High Adventure

by Timothy Smith

It was with pleasure as well as with a sense of privilege that I agreed to lead a small expedition which went to seek out the world’s highest mountain. The difficulties were many; they were however overcome by the determination of each member of our party. No praise is too high for our team who can now number themselves amonst those who had trod the ultimate heights, invaded nature’s last stronghold and yet returned to tell the tale!

To gain access to the Icefield Ranges is one thing, to explore the higher reaches of the Himalaya is, as Hamish once said, quite another.

I would like at the outset to record my appreciation of the selfless devotion and sound judgement with which Col. James Roberts and Miss Hawley organised everything on our behalf and thus paved the way for our success, although this was in a way due to three things. Their foresight and planning, the helpful advice of several members of our club and the splendid efforts of our porters, without whom the expedition would have failed.

The voyage out was uneventful, we stopped for tea in Athens, had dinner in Teheran, breakfast in Delhi and were in Kathmandu in time for lunch. Here we were met by Miss Hawley who introduced us to Dawa Tenzing, our Sirdar, a patriarchal figure of indeterminate age, exuding personality and alcoholic fumes. He was with General Bruce on Everest and has played some major role in almost every expedition since then. The old man is deeply devout; he has already given two of his daughters to a nunnery and most of his property to the Monastery of Thyangboche. He was described by the 1952 Swiss Expedition as “King of the Sherpas” though we felt that “Dictator” would suit him better; as benign as he is wise he can be something of a terror when his authority is even remotely questioned. Dawa has known tragedy; in 1957 his eldest son was killed on the Y.R.C. Expedition to the Jugal Himal^[1] and his wife, led to believe that he too had perished, on Everest, was so overcome with grief that she flung herself into the river; Dawa returned to bear a double loss.

On 26 November 1967 we hired a light aircraft, thus saving the arduous seven day trek through the foothills to Jiri, a Swiss agricultural station. Here we were greeted by a deafening cheer from our porters: friendliness is one of their outstanding characteristics. One could not help but compare this welcome with the rather dour reception accorded us by the Swiss who could not have cared less about our presence.

From this point we set out on foot and I was gratified to see that esprit-de-corps, so important on expeditions such as ours, was uniting our party into a closely knit community. The importance of team spirit cannot be over estimated; Hamish once said that when you are swinging helplessly at the end of a hundred and twenty feet of rope it is a good thing to know that the man at the other end is a friend. It was this spirit more than any other single factor which brought success.

Our first day was agony, it seemed never to end; we were to make our camp that night by a river and after climbing a low pass it was obviously the one below us, and far enough at that. How quickly we were disillusioned: Dawa, now driving his porters at an even greater speed, told us that tonight’s camp was beyond that ridge up there in the clouds, “Not a bad day” he said, “tomorrow is a real bugger”. The vastness, the silence, the beauty of the terraced fields on the limbs of the mountains, the trees wearing orchids, the blossom, the flowers, the prayer flags fluttering beside cairns of stones: we had already fallen for the magic of Nepal.

On and on through jungle we forced our way towards our goal, over bare wind-swept ridges, across raging torrents spanned by a single log or a chain bridge fashioned by the local blacksmith. We were beginning to suffer visions of chilled beer, feather beds and warm baths when all of a sudden we came across an enterprising character who had set up a stall to sell chang, a fiery local brew. I sent up a fervent prayer that I for one would not be found wanting in the ordeal that lay before us. Several hours later we turned away with thick heads and made our way through the gathering darkness to our halting place in the valley.

Two days later we crossed the 11,700 ft. Lamjura Pass. Our porters, many of them barefoot, gallantly trudged through the snow hour after hour. As we stood on the summit of the pass we were humbled by the magnitude of the task we had set ourselves; in such moments a man feels very close to the immensity of Nature. There we stood until the sun set and the mountains became a vision such as few human eyes have beheld.

It was our usual practice to hold a medical parade for our porters at sundown and that evening we had a ghastly shock when one of the men appeared with scarlet feet: was this one of the symptoms of some dreaded fever? After a brandy we were able to collect our thoughts and to discover that he had in fact been wearing red socks whilst wading through the snow; really it was only a blister that he wanted lancing. The same evening we were nobly entertained in a Sherpa house, a never-to-be-forgotten experience. An ancient crone offered me a bowl overflowing with thick greasy Tibetan tea, “You know my son” she cackled “he tells me you are his Sahib, greetings”. I hesitated a moment, especially since Sherpa custom demands the draining of the cup three times. Boiled potatoes were handed round and a large quantity of rakshi was consumed, this at high altitude has the desired effect without a great deal of perseverance. We all enjoyed a splendid evening.

For several days we crossed the rugged terrain towards Everest till eventually we descended into the gorge of the foaming Dudh Kosi. We went down through a forest of oak, pine and rhododendron; the sun burst in a million golden splinters through the trees and Khumbila (18,901 ft.), a vast tower of snow-veined rock framed in foliage, grew mightier as we slipped and slithered our way to the floor of the valley. We crossed and recrossed the mighty gorge on bridges built by Sir Edmund Hillary, then we started the steep ascent to Namche Bazar; it was at this point that I began to appreciate all I had read about the rigours of high altitude climbing. As we drew near to the col we got our first glimpse of Everest, rearing its majestic head against the cloudless sky; it was as if a supreme artist had touched the snowfields with a rose tinted brush.

At Namche Bazar, a squalid and austere village, was the military check post where we had our visas stamped. On enquiry we were relieved to learn that our flight out from Lukla three weeks later had been confirmed, so all was fine. Although it was late in the day we decided to push on to Khumjung where we were welcomed at the gateway with scarves and pots of chang, which seemed always to flow at the slightest provocation.

Pemba Norbu took us round to his house; like all Sherpa houses this was made from stone and rammed earth with a rock and shingle roof, the ground floor, used for storing firewood, fodder and other things, is also where the livestock live. Never wander into a Sherpa house without a light; if you are not eaten at the door by a ferocious Tibetan mastiff you are apt to fall over a sheep or be butted by a yak on the way to the stairs which consist of a notched log, a death trap at night. Upstairs a large room stretches the full length of the house, the focal point being the open hearth at the top of the stairway; here too is the master bed piled with gay Tibetan rugs where the women tend their children and cook and the men of the house entertain and drink, one’s importance being measured by how close to the fire one sits. The house was full of smoke as there was no chimney and it seemed the whole village had crowded in to meet us—what a memorable welcome!

Next day we set out for Thyangboche and on the way passed many chortens and prayer walls which necessitated our branching off to the left to pass them on the correct side; on one occasion I came face to face with a yak, so decided not to carry local customs to extremes. As we slowly wound our way up the zig-zag track we feasted our eyes upon the magnificent views, crowned by the graceful Monastery itself nestling on the Col: surely the most beautiful place on earth.

What surroundings! The pyramid of Everest, thrusting up above the high and dazzling Nuptse Lhotse Ridge at the head of the valley, seemed only an arms stretch away. Kangtega (21,932 ft.) and Thamserku (21,680 ft.) to the south east looked so close that one could almost feel them while to the north loomed Taweche (20,889 ft.), which still defies climbers; and there, right above us was the unyielding rock pinnacle of Ama Dablam (22,493 ft.) reaching for the sky. We rested two days here as the guests of the Head Lama.

We were now at over 13,000 feet and for the next portion of our journey we wound our way along the steep sides of the gorge, quite exposed in places. We passed through Pangboche which was almost deserted, but needless to say our porters somehow found a chang party which inevitably delayed our progress up the valley; we did not really mind as we knew that this was one of the last outposts of civilisation. We sent on the porters and our Sherpa cook to prepare the camp site at Lobujya and we set off with Pemba Norbu and Dawa Tenzing on one of our side trips which became a familiar feature of our trek. On this occasion we struggled up a steep ridge leading on to Pokalde (19,049 ft.), every step seemed an effort and I wondered how I would make it higher up as we were only just above 16,000 ft. Fortunately we came across an unexpected valley edged by precipitous peaks and we had no alternative but to descend to Lingtren. It had proved a long hard drag for our unacclimatised bodies. After a long rest we set off to cross the Khumbu Glacier and we quickly learnt the meaning of glacier fatigue; crevasses wound their way in all directions and moraines were never ending. Fortunately the weather was fine and we eventually reached Lobujya. A comfortable camp had been established and there was plenty of sleeping accommodation for our porters. A welcome meal had been prepared for us and we were thankful to be able to crawl straight into our sleeping bags as the intense cold and high altitude had made us very tired. It was in fact our usual practice to have a meal about 5.30 in the evening and after this there was little to do but to retire to our sleeping bags for some thirteen hours. I came to realise that in the books I had read in the past not much was said about the discomforts of day to day living.

It was only a morning’s walk to our next camp at Gorak Shep but we had to take it slowly as we were rapidly gaining height and were now well over 17,000 feet. The path eventually faded out as we slipped and slithered across the huge moraines of a tributary glacier: and there at last was the little lake beside which we wanted to set up our base camp. We had made it! We were at nearly 18,000 feet on the slopes of Mount Everest, our ambition achieved; a day I shall never forget, and the sky such a deep blue that it was as if we had landed on another planet.

It was from the upper reaches of Pumori (23,442 ft.) that Sir Edmund Hillary and Eric Shipton had their first glimpse into the Western Cwm and so discovered the route which led ultimately to the first successful ascent of Mount Everest. Our main aim was to carry out a similar reconnaissance and this was the highlight of our trek. So it was upwards from Base Camp that we painfully trudged, but soon the high altitude began to affect our muscles and our bodies seemed to deteriorate. Hamish, negotiating a steep rib of ice, discovered that light weight crampons were made for birds, at least that is what I thought he murmured as he plunged past. It was at a point just over 20,000 feet that we were forced to retreat.

The view was breath-taking, the wilderness of mountains around us was a symphony of modulated shadow, only Everest itself stood in the sunshine, its great pyramid framed against a turquoise sky. To the left Pumori towered above, inhospitable and awe-inspiring, to the right soared the great shoulder of Everest, bleak in the evening light; below on the glacier Base Camp was a row of dots.

It had been a great experience and I was sad to turn my back on the majestic stage where great dramas of suffering and triumph had been played in the past. No pen can fittingly describe our feelings as the evening sun sank below the horizon.

Appendix

The Travel Agent’s slogan read “Why not pack a suitcase and take off for Mount Everest?” Basically this is what we did.

The whole trip was organised for us by Lt. Col. James Roberts, whose address is Mountain Travel, P.O. Box 170, Kathmandu, Nepal. He supplied all the camping gear; this was ideal for trekking but would not have been fully adequate for a serious mountaineering expedition at high altitudes, though no doubt this could be arranged. It is most important that all equipment be carefully checked and examined by members of the expedition; this we omitted to do and to our horror discovered on arrival at Jiri that there was no tin-opener and no wick for the paraffin lantern. Later we learnt that the Primus Stove would not work; this meant that our porters had to make a three days’ walk to fetch wood. Sleeping bags can be provided but we took our own and were very thankful. We also took a full set of down clothing and could not have done without it.

Colonel Roberts arranged all the Sherpas and porters for us, a sirdar, a cook, a personal Sherpa for each member of the expedition and eight porters. He also laid on all the food, some of which we bought on the way; I would however suggest that a hamper from Fortnum and Mason would be greatly appreciated at high altitude, yak meat tends to get tedious, not to mention the appalling taste of Ghee — rancid butter.

We paid Colonel Roberts a fixed sum to cover the entire trip and by so doing we avoided having to fix rates for the porters which could have proved rather a tricky problem.

A visa is required to enter Nepal and can be obtained at the Royal Nepalese Embassy, 12a Kensington Palace Gardens, London, W.8. On arrival in Kathmandu a trekking permit must be obtained from the Ministry of Foreign Affairs (closed on Saturdays).

Innoculations needed are Smallpox, Cholera, Yellow Fever, Polio, Typhoid and Tetanus.

As a rough guide for anyone proposing to tackle such a trip, the return fare London/Kathmandu by air works out at about £300, the trek depending on the number of people in the party, at around £150 per person per month, or did so in 1967. Chartering a plane to fly in to Jiri and out from Lukla cost us £70: a scheduled flight was supposed to start in 1969 and could work out considerably cheaper. So, what with hotel bills and rakshi money it would not be difficult to get through £550 per person.

Itinerary

November

26.    Flew from Kathmandu to Jiri (approx ½ hour).
27.    Left Jiri 07.00 hours, arrived camp site just below col above Chyangma, 9,000 ft., 17.00 hours.
28.    Passed through Bhandar, crossed the Likhu Khola, after steep ascent camped at Sete, 8,400 ft., 16.15 hrs.
29.    Continued long ascent to Lamjura Pass, 11,700 ft., camped near first settlement over Col, 1545 hours.
30. Dropped down to Junbesi, skirted round to Ringmo, crossed Taksindhu Pass, 10,500 ft., camped below Monastery, 17.15 hours.

December

1.    Dropped to Dudh Kosi ascended to Khari Khola, 6,500 ft.
2.    Climbed steeply for several hours, crossed Pass, 10,000 ft., down to Puiyan, 9,500 ft., 15.45 hours.
3.    Traversed high above Dudh Kosi, dropped to Surkya, passed through Chauri Kharka, camped at Phakding, 8,500 ft. 16.45 hours.
4.    Passed through Benkar and Jorsale, ascended to Namche Bazar, first view of Mount Everest. Climbed over Col to Khumjung, 12,000 ft., 16.45 hours.
5.    Visited Dr. and Mrs. McKinnon at Khumde Hospital, then on to Thyangboche, received by Head Lama, given afternoon tea.
6.    At Thyangboche.
7.    Left Thangboche at 10.15 hours; entertained to lunch by Mrs. Tenzing at Deboche. On to Dingboche where we camped 14,000 ft. Fabulous view of Makalu 27,805 ft. from just above village.
8.    Climbed spur leading on to Pokalde, dropped to Lingtren, crossed Khumbu Glacier to Lobujya.
9.    To Gorak Shep where we set up Base Camp.
10.    Climbed a spur leading on to Pumori, approx. 20,000 ft.
11.    Visited various sites of Everest Base Camps and had a look at huge icefall flowing out of Western Cwm.
12.    Explored upper reaches of East Changri Glacier.
13.    Retraced steps to Lobujya.
14.    Down to Thukla, turned up Chola Khola as far as Dzongla.
15.    Visited the Chola Col, 18,635 ft.
16.    Climbed an unnamed peak north of Dzongla.
17.    Returned to Dingboche.
18.    Visited Ama Dablam Base Camp site, rebuilt memorial to Harris and Fraser, killed on mountain in 1959. Climbed Ambu Gyabjen, 18,637 ft.
19.    Went down to Deboche.
20.    Climbed Lura, 17,710 ft.
21.    Traversed to Phorcha on fantastic footpath, descended to Dudh Kosi, ascended steeply to Khumjung, a long day.
22.    Down to Namche Bazar and on to Phakding.
23.    Returned to Lukla for flight out.

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Footnote

In Autumn of 1968 Cook’s announced a package tour to Everest, Realizing that no one would be likely to want an indifferent and middle-aged mountaineer on a “real” expedition, and having anyway little time available for organisation or on the trip, I at once put down my name. It would be better to see and not to do than neither see nor do; and though no lover of crowds, I expected only pleasant people would wish to go. To my great pleasure Harry Stembridge joined me, and a year later (25th October 1969) we presented ourselves with 40 lbs. of personal kit at London Airport to join a party of 50 due to journey from Kathmandu in two groups separated by a two day gap. Our group included retired gentlemen, business men (and business women), lawyers, accountants, civil servants, a doctor, a medical student, two housewives and a priest, average age 50, most but by no means all experienced in the hills; but my forecast proved accurate and we rapidly knit together into a very happy group.

Unlike Tim Smith we had no airlift from Kathmandu; some of our day’s stages were shorter than his; and we had no opportunity for subsidiary ascents. Otherwise our itinerary followed his, and lasted 25 active days followed by some days of sight seeing and refilling the waist-band at Kathmandu and in India. It is said that the Japanese plan a hotel at Namche and it may be we were among the last to see the Sola Kumbu unspoilt. And what a sight! Let those interested make haste. For those with time, energy and like-minded companions a private expedition would be preferable, and Col. Roberts would do most of the organisation: but a package tour, though clumsy and inflexible, is not to be scorned, especially by the idle. Eric Shipton was a self-effacing and interesting leader and Cook’s organisation in its best traditions.

R. E. Chadwick.

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