CHAPTER XIII
THE NORTHERN APPROACH—continued
The reader will gather from these notes some idea of the whole nature of our problem and the subjects of our most anxious thoughts. The camp established on June 25 lasted us until July 8. Meanwhile the idea was growing, the vision of Everest as a structural whole, and of the glaciers and lower summits to North and West. This idea resembled the beginning of an artist's painting, a mere rough design at the start, but growing by steps of clearer definition in one part and another towards the precise completion of a whole. For us the mountain parts defined themselves in the mind as the result of various expeditions. We set out to gain a point of view with particular questions to be answered; partial answers and a new point of view stimulated more curiosity, other questions, and again the necessity to reach a particular place whence we imagined they might best be answered. And at the same time another aim had to be kept in mind. The coolies, though mountain-men, were not mountaineers. They had to be trained in the craft of mountaineering, in treading safely on snow or ice in dangerous places, in climbing easy rocks and most particularly in the use of rope and ice-axe—and this not merely for our foremost needs, but to ensure that, whenever we were able to launch an assault upon Mount Everest, and all would be put to the most exhausting test, they should have that reserve strength of a practised balance and ordered method on which security must ultimately depend.
On July 1 I set out with five coolies to reach the head of the great cwm under the North face of Mount Everest. The snow on the upper glacier was soft and made very heavy going. Bad weather came up and in a race against the clouds we were beaten and failed to find out what happened to the glacier at its Western head under the North-west arête. My view of the col lying between Everest and the North Peak (Changtse)—the North Col as we now began to call it, or in Tibetan Chang La—was also unsatisfactory; but I saw enough to make out a broken glacier running up eastwards towards the gap with steep and uninviting snow slopes under the pass. I was now sure that before attempting to reach this col from the Rongbuk Glacier, if ever we determined to reach it, we should have to reconnoitre the other side and if possible find a more hopeful alternative; moreover, from a nearer inspection of the slopes below the North-west arête I was convinced that they could be chosen for an attack only as a last resort; if anything were to be attempted here, we must find a better way up from the East.
I had vaguely hoped to bring the party home sufficiently fresh to climb again on the following day. But the fatigue of going in deep snow for three hours up the glacier, though we had been no higher than 19,100 feet, had been too great, and again we had noticed only a slight relief in coming down; it was a tired party that dragged back over the glacier crossing and into camp at 6.15 p.m., thirteen hours after starting.
July 3 was devoted to an expedition designed chiefly to take coolies on to steeper ground and at the same time to explore the small glacier which we had observed above us on the first day to the North-west; by following up the terrace from our present camp we could now come to the snout of it in half an hour or less. After working up the glacier we made for a snow col between two high peaks. On reaching a bergschrund we found above its upper lip hard ice, which continued no doubt to the ridge. While Bullock looked after the party below I cut a staircase slanting up to a small island of rock 100 feet away; from that security I began to bring the party up. We had now the interesting experience of seeing our coolies for the first time on real hard ice; it was not a convincing spectacle, as they made their way up with the ungainly movements of beginners; and though the last man never left the secure anchorage of the bergschrund, the proportion of two Sahibs to five coolies seemed lamentably weak, and when one man slipped from the steep steps at an awkward corner, though Bullock was able to hold him, it was clearly time to retire. But the descent was a better performance; the coolies were apt pupils, and we felt that with practice on the glacier the best of them should become safe mountaineers. And on this day we had reached a height of 21,000 feet[8] from our camp at 17,500 feet. I had the great satisfaction of observing that one could cut steps quite happily at this altitude. The peak lying to the North of the col, which had been our objective on this day, attracted our attention by its position; we thought it should have a commanding view over all this complicated country, and after a day in camp very pleasantly spent in receiving a visit from Colonel Howard-Bury and Dr. Heron, set out on July 5 determined to reach its summit. The start was made at 4.15 a.m. in the first light, an hour earlier than usual; we proceeded up the stone shoots immediately above our camp and after a halt for photography at the glorious moment of sunrise had made 2,500 feet and reached the high shoulder above us at 7 a.m. This place was connected with our peak by a snowy col which had now to be reached by a long traverse over a South-facing slope. Though the angle was not steep very little snow was lying here, and where the ice was peeping through it was occasionally necessary to cut steps. I felt it was a satisfactory performance to reach the col at 9.30 a.m.; the coolies had come well, though one of them was burdened with the quarter-plate camera; but evidently their efforts had already tired them. Ahead of us was a long, curving snow arête, slightly corniced and leading ultimately to a rocky shoulder. We thought that once this shoulder was gained the summit would be within our reach. Shortly after we went on two coolies dropped out, and by 11.30 a.m. the rest had given up the struggle. It was fortunate that they fell out here and not later, for they were able to make their way down in our tracks and regain the col below in safety. The angle steepened as we went on very slowly now, but still steadily enough, until we reached the rocks, a frail slatey structure with short perpendicular pitches. From the shoulder onwards my memories are dim. I have the impression of a summit continually receding from the position imagined by sanguine hopes and of a task growing constantly more severe, of steeper sides, of steps to be cut, of a dwindling pace, more frequent little halts standing where we were, and of breathing quicker but no less deep and always conscious; the respiratory engine had to be kept running as the indispensable source of energy, and ever as we went on more work was required of it. At last we found ourselves without an alternative under an icy wall; but the ice was a delusion; in the soft flaky substance smothering rocks behind it we had strength left to cut a way up to the crest again, and after a few more steps were on the summit itself.
It was now 2.45 p.m. The aneroid used by Bullock, which, after comparison with one of Howard-Bury's was supposed to read low, registered 23,050 feet,[9] and we puffed out our chests as we examined it, computing that we had risen from our camp over 5,500 feet. The views both earlier in the day and at this moment were of the highest interest. To the East we had confirmed our impression of the North Peak as having a high ridge stretching eastwards and forming the side of whatever valley connected with the Arun River in this direction; the upper parts of Everest's North face had been clearly visible for a long time, and we could now be certain that they lay back at no impossibly steep angle, more particularly above the North col and up to the North-east shoulder. All we had seen immediately to the West of the mountain had been of the greatest interest, and had suggested the idea that the crinkled summit there might be connected not directly with Mount Everest itself, but only by way of the South peak. And finally we now saw the connections of all that lay around us with the two great triangulated peaks away to the West, Gyachung Kang, 25,990 and Cho-Uyo, 26,870 feet. While complaining of the clouds which had come up as usual during the morning to spoil our view we were not dissatisfied with the expansion of our knowledge and we were elated besides to be where we were. But our situation was far from perfectly secure. The ascent had come very near to exhausting our strength; for my part I felt distinctly mountain-sick; we might reflect that we should not be obliged to cut more steps, but we should have to proceed downwards with perfect accuracy of balance and a long halt was desirable. However, the clouds were now gathering about us, dark thunder-clouds come up from the North and threatening; it was clear we must not wait; after fifteen minutes on the summit we started down at three o'clock. Fortune favoured us. The wind was no more than a breeze; a few flakes of snow were unnoticed in our flight; the temperature was mild; the storm's malice was somehow dissipated with no harm done. We rejoined the coolies before five o'clock and were back in our camp at 7.15 p.m., happy to have avoided a descent in the dark.
Our next plan, based on our experience of this long mountain ridge, was to practise the coolies in the use of crampons on hard snow and ice. But snow fell heavily on the night of the 6th; we deferred our project. It was the beginning of worse weather; the monsoon was breaking in earnest. And though crampons afterwards came up to our camps wherever we went they were not destined to help us, and in the event were never used.