The Ascent of Rum Doodle

by W E Bowman

  Just before we reached port I received a radio message: UNFORTUNATELY MISDIRECTED BUENOS AIRES SEND FIFTY MILLION PEONS JUNGLE.

  *

  The rail journey was uneventful. Burley was down with heat lassitude and Prone contracted malaria. Constant remarked that it was a good thing we had a doctor with us. I am sorry to have to record that Prone took exception to this innocent remark and was quite rude to poor Constant, but the latter generously overlooked this as being due to Prone’s condition. Constant went into the native portion of the train to improve his knowledge of the language, but soon afterwards a riot broke out and he thought it advisable to retire. He explained that the natives were really friendly people of imperturbable dignity and cheerfulness, but they sometimes allowed themselves to be upset by trifles. We enquired the nature of this particular trifle, but Constant said it was difficult to explain to a European. Wish spent most of the journey with a stop-watch in his hand timing the telegraph posts in order to calculate the speed of the train. This worked out at 153 miles per hour, but he thought that a certain amount of experimental error should be allowed to cover irregularities in the spacing of the posts. Burley gave him a check and found that the hand of the stop-watch had stuck. This caused much amusement.

  *

  Our arrival at Chaikhosi was a big event, both for ourselves and for the local people. Constant had arranged that the 3,000 porters should meet the train, so that no time would be lost. As we pulled in we were surprised and gratified to see that a great crowd, which stretched as far as we could see, had assembled to welcome us. When we put our heads out of the window we were greeted by a deafening cheer. Constant remarked on the friendliness of the natives, which, he said, was one of their chief characteristics.

  As we stepped off the train we were met by a dignitary whom I assumed to be the local Clang, or headman. Constant engaged him in conversation, putting on his most diplomatic air. They spoke together for several minutes, and a European onlooker might have been forgiven for concluding that they were quarrelling violently; but I told myself that this, no doubt, was the local idiom.

  Finally, Constant told us that this was not the Clang at all, but the Bang, or foreman porter, and that the multitude before us were the porters he had ordered.

  ‘If you ask me,’ said Prone, ‘there are a lot more than three thousand of them.’

  I was of the same opinion, but Constant said that nobody had asked Prone and he was sure the number was correct.

  ‘Why not ask your friend?’ Prone suggested.

  Constant engaged the Bang in another lengthy bout, after which he told us that the man spoke an obscure dialect and did not seem fully conversant with standard Yogistani.

  ‘Let’s count ’em, then,’ said Prone. ‘Line ’em up ten deep.’

  Constant turned again to the Bang, and after much noise and gesticulation he explained to us that there was no Yogistani phrase for ten deep and, since military training was unknown in the country, the idea of lining up was not easily conveyed to the Yogistani mind.

  I told Constant we would leave him to thrash the matter out with the Bang. He said it was a good idea; we were probably making the poor fellow nervous. As we left they went to it again, holding three fingers in the air and scratching on the dusty ground with sticks.

  At the post office a surprise awaited me in the form of a letter from Jungle. He had arrived by plane three days previously and had gone ahead to break the trail.

  *

  We spent a hungry and uncomfortable night in the station waiting room, for until the dispute with the Bang was settled our equipment could not be unloaded, and in the absence of Constant we dared not risk a night in the local hotel. At daybreak I walked over to the train, to find Constant and the Bang still at it. The former explained to me that the Yogistani word for three was identical with the word for thirty, except for a kind of snort in the middle. It was, of course, impossible to convey this snort by telegram, and the Bang had chosen to interpret the message as ordering 30,000 porters. The 30,000 were making a considerable noise outside, and Constant told me that they were demanding food and a month’s pay. He was afraid that if we refused they would loot the train.

  There was nothing for it but to meet their demands. The 30,000 were fed – at considerable trouble and expense – and three days later we were able to set off with the chosen 3,000 on our 500-mile journey. The 375 boys who completed our force were recruited on the spot. Boys are in plentiful supply in Yogistan; it appears that their mothers are glad to get rid of them.

  *

  The journey to the Rum Doodle massif was uneventful. We travelled along a series of river gorges deeply cut between precipitous ridges which rose to heights of 30,000 feet and more. Sometimes we crossed from one valley to another over passes some 20,000 feet above sea level, dropping again to river beds elevated a mere 153 feet or so.

  The steepness of the valleys was such that the vegetation ranged from tropical to arctic within the distance of a mile, and our botanists were in their element. I am no naturalist myself, but I tried to show an intelligent interest in the work of the others, encouraging them to come to me with their discoveries. I am indebted to them for what small knowledge I possess in this field.

  The lower slopes were gay with Facetia and Persiflage, just then at their best, and the nostrils were continually assailed with the disturbing smell of Rodentia. Nostalgia, which flourishes everywhere but at home, was plentiful, as was the universal Wantonia. Higher up, dark belts of Suspicia and Melancholia gave place to the last grassy slopes below the snow line, where nothing was seen growing but an occasional solitary Excentricular, or old-fashioned Manspride.

  The fauna, too, was a constant delight. The scapegoat was, of course, common, as were the platitude and the long-tailed bore. The weak-willed sloth was often met, and sometimes after dark I would catch sight of slinking shadows which Burley identified as the miserable hangdog. One afternoon Shute, in great excitement, pointed out to me a disreputable-looking creature which he said was a shaggy dog. Burley swore that it was not a shaggy dog at all but a hairy disgrace; but this may have been intended for one of his peculiar jokes. Burley’s sense of humour is rather weak. He told me one day that he was being followed by a lurking suspicion, which was obviously absurd. But he is a good fellow.

  We were naturally all agog to catch sight of the Atrocious Snowman, about whom so much has been written. This creature was first seen by Thudd in 1928 near the summit of Raw Deedle. He describes it as a man-like creature about seven feet tall covered with blue fur and having three ears. It emitted a thin whistle and ran off with incredible rapidity. The next reported encounter took place during the 1931 Bavarian reconnaissance expedition to Hi Hurdle. On this occasion it was seen by three members at a height of 25,000 feet. Their impressions are largely contradictory, but all agree that the thing wore trousers. In 1933 Orgrind and Stretcher found footprints on a snow slope above the Trundling La, and the following year Moodles heard grunts at 30,000 feet. Nothing further was reported until 1946, when Brewbody was fortunate enough to see the creature at close quarters. It was, he said, completely bare of either fur or hair, and resembled a human being of normal stature. It wore a loincloth and was talking to itself in Rudistani with a strong Birmingham accent. When it caught sight of Brewbody it sprang to the top of a crag and disappeared.

  Such was the meagre information gleaned so far, and all were agog to add to it. The most agog among us was Wish, who may have nourished secret dreams of adding the Eoanthropus Wishi to mankind’s family tree. Wish spent much time above the snow line examining any mark which might prove to be a footprint; but although he heard grunts, whistles, sighs and gurgles, and even, on one occasion, muttering, he found no direct evidence. His enthusiasm weakened appreciably after he had spent a whole rest day tracking footprints for miles across a treacherous mountainside, only to find that he was following a trail laid for him by a porter at Burley’s instigation.

  *

  The po
rters were unprepossessing. Mountaineering to them was strictly business. An eight-hour day had been agreed on, for which each received bohees five (3¾d.). Nothing on earth would persuade them to work longer than this, except money. When not on the march they squatted in groups smoking a villainous tobacco called stunk. Their attitude was surly in the extreme; a more desperate-looking crew can hardly be imagined. They were in such contrast to the description which Constant had given us that I was moved to mention the matter to him in a tactful way. He explained that they were used to living above the 20,000-feet line; their good qualities did not begin to appear until this height was reached. He said that they would improve as we got higher, reaching their peak of imperturbable dignity and cheerfulness at 40,000 feet. This was a great relief to me.

  Their performance as porters left nothing to be desired. Although short – few were more than five feet in height – they were almost as broad as they were long, and very sturdy. Each carried a load of 1,000 pounds. One cannot praise too highly the work of the porters, without whom the expedition would have been doomed to failure.

  The only one of them who was not worth his weight in bohees was the cook, whose name was Pong. Of all the barbarous three thousand, Pong was probably the most disreputable and the most startling in appearance. His face had a peculiarly flattened look, as though it had been pressed in by a plane surface while it was still soft. This same flattening seemed to have spread to his soul, for a more morose, unresponsive and uninspiring individual it would be impossible to imagine. His cooking was the reflection of his character. No matter what tempting delicacies he might extract from their tins the final result was an invariable and appalling dark-brown mess which had to be eaten with a strong spoon and contained the most revolting lumps. That we survived his ministrations must be considered a triumph of spirit over matter, for we suffered considerably from indigestion. All attempts to turn him out of the kitchen failed. At the least hint that we were less than delighted with his disgusting concoctions he went into a kind of frenzy and threatened us with knives.

  The Bang either could or would do nothing to remove him. Perhaps they had trade union rules about it; however it was, we had to put up with Pong. No small part of our eagerness to get to grips with Rum Doodle was due to the desire, fast becoming an obsession, to get away from him. While on the march I indulged in long daydreams in which Burley and I, in a bivouac tent, cooked delicious repasts, while down below at Base Camp Pong writhed with frustration.

  We passed through many villages, the inhabitants of which were invariably sullen and unfriendly, except when Constant made overtures, when they became hostile. He explained that they were not typical of the natives, being a degenerate class who, attracted by the soft living to be made below the 20,000-feet line, had become demoralized and lost their original qualities of dignity and cheerfulness. I may remark here that we came across no sign of habitation above the 20,000-feet line. This, Constant said, was because our course was away from the trade routes.

  Shute was anxious to get a good film record of our progress. To do this it was necessary to start ahead of the rest so that he could set up his cameras in readiness for our coming. This simple plan proved more difficult in practice than he had anticipated. On the first three occasions he was unable to assemble his gear before we reached him, and it was as much as he could do to pack hurriedly and catch us up before evening.

  Next day he made a specially early start and was not seen again until next morning, when he staggered into camp just as we were making preparations to move off. We had apparently taken different routes. This put him a day behind, for he found it necessary to make up for lost sleep. He did not catch us up until a week later, and then he went ahead and sat up all night to make sure of us. He shot the whole procession as it went past him, and everybody cheered. It was most unfortunate that on this occasion the three-dimensional camera should have developed double vision.

  We were daily expecting to overhaul Jungle, although we had seen no trace of the trail which he had gone ahead to break. On the twentieth day we were overtaken by a runner with the following message: ‘Captured by bandits. Send bohees fifty million ransom. Jungle.’

  On the thirtieth day we received the following message by another runner: ‘Repeat. Captured by bandits. Send bohees fifty million. Jungle.’

  We concluded that the first messenger must have decamped with the money. After deep consideration I reasoned that I could place no reliance upon the honesty of these people, and I asked Prone, who was fully recovered from an attack of chicken-pox, to accompany the fellow. On the fortieth day Jungle reached us alone, bringing a ransom demand for bohees fifty million for Prone.

  It was too much. I decided that the finances of the expedition could stand no more such demands. I therefore sent a trustworthy messenger with the following message: ‘Sorry. Bankrupt. Contact Embassy.’ On the fiftieth day Prone overtook us. Shortly after being seized by the bandits he had contracted double pneumonia aggravated by whooping cough, and had proved such a nuisance to his captors that they turned him loose. He was a pitiable sight: unshaven, with matted hair and staring eyes. His clothes were torn to ribbons and his boots had no soles. He was suffering from mumps.

  Burley, who spent most of the day drowsing in a litter carried by porters, trying to overcome his valley lassitude, awoke one afternoon screaming. He had dreamt that the expedition was starving on Rum Doodle. He produced his calculations and checked them over carefully. It was as he feared. Due no doubt to his attack of London lassitude he had forgotten to allow food for the return journey. Concentrating as he did on the one objective of placing two men on the summit of Rum Doodle, he had forgotten to bring them back again.

  I saw that this crisis would tax all my resources as a leader. I said nothing to the others, but carried my burden alone for a week, searching for a way out. At last I was forced to disclose the emergency. Wish gave one look at Burley – and I like to think that even in this crisis one of us, at least, was able to spare a thought for the unhappy author – and commenced to scribble on his thumb nail.

  ‘The solution is quite simple,’ he announced. ‘Dismiss all but 153 porters and 19.125 boys. The food saved will see us through.’

  This was found to be correct. Constant was asked to make the necessary arrangements with the porters. The resulting uproar went on for a week, and Constant was in continual fear for his life. At last we simply could not afford to feed them for another day and were forced to pay them what they demanded, which was too much. The one bright spot was the hope of getting rid of Pong, but for some reason this did not prove practicable. Constant said he sometimes wondered whether the Bang had a vested interest in Pong; but this, I thought, was an unduly cynical view.

  *

  A month later we stood on the summit of the Rankling La facing the Rum Doodle massif, nature’s last citadel against the conquering spirit of man. The great mountain itself, standing majestic against a cloudless sky, struck awe into the hearts of the puny creatures who were soon to set presumptuous foot on those dreadful slopes. What pen could describe our feelings as we viewed the Rum Doodle massif from the summit of the Rankling La?

  I will leave the expedition awhile, paused on the summit of the Rankling La facing the Rum Doodle massif, in order to describe the configuration of the mighty mountain and the events which led to our presence on the Rankling La.

  The mountain was discovered by allied airmen during the war. Several reports gave heights which varied between 30,000 and 50,000 feet. In 1947 a reconnaissance expedition was sent under Totter with instructions to locate the mountain, ascertain its height and investigate possible routes to the summit. Subsequent expeditions collected more information, but ours was the first serious attempt to climb the mountain.

  The Rum Doodle massif is in the shape of a reversed letter M. The summit comprises two peaks: Rum Doodle itself and North Doodle. North Doodle lies to the west of the true summit. The various estimates of the height of the true summit vary
considerably, but by taking an average of these figures it is possible to say confidently that the summit of Rum Doodle is 40,000½ feet above sea level.

  The main ridge of the massif runs due north and south, broken by the watershed of two rivers, the Agenda and the Conundra, which divide the ridge into three portions separated by gorges some 20,000 feet deep. The true summit is situated in the centre portion, but North Doodle, although distant from it by little more than a mile, is separated from it by the Conundra gorge. From each summit a ridge runs in a north-easterly direction, the two meeting in a saddle known as the South Col (25,000 feet). The northern face of the South Col descends to the Rankling glacier, which winds around the south-east face of the mountain until it makes a sharp bend to the north-west. From the snout of the glacier emerges the Rankling river, which flows north after crossing the Agenda gorge some three miles below the watershed. The last stroke of the reversed M is completed by the southern ridge of the Rankling valley, which intersects the centre ridge of the massif at a point some two miles west of the true summit.

  Our plan was as follows. Base Camp would be established at the head of the glacier at a height of 20,000 feet. Here we would spend some days acclimatizing. During this period reconnaissance would be carried out on the North Wall, which leads to the South Col. Advanced Base would be established on the Col, with an intermediate camp half-way up the Wall. From here to the summit camps would be placed in the most suitable positions. Our tentative plan was to camp at 2,000-feet intervals above Advanced Base, the final camp – Camp 7 – being at 39,000 feet, only 1,000½ feet below the summit. Each camp would be provisioned for a fortnight, allowing ample safety margin for bad weather.

  We travelled along a series of river gorges.

  He told me one day that he was being followed by a lurking suspicion.

  The great question was: would it go?

  We roped up for the first time.