Mount Everest from Camp III.
Facing page 306.
While waiting at Darjeeling for the arrival of the apparatus, I had turned the question of masks over in my mind and had formed the germ of an idea for another pattern which I intended to construct in the event of the others proving unsatisfactory. The wherewithal to make the new mask had been easily procured. A few toy football bladders and glass “T” tubes were all I needed. With these materials and odd bits of rubber tubing, I was able to construct a new mask, if indeed it could be so termed, by means of which oxygen could be mixed with the air inhaled by the climber without loss on exhalation and, at the same time, without any appreciable extra work being thrown upon the lungs. The new device, as so many useful devices are, was almost ridiculously simple. A rubber tube connected the oxygen delivery orifice of the apparatus with the mouth of the climber. Into this rubber tube was let a glass “T” tube, the third opening of which was connected to a football bladder. On inhaling, the oxygen flowed through the rubber tube into the mouth of the climber, there mixing with the indrawn air. On exhaling, the climber had to close the end of the tube in his mouth by biting on it, and thus prevent the flow and consequent waste of oxygen. During this latter operation the oxygen, which was still flowing from the apparatus, was stored up in the expanding football bladder. On re-inhaling, the climber simply released the pressure of his teeth upon the tube, and the bladder, collapsing slowly, gently forced the oxygen into his mouth where it mixed with the inhaled air. The correct closing and opening of the rubber tube by alternately biting and releasing the pressure of the teeth upon it became, after a few minutes’ practice, a perfectly automatic, subconscious process. The success of this simple mask pleased me greatly; without it, no really effective use could have been made of our oxygen supplies. Oxygen would have been misjudged as useless, and the solution of the problem of climbing Mount Everest would have been as distant as ever.
Camp III soon became the scene of much activity. Examination of the oxygen cylinders revealed that their contents were still intact; so we thereupon set to work with hacksaws, pliers, soldering iron and so forth to repair the damaged apparatus. Eventually two of these were made to function satisfactorily and, later on, two more. Owing to lack of accommodation, the work had to be carried out in the open, so that our hours of labour were limited to those of sunshine; in the shade, the cold was so intense that the handling of metal with bare hands was impracticable. Once the work was interrupted by a snowstorm, and, while waiting for the fresh snow covering up workshop, instruments, apparatus and all to evaporate, Geoffrey Bruce and I put on skis and pottered around on the glacier—quite an exhilarating pastime at these altitudes. Curiously enough, it was only on snow lying in the sun that good running could be had. I found that in the shade the snow was so cold as to exert a sticky, dragging effect upon the skis, almost similar to that which one might expect with sand. At nights the temperature occasionally fell very low; 62° F. of frost were recorded.
Sketch Map of Mount Everest.
Approximate scale, 1 inch to a mile. All heights in feet.
In order to test thoroughly the repaired apparatus, we went for a number of trial trips. One of these, over to the Rapiu la, a depression at the foot of the north-east ridge of Everest, was of particular interest to me. The valleys to the south of this pass were filled with great, rolling banks of cloud which almost wholly concealed the view. But the north-east ridge of Everest as far as the Shoulder was quite clear, and to my amazement I at once saw that this ridge would probably afford an excellent, perhaps even the best, line of approach to the Shoulder. I remembered now that Mr. Harold Raeburn, the most experienced climber of the 1921 expedition, had already pronounced upon this ridge as affording a practicable route to the summit. We have only to compare its advantages and disadvantages with those of the North Col route up the north ridge to see how sound the judgment of this veteran pioneer was. Take first of all the latter line of ascent. To the observer from Camp III, it is obvious that the approach to the North Col, if a line of ascent which is to be safe under any conditions is to be taken, particularly after falls of fresh snow, must be a laborious one, calling for an experienced ice-man with a wide knowledge of snow conditions. On the north ridge as far as the Shoulder, it is equally clear to the observer, both from the base and from Camp III, that the climber must be continually exposed to the full blast of the prevailing west wind—more appropriately, perhaps, termed gale—which, combined with intense cold, must prove an even more formidable enemy than mere altitude or rarefaction of the atmosphere. On the north-east ridge, on the other hand, the way from the Rapiu la right up to the Shoulder is perfectly straightforward, no matter what the conditions of the snow may be. Immediately below the Shoulder are some prominent rocky teeth. They look rather terrible, but from the Rapiu la, even had I not already known that the stratification of the mountain dips towards the north, I could see that they might be turned without serious difficulty and the Shoulder gained. But the supreme advantage of this route lies in the fact that it is practically always free from wind. Largely owing to its direction, the wind on the north side of the mountain fails to sweep over the north-east ridge as it does over the north, and, furthermore, it is more or less balanced by the up-draught from the south. In view of the facts, however, that the camp on the North Col had already been established, and that the first party had, as far as we knew, even established a camp much higher up on the north ridge, the recognition of Raeburn’s great discovery had come too late.