THE ROUTE TO THE SUMMIT
The reader who has carefully followed the preceding story will hardly
have failed to notice that the route which has been chosen as the only
one offering reasonable chances of success remains still very largely a
matter of speculation. But the reconnaissance, unless it were actually
to reach the summit, was obliged to leave much unproved, and its value
must depend upon observations in various sorts and not merely upon the
practice of treading the snow and rocks. Speculation in this case is
founded upon experience of certain phenomena and a study of the
mountain's features; and it is by relating what has been only seen with
known facts that inferences have been drawn.
It may perhaps be accounted a misfortune that the party of 1921 did not
approach Chang La by the East Rongbuk Glacier. The Lhakpa La proved a
bigger obstacle than was expected. But in conditions such as we hope to
find before the monsoon, this way would have much to recommend it. It
avoids all laborious walking on a dry glacier, and with hard snow the
walk up to the pass from the camp on stones at 20,000 feet should not be
unduly fatiguing. Still the fact remains that the descent from the
Lhakpa La on to the East Rongbuk Glacier is not less than 1,200 feet.
Would it not be better to follow up this glacier from the Rongbuk
Valley? The absence of wood on this side need not deter the party of
1922. For them plenty of time will be available sufficiently to provide
their base with fuel, and the sole consideration should be the easiest
line of approach; and though no one has traversed the whole length of
the East Rongbuk Glacier, enough is known to choose this way with
confidence. Here, as on other glaciers which we saw, the difficulties
clearly lie below the limit of perpetual snow, and the greater part of
them were avoided or solved by Major Wheeler, who found a practicable
way on to the middle of the glacier at about 19,000 feet, and felt
certain that the medial moraine ahead of him would serve for an ascent
and be no more arduous than the moraines of the West Rongbuk Glacier had
proved to be. The view of this way from the Lhakpa La confirmed his
opinion, and though it may be called a speculation to choose it, whereas
the way from the East has been established by experiment, it is a fair
inference from experience to conclude that the untraversed section of
the East Rongbuk Glacier, a distance which could be accomplished very
easily in one march if all went well, will afford a simple approach to
Chang La.
The Eastern wall, about 1,000 feet high, by which the gap itself must be
reached, can never be lightly esteemed. Here reconnaissance has forged a
link. But those who reached the col were not laden with tents and
stores; and on another occasion the conditions may be different. There
may be the danger of an avalanche or the difficulty of ice. From what we
saw this year before the monsoon had brought a heavy snowfall it is by
no means improbable that ice will be found at the end of May on the
steepest slope below Chang La. In that case much labour will be required
to hew and keep in repair a staircase, and perhaps fix a banister, so
that the laden coolies, not all of whom will be competent ice-men, may
be brought up in safety.
The summit of Mount Everest is about 6,000 feet above Chang La; the
distance is something like 21/2 miles and the whole of it is unexplored.
What grounds have we for thinking that the mountaineering difficulties
will not prove insuperable, that in so far as mere climbing is concerned
the route is practicable? Two factors, generally speaking, have to be
considered: the nature of the ground and the general angle of
inclination. Where the climber is confined to a narrow crest and can
find no way to circumvent an obstacle, a very small tower or wall, a
matter of 20 feet, may bar his progress. There the general angle may be
what it likes: the important matter for him is that the angle is too
steep in a particular place. But on a mountain's face where his choice
is not limited to a strict and narrow way, the general angle is of
primary importance: if it is sufficiently gentle, the climber will find
that he may wander almost where he will to avoid the steeper places.
Long before we reached Chang La Mr. Bullock and I were fairly well
convinced that the slope from here to the North-east Shoulder was
sufficiently gentle and that the nature of the ill-defined ridge
connecting these two points was not such as to limit the choice of route
to a narrow line. Looking up from the North Col, we learnt nothing more
about the angles. The view, however, was not without value; it amply
confirmed our opinion as to the character of what lay ahead of us. The
ridge is not a crest; its section is a wide and rounded angle. It is not
decorated by pinnacles, it does not rise in steps. It presents a smooth
continuous way, and whether the rocks are still covered with powdery
snow, or only slightly sprinkled and for the most part bare, the party
of 1922 should be able to go up a long way at all events without meeting
any serious obstacle. It may not prove a perfectly simple matter
actually to reach the North-east arete above the shoulder at about
28,000 feet. The angle becomes steeper towards this arete. But even in
the last section below it, the choice of a way should not be
inconveniently restricted. On the right of the ascending party will be
permanent snow on various sloping ledges, an easy alternative to rocks
if the snow is found in good condition, and always offering a detour by
which to avoid an obstacle.
From the North-east Shoulder to the summit of the mountain the way is
not so smooth. The rise is only 1,000 feet in a distance of half a mile,
but the first part of the crest is distinctly jagged by several towers
and the last part is steep. Much will depend upon the possibility of
escaping from the crest to avoid the obstacles and of regaining it
easily. The South-east side (left going up) is terribly steep, and it
will almost certainly be out of the question to traverse there. But the
sloping snow-covered ledges on the North-west may serve very well; the
difficulty about them is their tendency to be horizontal in direction
and to diverge from the arete where it slopes upwards, so that a party
which had followed one in preference to the crest might find themselves
cut off by a cliff running across the face above them. But one way or
another I think it should be possible with the help of such ledges to
reach the final obstacle. The summit itself is like the thin end of a
wedge thrust up from the mass in which it is embedded. The edge of it,
with the highest point at the far end, can only be reached from the
North-east by climbing a steep blunt edge of snow. The height of this
final obstacle must be fully 200 feet. Mr. Bullock and I examined it
often through our field-glasses, and though it did not appear
insuperable, whatever our point of view, it never looked anything but
steep.
* * * * *
To determine whether it is humanly possible to climb to the summit of
Mount Everest or what may be the chances of success in such an
undertaking, other factors besides the mere mountaineering difficulties
have to be considered. It is at least probable that the obstacles
presented by this mountain could be overcome by any competent party if
they met them in the Alps. But it is a very different matter to be
confronted with such obstacles at elevations between 23,000 and 29,000
feet. We do not know that it is physiologically possible at such high
altitudes for the human body to make the efforts required to lift itself
up even on the simplest ground. The condition of the party of 1921 in
September during the days of the Assault cannot be taken as evidence
that the feat is impossible. The long periods spent in high camps and
the tax of many exhausting expeditions had undoubtedly reduced the
physical efficiency of Sahibs and coolies alike. The party of 1922, on
the other hand, will presumably choose for their attempt a time when the
climbers are at the top of their form and their powers will depend on
the extent of their adaptability to the condition of high altitude.
Nothing perhaps was so astonishing in the party of reconnaissance as the
rapidity with which they became acclimatised and capable of great
exertions between 18,000 and 21,000 feet. Where is the limit of this
process? Will the multiplication of red corpuscles continue so that men
may become acclimatised much higher? There is evidence enough to show
that they may exist comfortably enough, eating and digesting hearty
meals and retaining a feeling of vitality and energy up to 23,000 feet.
It may be that, after two or three days quietly spent at this height,
the body would sufficiently adjust itself to endure the still greater
difference from normal atmospheric pressure 6,000 feet higher. At all
events, a practical test can alone provide the proof in such a case.
Experiments carried out in a laboratory by putting a man into a sealed
chamber and reducing the pressure say to half an atmosphere, valuable as
they may be when related to the experiences of airmen, can establish
nothing for mountaineers; for they leave out of account the
all-important physiological factor of acclimatisation. But in any case
it is to be expected that efforts above 23,000 feet will be more
exhausting than those at lower elevations; and it may well be that the
nature of the ground will turn the scale against the climber. For him it
is all important that he should be able to breathe regularly, the demand
upon his lungs along the final arete cannot fail to be a terrible
strain, and anything like a tussle up some steep obstacle which would
interfere with the regularity of his breathing might prove to be an
ordeal beyond his strength.
As a way out of these difficulties of breathing, the use of oxygen has
often been recommended and experiments were made by Dr. Kellas,[14]
which will be continued in 1922.
[14] See _Geographical Journal._
Even so there will remain the difficulty of establishing one or perhaps
two camps above Chang La (23,000 feet). It is by no means certain that
any place exists above this point on which tents could be pitched.
Perhaps the party will manage without tents, but no great economy of
weight will be effected that way; those who sleep out at an elevation of
25,000 or 26,000 feet will have to be bountifully provided with warm
things. Probably about fifteen, or at least twelve loads will have to be
carried up from Chang La. It is not expected that oxygen will be
available for this purpose, and the task, whatever organisation is
provided, will be severe, possibly beyond the limits of human strength.
Further, another sort of difficulty will jeopardise the chances of
success. It might be possible for two men to struggle somehow to the
summit, disregarding every other consideration. It is a different matter
to climb the mountain as mountaineers would have it climbed. Principles,
time-honoured in the Alpine Club, must of course be respected in the
ascent of Mount Everest. The party must keep a margin of safety. It is
not to be a mad enterprise rashly pushed on regardless of danger. The
ill-considered acceptance of any and every risk has no part in the
essence of persevering courage. A mountaineering enterprise may keep
sanity and sound judgment and remain an adventure. And of all principles
by which we hold the first is that of mutual help. What is to be done
for a man who is sick or abnormally exhausted at these high altitudes?
His companions must see to it that he is taken down at the first
opportunity and with an adequate escort; and the obligation is the same
whether he be Sahib or coolie; if we ask a man to carry our loads up the
mountain we must care for his welfare at need. It may be taken for
granted that such need will arise and will interfere very seriously with
any organisation however ingeniously and carefully it may be arranged.
* * * * *
[Illustration: MOUNT EVEREST
from the 20,000 foot camp--wind blowing snow off the mountain.]
In all it may be said that one factor beyond all others is required for
success. Too many chances are against the climbers; too many
contingencies may turn against them. Anything like a breakdown of the
transport will be fatal; soft snow on the mountain will be an
impregnable defence; a big wind will send back the strongest; even so
small a matter as a boot fitting a shade too tight may endanger one
man's foot and involve the whole party in retreat. The climbers must
have above all things, if they are to win through, good fortune, and the
greatest good fortune of all for mountaineers, some constant spirit of
kindness in Mount Everest itself, the forgetfulness for long enough of
its more cruel moods; for we must remember that the highest of mountains
is capable of severity, a severity so awful and so fatal that the wiser
sort of men do well to think and tremble even on the threshold of their
high endeavour.
NATURAL HISTORY
BY A. F. R. WOLLASTON