On the following night we had 20° of frost, and the weather appeared to be getting rather more settled. We were now sufficiently high up to be above the ordinary clouds, and we could look down upon the great sea of them which overhung the Arun Valley and the greater part of Nepal. As the sun warmed the clouds, they used to rise higher, but they seldom arrived as far as our camp owing to a strong North-westerly wind always blowing in the upper regions of the air which drove them back again. Watching the movements of the clouds day by day gave me the impression that the Mount Everest group forms a dividing line between the two monsoon systems. The monsoon that causes so much rain in Sikkim comes from the Bay of Bengal, and these moist currents sweep up to Mount Everest, but it is only when the current is very strong that they pass beyond it. At this time of year this monsoon was still active, whereas the Arabian Sea monsoon—that is to say, the moist winds from the Arabian Sea—which had given us previously much rain and snow on the Western sides and slopes of Mount Everest, was now over, with the result that on the West side of Everest we had blue skies every day and no rain clouds, whereas on the East side the clouds and the moisture brought up by the Bengal monsoon still prevailed. During the course of the morning I climbed an easy hill to the East side of the camp and some 500 feet above it. We walked along at first just below the ice cap, which was very pretty with its long icicles gleaming in the sunlight. We then crossed on to the ice cap and found the snow in excellent condition, firm and crisp to the tread, so that it was a pleasure to walk along it. From the top of this hill, 20,500 feet, was a very fine view to the East, over the great sea of cloud which filled up all the valleys as far as the Massif of Kanchenjunga which towered up in the distance, and the more slender peak of Jannu. Amongst the Sikkim peaks I could also recognise Chomiomo and the Jonsong peak. To the South Makalu towered up above all the other mountains: while between it and Mount Everest, beyond the Southern watershed of the Kama Valley, showed up some of the great Nepalese peaks, among which we noted Chamlang, 24,000 feet. To the West of us Mount Everest showed up sharp and clear and very white after all the fresh snow that had fallen in the last month. From this side Mount Everest certainly looks its best, standing up as a solitary peak instead of being rather dwarfed by the high ridges that radiate from it. The weather remained fine all day, and it was a real pleasure to sit outside one's tent and bask in the sun. Though we were 20,000 feet, we had breakfast, lunch and tea out of doors in front of our tents, and we could not have been warmer or enjoyed pleasanter conditions if we had been down at 5,000 feet.
On September 22, leaving Raeburn behind, Mallory, Bullock, Morshead, Wheeler, Wollaston and myself started off to Lakhpa La camp. We left the 20,000-foot camp in 22° of frost at four o'clock in the morning, accompanied by twenty-six coolies, who were divided up into four parties, each of which was properly roped. It was a beautiful moonlight night, and the mountains showed up nearly as brightly as in the daytime. We rapidly descended the 200 feet from our terrace to the glacier, when we all “roped up.” The snow on the glacier was in excellent condition, and as it was frozen hard we made good progress. Dawn overtook us on the broad flat part of the glacier, the first beams of the sun falling on the summit of Mount Everest, which lay straight in front of us, and changing the colour of the snow gradually from pink to orange, all the time with a background of deep purple sky, every detail showing up sharp and clear in the frosty air. We mounted gradually past Kartse, the white conical-shaped peak climbed by Mallory and Bullock a month ago from the Kama Valley. We wended our way without much difficulty through the ice-fall of the glacier, below some superbly fluted snow ridges that rose straight above us. Then followed a long and at times a somewhat steep climb over soft powdery snow to the top of the pass. Even at these heights we came across tracks in the snow. We were able to pick out tracks of hares and foxes, but one that at first looked like a human foot puzzled us considerably. Our coolies at once jumped to the conclusion that this must be “The Wild Man of the Snows,” to which they gave the name of Metohkangmi, “the abominable snow man” who interested the newspapers so much. On my return to civilised countries I read with interest delightful accounts of the ways and customs of this wild man whom we were supposed to have met. These tracks, which caused so much comment, were probably caused by a large “loping” grey wolf, which in the soft snow formed double tracks rather like those of a barefooted man. Tibet, however, is not the only country where there exists a “bogey man.” In Tibet he takes the form of a hairy man who lives in the snows, and little Tibetan children who are naughty and disobedient are frightened by wonderful fairy tales that are told about him. To escape from him they must run down the hill, as then his long hair falls over his eyes and he is unable to see them. Many other such tales have they with which to strike terror into the hearts of bad boys and girls.
I reached the top of the pass (22,350 feet) by 10.30 a.m., and was rewarded by a wonderful view of Mount Everest, now only a couple of miles away. From the pass there was a steep descent of about 1,200 feet to a glacier which after many wanderings finds its way into the Rongbuk Glacier. This valley had never been thoroughly investigated by Mallory and Bullock in their visit to the Rongbuk Valley. It does not, however, actually form the main Rongbuk Glacier, but stops several miles short of it, the entrance to the valley containing this huge glacier being both small and very insignificant. The bad weather that they had experienced in the Rongbuk Valley during the latter half of their stay there had made it impossible for Mallory and Bullock to explore this valley, or see what lay at its head.
We were now opposite the Chang La (North Col) which joins Mount Everest to Changtse (the North peak), and from this col was, so far as we were able to judge, the only route to the summit. The way from the glacier up to the Chang La looked steep and unpromising, and we doubted whether it would be possible to take laden coolies up, even to this point. I took as many photographs as I could, and as quickly as possible, for there was an icy wind blowing which almost froze my hands. This wind blew the fine powdery snow off all the crests of the ridges and it penetrated everywhere. We found a little hollow in the snow a few feet below the crest, and here we set to work to pitch our camp. There was not much shelter, but it was the only possible place. We had only brought small Alpine Meade and Mummery tents with us. Two of us occupied each tent. They were very small and uncomfortable, and in order to enter them we had to crawl through a narrow funnel almost as though we were entering a dog kennel. The effort of crawling in was very exhausting and caused us to remain out of breath for a considerable time afterwards. Even these small tents were with difficulty pitched owing to the strong winds: cooking was quite out of the question until dark when the wind temporarily lulled. We had brought up with us some Primus stoves and spirit lamps. No one, except perhaps Wheeler, was very expert with the Primus stove, and though no doubt under favourable conditions they would be easy to work, even at these heights, we were never very successful with them and were forced to rely upon the spirit stoves. After sunset we had a scratch meal of consommé, which we managed to warm up, followed by some cold ham and biscuits, after which we retired to bed. The moment the sun went down there were 25° of frost. Up till now I had felt no ill-effects from the rarefied air; I had not even had a headache and my appetite was good, though I owned to feeling rather lazy and it always needed an effort to concentrate one's thoughts. The coolies who had accompanied us up to this camp all seemed to be well and were very cheerful. The eiderdown sleeping-bags were a great comfort; they were our only means of keeping thoroughly warm with 34° of frost outside. But I cannot say that I felt comfortable or, in fact, that I slept at all, as the snow which at most times had been much too soft, seemed here to freeze into uncomfortable lumps and bumps underneath one's back, so that I could never get comfortable all night. The wind howled round our flimsy tents, and I do not think anyone, except perhaps Mallory, got any sleep that night. In the morning we were all suffering from bad headaches, due to the airlessness of these little tents, and I am sure that anyone camping at high altitudes ought to have a much larger type of tent in which to sleep if he is to avoid headaches. We blessed the early morning sun when it appeared and began to unfreeze us. I noticed then that our faces and hands were all a curious blue colour in the morning, due to what is called, I believe, cyanosis of the blood. With much difficulty Wheeler made us a little tea, which if not drunk at once, froze; Mallory thawed out some sardines which had all been frozen solid. There was luckily less wind than during the night, and as the sun rose higher, we all became more alive. The coolies, too, were at first all torpid and complained of bad headaches, but on getting into the fresh air, out of their small and stuffy tents, the headaches rapidly passed away. After consultation, we decided that there was no object—in fact, that it would be dangerous—for the whole party to go on, so we decided that it would be best for the expert Alpine climbers only, together with a few picked coolies, to attempt the Chang La. If weather conditions were favourable, they might, we thought, see how high they could get on Mount Everest itself. We therefore quickly sorted out and divided up the stores, and after seeing Mallory, Bullock and Wheeler off, unpitched our own tents, being satisfied that we could be of no use by remaining where we were, and that it would be best that we should return to our 20,000-foot camp and carry down with us as many stores as we could. We accomplished this without any difficulty, and arrived back during the course of the afternoon. The contrast here was extraordinary. We seemed to be in a totally different climate, and our larger tents and camp beds appeared to us to be the height of luxury. We spent a very comfortable night in spite of 22° of frost, and all slept soundly after our exertions, though once or twice during the night I was awakened by rats gnawing at the food which had been left out on the boxes in my tent. One of the coolies also started to say his prayers in a loud tone of voice at 1 a.m., but after a few winged words he relapsed into silence.
The next day was delightfully warm and sunny, though there had been during the night a good deal of lightning towards the South. The snow could be seen whirling off the crest of Mount Everest during the morning, and in the course of the afternoon the wind grew much stronger, and blew huge clouds of snow off the slopes of the mountain, and from all the surrounding ridges. We could see great wisps of snow being blown off the pass that we had just left, so that the climbing party must have been having a very cold time in their new camp. In the evening there was a curious false sunset in the East with fine purple and orange rays, while as usual the Kama and the Kharta Valleys were filled with a sea of cloud. Here, however, we seemed to be above and beyond the reach of the clouds. Next night there was again constant lightning to the South and 23° of frost, but the weather kept fine and sunny. On climbing a snow-covered hill to the West of the camp, about 21,000 feet, I had some superb views of Everest and Makalu with their appalling cliffs and beautifully-fluted snow slopes. A strong North-westerly gale still continued in the upper regions of the air above 22,000 feet, and every ridge of Everest was smothered with clouds of blown snow. I had a pleasant glissade down steep snow slopes back to the camp, where the climate was delicious and where I could bask in the sun at the entrance of my tent with a sun temperature of 173° Fahr. Earlier in the season we had often recorded temperatures of 195° and 197° Fahr. in the sun with the black bulb thermometer. During the afternoon we were able with our glasses to see black specks appearing on the top of the Lhakpa La. These were the Alpine climbers and their coolies returning after their strenuous efforts on Mount Everest. We watched them with the greatest interest descending the glacier and wondered how far they had been successful. They all arrived back safely in the course of the evening, having been extraordinarily lucky in not having had any casualties or frost-bites in spite of the Arctic gales. Mallory will, however, tell of their adventures in another chapter.
CHAPTER IX
THE RETURN TO KHARTA BY THE KAMA VALLEY
Winter was now rapidly approaching. Every night was growing steadily colder, and we were all anxious to get down to lower altitudes. Every one had been feeling the strain of life at these high altitudes. It had been, however, a great relief to us that all the party had got back to the 20,000-foot camp in safety, and that we had had no cases of sickness or frost-bite. The coolies had throughout worked most willingly and to the best of their ability. They had been well supplied with boots and socks, warm clothing of all kinds, cap comforters and fur gloves, as well as blankets, and for those who had slept at the higher camps, eiderdown sleeping-bags had been provided capable of holding four or five. Here at the 20,000-foot camp we did not have to depend on Primus stoves or spirit lamps, as while we were waiting at the advanced base camp we had daily sent up coolies with loads of wood for our future use, and even during our stay here the coolies who had been left behind under Gyalzen Kazi had been sending up further loads. We now divided our party into two: Mallory, Bullock, Raeburn and Morshead were to be responsible for taking all the stores back to Kharta, and for this purpose we had arranged with Chheten Wangdi and the Kharta Jongpen for a number of Tibetan coolies to help in the work of removal. The remainder of us, that is to say, Wollaston, Wheeler and myself, were to cross over a snow pass and return to Kharta via the Kama Valley. Wheeler was anxious to do this in order to complete his survey work, for up till now he had been unable to visit the Kama Valley. Wollaston had already seen the lower parts of the Kama Valley, but was very anxious to see the upper end, particularly after my descriptions of the scenery and the Alpine flowers that were to be met with there.