Keeper Of The Mountains

by Bernadette McDonald

  The climb that captured Elizabeth’s attention in the spring of 2002 was by Jean-Christophe Lafaille and the equally talented Basque climber Alberto Iñurrategi. They succeeded in a traverse of Annapurna I’s long summit ridge, starting from Glacier Dome in the east and crossing to Roc Noir and Annapurna’s three summits – each more than 8000 metres – and then back again. They did it with no bottled oxygen or Sherpa support. They spent five exhausting days at high altitude, negotiating avalanche-prone slopes, technical climbing, steep rock, cold bivouacs and the ever-debilitating thin air.

  Lafaille met with Elizabeth after this expedition and noticed that she was careful to preserve all the most important pieces of information for historical purposes and for future climbers. She diligently probed for information on camps, oxygen, fixed ropes, distances and times. They pored over photographs and agonized over the details. Lafaille, knowing the significance of this climb within the context of the history of Himalayan climbing, was happy to accommodate her. He wanted the story to be correct. They talked at length about changes in the style of climbing in the Himalaya and about the style Lafaille and Iñurrategi had employed.

  She also saved him a lot of money by mediating in some bureaucratic wrangling. The Nepalese authorities wanted the expedition to pay multiple fees because of the number of subpeaks on the summit ridge, but she talked them out of it and the fee was limited to one summit. He believed they became friends through this post-climb meeting, though he admitted, “She stayed ‘Miss Hawley’ for me and not ‘Elizabeth.’ ”

  Another climber undeterred by the turmoil in Nepal was the Russian Valeri Babanov, who was making a solo attempt on a pillar on the South Face of Nuptse. He would have to climb about 2500 metres, much of it highly technical, with huge snow mushrooms to overcome at the top. He reached 6300 metres four weeks after his arrival, but then ran out of fixed rope, time and energy. He told her he hoped to return the following year to finish it. The famous South Tyrolean climber Hans Kammerlander, who had climbed seven 8000-metre peaks with Messner, was on a route nearby and told Elizabeth that he too wanted to return, perhaps to combine forces with Babanov. But Babanov wasn’t interested. Although Babanov’s climb was an impressive effort, Elizabeth pointed out that it wasn’t alpine-style climbing, which was generally defined as climbing a route in a single continuous push without external help, without pre-placed fixed rope, camps or caches of supplies and without reconnoitering the route.

  In her seasonal mountaineering report, Elizabeth didn’t express an opinion on either climb, simply stating the facts. She refrained from evaluating which climb was more important, because she didn’t think it was her place to do so. She continued to call herself a mountaineering chronicler, not an historian, explaining the difference as: “A historian is someone who goes beyond the facts and looks at the context, and then comments on that context.” She stuck with the formula that worked for her, and kept to the facts in her interviews, believing they spoke volumes. She thought the reader should decide which climbs had greater significance.

  Not everyone agreed. Christian Beckwith, former editor of the American Alpine Journal, reflected that as he tried to move the AAJ from a journal of record to a journal of significance, he found Elizabeth moving in the opposite direction: “She has chosen to be a record keeper of record rather than significance.” In his view, her reports were written for a wide audience and although she interviewed Babanov, she reported on Kammerlander because of his star power. Elizabeth defended herself, stating that her reports for fall 2002, spring 2003 and fall 2003 recorded Babanov’s climbs as well as Kammerlander’s. It was on the third attempt that Babanov and Vladimir Suviga had succeeded. Her report on their climb comprised a comparatively extensive eight paragraphs, providing detailed commentary on the difficult and technical climb as described to her by Babanov. Comments from other climbers were included: according to Tomaž Humar, for example, “The future of climbing belongs to the new Russian teams around Valeri Babanov.” But she pointed out that admiration for Babanov was not universal. At least one unnamed American climber remarked disparagingly that Babanov used bolts on his climb. Elizabeth didn’t comment either way.

  But journalists continued to find fault. British journalist Lindsay Griffin corroborated Beckwith’s opinion that Babanov’s climb on Nuptse was the most significant climb of the season, and Elizabeth’s report didn’t acknowledge this. He added that there had been other occasions where she missed important climbs because they were overshadowed by ascents on a bigger peak or by a better-known person. Others agreed that there were many fine climbs in the Himalaya during her tenure that did not register on her radar. They argued that she focused too much on well-known routes, well-known peaks and well-known people.

  Robin Houston disagreed, maintaining that Elizabeth had always been fair and objective in her reporting, not aggrandizing famous climbers more than unknown climbers, not focusing on an expedition just because of the height of the mountain, and not stooping to the level of gossip. Elizabeth was completely unaware that such discussions and evaluations of her work were taking place.

  CHAPTER 17

  Queen of Everest

  Let’s face it – Liz is an icon!

  — John Roskelley

  In 2003 Elizabeth’s attention was focused on Everest. In fact, the entire world was captivated by the 50th anniversary of the first ascent of the peak – and Kathmandu was the centre of that attention. It wasn’t just climbing magazines that focused on the story: mainstream magazines published lengthy pieces and numerous books were written. The Nepalese government and other organizations sponsored a series of events in Kathmandu that kept Elizabeth busy. All the important Everest climbers were in town: Hillary, Messner, Junko Tabei, Apa Sherpa and a few other notables were driven around the streets of Kathmandu in horse-drawn carriages. They were received by King Gyanendra and Crown Prince Paras. In a grand gesture, the king conferred honorary Nepalese citizenship on Hillary in recognition of his historic climb, as well as his work in the ensuing decades bettering the lives of people living in the Everest regions by building schools and hospitals and restoring monasteries.

  For Elizabeth the timing of this big celebration couldn’t have been worse. It was May 29; expeditions were pouring back from the mountains and she had a mountaineering report to write. Yet the Hillarys were staying downstairs and there were innumerable events to attend. For each 24-hour period, she felt she had at least 20 hours of work to do. Frankly, the whole thing made her grumpy.

  It started badly for the Hillarys, too. Just prior to the celebrations in Kathmandu, Hillary had been in Delhi, where it was frightfully hot. The Indian government had staged a number of elaborate events, including the inauguration of Sir Edmund Hillary Marg and Tenzing Norgay Marg, two streets near the New Zealand embassy. With temperatures of 42°C, the heat left Hillary completely exhausted and he had still not fully recovered when he arrived in Kathmandu for the celebrations. To Elizabeth’s alarm, when he and Lady Hillary came off the plane, Sir Edmund was in a wheelchair! The press was there in full force, but he looked terrible, so Elizabeth whisked the Hillarys away to her house and put him immediately to bed. Lady Hillary laughingly recalled that neither Elizabeth nor Hillary lasted much longer than two or three hours at a time at any of the events that week. “They’re quite united in that,” she said, “they get tired.” And when that happens, “She gets testy.”

  Another important climber at the 2003 celebrations was, of course, Messner. Elizabeth marvelled at the change from when she first met him in 1972. “He looked like a country bumpkin.… Now he speaks fluent English, his style of dress is the latest, his hair is the latest, he lives in a small castle, he is a member of Parliament, and when he came to Kathmandu for the Everest celebrations, he was given absolutely VIP treatment.”

  One of the more memorable Everest events was a cultural performance presented by the Himalayan Trust Sherpas. The defining moment was the presentation of a bottle of Chivas Regal, bottled in May
1953. The Duke of Argyll and chairman of Chivas Regal, dressed in a kilt and playing bagpipes, marched up the aisle to deliver the bottle. Elizabeth enthused: “A Scotsman marching in a kilt – there’s something about his leg action, his knee action that’s just frightfully impressive!” Along with the bottle, he brought some rather large cheques from Chivas Regal for the Himalayan Trust. Later that evening, the Hillarys and Elizabeth admired the cheques and just managed to resist opening the Chivas.

  On the highest mountain itself, climbers crowded in with 35 teams on the Nepal side and 34 on the Tibet side. All but two expeditions were climbing standard routes via the South Col from Nepal and the North Col from Tibet. One of the two was an attempt to climb a totally new route on the East Face in Tibet. Briton Ian Woodall and his South African wife, Cathy O’Dowd, both previous Everest summiteers, were turned back from their preferred route, so they went on to tackle the difficult, unclimbed East Ridge. They were turned back from this as well, but Elizabeth lauded their attempts to try something new while the majority crowded the standard routes.

  And crowds there were. At base camp on the Nepal side, a sizeable village of tents sprang up, housing 441 climbers plus their base camp staff and Sherpas, as well as climbers for Lhotse and Nuptse, totalling at least 600 people. There were satellite communications tents, cafés, a medical clinic, a massage parlour and tee shirt shops. Including the trekkers in the area, Elizabeth estimated the population probably equalled or exceeded that of the area’s largest village, Namche Bazaar, at 850. Messner paid a visit to base camp and reported back to Elizabeth that he was horrified at what he saw. Expedition leaders told her that they felt the skill level of guided climbers was lower that year than ever.

  The hullabaloo and crowding elicited strong statements from some of the veterans as they reminisced about the good old days. Hillary and Messner both voiced emphatic views that the numbers of permits for Everest should be restricted for reasons of safety and pollution. Others thought climbers should be required to have summited at least one 8000-metre peak to qualify for an Everest permit. Elizabeth listened to these opinions, but was struck by something she read in Time magazine, written by a man she had originally urged not to return to Everest – the blind American climber, Erik Weihenmayer. He wrote: “Many climbers argue that Everest is no longer an epochal achievement and that the conga lines of climbers waiting for a shot at the summit are degrading a once pristine environment … the door to Everest’s slopes has been blown wide open, and some critics speak of the death of great adventures … but Everest’s history is the modern world’s history, with all its challenges and abuses – and the unparalleled opportunities for human endeavor … We cannot step back and close the mountain, for retreat would annihilate the modern age’s greatest gift to humanity: the freedom of an individual to choose his own path.” Elizabeth admitted he had a point.

  Two of those choosing their own paths were young Sherpa climbers Pemba Dorje and Lhakpa Gelu, who were challenging the speed record for an Everest ascent from the Nepal side set by deceased Sherpa Babu Chhiri in 2000 when he climbed it in 16 hours and 56 minutes. Pemba Dorje claimed an ascent of 12 hours and 45 minutes, and then Lhakpa Gelu topped that with 10 hours and 56 minutes. But all was not well in Sherpa land. Pemba charged Lhakpa with lying. Lhakpa countered with supporting documents from the government liaison officer posted at base camp. Their dispute would continue the following year.

  John Roskelley returned to the mountains, this time with his 20-old son, Jess. Elizabeth knew and respected Roskelley from previous expeditions, but that didn’t blunt her sharp response to his current objective: Everest by the South Col with oxygen. She wanted to know what they were doing that was different. Jess explained that he was trying to be the youngest American to climb Everest. She responded, “So what? Are you going to do a new route without oxygen?” John didn’t take it personally, but his son was taken aback. Roskelley explained to Jess, “Nothing impresses her. She interviews the greatest climbers in the world and they don’t tell her what they intend to do, they just do it.” In fact, when Jess returned, having climbed it, she did show a somewhat more appreciative attitude regarding his achievement and they got along just fine.

  Roskelley wondered whether Elizabeth had become jaded by working with some of “greatest climbers in the world.” He knew she had a strong interest in them, but added, “They’re human beings, and highly focused human beings at that – some could say egotistical.” He suspected that part of her cynicism came from personal disappointments with some of the prominent personalities and emphasized, “Anybody who has done what she has done for years, dealing with prima donnas and putting them in their place, deserves respect.” He maintained that Elizabeth knew “10 times more about climbing than all these other climbers.” His final analysis was, “Let’s face it – Liz is an icon!”

  Although Elizabeth’s compound remained an oasis of calm, Nepal seethed with unrest. In March 2003 a serious incident took place at Beni Bazaar, a town of 5,000 situated astride the main trail to the Annapurna trekking area. Thousands of Maoists descended from the hills to launch a sudden attack on the army post, the district police post, the jail and the bank. Mortars and other weapons filled the night. Many of those fighting on the Maoist side were adolescents who had been kidnapped and forced into battle. The casualties were in the hundreds.

  As the political situation in Nepal continued its downward slide, the threat of external forces intensified. Nepal became vulnerable to influences from China, India, the United States and others. The Chinese, for the time being, remained silent, but the Americans did not. A statement from the U.S. government urged action: “The palace and the parties must unify – urgently – under an all-party government as the first step to restoring democracy and presenting a unified front against the terrorist insurgents.”

  There was an enormous amount of distrust and paranoia within the country. According to Nepali Times editor Kunda Dixit in his April 2 editorial, “The Maoists, the parties and the palace are each suspicious of the other two ganging up.” He observed that while the king was off hugging babies in the districts, the political parties were marching on the palace. A new low was reached in May when Prime Minister Thapa resigned after just 11 months in office. It was generally thought that the king had asked him to resign because of his inability to advance the peace talks between the Maoist leaders and other party leaders.

  Street protests increased and injuries were commonplace. Party leaders were arrested and the Maoists continued to wreak havoc in the districts. The king appointed Sher Bahadur Deuba to succeed Thapa and charged him with the same task he had given Thapa: get the party leaders and Maoists talking seriously about peace. Public morale dropped still further in response to this news, as the king had dismissed Deuba from the same job just two years earlier due to “incompetence in not being able to conduct the general elections on the stipulated date.”

  The Maoist insurrection increased its intensity, not just against the security forces but also against civilians. They kidnapped children, extorted officials and trekkers, blocked roads, destroyed property, beat and maimed farmers who didn’t cooperate, forcibly recruited men, women and children into their militia, and used weapons, land mines and bombs to maim and kill. Local citizens’ resistance groups formed in some villages, but members were at risk of violent retaliation. “Disappearances” increased sharply. Nepal was once again on the international radar screen as groups like Amnesty International and the United Nations expressed concern. Aid agencies from around the world pulled out of rural regions because of inadequate security for their staffs. The World Bank stopped releasing funds to complete the construction of a highway.

  Elizabeth, though she wasn’t directly affected by the instability, couldn’t avoid it completely. Demonstrators marched in the street outside her door. She read fresh horror stories in the two local newspapers each morning. She heard disturbing reports from Himalayan Trust staff and others in the remote districts. But still
she stayed in Kathmandu.

  CHAPTER 18

  It’s Nepal

  She is like the last of the Mohicans; after the last has gone home she is still out there on her own.

  There is only one Miss Hawley. But with a personality as complex as hers, she inspired many different impressions and conflicting opinions, mostly from men. They respected her, feared her, cared about her, criticized her and vied for her attention. In conversation, Elizabeth would occasionally reveal intimate details and private opinions, often in stark contrast to the opinions of others. But what was she holding back? There were so many inconsistencies. For example, many people called attention to her modesty, yet there was a note of pride as she talked about famous friends and pointed out the many awards and medals decorating her home.

  The first of those awards came in 1990 as a special citation from Reuters. To make the presentation, Reuters brought in a couple of regional executives who became increasingly flustered as she kept interrupting their speech with corrections. In her undiplomatic style – hilarious to those who know her well – she hollered out dates, places and people that they had incorrect. The correspondents limped through the ordeal somehow and she took home a brass plate for her efforts.

  In 1994 the American Alpine Club honoured Elizabeth with their prestigious Literary Award. She was modest about this one, saying it was likely Ad Carter’s doing. Carter was the long-time editor of the American Alpine Journal, a close friend of Elizabeth and recipient of her seasonal mountaineering reports for many years. The two friends were similar in their attention to detail. If he was responsible for her award, it was a case of one meticulous record-keeper honouring another.