoitre the route from Camps I to II without assistance from us. Their orders were to send seventy-five coolies back to the Base Camp on arrival at Camp I, and to keep the other seventy-five with them for the first move to Camp II next day. Seventy-five came back all right from Camp I, but next morning we were greeted with the news that fifty-two had disappeared in the night. This was a very serious matter, for everything depended on these men, and a transport strike at this juncture would
56 THE FIGHT FOR EVEREST
effectively cripple the whole programme. So Norton, Sheb- beare and I went up to Camp I to see how the N.C.O.’s were faring. We were relieved to find no evidence of discontent, and that everything was running smoothly.
Just after we arrived the convoy of seventy-five Tibetans from Camp II came in. They were full of cheer. We told them that they were doing splendid work, and if they com- pleted Camp II with all the necessary loads by the following evening we would give them extra wages and a good feed. They were delighted, and promised to see the matter through. Although we made full enquiries, no light could be thrown on the sudden departure of the fifty-two from the Base Camp.
The performances of the women are worthy of record. One carried her child of about two years on the top of her 40 Ib. load from 17,500 feet to 19,800 feet, deposited her load there and carried the child back again. She at once expressed her readiness to repeat the journey if necessary. Another woman of maturer age—she had grey hair—treated us to a little step dance before sitting down to her food. It was a great relief to find them like this, and we calculated that by using some of our own porters in place of the fifty-two deserters, the programme could yet be kept up to time. Moreover the N.C.O.’s told us that the route between Camp I and II had scarcely changed at all in the last two years, and had presented no difficulties.
Camp I was—for the Rongbuk Glacier—a snug retreat which managed to catch any sunshine going, while missing most of the wind. It was situated a few hundred yards from the junction of the main and East Rongbuk Glaciers. Away from it on both sides of the stream ran steep scree slopes culminating in vertical cliffs. Here and there one could see pillars of rock fashioned by the wind almost into the shape of men. The “ Sangars ”’ built by the 1922 Expedi- tion were still in good condition, and by stretching the flies of the Whymper tents over them, comfortable shelters for the N.C.O.’s had been made. Camp I was easily the best camp on the glacier, but unfortunately the one that could
THE RONGBUK GLACIER 57
be least used by reason of its distance from the mountain.
After drinking a mug of hot tea with Tejbir, Hurke and Shamsher, we started for the Base Camp. On our way down we passed a party of Noel’s photographic men, leading two of their mules laden with cinematograph outfit towards CampI. They said that they had experienced little difficulty in getting mules along. Theyreached Camp I all right, and repeated the journey several times on subsequent days. But the inadequate supply of fodder for the mules, which had to be brought up from Chodzong to the Base Camp, a distance of about 22 miles, made the employment of coolies better worth the while in the end. For this reason I do not think animal transport on a large scale beyond the Base Camp is deserving of consideration.
In the meanwhile every one at the Base Camp had been busy perfecting the plans, and making ready for a move beyond Camp II as soon as news was received of its comple- tion. On the evening of May 2 a note was brought into camp from Tejbir and Hurke, to the effect that all loads were safely deposited in Camp II, and that they were sending down the coolies to be paid off. This was indeed a great success, particularly as there had been a slight snowstorm during the day, and we had feared that it might interrupt the smooth working of the convoys. Towards evening the coolies arrived, and we gave them their promised feed and extra pay. It was delightful to see these simple folk enjoying a good feed and apparently satisfied with their lot. We were certainly satisfied with what they had done. Six of the best coolies among them were kept on for odd jobs about the camp, and the rest went happily back towards Rongbuk.
The next task before us was the transportation from Camp IT of the necessary stores for Camp III and the higher camps. For this work our own porter corps was formed into two parties of twenty each, and a reserve of twelve. Briefly, these parties were to be utilized as follows:
No. 1 party was to go through with some of the climbers to Camp III, establish it, and remain based there for the
58 THE FIGHT FOR EVEREST
purpose of getting the next camp on to the North Col. A day later No. 2 party was to move to Camp II, and work between II and III. The reserve party was to remain at the Base Camp ready to replace casualties among the first two parties, for in dealing with Everest, anywhere beyond the Base Camp may be considered as the “ danger zone,” and trouble may surely be expected in some form or another. To the Gurkha N.C.O.’s was given the responsible task of taking charge of a glacier camp each, which included seeing to the feeding and welfare of every one in it, and supervising the arrivals and departures of convoys.
As the success or failure of the attempt scheduled to take place on May 17 depended so greatly on the work of our porter corps during the next two weeks, a slight digression may here be permissible in order to give some idea of them and their limitations. Apart from cooks, syces, and bootmakers, we had enlisted seventy men as carriers in Darjeeling during March. News had preceded us that we should require men to accompany the Expedition, and volunteers were so plentiful that we found a small army of nearly 300 from which to pick. Among them were many who had taken part in the 1922 Expedition, and those who had done really well that year were at once re-engaged. The selection of the remainder with nothing but appearance to go by was a difficult matter, and bound to be in the nature of a gamble, since there were neither time nor means available to test them individually. The guiding principle was to take men of obviously good breeding who appeared lithe and active in preference to the thick-set and at first sight more impressive-looking giants. Among those finally chosen there were, nevertheless, several big men, but it is interesting to note that when the time came none of them were fit enough to take part in the really high climbs.
The journey from Darjeeling to the Base Camp afforded excellent opportunity for getting the porter corps into good physical condition for the hard work before them, and at the same time to study them closely with a view to ear-marking
“MHIOVTL) MOADNOY LV
THE RONGBUK GLACIER 59
those likely to go high on the mountain. Throughout this period they always had the best of food, clothing, and tent accommodation, and were never burdened with heavy loads. This policy amply repaid us, for when we arrived at the Base Camp we had none of them on the sick-list. To keep them upon the straight and narrow path for several weeks had been no easy matter, for Sherpas and Bhotias are a light-hearted and inconsequent people with a thirst that has to be quenched.
As carriers they are unsurpassed, for they are brought up to it from their youth. When quite small children they learn to carry loads, fetching and carrying water and grain for the upkeep of their homes. Born and bred in the moun- tains they are sure-footed and self-reliant, and owing to the rigorous climate of their homes can withstand more than average exposure and fatigue. Some of our porters were inhabitants of Solah Khombu, a Sherpa settlement in Nepal, just to the south of the Nangba La. Solah Khombu lies on one of the main trade routes between Nepal and Tibet, and the two countries are separated by the high Nangba Pass, 19,000 feet above sea-level. That these people think little or nothing of traversing this high and wind-swept pass is clearly shown by the fact that there is continuous traffic across it for five months of the year, and that among the travellers are fre- quently to be seen women carrying their babies and small children on their backs.
The severe tests of this year showed us how extremely difficult it is to gauge the true form of the porter, and to estimate how much strength and determination he has left after a certain amount of hardship. One minute all goes well, the next he collapses both physically and mentally, having apparently reached a limit beyond which he cannot go. I do not say that this happened in every case. The Tigers,” for instance, whose exploits will be described later, never failed us, and very few ever gave in before they put their loads into camp.
May 3 was a cold, stormy day, with threatening clouds in the sky, when the first party of climbers and porters set
60 THE FIGHT FOR EVEREST
out from the Base Camp. The climbers were Mallory and Irvine, whose intention it was to help with the establishment of Camp III, and then remain there for a few days to acclima- tize and test their oxygen apparatus ; and Odell and Hazard, who were to push on from Camp III and construct the route up the North Col. Noel, with a portion of his cinema outfit, accompanied them, and on the next day Havildar Umar and the second party of porters followed. The rest of us had another day or two to wait at the Base Camp in order to give the first lot time to accomplish their tasks.
The Base Camp daily presented scenes of considerable activity. Our chonzay * had his fuel (yak-dung) and meat supplies coming in regularly from below, and these had to be checked and paid for. One day a couple of enterprising Sherpas from Solah Khombu, remembering that the previous expedition had been glad to buy vegetables, came into camp with potatoes to sell. We bought them all, and sent them back for more. Another day a suspicious-looking villain, leading two donkeys with equally suspicious-looking loads, was found to be a purveyor of Chinese spirit, and had to be removed outside the 3-mile limit. On another occasion a messenger came in bearing a complaint from the Shikar of Tashi Dzom to the effect that we had “‘ beaten two of his subjects without reason at Rongbuk.’’ Untrue though the allegation was, we could not ignore it, for much of our supplies and the welfare of the ponies we had left with him depended upon this man’s good-will. Accordingly Paul, the inter- preter, was despatched to visit Tashi Dzom, and to do what he could to pacify the Shikar. This ambassadorial réle exactly suited Paul’s fancy, and as soon as he was able to procure a pony, he went off looking very important—a vain young man, but efficient. He carried out his mission most satisfactorily, and came back a week later with all kinds of friendly messages from the Shikar.
Before Norton left the Base Camp he gave the Gurkha surveyor, Hari Singh Thapa, who was attached to the Expedi-
* A subordinate official of a Tibetan district.
THE RONGBUK GLACIER 61
tion from the Survey of India Department, full instructions about what he was to do during the next few weeks. The most important piece of country to be dealt with was the West Rongbuk Glacier, but it was thought unsafe to send the survey party without at least one expert climber to escort them. As there were no climbers available for the West Rongbuk Glacier, Hari Singh was told to do two important but easily accessible areas, one in and around Gyachung Kang Glacier, and the other to the east of the Rongbuk Monastery. He set off on May 5, with a small convoy of local coolies, on what subsequently proved to be a very success- ful survey expedition.
There was a further exodus on the 6th, when Norton, Somervell and Beetham moved out. Norton and Somervell were to go quietly through to Camp III, and gradually acclimatize themselves before their non-oxygen attempt on the 17th. Beetham was almost fit again. He had made a marvellous recovery, mainly by sheer determination not to give in and allow himself to be packed off to Darjeeling. As he could not yet be counted upon to take part in this first attempt, he volunteered to help generally all along the line, and particularly to assist Noel with his photographic work.
So far everything appeared to be running smoothly ahead. My turn to follow up the glacier came on May 7. Norton had asked me to follow up behind the rest of the party, make a thorough inspection of each camp en route, and ensure that the non-commissioned officers understood exactly what they had to do. I had to join Odell in Camp IIT by the lth, ready to go on with him up the mountain and establish Camp V. I took with me the reserve party, among whom were some of the old hands of 1922. They had originally rather resented being relegated to this job, for they had all been told that the men to go highest would reap the greatest rewards, and they considered that they were not getting a fair start. I did my best to assure them that they were there for a good purpose, little thinking at the time how soon this would be proved.
62 THE FIGHT FOR EVEREST
We arrived at Camp II on May 8, and found the tents pitched in the same spot as they were two years ago, beside the frozen lake, with the high wall of glittering ice cliffs closing it in on the lower side. Instead of finding the camp empty except for a cook and an odd porter or two, we found it fully occupied. There had been a severe breakdown, which would undoubtedly have developed into a complete collapse of the porters had Norton not been present at the critical moment to keep them on their feet and restore their ebbing courage and spirits. He explained to me what had hap- pened on the two previous days. He and Somervell reached Camp II on May 7 without incident, but on arrival discovered that No. 2 party based there had encountered such appalling weather that Mallory had decided to form a dump on the glacier, a mile short of camp, and send them back. That evening between four and six o’clock they observed some porters staggering wearily down the glacier from the direction of Camp III. These men belonged to the first party, and had made one journey to the camp with full loads two days before. They had since then been confined to their tents in Camp ITI, with only one blanket apiece, and a little uncooked barley to eat, and were now driven out unable to bear it longer, utterly exhausted. This meant that there was almost double the number of men in Camp II that it was calculated to accommodate, and all of them in need of nursing and comforting. Consequently all the stores and tents intended for the higher camp had at once to be broken open and distributed to meet this grave emergency. Mallory, Irvine, Hazard and Odell, with two or three men, were apparently still in Camp III, but no further news was forthcoming until Mallory himself came down to Camp II early next morning (a few hours before the reserve party and I arrived). His story amplified the information the porters had given. He said that a terrible wind with a temperature as low as —22° F. had played havoc with the men, and had resulted in the failure of the second party to carry as far as Camp III. Con- sequently the party already in Camp III had been stranded
THE RONGBUK GLACIER 63
with only the barest necessities of life for forty-eight hours. He had ordered them back himself, and, owing to their dis- heartened condition, only with the greatest difficulty induced them to leave their tents and move down. He also said that Odell, Hazard and Irvine were remaining in Camp III, and that the two former were to make an attempt that day to reconnoitre the North Col route.
This was the situation on May 8, and a very unenviable one, particularly for our leader, upon whose shoulders rested the responsibility of deciding what the next move was to be. Fortunately for us all, he was one of those really great leaders of men, who by their own resolution and courage inspire their comrades and followers with some measure of their own qualities. Norton is certainly one of these, though, characteristically, in his despatches he takes no credit for the resumed advance to himself. He wisely decided.to rest the first party at Camp II, while Somervell, who was always a great favourite with the men, and who had a happy way of getting the best out of them, should take the second party up as far as the dump with loads, and get them to carry from there to Camp III sufficient stores and bedding to make the camp habitable. If the first party of porters could be pulled together again in twenty-four hours’ time, they wcre then to be utilized to keep Camp III supplied from Camp II. The breaking up of stores and equipment intended for high camps, and the temporary dislocation of the programme, made it necessary to call up Shebbeare from the Base Camp to take charge of Camp II, where his knowledge of the men and their language would be of the utmost value. But he could not be removed from his important post at the Base Camp, leaving our money bags and the fuel and meat arrange- ments to look after themselves. So messages were despatched telling Hazard to relieve Shebbeare at the Base, and Shebbeare to come up to Camp II as soon as he had handed over the Base Camp to Hazard.
The rest of that day was spent in revising plans and cheering up the men for another effort. On the following
64 THE FIGHT FOR EVEREST
morning Norton, Mallory and I, with twenty-six porters, started off for Camp III. The presence of the reserve party was a great asset, for being fresh they were able to do most of the heavy carrying, and their energy and keenness had a very favourable effect upon the others.
The route over the glacier was almost the same as in 1922, except that, instead of crossing the ‘‘ trough,”’ it followed up it until the general level of the glacier was almost reached. Even in this case blue pinnacles of ice surrounded us like a forest. Some of them were gigantic at the lower end of the “trough,” getting smaller and fewer as we emerged to the glacier itself. The glacier surface consisted of absolutely smooth ice, varied by depressions and cracks full of powdery snow. Here, as well as in the “trough,” crampons were of the utmost assistance, and the porters were quick in appreci- ating their value. Without them, this stage of the journey was always a very tiring and tedious one, and ordinary climbing nails were not sharp enough to grip the surface.
Snow began falling soon after we left Camp II, and con- tinued to fall all day. About half-way Hazard met us, making his way down to the Base Camp to relieve Shebbeare. He told us that he and Odell had tried to reconnoitre the North Col the day before, but had been unable to get higher than some three-quarters of the way to Camp IV and to make a dump of some ropes and pegs at the foot of the ice slopes. We gathered from him that Camp III was an exceedingly unpleasant place. With the wind and snow increasing every moment it was obviously going to be even worse than he painted it, but it was little use trying to talk in half a gale, s0 we bade him farewell, and pushed on as rapidly as possible. From the dump we sent back to Camp II all except eight of the reserve party. By the time we reached Camp III (21,000 feet) the wind and snow had assumed proportions of a real blizzard, which was to last for forty-eight hours. Camp III was a picture of desolation. Though situated in the: only possible place for a camp, it seemed to catch every icy blast that blew. No one moved about the camp ; it seemed utterly
THE RONGBUK GLACIER 65
lifeless. The porters there were wretched, and this terrible blizzard, coming immediately on top of their hardships of a few days ago, completely damped their spirits and energy. Many of them became 80 apathetic that they would not even attempt to cook for themselves, even when stoves and oil were pushed inside the tents for them. Our eight stalwarts of the reserve again proved their value in helping with the cooking and comfort of the others. But the fierceness of the wind made movement outside a tent almost impossible, so after a hasty meal we turned in, two to a tent, where the excellent sleeping-bags at any rate afforded warmth.
The blizzard continued with unabating violence, and snow drifted into our tents covering everything to a depth of an inch or two. The discomfort of that night was acute. At every slightest movement of the body a miniature avalanche of snow would drop inside one’s sleeping-bag and melt there into a cold wet patch. It was a very severe test on the tents, and although the largest of them only weighed 16 lb. not a single one gave way under the terrific strain. Morning came, and the snow stopped falling, but fallen snow was being driven along the surface of the glacier, producing the same effect as a blizzard. Up to ten o’clock it was useless to attempt to leave the shelter of a tent. It was then that Kami, our cook, produced for us a breakfast that none of us will ever forget. How he succeeded in cooking anything will remain a mystery. He announced that the meal was ready, and the five of us crowded into the tent nearest his to eat it, looking forward more than anything to a mug of hot tea. To our intense disappointment, however, tea was not yet ready. The first dish thrust into the tent con- tained what Kami was pleased to call “‘ monkri,”’ and which on closer investigation proved to be macaroni. Without wishing to appear ungrateful to Kami, I must say that it was a most unappetising dish. Unfortunately we could not have our tea until we had disposed of the “‘ monkri”’ and handed back the pot for the tea to be brewed in. After an
hour’s wait the tea came, and was most hot and comforting. F
66 THE FIGHT FOR EVEREST
We clamoured for more, although it had been brewed in the same greasy pot as the macaroni. At the time we were not particularly struck by the humorous side of this meal, but afterwards reference to “‘monkri’”’ and ‘‘ Kami cha,” * never failed to produce a laugh.
After breakfast the situation was discussed, and it was decided that Mallory and Irvine should move down to Camp II that day, as both of them were showing signs of the strain that had been imposed upon them, and prepare for the possibility of evacuating altogether should this kind of weather continue. These two had been in the thick of it from the start, never sparing themselves for a moment. Irvine’s capacity for work was immense. After the most gruelling day on the glacier, he would settle down with his tools inside a tent, improving the oxygen apparatus, or mend- ing stoves, regardless of time or temperature, long after the rest of us were inside our sleeping-bags.
When Mallory and Irvine left us, the wind was still tearing across the glacier, snatching up the snow and hurling it through the camp. Later in the day Norton and Somervell did a fine piece of work in finding their way down to the dump with seventeen of the porters and bringing up nineteen loads, of which they carried one each. I was left in camp with Odell and a few men to make arrangements for a hot meal for every one, and to get the snow out of the tents. The porters who went to the dump with Norton and Somervell were just about played out when they returned. Struggling back against that piercing wind had taken all the strength out of them. They simply flopped into their tents and lay there. We forced them to eat and drink, took off their boots, and saw them safely tucked into their sleeping-sacks. I do not think I have ever seen men so tired, and it was not to be wondered at, for the majority of them had carried loads through wind and snow on five successive days.
As evening came on, the wind blew still harder in tre- mendous gusts from every direction. All the tents were
* Kami’s tea.
ms = “ Zz Z
EAS
TROUGH
Tue
THE RONGBUK GLACIER 67
again filled with snow with all the consequent discomfort. The cold was intense, and the thermometer fell to 39° below freezing-point. Sleep was an impossibility with the noise of the wind and the wild flapping of the tents. Dawn came at last, but the wind still continued. It was now quite obvious that the North Col would be impracticable for several days even if the weather improved. So there was no other course open but retreat. As we were talking over plans at 9 a.m., the temperature was still below zero. The first step was to turn out the men and strike the tents, as it was not considered safe to leave them standing exposed to the elements during our absence. This was easier said than done, and it was some time before we were able to make the men move at all. They were huddled in their tents, not caring whether they lived or died, and even the idea of with- drawing to the Base Camp with its comforts, warmth and good food left them unmoved. Eventually, however, they were persuaded to face it, and while I struck the tents, Norton and Somervell made lists of what was left in the camp.
Then we took to what Norton has aptly described as the ‘Via Dolorosa,”’ first down the wind-swept glacier to Camp II, then the rough miles of tumbled moraine, withdrawing every man to the Base Camp, with a melancholy procession of snow-blind, sick, and frost-bitten men, being shepherded down by their comrades.
Just outside Camp II we met Irvine. He told us that one of the porters—Tamding—had fallen with his load on the ice and broken his leg, and that Somervell’s services were urgently required to set it. The man had been Somer- vell’s servant on the journey across Tibet, and during that time Somervell had lost one or two articles of underwear, which had never been traced. Inspection of the fractured limb now revealed the fact that the missing garments had been “borrowed”? by Tamding. The condition of his leg was not very serious, though it gave him considerable pain, and arrangements had to be made to carry him down to the Base Camp.
68 THE FIGHT FOR EVEREST
« By the evening (May 11) Mallory, Beetham, Irvine and Noel were at the Base Camp, Somervell and Odell with half the porters at Camp I, and Norton and I with the other half of the porters at Camp II.
Norton and I shared a tent there which had been put in order for us by Shebbeare, and turned in early to have a long sleep. When I woke up in the morning I remarked that I had enjoyed an extremely comfortable night’s rest, and was surprised to find Norton not in the least enthusiastic about the manner in which he had passed the night. He appeared to be examining his bedding and comparing it with mine, and finally pointed out that while he had only one thickness of eiderdown between him and the East Rongbuk Glacier, I had been “ hogging it” on no less than two eiderdown quilts and two thick mattresses !
We started down from Camp II at 9.15 a.m., leaving tents and stores as they stood ready for reoccupation. Tamding had to be brought down in a carrier, and reached the Base Camp by evening. We found Somervell at Camp I with his hands full. Casualties were mounting up, and there were some very sick men. The worst case was Shamsher, one of the Gurkha N.C.0O.’s, practically insensible, suffering from a clot of blood on the brain. Manbahadur, the cobbler, was in a fearful condition with both his feet frost-bitten up tothe ankles. Another man was down with severe pneumonia, while many had minor ailments. We managed to get them all away except Shamsher, who could not be moved, and a N.C.O. and a couple of porters were left to look after him.
What a haven of rest the Base Camp seemed to be that night! Warm spacious tents, hot food in plenty, and luxuri- ouscamp beds. Best of all Hingston, whom we had already met near Camp I en route to visit Shamsher, was there to cheer us up and to administer comfort to the sick and needy. He had arrived on the 11th, just when he was most wanted, having conducted General Bruce safely to Gangtok and hastened across Tibet to rejoin us.
So ended the first attempt to reach the mountain.
THE RONGBUK GLACIER 69
This setback was a very great disappointment, but the Expedition, though much weakened as the result of it, was far from defeated. A few days’ rest was the first consideration, during which time it was hoped that the weather would really clear up, and give us the chance we wanted. On the morning of May 13 Paul, the interpreter, was despatched to the Rongbuk Monastery to request the Holy Lama to bless all our men on the 15th. They were very anxious to obtain his blessing, and on our part we gave them every encourage- ment and assistance in arranging for it. A trip down to the monastery would do them a lot of good, while the influence of the Lama’s blessing would be invaluable in helping to restore their moral. After only one night at the Base Camp they were beginning to look more like themselves again, but it was obvious that if we were to get the best out of them, some reorganization would be necessary. After breakfast Norton and I talked it all over, and decided to make them up into three definite parties, each to be led by a selected porter, with the next best as his second-in-command to take charge if anything happened to the leader. These leaders and seconds-in-command would be given extra pay, and be generally treated as non-commissioned officers. The one advantage that accrued from the hardships of the past week was that we now had a really good idea of which were the outstanding men, and had little difficulty in selecting six a8 leaders. We then called them up, and explained what was expected of them. In arranging the parties we allowed them, as far as possible, to pick their own men. They seemed very pleased with the idea, and the scheme had the advantage of supplying a little healthy rivalry and esprit de party throughout the porter corps. Of the three originally selected as leaders, Narbu Yishé and Lobsang subsequently became famous, when with the strongest of their respective parties they carried loads to Camp VI at nearly 27,000 feet. In reorganizing the porters, we were careful to have at least two men in each party detailed for training in the use of meta (solidified spirit) and the Primus stove.
70 THE FIGHT FOR EVEREST
Meanwhile Hingston was busy attending to the sick men in camp. Manbahadur, the cobbler, was still in a terrible state, and even if he had lived would undoubtedly have lost both feet as far as the ankle. All the rest were progressing well. Hingston and I with a stretcher party set out at about eleven o’clock for Camp I to see Shamsher, hoping that after a quiet night’s rest he would be better, but Hurke met us aS we came into camp, and said that he thought Shamsher was worse. This was indeed the case, and Hingston decided that the only hope of saving his life lay in moving him down toa lower altitude. He was placed on a stretcher, and although carried with the utmost care, was unable to last out the journey and died that evening half a mile from the Base Camp. By his death the expedition were the poorer of a gallant and loyal young man, who had worked with the most conspicuous and whole-hearted zeal through- out. Manbahadur died a few days later, and they were buried in a sheltered spot near the Base Camp.
The following day was a busy one, and though the camps as far as III were established and partially stocked, there was a great deal to do in correcting the lists and ensuring that nothing was left out. The porters’ food and clothing also required much attention, and the men detailed as cooks had to be shown how to use the Primus stoves. The weather was still very unsettled, and that afternoon snow fell in the Base Camp, and the mountain looked impossible all day.
May 15 was the day fixed for the blessing. The whole expedition was to be blessed—climbers, Gurkhas and porters. Before we started each man was given 2 rupees with which to make an offering to the Lama, and then we all set out for the Rongbuk Monastery, 4 miles down the valley. On arrival the men were told to remain in the large outer court, while we were taken up a flight of narrow stairs to the Lama’s antechamber, where a table was laid for a meal. The usual form of Tibetan dish, consisting of macaroni and spices, was handed round by some of the young Lamas of the monastery, and was quite appetising. We were then taken into the
THE RONGBUK GLACIER 71
presence of the Holy Lama, who was seated at an altar on his roof-court, attended by a dozen lesser Lamas. We were given seats along the sides of the court opposite him, while our men filled up the space in the middle. In turn we walked up to his altar, and he touched each of us upon the head with his silver prayer wheel which he held in his left hand. The Gurkhas and porters followed us, and appeared to be deeply affected by the simple ceremony. The Lama then delivered a short but impressive address, encouraging the men to persevere, and assuring them that he would personally pray for them. Nothing could have been more satisfactory. The reverence with which the men entered and left the presence of the great Lama was eloquent proof of his influence over them. His prayers and blessing put fresh heart into them, and on the return journey to the Base Camp they were very nearly their cheery normal selves once more. That evening Paul came to the mess tent and announced that the porters were all very pleased and grateful “to him and the Colonel Sahib ”’ for having arranged for the ceremony.
The 16th was a brilliantly fine day, not a cloud in the sky, and the mountain clear and serene. It looked as if this weather had really come to stay, and so it was decided to make a fresh start next day. Since our return to the Base Camp on the 12th, Mallory had been busy making a new pro- gramme, showing the movements of each climber and each party of porters for the next ten days. The intention was to put the original scheme in motion again, with the date of the final attempt on the summit put back from May 17 to 29. As a preliminary move, the Gurkha N.C.O.’s and a small party of men left the camp on the evening of the 16th, and reoccupied Camp I, so that there should be no delay in making a real start on the morrow. Arrangements seemed as perfect as we could get them that night, and we were hopeful that great things might yet be accomplished. Next morning, however, trouble again appeared—Beetham was down with an acute attack of sciatica, and could scarcely move. It was hard luck that the Fates should have thus
72 THI FIGHT FOR EVEREST
afflicted him just as he was recovering his true form and was so tremendously keen to take his place at the front.
By the evening of May 19 the Expedition was once more in full occupation of the glacier up to Camp III. Weather conditions appeared much more favourable, and the last day or two had been bright and sunny, though there was a certain amount of cloud about the mountain. The climbers were distributed as follows:
Norton, Somervell, Mallory, Odell at Camp ITI.
Irvine and Hazard at Camp II, en route for Camp III.
Shebbeare, in charge of the working of convoys up the glacier, at Camp II.
Noel and I at Camp I, en route for Camp III.
Hingston and Beetham at the Base Camp.
How the Expedition fared in this renewed advance will be described in the next chapter by Colonel Norton.
CHAPTER IV THE NORTH COL By LIEUT.-COLONEL E. F. NORTON, D.8.0.
This chapter deals with that phase of the campaign of 1924 in which we struggled to establish ourselves on the North Col. Looking back on it all now one realizes that it was really the decisive one. Ina sense we won, for we did succeed in establishing Camp IV on its selected position, yet the effort left the party so weakened that our ultimate failure became almost a foregone conclusion.
Throughout this phase it is important for the reader to remember that a vital consideration was our uncertainty as to the date of the arrival of the monsoon. In 1922 it had broken on June 1; the soft breath of the south-east wind had then its inevitable effect on the steep snow slopes below the North Col, and a party of climbers and porters was swept away in an avalanche which killed seven of the latter, the climbers and remaining porters only escaping by a miracle. Now we believed that the monsoon was a fortnight before its normal time that year, but we had no accurate data on this point, and in any case it was not safe to rely on its post- ponement toa later date. This year, when we were persistently assailed during the latter half of May by weather conditions which resembled the first stages of the monsoon, we were always obsessed by the fear that we were already too late and that its full force would be on us before we had even established ourselves on the North Col; for it must be remembered that its arrival does not always take an unmistakable form. It may do so, but it may also arrive in a half-hearted fashion,
alternately advancing and clearing off again; and my diary 73
74 THE FIGHT FOR EVEREST
at this time refers more than once to a “ preliminary monsoon current.”’ Hence the idea in our minds was that we must at all costs establish the North Col Camp ; then a fine interval before the arrival of the monsoon proper might just give us the time to put in one serious attempt on the summit. This explains our exhausting attempts to compete with impossible weather—weather which, as we now know, had nothing to do with the monsoon, but was the outcome of conditions that from end to end of the Himalayas produced, in the latter half of May, low temperatures and a series of storms unprece- dented in the memory of the oldest planter in Darjeeling.
Foreseeing this uncertainty we had, before leaving Dar- jeeling, made arrangements for telegrams to be sent us both from relations of Mallory’s in Colombo and from the meteoro- logical department at Simla, to keep us informed as to the progress of the monsoon, which generally takes at least three weeks to reach Northern India after it has broken in Ceylon and on the Malabar coast ; these telegrams were duly sent, but, carried as they were by relays of mounted men or runners from Phari onwards, the first that gave us really useful information arrived just too late, for it met us on our final return to the Base Camp when all was over—a day or two before the monsoon broke in the Rongbuk Valley.
Camp III is pitched on the northern flank of the highest tributary glacier which flows down to join the East Rongbuk Glacier on its left or western side. This tributary glacier fills the great bay which lies between the north-eastern spur of Everest and the long parallel spur of the North Peak, and its source is actually the very top of the saddle connecting these spurs, which we call the Chang La or North Col, where, sheltered from the prevailing west wind, a great mass of snow accumulates immediately under and up to the crest, and thence pours down the steep slopes below in the form of @ hanging glacier to join the more placid surface of the sea of ice which fills the bay I have already described. It follows that the route up this steep glacier must vary in detail from year to year. In 1924, in one place, a great
THE NORTH COL 75
line of ice cliffs represented the upper lip of what in 1922 had been a narrow crevasse a few feet across, and which then ran transversely across the top of the steep traverse just below Camp IV; for the lower lip had fallen away some hundreds of feet in the intervening two years, as the mass of ice poured down the slopes below.
The last chapter describes how the first party, which started on May 8 to work out a route to the North Col, had to turn back somewhat short of the position of Camp IV, owing to insufficient acclimatization and bad snow conditions. Time now pressed, and as this next step in our ladder was one of vital importance it was decided that in the renewed attempt Odell should be accompanied by Mallory and Somer- vell, a pair who not only knew the old route better than any of the rest but who, working together, could be relied on to succeed if success were humanly possible. As, however, I judged that neither Mallory, who was suffering from the prevalent “ high-altitude ’’ throat, nor Somervell, who had a touch of the sun, might prove fit to go, I also decided to accompany the party, at least as far as the foot of the steep slopes below the Col, in case either of the others dropped out. Lhakpa Tsering, a wiry and active porter, was to come and carry a load of Alpine rope and pickets with which to affix it in the more difficult places. I asked him if he thought he was up to the climb, and he replied with a fine scorn: “* Why, didn’t I go twice to 25,000 two years ago?”
Our route from Camp III followed the left lateral moraine of the glacier for perhaps three-quarters of a mile, and up this we trudged on the morning of May 20. It is an Alpine tradition to start at a very steady pace in the early morning ; but at 21,000 feet and over it is not only tradition which enforces what might more truthfully be called a crawl: it is the lowered vitality of the early hours—or so I have always imagined ; for upward-bound parties leaving Camp III always made a very poor showing and often returned many hours later looking brisker than when they started.
This morning was no exception, and it soon became evident
76 THE FIGHT FOR EVEREST
that one of the party—Somervell—had more the matter with him than the early morning lassitude ; he was in fact suffering rather severely from the sunstroke he had contracted in the windless glare of the “trough” the day before. I believe he had had a high temperature all night, and as, leaving the moraine, we crossed the smooth and glassy bosom of the glacier and approached the foot of the steep slopes, it became evident that he was in no condition to goon. Obvious though this was, it needed a concerted attack by both Mallory and myself to convince him, and it was with the greatest reluctance that he at last conceded the logic of our arguments and, turning on us a back view eloquent of protest, headed down the glacier again.
A very short examination of the slopes above now decided our plan—for Mallory and I in the little 16 lb. tent we shared had discussed and agreed on the principle that dictated it. The obvious and easy route of 1922—the scoop in which the fatal avalanche took place—must be avoided ; but this year a large crescent-shaped crevasse, some quarter of a mile long, crossed the whole face of the steep slopes on its right in such a fashion that its left or southern end just reached the top of the scoop; a series of slightly convex snow slopes, mostly at a comparatively gentle angle, gave access to the right or northern end of the crevasse, and as these slopes ran right down to the level surface of the glacier with no serious bergschrund or ice cliffs at their base, we argued that they offered a fairly safe approach to the crevasse, by following the lower lip of which we could safeguard this portion of our route from the danger of avalanches and so regain the top of the scoop in safety. From this point to the shelf on which it was hoped to pitch Camp IV it appeared unlikely that we could under any circumstances select a route that would be safe under dangerous snow conditions, but this mattered less as an upward-bound party would have had ample warning of danger and could turn back before reaching that point— as was, in fact, done by Bruce and Odell three days later.
In their previous attempt Odell and Hazard had followed
‘109 HILYON
a PTE SPR ——~ : nO Ba ARTE so a = ” S om Re = as 4a Abd Uh
THE NORTH COL 77
the 1922 route, and they had made a cache of rope and pickets at the bottom of the slopes ; 50 it was now decided that, while Mallory and I headed half right to the proposed new route, there to get on with any step-cutting that we found necessary, Odell and Lhakpa Tsering should collect the dumped stores and, cutting across the foot of the slopes, join us higher up.
Of our ascent to the crevasse there is little to tell; we led in turns, sharing the laborious work of cutting or stamping steps. Mallory and I always climbed well together at these altitudes, for though on his day he was often too fast for me lower down, up here we always went very comfortably in double—or perhaps I should say tandem—harness. We met two minor crevasses and crossed them without difficulty. The last pitch up to the big crevasse, taken straight up the slope, was as steep as was pleasant, but we were satisfied that we could make this bit good with a fixed rope from above. Arrived at the crevasse, certain suspicions we had felt below were confirmed: the lower lip on which we now stood was broken about half-way across, and in order to regain it beyond the break it became necessary to descend into the bottom of the crevasse and climb out again by what looked a nearly vertical wall of broken ice leading up to a narrow crack or chimney ; this seemed to lead once more to the lower lip beyond the break and an easy route to the far end of the crevasse. The handle of the sickle, so to speak, took us to the break ; to reach the curved blade, of which we proposed to follow the inner, or cutting, edge, we must climb the wall and chimney.
All impatience to know if our labours so far were to prove vain, we pushed quickly on after a few words with Odell and Lhakpa, who were plugging along in our footsteps below, within easy shouting distance.
Confronted with a formidable climbing obstacle Mallory’s behaviour was always characteristic: you could positively see his nerves tighten up like fiddle strings. Metaphorically he girt up his loins, and his first instinct was to jump into the lead. Up the wall and chimney he led here, climbing care-
78 THE FIGHT FOR EVEREST
fully, neatly, and in that beautiful style that was all his own. I backed him up close below, able now and then to afford him a foothold with haft or head of my axe. The wall, like most walls, was not as steep as it looked and needed only careful step-cutting; but the chimney, on this our first experience of it, was the deuce, for it was very narrow (it widened later under the influence of a hot sun), its sides were smooth blue ice and it was floored—if the term “ floor” can be applied to a surface that mounts almost vertically—with soft snow which seemed merely to conceal a bottomless crack and offered little or no foothold. The climb was something of a gymnastic exercise, and one is little fitted for gymnastics above 22,000 feet. I suppose the whole 200-foot climb to a most welcome little platform at the top took us an hour of exertion as severe as anything I have experienced. From the platform we looked down on the very top of Odell’s and Lhakpa’s heads and, with a shouted word or two, pushed on to make good the remaining half of the crevasse. Odell was carrying a light load of pickets—wonderfully constructed hollow wooden pegs, some 18 inches long and only weighing a few ounces, which we used for attaching fixed ropes. Partly owing to this load and partly to the fact that he was one of those who acclimatized slowly and did not at this time show his subsequent wonderful form, he was feeling the effects of altitude pretty badly. However, by the time Mallory and I, after an abortive attempt, discovered the right way on, Odell and Lhakpa were close behind us.
Our route from the platform ran steeply upwards along a narrow ridge of ice with the crevasse on our right and airy space on our left. Here we cut good steps and soon reached more level going on a narrow knife edge of snow, the lower lip of the crevasse, which soon brought us to its far end. Beyond this we were on steep snow slopes and shortly had to traverse the concave scoop, which represented the upper part of the alternative route followed in 1922. All this part was subsequently made as good as ingenuity and an elaborate system of fixed ropes attached to the pickets already described
THE NORTH COL 79
could make it, and I remember one very comforting rope which was tied right round a great “‘serac’”’ or ice pillar. Just beyond this serac we were confronted by the steepest bit of the whole climb—some 200 feet of snow slope at the extreme angle on which snow would lie, falling away at the bottom in a great ice cliff; and this slope we had to traverse diagonally before arriving on the shelf just above it and the old site of Camp IV. We both had unpleasant recollections of this traverse, which had changed little since we last crossed it on our descent in deep fresh snow two years before, when at every step it looked as if the whole surface snow was bound to peel and carry us with it into the abyss below; and for Mallory it recalled an even more sinister incident, for in 1921, when he first discovered this route to the North Col, the whole surface did peel off between his party crossing it in the ascent and their descent an hour later.
Mallory’s nerves responded as usual to the call on them, and he again insisted on taking the lead. We agreed that the safest way to negotiate the place was to climb nearly vertically up the steepest pitch and only traverse to the left at its top where the slope began to ease off towards the edge of the shelf above. Odell, who was going better and better as the day wore on, was now with us, and he and I prepared to hold Mallory from below from a safe corner by the big serac if the treacherous surface should slip and carry him past us. But all went well, and perhaps half an hour later we each followed in turn up the steep ladder of steps which he had cut with such labour in the half-ice, half-snow surface.
It was a good moment when we arrived about 2.30 p.m. on the shelf, still bathed in sunlight and pleasantly sheltered from the west by a wall of ice above. Our first thought was to look for signs of our old camp left all standing in 1922, but of course there was no trace of it, for the whole jumble of snow hummocks and ice cliffs was, as I have explained, part of a true glacier and so all on the move. The shelf was narrower than in 1922, and now formed a hog-backed
80 THE FIGHT FOR EVEREST
ridge of untrodden, glistening snow barely affording level space for our proposed row of little 6-foot square tents.
We were well pleased at our success in establishing once more the most difficult portion of the whole route up the mountain. I would say we were elated, but that I think one is never elated at 23,000 feet; at these heights one’s emotions are all in half tones, and we were not a little weary, for we had not been content merely to climb: every footstep of the way had been kicked or cut with the axe to leave a clear and safe track for the laden porters to follow next day. Stretched on the snow in the sun we ate a hasty snack and feasted our eyes on the wonderful view over the Lhakpa La and Khartaphu to the maze of peaks which encircle Everest to the east, away 60 miles to the Gyankar Range and beyond where the eye of faith might pick out distant Kanchenjunga ; yet fine though it was we knew it to be tame compared to the view in the opposite direction, now hidden by the ice cliff at our backs—a view whose savage grandeur is unequalled by anything I have seen.
Nothing now would please the indomitable Mallory but that the route onwards from our shelf to the actual Col must be reconnoitred, and Odell at once volunteered to lead the way. For myself I discovered an urgent need to drive some pickets for a fixed rope which should hang down the steepest part of our ladder of steps below—a ten-minute job.
The task of the other two proved the affair of a long hour, and Mallory, who had borne the heaviest brunt of the previous work, looked nearly at the end of his tether by the time they rejoined me, for the site of Camp IV is separated from the Col by a maze of snow ridges and partially concealed crevasses—cruel hard work for a tired man. In 1922 all access by this most direct route was denied by an impassable crevasse, and a devious way surmounting the ice cliff over the camp had to be worked out. Here it was that Mallory, Somervell, Morshead and I, returning from our highest climb that year, spent the hours between 7 and 11 p.m. groping our way over some 300 yards by the light of a candle lantern.
THE NORTH COL 81
This year Odell happily succeeded in finding a bridge across the most serious crevasse and established a feasible route to the Col which served us throughout the campaign ; this put the finishing touch to a good day’s work.
We started down at 3.45, and the less said about the descent the better. We took the 1922 route and, going very fast, had a series of slips and tumbles into crevasses, for which there could be no explanation but sheer carelessness. I must exempt Odell from this stricture, but even he pleaded guilty to allowing Lhakpa Tsering to tie himself on to the rope with a reef knot, with the result that when once he slipped the rope came undone, and he was only saved from fatal consequences by a lucky patch of soft snow. It was indeed an instructive sight to see this superior young gentle- man, who had climbed all day in excellent style and rather scoffed at our solicitude for his inexperience on snow and ice, suddenly converted into the veriest worm, clinging like a wet towel to steep ice slopes where safety is only found in an upright position.
Herein lies a moral for those of us (and I was among them) who have advocated adding a good Sherpa porter to a party of two climbers for the “last lap’? on Mount Everest. These men are not really all-round mountaineers; they have little knowledge of snow and ice, and are as subject as other inexperienced amateurs to sudden loss of nerve if something goes wrong.
We were back in Camp III by 6.30 p.m.—a weary party ; and our satisfaction at a good day’s work was tempered by a very persistent doubt as to how it would be possible, even with the aid of fixed ropes, to get loaded porters up the ice chimney. My diary for this day finishes with the following remarks: ‘‘ Indifferent night—head too full of the very apparent difficulties and dangers of the whole business ; overcast and warm, light snow in early a.m. Don’t like the look of weather much. Pray Heaven it’s not the beginning of monsoon, as no power on earth can make parts of North
Col route safe under monsoon conditions.” Qa
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In describing the work which was now carried out by other members of the party I am handicapped by having only my own brief diary and imperfect memory to remind me of their fine performances, and I hope I shall not be accused of egotism if I appear to pass lightly over some of these, while I describe in more detail events in which I myself took an active part. It was a busy and a strenuous time, and as each tired party returned to Camp III, one listened almost perfunctorily to its story, satisfied that the work was going on, and then immediately turned one’s attention to the next step; and later, when it was all over, these doings were overshadowed by more dramatic events, so that much of the story remained untold.
During all this phase Camp ITI was a truly horrid spot. The stones of the moraine on which it was pitched, stones which in 1922 radiated pleasantly the heat of the sun, were always covered with fresh snow ; the little trickle of running water which their warmth should have produced was frozen stiff, and every drop of drinking or cooking water (I omit the usual reference to washing !) had to be melted over a Primus stove. Never a meal was eaten in the open, and I remember particularly the hatefulness of the evening meal, with the camp in cold shadow and one’s feet like stones. We made rather a point of collecting in a spare tent pitched for the purpose to eat our meals—a last flicker of the social amenities. We had a real live cook at Camp III this year. Three of our total staff of four cooks took it turn and turn about at each of Camps I, II and III; and if I shudder now at the recollec- tion of some of those hateful meals, I am fain to admit that seldom has food been cooked under more difficult conditions. Tea made with water which boils at a temperature in which you can bear the hand isn’t very palatable even if it does not contain an admixture of paraffin oil and last night’s ‘mutton and veg.” Kami, Tsering and Kancha—we owe those cooks a debt of gratitude: alas, poor Kancha died of ptomaine poisoning in his own home a few days after out return to Darjeeling. Before turning in, feet had to be
THE NORTH COL 83
warmed up somehow, and as the moraine was too rough and the glacier too glassy to admit of a tramp, we used to carry out that military manceuvre known as “ double mark time ’’ on a flat stone, sometimes for ten minutes, and even then, perhaps, without much effect ; but then it was a poor imitation of a “double.” We mostly slept two in a tent; Mallory and I shared a tent, with Somervell and Odell next door. ‘‘ How’s Sandringham ?’”’ we would ask, the right answer being, ‘‘ All snug, how’s Balmoral ? ”
On May 21 Somervell, who now professed himself recovered, Irvine and Hazard got off about 8.30 with a convoy of twelve porters laden with tents, stores and provisions to establish Camp IV; the morning was unduly warm with a lot of light cloud about. Light, dry snow kept falling at intervals, but, the sun coming through now and again, we anticipated no trouble. The plan was that Somervell and Irvine were to accompany the party as far as Camp IV to help the loaded porters up the chimney and fix ropes in various places noted by our party the day before. They were then to return, leaving Hazard for one night alone at Camp IV with the twelve men. The following day Odell and Bruce were to join him, and after sleeping the night at Camp IV, go on with the twelve porters to 25,500 feet and establish Camp V.
To quote again from my diary: ‘“‘ Up to 1 p.m. North Col slopes remained clear, but no sign of party along big crevasse ; soon after it began to snow in earnest and nothing more could be seen. As I write at 6.20 p.m. Somervell and Irvine have not returned, and it is still snowing—very soft, wet snow. Iam anxious. G. Bruce with 19 porters arrived from II about 2 p.m., having cleared II and practically all dumps (of stores). I spent the whole day on loads, stores and ‘ bundobust,’ and am now so sick of it that I can hardly bear to think any more about it.
‘6.35 p.m. Somervell and Irvine just in—Hazard and party reached Camp IV—so all is more or less well.”
This is a very bald outline of a gruelling day’s work. To begin with, fresh fallen snow had practically—and later
84 THE FIGHT FOR EVEREST
entirely—obliterated the tracks Mallory, Odell and I had been at such pains to make. The snow soon became deep enough to make the going exceedingly laborious, if not dan- gerous. Theclimbers drove a quantity of pickets and attached all the necessary fixed ropes before the porters followed them.
Then came the chimney; they decided that it would be best to haul all loads by hand up a vertical ice cliff in one pull from the bottom of the wall clear up to the little platform at the top, and then to let the porters climb the wall and chimney unladen. Somervell and Irvine took their stand on the platform, Hazard directing operations from the bottom, and the two former hauled the twelve 20 to 30 Ib. loads clean up the cliff, experiencing great difficulty with an obtrusive bulge half-way up. They afterwards described it as heartbreaking work, and I can well imagine it; the wonder is that they escaped frostbitten hands. Young Irvine was a perfect tower of strength, and his splendid physique never stood him in better stead. Somervell, yesterday an invalid with a temperature, did his full share of what must have been—I speak from memory—a two or three hours’ job. Having seen Hazard and his none-too-merry men on to the shelf where they were to pitch the camp, with snow falling heavily, Somervell and Irvine returned, as already described, to Camp III.
Next morning, May 22, found it snowing hard ; in fact, snow had been falling all night, and it continued without stopping until 3 p.m., so that there was never any question of Bruce and Odell starting for the Col. Our preparations in camp being finished, we all spent the day in our sleeping- bags with feet like stones, reading our home mail and papers which had arrived from Camp II with Bruce’s party the day before. It was a miserable day, for we were haunted by the idea that this might be a first taste of the monsoon, and it was followed by an even more miserable night. The thermometer fell to minus 24° Fahrenheit—the coldest ever recorded in these parts, and I would emphasize the fact— for the benefit of those who are accustomed to figures like
ww al a s cS we “Tt By ‘ Le pe ¥ 4 oe * om 7 y ; ‘ > 4 .
THE CHIMNEY, NORTH COL,
THE NORTH COL 85
60 ‘‘ below” in Canada or Arctic regions—that, with an insufficient supply of oxygen and the lowered vitality of these heights, minus 24° Fahrenheit is a more serious matter than the bare figures indicate. Many of the party got little or no sleep.
May 23 broke cloudless, windless and brilliantly fine, though the air was keen as a knife. After such a cold night we concluded that the fresh fallen snow on the slopes below the Col should be safe, and as every day was now precious, it was decided that Bruce and Odell should carry on with their programme. Bruce was very much “all there,” in spite of the trying experience of the last twenty-four hours, and got the party of seventeen porters off in fairly good heart at 9.30.
About | p.m. it once more began to snow steadily, shutting out all view of what was going on above, but not before we had seen considerable movement on the traverse just below Camp IV—rows of little black dots slowly moving downwards and to the right like flies on a whitewashed wall. We concluded that Hazard had decided to evacuate Camp IV and return with his party ; this was a relief, as if this were really the monsoon, the sooner they were back at Camp ITI the better. About 3 p.m. Bruce, Odell and their porters were sighted coming down the moraine: they had reached a point just short of the big crevasse, where they decided that the snow was in a dangerous condition and that it would be unsafe to goon. Their decision to turn back was confirmed by seeing Hazard’s party descending the chimney above them, but though they spent some time trying to communicate by shouting, they could not make themselves heard.
Looking back now I am puzzled at our constant failure to make ourselves heard on the mountain. I can think of three occasions when our voices failed to carry distances of 200 yards or under, and that in a land of absolute silence, in shelter from the wind. Our voices were often feeble, of ri but I am not satisfied that this was enough to account
or it.
86 THE FIGHT FOR EVEREST
We spent an anxious two hours waiting for the arrival of Hazard’s party ; some instinct must have warned us that all was not well. At 5 p.m. he arrived, accompanied by only eight of his twelve men. It appeared that he had gone first across the traverse to test the condition of the fresh surface snow, which rendered it a very dangerous passage ; eight men had followed him, one crossing at a time, but the last four had turned back, either because they were sick— the remaining porters said that two of them were suffering from frostbite—or, more probably, because one of them had started a patch of the surface snow slipping and they had been afraid to come on. Certain marks on the steepest part of the traverse next day gave colour to this explanation.
The situation had suddenly taken a very serious turn. The snow was falling persistently and—an ominous sign— had begun to take the form of soft feathery flakes, such as we had been accustomed to associate with nothing but monsoon conditions. The four men were alone at Camp IV, a prey to the superstitious terrors to which those of their race are always prone on the big snow mountains. Two of them were reported frostbitten, and we now learnt for the first time that, during their ascent two days before, a load of assorted food had been lost over an ice cliff. They were thus restricted to a diet of barley-meal, unless they had the initiative (and the tin-opener) to use the small amount of sahib’s food already in the camp. It was quite evident that they must be rescued, and that no later than next day ; for the frostbite question alone made it imperative to avoid even one more day’s delay.
It was equally obvious that it was at present out of the question to continue our attempts on the mountain; the whole party at Camp III was already in a bad way. Mallory and Somervell were both suffering from very bad high-altitude throats. Odell had had hardly any sleep for several nights ; Irvine had diarrhea, and Hazard had just had a very trying three days. The porters were for the most part quite unfit, morally and physically, for further efforts at present.
THE NORTH COL 87
Both above and below the North Col there was sufficient fresh snow to put any attempt to climb the mountain out of the question for the present, while we were all more or less convinced that this was really the beginning of the monsoon.
Sitting huddled in our dining-tent by the light of a candle lantern, we made our plans for next day. Mallory and I had had a longer period of rest at Camp IIT than any of the others, and as a party of at least three was required to bring down the four men, it was decided that Somervell should accompany us; we three had climbed together in 1922, and we knew we could go well as a party. Bruce, with Hazard and Irvine, was to evacuate Camp III, leaving only Odell and Noel (the latter having arrived from Camp II) with half a dozen porters to wait for our return in case there should be casualties to carry down the glacier.
It was a gloomy little conference; we could not but recognize that to turn our backs once more on the mountain at this date might well mean the abandonment of all hope of success for the year. We were about to send three of the four climbers detailed for the first attempt on what must be a severe test of endurance, and this would still further diminish our chances of success if a change in the weather permitted a resumption of the attack. But at the time these seemed but minor considerations; the only thing that mattered was to get the men down alive. Personally my one fixed determination had all along been that we must on no account have any casualties among our porters this year, and here we were, faced with the very real possibility of losing four men; for it must be admitted that our chances of rescuing the marooned porters did not appear rosy at this time. We were all distinctly the worse for wear; both Mallory and Somervell had very bad coughs and sore throats, which hampered them badly in climbing; the condition of the North Col slopes must make climbing exceedingly slow and laborious, and there was the danger of avalanche. As we lay in our tent that night and listened to the soft pattering of the snow on its walls, I now know that neither Mallory
88 THE FIGHT FOR EVEREST
nor I would have taken a bet of two to one against a successful issue to our undertaking next day, though at the time we kept such pessimistic views to ourselves. About midnight the snow stopped falling and the moon came out.
By 7.30 next morning we were off. Though the sun had been up two hours, the temperature was still only 2° Fahrenheit.
Of the climb which followed I remember only certain phases distinctly; the rest was just treadmill—with the snow anything from a foot to waist deep. As usual we were at our worst when we first started, and we looked so like a party of hospital convalescents that my hopes sank to zero. Mallory, who on these occasions lived on his nervous energy, kept urging us on: I remember his chiding us sharply for some momentary delay and later apologizing for his impatience. I wore crampons,* and owing to the constriction of their straps I suffered all day from cold feet. At the foot of the chimney I had to take off my boots while Somervell rubbed my feet, but I never properly restored the circulation that day.
The three of us did the wall and chimney in fifty minutes. Arrived at the top we could see one of the marooned porters, one Phu, standing on the edge of the shelf, and I repeatedly hailed him to find out what was the condition of the four. I had the greatest difficulty in getting an answer out of him, and it was only when we arrived at the foot of the final traverse that the following conversation took place: “ Hi, Phu! Are you all fit to walk?’ This had to be repeated several times. At last came the answering query, “ Up or down ?”’ (so little apparently did he realize the seriousness of their situation). ‘‘ Down, you fool.’’ Whereupon he dis- appeared, and almost at once reappeared with the remaining three. They said that one, Namgya, had all the fingers of both hands badly frostbitten, and that another, Uchung, had some toes slightly affected, but that all were fit to come
* A contrivance of eight sharp spikes fitted to the boot after the fashion of skates.
THE NORTH COL 89
down. This was a relief, for though I had brought one of our ‘‘ one-man carrier ”’ frames to be prepared for the worst, I very much doubt if we could have got a man down on it—certainly we could not have done so before dark.
Up to the final traverse the condition of the surface snow had proved less dangerous than we had anticipated, but it was obvious that the traverse was to be the crux of the climb. Here Somervell insisted on going across, while Mallory and I prepared to belay the 200 feet of rope that we had brought with us, driving both our ice axes into the snow up to their heads as a holdfast, round which we passed the rope, paying it out yard by yard as Somervell slowly and laboriously made his way diagonally upwards and across; he punched big safe steps and continually stopped to cough and choke in the most painful manner. After one or two of these fits of coughing he leant his head on his forearm in an attitude of exhaustion, and so steep was the slope that the mental picture I have of him as he did this shows him standing almost upright in his steps with his elbow resting on the snow level with his shoulder.
Some five or ten yards short of where the crest of the slope formed the edge of the shelf on which the four men were waiting, Somervell reached the end of the rope; the full 200 feet were out, and by eye we judged it a near thing whether, in the event of his slipping, the length of the rope was not too great to stop him before he disappeared over the lip of the ice cliffs below. Itwasnow4 p.m. Time was all too short if we were to get down in daylight, and a brief shouted consultation decided us that the men must chance the unbridged ten yards and join Somervell unroped as best they could. Each man as he reached Somervell was to be passed across the taut rope in turn to where Mallory and I, securely anchored by my old friend the big serac, represented safety.
The first two reached him safely. One of them was across with us and the second just starting when, with my heart in my mouth, I saw the remaining two, who had stupidly
90 THE FIGHT FOR EVEREST
started from the edge of the shelf together, suddenly flying down the slope. <A big patch of the fresh snow surface had given way and the men were going down on their backs, feet first, in an almost upright position. For one paralysing second I foresaw the apparently inevitable tragedy, with the two figures shooting into space over the edge of the blue ice cliff, 200 feet below; the next they pulled up after not more than 10 yards, and we breathed again. The accumu- lated snow under their feet had been bound by the cold of the early morning and the hot sun which followed to a holding consistency. Somervell, as cool as a cucumber, shouted to me, “* Tell them to sit still,” and still as mice they sat, shivering at the horrid prospect immediately beneath their eyes, while quite calmly Somervell passed the second man across to us, chaffing the wretched pair the while—so that one of them actually gave an involuntary bark of laughter.
Somervell then untied the rope from his waist, drove his ice axe in up to its head in the soft snow, passed the rope round it and strained it so as to make every foot he could, while Mallory and I held our end at extreme arm’s length. Holding his own end in the same way he then let himself down to the extreme length of the rope and of his own arm, while with the other hand he grasped, one after the other, the two porters by the scruff of the neck and pulled them back to the anchor of his axe. Somehow they got across to us, for their nerve had gone and they slid and slipped, ruining the steps all the way across, and only saved themselves from repeating their previous performance by the rope handrail. Finally Somervell followed, after again tying the rope round his waist ; and it was a fine object lesson in mountain craft to see him, balanced and erect, crossing the ruined track without a slip or mistake.
At 4.30 we started down; the slopes were already in chill shadow and it was evident that we were in for a race with darkness. Mallory led with one porter on a rope, then followed Somervell shepherding two; and I brought up the rear with Namgya and his frostbitten hands. Many
THE NORTH COL 91
times during the descent, but particularly in the chimney, I blessed my crampons, for Namgya’s hands were useless and more than once I had to hold his full weight; but he put up a gallant showing until, at dusk, we reached the glacier and safety, when he rather broke down. Poor lad! He must have suffered a lot in those two and a half hours.
About 7.30 p.m., as we were leaving the glacier for the moraine three-quarters of a mile from home, some figures loomed up out of the darkness ahead, and we found Noel and Odell waiting for us with hot soup in a liquid-air flask —almost as memorable a drink as the never-to-be-forgotten coffee and brandy which greeted us in nearly the same place after another trying descent two years before. I think a laconic entry in my diary is the most sincere tribute I can pay to Noel and Odell, for it was written at the time: ‘‘ Both awfully good to us here and, later, in camp.” Noel had a peculiar genius for coming out strong on times like this, and I look back with gratitude to more than one occasion on which the shelter of his specially designed tent or some of his own private delicacies comforted me marvellously after a hard day.
Mallory’s cough and the condition of my feet (which never really warmed up till next morning) precluded our enjoying, that night, the sleep we had earned, and we lay awake exchang- ing a murmured word from time to time. But our feelings were somewhat different from what they were when we had lain in the same tent the night before listening to the rustle of the falling snow and counting our chances for the morrow. Next morning we thankfully turned our backs on Camp III and, escorting a miserable little convoy of the halt, the lame and the blind, reached Camp II in due course in the teeth of a north-east wind and with snow falling again. The following day, May 26, Somervell and I reached Camp I.
The party was now disposed as follows: Odell, Noel and Shebbeare remained at Camp II with some twenty porters ; Mallory, Somervell, Bruce, Irvine and I with another twenty porters were at Camp I. Hazard had gone right through
92 THE FIGHT FOR EVEREST
to the Base, where he had joined Hingston and Beetham. About a dozen of the least useful porters were by now perman- ently kept at the Base and used only for the daily fuel and ration fatigues as far as Camps I or II.
The idea in thus stringing out the party in echelon was to enable us to resume operations with the minimum of delay should the weather let us. Those intended for the next trip to the North Col were to be at Camp II so that when once the word was given Camp IV could be reoccupied with only one day’s delay. On May 15 Beetham had retired to the Base suffering from a very severe attack of sciatica ; it was a cruel blow, no less to him than to the rest of the party, that just as he was really recovering from the weakening effects of his previous illness he should be thus smitten down again. If ever man conquered a physical disability by sheer will power Beetham had done so once, and though this same will power of his was going to have another very deter- mined and obstinate try for it, for the moment Hingston had him in his clutches and safely tucked into bed at the Base.
On this same afternoon we held a council of war at Camp I. Several facts made it obvious that if the Fates were to give us one more chance, we must be prepared to put into operation some simplified plan. Firstly, Shebbeare and Bruce were agreed that not more than fifteen—at first Shebbeare, by no means a pessimist, said twelve—out of our original fifty-five porters could now be counted on to reach Camp IV, though it was rightly estimated that those who could do this might well go much higher. I was horrified at this idea, and went through the list of porters on paper very care- fully, only to arrive independently at exactly the same result. The number physically disabled was very small; but a high proportion had shown by now that the unusual and unexpected conditions of the year had taken all heart out of them and they would not come up to the scratch again. This was cutting down our transport with a vengeance, for so far we had barely established Camp IV with four tents and sleeping-bags for twelve porters and one climber ; all
THE NORTH COL 93
the food and fuel had still to be carried up, as well as every oxygen apparatus and cylinder required on the mountain, and the whole of the tents and stores for the higher camps ; and it may be remembered that after Camp IV had been fully stocked the next step in our original plan was to send a party of fifteen porters, escorted by two climbers, to establish and stock Camp V.
Then there was the vital question of time. For the moment things looked a little better, and we again began to doubt if the weather we had experienced was really anything to do with the monsoon. At this time I developed a parrot cry which used to lead to concerted “ booing” whenever I started the well-known formula: ‘“‘I have a theory... .” My theory, which I certainly only half believed myself, was to the effect that for the monsoon to gather sufficient impetus to carry right up to and over the main Himalayan range, the great oven represented by that part of Northern India adjoining the range must be stoked up by a fortnight’s really hot weather ; and that, therefore, we could still count ona sufficient spell of climbing weather before the true mon- soon. Bruce’s rival theory that, whatever happened below, it was always brilliantly fine over 27,000 feet, was obviously only a childish attempt to produce some alternative optimistic theory. But theories fade away in the hard light of facts: here we were within six days of the date on which the monsoon broke in 1922 ; we must have two or three days’ rest, and we must waste one more day reaching Camp III. Our plan must obviously be such as would enable us to stage a serious attempt on the summit with the least possible delay when we again advanced to the assault.
There were a number of minor considerations, with which I will not weary the reader, except to mention our uncom- fortable doubt as to whether those who had already tried it had derived any real benefit from the oxygen apparatus.
The council of war was long and undecisive, and I summoned another for next day, sending messengers to Camp II and the Base to invite Odell, Shebbeare and Hazard to join in
94 THE FIGHT FOR EVEREST
these important deliberations. They were resumed next day with the addition of Odell and Shebbeare, and the whole matter was most carefully thrashed out, every possible combination of our seven available climbers being tried. In the end the simplest possible plan carried the day and was adopted nem. con., after I had made a careful analysis of the transport it entailed, as compared with that required by any other form of attempt. We decided to scrap oxygen alto- gether and toassault the mountain in a series of attempts, each of two climbers : the parties to leave Camp IV on consecutive fine days and to sleep twice above that point, once at Camp V, at about 25,500 feet, and once at Camp VI, at about 27,200 feet, or as near to those heights as we could induce porters to carry for us. I insisted on a supporting party of two climbers to be at Camp IV always, and this seemed to indicate that not more than two attempts could be made, for we could hardly believe that, after what we had already undergone, anyone would be found to do more than one really high climb. But here we judged by the standard of 1922, and Mallory and Odell were yet to show us what was to be the standard of 1924.
In allocating the climbers to these various réles I stipulated that Mallory had the right to join the first party if he wished. His throat was markedly better, and though he had so far borne the brunt of the hardest work, yet the energy and fire of the man were reflected in his every gesture, and none doubted his fitness to go as high as any. Of the remainder Bruce was now palpably the strongest ; he had been strong all along, always showing a flat back and a free easy carriage, when some of us had been fain to bend and crawl, and chance had arranged it that he had so far done less above Camp III than the rest. So Mallory and Bruce were to make the first pair—and I must say they looked a pair to inspire confidence in success if, at this stage, success were humanly possible. Somervell’s throat was benefiting a little by the warmth of Camp I, but was still far from right ; but Somervell’s prestige since 1922 was enormous, and his last performance
"NOOSN mas ; SNO[T ONINONG DONINDAY LSUM ONIMOOT "VOONI'] WOU d
erate ose Bee ens
THE NORTH COL 95
with the marooned porters had enhanced it. Anyhow, Mallory and I had little doubt that he must be one member of the next attempt. For choice of the second member, as I was in the running, I again stood down and asked Somervell and Mallory to choose between Odell, Irvine, Hazard and myself. They chose me, and in this connection it must not be forgotten that physical fitness and technical proficiency were not the only considerations : there was the vitally impor- tant question of providing each party with a climber who could talk sufficient Nepalese to carry the porters with them when their resolution began to flag, as we expected it to do at Camp V. Odell and Irvine were to play the all-important role of supporters at Camp IV, Hazard to remain in reserve at Camp III.
May 28 (as had been the 27th) was cloudlessly fine and hot, and the firebrands—Somervell and Noel—wanted to be up and away ; but much as I hated losing another day, I was so impressed with the improvement in the general health of the party after two days’ rest that I decided to postpone our departure for one more. The day was not wasted; the picked fifteen porters on whom now all our hopes centred, and whom we nicknamed the “‘ Tigers,” were collected at Camp II; Irvine joined Odell there, and the famous ‘“‘ old firm ’’ produced perhaps their most useful mechanical contri- vance in the shape of a magnificent rope ladder of Alpine rope and tent pegs destined to enable loaded porters to climb the steep ice wall below the ‘‘ chimney.”
The rest of us finished a communiqué to The Times, wrote home letters, continued the endless jig-saw puzzle of allotting porters’ loads for the work ahead, and generally basked and revelled in a sun which was at times almost too hot.
Camp I has always been a good place; never has its sunny welcome proved more beneficial than during this brief three days of recuperation.
The climbing parties reached Camp III on the 30th, accompanied by Noel and cinema outfit. Hazard, destined to support from Camp III, arrived a day later. And with
G6 THE FIGHT FOR EVEREST
the climbing parties were assembled that picked gang of fifteen porters, the “* Tigers,” who were considered still reliable for going high.
The weather continued perfect, and on June 1 Mallory and Bruce, accompanied by nine of the “ Tigers,” camped at the North Col, establishing en route a rope ladder. Odell and Irvine were to remain in support at Camp IV.
On June 2, stillapparently under perfect weather conditions, the two climbers and eight porters started up the great north ridge to establish Camp V. But the weather on Everest is not always what it seems. Once past the jumble of crevasses and seracs separating Camp IV from the true col, a bitter north-west wind, one of the most formidable foes we have to face on Everest, smote the little party on the flank. This wind must be felt to be appreciated. Every member of the party was equipped with every device of wind-proof clothing which experience could invent. Yet such was the keenness of the wind that it appeared to have the double quality of penetrating through their clothes and yet nearly blowing the laden porters out of their steps.
Progress up the north ridge of Everest does not lend itself to description. It is a fight against the wind and altitude, generally on rock, sometimes on snow, at an average angle of 45°. It will appeal to those who have ever tried mountain climbing over 23,000 feet. Camp V was to be situated on the east or sheltered side of the ridge at about 25,300 feet. At about 25,000 feet the endurance of the porters began to flag, and of eight only four made Camp V under their own steam. The remainder deposited their loads, unable to go on. While Mallory set to work to organize the camp, Bruce and one Lobsang, meriting the distinction of being one of the leaders of the “‘ Tigers,” made two trips back from the level of the camp and brought up the missing loads on their own backs. But white men cannot carry loads at these altitudes with impunity, and it is scarcely to be wondered at that Bruce’s heart was strained, happily only temporarily, in this fine performance.
THE NORTH COL 97
Camp V was now established—two fragile 10 lb. tents perched on an almost precipitous slope. The tents occupied by the non-oxygen party in 1922, collapsed and held in position by big stones, were clearly seen 200 feet below. According to plan, five porters now returned to Camp IV, three picked men being retained to stay the night and carry a still tinier camp some 2,000 feet higher on the morrow. Obviously everything depended upon the physical condition and moral of these three men. But the most persuasive powers of Bruce could elicit from them little enthusiasm for their next day’s task. Apparently the wind had taken the heart out of them. And after the truly miserable but inevitable routine in high altitudes of cooking the dinner the party went to bed with the sun still gilding the tops of the surrounding mountains, but with no rosy anticipations for the morrow.
It was intended to make an early start next morning. This had been done before, therefore it was not impossible, but where Sherpa porters are concerned it certainly approaches the limit of the possible. Making a long story short, a series of visits to the men’s tents while the climbers’ breakfasts were being prepared produced nothing but the unwelcome information that only one was fit to proceed. The other two professed to be sick and totally unable to carry a load. Bruce talks their language fluently and has great influence over them, and if anyone could have stimulated them to go it was he. But it was fairly evident that the three porters had shot their bolt and that nothing more was to be got out of them. So after a brief consultation it was decided to return to Camp IV.
Mallory and Bruce, on arrival at the North Col, were met by Odell and Irvine, who were fulfilling, for the first time in the history of Everest climbing, the official réle of supporters. Since 1922 we had recognized the necessity of this réle, pictur- ing the comfort to a returning party of weary climbers such support might afford. The most optimistic imagination fell short of the reality as produced by that ‘‘ well-known firm,”
Odell and Irvine. For over a week those two lived on the H
98 THE FIGHT FOR EVEREST
North Col (23,000 feet), and cooked every meal—and only those who have done it can appreciate the recurring hatefulness of this operation. They went out day and night to escort and succour returning parties and climbers over the intricate approaches to the camp, carrying lamps and drinks, and even oxygen to restore the exhausted. They ran the camp and tended the sick, and Odell for one went down to Camp III and returned to Camp IV, escorting parties or fetching provisions on three consecutive days. No members of the climbing party pulled more weight in the team than these two by their unostentatious, unselfish gruelling work.
CHAPTER V NORTON AND SOMERVELL’S ATTEMPT By LIEUT.-COLONEL E. F. NORTON, D.S.0.
Somervell and I started off from Camp III on June 1 to follow in Mallory and Bruce’s steps. But before starting it became my sad duty to return Beetham to the Base. The reader will wonder how he came to be at Camp III, for [ last mentioned him as safely tucked into bed at the Base suffering from sciatica, under Hingston’s charge. I regret to say it was simply a case of mutiny: Hingston was told that he could go to the devil, and that he, Beetham, was not going to miss all share in the great doings that were projected ; if he could do nothing else he could cook or carry a small load—anything to pull some weight in the team. So, limping and hobbling and taking wonderful photographs, he had reached Camp III on May 30. But he was too obviously a cripple to permit of any thought of using him on the mountain, and as we might now be very glad of our doctor in a day or two, when parties of porters and climbers who had been high came filtering back to Camp IIT, Beetham must return to take his place in charge of the Base Camp. It was never possible to leave the Base entirely without an Englishman, for we had a considerable sum of money in notes and copper coins in the treasure-chest, and it was always possible that some important communication might arrive from the outside world.
So for the second time I risked making Beetham my enemy for life—and I really thought I had done it this time—as I sent him, volubly protesting and limping like a cripple, down
the glacier. He has, I believe, long since forgiven me. And 99
100 THE FIGHT FOR EVEREST
DIAGRAM OF HEIGHTS ON MOUNT EVEREST
wo eee eee ---
A ! 4 ‘ ‘ ' 1 1 ' ‘ { \ | ' \
a
Camp VI, 26,700 feet.
The point reached by Somervell in 1924.
The point reached by Norton in 1924.
‘*The Second Step,” where Mallory and Irvine were last seen. ‘The First Step.”
The point reached by Finch and Geoffrey Bruce in 1922.
The point reached by Mallory, Norton, and Somervell in 1922. The summit, 29,002 feet.
Pema oonp
NORTON AND SOMERVELL’S ATTEMPT 101
in justification of my own brutal conduct I may add that Hingston’s medical skill was very badly required almost as soon as he arrived at Camp III.
Throughout the operations which followed, Shebbeare remained at Camp II, with periodic visits to Camp III. He was in charge of what might be described as the reserve porters’ rest-camp, and was responsible for the whole of the Lines of Communication from the Base to Camp III. Enjoying as he did the complete confidence of the porters, he was an ideal transport officer, for the men were perfectly happy under his charge, and he knew more about stores than anyone in the Expedition. We at Camp III never had to give a moment’s thought behind us, but were free to concen- trate out attention on the mountain, knowing that our supplies would arrive punctually as required, and that when porters were sent up to us they would arrive well fed and in good heart.
The porters told off to accompany Somervell and me, and to establish our camp at 25,500 feet, were six in number, and of these three were to come on to 27,000 feet. Bruce and I had tossed for first pick, and then chosen alternately from among the “ Tigers,’ so that each party should be equally strong. My first three picks were Narbu Yishé, Llakpa Chédé and Semchumbi. Narbu Yishé was a_ plausible rogue, a Mongolian replica of a well-known type in the British Army—the old soldier: his nickname the “ Purana Miles ”’ will convey as much to those whose scholarship is both classi- cal and oriental. Here was a man who, whatever his failings below, was, I knew, capable of great things high up.
Llakpa Chédé will be familiar in person to all who have seen the “ Epic of Everest” film at the Scala Theatre— probably giving the impression of a very small, shy and frightened-looking man. In his own milieu nothing could have been more different—quiet still, but with the quietness of complete self-confidence ; independent, sturdy, of irreproach- able character, and a brilliant man on the mountain. As to Semchumbi, Geoffrey Bruce will tell you that he was a
102 THE FIGHT FOR EVEREST
loafer, a cadger round the officers’ mess