We rested for a few minutes before going on. Those few minutes decided the issue of the day. So far, I had not had the leisure to consider my companion’s condition. His climbing was all I had had eyes for. How was he getting on? Was he all right without the rope? Was he keeping up? But now I saw that Geoffrey Bruce, like Tejbir, had driven his body almost to the uttermost. A little more would spell breakdown. The realisation came like a blow. My emotions are eternally my own, and I will not put on paper a cold-blooded, psychological analysis of the cataclysmic change they underwent, but will merely indicate the initial and final mental positions. Reasoned determination, confidence, faith in the possibility of achievement, hope—all had acquired cumulative force as we made our way higher and higher; the two nights’ struggle at our high camp had not dimmed our enthusiasm, nor had the collapse of Tejbir, rude shock and source of grave anxiety though it undoubtedly was. Never for a moment did I think we would fail; progress was steady, the summit was there before us; a little longer, and we should be on the top. And then—suddenly, unexpectedly, the vision was gone.... I thought quickly. I could have gone on, the time having long passed since I possessed no confidence in my own factor of safety or needed a rope. But to have done so would have been unfair to Geoffrey Bruce who with his fewer years was not so inured to hardship as I was. We did, however, proceed for a few yards. This made my only possible course of action even more obvious.[20] As evidence of my companion’s indomitable spirit I would add that, when my decision to return was announced, he clearly voiced his chagrin.
According to the aneroid barometer I carried, we had reached an altitude of at least 27,300 feet.[21] The point we had gained may be easily recognised. We were standing inside the bend of a conspicuous inverted “V” of snow, immediately below the great belt of reddish-yellow granite which cleaves almost horizontally through the greenish, grey-black rock of which the summit and north face of Mount Everest are composed. With the exception of the summit of Everest, nowhere could we see a single mountain-top as high as our own lofty perch. The highest mountain visible was Cho Uyo, which is just short of 27,000 feet. We were well above it, and could look across it into the dense clouds beyond. The great West Peak of Everest, one of the most beautiful objects to be seen from down in the Rongbuk Valley, was hidden, but we knew that our standpoint was nearly two thousand feet above it. We could look across into clouds which lay at some undefined distance behind the Shoulder, a clear indication that we were only a little, if anything, below its level. Pumori, an imposing, ice-bound pyramid, some 23,000 feet high, I sought at first in vain. So far were we above it that it had sunk into an insignificant little ice-hump by the side of the Rongbuk Glacier. Most of the other landmarks were blotted out by masses of ominous, yellow-hued clouds, swept from the west in the wake of an angry storm-wind. Though 1,700 feet below, we were well within half a mile of the summit, so close, indeed, that we could distinguish individual stones on a little patch of scree lying just below the highest point.
But it was useless to think of continuing. It was too plain that, if we were to persist in climbing on, even if only for another five hundred feet, we should not both get back alive. The decision to retreat once taken, no time was lost, and, fearing lest another accidental interruption in the oxygen supply might lead to a slip on the part of either of us, we roped together. It was midday. At first we returned in our tracks, but later aimed at striking the ridge between the Shoulder and the North Col, at a point above where we had left it in the morning. This enabled us to find level going where the order of advance was of little importance, and I could go ahead, keeping my companion on a short, taut rope. The clear weather was gone. Once back on the ridge, we plunged down the easy, broken rocks through thick mists, driven past us from the west by a violent wind. For one small mercy we were thankful—no snow fell.
On regaining our high camp, we looked inside the tent and found Tejbir snugly wrapped up in all three sleeping-bags, sleeping the deep sleep of exhaustion. Hearing the voices of porters on their way up to meet us, we woke him up, telling him to await their arrival and to go down with them. Bruce and I then proceeded on our way, met the ascending porters and passed on, greatly cheered by their bright welcomes and encouraging smiles. But the long descent, coming as it did on the top of a hard day’s work, soon began to find out our weakness. We were deplorably tired and could no longer move ahead with our accustomed vigour. Knees did not always bend and unbend as required. At times they gave way altogether and forced us, staggering, to sit down. But eventually we reached the broken snows of the North Col, and at 4 p.m. arrived in the camp, where we found Crawford and Wakefield who, with very natural curiosity, had come up to have a look at the col and spend the night there. Noel had already been three days up here on rather short rations, and the fuel and food supplies were consequently much depleted. In the circumstances, though we would fain have passed the night in the North Col Camp, as did the four climbers after the first attempt, we were compelled to face a further descent that afternoon to Camp III. A craving for food and rest, to the lack of which our weakness was mainly due, was all that animated us; and, before continuing the descent, this craving had to be satisfied, even if only to a small extent. A cup of hot tea and a small tin of spaghetti were forthcoming, and even this little nourishment so refreshed and renewed our strength that three-quarters of an hour later we were ready to set off for Camp III.
Mount Everest from the North Col, showing route.
1. Site of first party’s camp. 2. Site of our camp. 3. Point gained by Norton, Mallory and Somervell. 4. Point gained by Geoffrey Bruce and Finch. 5. The Summit.
Monsoon clouds.