Kingdoms of Experience

by Andrew Greig

  Meanwhile Bob, Urs, Andy Nisbet and Terry set off for ABC to get back into the fray.

  We’d lost three days to bad weather, but Mal wasn’t too worried. We had to expect some storms at this time of year. What was crucial was would the weather improve in the latter part of April through May when we’d be working high on the Ridge. That was the normal weather pattern in this part of the world, with increasingly stable conditions right up to the monsoon, which could arrive any time between the last week in May and the end of June. The monsoon’s arrival was always a great unknown and we had to work on the assumption it would come early.

  So when Jon and Sandy came down with Dave to BC the next day there was need for a general tactical discussion. But when they walked into the Mess Tent Mal was sitting reading a book with his headphones on and just carried on while the rest of us caught up on the latest news from the hill. That astonished me, and pissed off the lads no end, though they kept it to themselves. Jon thought Mal would have to start reconciling his role as a climber and shuffling dosser with being the leader of a large expedition. Everest was not like the Mustagh Tower scaled up, where one could just let things work themselves out between a few climbers who were with each other constantly. This trip needed active, even dominating, leadership, that was just not Mal’s style nor in his experience.

  ‘For fuck’s sake, Duff …’ thought Sandy. I tried to paper over the cracks by being hyper-enthusiastic in getting their tales of doings on the hill. I’d seen this before in Mal. When he is absorbed in something – a book, newspaper, climbing, TV – nothing else exists, his concentration is absolute. That is one of the reasons why he is such a good and safe climber. Liz would try to point out it was rude to carry on reading or viewing when friends dropped in, but it never made much difference. I felt it wasn’t my place to suggest he needed to show more evident interest. Liz might well try to but would probably be told to mind her own business … followed by an apology later. It wasn’t as if Mal wasn’t thinking about the Expedition most of the time, but he had got into the pattern of spending BC days in his tent or reading, as if entirely oblivious of everything going on around about. What he thought or worried about, he seldom confided. I could see it was a strain, this responsibility and isolation. He seemed very abstracted much of the time. This mirrored Sandy’s prevailing mood, for he too often felt apart from everyone, ill at ease among the numbers, thinking of Dominique in the South of France, his future, the meaning of what he was doing, Joe and Pete.

  In retrospect, incidents like Jon and Sandy’s return from ABC were indicative of the nature of the Expedition. There’s no doubt it was a ‘happy Expedition’ without bitter internal divisions or confrontations; we got on well, worked together, shared some laughter and conversation – but we never quite gelled. We lacked the cohesive commitment and the disciplined, organized unity of purpose required for the hardest achievements. We took our cues from each other, and the dominant personal sense of isolation we felt probably came initially from Mal and Sandy.

  It wasn’t till the next day that the necessary discussions took place, over many brews in the Mess Tent. I sat in on it, partly as a recorder and also because the lads seemed to feel that precisely because I wasn’t a lead climber I could be counted on for objective comment when required.

  Sandy Chats and discussions with Mal, Jon, Andy G. Jon and I both notice Mal seems protective and defensive when we mention an idea. We mention this to Mal and he settles a little – I don’t think he looks too well, I wonder how he is, he has not got a nice job, plus the BBC recording and all. Yeah, he’s a little bit stressed and I get the feeling he needs to crawl to some quiet place … We’ve all got such places …

  The talking helped, but there was little we could resolve. We needed a permanent ABC manager and we hadn’t got one. Sarah, Liz, myself and Terry were all prepared to do what we could up to a point, but Terry and I were needed to do some support climbing, together with our other responsibilities, and Liz wanted to climb too. Sarah had paid her own way so had no responsibility to the Expedition; as it turned out she did a great deal, but ABC living was too hard and thankless for her to stay up all the time. Perhaps when more of the lads were sleeping on the hill it would be less necessary. As for standardizing and directing loads, Mal pointed out most of us were at different stages of acclimatization. Bob was clearly struggling desperately, we’d discovered Nick was still suffering from the amoebic dysentery he’d picked up in Nepal, Sandy was having to go easy. He suggested we carried on as before, people picking up from ABC whatever they felt up to carrying that was obviously needed on the hill. Jon gave a slightly cynical grin and remarked on Mal’s touching faith in his climbers’ conscientiousness. Who would willingly wear themselves out carrying big loads when they would then lose the chance of getting out in front, of making 8,000 metres, perhaps getting to lead into the Pinnacles?

  So the conclusion was pretty much carry on as before. But it was agreed that the next three weeks were crucial. We had to carry something like 30 loads up to Camp 2, start acclimatizing to that level by sleeping there, and push the route out along the Ridge to establish a Camp 3 either before or after the Rock Buttresses. Only then could we start moving the oxygen, stoves, food, climbing gear up to near the Pinnacles. This carrying would be punishing and thankless, devoid for the most part of any interesting climbing – only the 1st Buttress offered technical interest. It had to be done as quickly as possible yet without burning ourselves out.

  The conversation later turned to fear, something mountaineers seldom openly discuss. ‘There’s different kinds of fear,’ Mal said. ‘There’s fear on a rock route, gripped out of your skull when you’re in fact only ten feet above a bomb-proof runner. Then there’s fear on an ice-route when you know if you fall off or give in to it, you’re dead …’

  Jon and Sandy nodded. ‘And big-mountain fear is different,’ Jon added, ‘more of a dull ache than a sudden stab. A certain level of anxiety, always there.’

  So Dave left for Lhasa in our jeep, taking with him our thanks, momentary envy, TV and newspaper reports – and most important, our mail. He shook hands all round, took a last lingering look, then set off on the jolting journey back to his normal life, back to family and suits and desk, wondering if he’d ever be able fully to adjust to them again.

  Sandy Let’s go climbing! With an ice-tool and hard blue ice … me, I can see the crystals, place my pick there, oh gently, and rise up to a new crampon hold, points gripping delicately. I like that … millions of crystals, and spaces between them for us folks who know how to find them … That’s my game. I wonder what Dominique plays right now. It’s difficult trying to love an independent woman. But guys like us (thinking too of Andy G.) probably need independent women. With heads, ideas, dreams and convictions of their own. That’s how I like to think it anyways. Long black hait spread on a pillow … But having said that … Let’s Go CLIMBIMG!

  We went climbing. This was the consolidation stage of the Expedition, the time when much of the unglamorous, repetitive and exhausting work gets done. ‘Himalayan thuggery’ Jon calls it. Crawling out of one’s pit, brewing, then gearing up for the day, gather a load and set off … Returning wiped out before sundown; brew, eat, chat if one still has the energy, into one’s pit, take a sleeping pill maybe, then thoughts of home or tomorrow till broken sleep comes … then waking and struggling again out of the warm sleeping bag.

  The following ten days were as productive as they were unspectacular. The weather wasn’t wonderful – still tending to blow a lot in the afternoon – but we only lost one day to it. It was very freewheeling, everyone doing what they felt able to. We quickly found that two consecutive days of carrying from ABC to Camp 2 and back to ABC were the limit. Often a big day out necessitated a rest-day. As people burned out, they went down to BC for a break, and others came up.

  Our loads were primarily gas, stoves, hill-food bags, some climbing gear and rope. The 12 oxygen bottles meant a lot of extra carrying – one was
a reasonable load, two very hard indeed. There were no scales, everyone just picked up what felt possible on that day, but our loads probably varied between 20 and 40 lb. It doesn’t sound much, but at altitude every pound feels like a kilogram at best, a stone at worst.

  As well as carrying loads, everyone needed to aid acclimatization by sleeping at least once at Camp 1 or 2. That meant carrying up a sleeping bag and a few extra bivvy items, which greatly reduced the payload one could carry.

  I have the Roll of Honour on my desk now, pieced together by Sandy. It’s scrawled in blunt pencil on the notebook we kept at ABC as a log, cross-hatched with arrows, corrections, Sandy’s calculations of what was now stocked at each camp, how many loads there were still to go. It’s crumpled, coffee-stained, abruptly broken off –

  April 12 Nick, load to CB’s. Hammered with dysentery. Tony, Rick carried to C2, completed fixed ropes. All back to ABC.

  April 13 Urs, Andy, loads to C2. Urs put a shovel straight through the floor of C2 and found himself looking straight down the Kangshung Face. Bob knackered at 6,400 metres, left load there. All back to ABC. Nick, Sarah to BC.

  On this day Earl Denman, after a desperately cold and sleepless night, set off with Tenzing Norgay and Ang Dawa for the North Col. As far as one can judge by his account, they managed to get only a few hundred yards up the slope and were brought to a standstill by a freezing, howling gale. Unlike his equally single-minded predecessor Maurice Wilson, who’d persisted and died there in similar circumstances in 1934, Denman saw sense at this point. He realized his dream was hopeless, and he turned and practically ran back to their Base Camp, away from the now hateful mountain. What makes, for me, this fiasco something more than a farce is the extent of his bitterness and disillusionment – from being an obsessively anti-materialistic idealist, after Everest he concluded that the majority of people had been right all along, and the only worthwhile objective in life is the acquisition of material wealth. As Terry said, we all came here looking for something – recalling the Denman episode I was reminded that what we find may come as a shock.

  April 14 High winds and extreme cold. Allen, Tony, Terry carried oxygen to Raphu La. Mal and Chris arrived in blizzard, Mal in particular verging on serious exposure. He’d fallen through the ice near ‘Camp 1½’.

  April 15 Urs, Andy, Allen, Bob, loads to 7090, back to ABC. Good day for Old Farts. Unspoken rivalry with Boy Racers. ‘Huh, they didn’t do much!’ Andy G., Liz arrive, Tony down.

  Allen Breakfast is shortbread and cider-flavoured Cremola foam – my appetite is shot! … A monotonous plod across the glacier despite the superb scenery all around. We pick up loads at the Col dump, then off up the ropes. It’s slow, monotonous, numbing work. The angles of course are wrong for everything! A few steps, a rest and so on. We lunch above the ice-bulge, where the going improves and at least it’s new ground for me, following the crest up and right to CB’s, then more of the same, but the steps are better now and easier to follow. You can’t use the jumar properly though, only as a safety runner. Then eventually the crevasse cave after six hours. Had a bit to eat and drink then went down, which was very fast on the ropes. C2 is not as bad as I’d feared but does need some work on it. Then back across the glacier which had grown considerably. Arrive at ABC wrecked. Took me all my time to eat and drink. Bob kept nodding off during conversation. Really, really exhausted but satisfied.

  April 16 Andy N., Urs, loads to C2 (two days running). Also home improvements on C2. Mal, Chris and Danny, loads to C1 and back. Andy G., Terry, loads to Raphu La. Basques dropped in.

  Mal Wattie and I off with two oxygen bottles, awkward bastards but felt really good for the first three rope lengths. After that, a complete collapse. Just made it to CB’s. Met Danny coming up – totally shafted but grinning from ear to ear.

  A mental review of things: generally OK, but a lack of action since I was last up.

  April 17 Bob, Allen, loads to C2, also climbing gear for Andy and Urs. Danny and Terry down to BC. Jon, Rick arrive – forces a bit thin today. Liz, Chris, Andy G. sorted out ABC.

  Bob Allen and I set out to do another carry to 7090 … I’m feeling really awful. After dozing at the ice-bulge for a while I feel a bit better and press on to CB’s, where I meet Allen in descent. Commonsense dictates that I should dump my load there, but I decided to press on until 5.30 pm, which is just enough time to get me to C2. I’m really weary and have to be pathologically careful with the ropes on the descent. Rick kindly comes out to meet me with a hot drink and a rope for the last ten minutes before ABC.

  Terry ‘The genteel art of using a pee bottle’ (Male version).

  Night-time.

  Cold – goes without saying – but usually rime covering everything in tent.

  Urgency about your nether regions.

  Windy outside tent.

  Typically snowing – powder snow.

  You’re usually camped on the side of a cliff with a sheer drop.

  You’re asleep.

  No you’re not.

  You go through the mental check-list above.

  Night, cold, YEOUW my nether regions! Skip the rest of the above.

  Action quick!

  Try to get out of my sleeping bag without waking ‘Charlie’.

  Sod Charlie. The zip’s stuck – how the hell can I get out?

  Wriggle, that’s how!

  No, stop that quick! It makes things more imminent.

  No Charlie, don’t roll over on that bit or you might get a surprise!

  Thank God, he grunted and turned back over again.

  Nearly out of the sleeping-bag – the relief.

  What’s all that wet stuff on my face – is it snowing in here?

  Where’s the head-torch – oh shit, the battery’s nearly gone!

  Thank goodness, it’s only the rime off the inside of the tent.

  Where’s the tent zip?

  Oh Christ it’s snowing out there (as powder snow avalanche falls in through zip opening). I remember what happened last time I had a pee in a storm like that; I had so much snow inside my layers my knees got frostbite.

  I know – the pee bottle. I’ve been meaning to use it for ages!

  Ohh – don’t tell me I’ve left it at home!

  I know (whew!), the ‘5 Pint’ is almost empty.

  Dart to back of tent where food and stoves, etc., are kept.

  Scrabble about – urgently now as the immediacy about nether regions is becoming more imminent by the second!

  Find bottle – the mental relaxation makes the urgency more urgent.

  Tear at zips, layers, etc., in clothing with one hand. Flip top of ‘5 Pint’ bottle with other.

  OOOooo

  OOO – I forgot my thermal undies!

  A quick adjustment and the fountain of golden liquid (very dehydrated) finds its way into the bottle where it belongs.

  Oh bollocks – this isn’t the empty bottle. It’s frothing up! It’s coming over the top!

  Sorry Charlie – didn’t mean to lay a trail all along your sleeping bag.

  It’s bloody difficult to waddle on your knees with one hand between your legs to the front end of the tent again.

  With spare hand manage to unzip tent and fly.

  Hold member in one hand.

  Try to empty frothing ‘5 Pint’ bottle into snow outside tent.

  Fall flat on face in snow.

  Feel silly, but let go with neither hand.

  In this more rational frame of mind, possibly brought on by the snow-in-the-face trick, one has a decision to make!

  Do I let go with one hand and pee all over the place (mainly me), or let go with the other and the pee bottle empties itself all over our doorstep – where do I get the brew from in the morning? This ledge is the only snow catchment for yards up and down this face.

  The brain at altitude struggles to decide … For the next instalment, tune in next week at the same time.

  Now the atmosphere at ABC was one of strong, coherent purpose, of
non-competitive co-operation among the Old Farts. Mal was quite different up there, more actively engaged. Listening, asking questions – can C2 be improved, how’s your head, what do the Rock Buttresses look like? – frowning at the ground, smoking. An unstated sense of rivalry with the Boy Racers was an incentive for both teams, each trying to cap the progress of the other. Chris and Mal had formed a strong partnership – watching the one lanky figure and the other more thickset one set off across the glacier, I mentally nicknamed them ‘the Spider and the Fly’. Chris would return hoarse, whispering and grey, sit for an hour in the Mess Tent in what seemed to be a coma of suspended animation – but he always found fresh energy and commitment the next morning. He and Mal had started sharing a tent at ABC while Liz moved out – this caused much ribald comment, but was indicative of the closeness they felt necessary.

  Danny Lewis was revealing himself as something of a star. Unlike Kurt and Julie, he was now very much part of the Expedition. He earned many Brownie points from the times he spent cooking, brewing and washing up. We teased him a great deal, but increasingly appreciated his boundless humour and good-will as he stumbled about the tent grinning, knocking things over, laughing. His effort in carrying a load to CB’s was an achievement for a 19-year-old rock climber with no winter experience who had never been higher than 4,000 metres before.

  Andy Nisbet and Urs had emerged as a strong team; the unlikely combination of the chortling Swiss and the reserved Aberdonian worked out well. Mal was delighted that his gamble on Andy’s ability to acclimatize had paid off – as it had with Allen Fyffe. That counter-balanced disappointment over Bob and Nick, and Sandy’s set back. There was still uncertainty as to how high Andy could go. But he’d find out soon enough, because Mal decided that with more than a third of our loads now up at C2, it was time to push out the route further, over the Rock Buttresses.