These are almost the words of Theophile Gautier's defence of mountaineers: "Ils sont la volonté protestante contre l'obstacle aveugle, et ils plantent sur l'inaccessible le drapeau de l'intelligence humaine." If the climber wants a further statement of his creed let it be that of Mr. Belloc, when he first saw the Alps from the ridge of the Jura. "Up there, the sky above and below them, the great peaks made communion between that homing, creeping part of me which loves vineyards, and dances, and a slow movement among pastures, and that other part which is only properly at home in Heaven.... These, the great Alps, seen thus, link one in some way to one's immortality. Nor is it possible to convey, or even to suggest, these few fifty miles and these few thousand feet; there is something more. Let me put it thus: that from the height of Weissenstein I saw, as it were, my religion. I mean humility, the fear of death, the terror of height or of distance, the glory of God, the infinite potentiality of reception, whence springs that divine thirst of the soul; my aspiration also towards completion and my confidence in the dual destiny. For I know that we laughers have a gross cousinship with the most high, and it is this constant and perpetual quarrel which feeds the spring of merriment in the soul of a sane man. Since I could now see such a wonder, and it could work such things in my mind, therefore some day I should be part of it. That is what I feel. That it is also which leads some men to climb mountain-tops, but not me, for I am afraid of slipping down."*
*The Path to Rome.
And now for the great mountain itself. First of all, it is a rock peak. All the upper part is a great pyramid of stone, with three mainarêtes—the West, the South-West, and the North-East. It lies exactly on the frontier between Tibet and Nepal, and from the Nepalese side and the plains of India it is hard to get a good view of it, for only a wedge of white is seen peeping between and over other peaks. On the Tibetan side, however, it stands clear, and its pre-eminence over its neighbours is patent. Now, in all attacks upon a great peak the first question is how to get to it—a problem most difficult in the case of other Himalayan summits like K2, and of peaks like Mount McKinley in Alaska and Mount Robson in Canada. It is not only the question of the climbers getting there, but of transporting the food and tents and accessories required by a well-equipped expedition. Had the only route to Everest lain through the deep-cut gorges of Nepal, the transport problem might have been insuperable. But here came in the value of Tibet, which is a high plateau, averaging twelve or thirteen thousand feet. It was possible to take a large party, with baggage animals, up through the passes of Sikkim to the Kampa Dzong (Kampa Jong), and then westwards along the north side of the range to a base camp at Tingri Dzong, due north of the mountain. Everest itself would be forty or fifty miles from such a base camp, but there was a clear road to it by the upper glens and glaciers of the Arun, which flows north and east before it turns south and cuts its way through the Himalayan wall.
The problem of access to the base was, therefore, not a hard one. The problem of the ascent was two-fold—part physiological, part physical. Could human beings survive at an altitude of 29,000 feet—human beings who were forced to carry loads and to move their limbs? Aviators, of course, had risen to greater heights, but they had not been compelled to exert themselves. Could a man in action support life in that rarified air? Above 20,000 feet a cubic foot of air contains less than half the oxygen which it holds at sea-level. As the working of the body depends upon the oxygen supplied through the lungs, this fact was bound to lessen enormously man's physical energy. On the other hand, it had been found that the human frame could adapt itself to great altitudes by increasing the number of red blood corpuscles. Dr. Kellas had been able to climb 600 feet an hour above 21,000 feet, and Mr. Meade had camped in comparative comfort at 23,600 feet. Still, the highest altitude yet reached had been only 24,600 feet, and no one could say what difference the extra 4,500 feet might make. Clearly, before the final climbing began it would be necessary to acclimatize the party. In the last resort oxygen might be artificially supplied to the climbers. The physiological problem was of the kind which could only be solved in practice.
The second was the physical. A man might live and even move slowly above, say, 26,000 feet, but it was quite certain that no human being would be capable of the severe exertions required by difficult climbing. If the last stage of Everest proved to be like the last stages of many Himalayan mountains, then the thing was strictly impossible. The hope was that on the Tibetan side thearêtesmight be easy going. It all depended upon finding an easy route, and being able to make an ultimate camp at some point like 26,000 feet. There was good hope that the first might be possible, judging from Rawling's survey at a distance of sixty miles and the known geographical features of the Tibetan side of the range. The other physical difficulties would be the gigantic scale of Himalayan obstacles, the hugeness of the ice-fields and glaciers, the immensity of the rock-falls and avalanches. Also at a great height there would be the bitter cold to lower vitality, and the likelihood of violent winds. Much would depend on the weather, which was still an unknown quantity. Indeed, all the physical factors were in the region of speculation; only a reconnaissance could determine them. It might be that the expedition would have to turn back at once, confessing its task impossible.
General Bruce, who was the chief living authority on Himalayan travelling, was unable to accompany the party, so Colonel Howard-Bury was selected as leader. An elaborate scientific equipment was prepared, and steps were taken to get the full scientific value out of the journey. But the primary object was mountaineering: first a reconnaissance, and then, if fortune favoured, an effort to reach the summit. The four climbers chosen were Mr. Harold Raeburn, who, in 1920, had done good work on the spurs of Kanchenjunga; Dr. Kellas, who had reached 23,400 feet on Kamet; and two younger men, Mr. George Leigh Mallory and Mr. Bullock, distinguished members of the Alpine Club, who had been together at Winchester. In India they were to be joined by Major Morshead and Major Wheeler, of the Indian Survey. Early in May 1921, the party assembled at Darjeeling.
II
The start from Darjeeling was on 18th May. The first stage through Sikkim, and by way of the Chumbi valley to the Tibetan plateau, was over familiar ground, which need not be described. There was a good deal of trouble with the mules, which had been badly chosen, but no incident of importance happened till Dochen was reached, the point where their road left the main road to Lhasa. At Kampa Dzong, Dr. Kellas died suddenly from heart failure—an irreparable loss to the expedition, for he had been one of the mountaineers from whom most was looked for, and he was the only member of the party qualified by his medical knowledge to carry out experiments in oxygen and blood pressure. There, too, Mr. Raeburn fell sick, and had to return to Sikkim.
The Route of the Mount Everest Expedition.The Route of the Mount Everest Expedition.
The expedition made its way almost due west behind the main chain of the Himalaya, until one evening its members saw, almost due south of them, a beautiful peak which was apparently very high. The natives called it Chomo-Uri, which means the "Goddess of the Turquoise Peak," and from observations next morning it was clear that it was Everest. They passed some wonderful monasteries perching on the face of perpendicular crags, and eventually, on 19th June, they reached Tingri Dzong, after a month's travelling from Darjeeling. This was the spot they had decided upon for their base camp.
The obvious route to Everest seemed to be by way of the Rongbuk valley, where the great Rongbuk Glacier flowed from its northern face. There, accordingly, the two climbers, Mr. Mallory and Mr. Bullock, established themselves. The preliminary reconnaissance, however, proved to be a somewhat intricate matter. It was soon plain that there were no easy approaches from the west, so Colonel Howard-Bury moved his headquarters to Kharta, on the east side, close to the Arun. That river, which there is about one hundred yards wide, a little farther down enters great gorges, in which, within a course of twenty miles, it drops from 12,000 feet to 7,500 feet, or over 200 feet in a mile—a far more wonderful spectacle than anything on the Brahmaputra.
On 2nd August, Mr. Mallory and Mr. Bullock started their exploration of the eastern approaches to the mountain. This was no easy business, for the valleys were separated by ridges, the lowest point of which was higher than any mountain in Europe, and every route had to be explored personally, for no information could be had from the natives. The two main valleys running down on the east side of Everest are the Kharta and, farther south, the Kama. The latter valley was first explored, and it was found that it ended under the precipitous eastern face of the mountain, and that there was no way from it of reaching the North-East ridge. It was a marvellous valley for scenery, but for mountaineering impracticable.
A move was accordingly made to the Kharta valley to the north. Mr. Mallory and Mr. Bullock proceeded up this till they reached the glacier of the Kharta River, and at last found a valley which seemed to lead them straight to the North-East ridge. It was now, however, early August, the monsoon was blowing, and everywhere there was deep, soft, fresh snow. They returned accordingly to the camp at Kharta to wait till weather conditions became better.
What was called the Advance Base Camp was established in the Kharta valley at a height of 17,350 feet, in a grassy hollow well sheltered from the wind, and amid a glory of Alpine flowers. Meantime Mr. Mallory and Mr. Bullock spent their time in carrying wood and stores to a camp higher up the valley. This was finally established at a height of some 20,000 feet, well up the Kharta Glacier. At the glacier head was a pass called the Lhakpa La, or "Windy Gap," and the next step was to form a camp there at a height of 22,350 feet. It was in this neighbourhood that the tracks, probably of a wolf, were found, which the coolies attributed to the "Wild Men of the Snows."
From the Lhakpa La the mountaineers were now looking straight at Everest, and at last were able to unriddle its tangled topography. The attention of the reader is called to the map. It will be seen that the great Rongbuk Glacier, which descends from the western side of the northern face, receives as a feeder the East Rongbuk Glacier. The entrance to the latter is so small that Mr. Mallory and Mr. Bullock had failed to notice it in their exploration of the main glacier. This lesser Rongbuk Glacier ends on the eastern part of the northern face of the mountain, and between its head and that of the main glacier is the pass called the Chang La, or North Col. From the Lhakpa La one looks into the East Rongbuk Glacier with the North Col straight in front. If the North Col could be attained, it seemed to the mountaineers to be possible, by working up the easy northern face, to attain the North-East ridge at a point above the main difficulties.
The camp on the Lhakpa La was not a comfortable place, with a howling wind, 34 degrees of frost, and little stuffy tents which gave dubious protection and inevitable headaches. It was decided that the two expert Alpine climbers, with a few picked coolies, should alone attempt the North Col, and, if fortune favoured, prospect the farther route, while the others returned to the 20,000-feet camp.
We are now concerned with the doings only of Mr. Mallory and Mr. Bullock, who were to attempt the North Col. In the weeks since their arrival in the neighbourhood of Everest they had been studying its contours with the eyes of trained mountaineers. They saw that it was a great rock mass, "coated often with a thin layer of white powder, which is blown about its sides, and bearing perennial snow only on the gentler ledges and on several wide faces less steep than the rest." They saw that from the point of the North-East shoulder a more or less broadarêtefell northward to the snow col called the Chang La. If they could reach that snow col the road to the North-East ridge looked reasonably simple. They had seen that the Chang La would be very difficult of attainment from the Rongbuk Glacier, and that was why they had turned their minds to an eastern approach. Here is their conclusion, in Mr. Mallory's words, reached about the third week in July: "If ever the mountain were to be climbed, the way would not lie along the whole length of any one of its colossal ridges. Progress could only be made along comparatively easy ground, and anything like a prolonged sharp crest or a series of towers would inevitably bar the way, simply by the time it would require to overcome such obstacles. But the Northarête, coming down to the gap between Everest and the North Peak, Changtse, is not of this character. From the horizontal structure of the mountain there is no excrescence of rock pinnacles in this part, and the steep walls of rock which run across the north face are merged with it before they reach this part, which is comparatively smooth and continuous, a bluntly rounded edge.... The great question before us now was to be one of access. Could the North Col be reached from the east, and how could we attain this point?"
We have seen the two climbers as far on their journey as the Lhakpa La, looking over the East Rongbuk Glacier to the North Col. The chief difficulty, it was soon evident, would be the wall under the col, which must be over 500 feet high, and appeared to be very steep.
On the morning of 23rd September, Mr. Mallory, Mr. Bullock, and Mr. Wheeler started from the camp on the Lhakpa La with ten coolies, some of whom were mountain-sick, and all of whom were affected by the height. They started late, and resolved to make an easy day, pitching their tents that night in the open snow under the North Col. They had looked for a sheltered camp, but the place proved to be a temple of the winds, and no one that night had much sleep. Next morning, the 24th, a few hours after sunrise, they began to climb the slopes under the wall, and found them easier than they had feared. By 11.30 the party was on the col. Only three coolies had accompanied them, two of whom were already very tired. Of the three sahibs, only Mr. Mallory was in anything like good condition. The place was scourged by icy blasts, and frequently in a whirl of powdery snow, but there could be no doubt that thearêtein front of them was accessible. In that gale, however, they dare not attempt it, so they struggled back to their camp below the wall. Next morning, the 25th, a council of war was held. It was clear that they must either go on or go back. In their plan they had dreamed of making a camp at 26,000 feet, but that was now out of the question. It was too late in the season, the weather was too bad, and the party was too weak. There was nothing for it but to return, and accordingly they struggled over the Lhakpa La, back to the Kharta valley and the road to England.
The reconnaissance of 1921 had established certain facts of the first importance. The first was as to the proper season for the attempt. The rainfall in the Himalaya that year was abnormal, and the monsoon began and finished later than usual. But it was clear that between its end and the coming of winter there was not sufficient time to give the climbers a chance of good weather. The next attempt must obviously be made before the coming of the monsoon—that is, in May or June. The second fact established was the best way of attempting the summit. The only feasible route lay from the Chang La up the subsidiary ridge to the shoulder of the North-Eastarête. The distance from the Chang La to the top was not more than two miles, and the rise not more than 6,000 feet. So far as the climbers on the pass could judge—and their conclusion was supported by numerous photographs from other points—there seemed to be no very great difficulties on this route in the shape of steep rocks. It looked as if it might be practicable to find a site for a camp at about 26,000 feet. By this route the North-Eastarêtewould be reached at about 28,000 feet. The thousand feet from that point to the summit looked slightly more difficult, and appeared to possess certain rook towers, which, however, might be circumvented. The actual top seemed to be a cap of snow with a steep blunt edge on the side of the ridge.
The massif of Mount Everest.Themassifof Mount Everest.
The transport question must always be difficult. The thousand feet from the East Bongbuk Glacier to the Chang La, half of which was very steep, might give trouble to laden coolies, especially earlier in the season when the ice was uncovered by snow. An advanced base camp on the Chang La would, of course, be essential if a high camp were to be made at 26,000 feet. But the physical problem might be regarded as solved—at any rate as far as the shoulder of the North-Eastarête. On the physiological question little light had been thrown. The climbers in September 1921 were all more or less tired from spending long periods in high camps, and could not be regarded as at the top of their form. Yet in the case of most members of the party the process of acclimatization had been rapid, and Mr. Mallory on the Chang La was remarkably fit. What would happen, however, at the higher altitudes? The effect of these upon the human body had not been decided.
The conclusion from the year's work was that while no insuperable difficulty had been proved in the problem, yet for success there must be a combination of happy chances in the shape of weather, the condition of the snow, the endurance of the transport coolies, and the bodily fitness of the climbers. A second attempt would be justified, but it could not be regarded with anything like confidence. The enterprise was seriously and responsibly envisaged, and no better expression of the spirit of those who undertook it can be found than in Mr. Mallory's own words: "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 to 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."
III
The 1922 party had as its leader Brigadier-General the Hon. C. G. Bruce, the supreme authority upon the Himalaya, to the exploration of which he had devoted much of his life. He knew the hill people, too, as no other man knew them, and his advice was invaluable in the selection of porters. The climbers were Mr. Mallory, Mr. Finch (who had been selected for the expedition of the year before, but had been unable to accompany it), Mr. Norton, and Mr. Somervell—all of whom were trained mountaineers; and Captain Geoffrey Bruce, who had never done any serious climbing before. Major Morshead was also of the party. The 1921 expedition had discovered what seemed a possible route to the summit by the North Col, and the new expedition proposed to follow its tracks. It was stronger inpersonnelthan its predecessor, and much stronger in equipment, for it had learned many lessons from the experiences of the year before. Among other things, it carried a supply of oxygen in bottles, and the necessary apparatus to use it.
The party, being resolved to make the attempt before the monsoon broke, made straight for the old advanced base camp in the Kharta valley. Thanks to General Bruce's consummate skill in the organization of mountain travel, it reached that point on the date fixed and with everybody in good health. The next duty was to establish an advanced camp one stage before the North Col, up to which porters could be brought without undue fatigue. The summit of the Lhakpa La was abandoned, and an advanced base, known as Camp No. 3, was established under the west side of the pass, close to the East Rongbuk Glacier.
The next step was to ascertain whether the road to the North Col was practicable, for when Mr. Mallory's party had travelled it the year before there had been fresh snow, and at this early season there was a danger of bare ice. Mr. Somervell and Mr. Mallory, on 13th May, with one coolie, set forth from Camp No. 3 on a reconnaissance, and found that the route they had followed the year before was one sheet of glittering ice. They saw, however, that they could cut their way into a corridor filled with good snow, which would lead them up to the foot of the final slope, and that final slope proved also to be snow and not ice. On the North Col they found a difficulty they had not looked for. Between the point at which they reached it and Everest itself was an ice cliff, which the year before they had circumvented. Now they found their way barred by a hopeless crevasse. Ultimately they discovered a route at the far end of the ice cliff, and reached the level snow from which the north ridge of Everest springs.
The next few days were occupied in bringing up supplies to Camp 4 on the North Col. They had only nine porters available, and this decided them that it would not be feasible to make two camps on the face of the mountain. They resolved to attempt to make one camp at about 26,000 feet, and from that to make their final effort.
On the 19th the four climbers, Mr. Mallory, Mr. Norton, Major Morshead, and Mr. Somervell, left Camp 3 at a quarter to nine in the morning, and an hour after mid-day were busy putting up tents and arranging stores at Camp 4 on the North Col. The sun set at 4.30, and they turned in for the night in the best of spirits. On the morrow they proposed to carry up two of the small tents, two double sleeping-sacks, food for a day and a half, cooking-pots, and two thermos flasks. They would make four loads of the stuff, which would give two porters to each load, with a man to spare.
On 20th May, Mr. Mallory got up at 5 a.m., and found that there was no sign of life in the tents in which the nine porters were quartered. The coolies had shut themselves in so hermetically that they were all unwell, and four of them were suffering badly from mountain-sickness. Only five were able to embark on the day's work. Breakfast was a slow business, because everything was frozen hard, and the dish of spaghetti which they had promised themselves could only be prepared after an elaborate process of thawing.
A start was made at 7 a.m., and everything went smoothly at first, for ropes had been fixed between their camp and the col itself, so as to help them on their return. From the col a broad snow ridge went up at an easy angle, and all the climbers felt that bodily fitness which is the assurance of success.
Then their troubles began. The first was the cold. The sun had no more warmth in it than a candle, and a bitter wind began to blow from the west. They came to an end of the ridge of stones on which they had been progressing easily, and realized that they must get some shelter from the wind by moving to the east side of the shoulder. Step-cutting was now necessary, and at that height the exertion required was extraordinarily severe. Moreover, the cold was telling upon them, and the porters especially suffered badly. After some 300 feet of steps they rested about noon under the shelter of some rocks at 25,000 feet.
It seemed to them that they could not get their loads much higher, and that they had better look out for a camp, for the porters had to return to the North Col. But a camping ground was not easy to find. At last, on the east side of the ridge, they discovered a steep slab, up to which they could level the ground. It was a poor place, for the incline was sharp, most of the floor was composed of broken rocks, and men lying down would inevitably slip on top of each other. There, however, they placed the little tents, each with its double sleeping-bag, and melted snow for their makeshift supper. The porters started back for the North Col, and the climbers, two in each bed, did their best to keep warm. All four had suffered a good deal from the cold. Mr. Norton's ear was badly swollen, three of Mr. Mallory's fingers were touched with the frost, and Major Morshead was chilled to the bone and clearly unwell.
The wind dropped in the evening, and during the night fresh snow fell. At 6.50 on the morning of 21st May they crawled from their sleeping-bags and made a laborious and exiguous breakfast, for only one thermos flask had turned up. At eight o'clock they started, none of them feeling their best after the stuffy, headachy night. Major Morshead was unable to go with them, for his illness had increased, and most regretfully the other three went on without him.
A good deal of fresh snow had fallen, but the first hours of climbing were not very difficult. The worst trouble was the perverse stratification of the mountain, for all the ledges tilted the wrong way. Slowly they crawled up, first regaining the ridge by turning west, and then following the ridge itself in the direction of the point of the North-Eastarête. They decided that they must turn back at about two o'clock if they were to make the descent in reasonable safety. Besides, they had to consider Major Morshead left alone in Camp 5.
The Chang La from the Lhakpa La, with Mount Everest on the left. (By permission of the Mount Everest Committee.)The Chang La from the Lhakpa La, with Mount Everest on the left.(By permission of the Mount Everest Committee.)
At 2.15 they reached the head of the rocks, about 500 feet below the point where the north shoulder joined the North-Eastarête. Here they had a clear view of the summit. The aneroid gave the elevation as 26,800 feet, but it is possible that it may have been nearly 200 feet more. Their advance had for some time been reduced to a very slow crawl, but none of the party were really exhausted. It was wise, however, to turn while they had sufficient strength to get back to Camp 4. They tried moving westward, where there seemed to be more snow, but they found that the snow slopes were a series of slabs with an ugly tilt under a thin covering of new snow; so they went back to the ridge and followed their old tracks. At four o'clock they reached Camp 5, and picked up Major Morshead and their tents and sleeping-bags. After that the going became more difficult, as the fresh-fallen snow had made even easy ground treacherous. One slip did occur, and the three men were held only by the rope secured round Mr. Mallory's ice axe.
The descent now became a race with the fast-gathering darkness. When they got to the snow ridge they could find no trace of the steps they had made the day before, and had to cut them over again. At this point they were in sight of the watchers far below at Camp 3 on the glacier. Major Morshead was suffering severely and could only move a few steps at a time. As the night drew in, lightning began to flicker from the clouds in the west, but happily the wind did not rise. They were soon at the crevasses and the ice cliff, and, as the air was calm, it was possible to light a lantern to guide them. They hunted desperately to find the fixed rope, which would take them down to the terrace, where they could see their five tents awaiting them, but the rope was covered with snow, and at that moment the lantern gave out. Happily somebody hooked up the buried rope, and after that it was plain going to the tents.
They reached them at 11.30, and could find no fuel or cooking-pots. Their mouths were parched with thirst, and the best beverage they could concoct was a mixture of jam and snow with frozen condensed milk. Mr. Mallory ascribes to the influence of this stuff "the uncontrollable shudderings, spasms of muscular contraction in belly and back, which I suffered in my sleeping-bag, and which caused me to sit up and inhale again great whiffs from the night air, as though the habit of deep breathing had settled upon me indispensably."
The four men did not waste time next morning on the North Col, for they were tormented by thirst and hunger. It took them six hours to reach Camp 3, for they had to make a staircase beneath the new snow which the porters could use, in order to fetch down their baggage, since they did not intend to spend the night at Camp 3 without their sleeping-bags. At midday they were back in comparative comfort, with certain solid conclusions as the result of the venture. One was as to the difficulties of new snow and the precariousness of the weather; another was as to the unexpected capacity of the porters. But the most important was as to the need of oxygen. They had reached a point very little below 27,000 feet, and that left 2,000 feet to be surmounted before the summit was reached. For success, a higher camp was needed than Camp 5, and the men who started from it must, if possible, have an extra stimulus to counteract the malign effects of altitude. If Everest chose to clothe itself with air containing less oxygen than a man needed, the defect must be supplied. If a climber used extra clothes to counteract the cold, he must use some extra device to supplement the atmosphere.
IV
We come now to the second attempt of 1922, in which oxygen was used. Certain eminent scientists at home had held that Everest could never be conquered without its aid, and the expedition had brought a very full equipment—oxygen stored in light steel cylinders, and a somewhat complex apparatus for its use. There had been oxygen drill parades among the party, and perhaps it might have been well had they used it straight away for one main attempt, instead of making the first effort without it. Unfortunately the apparatus needed overhauling, and it was not till 22nd May, when Mr. Mallory and his party were coming down from the mountain, that four sets were ready for use. As to the legitimacy of such a device in mountaineering, Mr. Finch's arguments are final.
"Few of us, I think, who stop to ponder for a brief second, will deny that our very existence in this enlightened twentieth century, with all its amenities of modern civilization is ... 'artificial.' Most of us have learned to respect progress, and to appreciate the meaning and advantages of adaptability. For instance, it is a fairly firmly established fact that warmth is necessary to life. The mountaineer, acting on this knowledge, conserves, as far as possible, his animal heat by wearing especially warm clothing. No one demurs; it is the commonsense thing to do. He pours his hot tea from a thermos bottle—and never blushes! Nonchalantly, without fear of adverse criticism, he doctors up his insides with special heat- and energy-giving foods and stimulants! From the sun's ultra-violet rays and the wind's bitter cold he boldly dares to protect his eyes with Crookes' anti-glare glasses. Further, he wears boots that to the average layman look ridiculous! The use of caffeine, to supply just a little more buck to an almost worn-out frame, is not cavilled at, despite its being a synthetic drug, the manufacture of which involves the employment of complicated plant and methods. If science could prepare oxygen in tabloid form, or supply it to us in thermos flasks that we might imbibe it like our hot tea, the stigma of 'artificiality' would, perhaps, be effectually removed. But when it has to be carried in special containers, its whole essence is held to be altered, and, by using it, the mountaineer is taking a sneaking, unfair advantage of the mountain! In answer to this grave charge, I would remind the accuser that, by the inhalation of a little life-giving gas, the climber does not smooth away the rough rocks of the mountain, or still the storm; nor is he an Aladdin who, by a rub on a magic ring, is wafted by invisible agents to his goal. Oxygen renders available more of his store of energy, and so hastens his steps, but it does not, alas! fit the wings of Mercury to his feet. The logic of the anti-oxygenist is surely faulty."
On 20th May, Mr. Finch and Captain Geoffrey Bruce arrived at Camp 3, accompanied by Tejbir, one of the four Gurkha non-commissioned officers lent to the expedition. There they found the oxygen apparatus in bad condition, and had to tinker at it for four days. During this period they made a trial trip to Camp 4 on the North Col, using oxygen. A good deal of new step-cutting had to be done, for fresh snow had fallen, but in spite of that, the oxygen enabled them to get to the col in three hours and to return in fifty minutes, with halts to take three dozen photographs.
On 24th May, Mr. Finch, Captain Bruce, Captain Noel, the official photographer, and Tejbir, with twelve porters, went up to the North Col and camped for the night. Next morning, the 25th, brought a clear, windy sky, and at eight o'clock the twelve porters, with the camp outfit, provisions for one day, and the oxygen cylinders, started up the North ridge, followed an hour and a half later by Mr. Finch, Captain Bruce, and Tejbir, each carrying a load of over thirty pounds. All fifteen used oxygen. It was their intention to make a camp above 26,000 feet; but after one o'clock the wind freshened and snow began, so it was deemed advisable, in order to ensure the safe return of the porters to the North Col, to camp at 25,500 feet. The camping place was no better than that which Mr. Mallory had found; the place was on the actual crest of the ridge, for the west side was scourged by wind, and there was no good position on the east side. The tent was pitched on a little platform on the edge of precipices falling to the East Rongbuk Glacier, 4,000 feet below. The tent was secured as well as possible by guy-ropes; but when the climbers got into their sleeping-bags it was both blowing and snowing hard, and minute flakes filled the tent. Snow was melted, and a tepid meal was cooked—a really warm meal was out of the question, for at that altitude water boils at so low a temperature that a man can hold his hand in it without discomfort.
As the night closed in, the two climbers comforted themselves with the assurance that next day they would get to the top. But after sunset the wind increased to a gale so furious that even the ground sheet with the three men lying on it was lifted completely off the earth. They blocked up the small openings as well as they could, but before midnight everything inside was covered with spindrift. It was impossible to sleep. They had to be constantly on the watch to prevent the flaps being torn open and to hold the tent down; for they realized that if once the gale got hold of their shelter the whole outfit would be blown on to the glacier below.
Few adventurers have ever spent a more awful night. Tejbir had all the placidity of his race, and Captain Bruce, who was making his first serious mountaineering expedition on the highest of the world's mountains, was as cheerful as if he had been sleeping in an ordinary Alpinecabane. Here is Mr. Finch's own description:—
"By one o'clock on the morning of the 26th the gale reached its maximum. The wild flapping of the canvas made a noise like that of machine-gun fire. So deafening was it that we could scarcely hear each other speak. Later there came interludes of comparative lull, succeeded by bursts of storm more furious than ever. During such lulls we took it in turn to go outside to tighten up slackened guy-ropes, and also succeeded in tying down the tent more firmly with our Alpine rope. It was impossible to work in the open for more than three or four minutes at a stretch, so profound was the exhaustion induced by this brief exposure to the fierce cold wind."
Morning broke with no lull in the violence of the elements. They prepared a make-shift meal, and spent the forenoon hours in desperate anxiety. At midday the storm seemed to reach the summit of its fury, and matters were made more awkward by a stone cutting a great hole in the tent. Mercifully an hour later the wind suddenly dropped, and the anxious occupants of the tent could prospect the weather.
The sensible thing would have been to make a retreat to the North Col, but there was no thought of giving up. The party were unanimous in resolving to hang on and make the attempt the following day. With the last of their fuel they cooked supper—a frugal meal, for, since they had only carried provisions for one day, they were now on very short rations. As they settled down for the night voices were heard outside, and the porters from the North Col appeared, bringing thermos flasks of hot beef-tea and tea, sent by Captain Noel. In a little more comfort they tried to sleep. All three, however, were strained and weak from their labours of the past twenty-four hours, and they felt a numbing cold creeping up their limbs. Mr. Finch had the happy inspiration to use oxygen, and so arranged the apparatus that each could breathe a small quantity throughout the night. "The result was marvellous. We slept well and warmly. Whenever the tube delivering the gas fell out of Bruce's mouth as he slept, I could see him stir uneasily in the eerie greenish light of the moon as it filtered through the canvas. Then, half unconsciously replacing the tube, he would fall once more into a peaceful slumber."
Next morning, the 27th, they woke well and hungry, and after a struggle with their boots, which were frozen stiff, started off at 6.30, Captain Bruce and Mr. Finch carrying each over forty pounds, and Tejbir some fifty pounds. Their plan was to take Tejbir as far as the North-East shoulder, and there to relieve him of his load and send him back. It was cold clear weather, and the wind was not too strong. Presently, however, it began to freshen, and after they had gained a few hundred feet it was Tejbir who showed the first signs of weakness. He collapsed entirely, and had to be relieved of his cylinders and sent back. The height was about 26,000 feet, the highest point which any native had yet reached.
In order to move more quickly, Mr. Finch and Captain Bruce dispensed with the rope. The rocks were quite easy, and at 26,500 feet they had passed two admirable sites for a camp. But the wind was steadily increasing in force, and they were compelled to leave the ridge and traverse out across the great north face. This was bad luck, for the ridge was easy climbing and the face was not. The stratification of the rocks was most awkward, and it was hard to find any good footholds. The climbers were unroped, and it was a severe test of Captain Bruce, who had had no mountaineering experience to give him confidence. Sometimes they were on treacherous slopes, sometimes on more treacherous snow, and they often had to cross heaps of scree that moved with every step. They stopped occasionally to replace an empty cylinder of oxygen with a new one, each of which meant five pounds off their load. Presently the aneroid gave their height as 27,000 feet. They now ceased traversing, and began to climb straight upward to a point on the North-East ridge, half way between the shoulder and the summit. Soon they were at 27,300 feet, and the top of Everest was the only mountain they could see without looking down. The peaks which had seemed so formidable from the glacier had now sunk into insignificant humps. They were 1,700 feet below the summit, well within half a mile of it, and they could distinguish stones and a patch of scree just under its highest point.
But it was very clear that they could go no farther. Weak with hunger and the anxiety and labours of the past forty-eight hours, it was plain to Mr. Finch that if they went on even for another 500 feet they would not both get back alive. Like wise and brave men they decided to retreat. It was now about midday, and for greater safety they roped together. At first they followed their old tracks, and then moved towards the North ridge at a point higher than where they had left it. They reached the ridge at two o'clock, and there reduced their burden by dumping four oxygen cylinders at a place to which future climbers could be directed.
The weather was getting worse. A violent wind from the west was bringing up mist, but happily there was no snow. Half an hour later they reached their camp of the night before, where they found Tejbir sound asleep, wrapped up in all the three sleeping-bags. The porters from the North Col were a mile below, and Tejbir was instructed to go down with them. The rest of the descent was a nightmare. The knees of the climbers knocked together, and their limbs did not seem to respond to the direction of the brain. Often they staggered and slipped, and often they were forced to sit down. But at four o'clock in the afternoon they reached the North Col. Happily they still felt famished; they had not yet reached the limit of a man's strength when hunger vanishes. At the North Col they had hot tea and spaghetti, and three-quarters of an hour later they started off for Camp 3 in the company of Captain Noel. The journey was made in record time—forty minutes—and at 5.30 they had reached Camp 3, having descended since midday 6,000 feet.
That evening made amends for the long hours of famine. "Four whole quails, truffled inpaté de foie gras, followed by nine sausages, left me asking for more. The last I remember of that long day was going to sleep, warm in the depths of our wonderful sleeping-bag, with the remains of a tin of toffee tucked away in the crook of my elbow."
Captain Brace's feet were badly frost-bitten, but Mr. Finch had come off scot-free, which was neither more nor less than a physical miracle.
As Captain Bruce, on the way down to the base camp, turned to take his last close view of Everest, his farewell was: "Just you wait, old thing. You will be for it soon." It was the logical conclusion. He and Mr. Finch had got to 27,300 feet after exertions and deprivations which might well have unfitted a man for the ascent of the Rigi. These misfortunes were accidental and not inevitable. The value—the superlative value—of oxygen had been abundantly proved. It may be fairly said that the 1922 expedition, though it had not set foot on the summit, had solved the secret of Everest. The mountain could almost certainly be climbed, provided a little luck attended the climbers. Now that the quality of the native porters has been proved, there seems no reason why, with the help of oxygen, a sixth camp could not be arranged on one of the flat places under 27,000 feet which Mr. Finch noted. A night in such a camp would be no more trying than a night at 25,000 feet. If the climbers, starting from 27,000 feet, and, after a good night, fell in with reasonable weather, there seems little doubt that the remaining 2,000 feet could be ascended and the peak conquered, with a good prospect of a safe return on the same day to the North Col. There remains, of course, the possibility of physical breakdown, such as happened to Major Morshead and Tejbir. But against this may be set the fact that Mr. Mallory, Mr. Somervell, Mr. Norton, Mr. Finch, and Captain Bruce, at great altitudes and after severe physical labour, were not specially distressed, and suffered no bad effects afterwards.
The conquest of Everest will always remain one of the most difficult adventures which man can undertake. But it is a reasonable adventure, and not a piece of crazy foolhardiness, which could only succeed by the help of the one chance in a million. The two reconnaissance expeditions have shown that for its achievement every available human resource is necessary. But granted the utilization of these resources, and the possibility, which our familiarity with the lower slopes may soon permit, of waiting upon a spell of kindly weather, the ultimate conquest would seem to be assured. The secret of Everest has been solved. We know now that there is a way to the top, and we know what that way is.*
* The narratives on which the above account is based will be found inMount Everest: The Reconnaissance(Edwin Arnold, 1921), and the papers by Mr. Mallory and Mr. Finch in theAlpine Journalof November, 1922.
THE END.
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