The fourth day began with good weather once more. The two men came to a cut in the ridge and Simpson started to climb down a face of sheer ice. He hammered in one of his ice axes and didn’t like the sound it made. As he pulled one out to get a better contact, the other gave way without warning and he fell.
He hit hard, his shinbone going through his knee and into the upper leg. As Yates climbed down, he tried to stand on it, appalled at the pain and grating of the bones. The two men looked at each other in desperation. Simpson expected his friend to leave him. There was no other choice—a broken leg so far from civilization meant that he was dead. Instead, Yates stayed and they discussed a plan to lower Simpson on two ropes, knotted together. Yates would dig himself a seat in the snow and lower Simpson the first 150 feet. The knot wouldn’t pass through the lowering device, so Simpson would dig in until Yates had retied it and could lower away once more.
The laborious process began, with Simpson facedown. His broken leg jarred constantly, but they had to be fast as neither their endurance nor the light would last for long. Yates’s snow seats crumbled quickly in the time it took to lower his friend. As the hours passed, a full storm hit the mountain with wind chill of –80 degrees. Darkness came upon them and both men were exhausted. They had no gas to make tea or get warm. They continued on in the dark, one rope at a time.
Simpson felt the powder snow change to hard ice and called out to stop. His voice wasn’t heard and he slipped over the edge of an overhang, dangling below it. He couldn’t reach a surface and, crucially, was unable to take his weight off the rope. Above him in the dark, Yates waited alone and freezing, with the wind roaring around him.
At first, Simpson attempted to climb back up the rope using a “prussic loop,” a knot that locks solid once pressure is applied. He needed two and managed to fix the first with frozen hands. The second one escaped his numb fingers and he watched it fall with his last hopes. He waited then to drag Yates to his death.
Yates waited and waited as his seat began to crumble under the unrelenting weight. All he could do was hang on until he began to slide down. He remembered he had a penknife and made a decision in an instant, using it to cut the rope. The rope snaked away and below the overhang, Simpson fell into darkness, losing consciousness. Yates dug himself a snow cave out of the storm and waited for daylight.
Simpson awoke in pitch blackness on a narrow slope, sliding. He had fallen more than a hundred feet into a crevasse, ending up on an ice ledge next to another drop into infinite darkness. He screwed in an ice screw anchor very quickly.
His helmet light revealed the rope going up to a small hole eighty feet above. He thought Yates was on the end of it, dead. Simpson thought the rope would come tight on Yates’ body. He pulled it to him and it fell. When he saw the end, he knew it had been cut and guessed what had happened. He was pleased Yates was alive, but realized his own chances of survival had dropped to almost nothing.
In the dark, he turned off the light to save the batteries. Alone, he despaired.
Yates continued to climb down the next day, feeling desperately guilty about cutting the rope. He lowered himself past the overhang and the crevasse, convinced that Simpson was dead. He went on numbly, following tracks back to the base camp that he had made with Simpson only days before.
When no one answered his shouts, Simpson tried to climb out of his crevasse, but eighty feet of sheer ice was impossible with only one working leg. He didn’t believe anyone would ever find him. His only course seemed to be to sit and wait to die—or to lower himself into the crevasse to see if there was another way out in the darkness below. He made this terrifying decision, but didn’t put a knot on the end of the rope. He decided that if he reached the end and there was nothing beneath him, he would rather fall than be stuck and slowly freeze.
Joe lowered himself eighty feet and found he was in an hourglass-shaped crevasse. He reached the pinch point and found a crust of snow there that had a chance of taking his weight. He heard cracking and movement beneath him, but there was light nearby, at the top of a slope he thought he could climb, bad leg or not. This was the way out.
Though every jarring step brought him close to fainting, he made it onto the mountainside to see a blue sky and bright sunshine. He lay there and laughed with relief at his deliverance.
After the initial exhilaration, he looked further down and realized that he still had miles of glacier to cross as well as a treacherous maze of crevasses. He thought at first that he couldn’t do it, but there was no point in simply sitting and waiting. He could see Yates’ tracks and knew that they would lead him through the crevasse field.
He made progress sitting down, with his legs flat on the snow and pushing himself along backward. Snow and high winds came again, and he kept going as darkness fell, terrified at losing sight of Simon’s tracks.
The tracks had gone by the morning of the sixth day, but Simpson struggled on, reaching at last the jumbled boulders that meant the end of the glacier. He wrapped his sleeping mat around the broken leg, using his ice axes to try and support himself over the broken ground. He fell at almost every step and each fall was like breaking the leg again. Somehow, he kept going. He ate snow for water, but there was never enough to quench a brutal thirst. He could hear streams running under the rocks, but maddeningly he could not find them. He pushed himself on and on until he collapsed and lay looking at the sky as it grew dark once more.
As Day 7 dawned, he could barely move at first. He believed he was going to die, but kept crawling. He found a trickle of water and drank liters of it, feeling it make him stronger. Despite this, he was becoming delirious.
Simpson reached the lake by the camp by four in the afternoon of the seventh day. He knew the camp was in a valley at the far end, but he had no idea if Yates would be there. He tried to make faster progress, plagued by the thought that he would get there too late.
Clouds came down as the day progressed, and by the time he looked into the valley, it was white with mist. He lay there for a long time, delirious and hallucinating. Eventually, he moved on as night fell and it began to snow once more.
He dragged himself through the latrine area of the camp and the sharp smell acted like smelling salts, bringing him back. He began to call for Yates, and when no one came at first, he believed he had been left behind.
Yet Simon Yates had stayed and he woke as he heard his name called. When he heard his name again, he went out and began to search. He found his friend a couple of hundred yards from the camp and dragged him back to the tent. Yates could not believe it. He had cut the rope and seen the drop and the crevasse. He knew Simpson could not have survived.
As Joe Simpson became conscious, he sought to ease his friend’s guilt. His first words were,
“Don’t worry, I would have done the same.”
Adapted from Touching the Void by Joe Simpson, published by HarperCollins.
Grinding an Italic Nib
ALTHOUGH THE PEN we used is an expensive model, this should absolutely not be tried with a valued pen. There is a reasonable chance of destroying the nib completely and the nib is usually the most expensive part to replace. The rest, after all, is just a tube.
The first thing to know is that almost all italic nibs are hand-ground. In theory, there is no reason why you should not be able to grind a nib to suit you, with a little common sense and care.
Before you begin, it is a good idea to get hold of an italic nib and try writing with it. The writing style is quite different and they tend to be “scratchier.” It is extremely satisfying knowing you have ground your own nib—and the handwriting is attractive.
Picture 1 shows a standard nib. Picture 2 would be best suited to a left-handed writer. Picture 3 is suitable for both and 4 is best suited for right-handers. It’s difficult to change from one to the other if you are not happy with the result—which is why you should try a store-bought italic nib first.
We used a sharpening gig—a useful little gadget that helps to h
old chisels at the required angle. It can be done completely by hand, but no matter how you choose to do it, stop often, dip the nib in ink, and try it out. Do not be discouraged by scratching at this stage. A fine sharpening stone will take longer, but as delicate as this is, it is probably a good idea.
You should arrive somewhere near the nib on the left—if you are left-handed. It was identical to the nib on the right before grinding. Attempts at writing with the new angle were initially discouraging. Very fine sandpaper (or wet and dry paper) was needed to smooth away roughness and dust from the grindstone. It is a matter of personal preference how far you smooth the corners, but I found it helped the easy flow of ink.
NOTE: This is not italic or copperplate lettering. Those alphabets have to be learned, though they are based on the wide and narrow strokes of an italic nib.
Navigation
THE FIRST THING TO understand is that a compass points north because it is magnetic and the earth has a magnetic field caused by the rotation of a liquid metal core. The magnetic north pole happens to correspond reasonably well with the true pole—but they are not the same. Magnetic south is off Antarctica and can be sailed over. Magnetic north is near the Canada/Alaska border. They are both very deep within the core of the planet and move over time.
If you are interested, a compass will actually jam on the magnetic poles as it tries to point either “up” or “down”—90 degrees to the surface. A gyroscopic compass is invaluable in such circumstances—that is, a gyro that has been set to point north and then holds its position regardless of changes in direction. Pilots find gyroscopic compasses invaluable. The International Space Station (ISS) has thirteen of them.
Naval charts plot the lines of “magnetic variation” across the globe, showing whether the variation from true north is to the east or west and increasing or decreasing. As you can imagine, this is crucial for navigation. A compass in New York will be approximately 14° W off true north. If you were plotting a course north, you would have to subtract 14 degrees from your compass direction. If the difference was 14° E, 14 degrees would have to be added.
The compass is the universal means of finding your position anywhere on the surface of the planet. The earth rotates east, so in both hemispheres, the sun rises in the east and sets in the west. It is true, however, that water swirls the other way down drains and toilets in the southern hemisphere.
The figure below shows the thirty-two points of the compass. In the northern hemisphere when the sun is at its highest point in the sky, it will be due south. In the southern hemisphere this noonday point will be due north.
KEY: Read the word “by” for the symbol –, so N–E is north by east.
The hemisphere can be indicated by the movement of the shadow cast by the sun: clockwise in the north and counterclockwise in the south. This shadow can also be a guide to direction.
SHADOW STICK
One hour before noon, place a three-foot stick upright on flat ground and mark where the tip of the shadow falls—point “a.”
At one hour past noon, mark where the tip of the new shadow falls—point “b.” Draw a line from “a” to “b” and you have an east–west line, “a” being west. This will only work when you take noon as your center point. When you have your east–west line, bisect it at right angles and you have a north–south line. With “a” on your right and “b” on your left, you are facing south. This works in both hemispheres. Feel free to heat your brains up trying to explain why.
FINDING DIRECTION WITH A WATCH
A watch with two hands can tell the direction. It must have the correct local time (excluding daylight saving: this is when you put the clocks back and forward—“spring forward and fall back”—so in summer you should subtract an hour to use this technique). The nearer to the Equator you are, the less accurate this is.
In the northern hemisphere, hold the watch horizontally. If it’s summer, wind it back an hour; if it’s winter, wind it forward an hour. Point the hour hand at the sun. Bisect the angle between hour hand and 12 to give you a north–south line. In the southern hemisphere point 12 at the sun, and the midpoint between 12 and the hour hand will give a north–south line.
Northern
Southern
NEEDLE COMPASS
Get a piece of ferrous (meaning iron) wire—a sewing needle is ideal—and stroke it in one direction repeatedly against silk. This will magnetize it. Suspend the needle on a length of thread and it will point north.
Stroking the wire with a magnet in one direction will work better than silk. This aligns the atoms in the needle. Heating the needle also works, though not as reliably. Try it and see.
If you have no thread then you can also float the magnetized needle on a piece of tissue paper or bark on the surface of water and it will turn to indicate north.
An old-style razor blade can also be used as a compass needle. Rub it against the palm of your hand (carefully!) to magnetize it, then suspend it to get the north–south line.
Use as many methods as you can to get your bearings, then mark out your compass, check all your readings against the sun, and keep your needle magnetized.
DIRECTION BY THE HEAVENS
To find north in the night sky you need to find Polaris, the Pole Star. This is discussed in the Astronomy chapter. There are other indicators in the night sky that can be used. The rising of the moon can give a rough east–west reference. If the moon rises before the sun has set, the illuminated side will be on the west. If it rises after midnight, the illuminated side will be on the east.
Stars themselves can also be used to indicate direction. If you cannot find Polaris or the Southern Cross, get two sticks, one shorter than the other. Stick them in the earth and sight along them as shown to any star except the Pole Star. From the star’s apparent movement, you can work out the direction you are facing!
If the star you are lined up on appears to be rising, you are facing east. If it appears to be setting (or falling), you are facing west. If the star seems to move right then you are facing south and if it moves left, you are facing north. These are only approximate directions and will be reversed in the southern hemisphere.
Being able to find your bearings at any time of day and night is a pretty impressive thing to know, but try not to show off your knowledge. Keep it safe for a time when you may really need it. As the Scouts say, “Be prepared.”
The Declaration of Independence
THE FIRST DECLARATION of independence was the Declaration of Arbroath, which was announced in Scotland in 1320, when Scottish leaders told England that they wanted their freedom. More than four hundred years later, the thirteen original colonies of the United States of America formally announced their autonomy from England.
Fifty six people signed the Declaration of Independence. The youngest, Edward Rutledge, was twenty-six years old. The oldest was Benjamin Franklin, who was seventy. Two of our future presidents also signed: John Adams became the second president of the United States, and Thomas Jefferson was the third.
Independence was actually declared on July 2, 1776, but the Declaration was officially adopted by the Continental Congress two days later, on July 4, at the Pennsylvania State House. Folks in London didn’t hear about it until August 10.
If you want to see the original copy of the Declaration, you’ll have to go to Washington, D.C., where it is available for viewing in the Rotunda for the Charters of Freedom.
When in the Course of human events it becomes necessary for one people to dissolve the political bands which have connected them with another and to assume among the powers of the earth, the separate and equal station to which the Laws of Nature and of Nature’s God entitle them, a decent respect to the opinions of mankind requires that they should declare the causes which impel them to the separation.
We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of
Happiness. — That to secure these rights, Governments are instituted among Men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed, — That whenever any Form of Government becomes destructive of these ends, it is the Right of the People to alter or to abolish it, and to institute new Government, laying its foundation on such principles and organizing its powers in such form, as to them shall seem most likely to effect their Safety and Happiness. Prudence, indeed, will dictate that Governments long established should not be changed for light and transient causes; and accordingly all experience hath shewn that mankind are more disposed to suffer, while evils are sufferable than to right themselves by abolishing the forms to which they are accustomed. But when a long train of abuses and usurpations, pursuing invariably the same Object evinces a design to reduce them under absolute Despotism, it is their right, it is their duty, to throw off such Government, and to provide new Guards for their future security. — Such has been the patient sufferance of these Colonies; and such is now the necessity which constrains them to alter their former Systems of Government. The history of the present King of Great Britain is a history of repeated injuries and usurpations, all having in direct object the establishment of an absolute Tyranny over these States. To prove this, let Facts be submitted to a candid world.
He has refused his Assent to Laws, the most wholesome and necessary for the public good.
The Dangerous Book for Boys Page 18