May 18th, 1950
Dear Noyelle,
I am now at the Base Camp. Lionel and Biscante have just come back from the spur, and are fairly hopeful about it. We are keeping to the same tactics: we remain a strong reconnaissance party. At the moment the weather is bad, and this threatens to delay operations considerably.
Provisions: I’m afraid I may be a bit short. Please send up at once three Base Camp containers, three high-altitude containers, and one container of heavy’2 tins.
Equipment: 10 rock-pitons, 10 ice-pitons. 300 feet of nylon line and 3 50-foot full-weight ropes. 2 high-altitude units.
Porters: Pay off the porters of the first party and give them all the same baksheesh. Pay off the second party too: full baksheesh to those who have a note for you. The two old boys half baksheesh, and nothing to the others as they didn’t go well.
Future provisions: After the dispatch of what I have asked for, could you, unless you hear to the contrary, send up three more Base Camp containers, and three high-altitude containers?
Matha and Oudot: For the moment, there’s nothing to tell them; bad weather has so far prevented me from seeing Annapurna. As soon as there is any news I will send it.
Greetings from us all,
MAURICE
On May 14th, the day on which we had held our council of war, after we had made the decision to turn our attention towards Annapurna, Ichac had told me of his wish to pay a visit to Muktinath with Oudot, I said goodbye to them on the 15th, before leaving for Annapurna. They set off next morning, accompanied by the Sirdar Angtharkay, for whom Muktinath was the holy of holies. A fervent believer, zealous in all his religious practices, he took this as a unique opportunity to go on a pilgrimage so many of his brethren had had to renounce. All day long the little party ascended by the right bank of the Gandaki and by the end of the afternoon they came in sight of a large group of buildings: white houses, red temples, the whole dominated by a ruined Tibetan fortress. Angtharkay, in transports of excitement, announced: ‘Muktinath!’
As they approached this marvellous city the fine buildings turned out to be dirty and dilapidated. At the end of the village were a few bedaubed chortens. Where, then, were the temples, the monasteries and the multitudes of Lamas? Over to the east Marcel Ichac saw some rather newer buildings protected by zinc roofs. Making some inquiries, he discovered that Muktinath consisted of only five or six buildings, and that this was Chahar. It couldn’t be helped, the pilgrimage would have to be put off to the following morning. They found shelter for the night in a ruined castle, made a quick meal and went to bed before the interested gaze of fifty natives.
Next day at crack of dawn they started up towards the holy place. After leaving their horses at the door of the first building, they passed by a rock on which there was a vague imprint, something like the shape of a foot.
‘Buddha, Sahib!’ Angtharkay cried out, throwing himself on the ground.
They passed by a first temple, rather like the one at Tukucha, and came to the sacred fountains: water from the stream ran along a horizontal conduit and fed some sixty spouts in the form of cows or dragons. In the centre of the square was a Nepalese gompa. Some pilgrims came to fill up their vessels and drink. Angtharkay, carrying one of the expedition’s water-bottles, made a tour of every fountain, and our two friends were not able to use the bottle for the rest of the trip.
A little way to the south they visited another temple guarded by a dozen maidens, dressed in coloured robes. A stone was lifted up and Ichac and Oudot were shown two narrow apertures. Along them came the sound of the flowing water, and in them flickered the blue flame of a natural gas which burned perpetually. The vestals sang and danced, and the Sahibs offered their mites; Angtharkay showed himself particularly generous with the Expedition’s cash.
Early next afternoon the pilgrims were back at Tukucha where Noyelle was awaiting them impatiently, for he, too, was very keen to go to Muktinath. His turn came next day, with G. B. Rana. Then on May 20th at 9.30 Angdawa and Dawathondup arrived, bringing the message written at the Base Camp near the spur, after Lachenal and Terray had come back from their reconnaissance.
1 Rocks are graded according to their difficulty from grade 1, the easiest, to grade 6, the hardest, reaching the limits of the possible. Only very few climbers get to grade 6. Most of the classic expeditions in the Alps are grade 4. In the Himalaya where the altitude makes every movement more of an effort, parties do their best to avoid all climbing difficulties. Where these are met, they do not generally exceed grade 4.
2 Expedition slang: tins containing main meals.
8
The Spur
WE WERE UP and doing before dawn on May 19th, in our provisional Base Camp at the foot of the spur.
It was still pitch dark. The Sherpas could not make out what this untimely commotion was all about. On other expeditions they had never left before sun-up! Still half asleep they prepared Nesthé and Tonimalt while Rébuffat, Terray and Schatz packed their sacks. Then the climbers went off one by one across the moraine and disappeared into the night. I was not long in following and, my eyes still heavy with sleep, I stumbled over the loose stones which I could hardly see in the dark. I made for the foot of the spur, and the clink of ice-axe on rock soon told me the others were not far away; we had one more moraine to cross. We were all heavily laden with equipment for three camps and several days’ food. The Sherpas would carry the loads up as high as they could and then go back to the Base Camp as quickly as possible so as not to use up the high-altitude provisions. It was daylight when we reached the snow – it was hard, and my vibram soles held nicely. Our progress was slow, and somewhat laboured, but we gained height steadily.
Was it really going to be fine? Since leaving Tukucha I had barely seen a glimpse of blue sky, and at the risk of slipping on the hard snow of this steep slope, I kept on turning round to admire the view. We were completely overwhelmed by the Great Barrier whose average height I put at nearly 23,000 feet. Its defences culminated in a gigantic and inaccessible keep, right in the centre, and its precipitous walls rose 10,000 feet above the camp. The rock was smooth and offered no irregularity, no line of weakness on which the trained eye of a mountaineer might hope to trace out a possible route. Annapurna was a giant fortress and we were still only on the outer defences.
We were in a savage and desolate cirque of mountains never before seen by man. No animal or plant could exist here. In the pure morning light this absence of all life, this utter destitution of nature, seemed only to intensify our own strength. How could we expect anyone else to understand the peculiar exhilaration that we drew from this barrenness, when man’s natural tendency is to turn towards everything in nature that is rich and generous?
We were nearly as high as Mont Blanc, and it was extremely cold. Everybody was out of breath, and went at his own pace. When we reached the saddle the sun had risen, and whereas a moment ago those stupendous walls had been dark and ominous, now they glowed with light. We had to make for the foot of the ridge proper, and Terray, who had come with us in spite of his previous day’s exhaustion, pointed out the line of attack. We took the ropes out of our sacks, and tied on. The previous day’s party had left a rope fixed here all ready for us, and we started up rock which, though limestone, was relatively firm. Sarki was on my rope; Rébuffat followed with Ajeeba, Terray with Aila and Schatz.
If the solution of the problem lay up the spur we must reach it quickly, and we determined to go all out. The plan was that as soon as the ground became too difficult for the Sherpas they would put down their loads and go down again, while the four Sahibs would go on and pitch a tent as high as possible, where Rébuffat and I would sleep. Terray and Schatz would go back to the shoulder, where Lachenal would join Terray in the evening, after resting from his exertions the day before. As for Schatz, he would return to Base Camp and come up again the following day with Couzy, and so make a third assault party; they would organize a camp on the shoulder.
The
first part was soon accomplished: we sent back the Sherpas, who lost a great deal of time on the difficult rock. I noticed, however, how quickly they adapted themselves to the terrain, though up till now they had had little experience of this kind of thing. Sarki in particular, I thought, would be capable of leading a party on quite difficult rock. After they had gone we gained height rapidly: we surveyed, as from an aeroplane, the continuation of our spur, which from here looked quite attractive. We could also see the glaciers flowing down on both sides of our ridge. The clouds, as usual, were low down, obscuring any view of the mountains around us.
The ridge narrowed and put us in mind of our own splendid Chamonix aiguilles. The rock was good, and if it had not been for our loads and for the height it would have been a really enjoyable climb. Then it became very cold and started to snow. We were certainly above 18,000 feet. I looked up the ridge and tried to spot a site for the tent. For the moment we could see nothing but some unsatisfactory-looking ledges, and these were few and far between. The weather was threatening and we had to come to some decision, particularly as it was getting late and Schatz and Terray wanted to go back. We were holding on with our hands to a blade-thin little rock ridge, while our feet dangled against the rock. The exposure was considerable – I couldn’t remember anything quite so steep in the Alps. The few rocks sticking out from the slope were covered with ice. I could not understand how snow could ever lie on these slopes and I realized why avalanches were so frequent.
After this delicate traverse we came to a small triangular snow-covered shelf. The weather had now turned really bad, and we straightaway decided to pitch our tent here, setting to work at once, hurling the snow off either side of the ridge and so starting avalanches; some ice-covered rocks went the same way. But even after this clearing of the decks there was hardly room for two of us to sit down. We tried to prise up some rocks embedded in the ice, hacking away in turn, or plying our axes as levers. Terray angrily grabbed my axe and struck such furious blows that the rock seemed likely to split – alas, it was the axe that gave way; the blade was literally bent double! Fortunately he succeeded in straightening it again. The site now looked more promising, and Terray and Schatz could leave us. In five minutes they had disappeared from sight. But I was worried about them – climbing at this height in fresh snow is highly dangerous.
Rébuffat and I were now alone. We went on working away at our emplacement for all we were worth – that is to say, as quickly as our want of breath would allow us. We prised up an enormous stone and placed it carefully on the edge of the slope to extend the surface at our disposal. We consolidated the whole with snow, levelled it and then at last began to get the tent up. We fastened it in front with pitons hammered into the rock, and at the back to our ice-axes driven in up to the hilt, and we fixed the guy-ropes to stones instead of to pegs. The careful Rébuffat made a little wall on the edge of the precipice to protect himself from the wind, and prudently put in a good strong piton for us to belay ourselves to. To this piton we remained roped all night.
Snow fell relentlessly, with never a break; the cold became unbearable. Had there ever been such an airy camp as this, we wondered, or one which had been wrested from the mountains with such difficulty? Tea cheered us up a little. We had very little appetite, but dutifully swallowed the vitascorbol and B2 vitamins advised by the doctor. The wind howled, the tent shook; our thoughts went round and round in circles; we could not get to sleep for a long time.
At dawn it was still snowing slightly; the rocks had quite a thick covering of powder snow which discouraged any hope of our being able to go on. We decided to wait for better weather, and if it did not improve we would go down at midday, leaving everything in place for our return to the attack. The most difficult pitch was directly above our tent. It consisted of a block split at the top by a little crack which had to be reached – but heaven knew how, for everything was covered with snow. Rébuffat thought it was hopeless and was all for going down at once. But I wanted to exhaust every possibility and so avoid any future regrets. If the weather improved the snow might melt quickly and allow reasonable progress.
‘They’re coming! Listen, that’s their ice-axes.’
Lachenal and Terray appeared on the ridge.
‘What the hell are you doing here?’ they asked. ‘Are you resting?’
‘Can’t you see the snow?’
‘We’ve seen just as much as you have. More than you, for we’ve been climbing since dawn to get here.’
‘You’re a pair of sissies,’ growled Lachenal crossly.
‘It would be mad to go on,’ retorted Rébuffat. ‘I’ve no wish to come off here.’
‘We’ll show you who’s coming off,’ said Lachenal, quite beside himself. And without waiting another minute he flung himself at this pitch which he had already climbed two days before. He began a traverse to the left on particularly insecure snow; it was just lying loose on the slope, but when he stepped on it, it packed and adhered to the rock. At the very end of this ledge was a crack up which he climbed for about ten feet; all the holds were covered with ice. I glanced at Terray, to whom he was roped, and saw that he had him well belayed. Lachenal now set to work on an outsize open corner and cleared a crack which he tried to use. His feet slipped, and only by a miracle did his hands hold. He came down, hammered in a piton which wobbled and inspired no confidence, but he stepped on to it without any hesitation. How on earth was he to get any higher? He took his ice-axe, which was all wet, jammed it an inch or so in the crack and pulled on it hard to see if it held: the axe moved up and down in the crack, but by jerking it he succeeded in jamming it firmly in. Then he hung on by both arms to the shaft of the axe, took his foot off the piton and made a desperate effort to gain a few inches. I was not at all happy: it seemed to me that it was wrong to take such risks in the present conditions. I kept close to Terray in case it should be necessary to hold Lachenal on the rope, but had hardly time to say a word before Lachenal was up, having surmounted the difficult stretch in a really masterly fashion. Without losing a second Terray followed and fixed a second piton and some nylon line.
Closing the tent and shouldering our packs, Rébuffat and I started off too, and a few moments later joined the other rope on a comfortable stance protected by a great shelter stone. Here, of course, was where we ought to have pitched our camp, but the filthy weather of the previous day had made it impossible. Today we were still surrounded by clouds, but through some rifts I was able to see, over on my left, the final ice-fall of the north Annapurna glacier of which I had so far had only indistinct views.
We held a brief consultation. The only one to take an optimistic view of the route up the spur was Lionel Terray. Lachenal, having made such a to-do when he joined us, was now of the opinion that we should never finish with this endless ridge. Rébuffat was pessimistic. As for myself, I had come to the conclusion that in all probability the spur would not prove to be the way up Annapurna because, even if we found later that the route itself would go, it would be out of the question to bring the whole Expedition up it. Obviously, the route was so long and difficult that, in the event of prolonged bad weather, the premature arrival of the monsoon, or any injury to a climber which involved carrying him down, our situation might well become highly dangerous.
Much the same reasoning had already made me give up Dhaulagiri. Lionel Terray was so confident, so enthusiastic, that no arguments in favour of caution had the slightest effect on him. I found it hard to discourage so much perseverance, and in particular that burning desire, which I could so well understand, to go all out on the mountain. On the other hand I did not wish to delay future operations by even one single day.
As I looked once more at the glacier, and the enormous ice-fall down below, I felt in my bones that if there was a way up Annapurna, that was where it lay. So another plan began to take shape in my mind. Rébuffat and Lachenal, who had not the least wish to continue up the spur, would go back as quickly as possible to the temporary Base Camp. The
y would then take a Sherpa with them, and attempt to force a way – which to all appearances would be found along the right bank – up the glacier to the plateau which, we guessed, lay beyond the ice-fall on the north face. If they were successful they would have to send us word at once. Meanwhile, Terray and I would continue up the spur to set our minds finally at rest over the possibilities of this route. So Lachenal and Rébuffat left us, taking with them instructions for Couzy and Schatz to come up the following day either to back us up, or to help us get everything off the spur.
Terray and I put the tent up. I looked forward to spending a night high up with him for the first time. The weather was very poor. Our aim was to take as little with us as possible and to press on with all speed in order to settle once for all the question of the spur.
We slept like logs, but Terray, who always wakes on the dot, was up and moving soon after dawn. Snugly installed in my sleeping-bag I played at being the Bara Sahib: Terray made the tea, opened tins and served me my breakfast in bed. We stepped out into the fresh snow, which had been falling thickly for two days. We felt the height badly while we were still cold. Although we were carrying very little, it was a tremendous strain at first; but we gritted our teeth and went on, for we did not want to lose a minute. We felt it was a sort of commando raid we were engaged on.
After an easy chimney we came out again upon the ridge which gradually became so narrow that we could not walk along it in balance. So we followed the crest, hanging on by our hands, as though we were traversing an immense horizontal bar, with our feet dangling against the steep sides. We progressed like this over a precipice of some six or seven thousand feet. Gradually we approached the famous snow ridge which Lachenal and Terray had told us about. Their remarks had been so contradictory that I had every reason to be anxious about this obstacle. In fact, as we came nearer, it showed itself to be very high and very steep. Without hesitating a minute Terray went ahead and I followed a short distance behind him. The slope began with an elegant crescent moon, then it did indeed become excessively steep, and soon I felt not only snow under my crampons but hard ice lying just beneath. While Terray was cutting steps with tremendous whacks, I stuck some ice-pitons into the slope to belay him. Luckily the thin layer of snow was extremely hard, and it was not necessary to make very large steps. By skirting round to the left we were able to avoid a steep ice wall. I hammered in an ice-piton regularly every rope’s length, and Terray did the same, and as I came up I collected the pitons – we had to be very economical since we were carrying only a limited supply of them. Our noses were right up against the slope, and often hand-holds as well as foot-holds had to be cut in the ice. We now came to the first rock gendarmes of the ridge – they were overhanging. What a series of disappointments!
Annapurna Page 11