ATTEMPT TO ASCEND NANGA PARBAT
'An ancient peak, in that most lonely land,
Snow-draped and desolate, where the white-fleec'd clouds
Like lagging sheep are wandering all astray,
Till the shrill whistling wind, their shepherd rude,
Drives them before him at the early dawn
To feed upon the barren mountain tops.
Far from the stately pines, whose branches woo
The vagrant breeze with murmuring melody,
Far from the yellow cornlands, far from streams
And dewy lawns soft cradled deep below,
Naked it stands. The cold wind's goblin prate,
Of weird lost legends born in days of old,
Echoes all night amongst its pinnacles;
Whilst higher more remote a storm-swept dome
Mocks the pale moon: there nothing living reigns
Save one old spirit of a forgotten God.'
FRAGMENT.
[Illustration: _On Nanga Parbat from Upper Camp._]
A week before this, on the same day that Bruce had left us, our cook
and our head shikari, together with some coolies, had been sent to
fetch up from the Bunar valley any provisions they could find. We knew
that if they had travelled with ordinary speed, five days was ample for
the whole journey, and they were therefore two days overdue. Moreover,
in our camp provisions for only one day remained. Our position was
annoying. Of course, as the weather had turned fine again we wished
to carry more necessaries up to the camp at the head of the Diamirai
glacier, just under Nanga Parbat; but even where we were at the base
camp, it was two days' hard travelling from the nearest village and
food. This position of affairs produced a long discussion, and finally
we agreed that we ourselves must go down to Bunar after the dilatory
servants. It was most provoking, but there was no help for it. Leaving
the camp in charge of the goat-herd from the Lubar nullah, and our
water-carrier or bhisti, Mummery and I started off with Lor Khan and
some servants for Bunar. The further we went the worse the path became,
but by skirting upwards along the hill-side, on the left of the valley,
we soon left the Diamirai glacier far below us. About this point we
met our head shikari, who had come on in front of the remainder of the
party from Bunar--at least he said so, but we could get very little
accurate information out of him. In fact, as we afterwards discovered,
he had stopped at the first village he had come to, and remained
there doing nothing, or at least nothing connected with getting us
provisions, which work he left to the cook. After enjoying himself
for three days in this manner, thinking it was time to return, and
collecting what he could, namely some grapes and apples, he came back
to us with them as a peace-offering. Whilst he had been away, however,
unfortunately for him, our other servants had explained several curious
things which we at the time did not understand. These explanations left
in our minds no doubt that this wretched Kashmir shikari had not only
been robbing us, but also all the coolies as well. We in our ignorance
thought that if the coolies were paid with our own hands, the money at
least would be safe. In the East this is by no means the case, for the
moment we were out of sight, this wily old ruffian would return to the
coolies, telling them that they had been overpaid, and that the Sahibs
commanded them instantly to give back half of the money. Our coolies
were mostly Baltis from the Astor district. These poor Baltis have
been a downtrodden race for centuries, harried by their more warlike
and courageous neighbours--the Chilasis and the robbers of Gilgit and
Hunza. So the shikari has no difficulty in making them yield to his
extortion.
Mummery for some time listened to his obvious lying, but soon lost
his temper. A coolie anxious to go to his home in the Rupal nullah
here served our purpose. The shikari was told to return to the Rupal
nullah with him, and at the same time we gave him a letter to Hastings.
In that letter, which he could not read, we explained the situation,
and instructed Hastings to pay the shikari off and send him about his
business.
The route we were following soon turned away to the left, leaving the
Diamirai nullah on the right. It was afterwards that we found out the
reason for this. It seems to be impossible to descend or ascend this
portion of the Diamirai nullah direct. The valley narrows in below the
bottom of the glacier, and finally becomes a deep gorge with cliffs
thousands of feet high on either side. Our change in direction soon
showed us that we should have to cross the tributary Lubar nullah.
This meant that we had to climb down a very steep rocky face of about
3000 feet. At about four in the afternoon we arrived at the bottom,
finding an impassable glacier torrent thundering over great boulders
and swollen by the melted snows of the morning. Walls of rock barred
our way either up or down the stream, but Lor Khan said we were at
the ford. In vain we tried to place pine trunks across--they were
swept away one by one. It was a fine sight to see Lor Khan, stripped
to the waist, struggling in the icy water with the great pine stems,
a magnificent specimen of fearlessness, muscle, and activity.
Fortunately we had insisted on roping him, for once he was carried off
his feet and had to be brought back to land half drowned but laughing.
It soon became perfectly evident that we could not cross till early
next morning, when the frost on the glaciers above would have frozen
up the sources of this turbulent stream. As we were wondering where
we could possibly find room to lie down for the night, high above us
on the opposite bank a stone came bounding down a precipitous gully.
Who had started it? Some goat or other wild animal; or was it our cook
returning with provisions? Shouting was useless, for the roar of the
torrent drowned every noise. Five minutes passed, then ten, finally a
quarter of an hour, but we were not destined to be disappointed; at
last, more than five hundred feet up the gully opposite, we saw our
cook with all the coolies.
After they had descended, a rope was thrown across to them, and we
succeeded by its aid in hauling a slippery pine trunk into position
behind two large stones. Over this we crossed and camped on a narrow
spit of level ground underneath the perpendicular walls of rock:
chickens, sugar, eggs, three maunds of flour, and four sheep were
amongst the spoils brought up by our cook from Bunar. That evening we
ate our meal by the ruddy light of a great camp fire, with the roar
of the torrent making it almost impossible to hear our voices, and
underneath some gnarled and stunted pines, whose roots were firmly
imbedded in the great fissures that ran up the perpendicular rock
face. As the question of provisions had been settled for some time, we
returned much relieved in our minds to the Diamirai nullah.
The next day, August 14th, it again rained hard nearly all day. At 2
A.M. on the 15th we started once more for the upper camp. We took with
us Ragobir, Lor Khan, and a Chilasi coolie, whom I had called Richard
the Third, from his likeness to the usual portraits of that monarch.
More firewood and provisions and a silk tent were taken up to this
camp at the head of the glacier. Two rucksacks had already been left
high up on the rocks on the 9th. It was now Mummery's intention to
take some more odds and ends up to where they were, and if possible
push on with about a third of the provisions to about 20,000 feet, and
leave them there for the final attempt. This necessitated sleeping on
the top of the second rib of rocks. By the time I had arrived at the
upper camp underneath Nanga Parbat I began to develop a headache, and,
being otherwise ill as well, I had reluctantly to give up any idea
of climbing further. Mummery, Ragobir, and Lor Khan went on, whilst I
spent most of the morning watching them climb like flies up the almost
perpendicular rib of rocks above me.
[Illustration: _Nanga Parbat from the Diamirai Glacier._]
But I had to get home that night, and also get the coolie home as well.
This was no easy matter, for there were some steep ice slopes, with
steps cut in them, and crevasses at the bottom, which so frightened
poor Richard the Third, that for a long time I could not induce him
even to try. In fact, ultimately I had to threaten him violently with
my ice-axe. Whether he thought that it was a choice of death by cold
steel above, or cold ice below in the crevasse, I don't know, but
he chose the latter, and was much surprised to find that he was not
going to be sacrificed after all. Then, before we got home it began
to rain heavily, the mists came down, everything becoming dull and
dreary, the wind sighed sorrowfully up and down the valley, and I was
sorry for Mummery on the inhospitable slopes of the great mountain.
Mummery spent the night on the top of the second rib of rocks, and
next day he climbed about a thousand feet up the third rib, where he
left a rucksack with food. The climb was carried out almost entirely
in mist; in fact, in the afternoon down at the camp the mist and rain
made things thoroughly uncomfortable. I was beginning to get anxious
about Mummery, for he did not come back by sunset, and the night
promised to be one of drenching rain. But later, in the dark, he
marched back into camp, entirely wet through, but far more cheerful
than the circumstances warranted, and very pleased with the climbing.
His account of the ice world on Nanga Parbat was wonderful. Nowhere in
the Caucasus had he seen anything to compare with it. Avalanches had
fallen down thousands of feet, set at an angle of over 60 degrees, that
would have almost swept away towns. The crevasses were enormous, and
the rock-climbing, although difficult, was set at such a steep angle
that no time would be lost in making height towards the upper glacier
underneath the final peak. If only the weather would clear, Mummery
was sure that we could get on to this upper glacier. But the weather
sulked and was against us, it rained nearly all the next day, finishing
up with a tremendous thunderstorm. In hope that fine weather would now
set in, we turned into our tents for the night. About midnight, gusts
of cold wind began to moan amongst the stunted pines that surrounded
our tents; then, gathering in force, this demon of the mountains howled
round our tents, and snow came down in driven sheets. The anger of
the spirits that inhabited the mountains had been roused, we were
being informed of what awaited us, should we persist in our impious
endeavours to penetrate into the sanctuaries above.
Many times in the pitch darkness of the night I thought the small
Mummery tent I was in would be simply torn in pieces, but towards
daylight the hurricane gradually died away, and by nine o'clock the
sun came out. The scene, when I emerged from the tent, I shall never
forget. Bright sunshine and dazzling white snow--but where were all
the groves of rhododendron bushes, from four to five feet high, that
yesterday had surrounded our camp? Loaded with the snow, they had been
beaten flat, and lay there plastered and stuck tight to the ground, by
the ice and snow of the blizzard of the night before.
But under the double action of the sun's heat and the rapid evaporation
that takes place when the barometer stands only at about sixteen
inches, the snow, which was over six inches deep, soon melted, and by
the afternoon had all disappeared from around our camp. On the morrow a
cloudless sky and a northerly wind changed the whole aspect of affairs.
[Illustration: Diama Glacier.
Summit (26,629 feet)
Nanga Parbat Pass.
NANGA PARBAT FROM THE DIAMIRAI GLACIER.
A--Upper Camp at the base of Nanga Parbat.
B--First rib of rocks.
C--Second rib of rocks.
D--Sleeping-place on the top of the second rib of rocks.
E--Third rib of rocks.
F--Mr. A. F. Mummery's highest point (over 20,000 feet).
G--The foot of the Diama Glacier.
H--The Diamirai Glacier.
The dotted line shows route taken.]
We had a long consultation, Mummery arguing that we ought to start for
Nanga Parbat at once, and make an attempt to reach the summit. His only
fear was that Hastings would feel that we were not treating him fairly
by starting before he had returned from Astor and could join us in the
climb. But the weather had been changeable, and the Chilas coolies with
us were predicting that when the next snowstorm came, it would be worse
than the last, and the snow would not clear away so quickly. There
seemed great probability in their predictions. At any rate, with the
cold north wind the good weather would last, but we ought to make use
of that good weather at once.
So, hoping that Hastings would forgive us, we started on the final
attempt to reach the summit of Nanga Parbat.
Our position was as follows:--We had plenty of provisions and firewood
at the camp at the head of the glacier, a tent and more provisions with
some spirits and a boiling tin on the top of the second ridge of rocks,
and a last rucksack with more edibles half way up the third rib of rock.
On the evening of the 18th, Mummery, Ragobir, and I slept at the camp
at the head of the glacier (15,000 feet), but next morning they went on
alone, for the coarse food of the previous three weeks had not agreed
with me: flour that is largely composed of grindstone is apt to upset
one's digestion. Again I sat for a whole morning watching them crawl
slowly up that second rib of rock. Once they were hidden from my sight
in a huge cloud of snow dust, the fringe of one of those tremendous
avalanches that I have only seen in the Himalaya. At last, becoming too
small to follow with the eye, they disappeared from my sight.
That night I was again back in the base camp. There I found a note from
Hastings that had been sent on ahead from the Lubar nullah with the
goat-herd and a coolie; and the next day Hastings himself arrived with
large quantities of provisions. He had been as far as Astor, and said
that without the invaluable help of Goman Singh he would never have got
the coolies back over the Mazeno La.
Late that night Mummery and Ragobir came into camp. They had passed the
second night on the summit of the second rib of rocks. Next morning,
starting before daylight, they had pushed on up the final rib towards
the upper snow-field. The climbing, Mummery admitted, was excessively
difficult, but the higher he went the easier it became. Finally, at a
height of over 20,000 feet, for he could see over the Nanga Parbat col
on his right, Ragobir turned ill: it was therefore folly to attempt to
spend another night on the mountain at that height. Reluctantly he had
to return; and his disappointment was great, for, as he said, most of
the difficulties had been overcome below the upper snow-field, and he
was confident that had he reached these upper snows and been able to
spend another night on the mountain, he might have reached the summit
on the following day.
Thus ended the only attempt Mummery made to reach the summit of Nanga
Parbat.
I shall always look upon it as one of his finest climbs. Part of it I
know from personal experience, and from Mummery's description of the
upper half, there must have been some magnificent climbing, surrounded
by an ice world such as can be seen nowhere except on peaks with at
least 15,000 feet of snow on them. But it was on too large a scale for
ordinary mortals, and the difficulties began just above the camp, at
the head of the glacier, 12,000 feet below the summit of the mountain.
Although the last 6000 feet of the mountain does not look as if it
would present much difficulty or danger, yet above 20,000 feet one
would necessarily make height very slowly, and much step-cutting would
be almost impossible at that height.
The following two days were spent in discussing what we should do next;
for Mummery had very sorrowfully come to the conclusion that his route
up Nanga Parbat from the Diamirai glacier must be abandoned.
Ultimately it was agreed that, owing to all the recent snowfalls,
a purely snow route was the only one that would give any chance of
success. Our last chance lay in finding such a route; in the Rakiot
nullah, there perhaps Nanga Parbat might be less precipitous. So
thither we determined to go.
When Mummery and Ragobir had come down from the mountain, they did
not bring with them the rucksacks from the top of the second rib of
rocks. These were too valuable to leave behind. Mummery, disliking the
interminable scrambling over loose stones which he would have to endure
should he come with the coolies, suggested that the two Gurkhas should
be sent early on the 23rd up the glacier to fetch the rucksacks down
to the camp at the head of the Diamirai glacier. Here later in the day
Mummery should join them, and from this point he could go up the Diama
glacier which lay between Nanga Parbat and the Ganalo peak, 21,650
feet high. A snow pass (Diama pass) would then separate them from the
Rakiot nullah. He left us on the 23rd, and took with him Lor Khan, and
Rosamir, our head coolie, to carry some extra provisions up to the
higher camp. That evening they were joined by Ragobir and Goman Singh,
who had successfully brought down the rucksacks.
[Illustration: VIEW OF DIAMA GLACIER FROM SLOPES OF DIAMIRAI PEAK.
The arrow shows the route taken by Mr. A. F. MUMMERY on 24th August.
Diama Pass. Nanga Parbat.]
Next morning, the 24th August, Lor Khan and Rosamir, having seen them
start off up the Diama valley to the east, returned down the Diamirai
valley and joined us later. Mummery, Ragobir, and Goman Singh were
never seen again.