Strutt, this time with Longstaff, Norton and Morshead, had then set off on a four-day hike to find two further sites, Camp II at 19,700 feet and Camp III at 21,000 feet. In the meantime Geoffrey Bruce and John Morris had led a conga line of fifty porters, carrying piles of dried yak dung for heating, to secure the first camp, constructing four stone shelters to save on tents. And so it went on as the expedition slowly but surely worked its way from base camp toward the North Col.
But behind the teamwork there was friction. The effect of the increased altitude had brought irritability into the camp and, once again, George Finch appeared to bear the brunt of it. Mallory by now could not stand him, so much so that he took Somervell off one day to climb a nearby peak rather than attend another of George’s lectures. But it was at meal times, with appetites dulled by the altitude and the overly rich provisions, that the alienation really showed.
John Morris noted that only George Finch seemed to be able to digest the ludicrously luxurious diet more befitting a group of travelling English gentlemen than pioneering mountaineers. Meals regularly included items such as quail in aspic, sausages, ham, tinned herring and sardines, spaghetti, bacon and sweet biscuits, the men eating as if at a Sunday lunch in the English countryside:
At great heights most people become irritable and absurdly intolerant of each other’s idiosyncrasies. It was not long before we began to find fault with such petty details as one another’s method of using a knife and fork or a tendency to whistle. And a companion’s obvious enjoyment of a solid meal at a time when one had lost all appetite invariably resulted in an exchange of words. Finch, who was a man of most equable temperament, was an almost permanent subject of sarcastic comment, since he alone was capable of eating anything at any time. Most of us learned to control our feelings, but there were several occasions when Strutt, who was naturally intolerant in even normal circumstances, was unable to keep his thoughts to himself. He always apologised for these outbursts but they nevertheless had a dampening effect.
Finch was doing himself no favours by pursuing experiments with an alternative oxygen system he had brought from England. The oxylithe bag, created by Leonard Hill, the professor of physiology at London Hospital, was supposed to be a back-up system to his own. Mixing water and oxylithe (or sodium peroxide) in a bag chemically produced oxygen, which could then be inhaled as needed. Instead, when George gave oxylithe to John Noel, it exploded in a blue flame and filled his tent with a mist of caustic soda. The effect was even worse when he tried using a bag himself, the resulting spray causing a fit of coughing and leaving a slimy taste in his mouth: ‘I have therefore decided to condemn the Leonard Hill apparatus as not only being useless but, indeed, directly harmful at high altitudes.’
The damage had already been done, however, and even though the oxylithe bag had only ever been something George was experimenting with, he found himself more isolated than ever on the issue of oxygen. On May 7 Charles Bruce wrote to Francis Younghusband, complaining about the cold temperatures which were delaying an attempt at the summit. Of the oxygen equipment, Bruce said: ‘I am terrified by it. It seems to me to be so very easily put out of order and also so liable to be damaged by hitting against rocks or catching its Indian rubber tubing on rocks; also the changing of bottles on steep slopes when the apparatus has to be taken off and readjusted by very weary and hungry men seems a danger. However, Finch seems very confident.’
The arrival of the mail on May 10, so eagerly anticipated by George Finch, brought him equal amounts of joyful longing and angry despair. There were two letters from Bubbles with chitchat of her plans to redecorate their home. The car had finally been sold, which eased her immediate financial pressure, but she had some slight concerns about Christmas and the possible poor behaviour of a female relative. She enclosed a few photographs of herself as well as George’s monocular, a hybrid telescope and magnifying glass that George used to help his bad eye, injured during the war.
George’s reply – written almost immediately and noted, with light-hearted precision, as being sent from ‘Base Camp, 17,000 feet 11 inches N of Everest’ – was filled with words of love and assurances of his good health. His clothes were stout, the suit holding firm and his shirt hand-washed in Lux every couple of days, and he was gadding about after a few days with a ‘chill’. He longed for fresh fruit and salad and filled his days developing films and preparing equipment while memorising Browning sonnets. There was no mention of the climb ahead, only of his desire to be back with her in London: ‘Darling mine, they’ve just warned me that the mail closes in a quarter-hour so I must hurry off to get all the parcels ready in time. In the meantime darling heart, don’t be the slightest bit anxious – don’t worry, for I shall always be careful & ever mindful of you who are waiting for me. I love you, love you, and adore you …’
But the mail also carried copies of Arthur Hinks’s Royal Geographical Society magazine article, addressed to Charles Bruce with an accompanying letter, justifying the article: ‘We felt that it was desirable to point out to people in general that there was as much interest in climbing as high as possible without oxygen as getting to the top with it.’
Bruce and Strutt read the article and handed it to Finch, without comment, the message clear that they agreed with the conclusions or at least felt compelled to follow the views of the Royal Geographical Society kingpins Hinks and Younghusband, even though both were members of the Alpine Club and supposedly loyal to Percy Farrar.
George read with growing fury, later writing:
Thus far our mission had been to undertake a determined assault on the summit with every and all available means. Overnight, the opinions of oxygen opponents have taken over and influenced the expedition participants to such a degree that suddenly an entirely new assignment seemed to have emerged: To find out what altitude a person could advance on this earth during a leisurely stroll … The author of the article, campaigning against the use of supplementary oxygen, and wishing to give it a grand burial, had illuminated the problem in a new light and shaken our group’s belief in its mission. Our only consolation lay in the fact that the author was no mountaineer himself. And so it came about that I remained the only one firmly believing in the power and indispensability of oxygen.
Meanwhile, George Mallory and Howard Somervell had made their way steadily up the glacier from camp to camp and by the early afternoon of May 13, nursing blinding altitude headaches and bracing themselves against a gale, they hammered poles firmly into the ice at the foot of the North Col and erected a tent to establish Camp IV at 23,000 feet – ‘a symbol of our future intentions’.
The pathway to the summit of Everest had been opened, ropes now pegged to the steeper slopes from the glacier so porters could haul supplies to the next staging post. The two men retreated, exhausted, to huddle in their tent at Camp III for the next three days where they played cards and read to each other from Mallory’s small collection of books, including Hamlet and King Lear and an anthology of poetry and prose edited by the Poet Laureate, Robert Bridges, called The Spirit of Man. It seemed appropriate as they waited, alternately sleeping and talking in the slow-motion atmosphere of high-altitude existence, for the others to arrive.
Back at base camp General Bruce and Colonel Strutt had again changed their strategy, and the news would be devastating for George Finch who had been struggling to overcome a relapse of his ‘tummy trouble’. Teddy Norton would no longer partner him in the oxygen-assisted attempt on the summit, instead leaving base camp on May 14 with Morshead and Strutt to join Mallory and Somervell. Strutt would then make the final decision about the composition and size of the climbing team or teams.
Bruce would later insist that it was Strutt’s suggestion, made because of a concern about the clearly worsening weather as well as ongoing doubts about Finch and his oxygen equipment. George had made a cursory check of the cylinders back in Darjeeling but it was only after arriving at Rongbuk that he discovered repairs were necessary before they could be used:
At first sight it would seem that it was not wise to send so many of the best climbers at once on the mountain before the oxygen apparatus was ready, but he felt (and I consider he was quite right) that as the weather was so bad and the monsoon was evidently arriving before its time, and as at the moment the oxygen equipment was in such a doubtful condition, it was far better to make an attempt than possibly to fail in making any attempt at all.
The explanation defied logic to George, given that the original plan was to use two-man teams and that Mallory and Somervell were already prepared to climb when the weather cleared, but there was little he could do but watch the others go: ‘Until then I had firmly believed that it was indeed possible to conquer Everest but my hopes sank deeper and deeper as I watched the last climbers leave base camp.’
Strutt arrived at Camp III on May 16 anxious to get a report about the impending monsoon. Mallory and Somervell had trekked to the eastern side of the glacier to a pass called Rapiu La from where they could look down through the Kama Valley and get some sense of the weather approaching from the south. The two men insisted that conditions, while less than perfect, were reasonable, but Strutt was not convinced and accompanied them on another trip to the pass. The situation had changed, at least as far as Strutt was concerned, the clouds boiling beneath them in a grim, grey mass. Even Mallory had to concede the weather was worsening: ‘The bitterest even of Tibetan winds poured violently over the pass at our backs. We wondered as we turned to meet it how long a respite was to be allowed us.’
Strutt was decisive in his anxiety, insisting that they stood a better chance of success if the men climbed as one team of four. Mallory agreed, arguing that if one man faltered and required help then at least two could keep going. The decision was made and there was no discussion about the impact on Finch’s attempt. Weather permitting they would begin the next day by taking provisions to Camp IV on the backs of ten porters. They would have a rest day back at Camp III and then leave after breakfast on May 19, with the aim of climbing to 26,000 feet where they would camp overnight before striking out for the summit the next morning.
George Finch, now fully recovered physically and determined psychologically, made his move on May 16, leaving the base camp with Geoffrey Bruce, Arthur Wakefield, a Nepalese officer with the 6th Gurkha Rifles named Naik Tejbir Bura, who, along with the other Gurkhas, had been with them since Darjeeling, and a handful of porters to take the last of the oxygen equipment to Camp I. George had made up his mind. Despite being abandoned by the other climbers he would not come this far and miss the chance to conquer Everest. It was just a matter of who to take with him.
Years of guiding inexperienced young men like John Case, Will Sturgess and Guy Forster up the biggest mountains in Europe made him confident that he could take on the world’s highest peak with men who had never before climbed a mountain, provided they were not only physically strong and fit but ‘had the right spirit’. He decided he wanted to take the two soldiers, Captain Geoffrey Bruce and Lance Corporal Tejbir Bura, with him up Everest. He couldn’t see why General Bruce would object; why would they be on the expedition unless they were prepared to climb?
Of Geoffrey Bruce George later wrote:
Tall and strong physique, the athletic man possessed unusual amounts of energy. Especially this last attribute was of great importance and value for the adventure that lay ahead of us. Additionally he was such a jovial fellow in any and all situations that, even though he had no experience in mountain climbing, he was a near-perfect comrade.
He regarded the quiet Nepalese as the most promising of the non-commissioned Gurkha officers:
Tejbir was a wonderful representative of the human race – 6 feet tall, broad shouldered and wide of chest – a splendid fellow from head to toe. I had discovered another endearing quality about him: the smallest encouragement would cause his face to break into a wide grin, even in uncomfortable and miserable situations. Like Bruce, Tejbir had never climbed a mountain before. But I am convinced that a man who knows how to laugh will always prevail, be it on a mountain or in life, much more than an individual who is an expert on the ins and outs of climbing but does not know how to laugh.
It was a strange assessment, given that George was regarded by many of the others as an example of the latter: a man who knew, or thought he knew, everything but was too serious about it to relax.
Ever the pragmatist, George had dissected the challenge ahead, and his initial awe of the mountain had been tempered by his study of its structure. Yes, Everest was huge, almost overpowering even from a distance, but there were two heights – absolute and relative. They didn’t need to climb its absolute height above sea level, but its relative height of a little under 10,000 feet from the base camp, roughly the same height that Mont Blanc soared above its glaciers.
While others wrote poetry about Everest, George Finch had become disdainful, at least aesthetically:
From the point of view of beauty there can be no comparison between the two mountains. Mont Blanc, seen from the north, is a wonderful, glistening mass of snowy domes, piled one against the other in ever-increasing altitude to a beautifully proportioned and well-balanced whole. No beauty or symmetry of form can be read out of the ponderous, ungainly, ill-proportioned lump … of almost comical squatness and which carries, as if by accident, a little carelessly truncated cone to serve as a summit.
Having reached Camp I, George called a halt, opting for a ‘rest’ day to check and test the oxygen cylinders. Spying an ice slope on the edge of a frozen pond of glacial water, George decided to give his rookie charges a lesson in the use of climbing irons and ice-axes. Bruce and Tejbir eagerly attacked the slope with an enthusiasm that only bolstered George’s sense that they were up to the task, but he was also reminded of the dangers ahead when Tejbir, overreaching, slipped and slithered down the slope, breaking through the ice and disappearing into the waters beneath.
It was a frightening moment, saved only by Tejbir’s quick response as he kept hold of his axe and used it to clamp himself to the ice until he could be hauled clear and taken back to camp where he was stripped and thawed out under a pile of blankets. The problem then was to find a way to dry his clothes that had fused into a suit of armour in the sub-zero temperatures. It was too cold for the ice to melt but George realised that the air was so dry and rarified that the ice would evaporate just as water would on a hot summer’s day at sea level:
Thus to dry Tejbir’s frozen garments one only had to apply a little logic and scientific training. Take, for instance, his trousers. These were first of all hammered out flat and then placed in a vertical position against a little wall of stones. The moment they collapsed and fell to the ground, it was obvious that their stiffening of ice had disappeared and they were, therefore, dry. Who, after this brilliant example, would gainsay the uses of science?
George had initially planned to spend two nights in each camp on the way to the North Col but his little party felt so fresh when they reached Camp II without incident that he decided to push on the next morning to Camp III. The weather was still holding and an extra day acclimatising could be useful. They left at 8am on May 19 and by midday, under a summer sun that warmed their backs, had made their way past a series of yawning crevasses and through the puzzle of giant seracs that glistened in a rainbow of blue and green crystals to find the neat row of tents pitched on bare rock alongside the glacier wall.
The only expedition member there was Colonel Strutt, who emerged from his tent to explain that the others had left a few hours earlier ‘to inspect the North summit’. George looked to where Strutt pointed, squinting against the light flaring off the white slopes above them, and could make out several static black dots – the tents of Camp IV. Scanning left he could just make out four more dots, this time moving, albeit slowly. It was Mallory, Norton, Morshead and Somervell: ‘Apparently someone had decided to go for a little stroll up there,’ he commented acidly.
Although George appeared to accept Stru
tt’s assurances that the decision to send four and not three climbers together was for the good of the expedition, he was angry that the colonel was offering him Wakefield as a replacement climbing candidate. Not only was the doctor struggling physically in the extreme conditions but he had been one of the most vocal opponents of the use of oxygen. That night, tucked into his eiderdown sleeping bag, George scrawled a brief entry in his diary: ‘Wakefield has come up with us. I don’t know what he expects to do. He can barely crawl along, is always fussing and making a nuisance of himself. Generally speaking he is a busy old woman and good for nothing.’
George was determined to climb with Bruce and Tejbir – and leave the naysayers and backstabbers behind.
25.
A BLADDER AND A T-TUBE
George Finch’s mood turned to dismay the next morning when all ten sets of oxygen units were unpacked and closely inspected for the first time. He had already opened some cases and knew there were problems to be addressed, but now he realised that all the cylinders were faulty. The combination of the pounding sea voyage, rough overland trip and see-sawing temperatures had weakened the metal joints, while the cold dry air of the mountains had caused the washers to dry out to the point they were no longer airtight. The flow meters and gauges did not work properly. Thankfully, the cylinders themselves had not leaked.
The Brilliant Outsider Page 22