THE RETURN TO KHARTA BY THE KAMA VALLEY
Winter was now rapidly approaching. Every night was growing steadily
colder, and we were all anxious to get down to lower altitudes. Every
one had been feeling the strain of life at these high altitudes. It had
been, however, a great relief to us that all the party had got back to
the 20,000-foot camp in safety, and that we had had no cases of sickness
or frost-bite. The coolies had throughout worked most willingly and to
the best of their ability. They had been well supplied with boots and
socks, warm clothing of all kinds, cap comforters and fur gloves, as
well as blankets, and for those who had slept at the higher camps,
eiderdown sleeping-bags had been provided capable of holding four or
five. Here at the 20,000-foot camp we did not have to depend on Primus
stoves or spirit lamps, as while we were waiting at the advanced base
camp we had daily sent up coolies with loads of wood for our future use,
and even during our stay here the coolies who had been left behind under
Gyalzen Kazi had been sending up further loads. We now divided our party
into two: Mallory, Bullock, Raeburn and Morshead were to be responsible
for taking all the stores back to Kharta, and for this purpose we had
arranged with Chheten Wangdi and the Kharta Jongpen for a number of
Tibetan coolies to help in the work of removal. The remainder of us,
that is to say, Wollaston, Wheeler and myself, were to cross over a snow
pass and return to Kharta via the Kama Valley. Wheeler was anxious to do
this in order to complete his survey work, for up till now he had been
unable to visit the Kama Valley. Wollaston had already seen the lower
parts of the Kama Valley, but was very anxious to see the upper end,
particularly after my descriptions of the scenery and the Alpine flowers
that were to be met with there.
On September 26 the two parties started off in different directions.
Taking with us fifteen coolies, all pretty heavily laden, we descended
to the great Kharta Glacier, which it was necessary for us to cross. We
were not at all certain as to the conditions we were likely to meet with
on the other side of the pass. The climb from the Kharta Glacier to the
Karpo La, 20,300 feet, was quite gentle, though the snow was very soft
and powdery. On the North side of the pass we found the slopes to be a
snow-covered glacier, but on the South side there was a very steep rocky
descent which had to be faced. From the top of the pass we had a
remarkably fine view into the Kama Valley which lay below us. Makalu,
Pethangtse and Everest stood up clear above the clouds which floated
along the bottom of the Kama Valley. Across the gaps between these peaks
we could see other snow ranges in Nepal. Here at the top of the pass we
were luckily just sheltered from the Northwest and the gale, but on
either side of us snow was being blown off the mountains in long white
streamers. Our descent was down a very steep rocky rib. We began by
roping ourselves together, but the coolies were all of them heavily
laden and were, moreover, very clumsy on the rope, sending down so many
loose stones that I found my position as foremost man quite untenable
owing to the amount of debris and rocks which were dislodged above me.
We therefore unroped, and Wollaston lowered the coolies one by one over
the steepest part--a somewhat long proceeding--after which they were
able independently to make their way down to the glacier below without
mishap. We now put on the rope again, and so crossed the easy glacier
which led down to the moraine on which I had been two months before.
Wheeler branched off here and took up a position on one of the ridges.
Here he found the gale very troublesome, his theodolite being nearly
blown over several times. He managed, however, to take a number of
readings and to get a good many photographs--sufficient to map the whole
of the upper part of the Kama Valley. All that day the gale continued
above 20,000 feet. Below this the valley was filled with clouds, over
which at first we had magnificent views. As soon as we descended into
the valley, we gradually became enveloped in the autumn mists, which
lasted all the remainder of the way to Pethang Ringmo. This was the
place where I had met the yak herds two months before when they were
pasturing their yaks on the grassy uplands. They had left the place, and
we were therefore no longer able to draw on them for butter and milk. I
had, however, arranged for Wheeler's fat cook to be sent up from Kharta
to this place to meet us and to bring with him some fresh meat and
vegetables. These we found on arrival, the fat cook having only arrived
an hour before. We all of us slept that night much better than we had
been doing at the higher camps, and though even down here we had 14 deg. of
frost, I was delighted to find that my boots were not frozen as hard as
nails, as they had been all the last week.
From this camp I determined to attempt an expedition which I had long
desired to make. My ambition was to reach the ridge between Makalu and
Everest, and from it to have a look right down into Nepal. Mallory and
Bullock did not much encourage me in my project, and doubted whether it
could be accomplished within the short time which was now available. I
decided, nevertheless, to make the attempt. On the night of the 26th all
our servants overslept themselves, and I had some difficulty in waking
them next morning. We succeeded, however, after a hurried breakfast in
making a start at 5.45 a.m., just as the first sunlight was touching the
highest peak of Mount Everest. It was a most perfect autumn morning,
without a cloud in the sky and with the ground underfoot white with
hoar-frost. After going a mile up the valley, we had to cross the
Kangshung Glacier--here about a mile wide and consisting of a great mass
of ice hummocks, often 100 feet or more in height, mostly covered with
boulders, with the ice showing every now and then below us in curious
caverns and lakes. It took us an hour to cross this glacier, as the
walking was very tiring up and down hill over loose stones all the time;
luckily, however, many of the stones were frozen to the ice, which made
the crossing easier than it might have been later in the day. We then
climbed on to a spur, over 19,000 feet, which jutted out into the
valley. From this we had marvellous views right away to Kanchenjunga in
the East. On the opposite side Mount Everest stood out with every detail
showing clearly in the autumn sunshine. Above us towered the
perpendicular cliffs of Chomoloenzo, opening out into a most astonishing
series of peaks, the existence of which we had never suspected when
looking at the mountain from the valley below. For once in a way the air
was drier and the valleys below were not filled with cloud, so there was
a prospect of our having clear views all day. Wheeler had come a short
way along the ridge until he got a good view-point, when he stopped to
set up his theodolite and camera for a station, after which he came
along no further. I followed the crest of the ridge as far as I could,
finding it at times very difficult and rocky and having to make many
detours to get along. A descent of about 500 feet was followed by a
climb of another 1,000 feet, at the end of which we found ourselves
exactly opposite to the great amphitheatre of granite formed by
Chomoloenzo and Makalu and facing Westwards. So steep were these great
white granite cliffs that no snow lodged on them. Above them were other
cliffs of ice with rather gentler slopes; at their feet was a great
glacier that filled up the whole of this basin and then swept down till
it almost joined the Kangshung Glacier. I had taken with me as usual Ang
Tenze and Nyima Tendu, the two coolies who always accompanied me, each
of them carrying a camera. We now came to a glacier which it was
necessary to cross, and therefore roped up once more. The snow by this
time had become rather soft, and we were constantly breaking through the
crust. The glare and heat of the sun on this glacier were very intense,
and both Nyima and I were feeling very limp from the heat. Ang Tenze was
extraordinarily active and did not seem to mind heat or height--a quite
exceptionally gifted mountaineer. Having successfully crossed the
glacier, we left the soft snow and found our way over some easy rocks
and eventually reached the top of the ridge for which we were making, at
a height of about 21,500 feet, and some 500 feet above the snow-covered
pass to the East of us. From the top of the ridge we had a most glorious
view looking across range upon range of snowy mountains in Nepal.
Immediately below us was a large snow "neve," towards which glaciers
descended from a number of snow-covered peaks. From this neve a great
glacier swept round towards the Southern side of Makalu, apparently
descending into a valley that ran parallel to the Kama Valley and on the
South side of Makalu. Chamlang and other snow peaks to the South showed
up very clearly, covered with snow and ice to very much lower elevations
than any mountain on the North side of the Himalayas. On either side of
us towered up Makalu and Everest, but seen from this point the huge
cliffs of Chomoloenzo presented by far the most astounding sight. From
here I could see a few thousand feet of the Southern slopes of Mount
Everest which we had been unable to see from any other point before.
From the angle at which I saw them these appeared very steep, and even
if it were possible and permissible to go into Nepal, it seems
improbable that a practicable route lies up that face of the mountain. I
spent a couple of hours up here taking photographs, enjoying the views,
and eating my lunch in comfort, for the sun was hot and for once in a
way there was no wind. To the South-west of us, across the neve, there
appeared to be another easy pass which seemed to lead round to the South
of Mount Everest, and Ang Tenze, who came from the Khombu Valley, said
that he thought that he recognised some of the mountain tops that he saw
over this, and that if we crossed this pass, we should eventually
descend into the Khombu Valley. He also told me that there were stories
that once upon a time there was a pass from the Khombu Valley into the
Kama Valley, and that this was probably the pass in question, but that
it had been disused for a great number of years. To support his theory
we found on the way down a kind of shelter built of stones and some
pieces of juniper hidden under a big rock. This would have been too high
up for any yak herds to camp, as it was above the grazing pastures, and
seemed to prove that the spot might have been used as a halting-place
for smugglers or people fleeing from the law before they crossed these
passes. It had taken us six and a half hours from camp to get up to the
top of this pass; and we had had no halts on the way beyond what were
necessary to take photographs. The downward journey took us four hours.
We tried another way by the side of the Makalu Glacier, desiring thereby
to avoid the tiresome and rather difficult bit along the top of the
ridge. This short cut proved, however, to be still more trying and
wearisome. From the cliffs above there had been great rock falls down to
the edge of the glacier, and for a couple of miles we had to jump from
boulder to boulder and to clamber either up or down the whole time.
There was still the Kangshung Glacier to cross, with more up and down
hill work, the stones being much looser and more inclined to slip under
foot than they were in the morning. Eventually we reached camp, just
before dark, and feeling very tired. A cup of tea, however, with a
little brandy in it, completely removed all fatigue. Wollaston had been
able during the day to get some beautiful photographs of the
snow-powdered cliffs of Chomoloenzo, and also some interesting ones of
the Kangshung Glacier. Besides these he had been able to collect a
number of seeds. It is astonishing how quickly at these heights seeds
ripen, and how short a time it is after flowering that they are fit for
picking.
[Illustration: CHOMOLOeNZO. from the alp below the Langma La, Kama
Valley.]
We had been very lucky in getting such a perfect day in the Kama
Valley, for fine days there were very few. After our one perfect day the
weather changed again, and for the next three days we descended the Kama
Valley in sleet and snow. The first morning our march was only to our
old camp at Tangsham on a glacial terrace 1,000 feet above the valley.
At first Everest was clear and all the mountains to the West, but heavy
clouds came rolling up from the South-east and soon enveloped
everything. On the way I managed to collect for Wollaston a number of
the seeds of that lovely blue primula which I had found in flower here
in August. I shot, too, a common snipe, which I was very surprised to
meet at these altitudes. I flushed him beside a small spring close to
the camp. During the afternoon it snowed and sleeted, and Wheeler came
in very tired in the evening after having spent the whole of the day on
a prominent peak, from which he had been unable to get a single
photograph or to take any bearings. In spite of the snow that evening we
had a cheery bonfire of juniper, willow and rhododendron. The next
morning, though we were down at 15,000 feet, there were a couple of
inches of fresh snow on the ground. The weather at first was very misty,
and we had no views at all. We soon, however, descended below the snow,
and the autumnal colours in the valley began to show. On the opposite
side of it below the great black cliffs, the bushes were all shades of
brown and gold. In the forests the rose bushes had turned a brilliant
red, and the mountain ash showed every shade of scarlet and crimson,
contrasting well with the shiny dark green leaves of the rhododendron.
The golden colours of the birch and the dark junipers also made a
beautiful combination of colour. Rain set in again steadily, and as snow
was falling on the "field of marigolds" where we had intended to camp,
we pitched our tents in the midst of a huge rock-fall--1,000 feet lower
down. Our coolies did not pitch any tents for themselves, but preferred
to scatter in twos and threes and to camp under the overhanging rocks
which they found apparently warmer and more comfortable than the tents.
There had been a wonderful growth of vegetation among these huge
boulders, many of them 40 feet to 50 feet in height, which had come down
from the cliffs above. Wollaston and I spent most of the afternoon
pottering round and collecting seeds of plants of different kinds. The
next morning we had trouble in getting hold of the coolies; they were
scattered among the rocks, and in spite of shouts, refused to budge
until I went round with a big stick and poked them out of their holes. I
crossed the Shao La in thick mist, though Wollaston and Wheeler, who
came along an hour behind, had some beautiful glimpses of Makalu in the
clouds and were able to get some photographs. After crossing the pass,
we descended past several beautiful lakes and arrived in fine weather at
Kharta in the afternoon. The autumn tints on the way down were again
very beautiful, and most of the crops had already been gathered in.
Mallory and Bullock had, we found, left Kharta, being in a great hurry
to get back to civilisation again.
It was September 30 when we reached Kharta. We had now finished our
reconnaissance. We had investigated all the valleys to the West,
North-west, North, North-east and East of the mountain, and had
eventually found that there was only one possible route of approach to
the summit. The bad weather and the furious North-westerly gales had
prevented our attaining any great height this year. The rainy season had
begun some three weeks later than usual. The rains, they told us, had
been much heavier than in most years in Tibet, and the wet season had
lasted until very nearly the end of September, after which time a period
of gales set in which made climbing at heights above 23,000 feet a
physical impossibility. Undoubtedly the best time to try and climb the
mountain would be before the monsoon breaks in May or early June. It
might be possible, if the monsoon happened to end by the beginning of
September, to tackle the mountain early in September, but after the
middle of that month the chances of doing any good grow steadily weaker
and the cold increases with great rapidity. Whether it will be possible
in any conditions to reach the summit I am very doubtful. We, however,
had never intended to make a sustained effort to reach the top in 1921.
The reconnaissance of the mountain and its approaches afforded us indeed
no time to make such an effort, and we felt bound to investigate every
valley that led up to it. The Everest Committee had already before we
left for India in 1921 decided to send out a second Expedition in the
following year, for the express purpose of climbing Mount Everest, and
for this purpose had already then promised the leadership to
Brig.-General C. G. Bruce, whose unrivalled knowledge of climbing and
climatic conditions in the Himalayas specially fitted him for the work.
Whether the task is capable of accomplishment I will not attempt to say,
though I should think the chances are on the whole against success. If
Mount Everest were 6,000, or even 5,000 feet lower, I think there can be
no doubt that it could be climbed. There are no physical difficulties in
the shape of the mountain which prevent it being climbed--the
difficulties are all connected with its altitude. If the snow is soft
and powdery, and the conditions are such as we met with so often; or if,
again, there is difficult rock climbing in the last 2,000 or 3,000 feet
of the climb, I do not think the summit will be reached. I cannot say
what the effect will be if oxygen is taken to aid the human effort. I
only know that cylinders of oxygen are very uncomfortable and heavy to
carry, and that to wear a mask over the mouth and to climb so equipped
would not seem to be very feasible or pleasant. Living at great heights,
and trying to sleep at great heights, lowers the vitality enormously.
Larger tents than those with which we were supplied might well be taken
in order to prevent the depressing headaches that follow from sleeping
in a confined and airless space. Among minor discomforts which count for
much may be mentioned the difficulty of preparing good warm food, and
for this purpose a coolie should be trained in cooking and in the use of
the "Primus" and spirit stoves. This coolie should be a man accustomed
to great heights, and he should accompany the party up to the highest
camps in order to avoid the difficulties we had in connection with the
preparation of our food and then having to live on such makeshifts as
sardines and biscuits. I never lost my appetite at heights over 20,000
feet--I was always able to eat well, though not everything appealed to
the palate. Sweet things were especially wanted. That it is possible to
acclimatise the system to live at heights is true, but only to a certain
extent--up to about 18,000 feet we could acclimatise ourselves very
comfortably, and I know in my own case that after six months' living in
Tibet, I was able to do far more than when I first came into the
country, but at greater heights I think a prolonged stay permanently
lowers the vitality. Sleeplessness is another great enemy at heights,
and most of the party I found slept very poorly at the highest camp.
Mallory, I think, was the only exception. It ought to be possible to
pick out a few coolies capable of carrying loads able to go as far as
any European can get. Some of them seem to feel the height much less
than others, and I believe that an unladen native would be able to go
much higher if he had the knowledge of ice and snow that Alpine climbers
have, and would not improbably reach a greater height than any European.
Twenty-nine thousand feet is, however, a tremendous height for anyone to
attain, and I own that I am not at all sanguine that the summit will be
reached, though I have no doubt that this year will see the Duke of the
Abruzzi's record of 24,600 broken, and I shall not be at all surprised
to see a height of 25,000 or 26,000 feet arrived at.