THE ASSAULT ON THE MOUNTAIN
Now began in earnest our race against the monsoon. I have often been
asked since my return, whether we should not have done better if we had
started sooner. I think none of us would have cared to have arrived at
our Upper Rongbuk camp a fortnight earlier in the year, nor, having done
so, would any good purpose have been served. As it was, the temperature
and the coldness of the wind was as much as any of us could keep up with
and still keep our good health. This was to be our Base Camp at a height
of 16,500 feet. We made suitable dumps of stores, pitched our mess
tents, put all our porters in tents at their own particular places, and
made ourselves as comfortable as circumstances allowed, strengthening
the tents in every way to resist the wind. Noel also pitched his
developing tent near the small stream that issues from the Rongbuk
Glacier. On our arrival water was hardly available; all the running
streams were frozen hard, and we drove the whole of our animals over
them. Where the glacier stream flowed fastest in the centre, we got
sufficient water for drinking purposes.
[Illustration:
VIEW AT BASE CAMP.
]
The establishment and support of such a large party (for we were
thirteen Europeans and over sixty of what may be termed other ranks) in
a country as desolate and as bare as Tibet is a difficulty. There is, of
course, no fuel to be found, with the exception of a very little scrubby
root which, burnt in large quantities, would heat an oven, but which was
not good enough or plentiful enough for ordinary cooking purposes.
Our first work, beyond the establishment of the Base Camp, was
immediately to send out a reconnaissance party. Strutt was put in charge
of this, and chose as his assistants Norton, Longstaff, and Morshead.
The remainder of the party had to work very hard dividing stores and
arranging for the movement up to the different camps we wished to make
on the way up the East Rongbuk Glacier to the North Col. It was pretty
apparent from Major Wheeler’s map that our advance up the East Rongbuk
to the glacier crossed by Mr. Mallory in 1921, which is below the Chang
La, would not be a very difficult road. But it was a very considerable
question how many camps should be established, and how full provision
should be made for each? We were naturally very anxious to save our own
porters for the much more strenuous work of establishing our camp at the
North Col, and perhaps of further camps up the mountain. I had,
therefore, on our march up, made every possible endeavour to collect a
large number of Tibetan coolies in order that they should be employed in
moving all the heavy stuff as far up the glacier as possible; in fact,
until we came to ground which would not be suitable to them, or, rather,
not suitable to their clothing. They were perfectly willing to work on
any ground which was fairly dry, but their form of foot-covering would
certainly not allow of continual work in snow. We had a promise of
ninety men.
We further had to make full arrangements for a regular supply of
yak-dung, the whole of which, as in fact everything to burn in Tibet, is
called “shing,” which really means wood; all our fuel, therefore, from
now on, will be referred to as “shing.” All tzampa,[3] meat, and grain
for the men had to be procured as far down as Chobu, Tashishong, and
even from other villages still further down the Dzakar Chu; that is to
say, very often our supplies were brought up from at least 40 miles
distant. We required a pretty continuous flow of everything. It is
wonderful how much even seventy men can get through.
Footnote 3:
Flour.
The preliminary reconnaissance had fixed an excellent camp as our first
stage out. Geoffrey Bruce and Morris, with our own porters went up, and,
so as to save tents, built a number of stone shelters and roofed them
with spare parts of tents. This camp was immediately provisioned and
filled with every kind of supply in large amounts in order to form again
a little base from which to move up further. Strutt returned with his
reconnaissance on May 9, having made a complete plan for our advance and
having fixed all our camps up to the flat glacier under the North Col.
During this period Finch had also been very active with his oxygen
apparatus, not only in getting it all together, but continuing the
training of the personnel and in making experiments with the Leonard
Hill apparatus as well. He also gave lectures and demonstrations on the
use of our Primus stove, with which everybody practised. Primus stoves
are excellent when they are carefully treated, but are kittle cattle
unless everything goes quite as it should, and are apt to blow up.
Longstaff suffered considerably on the reconnaissance, and was brought
down not too fit. We also had a real set-back—our ninety coolies did not
eventuate, only forty-five appearing, and these coolies only worked for
about two days, when they said that their food was exhausted and they
must go down for more. We took the best guarantee we could for their
return by keeping back half their pay. They went for more food, but
found it in their houses and stopped there; we never saw them again.
However, it is not to be wondered at. If ploughing in the upper valleys
is to be done at all, it is to be done in May. They were, therefore,
very anxious to get back to their homes. Ninety men is a big toll for
these valleys to supply, but their behaviour left us rather dispirited.
We had to turn every one on to work, and then we had to make every
possible exertion to collect further coolies from the different
villages. The Chongay La who came with us, and who understood our needs,
was frantic, but said he could do nothing. However, we persuaded him to
do something, at any rate, and further offered very high prices to all
the men who had come. He certainly played up and did his very best. Men
came up in driblets, or rather men, women, and children came, as every
one in this country can carry loads, and they seem to be quite
unaffected by sleeping out under rocks at 16,000 or 17,000 feet.
For the whole time we remained at the Rongbuk Base Camp the equipping
and supply of our first and second camps up the East Rongbuk was mostly
carried out by local coolies, and the supply of these was very difficult
to assure. We never knew whether we should have three or four men
working, or thirty; they came up for different periods, so that we would
often have a dozen men coming down and four or five going up, and in
order to keep their complete confidence, they were received and paid
personally by myself or the transport officers. By degrees their
confidence was restored, and a very fair stream of porters arrived. Not
only that, but many of the men’s own relations came over from
Sola-Khombu, which is a great Sherpa Settlement at the head of the Dudh
Kosi Valley in Nepal. To reach us they had to cross the Ngangba La,
sometimes called the Khombu La, which is 19,000 feet in height. Often
the men’s relations came and were willing to carry a load or two and
then go off again. The mothers often brought their children, even of
less than a year old, who did not apparently suffer. It is evidently a
case of the survival of the fittest.
[Illustration:
CAMP II. AT SUNSET.
]
We had brought also large stores of rice, sugar, tea, and wheat grain,
both for the use of the officers of the Expedition and of the porters,
for fear we should run short of grain, and this proved a great stand-by.
The very rough tzampa of Tibet is often upsetting even to those most
accustomed to it. It was found to be an excellent policy to feed our
porters on the good grain when they came down to the Base Camp, and to
use the tzampa, which is cooked and ready for eating, at the upper
camps. Meat also had to be bought low down, sheep killed low down in the
valleys, and brought up for the use of the officers and men, and often
fresh yak meat for the porters. The Gurkhas got the fresh mutton. Dried
meat was brought up in large quantities for the porters, and proved of
the greatest use.
On the return, having received a full report from the reconnaissance
party, we tackled in earnest the establishment of the different camps.
Camp III, which was under the North Col, was first established in full.
This was to be our advance base of operations; and Mallory and Somervell
established themselves there, their business being to make the road to
the North Col while the rest of the Expedition was being pushed up to
join them. On May 13, Mallory, Somervell, and one coolie, together with
a tent, reached the North Col and planted the tent there.
This must be described as the beginning of the great offensive of May,
1922. Owing to the lack of coolies, all our officers and men had been
working at the highest possible speed, pushing forward the necessary
stores, camp equipage, and fuel to Camps I and II, and from thence
moving on to Camp III, Gurkhas being planted at each stage, whose
business it was to take the convoys to and fro. Finally, Camps I, II,
and III were each provided with an independent cook.
The duties of the cook at Camp III were the duties of an ordinary cook
in camp; those of the cooks at Camps I and II were to provide all
officers passing through or staying there with meals as they were
required, and right well all these three men carried out their duties.
The distance from the Base Camp to the advance base at Camp III was
fairly evenly divided, Camp I being at about three hours’ journey for a
laden animal at a height of 17,800 feet; Camp II a further four hours up
the glaciers at a height of 19,800 feet, and directly below the lesser
peak which terminates the Northern ridge of Everest; Camp III on moraine
at the edge of the open glacier below the Chang La, at a height of
21,000 feet, about four hours again beyond Camp II.
As our supply of Tibetan coolies improved, and as the main bulk of the
necessary supplies was put into Camp III, and the oxygen and its
complete outfit had been deposited in this camp, the hard work of
supplying rations and fuel to Camps I and II was entirely in the hands
of the local Tibetans. From Camp II to Camp III one encounters real
mountaineering conditions, as crevassed glaciers have to be crossed,
requiring in places considerable care. The road from the Base Camp to
Camp II, rough enough in all conscience, was such as could very easily
be negotiated by mountain people.
On May 14, Strutt, Morshead, and Norton left to join the advance party
at Camp III. The weather was even worse than before, the wind blowing a
perfect hurricane during the daytime, and the thermometer sinking to
zero even in the Base Camp. I asked the Chongay La why it should be that
as summer was approaching the weather should be continuously worse. He
accounted for this without any difficulty. He said in the middle of the
month, each month, in fact, at the Rongbuk Monastery there were special
services held. These services invariably irritated the demons on the
mountains, and they attempted to put a stop to them by roaring more than
usually loud. As soon as the services stopped, these winds would stop
too. The services stopped on May 17, and the Chongay La said we could
expect better weather on that date.
On May 16 the last of the oxygen, with Finch, left for the upper camps,
and it is a curious thing that about that time the weather did slightly
improve. On May 20, I received a letter from Strutt telling me of the
establishment of the camp on the North Col; he himself also accompanied
the party that reached the North Col. Here they made a very considerable
encampment, and put in it such light stores and cooking apparatus as
would be available for parties stopping there and attacking the mountain
from that spot. It is very curious how on this Expedition the standard
of what we expected from all our members went up. It was looked upon as
a foregone conclusion that any member of the party could walk with
comfort to the North Col (23,000 feet). It is quite right, no doubt,
that the standard should have been set so high; but it is a little
amazing, when one comes to think, that only on one occasion before has a
night been spent as high as 23,000 feet, and that on very, very few
occasions has this height been even attained. Strutt was quite by way of
looking upon himself as a worn-out old gentleman because he felt tired
at 23,000 feet. No doubt that is the standard we should set for
ourselves; but even 23,000 feet is a tremendous undertaking, and no one
at any time or at any age of life need be anything but pleased with
himself if he can get there.
The party established at Camp III made little expeditions to the Lhakpa
La and Ra-piu-la, and obtained a fine view of Makalu and the Northern
face of Everest; but the views so obtained also gave them a sight of the
approaching monsoon, and this made every one very nervous about the
length of time there was left to us for our actual attack on the
mountain. It was this very point, including also the evidence of rough
and uncertain weather which had been experienced round the mountain
itself, that decided Strutt to allow four members to make an attempt on
the mountain without oxygen. Certain defects had been found in the
oxygen apparatus, and Finch was employed in rectifying these
difficulties, and at the same time he was not quite ready to proceed
further. Geoffrey Bruce was also working with him at Camp III, and made
great progress in the use of the oxygen. They also roped in as their
assistant the Gurkha Tejbir, having for him a special rôle.
It is not for me to describe in detail the great attempt on the mountain
made by the party consisting of Mallory, Somervell, Morshead, and
Norton, but I must point out quite clearly that as a _tour de force_
alone it stands, in my opinion, by itself. It was the most terrific
exertion, carried out during unfavourable weather and in the face of
that dreadful West wind. Not only did they reach the prodigious height
of 26,985 feet without the assistance of oxygen, but they passed a night
at 25,000 feet.
I think it is pretty clear from their accounts that any further
expedition must be clothed in windproof suitings, and these of the
lightest, when attacking Everest, or probably any other great mountain
in this particular part of the world. Morshead, who suffered far more
than any of the others from the cold, did not employ his windproof
suiting in the early part of the climb, and I believe by this omission
he very greatly decreased his vitality, and it was probably this
decrease which was the reason of his terrible frostbites.
It was a tremendous effort, unparalleled in the history of mountain
exploration, but it gave immense confidence to all that the mountain was
not unconquerable. If on the first occasion such a gigantic height could
be reached, we were pretty certain that later, with the experience so
gained, and with the weather in the climbers’ favour instead of the
horrible conditions under which this climb was undertaken, the mountain
would in time yield to assault.
The following day, notwithstanding their fatigue, they determined to get
down to Camp I. They certainly were a sight on arrival; I have never
seen such a crowd of swollen and blistered and weary mountaineers
before, but they were all naturally tremendously elated with their
performance. Strutt came down with them, and quite rightly too; he had
been a very long time living above 21,000 feet, and this in itself is a
great strain. I thoroughly endorse his judgment in making this great
attempt without oxygen. At first sight it would seem that it was not
wise to send so many of the best climbers at once on to the mountain
before the oxygen apparatus was ready, but he felt (and I consider he
was quite right) that as the weather was so bad and the monsoon was
evidently arriving before its time, and as at the moment the oxygen
apparatus was in such a doubtful condition, it was far better to make an
attempt than possibly to fail in making any attempt at all.
[Illustration:
MOUNT EVEREST FROM CAMP III.
]
During the time that the great attempt on the mountain without oxygen
was being made, Finch was employed in getting the oxygen apparatus into
order. It had suffered in a good many ways, and the method of inhaling
the oxygen appeared to be deficient, the face-masks, in fact, causing a
feeling of suffocation and not allowing a sufficiency of ordinary air to
be inhaled. Finch had a very difficult time getting all this apparatus
into order in this very high camp. It would have been difficult
anywhere, but up here in the great cold and the great height it was
infinitely more troublesome. As soon as the apparatus was in working
order, they made numerous training walks up on to the passes, looking
down into the heart of the Kharta Valley, from where they were able to
see the Southern faces of the Himalaya and to know the way in which the
clouds were pushing up from the South.
They had also instructed, to a certain extent, the Gurkha Tejbir Bura in
the use of oxygen, as they intended him to help them in their advance on
the mountain.
About the time the other party left for the Base Camp, Finch and
Geoffrey Bruce set off for the camp on the Chang La, Camp IV, taking
with them twelve laden coolies to carry their outfit. I will not attempt
to describe their subsequent mountaineering operations in detail, as
these must be left to Finch’s narrative in a subsequent chapter, but
there are a great many points to which attention might be drawn. First,
although Geoffrey Bruce is thoroughly accustomed to work on the
hillside, he had never before this big attempt, and before the few
practice walks that he had with Finch, attempted a snow mountain in his
life; the nearest thing he had been to it was following game in Kashmir.
It was, therefore, for him a very great test. The same also applies to
the Gurkha; although he is a born mountain man and has hardly been off
the hillside the whole of his life, up to the time of the climb he knew
nothing about snow and ice as understood by a Swiss mountaineer.
However, they had a first-rate leader, and his trust in them proved
anything but ill-placed.
Owing to a terrific gale, they had to spend two nights at 25,500 feet.
They were all short of food, and no doubt greatly exhausted, and I think
they would have been perfectly justified, after two nights spent at this
tremendous altitude, if they had given up their attempt and returned,
but they had too much grit for that. Here should have come in the use of
Tejbir if he had been quite himself. He was given extra oxygen to carry,
and their intention was that, after proceeding as far as the ridge, he
should be sent back to their camp to wait their descent. However, Tejbir
was completely played out when he had reached 26,000 feet.
The party continued until they reached a point which has been found to
work out at 27,235 feet. Here Geoffrey had an accident to his oxygen
apparatus, and, far from becoming immediately unconscious (as we had
been warned would be the case before we left England if climbers were
suddenly deprived of their artificial oxygen supply), he was able to
attach himself to Finch’s instrument while Finch was repairing the
damaged apparatus. Slightly higher than this point they were completely
exhausted, and had to beat a retreat, the whole party finally descending
to the North Col, where food was found ready for them, and by the
evening got down to Camp III itself—a great performance, considering the
altitude and that the descent was over 6,000 feet. I think it is pretty
certain that Tejbir’s breakdown was largely due to his not having a
windproof suit. This biting West wind goes through wool as if it was
paper, and he was exposed to it for a great period of time, and no doubt
it very largely sapped his vitality.
One result of this last attempt is that it increases our hopes, almost
to the point of certainty, that, with luck and good weather, and when
the oxygen apparatus has been further improved, the summit of Everest
will be attained.
All the time the porters were working from our Base Camp and up there
was great competition between them, and also considerable betting as to
who would do the hardest work—the true Tibetan-born porters or the
Sherpas from the South. It was rather amusing to see the superior airs
which the Sherpas invariably gave themselves in travelling through
Tibet. They considered Tibetans undoubtedly jăngli,[4] and treated them
very much from the point of view that a clever Londoner does the
simplest form of yokel when he appears in London. At any rate, they
backed themselves heavily to beat the Tibetans. It was a pretty good
race, but finally they came out well on top; in fact, I think all but
one who reached 25,000 feet and over were Sherpas. Paul, the
interpreter, and Gyaljen, had a great bet also about the officers, Paul
favouring Finch and Gyaljen Mallory. As a matter of fact, there was
quite a little book made among all the followers with regard to who
would go highest among the officers. I did not even belong to the “also
rans” between them. Oxygen was looked upon as a matter of no particular
importance, and I believe Paul made Gyaljen pay up, as he had won with
Finch against Mallory.
Footnote 4:
Wild.
On May 27 we welcomed the arrival of John Macdonald with a further
supply of money, as, owing to the large calls of our enormous transport,
we had been afraid of running short. This was very cheering to us
indeed, and also a very great help, for, besides the money, Mr.
Macdonald brought with him two or three servants very well accustomed to
travel in Tibet and knowing all the people of the country. These we were
able to use as special messengers, and we sent off immediately by them
an account of the climbs that had occurred. The second of them was
unfortunately delayed by illness, and this accounted for the slight
delay in letting the world know of our great second “oxygen” climb. The
first messenger rode through in ten days from Rongbuk to Phari, and by
so doing almost caught up the previous letters which had been despatched
through the Dzongpens. Arrangements are, after all, not so bad in Tibet.
When one considers that Tibetans themselves have no understanding or
care for time, the promptness with which the different communications
were sent through was rather wonderful. There were, on occasions, no
doubt, hitches, but, generally speaking, the postal arrangements worked
very well.
The weather had become more and more threatening, but we could not bring
ourselves absolutely to give up for this year the attempts on Everest;
at the same time, the casualties were heavy. Our medical members had all
got to work and had tested thoroughly each member of the Expedition that
had been employed. It was evidently absolutely necessary that Morshead
should return as quickly as possible into hospital in India, and there
were also several other members who were suffering from their hard work.
Longstaff had “shot his bolt” as far as this year’s work was concerned,
and it was also most important that Morshead should have a doctor with
him. Strutt, too, was very much overdone, and it was time for him to
return. Norton was strained and tired, and Geoffrey’s toes, though not
so bad as Morshead’s, required that he should quickly go down to a
warmer climate. We therefore made up two convoys, which were to start
together from the Base Camp. Longstaff, Strutt, and Morshead to go with
the sardar Gyaljen direct to Darjeeling, travelling viâ Khamba Dzong,
and from Khamba Dzong directly South to Lachen and Gangtok and
Darjeeling by the shorter and quicker route. This would bring them quite
a week sooner to Darjeeling than the route by which we entered Tibet. It
was most important that Morshead should be got back as quickly as
possible; in fact, we were all very nervous about his condition, and we
were afraid that it might be necessary for some operation to be carried
out actually on the march.
It had always been our idea that as soon as we had finished with our
summer attack on Everest, the whole Expedition should go into the Kharta
Valley, where Colonel Howard-Bury in 1921 made his camps, and there
recover from our labours. The Kharta Valley is far lower than any other
district in this part of Tibet, lying between 11,000 and 12,000 feet
above sea-level; there are also many comforts which do not exist in
other parts. There is good cultivation, trees and grass to a certain
extent, and even some vegetables are obtainable. It is altogether a
charming spot—very charming compared with any other country we were
likely to see. The road was very high for sick men, as it led over the
Doya La, which is only 3 feet under 17,000 feet, but having once got
there, they would be in comfort compared with the Rongbuk Glacier.
Having decided on sending off this large convoy of invalids and
semi-invalids, we then began to organise our third attempt on Everest,
but so doubtful was the weather that the party was organised for two
complete purposes. It was fully provided with porters, far more than
would in the ordinary way be necessary for an attempt on the mountain
itself, considering that the camps were all fully provisioned. We had
brought every single man off the glacier after the last attempt in order
to give them all a complete rest. Every one had now had a long rest,
with the exception of Finch, who had only had five days. He, however,
was very keen to join the party.
The second rôle of this party was to evacuate as many camps as possible,
according to the condition of the weather, and it was carefully
explained to them that if in their opinion the weather was such as to
preclude an attempt on the mountain, they were to use the greatest
possible care and run no undue risks. It was organised as follows: The
climbing party to consist of Finch, Mallory, and Somervell; the
backing-up party, Crawford and Wakefield, to remain at Camp III; and
Morris, in whose charge the whole of the transport arrangements were,
was to take charge of the evacuation of camps either after the attempt
had been made, or if no attempt was made, immediately. Such was the
condition of the weather that I had no very great hope that even the
Chang La camp could be evacuated, but it was most necessary to recover
all stores left at the great depôt at Camp III. This was of the utmost
importance, as not only was the oxygen apparatus there, but also a great
number of surplus stores—stores which we should be in need of. We had,
of course, rationed these camps with a view to staying there probably a
fortnight longer, but this year the monsoon had evidently advanced at
least ten days earlier than usual. That, however, we could not foresee,
nor could we foresee the very great severity of the 1922 monsoon of the
Eastern Himalaya. This we only heard about on our return to India later
on. It was a curious thing that the Rongbuk Lama had sent up to
congratulate the porters, and ourselves also, on having come back safely
from the earlier attempts, but he warned the porters to leave the
mountain alone, as he had had a vision of an accident.
On June 3 the great convoy set off and spent the night at Camp I. On
June 4 we were rather overwhelmed to see Finch staggering into camp. He
was very much overdone, and had by no means recovered from his terrific
exertions on the mountain. It was quite evident that he was finished for
this year, and he was lucky to be just in time to join the detachment
returning to India direct. It was a very great loss to the party. Not
only would he have been of special assistance as the oxygen expert, but
his experience and knowledge of snow and ice under the conditions then
prevailing would have been of the greatest advantage to the party.
The weather now had completely broken. It was snowing hard; even at our
Base Camp we had 2 inches of snow; the whole of the mountains were a
complete smother of snow. Notwithstanding this, and, under the
conditions, quite rightly, the convoy pushed on to Camp III. On arrival
at Camp III the weather cleared. The wind temporarily went round to the
West, and one perfect day of rest and sunshine was enjoyed.
Morris all this time was on the line of communication. He had the whole
of the service of evacuation to arrange, and was laying out his convoys
of Tibetan coolies and others with that point of view in his mind. It
was lucky he did so. The great foe, generally speaking, on Everest
during the dry period is the horrible West wind, but now the monsoon had
to all intents and purposes arrived. The West wind now was our one and
only friend. If it would again blow for a short period, the mountain
would probably return temporarily to a fairly safe condition. The South
wind is a warm and wet, though fairly strong, current, but the result of
even a short visit from it absolutely ruins the mountain-side. However,
at Camp III they enjoyed one full day of sunshine, followed by a very
low temperature (12° below zero) the following night, and it was
considered, owing both to the strength of the sun and to the fact that
the West wind had temporarily got the better of the South wind, that the
mountain would in all probability be safely solidified so as to render
an attempt justifiable. Therefore on the morning of June 7 a start was
made to reach the North Col, with the object of spending a night there
and making an assault on the mountain the following day. It was also
proposed to carry up as much oxygen as possible to the greatest height
they could get the porters to go, and from that point only to use the
remaining oxygen to make a push over the summit. I think this was a
thoroughly sound proposition. They were all acclimatised, and it seems
to me that it is probably better, especially if there is any chance of a
shortage of oxygen, to use one’s acclimatisation to go as high as one
can without undue fatigue, and from thence on to use the oxygen. No
doubt it would be possible and of advantage, if the oxygen apparatus
should ever be improved, to use it for the whole of an ascent, say, from
20,000 feet or so, but against that comes the chance that, in case of
any cessation of the oxygen supply, the danger would be very much
greater.
The caravan consisted of Mallory, Somervell, and Crawford, who was going
with them as far as the North Col to assist them and to relieve them of
the hard labour of remaking the path up to that point. Mallory will
relate further on how at about one o’clock, when about half the journey
had been completed, the snow suddenly cracked across and gave way, and
the whole caravan was swept down the hillside, and seven porters killed.
On return to Camp III, a porter was despatched to take the news down to
the Base Camp, and arrived that same night at about nine o’clock, having
travelled at full speed—really a wonderful performance. There was
nothing to be done—that was quite evident—and all I could do was to
await the return of the party for a full account, sending news at the
same time to Morris to evacuate the camps at the greatest possible
speed. Mallory arrived by himself, very tired, and naturally very upset,
on Thursday, the 8th. Again was shown what a terrible enemy the great
Himalaya is. Risks and conditions which would appear justifiable in the
Alps can never be taken in the Himalaya. So great is the scale that far
greater time must be allowed for the restoration of safe conditions.
When once the condition of a mountain is spoiled, the greater size
requires more time for its readjustment. The odds against one are much
greater in the Himalaya than in the smaller ranges. Its sun is hotter;
its storms are worse; the distances are greater; everything is on an
exaggerated scale.
Mallory was followed next morning by Wakefield, Crawford, and Somervell,
who brought down with them a certain amount of the lighter equipment.
Morris was all this time working to salvage as much as he possibly could
from the different camps. We had a large number of Tibetans pushed up as
far as Camp II, and as many of our own porters as were available (not
very many, I am sorry to say, by now) working with Morris in the
evacuation of Camp III. In this work the cooks and orderlies also
joined.
It was perfectly evident by now that the monsoon had set in in full
force. On his return, Morris gave me a very vivid description of how,
even during the one day that he stayed up after the others had left at
Camp III, although the weather was fairly fine, the whole face of the
mountain sides began to change; how under the influence of the soft
South wind the mountains seemed to melt and disintegrate. Not only that,
but even the great teeth formed by the pressure of the collateral
glaciers, probably great séracs that spring out like the teeth of a huge
saw on the glacier, and which seemed solid enough to last for all time,
were visibly crumbling up, and some of them were even toppling over. The
great trough of black ice up the centre of the glacier which Strutt has
described had turned into a rushing torrent—and all this in an
incredibly short period of time. Snow also fell at intervals, and it was
quite apparent that when the monsoon settled down the whole of Camp III
would be under a great blanket of fresh snow. Under these conditions a
good deal of stuff, especially the supplies of grain, tzampa, and so on,
for our porters, had to be abandoned. As for Camps IV, V, and VI, there
was naturally no chance of rescuing anything from them. Thus was
occasioned a fairly large loss of outfit; nor was there any possibility
that any of it could have stood under any conditions more than a month’s
exposure to the weather. There was a considerable loss in the oxygen
apparatus, but Morris managed to bring down three full outfits in more
or less dilapidated condition.
On Morris’s return to the Base Camp, the party was completed. One of the
difficulties in having so large an outfit as ours was the difficulty of
obtaining transport when necessary. Therefore, as soon as we saw signs
of the monsoon, it was necessary to make arrangements for our return, as
at least fifteen days were required to collect the still large number of
animals required for our moving. These animals have to be searched for
all down the Dzakar Chu, collected, and brought up; nor when once
collected could they be kept waiting for very long, as the supply of
fodder in the upper valley was absolutely nil—fodder did not exist. When
we sent off the previous party they travelled as lightly as possible,
but even then the small number of animals which was required for their
transport had not been obtained with any great ease. Fortunately, John
Macdonald was with us and was free, and it was owing to his help (for he
speaks Tibetan as well as Nepali, and is thoroughly accustomed to deal
with the people) that the two parties of Strutt and Norton were able to
proceed with such little delay. It had required a full fifteen days to
collect enough animals to move the main body. I had arranged for a
latitude of one or two days, which meant that they should have spare
food up to that extent, but beyond that it would be quite impossible,
naturally, to make provision. Of course, as one of our secondary objects
we had hoped, if our party had not been exhausted, to have explored the
West Rongbuk and the great glens on the Western faces of Everest. And
besides this most interesting piece of exploration, of which really not
very much more than glimpses were obtained during 1921, there is the
prodigious and fascinating group of Cho Uyo and Gyachang Kang to be
explored.
[Illustration:
WATCHING THE DANCERS, RONGBUK MONASTERY.
]
As I before pointed out, of course, not only was our major work and the
whole object of the Expedition the tackling of the great mountain, but
also it was a race against the weather, so we could let nothing
interfere with our main object. It was quite clear now, as we were
situated, that an exploration of the West Rongbuk was entirely beyond
consideration. Not only was the whole party fairly played out, but to
get up enthusiasm in a new direction after what we had gone through was
pretty nearly out of the question. Somervell, the absolutely untireable,
had very strong yearnings in that direction, but it would have been
nothing more than a scramble in the dark if he had gone. The weather was
broken and was getting worse and worse every day. Snow fell occasionally
even at our camp. Further up everything was getting smothered. Everest,
when we had glimpses of it, was a smother of snow from head to foot, and
no one who saw it in these days could ever imagine that it was a rock
peak.
I am afraid also that most of us had only one real idea at the time, and
that was to get out of the Rongbuk Valley. However, during our wait for
the transport the annual fête of the Rongbuk Monastery occurred. There
was a great pilgrimage to the monastery to receive the blessing of the
Lama and to witness the annual dances. Most of our party went down to
see dances, and Noel especially to cinematograph the whole ceremony,
dances as well as religious ceremonies. I have not done justice up to
this point to Noel’s work. He was quite indefatigable from the start,
and had lost no opportunity during our march up, not only of taking many
pictures of the country and Expedition, both with his ordinary camera
and with his cinema camera, but of studying Tibetan life as well. He had
in the Rongbuk Valley pitched his developing tents near the only
available clear water at the moment, and had there been untiring in
developing his cinema photographs. He had made two expeditions to the
head of the East Rongbuk Glacier, and had even taken his cameras and his
cinema outfit on to the North Col itself where he remained for no less
than four days—a most remarkable _tour de force_. On the last occasion
he had accompanied the evacuation party, and had been actually taking
pictures of the start of the last attempt to get to the North Col and to
climb Everest. Of course, his performances with the camera are entirely
unprecedented. The amount of work he carried out was prodigious, and the
enthusiasm he displayed under the most trying conditions of wind and
weather was quite wonderful. We now feel that we can produce a real
representation of our life and of life in Tibet in a manner in which it
has never hitherto been brought before people’s eyes, and this gives a
reality to the whole Expedition which I hope will make all those who are
interested in mountain exploration understand the wonderful performances
and the great difficulties under which the climbing members of this
Expedition and the transport officers laboured.
After the news of the accident had been received, we immediately got in
touch with the great Lama of Rongbuk, who was intensely sympathetic and
kind over the whole matter. It is very strange to have to deal with
these curious people; they are an extraordinary mixture of superstition
and nice feelings. Buddhist services were held in the monasteries for
the men who had been lost and for the families; and all the porters, and
especially the relations of the men who were killed, were received and
specially blessed by the Rongbuk Lama himself. All the Nepalese tribes
who live high up in the mountains, and also the Sherpa Bhotias, have a
belief that when a man slips on the mountains and is killed, or when he
slips on a cliff above a river and falls into it and is drowned, that
this is a sacrifice to God, and especially to the god of the actual
mountain or river. They further believe that anyone whosoever who
happens to be on the same cliff or on the same mountain at the same
place, exactly at the same time of year, on the same date and at the
same hour, will also immediately slip and be killed.
I also received during our return a very kind letter from the Maharajah
of Nepal condoling with us on the loss of our porters. He writes as
follows:—
“Personally, and as a member of the Royal Geographical Society, I share
with you the grief that must have resulted from the frustration of the
keen hope entertained by you and the party. My heartiest sympathies go
to you and to the families of the seven men who lost their lives in the
attempt. This puts in my mind the curious belief that persistently
prevails with the people here, and which I came to learn so long ago in
the time of our mutual friend, Colonel Manners Smith, when the question
of giving permission for the project of climbing the King of Heights
through Nepal was brought by you and discussed in a council of
Bharadars. It is to the effect that the height is the abode of the god
and goddess Shiva and Parvati, and any attempt to invade the privacy of
it would be a sacrilege fraught with disastrous consequences to this
Hindu country and its people, and this belief or superstition, as one
may choose to call it, is so firm and strong that people attribute the
present tragic occurrence to the divine wrath which on no occasion they
would draw on their heads by their actions.”
This, I must point out, is, of course, the Southern and Hindu people’s
tradition, and did not in the same way affect all the porters whom we
employed, as they were Buddhists by faith. The whole of our people,
however, took the view common to both and dismissed their troubles very
rapidly and very lightly, holding simply that the men’s time had come,
and so there was no more to be said about it. If their time had not
come, they would not have died. It had come, and they had died and that
was all. What need to say any more? As a matter of fact, this
philosophic way of looking on everything also allowed them to say that
they were perfectly ready to come back for the next attempt, because if
it was written that they should die on Everest, they should die on
Everest; if it was written that they would not die on Everest, they
would not, and that was all there was to be said in the matter.
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