THE ASSAULT
In the agreeable climate of Kharta we were sufficiently occupied with
the results of photography and preparations for the future; and there
was time besides for unmixed idleness, which we knew how to appreciate.
Our thoughts turned often to the weather. Local lore confirmed our
expectations for September, and we looked each day for signs of a
change. It was arranged, in hope if not in confidence, to move up on the
first signs of improvement. Already before we came down to Kharta our
Advanced Base Camp had been moved up; it was now situated at about
17,300 feet on a convenient grassy plateau and only a reasonable stage
below our 20,000-foot camp, where some light tents and stores had also
been left. At these two camps we had, in fact, left everything which we
should not absolutely require at Kharta, so that few mountaineering
stores would have to be carried forward from the Base when we came up
again. Our first task would be to supply the Advanced Base with food and
fuel, and a start had already been made by collecting here a pile of
wood, nominally thirty loads. Transport in any case was not likely to be
a difficulty in the early stages. Local coolies could easily be hired,
and Howard-Bury was to follow us up after a short interval with all
available strength to help in every possible way.
The first object which our plans must include was, of course, to reach
Chang La; by finding the way to this point we should establish a line of
attack and complete a stage of our reconnaissance. Secondly we must aim
at reaching the North-east Shoulder. In so far as it was an object of
reconnaissance to determine whether it was possible to climb Mount
Everest, our task could never be complete until we had actually climbed
it; but short of that it was important to have a view of the final
stage, and could we reach the great shoulder of the arete we should at
least be in a better position to estimate what lay between there and the
summit. Finally we saw no reason to exclude the supreme object itself.
It would involve no sacrifice of meaner ends; the best would not
interfere with the good. For if it should turn out that the additional
supplies required for a longer campaign were more than our coolies could
carry, we would simply drop them and aim less high.
In organising the assault we had first to consider how our camps could
be established, at Lhakpa La or perhaps better beyond it at a lower
elevation, at Chang La, and finally as high as possible, somewhere under
the shoulder, we thought, at about 26,500 feet. From the camp on Chang
La we should have to carry up ten loads, each of 15 lb., which would
provide tents enough, and sleeping-sacks and food for a maximum of four
Sahibs and four coolies; sixteen coolies were allowed for this task;
twelve therefore would have to return on the day of their ascent and
sleep at Chang La, and on the assumption that they would require an
escort of Sahibs who must also sleep at this camp, four small tents must
remain there, making six in all to be carried up to this point. The
lower end of the ladder must be so constructed as to support this weight
at the top. It was comparatively a simple matter to provide the earlier
camps. The first above the advanced base--that at 20,000 feet--could be
filled before we moved up to sleep there, the coolies returning on the
same day whenever they carried up loads. And the same plan could be
adopted for the second at Lhakpa La; only one journey there, I
calculated, would be required before we started in force from the
20,000-foot camp to go straight ahead without delay. The crux would lie
in the stage from Lhakpa La to Chang La. At the most we should have
twenty-three coolies, sixteen who had been all along with the climbing
party, three whom Wheeler had partially trained, and four more Sherpas,
the maximum number being determined by the supply of boots. But it would
not be necessary to carry on all the loads from Lhakpa La; and return
journeys could be made from Chang La both by those who were not to stay
there and by the twelve already mentioned who might fetch supplies if
necessary on the final day of the assault. This plan was never executed
in its later stages, and we cannot know for certain whether it would
have held good. But it may be conjectured, in view of our experience,
that the weakest link would have broken; either an extra day would have
been spent between Lhakpa La and Chang La, or, if we had reached Chang
La according to programme with the minimum of supplies, the coolies
would not have been brought to this point a second time and the climbing
party would have been cut off from its reserves. And, granted the most
favourable conditions for the attempt, in asking the coolies to carry
loads of 30 lb. on two consecutive days at these high altitudes, we were
probably expecting too much of them. It must be concluded, if this
opinion is correct, that we had not enough coolies for what we intended.
On the last day of August, Bullock and I were established once again at
our Advanced Base. The weather had not yet cleared, though it was
showing some signs of change. But it had been necessary to move up for
the coolies' sake. At Kharta, where they found little to amuse them and
no work to employ their time, they had sought diversion with the aid of
liquor and become discontented and ill-affected. They were badly in need
of a routine, which at the Advanced Base was easily enough provided.
Besides, I wanted to be ready, and it seemed not too soon to begin
carrying loads up to the next camp. There was no occasion for hurry in
the event. We were obliged to wait nearly three weeks, until September
19, before moving forward. The delay served no useful purpose, the work
of supplying our present needs and providing for the future was
sufficiently spread over the long tale of days, but interspersed with
more rest and leisure than anyone required.
In some respects life at the Advanced Base compared favourably with our
experience at other camps. The place had a charm of its own. The short
turf about us, the boulders and little streams reminded me of Welsh
hillsides; and these high pastures were often decorated by the brilliant
blues of _Gentiana ornata_ and by the most exquisite of saxifrages,
which, with the yellow and ochre markings on the cream glaze of its tiny
bowl, recalls the marginal ornament on some Persian page. Whenever the
weather cleared for a few hours we saw down the valley a splendid peak
in a scene of romantic beauty, and by walking up to a stony shoulder
only 2,000 feet above us, we had amazing views of Everest and Makalu.
And it was an advantage during these days of waiting to be a larger
party, as we soon became.
Bury and Wollaston, and also Raeburn whom we rejoiced to see again, had
come up on the 6th, Morshead and Wheeler on the 11th, and for two nights
Heron was of our company. We made little excursions to keep ourselves
fit, and on one occasion enjoyed some rock-climbing. But it amused
nobody to watch the procession of clouds which precipitated sleet by day
and snow by night, and our appetite for adventure could not be
stimulated by making time pass in some endurable fashion and counting
the unhopeful signs.
Under these circumstances I became more than ever observant of the
party's physical condition. I find a passage in one of my letters
written during this period of waiting in which I boast of finding myself
"still able to go up about 1,500 feet in an hour--not bad going at these
altitudes"--a reassuring statement enough but for the one word "still,"
which betrays all my anxiety. In fact there was too much cause to be
anxious. Three of our strongest coolies were ill at this camp; others
seemed to be tired more easily than they should be. And what of the
Sahibs? At least it must be said that several of them were not looking
their best. Bullock, though he never complained, seemed no longer to be
the fit man he was at the end of July. And for my part I began to
experience a certain lack of exuberance when going up hill. I came to
realise that all such efforts were unduly exhausting; my reserve of
strength had somehow diminished. The whole machine, in fact, was running
down; the days continued to pass with their cloud and rain and snow,
always postponing our final effort to a later date and a colder season;
and with them our chances of success were slowly vanishing.
When at last the weather cleared, it was evident that the fate of our
enterprise would be decided by the sun's power to melt the snow. In a
subsequent chapter I shall have more to say about the snow's melting; it
may suffice to remark here that, before we left the Advanced Base, I had
good reason to expect that we should meet adverse conditions, and was
resolved at the same time that nothing was to be gained by waiting. The
coolies were lightly laden up to the First Advanced Camp and
sufficiently unfatigued to proceed next day. On the 20th, therefore,
leaving Bullock to accompany Wheeler, Morshead and I set forth to get
fourteen loads up to Lhakpa La. We had one spare coolie who carried no
load, and Sanglu, who was now our acting Sirdar, four of us in all, to
break the trail for the loaded men. Snow-shoes were not carried because
there were not enough to go round. Though our prospects of reaching a
high point on Everest were already sufficiently dim, I intended to carry
out the original plan until obliged by circumstances to modify it; it
might prove necessary to spend an extra day in reaching Chang La, and in
that case we could perhaps afford to stop short of Lhakpa La and
establish our camp below its final slopes. But if the strain on this
first day was likely to be severe, I argued that the coolies could rest
to-morrow, and that the second journey in frozen tracks would be easy
enough. That we should be passing the night a few hundred feet higher
(at 22,500 feet) was a relatively unimportant consideration. The great
matter was to put heart into the coolies; it would be infinitely more
encouraging to reach the crest with a sense of complete achievement, to
see the clear prospect ahead and to proceed downwards on the other side.
Our start at an early hour on the 20th was propitious enough. It was the
same moonlit glacier of our expedition a month before as we made good
our approach to its surface. But the conditions were altered. For the
first time since we had come to these mountains we experienced the
wonderful delight of treading snow that is both crisp and solid. We
walked briskly over it, directly towards Mount Everest, with all the
hope such a performance might inspire. The night was exceedingly cold
and there was no untoward delay. In less than an hour we were at the
foot of the icefall. We were determined on this occasion not to avoid it
by the rocks of the left bank, but to find a quicker way through the
tumbled ice. At first all went well. A smooth-floored corridor took us
helpfully upwards. And then, in the dim light, we were among the
crevasses. To be seriously held up here might well be fatal to our
object, and in the most exciting kind of mountaineering adventures we
had the stimulus of this thought. We plunged into the maze and struggled
for a little time, crossing frail bridges over fantastic depths and
making steps up steep little walls, until it seemed we were in serious
trouble. One leap proposed by the leader proved too much for some of the
laden coolies and a good deal of pushing and pulling was required to
bring them over the formidable gap. We had begun to waste time. Halted
on a sharp little crest between two monstrous chasms Morshead and I
discussed the situation, and thereafter gravely proceeded to reconnoitre
the ground to our left. In ten minutes we came to another corridor like
the first, which brought us out above the icefall.
We were well satisfied with our progress as we halted at sunrise, and it
was a pleasant change to get our feet out of the snow and knock a little
warmth into chilled toes. But our confidence had ebbed. Even as we
entered the icefall our feet had occasionally broken the crust; as we
came out of it we were stamping a trail.
Dorji Gompa, our unladen coolie, and perhaps the strongest man of all,
took the lead when we went on, and plugged manfully upwards. But already
the party was showing signs of fatigue. One coolie, and then two others,
fell out and could not be induced to come further. I sent Dorji Gompa
back to bring on one of their loads. Morshead, Sanglu and I took turns
ahead and soon came to the worst snow we had encountered anywhere. In it
no firm steps could be stamped by the leaders to save the coolies
behind, and each man in turn had to contend with the shifting substance
of fine powder. The party straggled badly. It was necessary for some of
us to press on and prove that the goal could be reached. Many of the men
were obliged to halt at frequent intervals. But time was on our side.
Gradually the party fought its way up the final slopes. As we approached
the pass I looked back with Morshead over the little groups along our
track and saw some distance below the last moving figure another lying
huddled up on the snow. I soon learnt the meaning of this: it was Dorji
Gompa who lay there. He had carried on not one load as I had asked him,
but two, until he had fallen there dazed and exhausted.
At length eleven loads reached the pass and two more were only 800 feet
lower. If we had not done all we set out to do I was satisfied we had
done enough. We had established tracks to Lhakpa La which should serve
us well when they had frozen hard, and not too many loads remained below
to be brought up two days later.
We now obtained a clear view of Chang La; it was possible to make more
exact calculations, and it was evident we must modify our plans. We saw
a wall of formidable dimensions, perhaps 1,000 feet high; the surface
was unpleasantly broken by insuperable bergschrunds and the general
angle was undoubtedly steep. The slopes of Everest to the South were out
of the question, and if it were possible to avoid a direct assault by
the North side the way here would be long, difficult and exceedingly
laborious. The wall itself offered the best chance, and I was in good
hopes we could get up. But it would not be work for untrained men, and
to have on the rope a number of laden coolies, more or less mountain
sick, conducted by so small a nucleus as three Sahibs, who would also
presumably be feeling the effects of altitude, was a proposition not to
be contemplated for a moment. We must have as strong a party as possible
in the first place, simply to reach the col, and afterwards to bring up
a camp, if we were able, as a separate operation. With this idea I
selected the party. Wollaston felt that his place of duty was not with
the van; only Wheeler besides had sufficient mountaineering experience,
and it was decided that he alone should accompany Bullock and myself on
our first attempt to reach the col. Nevertheless, it seemed undesirable
to abandon so early the hope that Bury and Morshead would be of use to
us later on; and Wollaston clearly must start with us from the
20,000-foot camp where all had gathered on the 20th.
I had hoped we should have a full complement of coolies on the 22nd, but
when morning came it was found that three, including two of the best
men, were too ill to start. Consequently some of the loads were rather
heavier than I intended. But all arrived safely at Lhakpa La before
midday. Visited by malicious gusts from the North-west, the pass was
cheerless and chilly; however, the rim afforded us some protection, and
we decided to pitch our tents there rather than descend on the other
side with the whole party, a move which I felt might complicate the
return. I was not very happy about the prospects for the morrow. For my
own part I had been excessively and unaccountably tired in coming up to
the col; I observed no great sparkle of energy or enthusiasm among my
companions; Sanglu was practically _hors de combat_; some of the coolies
had with difficulty been brought to the col and were more or less
exhausted; and many complaints of headache, even from the best of them,
were a bad sign.
There was no question of bustling off before dawn on the 23rd, but we
rose early enough, as I supposed, to push on to Chang La if we were
sufficiently strong. Morshead and I in a Mummery tent had slept well and
I congratulated myself on an act of mutilation in cutting two large
slits in its roof. The rest had not fared so well, but seemed fit
enough, and the wonderful prospect from our camp at sunrise was a
cheering sight. With the coolies, however, the case was different. Those
who had been unwell overnight had not recovered, and it was evident that
only a comparatively small number would be able to come on; eventually I
gathered ten, two men who both protested they were ill casting lots for
the last place; and of these ten it was evident that none were
unaffected by the height and several were more seriously
mountain-sick.[13] Under these circumstances it was necessary to
consider which loads should be carried on. Bury, Wollaston and Morshead
suggested that they should go back at once so as not to burden the party
with the extra weight of their belongings, and it seemed the wisest plan
that they should return. Certain stores were left behind at Lhakpa La as
reserve supplies for the climbing party. I decided at an early hour that
our best chance was to take an easy day; after a late start and a very
slow march we pitched our tents on the open snow up towards the col.
[13] I use this expression to denote not a state of intermittent
vomiting, but simply one in which physical exertion exhausts the
body abnormally and causes a remarkable disinclination to further
exertion.
It might have been supposed that in so deep a cwm and sheltered on three
sides by steep mountain slopes, we should find a tranquil air and the
soothing, though chilly calm of undisturbed frost. Night came clearly
indeed, but with no gentle intentions. Fierce squalls of wind visited
our tents and shook and worried them with the disagreeable threat of
tearing them away from their moorings, and then scurried off, leaving us
in wonder at the change and asking what next to expect. It was a cold
wind at an altitude of 22,000 feet, and however little one may have
suffered, the atmosphere discouraged sleep. Again I believe I was more
fortunate than my companions, but Bullock and Wheeler fared badly. Lack
of sleep, since it makes one sleepy, always discourages an early start,
and hot drinks take time to brew; in any case, it was wise to start
rather late so as to have the benefit of warm sun whenever our feet
should be obliged to linger in cold snow or ice steps. It was an hour or
so after sunrise when we left the camp and half an hour later we were
breaking the crust on the first slopes under the wall. We had taken
three coolies who were sufficiently fit and competent, and now proceeded
to use them for the hardest work. Apart from one brief spell of cutting
when we passed the corner of a bergschrund it was a matter of
straightforward plugging, firstly slanting up to the right on partially
frozen avalanche snow and then left in one long upward traverse to the
summit. Only one passage shortly below the col caused either anxiety or
trouble; here the snow was lying at a very steep angle and was deep
enough to be disagreeable. About 500 steps of very hard work covered
all the worst of the traverse and we were on the col shortly before
11.30 a.m. By this time two coolies were distinctly tired, though by no
means incapable of coming on; the third, who had been in front, was
comparatively fresh. Wheeler thought he might be good for some further
effort, but had lost all feeling in his feet. Bullock was tired, but by
sheer will power would evidently come on--how far, one couldn't say. For
my part I had had the wonderful good fortune of sleeping tolerably well
at both high camps and now finding my best form; I supposed I might be
capable of another 2,000 feet, and there would be no time for more. But
what lay ahead of us? My eyes had often strayed, as we came up, to the
rounded edge above the col and the final rocks below the North-east
arete. If ever we had doubted whether the arete were accessible, it was
impossible to doubt any longer. For a long way up those easy rock and
snow slopes was neither danger nor difficulty. But at present there was
wind. Even where we stood under the lee of a little ice cliff it came in
fierce gusts at frequent intervals, blowing up the powdery snow in a
suffocating tourbillon. On the col beyond it was blowing a gale. And
higher was a more fearful sight. The powdery fresh snow on the great
face of Everest was being swept along in unbroken spindrift and the very
ridge where our route lay was marked out to receive its unmitigated
fury. We could see the blown snow deflected upwards for a moment where
the wind met the ridge, only to rush violently down in a frightful
blizzard on the leeward side. To see, in fact, was enough; the wind had
settled the question; it would have been folly to go on. Nevertheless,
some little discussion took place as to what might be possible, and we
struggled a few steps further to put the matter to the test. For a few
moments we exposed ourselves on the col to feel the full strength of the
blast, then struggled back to shelter. Nothing more was said about
pushing our assault any further.
It remained to take a final decision on the morning of the 25th. We were
evidently too weak a party to play a waiting game at this altitude. We
must either take our camp to the col or go back. A serious objection to
going forward lay in the shortage of coolies' rations. Had the men been
fit it would not have been too much for them to return, as I had
planned, unladen to Lhakpa La and reach Chang La again the same day. I
doubted whether any two could be found to do that now; and to subtract
two was to leave only eight, of whom two were unfit to go on, so that
six would remain to carry seven loads. However, the distance to the col
was so short that I was confident such difficulties could be overcome
one way or another.
A more unpleasant consideration was the thought of requiring a party
which already felt the height too much to sleep at least a 1,000 feet
higher. We might well find it more than we could do to get back over
Lhakpa La, and be forced to make a hungry descent down the Rongbuk
Valley. There would be no disaster in that event. The crucial matter was
the condition of the climbers. Were we fit to push the adventure
further? The situation, if any one of the whole party collapsed, would
be extremely disagreeable, and all the worse if he should be one of the
Sahibs, who were none too many to look after the coolies in case of
mountaineering difficulties. Such a collapse I judged might well be the
fate of one or other of us if we were to push our assault above Chang La
to the limit of our strength. And what more were we likely to accomplish
from a camp on Chang La? The second night had been no less windy than
the first. Soon after the weather cleared the wind had been strong from
North-west, and seemed each day to become more violent. The only signs
of a change now pointed to no improvement, but rather to a heavy fall of
snow--by no means an improbable event according to local lore. The
arguments, in fact, were all on one side; it would be bad heroics to
take wrong risks; and fairly facing the situation one could only admit
the necessity of retreat.
It may be added that the real weakness of the party became only too
apparent in the course of our return journey over Lhakpa La on this
final day; and it must be safe to say that none of the three climbers
has ever felt a spasm of regret about the decision to go back or a
moment's doubt as to its rightness. It was imposed upon us by
circumstances without a reasonable alternative.