The Brilliant Outsider

by Wainwright, Robert

  A fellow scientist, mountaineer and photographer, Basil Goodfellow, who served as George’s vice-president during his tenure, noted: ‘Those who came to know George Finch only in his later life soon realised that the fire in his character, of which one had long been aware from familiarity with his writing, was, if mellowed, far from extinct.’

  George would celebrate his election by admitting to the Alpine Club an old friend, Sir Arnold Lunn, a famed alpinist who previously had been denied membership because his family ‘made money out of climbing’, by operating a ski and travel business. As president George would be a champion for inclusion and breaking down the nationalistic barriers he believed had stymied the early attempts on Everest – at the expense of men like his old friend Marcel Kurz, whom he continued to see during his occasional visits to Switzerland.

  George regarded nationalism as a noxious weed, making his feelings known during his valedictory speech to the club in 1961, after his three years, the maximum allowed, at the helm:

  Like all adventurers we mountaineers are rebels, forever seeking to extend the frontiers of knowledge. But the search for new knowledge stagnates in isolation; it can flourish only where there is freedom to exchange experience and ideas. Thus we rebel against the growth of nationalism which, from seeds sown in Napoleonic times, has today become a terrifying exuberant weed. I like to hope that we are on the winning side, for I know of no association of mountaineers where nationality is a bar to membership. Nor are we bothered with a nationalistic competitive element for which the appropriate and highly effective weed killer is ridicule.

  George would also prove vital to the ageing club’s financial survival, calling on the coterie of wealthy friends he had made over the years through climbing and science to support an institution he once thought was irrelevant because of its antiquated views. Although he embraced his role as a respected elder statesman there were the occasional, if subtle, reflections on the flaws of his old foes, as in 1966 when he delivered a speech at the centenary celebrations of the Swiss Alpine Club in Geneva:

  Mind, the most precious attribute of man, achieves nothing unless it is exercised and so put to use. It is only then that perception, reason and memory collaborate in that overall potentially constructive intellectual activity which is thought. But it is precisely here that we meet with serious difficulty because, of all forms of human activity, thinking is by far the most unpopular. Many people leave it to others to think for them; the so-called thinking of some makes no real appeal to reason and so ends up in idle speculation. And there are many other ways of sterilising the mind.

  This would be George’s last public speech. Entitled ‘Men and Mountains’, it was a sweeping appraisal of his twin careers that somehow dovetailed one into the other: ‘both reveal new horizons opened up by the adventure of discovery’. At one point George ventured back to that moment on Mount Canobolas, high above his hometown of Orange, that had so inspired him: ‘The mountains draw their devotees from the young who seek nothing more than adventure and experiences wider than those offered in the plains – and they are rewarded beyond their dreams.’

  He argued for change to be embraced because ‘the growth of knowledge never stands still’ and pleaded with young climbers to pause occasionally, to bivouac at the tops of mountains and enjoy their moment of triumph with a tin of peaches, drenched with condensed milk and chilled with a handful of snow, ‘where there is time to forget one’s resentment of yesterday’s hardships and so to accept the trials and tribulations of the present’.

  Then there were the mountains themselves, some of which, quite apart from Everest, he had never climbed:

  Ever since I first saw the Weisshorn it has been to me the loveliest of all mountains and yet I have never climbed it. And why not? Somewhere I had read a description of its summit as consisting of three sharp white ridges meeting in a perfect point. I have always felt that, if I ever got to the top, it would be to find the lovely picture trodden out by brutal feet and the mountain shamed and desecrated by the sordid leavings of previous climbers.

  Others were old friends:

  The Tödi, for instance, with its jewel of a glacier nestling hard under the tremendous precipices of the Bifertenstock, has drawn me to its summit twenty-two times. On the last occasion – it now seems a farewell celebration – a large party of cheerful Swiss with bulging rucksacks joined my wife and myself on the mist-shrouded summit. From their sacks they produced a concertina and sundry other instruments and for two happy hours we sang gay songs in praise of the mountains.

  As he prepared to step down from the presidency of the Alpine Club, George and Bubbles decided to spend a few days in the Ogwen Valley in northern Wales. They had been there many times over the years, often staying at the Pen-Y-Gwryd Hotel. The granite and slate-topped building was once a farmhouse, then a coaching inn, before being transformed into a snug base for those who wanted to climb Wales’s highest peak, Snowdon.

  George had come here to write his valedictory speech in the shadow of a mountain that was a pimple compared to the Alps, let alone the Himalayas, and yet the place still held important memories. It was here, soon after arriving in London, that he had met George Mallory at an Easter gathering organised by Geoffrey Winthrop Young. They were rowdy annual events at which sixty or more climbers would spend a week testing themselves against each other on Snowdon’s crags.

  Edmund Hillary and Tenzing Norgay had trained here in early 1953 before conquering Everest. Through the 1930s and ’40s George had brought his daughters here to introduce them to climbing, although he stepped back from any hands-on role, fearing it would be as fraught as a parent trying to teach a child to drive a car. Instead, he watched proudly as Bunty took to it with ease, scrambling up cliffs without hesitation.

  It was youth who held the key to the future of mountaineering. He had always known it, in his early battles with the establishment and his joy in taking inexperienced climbers on difficult ascents. There had to be a way to foster and encourage youth, with all its potential and enthusiasm.

  One morning as he drove alone along a valley road, George stopped for a young man who was clearly struggling with climbing gear and a giant rucksack. He was heading for Milestone Buttress, a challenging 250-foot climb at the base of a mountain, the Tryfan, still six miles up the road. George offered him a lift.

  They chatted as George drove, the young man filled with enthusiasm for the task ahead and completely unaware of whom he was talking to, much less what George Finch had achieved. He wanted to learn to climb and had ‘all the gadgets’, he told the older man who helped him unload and lift the rucksack over the fence between the car park and the base of the rock.

  ‘Are you going to carry the rucksack up with you?’ George asked politely, wondering if the young man realised the difference that such a weight would have on the climb.

  ‘Oh no,’ he replied. ‘I’m leaving it down here. It’s perfectly safe and I want to repeat the climb several times this morning to get the practice while the weather’s good.’

  George watched, bemused and slightly worried, as the young man tied one end of the rope he carried around his waist, a pointless act given that he was climbing alone.

  ‘It’s more like real climbing this way,’ he explained, sensing George’s eyes on him, then after a moment’s hesitation asked: ‘Would you like to climb with me?’

  It was George’s turn to be taken aback. ‘I’m sorry, but I’m too old for that sort of thing.’

  ‘Pity. It’s great fun. You should try it.’

  EPILOGUE

  George Ingle Finch, ‘the boy from Down Under’, as he described himself in a scrawled late-life memoir, died at home peacefully on November 8, 1970, succumbing to pneumonia. He had recently turned eighty-two.

  Most British newspapers published obituaries, among them The Times which devoted two columns to an overview of his life and many achievements. It concluded, simply: ‘He was one of the two best Alpinists of his time – Mallory was the
other.’

  Such had been their partnership, it came as no surprise to the family when Bubbles lasted for just two years more, dying of a heart attack following her morning bath. Although George had made some dubious decisions regarding relationshps, Agnes Johnston, the petite Scotswoman with the bouncy curls, had proved to be his perfect partner in life.

  And what a life! It is difficult to know where to begin in assessing his legacy. One could cite the Everest ascent in 1922 as his greatest achievement, but he would almost certainly disagree. George Finch was a rare physical specimen, able to hold his breath until he passed out as a test of his prowess, one of the great technicians on a mountainside, and confident enough to back his own judgment and against bullying elitists.

  But ultimately it was his intellect and curiosity that shone brightest; he proved his ingenuity in two world wars and was the driving force and spur-of-the-moment genius behind an oxygen system still used today, as well as the designer of warm, lightweight winter clothing, the forerunner of the ubiquitous puffer jacket that can be found in any high-street store. He was a champion of youth, as he proved when climbing mountains, rescuing Jewish students caught in political crossfire or in the classroom engaging young minds. Most of all, he was a brilliant scientist, at the forefront of research that led to some of the most significant breakthroughs in industrial chemistry of the twentieth century.

  The enthusiastic boy who chased wallabies up Mount Canobolas and was inspired by the view could never have conceived the truly sweeping prospect that lay ahead.

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS AND NOTES ON SOURCES

  I would like to thank Francis Russell, George Finch’s grandson, his mother, Anne (Bunty), and sister Virginia, who granted me access to family archives and were kind hosts through the process of researching. Likewise, George’s other surviving daughter, Moseli, and her son Nanda were generous with their time, as was family friend Cynthia Wood.

  I should also acknowledge Tony Ingle-Finch, grandson of Michael, who was generous in sharing information about his family, and also mention the descendants of Bryan Ingle Finch, who did not want to contribute, for understandable reasons. Memories can be difficult. Details of events past are often scant and confusing, making interpretation of motives difficult, particularly when they have to be placed in the context of the time, place and social norms.

  My main sources for the book were the private papers of George Finch, an amazing array of formal and less formal documents and photographs, including his handwritten diary of the 1922 Everest expedition, and his many scientific papers and speeches, all of which echoed his brilliance, determination and complexity.

  Archives are an integral part of a historical account, given that most of those involved or who witnessed his life have since passed away. I thank Glyn Hughes, archivist at the Alpine Club, and the Alpine Club office staff for arranging access to the club records, minutes, papers and letters; and the Royal Geographical Society archival staff for their patience and help during my visits delving into their fascinating records. The records at the British Library proved helpful for filling in missing pieces about George’s battle with officialdom, as were files held at Cambridge University, where access to the letters of George Mallory was organised by Catherine Sutherland and made available by the Masters and Fellows of Magdalene College. I would also mention the amazing resources at the British National Archives at Kew in London.

  My main literary references were George Finch’s 1924 memoir, The Making of a Mountaineer, republished in 1988 with additions by his son-in-law Scott Russell; and his 1925 book, Der Kampf um den Everest, republished in 2008 as George Ingle Finch’s The Struggle for Everest, edited by George W Rodway.

  My readings included the award-winning Into the Silence by Wade Davis, a patient, scrupulous and wonderfully written book about of the early Everest expeditions and the men behind them. Finch, Bloody Finch by the late Elaine Dundy and Peter Finch: A Biography by Trader Faulkner helped in piecing together the story of Peter Finch. I also referenced the official accounts of the 1921 campaign by Colonel Howard-Bury and the 1922 expedition by Charles Bruce.

  Other books I consulted include The Life and Murder of Henry Morshead by Ian Morshead; After Everest: The Experiences of a Mountaineer and Medical Missionary by Theodore Howard Somervell; Hired to Kill by John Morris; The Epic of Mount Everest by Sir Francis Younghusband; The Story of Everest by Captain John Noel; The Wildest Dream: A Biography of George Mallory by Peter and Leni Gillman; The Mystery of Mallory & Irvine by Tom Holzel and Audrey Salkeld; and The History of Imperial College 1907–2007: Higher Education and Research in Science, Technology and Medicine by Dr Hannah Gay.

  Newspaper archives have also been important, particularly those of The Times, which was a sponsor of the early Everest attempts, as well as Trove in the National Library of Australia, and websites such as Ancestry.com. I have also read numerous reports published in the Alpine Journal, as well as academic papers, including ‘George I. Finch and his pioneering use of oxygen for climbing at extreme altitudes’ by JB West published in the Journal of Applied Physiology, May 2003; and A Record of Shelford Parva, by Fanny Wale (1908).

  Finally, I want to thank Richard Walsh, who realised that George Ingle Finch was a man whose incredible life story had not been fully told. I am also very grateful for the support of Shona Martyn, Amruta Slee, Mary Rennie and my editor, Amanda O’Connell, at ABC Books/HarperCollins in Sydney. To my wife, Paola, thank you for your patience, encouragement and suggestions; also to my friend Andrea Dixon for her support and ideas with the early draft.

  Robert Wainwright

  February 2015, London

  INDEX

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  Aberdare, Lord, 184

  Abruzzi, Duke of, 232

  Academic Alpine Club of Zürich (AACZ), 46, 59–60, 68, 89, 106, 127

  Afghan Wars, 192

  Aiguille de Blatière, 312

  Aiguille de la Za, 40

  Aiguille du Dru, 149

  Aiguille du Goûter, 384

  Aiguilles Rouges d’Arolla, 40

  Albert, Prince, Duke of York, 183

  Almer, Hans and Ulrich, 48

  Alpine Club of London, 30, 53, 60, 69, 123, 170, 191, 249, 283, 327, 346, 368

  and admission of women, 322

  documents missing from archives, 333

  contrasted with AACZ, 89–90

  Finch and, 297–8, 311–12, 394–5, 398–9, 401

  and 1921 expedition, 128–9, 144–6, 150

  and 1922 expedition, 185–6, 189

  Russell and, 310–11, 332

  Alpine Journal, 60, 90, 124, 231

  amatol, 110

  ammonia synthesis, 79–80, 356

  Anderson, Dr H Graeme, 159, 164, 186

  Andrade, António de, 194

  Ang Nyima, 391

  Anglo-American Club, 59

  Annals of Physical Science, 26

  Archimedes, 27

  Aristotle, 26

  Atwood machine, 14

  Aufdenblatten, Alfred and Adolf, 169

  Australian Club, 9

  Balfour-Clarke, Captain Dick, 134

  Balkan Wars, 81

  balloon flights, 195

  Barnson, Mr Justice, 154

  barometers, 57, 263, 277

  BASF, 80–1

  Battle of Britain, 122

  Battle of the Somme, 148, 196

  Beachy Head, 23–4, 31

  Beetham, Bentley, 231, 315, 337–8

  Beilby layer, 357–8

  Belgium, honours Finch, 363–4

  Belper, Lord, 184

  Bert, Paul, 195

  Besant, Annie, 19–20, 384

  Bifertenstock, 91–4, 97, 401

  Bilney, Air Vice-Marshal, 374

  Bisley shooting range, 352

  Black, Catherine, 16–17

  Black, Philip Barton, 1
6–18

  Blue Mountains, 12, 397

  Boer War, 124

  Bolshevik Revolution, 143, 171

  Bonacossa, Aldo, 53–4, 59

  Bone, Professor William Arthur, 85–7, 102, 345, 348, 356, 368

  Bosch, Carl, 80, 356, 368

  Bourdillon, Tom, 390

  Bredig, Georg, 80

  Breithorn, 169

  Bridges, Robert, 250

  Broglie, Louis de, 362

  Brompton Oratory, 156

  Browning, Elizabeth Barrett, 240, 248

  Bruce, General Charles Granville, 146, 161, 184–7, 189, 192–3, 252, 317, 322

  and accident inquiry, 299, 301

  and Alpine Club, 149–50, 297, 312, 327

  and approach to Everest, 208–9, 216–17, 220, 224–6, 230, 239–44, 247–50

  celebrates birthday, 223

  and climbing strategies, 217, 250, 252, 267, 269, 283–6, 298

  first sight of Everest, 237

  independent wealth, 218

  and lecture tours, 306

  loan to Finch, 331

  meeting with lama, 242–3

  nickname, 239

  and 1924 expedition, 306, 312–13, 315, 325, 337

  and 1933 expedition, 386

  and Sangkar Ri climb, 234–5, 239–40

  and use of artificial oxygen, 196, 200, 202, 231, 247–9, 269, 283

  Bruce, Captain Geoffrey, 192–3, 208–10, 213, 216, 241, 246, 300, 312, 318

  climbs with Finch, 252–6, 258, 260, 267, 269–84, 303, 335, 337–40, 344, 352

  Finch–Bruce summit attempt, 269–84

  Finch rescues, 280, 284, 337, 344

  Finch’s assessment of, 209–10

  and 1924 expedition, 338–9

  and 1933 expedition, 386

  Bryn, Alf, 50–2, 150

  Buckingham Palace, 131

  Bullock, Alice, 316

  Bullock, Guy, 162, 177–8, 184, 316