General Considerations
Configuration.
Essentially, we find two more or less parallel ranges. The southern and highest is visible from the plains. On this stand the great peaks whose names are familiar to us. This outer range is pierced by numerous rivers which burst through a series of deep, narrow gorges. The low elevation of these river valleys brings an almost tropical fauna and flora up to the foot of the Snows. The snowline on this range, owing to greater precipitation, reaches down lower than on the second range, that to the north. This second, or northern, range constitutes the local water-parting between India and the countries to the north. It is reached by broad, open, treeless valleys almost Tibetan in character as in fauna. Its snowline is high owing to the drier climate. The peaks seldom attain 25,000 feet, and, in general, are not so precipitous as the great line of peaks to the south.
Even in Kashmir this arrangement of two parallel ranges may be traced; but though there is plenty of fine climbing on the ranges which enclose between them the Vale of Kashmir, most of which have already fallen to the attacks of residents and British officers, yet the eyes of the mountaineer from England will be fixed on the vast range of the Karakoram beyond the Indus.
THE HIMALAYA
C. F. MEADE
This grand chain has a character of its own, though there are points of resemblance to both ranges of the Himalaya. The glaciers are the largest outside the Polar regions. The peaks are very high and very precipitous. It is the country par excellence for the mountain explorer; but for the mountain climber the greatest drawback is the journey of four to six weeks from England to the scene of operations.
Climbing Conditions.
Rock climbing is the same all the world over in that the conditions vary on every mountain in any range. Also, a rock peak cannot be really reconnoitred from a distance; we must come to grips with the rocks before we can know the practicability of a route. As to snow and ice, I think conditions are worse in the Himalaya than in the Alps or Caucasus, chiefly owing to greater variations of temperature. Avalanches of all kinds are bigger, and great caution must be exercised in the choice of camps and bivouacs. Snow and ice slopes in the Alps appear to me to look steeper than they eventually turn out to be. In the Caucasus they are about as steep as they look. In the Himalaya I have usually found them markedly steeper than their distant appearance led me to expect.
Management.
Diverse as are the physical conditions of the Himalayan regions, the inhabitants thereof show an even greater variety of character. Some general rules of conduct may, however, be indicated, though most of them may be considered by mountaineers as truisms not worth the stating. The first object to keep in view is to create such an impression amongst the natives as will make the path of subsequent visitors easier and not harder. Almost all hill men are superstitious. You must expect timidity at first. Remember particularly that native servants are very prone to abuse the authority which in the eyes of the villagers is acquired by the mere fact of their being in your service. The hill man is usually inarticulate; he knows you cannot speak his dialect, and probably your servants are the only interpreters. Your watchfulness is his only chance of a square deal. Pay for everything with your own hand, if it be only an anna for a few eggs. Of course always pay your day-to-day coolies yourself, and, if they desire it, give each his four or eight annas separately, only paying over a whole rupee to a group from the same hamlet.
Religious beliefs are very mixed in the hills, and it is a good rule to keep well away when your coolies, whatever their race, are cooking or eating. Of course you must never offer them cooked food. Away from the villages, and if only two or three men are with you, such things as biscuits and jam—being assumed not to be made by hand—may be offered if necessary. This applies more especially to Hindus; but though Moslems should eat with Christians, the same rules had better be applied. With Gurkhas (though nominal Hindus) or others with the strain of Mongolian blood in them—who are or have till lately been Buddhists—the code need not be quite so strict.
These remarks might seem unnecessary to anyone having experience only of sport or travel in High Asia; but for the mountaineer who essays to take coolies or shikaris to high bivouacs it is obviously of great advantage to get them to adopt European foods and methods of cooking. This was successfully done by the Italian expedition to the Karakoram in 1909. Tea (native green is best) and the vilest cigarettes may be offered to any coolie without fear of offence as a reward after an extra hard day. The gift of a sheep or goat on suitable occasions produces a glow of contentment all through the camp.
As to more general conduct: Refrain from whistling. Do not bathe naked before natives. Never lose your temper except on purpose and with a definite object. Never allow your servants to be familiar or to enter your tent with their shoes on. Do not laugh or joke with your men unless you are master of the language. If you do, you may be as broad as possible, especially with Gurkhas. Exact proper respect from all village officials with whom you come in contact. Conversely, treat a native gentleman with the same courtesy that you expect yourself. Hindu religious mendicants and devotees are easily irritated, and are best left severely alone.
The Campaign.
It is absolutely essential that the climber planning a visit to the Himalaya should make up his mind exactly what he wants to do. Leaving aside exploration, the most dangerous lure on the path of the mountaineer, we may for convenience confine ourselves to two courses—the attack on some particular and probably very high peak; or a less ambitious and more general campaign in some selected district in which climbing for its own sake, apart from any design of raising ‘the record,’ is the object aimed at.
Having settled the strategic idea, we must next consider tactics. In the case of a single big mountain, the method of attack will be in the nature of siege operations; and in this case a siege train, in the form of Piedmontese guides, makes for success. Still, a siege is dull, and to get the full pleasure out of a trip in the Himalaya, amateurs and not guides are the best companions. The difficulty is to get them for an absence of several months from England.
As a matter of tactics, the writer prefers, with or without guides, to try and ‘rush’ peaks; for by this means far the most climbing is secured. On the other hand, more frequent failure is risked by such direct attacks. Unless the weather is favourable, a successful high ascent is quite impossible; and if a climber is moving about and continually attacking different peaks, he loses chances on particular peaks which the besieger, waiting upon their favourable moments, can take instant advantage of.
There is, further, the vexed question of the actual final assault. Should it be a gradual pushing of bivouacs higher and higher, in the hope of acclimatizing ourselves to the want of oxygen; or should we make the last bivouac as low down as possible, in the hope that better conditions for digestion and sleep will enable us to put forth one tremendous effort on the final day of the adventure? Subjection to low pressures, or want of oxygen, for days or weeks will find out our weakest spots. With some the belly, with others the mind. For myself, I know that after several nights at very high altitudes my mind is dull and my courage reduced to vanishing-point. In all cases, so far as I know, there is considerable loss of weight. To actual mountain sickness we can acclimatize ourselves by going as frequently as possible above 20,000 feet. But we cannot stay for long at very high altitudes and preserve all our strength. We must come down again soon to 15,000 feet, or lower if we can. It is easier to deny than to prove the existence of mountain sickness; but although we do not bleed from the ears, or even the nose, nowadays, most of us suffer some diminution of our powers. This being so, it appears that the best chance of success on a very high mountain is to send some one else to examine the final route and to lay the last bivouac for the storming party; just high enough for them, supposing they are in good condition, to reach the summit well on in the following afternoon. This may seem a soulless way to wear a mountain down; but it is merely the application of Polar methods to slightly changed conditions.
As in the Polar regions, also, the weather decides between success and failure, between return and no return. Because of the cold, it is unwise to start before sunrise.[28] The risk is less in descending easy ground at night—perhaps because movement is then quicker.
A concrete example puts the case shortly. Trisul is only some 23,400 feet high, but it appears to be the highest peak of which the complete ascent is universally admitted. After two nights, at about 20,000 feet, in bad weather, the party retreated to 14,000 feet. Three days later, after one bivouac at about 18,000 feet, the summit was reached at 4 p.m. (10 hours), and the night was spent on the return at about 16,500 feet.
Season.
Generally speaking, the regular rainy season (‘monsoon’) commences in July and ends in September; but all the world over more rain falls, and falls more frequently, on mountains than on the country immediately surrounding them. Hence, though probably June is the best month for the high peaks, we cannot even then count on continuous fine weather.
It is always easy to avoid the monsoon by pushing north into the second range; but here again it must not be expected that the highest peaks will completely conform to the rainless character of the rest of this region.
When the rains are over, in September and October spells of gloriously fine and clear weather are the rule; but the nights are then bitterly cold above the tree-line.