by Michael Gill
On 30 December 1958 Ed, still restless, wrote to John Hunt:
Dear John, I’ve been putting some thoughts into my future activities. Although I have a number of expedition possibilities, I don’t particularly want to follow this type of existence for ever, even if I could … I investigated the prospects of getting some sort of NZ Diplomatic job such as NZ High Commissioner in India but although the Government hastens to laud my mythical virtues in public, there has been singularly little response … The problem is not a financial one – I am getting a reasonable living out of being an Apiarist cum Author – but it is mainly the need to get sufficient mental satisfaction and stimulation out of the work I’m doing … I don’t know if I told you that I’d put in an application to the Chinese People’s Republic for the North side of Everest in 1960 … Ed
There is no reply to this letter in the files, but as a boost to morale, if not to the bank account, a telegram came on 18 March 1959 from Larry Kirwan of the Royal Geographic Society:
happy to inform you that her majesty the queen has approved award to you of rgs founders medal 1958 for your contribution to antarctic and himalayan exploration stop all hope you are coming england to lecture june and could receive gold medal then stop congratulations = kirwan12
The seed of a Himalayan Expedition is planted
Ed always had at the back of his mind a shortlist of expeditions he would launch if he could find the funds. Two of them were centred on Everest. The first was an attempt to complete the pre-war British route from the north through Tibet, now the Tibetan province of China. The second was an ascent of Everest without oxygen. Best of all, combine the two.
A third reason for such an expedition had been added the previous year in the Antarctic when Ed by chance stumbled on Griff Pugh, physiologist to the Cho Oyu and Everest expeditions. Griff was carrying out the sort of physiology he did best: studying, in difficult conditions, adaptation to cold while living in a tent pitched close to Scott Base. Ed’s diary notes: ‘Had a long talk to Griff about a Physiological Expedition in Feb 1960.’13
Inevitably, they talked of Everest. Was it possible without oxygen? The British expeditions between the wars, and Lambert and Tenzing in 1952, had reached 28,000ft unaided, but in both cases there had been reasons other than altitude why they could not go further. Surely, with a support team using oxygen to establish camps, two unladen climbers could use this prepared route to reach the summit without oxygen sets?
Then they asked, how could acclimatisation be improved? During the couple of months or so when expedition climbers are at or above 20,000ft, they steadily improve their acclimatisation. Why not live at 20,000ft for six months, through a Himalayan winter, and then make an oxygenless attempt on Everest?
Griff, the physiologist, envisaged them living in a high-altitude laboratory hut where he and other scientists could study the processes of acclimatisation in comfort. The problem, as always, was who would pay for it. Ed was too aware of the magnitude of the task to spend much time on it, though Griff wrote five months later that ‘I and some of my colleagues will be formulating a draft proposal which we will send to you.’14
Over the next 10 months there were a couple of desultory exchanges. Ed was not at all enthusiastic about Everest by way of the South Col route. Failure – a strong probability – could only tarnish the glory of the ascent of 1953, and he knew that he was past his prime as a high-altitude climber. But the gleam of a challenge caught his imagination: ‘I’d quite like to have a crack at Makalu.’15 There was some unfinished business there.
In April 1959 Griff delivered his draft plan for an attempt to get two climbers to the summit of Everest via the 1953 route without using oxygen. He had been impressed by the standard of comfort of the huts at Scott Base and the way Antarctic depots could be established months in advance of their use. The huts he envisaged would be warm and comfortable, and equipped with modern laboratory facilities. Two of them would be built, one at Everest Base Camp, the other in the Western Cwm at 20,000ft.
During the winter expedition members would become increasingly well acclimatised, and in spring, the plan explained:
a safe route should be established as far as the South Col, and a series of dumps laid, as in polar practice. For this purpose sledges should be provided, which would be man hauled as far as the Lhotse face, and drawn up from there by a wire cable and mechanical winch. In order to avoid the strain of repeated visits to 26,000 feet, oxygen equipment should be used during this phase. Before the assault phase, 2 further camps should be laid at 27,000 feet and 28,000 feet by parties using oxygen equipment.16
Two ascents of the mountain would be made, the first using oxygen, the second without.
Ed’s reply was non-committal:
Dear Griff, Thanks for your letter of 6th April and the enclosed draft plan for a combined Scientific and Mountaineering Expedition to Mt Everest. As you probably know my request to the Chinese for permission for a go at the north was rebuffed (as was only to be expected after the recent troubles in Tibet). Your draft plan is in many respects similar to my own …17
He might have added that this was not an expedition for the faint-hearted: it involved climbing the dangerously unstable Khumbu Icefall throughout winter, man-hauling camps up the Cwm to the Lhotse Face, establishing a winch and cable lift to the South Col, and finally putting in two camps above the Col.
When Ed wrote again in more detail, he dropped the idea of a winter hut in the Cwm, and added a second group of climbers who would arrive in March without wintering over and whose performance could be compared with that of the winter group. Ed was conscious of the limited public appeal of physiology, and in an earlier version had the winter party observing yetis and ‘chasing them on skis’.18 Conversely, no doubt, the yetis would be observing the climbers and chasing them on foot.
To Griff’s suggestion that Ed should apply for Everest permission ‘forthwith’, Ed replied:
I find it difficult to raise too much enthusiasm for the attack by the old route until something more tangible is available on the financial side … I’m damn certain we’d get someone to the top without oxygen but we’d need a lot of cash … Don’t bother about me if you’d like to rake John Hunt in to run it – he’d probably be a lot more suitable and has the advantage of living in the UK … not that I don’t think that you and I would work in rather well together.
Best of luck Griff. Regards, Ed.19
The American connection
One day in the middle of 1959, when these ideas for another Himalayan expedition were brewing, Ed’s meagre earnings from beekeeping were supplemented by the useful sum of US$1000. Argosy, a men’s adventure magazine, had chosen Ed as the recipient of its annual Explorer of the Year award. This involved a trip to New York to address the award banquet. As he and Louise boarded the plane, Ed could not have guessed that the trip would provide more money than $1000, or that it would lead to a large and complex expedition and a paid career for the rest of his life.
This change in fortune came about through John Dienhart, a lateral-thinking marketing director working for World Book Encyclopedia, the world’s bestselling encyclopedia made up of 21 volumes of concise, carefully crafted entries. When he heard Ed’s acceptance speech in New York, he was impressed not only by the famous explorer’s physical presence but also by his ability as a speaker, the enthusiasm and energy with which he could engage an audience, his sense of humour, his infectious laugh. Here was a personality who could connect with a generation of children and parents buying World Book Encyclopedia, and inspire its sales force to greater heights.
He invited Ed to World Book’s headquarters in Chicago to take part in an educational film for television. One evening after an unusually good dinner, Ed talked expansively about his dreams for the future, including his expedition that would combine yeti-hunting, physiology and an oxygenless attempt on Everest or perhaps Makalu.
In 1953 it had been natural for Ed to appear as an engagingly self-deprecating, eve
n naïve mountaineer from a small country. Six years of fame might have gone to his head, but by now Ed recognised that people loved him for his simple modesty – which by now had become just a little less simple and a little more knowing. Ed had developed a bond with Americans during his time in Antarctica. They were generous, of course, but there was something about their easy-going nature that he responded to, just as they responded to his easy and unassuming sociability.
Ed had not been long back in New Zealand when he received a phone call from John Dienhart. He replied:
Dear John, Your telephone call was something of a surprise and has made me do some quick thinking. I have a number of plans under way already and these may well not be of the type and magnitude to appeal to World Book Encyclopedia. My big ambition, as you know, is to take a Physiological Expedition to the Tibetan side of Everest and attempt to get a party to the top without oxygen, but this is not possible due to the political situation.
Perhaps I might give you an idea of my plans for the next 18 months or so. I hope you will keep them confidential.
October–December 1959: A short trip in New Zealand to attempt the unclimbed north ridge of Mt. Hopeless followed by a fortnight hunting deer, chamois and thar in isolated mountain areas of New Zealand.
July–September 1960: In London and the USA lecturing and launching my new book on the Antarctic and hoping to raise $40,000 for my ‘Around Everest’ expedition. I hope you will keep it very much to yourself as any publicity could result in me having to dodge a Chinese army reception committee.
March–July 1961: This expedition will be the first complete circuit of Mt. Everest. Although this expedition will not descend below 18,000ft, over half of the route will be in Tibet so secrecy will have to be observed until the conclusion of the expedition. The party will need to be mobile and fast.
As you can see, these plans do not include a search for the Abominable Snowman. In my view the best time of year for such a search would be during the winter. By moving around on skis it should be possible to keep a very close watch on some of the suspected haunts of the Yeti. However any sponsor of such an expedition would need to realise that the chances are definitely against finding the creature – although of course this might just be the lucky party.
In general, John, everything is pretty well definite up to until September 1960 but I have only just started the ball rolling for ‘Around Everest’. The main problem in organising an expedition is that you need finances before you go, whereas the money producing items such as films and articles aren’t available until the end of the expedition.
If any useful purpose will be served by my coming to Chicago I will arrange a suitable date.
Kindest regards, Ed Hillary20
This somewhat disingenuous letter was a bait for the more expensive yeti/physiology expedition. An attempt on the unclimbed north ridge of Mt Hopeless, 7472ft, sounds like a comic sequel to The Ascent of Rum Doodle. A circumnavigation of Everest, most of it in Tibet, would almost certainly lead to capture, a major international incident and a long stay in a Chinese gaol. An unknown New Zealand beekeeper could cross the Nup La undetected for a few days in 1952, but his famous reincarnation could hardly escape notice in 1961 as he crossed the headwaters of the Rongbuk and Kharta valleys to re-enter Nepal alongside Makalu.
Dienhart responded with a request for a plan of the yeti expedition. Ed summarised the objectives as:
A thorough search for the Abominable Snowman or Yeti, plus an extended programme of physiological research into the acclimatisation of the human body to high altitudes …
Evidence either proving or disproving the existence of the Yeti.
A party of climbers to winter for the first time at 20,000ft as a physiological experiment …
As the culmination of a long period of acclimatisation, get a party of men to the summit of Mt Makalu 27,790ft without using oxygen …21
He continued with an elaboration of these themes in terms vague enough to arouse the admiration of the World Book marketing team. ‘It is obvious that this creature is very elusive and that the slightest sound or smell of humans is enough to send it to ground.’ Ed noted that an advantage of searching in autumn would be that yeti would be working their way down-valley ahead of the advancing winter snows.
Promoting the physiology of acclimatisation was more difficult than the prospect of finding a yeti, but there was always the tenuous link to space travel: ‘Man is reaching out to the stars and research into the technique of how to live in air of low oxygen content could well prove useful on some other planet in the not too distant future … I think an overall cost of $120,000 would produce a good expedition.’22
The result was an invitation to Chicago to meet the board of World Book. In a letter to Louise, Ed sounds vaguely stunned as he describes the occasion and takes in the size of the task ahead:
My dearest Lulu, Well everything has gone almost too easily and here I am with $125,000 to spend … I flew to Chicago in perfect weather. Tuesday was the big day. At 9.30am I attended the meeting of the Directors and explained everything to them. They proved to be an extraordinarily pleasant crowd … Anyway they agreed to support the whole expedition to the tune of $125,000 and gave me practically a free hand.
They were particularly interested in the aftermath of the Expedition and wanted me to lecture on their behalf for 6 or 8 months around High Schools and Clubs etc. – at a salary to be agreed. They offered to transport you and the family over as well. I said I thought it would be possible … We agreed that I would receive 20% of all the proceeds from books, magazine articles films etc. They are advancing me against this a salary at the rate of $10,000 a year. So we won’t be poor …23
Let planning commence
Suddenly it was all happening, and with less than a year before departure. Griff Pugh quickly arranged nine months’ paid leave and began to plan the scientific programme and its personnel. An easy choice was Mike Ward, Griff’s medical associate on Everest in 1953. Mike’s everyday work was a far cry from physiology – he was a surgeon practising in East London – but Griff knew that he could rely on his unqualified support. Griff then sent out an appeal on the grapevine for interested respiratory physiologists, and found three more members.
An early response came from John West, a talented Australian physiologist working with the prestigious Respiratory Group at Hammersmith Hospital in London. He had heard about the expedition at a meeting of the English Physiological Society, applied to Griff and was accepted.
Jim Milledge, a respiratory physician who had graduated from Birmingham, had read about the expedition in the Telegraph. Like John West, he kept fit and was familiar with mountains through skiing. A third application from within UK came from Sukhamay Lahiri, a graduate from Calcutta now doing research at Oxford. From outside the UK came Tom Nevison from the US Air Force. Then there was me, Mike Gill from Ed’s home city of Auckland. In 1959 I was at medical school at Dunedin, but saw myself as working towards an unrecognised PhD in mountaineering, with medicine as a back-up in the event that I should need to earn a living. I came to the expedition through a brief item on the back page of the Auckland Star of 23 December 1959: ‘Sir Edmund Hillary is looking for two young New Zealand climbers to accompany him on his forthcoming Himalayan Expedition – and he is willing to receive applications from anyone interested.’
I dropped the newspaper, took up pen and paper, and spent two hours drafting as persuasive a letter as I could. The age limits were 25 to 35. I was 22, too young, so after some consideration decided to give myself an extra year. Climbing qualifications: I could muster a good record of climbs new and old. ‘I have an ape-like build peculiarly suited to climbing,’ I added. And then my trump card: the expedition was concerned not only with mountaineering but with physiology, and I had a Bachelor of Medical Science research degree in physiology. I sealed the letter, walked the mile and a half to Sir Edmund’s home, and dropped it in his mail box. The following afternoon I was called to the phone
. A voice barked out of the earpiece at me: ‘Is that Michael Gill? Ed Hillary speaking. I got your letter today. What about coming up and having a yarn.’
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘Yes. Certainly. When?’
‘Well, why not come up now if you can spare the time.’
Within an hour I was knocking nervously on the door. I was warmly welcomed by an attractive Lady Hillary who looked at me with some curiosity as she invited me in. ‘We’ve been just dying to know what this ape-like person looked like,’ she explained.
It was not a very formal interview. The climbing record was fine and Ed had made an inquiry about my degree. ‘I was talking to a doctor friend and he said this B. Med Science degree is a pretty good one. I’ll let you know later whether there’s a place for you on the expedition.’
Three months later in Dunedin an urgent telegram arrived: ‘Appreciate you call me at your earliest convenience. Hillary’.