THE UPPER KHARTA VALLEY AND THE 20,000 FOOT CAMP
During the early part of August Mallory and Bullock, after they had
found that there was no possible means of attacking Mount Everest from
the Kama Valley, crossed the Langma La and returned to the Kharta
Valley. Up this valley they now proceeded until they reached the
glaciers in which the Kharta River has its source. After exploring a
number of valleys, they at last found one which led straight to Mount
Everest. Accompanied by Major Morshead, who had joined them during their
excursion, they made a long and tiring reconnaissance of this valley,
and satisfied themselves that it afforded a practicable approach to the
North-eastern ridge of Mount Everest. The slopes were fairly gentle, but
were at that time covered with soft fresh snow, knee deep. Over these
snow-covered glaciers, up which they had proceeded with great
difficulty, they found a col from which it was possible to attack the
mountain. Under the existing conditions of soft snow and warm weather it
would have been quite impossible to take laden coolies along this route,
and they therefore returned to Kharta to wait until the monsoon
conditions had abated and the snow should have become hard and frozen.
On our return from the Kama Valley on August 29, we found Mallory and
Bullock still at Kharta, waiting for the weather to improve. About this
time it was showing distinct signs of improvement. The clouds were not
so thick and there were many more bright intervals with blue skies. They
therefore determined to start off on August 31, to form an advanced base
camp up the Kharta Valley.
On September 1, much to the surprise of every one, Raeburn arrived back
from Darjeeling. He reported very wet conditions throughout Tibet, the
rivers everywhere being unfordable, and most of the bridges washed away.
He also reported having seen five bags of our mails at Chushar. Our
posts had latterly been very erratic, and for five weeks no mails had
arrived. We did not know what had happened to them. We were sending in a
couple of our own coolies every fortnight to Phari with our outgoing
mail, and the first lot of these coolies had not yet returned, so that
we were all without news of the outside world. Although it was the
beginning of September, the night temperatures at Kharta were still much
too high, ranging from 52 deg. Fahr. to 47 deg. Fahr. On September 3 Morshead
and Wheeler left for the Upper Kharta Valley, intending to go slowly and
to map and fill in the detail of the valley as they went along.
The tameness of the birds gave us many opportunities of studying their
habits. A large family of redstarts lived in our garden at Kharta, and
used to amuse me very much. The young birds were now fully fledged and
spent most of the day in hopping in and out of my tent; they were not in
the least degree afraid, and the mother would come and feed them
actually inside my tent. On the terrace near the camp there were a
number of prettily marked white rock pigeons which formed a welcome
addition to our diet of Tibetan mutton, of which we were getting very
tired.
On September 5 Wollaston, Raeburn and I, with twenty-six Tibetan
coolies, and eleven of our own, started off to join the climbing party
up the Kharta Valley. The first 7 miles of this valley I knew well,
having traversed them many times before. The barley fields were now fast
ripening, and were a beautiful golden colour. Curious to relate, the
barley that grew at 14,000 feet was riper than that which grew at 12,000
feet. Two kinds of barley seemed to be grown here--the ordinary variety,
and another with a red ear such as is, I believe, grown in the
Shetlands. We rode past the tidy-looking monastery of Gandenchoefel,
surrounded by its juniper trees, and after a steep climb past the
entrance of the valley leading to the Langma La, descended on to some
fine river terraces, on which were many prosperous farms and well-tilled
fields. These extended for several more miles up the valley. We pitched
our camp on a grassy flat a couple of miles above the last house, where
willows, rhododendrons and junipers grew plentifully; the marshy ground
was carpeted with gentians, one of the commonest being dark blue in
colour with ten petals, and rather like a star in shape, the other being
larger and of a pale Eton-blue colour. I managed to collect a certain
number of seeds of both of these. We had a grand bonfire that evening,
made of juniper and willow, the last that we were to have for a long
time. The weather was disappointing and a drizzling rain fell all night
with a temperature of 42 deg. Fahr.
It was still raining when we started in the morning, so that there were
no views. A white andromeda was still in flower on the hillsides, but
the rhododendrons were all over. On the opposite side of the valley
juniper alone flourished and grew to an altitude of nearly 17,000 feet.
After going a couple of miles, we passed Morshead and Wheeler's tents
pitched on an old yak camp. When we arrived, they were still having
breakfast, as the weather was too bad to do any surveying. On leaving
them we had a steep climb over grassy slopes, where the drizzling rain
now changed to snow, and for the rest of the day it fell steadily. There
appeared to be many branch valleys, and as our views in the mist were
very curtailed, we were not at all certain as to whether we were going
up the right valley--I only knew approximately the height of the place
at which we were to camp. Therefore, on arriving at that height, I sent
my coolies off in two different directions up two different valleys to
see where Mallory and Bullock's camp might be. The mist lifted for a
moment, and one of them luckily saw Mallory, whose camp was only a few
hundred yards from us. We decided to call this our "Advanced base camp."
It was pitched in some small grassy hollows at a height of 17,350 feet.
The site was well sheltered from the winds, and was a regular Alpine
garden. Gentians of three different kinds were growing there, including
the lovely light-blue one. There was also a beautiful little white
saxifrage with yellow and brown spots inside the flower, a delightful
pink androsace, and dwarf delphiniums with their single deep-blue
flowers. Here grew also the musk-scented hairy light-blue delphinium
with its overpowering smell of musk. The latter flower, the Tibetans
told me, was a great preventative of lice, and I noticed that our cooks
and most of our servants had picked great bundles of it. They also told
me that if a man habitually wears this flower about him during his
lifetime, after his death when cut up and exposed to the birds, no bird
or wolf will touch his flesh owing to the strong scent apparently left
by the musk. A pretty pink aster grew here in great clusters, and a few
blue poppies were still out. Acchu, our cook, and Gyalzen Kazi, who were
coming along behind us, both missed their way and wandered several miles
further up the valley before they found out their mistake, and when they
eventually arrived in camp, were both suffering from severe headaches,
due to the great height. During our stay at this camp we had plenty of
time and many opportunities of observing bird and animal life. Some of
the birds were very brilliantly coloured. There was a snow bunting with
bright scarlet breast and head, also a beautiful redstart with red body
and black and white wings. Overhead the great Laemmergeier, or bearded
vulture, sailed in graceful circles, while the big black raven croaked
on the rocks by the camp. Morning and evening we could hear the
ramchakor (_Tetraogallus tibetanus_) calling on the opposite side of the
valley, and with glasses we could see them chasing one another and
running round in circles. Red foxes I met with on several occasions over
18,000 feet.
Mallory and Bullock, who had already been here for a few days, had spent
their time in carrying wood and stores up to a higher camp further up
the valley; they had been having a certain amount of trouble with their
coolies, due to the Sirdar, who was always trying to create
difficulties. I therefore sent him away on a job to Chushar to collect
some of our stores which were supposed to have been detained there, and
which would keep him busy for a number of days and prevent him from
interfering with our coolies at a critical period. We had brought up
with us six live sheep, and very lively these proved. Dukpa, Mallory's
cook, let three of them escape, but luckily some coolies coming up the
valley saw two of them, and after a great chase brought them back. The
third they could not catch and eventually drove him under a cliff, where
they killed him with stones and brought his carcass back to us. The
weather continued very unsettled. During the night a couple of inches of
snow fell, but until the temperature became colder and the sky cleared,
it was no use trying to go up to the upper camp. I shot a ramchakor on
the opposite side of the valley. They are the most tasty of the Tibetan
birds, and are quite excellent eating.
On September 8, after a frosty night, Bullock, Mallory and I with three
coolies, for the purpose of keeping fit, made a little excursion along a
rocky ridge that lay to the South of us. On the top of the ridge there
were a number of sharp rock pinnacles that had to be climbed. I found
these gymnastics at a height of over 19,000 feet to be very exhausting,
but Mallory did not seem to mind them in the least. There should have
been a lovely view from here, but all we got was an occasional glimpse
of glaciers and rocky peaks through the mist. The sun was trying to
shine through the clouds and at first it was beautifully warm; but after
a couple of hours snow began to fall, so we hurriedly descended on to
the glacier below. Snow fell all the way back to camp, and by nightfall
there were 3 inches of fresh snow round our tents. During the night the
thermometer dropped to 21 deg. Fahr., and the morning broke clear and
frosty. I started off early to climb the hill behind the camp, from
which there was a very extensive view, both Everest and Makalu being for
the moment quite clear and free from cloud. To the North extended a
great range of snow peaks between 23,000 feet and 24,000 feet in height,
rather uninteresting in appearance, and to the East stretched a great
sea of accumulating cloud, out of which appeared the tops of
Kanchenjunga and Jannu. The peak on which we stood was just under 20,000
feet; I spent several hours basking in the hot sunshine, which was
rapidly melting the fresh snow. I was surprised to find growing at this
height a tiny yellow saxifrage.
That evening eight coolies arrived with our long-expected mail, and the
rest of the day was spent in reading letters and sorting out papers, for
over two hundred letters and papers had arrived for me alone. There was
again a sharp frost of 10 deg. that night and the early morning was
beautiful, but clouds came quickly drifting up the valley and obscured
the fine views we had from the camp of Mount Everest and the rocky peaks
to the North of the camp. On September 11, in spite of a warm night,
Mallory and Bullock, being very optimistic, left for the upper camp,
while Morshead and Wheeler rejoined us from their camp below, not having
been able to do any work down there owing to bad weather. Snow fell
steadily all the evening to a depth of about 3 inches. Next day was
cloudy, but warm, and the snow disappeared again with extraordinary
rapidity. I went out with a shotgun to try and shoot some ramchakor, and
while after them saw a very fine grey wolf who was also stalking the
ramchakor. He came up to within 50 yards of me, so that I was able to
have a good look at him. He had a beautiful coat, and it was very
unfortunate that I did not have a rifle with me. I wandered some way up
a side valley to the foot of a glacier, but saw no signs of birds, as
the wolf had evidently been there before me. In the afternoon Mallory
and Bullock returned from the upper camp, having been driven down by the
bad weather: another 5 inches of snow fell that evening, so that we were
kept busy beating our tents to keep the ridge poles from breaking. On
September 13, 14 and 15, snow fell on and off the whole time; but in
spite of the bad weather I managed to shoot a burhel for food. Their
meat is very much better than that of the tame sheep. On September 16 we
had at last a fine day with a sharp frost at night. Wheeler at once
seized this opportunity and took up a station on a hill-top on the
opposite side of the valley, from which he was able to get some useful
views. The next day, after 13 deg. of frost in the night, Mallory, Morshead
and I started off to climb Kama Changri, a peak to the South of the
camp, that overhung the Kama Valley. We left the camp at 2 a.m., by the
light of a full moon, which made the going as light as though it were
day. We soon reached our view-point of a few days before, where, except
for the distant roar of the stream far away below in the valley, there
was no other sound, only an intense stillness. Never anywhere have I
seen the moon or the stars shine so brightly. To the South, far away
from us, there were constant flashes of lightning--the valleys in Tibet,
the great gorges of the Arun, the wooded valleys of Nepal all lay buried
under a white sea of clouds, out of which emerged the higher mountains
like islands out of a fairy sea. In this bright moonlight, mountains
like Kanchenjunga--100 miles away--stood out sharp and distinct. Here on
this sharp ridge, at a height of 21,000 feet, with no obstruction to
hide the view, sunrise came to us in all its beauty and grandeur. To the
West, and close at hand, towered up Mount Everest, still over 8,000 feet
above us; at first showing up cold, grey and dead against a sky of deep
purple. All of a sudden a ray of sunshine touched the summit, and soon
flooded the higher snows and ridges with golden light, while behind, the
deep purple of the sky changed to orange. Makalu was the next to catch
the first rays of the sun and glowed as though alive; then the white sea
of clouds was struck by the gleaming rays of the sun, and all aglow with
colour rose slowly and seemed to break against the island peaks in great
billows of fleecy white.
Such a sunrise has seldom been the privilege of man to see, and once
seen can never be forgotten. After sunrise the climbing became more
unpleasant. We tried to follow the direct way up the mountain, but the
snow was in bad condition and the slope very steep. We therefore crossed
the glacier, putting on our snow-shoes, and followed easier snow slopes
but bad owing to the soft snow. The going was very tiring; Mallory and
Morshead appeared to feel the height very much. After six hours we
reached the top, 21,300 feet, from which we had a most superb view. We
looked straight down on to the Kama Valley. Makalu was immediately
opposite us with its colossal precipices. Glaciers, cliffs of ice, rock
peaks, fluted snow ridges and immense mountains towered all around us
above a vast sea of clouds which stretched for hundreds of miles away to
the plains of India. Here I was able to take many photographs, but no
photograph can adequately portray the grandeur or the impressiveness of
such a scene. We stopped on the top of Kama Changri for over three
hours. It was extraordinarily warm; there was not a breath of air, and
the sun seemed to shine with an intense heat. Clouds then began to roll
up, and we returned to camp by an easier way down the glacier.
Next day, in spite of 13 deg. of frost at night, snow and sleet fell all day
again, and made us very depressed. In order to prevent our going to
sleep too soon after dinner, four of us used to play bridge every night,
and I do not suppose that bridge has often been played at so great a
height.
On September 19, after a cold night with 16 deg. of frost, Mallory, Bullock,
Morshead and Wheeler started off for the 20,000-foot camp. The weather
was now steadily growing colder every night. On September 20 we had 18 deg.
of frost, as well as a further fall of snow. During the night a very
fine lunar halo was seen, but the morning broke clear. Wollaston,
Raeburn and I started to join the remainder of the party at the
20,000-foot camp, leaving Gyalzen Kazi, our second interpreter, behind
in charge of the advance base camp. It was very necessary to have some
one here to whom we could send back for any extra stores or supplies
that might be wanted, and who would be able to forward to us anything
that might be sent up from Kharta. A four hours' walk brought us to the
camp. I had a thorough feeling of lassitude all the way. It required,
indeed, some effort to walk at all, and a strong effort, both of mind
and body, to reach camp. On the way beautiful views of Mount Everest
gave us encouragement. The foot of the Kharta Glacier descends to 19,000
feet. From that point on to the camp we travelled beside it. At first
the glacier is cut up into wonderfully shaped "seracs," but as we got
higher the surface became smoother. It was an exceptionally white
glacier; there were no moraines on its surface, and it was covered
everywhere with a fresh coating of thick snow. We found the camp on a
terrace between two glaciers. That above the camp resembled the pictures
of a Greenland ice cap. A thick coating of ice, to a depth of 50 to 60
feet, covered the gentle slopes above us, and came down to within a
couple of hundred yards of the camp. The drainage from the melting ice
percolated through the stony ground, so that on digging to a depth of 6
inches we came upon water. A couple of hundred feet below the camp was
the big white glacier which descended from the Lhakpa La. The day was
gloriously fine, and we obtained magnificent views of Mount Everest and
the snowy chain to the South of us across the Kharta Glacier. Over the
top of this snowy chain appeared the great rocky crests of Makalu. At an
altitude of over 19,800 feet I saw a hare and heard several ramchakor
calling. There grew close to the camp a few gentians with their curious
square leaves, also a dwarf blue delphinium and a little white
saxifrage. It was an extraordinary height at which to find flowers and
their season of summer cannot last long. On arrival at the camp, we
found only Wheeler and Bullock there, as Mallory and Morshead with
fourteen coolies had gone on ahead to carry loads up to the Lhakpa La,
which was to be our next camp. They returned in a very exhausted
condition in the course of the afternoon. The snow, they reported, was
in better condition than last time on the lower slopes; but as they got
higher, they found it still very soft and powdery. These extra loads
that they had taken up to this camp would enable the whole party to go
up to it and to sleep there, if necessary, for several days. As the sun
was setting behind Mount Everest, we were treated to a glorious view.
The ring of clouds that surrounded it were all touched by the bright
evening sunlight, while the mountain itself was in deep shadow except
for great streamers of powdery fresh snow which were being blown off the
whole length of its crests. We stood and watched this extraordinary
sight for some time, devoutly hoping that the wind would soon die down.
Unfortunately we were soon to experience what a strong wind meant at
these heights.
[Illustration: SEA OF CLOUD FROM PEAK NORTH OF KAMA VALLEY. Kanchenjunga
in distance.]
On the following night we had 20 deg. of frost, and the weather appeared to
be getting rather more settled. We were now sufficiently high up to be
above the ordinary clouds, and we could look down upon the great sea of
them which overhung the Arun Valley and the greater part of Nepal. As
the sun warmed the clouds, they used to rise higher, but they seldom
arrived as far as our camp owing to a strong North-westerly wind always
blowing in the upper regions of the air which drove them back again.
Watching the movements of the clouds day by day gave me the impression
that the Mount Everest group forms a dividing line between the two
monsoon systems. The monsoon that causes so much rain in Sikkim comes
from the Bay of Bengal, and these moist currents sweep up to Mount
Everest, but it is only when the current is very strong that they pass
beyond it. At this time of year this monsoon was still active, whereas
the Arabian Sea monsoon--that is to say, the moist winds from the
Arabian Sea--which had given us previously much rain and snow on the
Western sides and slopes of Mount Everest, was now over, with the result
that on the West side of Everest we had blue skies every day and no rain
clouds, whereas on the East side the clouds and the moisture brought up
by the Bengal monsoon still prevailed. During the course of the morning
I climbed an easy hill to the East side of the camp and some 500 feet
above it. We walked along at first just below the ice cap, which was
very pretty with its long icicles gleaming in the sunlight. We then
crossed on to the ice cap and found the snow in excellent condition,
firm and crisp to the tread, so that it was a pleasure to walk along it.
From the top of this hill, 20,500 feet, was a very fine view to the
East, over the great sea of cloud which filled up all the valleys as far
as the Massif of Kanchenjunga which towered up in the distance, and the
more slender peak of Jannu. Amongst the Sikkim peaks I could also
recognise Chomiomo and the Jonsong peak. To the South Makalu towered up
above all the other mountains: while between it and Mount Everest,
beyond the Southern watershed of the Kama Valley, showed up some of the
great Nepalese peaks, among which we noted Chamlang, 24,000 feet. To the
West of us Mount Everest showed up sharp and clear and very white after
all the fresh snow that had fallen in the last month. From this side
Mount Everest certainly looks its best, standing up as a solitary peak
instead of being rather dwarfed by the high ridges that radiate from it.
The weather remained fine all day, and it was a real pleasure to sit
outside one's tent and bask in the sun. Though we were 20,000 feet, we
had breakfast, lunch and tea out of doors in front of our tents, and we
could not have been warmer or enjoyed pleasanter conditions if we had
been down at 5,000 feet.
On September 22, leaving Raeburn behind, Mallory, Bullock, Morshead,
Wheeler, Wollaston and myself started off to Lakhpa La camp. We left the
20,000-foot camp in 22 deg. of frost at four o'clock in the morning,
accompanied by twenty-six coolies, who were divided up into four
parties, each of which was properly roped. It was a beautiful moonlight
night, and the mountains showed up nearly as brightly as in the daytime.
We rapidly descended the 200 feet from our terrace to the glacier, when
we all "roped up." The snow on the glacier was in excellent condition,
and as it was frozen hard we made good progress. Dawn overtook us on
the broad flat part of the glacier, the first beams of the sun falling
on the summit of Mount Everest, which lay straight in front of us, and
changing the colour of the snow gradually from pink to orange, all the
time with a background of deep purple sky, every detail showing up sharp
and clear in the frosty air. We mounted gradually past Kartse, the white
conical-shaped peak climbed by Mallory and Bullock a month ago from the
Kama Valley. We wended our way without much difficulty through the
ice-fall of the glacier, below some superbly fluted snow ridges that
rose straight above us. Then followed a long and at times a somewhat
steep climb over soft powdery snow to the top of the pass. Even at these
heights we came across tracks in the snow. We were able to pick out
tracks of hares and foxes, but one that at first looked like a human
foot puzzled us considerably. Our coolies at once jumped to the
conclusion that this must be "The Wild Man of the Snows," to which they
gave the name of Metohkangmi, "the abominable snow man" who interested
the newspapers so much. On my return to civilised countries I read with
interest delightful accounts of the ways and customs of this wild man
whom we were supposed to have met. These tracks, which caused so much
comment, were probably caused by a large "loping" grey wolf, which in
the soft snow formed double tracks rather like those of a barefooted
man. Tibet, however, is not the only country where there exists a "bogey
man." In Tibet he takes the form of a hairy man who lives in the snows,
and little Tibetan children who are naughty and disobedient are
frightened by wonderful fairy tales that are told about him. To escape
from him they must run down the hill, as then his long hair falls over
his eyes and he is unable to see them. Many other such tales have they
with which to strike terror into the hearts of bad boys and girls.
I reached the top of the pass (22,350 feet) by 10.30 a.m., and was
rewarded by a wonderful view of Mount Everest, now only a couple of
miles away. From the pass there was a steep descent of about 1,200 feet
to a glacier which after many wanderings finds its way into the Rongbuk
Glacier. This valley had never been thoroughly investigated by Mallory
and Bullock in their visit to the Rongbuk Valley. It does not, however,
actually form the main Rongbuk Glacier, but stops several miles short of
it, the entrance to the valley containing this huge glacier being both
small and very insignificant. The bad weather that they had experienced
in the Rongbuk Valley during the latter half of their stay there had
made it impossible for Mallory and Bullock to explore this valley, or
see what lay at its head.
We were now opposite the Chang La (North Col) which joins Mount Everest
to Changtse (the North peak), and from this col was, so far as we were
able to judge, the only route to the summit. The way from the glacier up
to the Chang La looked steep and unpromising, and we doubted whether it
would be possible to take laden coolies up, even to this point. I took
as many photographs as I could, and as quickly as possible, for there
was an icy wind blowing which almost froze my hands. This wind blew the
fine powdery snow off all the crests of the ridges and it penetrated
everywhere. We found a little hollow in the snow a few feet below the
crest, and here we set to work to pitch our camp. There was not much
shelter, but it was the only possible place. We had only brought small
Alpine Meade and Mummery tents with us. Two of us occupied each tent.
They were very small and uncomfortable, and in order to enter them we
had to crawl through a narrow funnel almost as though we were entering a
dog kennel. The effort of crawling in was very exhausting and caused us
to remain out of breath for a considerable time afterwards. Even these
small tents were with difficulty pitched owing to the strong winds:
cooking was quite out of the question until dark when the wind
temporarily lulled. We had brought up with us some Primus stoves and
spirit lamps. No one, except perhaps Wheeler, was very expert with the
Primus stove, and though no doubt under favourable conditions they
would be easy to work, even at these heights, we were never very
successful with them and were forced to rely upon the spirit stoves.
After sunset we had a scratch meal of consomme, which we managed to warm
up, followed by some cold ham and biscuits, after which we retired to
bed. The moment the sun went down there were 25 deg. of frost. Up till now I
had felt no ill-effects from the rarefied air; I had not even had a
headache and my appetite was good, though I owned to feeling rather lazy
and it always needed an effort to concentrate one's thoughts. The
coolies who had accompanied us up to this camp all seemed to be well and
were very cheerful. The eiderdown sleeping-bags were a great comfort;
they were our only means of keeping thoroughly warm with 34 deg. of frost
outside. But I cannot say that I felt comfortable or, in fact, that I
slept at all, as the snow which at most times had been much too soft,
seemed here to freeze into uncomfortable lumps and bumps underneath
one's back, so that I could never get comfortable all night. The wind
howled round our flimsy tents, and I do not think anyone, except perhaps
Mallory, got any sleep that night. In the morning we were all suffering
from bad headaches, due to the airlessness of these little tents, and I
am sure that anyone camping at high altitudes ought to have a much
larger type of tent in which to sleep if he is to avoid headaches. We
blessed the early morning sun when it appeared and began to unfreeze us.
I noticed then that our faces and hands were all a curious blue colour
in the morning, due to what is called, I believe, cyanosis of the blood.
With much difficulty Wheeler made us a little tea, which if not drunk at
once, froze; Mallory thawed out some sardines which had all been frozen
solid. There was luckily less wind than during the night, and as the sun
rose higher, we all became more alive. The coolies, too, were at first
all torpid and complained of bad headaches, but on getting into the
fresh air, out of their small and stuffy tents, the headaches rapidly
passed away. After consultation, we decided that there was no object--in
fact, that it would be dangerous--for the whole party to go on, so we
decided that it would be best for the expert Alpine climbers only,
together with a few picked coolies, to attempt the Chang La. If weather
conditions were favourable, they might, we thought, see how high they
could get on Mount Everest itself. We therefore quickly sorted out and
divided up the stores, and after seeing Mallory, Bullock and Wheeler
off, unpitched our own tents, being satisfied that we could be of no use
by remaining where we were, and that it would be best that we should
return to our 20,000-foot camp and carry down with us as many stores as
we could. We accomplished this without any difficulty, and arrived back
during the course of the afternoon. The contrast here was extraordinary.
We seemed to be in a totally different climate, and our larger tents and
camp beds appeared to us to be the height of luxury. We spent a very
comfortable night in spite of 22 deg. of frost, and all slept soundly after
our exertions, though once or twice during the night I was awakened by
rats gnawing at the food which had been left out on the boxes in my
tent. One of the coolies also started to say his prayers in a loud tone
of voice at 1 a.m., but after a few winged words he relapsed into
silence.
The next day was delightfully warm and sunny, though there had been
during the night a good deal of lightning towards the South. The snow
could be seen whirling off the crest of Mount Everest during the
morning, and in the course of the afternoon the wind grew much stronger,
and blew huge clouds of snow off the slopes of the mountain, and from
all the surrounding ridges. We could see great wisps of snow being blown
off the pass that we had just left, so that the climbing party must have
been having a very cold time in their new camp. In the evening there was
a curious false sunset in the East with fine purple and orange rays,
while as usual the Kama and the Kharta Valleys were filled with a sea of
cloud. Here, however, we seemed to be above and beyond the reach of the
clouds. Next night there was again constant lightning to the South and
23 deg. of frost, but the weather kept fine and sunny. On climbing a
snow-covered hill to the West of the camp, about 21,000 feet, I had some
superb views of Everest and Makalu with their appalling cliffs and
beautifully-fluted snow slopes. A strong North-westerly gale still
continued in the upper regions of the air above 22,000 feet, and every
ridge of Everest was smothered with clouds of blown snow. I had a
pleasant glissade down steep snow slopes back to the camp, where the
climate was delicious and where I could bask in the sun at the entrance
of my tent with a sun temperature of 173 deg. Fahr. Earlier in the season we
had often recorded temperatures of 195 deg. and 197 deg. Fahr. in the sun with
the black bulb thermometer. During the afternoon we were able with our
glasses to see black specks appearing on the top of the Lhakpa La. These
were the Alpine climbers and their coolies returning after their
strenuous efforts on Mount Everest. We watched them with the greatest
interest descending the glacier and wondered how far they had been
successful. They all arrived back safely in the course of the evening,
having been extraordinarily lucky in not having had any casualties or
frost-bites in spite of the Arctic gales. Mallory will, however, tell of
their adventures in another chapter.