On July 8 we moved up with a fresh party of seven coolies, taking only our lightest tents and no more than was necessary for three nights, in the hope that by two energetic expeditions we should reach the Western cwm which, we suspected, must exist on the far side of the North-west arête, and learn enough to found more elaborate plans for exploring this side of the mountain should they turn out to be necessary. Again we were fortunate in finding a good camping ground, better even than the first, for the floor of this shelf was grassy and soft, and as we were looking South across the West Rongbuk Glacier we had the sun late as well as early. But we were not completely happy. A Mummery tent may be well enough in fair weather, though even then its low roof suggests a recumbent attitude; it makes a poor dining-room, even for two men, and is a cold shelter from snow. Moreover, the cold and draught discouraged our Primus stove—but I leave to the imagination of those who have learned by experience the nausea that comes from the paraffin fumes and one's dirty hands and all the mess that may be. It was chiefly a question of incompetence, no doubt, but there was no consolation in admitting that. In the morning, with the weather still very thick and the snow lying about us we saw the error of our ways. Is it not a first principle of mountaineering to be as comfortable as possible as long as one can? And how long should we require for these operations in such weather? It was clear that our Second Advanced Camp must be organised on a more permanent basis. On the 9th therefore I went down to the base and moved it up on the following day so as to be within reach of our present position by one long march. The new place greatly pleased me; it was much more sheltered than the lower site and the tents were pitched on flat turf where a clear spring flowed out from the hillside and only a quarter of an hour below the end of the glacier. Meanwhile Bullock brought up the Whymper tents and more stores from the First Advanced Camp, which was now established as a half-way house with our big 80-foot tent standing in solemn grandeur to protect all that remained there. On July 10 I was back at the Second Advanced Camp and felt satisfied that the new arrangements, and particularly the presence of our cook, would give us a fair measure of comfort.
But we were still unable to move next day. The snowfall during the night was the heaviest we had yet seen and continued into the next day. Probably the coolies were not sorry for a rest after some hard work; and we reckoned to make a long expedition so soon as the weather should clear. Towards evening on the 10th the clouds broke. Away to the South-west of us and up the glacier was the barrier range on the frontier of Nepal, terminated by one great mountain, Pumori, over 24,000 feet high. To the West Rongbuk Glacier they present the steepest slopes on which snow can lie; the crest above these slopes is surprisingly narrow and the peaks which it joins are fantastically shaped. This group of mountains, always beautiful and often in the highest degree impressive, was now to figure for our eyes as the principal in that oft-repeated drama which seems always to be a first night, fresh and full of wonder whenever we are present to watch it. The clinging curtains were rent and swirled aside and closed again, lifted and lowered and flung wide at last; sunlight broke through with sharp shadows and clean edges revealed—and we were there to witness the amazing spectacle. Below the terrible mountains one white smooth island rose from the quiet sea of ice and was bathed in the calm full light of the Western sun before the splendour failed.
With hopes inspired by the clearing views of this lovely evening, we started at 5.30 a.m. on July 12 to follow the glacier round to the South and perhaps enter the Western cwm. The glacier was a difficult problem. It looked easy enough to follow up the medial moraine to what we called the Island, a low mountain pushed out from the frontier ridge into the great sea of ice. But the way on Southwards from there would have been a gamble with the chances of success against us. We decided to cross the glacier directly to the South with a certainty that once we had reached the moraine on the other side we should have a clear way before us. It was exhilarating to set out again under a clear sky, and we were delighted to think that a large part of this task was accomplished when the sun rose full of warmth and cheerfulness. The far side was cut off by a stream of white ice, so narrow here that we expected with a little good fortune to get through it in perhaps half an hour. We entered it by a frozen stream leading into a bay with high white towers and ridges above us. A side door led through into a further bay which took us in the confidence of success almost through the maze. With some vigorous blows we cut our way up the final wall and then found ourselves on a crest overlooking the moraine with a sheer ice-precipice of about 100 feet below us.
The only hope was to come down again and work round to the right. Some exciting climbing and much hard work brought us at length to the foot of the cliffs and on the right side. The performance had taken us two and a half hours and it was now nearly ten o'clock. Clouds had already come up to obscure the mountains, and from the point of view of a prolonged exploration the day was clearly lost. Our course now was to make the best of it and yet get back so early to camp that we could set forth again on the following day. We had the interest, after following the moraine to the corner where the glacier bends Southwards, of making our way into the middle of the ice and finding out how unpleasant it can be to walk on a glacier melted everywhere into little valleys and ridges and covered with fresh snow. We got back at 3 p.m.
Summit of Mount Everest and North Peak
from the Island, West Rongbuk Glacier.
On July 13, determined to make good, we started at 4.15 a.m. With the knowledge gained on the previous day and the use of 250 feet of spare rope we were able to find our way through the ice pinnacles and reached the far moraine in less than an hour and a half; and we had the further good fortune when we took to the snow to find it now in such good condition that we were able to walk on the surface without using our snow-shoes. As we proceeded up the slopes where the snow steepened the weather began to thicken and we halted at 8 a.m. in a thick mist with a nasty wind and some snow falling. It was a cold halt. We were already somewhat disillusioned about our glacier, which seemed to be much more narrow than was to be expected if it were really a high-road to the Western cwm, and as we went on with the wind blowing the snow into our faces so that nothing could be clearly distinguished we had the sense of a narrowing place and a perception of the even surface being broken up into large crevasses on one side and the other. At 9.30 we could go no further. For a few hundred yards we had been traversing a slope which rose above us on our left, and now coming out on to a little spur we stood peering down through the mist and knew ourselves to be on the edge of a considerable precipice. Not a single feature of the landscape around us was even faintly visible in the cloud. For a time we stayed on with the dim hope of better things and then reluctantly retired, baffled and bewildered.
Where had we been? It was impossible to know; but at least it was certain there was no clear way to the West side of Everest. We could only suppose that we had reached a col on the frontier of Nepal.
A further disappointment awaited us when we reached camp at 1 p.m. I had made a simple plan to ensure our supply of gobar[10] and rations from the base camp. The supplies had not come up and it was not the sort of weather to be without a fire for cooking.