We were warm in our sleeping-bags, while outside the snow was falling thick and fast. By the dim light of the hanging lamp I could barely see the smoke curling up from our cigarettes, and Terray’s face was hidden in the shadows. We kept coming back to our plan of attack, and wondered how soon Noyelle would arrive from Tukucha with our main supply of food and equipment. But we were tired, and Terray, economical as ever, soon put out the light. In a few minutes we sank into oblivion.
In the dark somebody knocked against me, I heard a steady muttering – a hand brushed my face and the light went on. ‘Time to be up,’ said Terray.
He put his boots on and went out to wake his Sherpas. All through the expedition he remained faithful to his tactics of the early start. And he was certainly right, for the snow is far better during the first hours of daylight. But it needed resolution, and only he seemed to have it. I shut my eyes again and reflected with deep satisfaction that while others were sweating their guts out I should be warm and snug and pampered by the Sherpas. At the first streaks of dawn I heard a deep: ‘Goodbye, then, Maurice.’
‘Good luck!’
Terray closed the tent carefully. He was an invaluable chap. I know no one in France who comes nearer to being the ideal member of an expedition.
The hours went by and the sun lit up my tent and warmed it. The camp was silent as the grave. My two Sherpas were recuperating too. But it was getting late and from my sleeping-bag I called out.
‘Angdawa! Khana! Khana!’
I heard muffled sounds, then: ‘Yes, sir!’ and I guessed that preparations were somehow getting under way.
With depressing slowness I extricated myself from my bedding, took my frozen boots, and began tapping them before putting them on. I put on my eiderdown jacket, my cap and glasses, and was then ready to go outside. The weather was magnificent but the valley down below was filled with a splendid sea of clouds. Above, everything was perfectly clear. There had been a heavy fall of snow during the night and I thought that Terray would be finding the going very bad. Looking through the glasses I followed his tracks and soon picked up his party just at the first ice wall. He and his Sherpas were battling their way up and must have been breathless with the struggle. I examined the neighbourhood of Camp III and saw two black specks leave it and come down. But they ought all to have been continuing up to Camp IV; I was afraid that their physical condition must have taken the heart out of them.
Heavy clouds appeared in the Miristi Khola Valley, and their unusual colour bothered me; I had gloomy forebodings about the outcome of the day. Could the clouds be the precursors of the monsoon?
Dawathondup was feeling worse and worse and I decided to send him down in the first party returning to Camp I. For the moment he lay in his sleeping-bag, moaning and holding his stomach with both hands.
Snow began to fall again; I went into my tent and lay on my air mattress day-dreaming. Before long I heard shouts. I thought it was sure to be Lachenal and shouted back. There was such a maze of tracks on the plateau that a sound signal might well be useful. A few minutes later he arrived, with Couzy.
‘No use going on,’ said Lachenal, ‘my stomach was all inside out.’
‘And I had the most appalling headaches,’ said Couzy. ‘Even with aspirin and sleeping-tablets I couldn’t sleep a wink.’
‘If only you could have heard him,’ Lachenal began again. ‘He moaned all night, and said he felt as if his skull was splitting.’
‘It’s the altitude,’ I said. ‘You were perfectly right to come down. What about the others? Will they go up again with Lionel?’
‘We weren’t feeling enterprising up there,’ explained Lachenal, ‘particularly after all the snow that fell during the night. I can’t really tell you, but I think they were waiting for Lionel before deciding.’
We went inside the tent. Lachenal visibly relished the comfort it offered. Couzy’s headache had disappeared as he came down. It commonly happens – as soon as you descend a few hundred yards all the ills due to altitude disappear. While the two of them were changing and getting dry, I went off to find out from Angdawa what there was for lunch. There must be no hesitation about killing the fatted calf to raise my friends’ morale! In spite of their exertions they had scarcely eaten a thing since the day before yesterday.
We managed a very substantial meal, and, to my great satisfaction, Lachenal and Couzy did full justice to it; then we lay down and chatted in a more cheerful frame of mind. As we were taking it easy like this, Angdawa poked his panic-stricken little face through the opening of the tent and cried out:
‘Bara Sahib! Other Sahibs come!’
Then, after a moment’s silence:
‘Bara Sahib, hear!’
And indeed I heard someone calling.
As it was still snowing steadily I quickly put on my gaiters and anorak and went out. I could not see more than ten yards. From time to time I distinctly heard shouts. It was certainly a Sahib, for the Sherpas could make themselves understood over great distances. The voice did not come from the direction of Camp III, but from a point much nearer the Cauliflower Ridge. There were two possibilities: either it was someone coming from Camp III who had gone off to the left and who now found himself among the crevasses, or else it was someone from Camp I who had gone up too high. Anyway they were in no danger, because there is never any mistaking a cry of ‘Help!’ in the mountains. I gave an answering shout, and in spite of the distance the man heard; he appeared to move to the left – he had understood. His shouts came nearer and I was able to give directions.
‘Keep left, always to the left, beside the big crevasse.’
I went on repeating this until he answered that he had understood.
A quarter of an hour later a reeling white ghost appeared; I had difficulty in recognizing it as Schatz.
‘Where’s Rébuffat?’
‘I came down alone.’
‘Alone? You’re crazy! In this weather and over that ground?’ I felt the blood rushing to my face.
‘But my dear chap,’ said Schatz, ‘I couldn’t do anything else. I felt completely done up at Camp III. I was quite incapable of helping Lionel tomorrow, and just a useless mouth to feed, so I decided to come down.’
I was really angry. It was, I think, the first time since the beginning of the Expedition that I had been roused like this.
‘And so, in a place like this, you, practically a sick man, go and run useless risks! Just imagine, a simple slip, like the other day – and suppose Angdawa hadn’t heard your shouts …’
However, it was over and done with. The thing now was to help Schatz forget the strain of his lone descent. Hot tea and a good meal brought the colour back to his face. And then he, too, became infected by the pervasive optimism of the camp and began to see the future in a rosier light.
‘Did Lionel reach Camp III all right?’ I asked him.
‘The deep snow had slowed him up a lot. When Gaston and I were coming down we ran into him in the mist. He was in such tremendous form that we went back with him.’
‘How was it that Gaston didn’t come down with you afterwards?’
‘I’ll explain: we talked it all over. Lionel said that Camp IV ought, properly, to be organized by the four who had slept at Camp III the night before – Couzy, Lachenal, Rébuffat and myself. Even though two had gone down, the job ought to be done.’
‘So you decided to go up with him?’
‘Exactly.’
As usual Terray had put efficiency before everything else. He considered it his plain duty to do so. But Schatz went on:
‘As I was so tired, I told Lionel that rather than conk out next day on the slope, it seemed far better for me to go down to recuperate. Later, I could make a rope with Couzy.’
‘So tomorrow Lionel and Gaston will be going right up?’
‘Yes, if it’s fine enough.’
Would they really be able to go on? Perhaps they were now to be given the real, longed-for chance.
Outside, t
he Sherpas were talking excitedly. What was going on now? I put my head out and saw Ajeeba, who had just come up from Camp I, followed by a number of porters. Behind him was a coolie whom Ichac had dubbed ‘the Chinee’. Later we learned that his real name was Pandy. He had come up to Camp II easily, in spite of the technical difficulties; he was a sort of honorary Sherpa. To celebrate this promotion, we made him a present of a magnificent nylon waistcoat which he wore with great pride. Ajeeba handed me two notes which I read aloud in the tent:
Camp I,
May 29th, 1950
Marcel Ichac to Maurice Herzog
Angtharkay arrived 12.10. There are twenty-two loads at Base Camp.
Available to carry loads between Base Camp and Camp I – the Chinee, and a young gigolo brought up by Angtharkay. Angtharkay is going down again to Base Camp to meet Noyelle and his fifteen coolies and try to keep some of them on, to ferry loads. Send Ajeeba back as soon as possible with a list of things urgently required (high-altitude tents?).
Do you need us to convoy Sherpas between Camps II and III, and if so, when?
MARCEL ICHAC
Splendid news! With Noyelle coming up, we were certain now of being revictualled and supported by the main bulk of our equipment. There was great rejoicing in the camp.
The second note was a message in which Noyelle acknowledged receipt of my order of the day and announced his arrival in force. This note was dispatched from Tukucha on the 25th, the day after Sarki’s arrival there. Good old Sarki! He had taken barely thirty-six hours to cover a distance which normally took four or five days; he had deserved well of the Expedition, and at the proper time the leader would know how to show his gratitude.
These happy events called for the opening of a bottle of rum. But there was no time to lose. Ajeeba would have to go down again immediately to get on with the load-carrying. I wrote a note at once to the Sahibs at the lower camps.
Camp II,
May 29th, 1950
Herzog to Noyelle, Matha and all other Sahibs
Congratulations to Noyelle for the speed with which he’s got going. It means a lot to us all. Yesterday Camp IV was established at 23,500 feet on the upper part of the handle of the Sickle. At this moment Terray, Rébuffat and two Sherpas are at Camp III (21,650 feet).
Our immediate objective is to pitch Camp V before the final assault which will be carried out by parties in succession.
For Matha: Urgent: Sarki, Ajeeba, Phutharkay and the Chinee to come up tomorrow very early with an extra valley tent and two lots of bedding (mattresses and sleeping-bag), plus a petrol stove and a quart of petrol (a large Coleman), also refills for the cine-camera (I have taken a certain number which I’m sending back), also some more medical supplies: sleeping-tablets, aspirin – the equivalent of ten tubes, ten tubes of rosat cream, tubes of anti-frostbite ointment (8), five tubes of anti-sunburn cream; Tschamba-Fii,1 four pairs of Tricouni gaiters and one extra high-altitude unit.
Complete the loads with food: put in some saucisson and a bottle of cognac.
From Lachenal’s sack get stockings, socks (three pairs), camp boots, a shirt and pair of pants.
We’ll be calling you on the walkie-talkie at 8 o’clock this evening.
Couzy and Schatz go down tomorrow and will give further instructions.
Important: send all this off very early, as I shall be waiting to go up with Sarki, Phutharkay and Biscante to Camp III. Given good weather, we have high hopes.
MAURICE HERZOG
Ajeeba and the Chinee had brought up a high-altitude unit, food and a walkie-talkie. In the evening, at 8 o’clock as arranged, we intended to try to establish communication – at long last. This would make things much easier.
I was well satisfied with the way Noyelle was doing his job – he was showing the stuff he was made of. Without him there would have been no hope of getting up before the monsoon. I went off to have a look at Dawathondup whom I wished to send down as soon as possible. I found a very sick man – he looked almost at death’s door – and I had not the heart to send him down in weather like this. He would have to go tomorrow.
Ajeeba did not waste a minute. This time he had no load and he disappeared rapidly with his great ungainly strides, followed by the Chinee trotting along behind him. In a few minutes they had vanished into the mist.
I set up the walkie-talkie. From time to time I pressed the button.
‘Hallo, Maurice speaking. Can you hear me, Matha?’
All I heard was crackling. After a while I made out some wild Indian music – it almost set me dancing a jig up there, at nearly 20,000 feet, in the heart of the Himalaya.
‘Hallo, Herzog speaking. Are you receiving me, Matha?’
Still no answer.
At 8.15, in accordance with our previous arrangements, I shut off. This matter of wireless communication on expeditions ought to be perfected. It was the only oversight I had to regret, but it was a big one. I went back into the tent, a little depressed by this setback, and found the others nearly asleep.
Next morning was fine, the light was brilliant and the sun was already beating down on the tent. I felt well rested and it was not long before I was up and having a look outside. The snow crystals sparkled in the sun like so many diamonds: it must have been a cold night. Our plan was simple: we would have to wait for the convoy from Camp I, which I hoped would not be long in arriving, and then set off immediately with fresh loads for Camp III. Couzy and Schatz were still not very fit: while Couzy preferred to remain where he was to recuperate, Schatz was definitely in favour of going lower down, and he decided to descend to Camp I. He would escort Dawathondup who was still, after three days, in the same state. Lachenal was a different man – I saw this by the way he got out of his sleeping-bag, went off to see what the Sherpas were doing, and looked up for signs of Terray. His morale seemed much better: would his physical fitness come back too? If so we should both be able to leave, and constitute the second party.
‘What on earth can Ajeeba be doing?’ I said impatiently. ‘I particularly asked them at Camp I to send him off early so that we ourselves should have time to leave Camp II today.’ We took it in turns to look through the glasses.
‘Look, Biscante! You can spot Rébuffat and Terray moving along with their Sherpas.’
‘They’re going very slowly.’
‘The snow’s deep and it’s making it difficult for them.’
Bluish mist – a very good sign – rose up from the depths of the Miristi Khola before being dispersed by the sun. We took some photographs of ourselves and of the mountains round us.
‘Midday, and still no Ajeeba!’
We embarked on a great discussion about Chamonix guides, and Lachenal aired his views on his profession. The hours went by, and while Schatz got ready to go down with Dawathondup, it became obvious to me that it was too late for us to go up to Camp III that day.
‘Salaam, Bara Sahib!’
‘Salaam!’
It was six o’clock when Angtharkay, Phutharkay and Sarki arrived and I was very glad indeed to see them: they had brought up heavy loads with equipment, food, and – most welcome this – a second valley tent for Camp II. Before the light went we had a look through the glasses at Camp IV, but we saw no movement. No doubt the party had already settled in for the night – the lack of activity was a good sign. Tomorrow they would go on to establish Camp V.
Angtharkay was wreathed in smiles; he, too, seemed pleased to see us. His little trip to Muktinath had been a great joy to him and he was still feeling the thrill of it. Now that I had him with me I felt much less anxious; with his great Himalayan experience, Angtharkay knew what to do and what not to do, and he had no hesitation about taking the initiative; his authority over the Sherpas lifted a weight off my shoulders. Angtharkay undid the loads and handed me a note from Ichac, Noyelle and Oudot:
30.5.50
(1) Impossible to get the Sherpas off first thing this morning, since we didn’t get your note until late yesterday and the Sherpas
and equipment were at Base Camp.
(2) We are sending you Angtharkay, Sarki and Phutharkay. They are bringing up everything you asked for (complete); fix up about the bedding with the Sherpas.
(3) Tomorrow we’ll send up a food convoy, perhaps accompanied by one of us, to Camp II.
(4) Leave any messages at Camp II.
(5) If you require one of us to escort Sherpas carrying food to Camp III, let us know.
(6) Wireless R.T.: heard nothing. Try again at 17 hrs. 19 hrs. 20 hrs. We’ve got a big receiver set.
(7) We are in the midst of temporary disturbances caused by the monsoon. The monsoon itself is advancing over Calcutta. It is ahead of time.
(8) G. B. has gone down to Base Camp. Send us news. A runner will leave here tomorrow. G. B. will go back to Tukucha.
(9) What are you doing about the return journey? The coolie situation will be critical: it takes eight days between giving the order here and the arrival of a first batch – only twenty at a time. Good hunting!
F. D. N., ICHAC, OUDOT
P.S. from Ichac: For taking cine-shots in colour: when the light is full strength you can go up to F. 11.
It was too late for a wireless message at 17 hrs., but I would try at 19 hrs., this time, I hoped, with more success. The news about the monsoon was worrying: it would be heart-breaking to be stopped by its sudden arrival now we were nearing our goal. If it had already begun in the region of Calcutta it would be only a few days before it reached us here. I tried to establish wireless communication with Camp I, but with no success. To give the people at Camp I the latest news, I decided to answer their note at the last possible moment before leaving.
The sunset was magnificent; the precipices of the Nilgiris and of Annapurna turned from gold to orange, and orange to purple; the sky was pure and clear; it was very cold; all excellent signs. Were these last days of fine weather to be our final chance? The Nilgiris were now in shadow and the upper rocks of Annapurna had turned to old rose; when the rest of the mountain was already plunged in darkness one last point – the summit – held the light for a few seconds longer.
Annapurna Page 17