Kingdoms of Experience

by Andrew Greig

  Bob Another dreadful night persuades me of the inevitable and I pack up and set off down, tormented by doubts of whether I’m doing the right thing – if I’m fit enough to walk down then surely I’m fit enough to stay at ABC? I feel bad but do I really feel worse than anyone else? I almost turn back but rationality prevails. I feel terribly isolated from the rest of the expedition and Jon and Rick powering their way back into the fray seem in a different world, and for the first time I feel badly homesick. I creep shamefacedly into Base Camp at dusk to a kind, warm welcome …

  I’ve noticed quite a bad defect of vision in my right eye, and Urs says this is a retinal haemorrhage due to altitude, annoying but probably not serious. Daunting to think that this sort of damage to blood vessels is also going on in the brain.

  Sandy About 4.0 pm I strolled out of the Mess Tent, Jack called to me ‘Hey, Sandy, come with us!’ Mr Luo, jeep drivers and other liasion officers were with him. They walked in the direction of the memorial plaques behind our camp. I went along as Jack told me that today, 5th April (our Good Friday), is the Chinese mourning day and they (this group I was now unwittingly involved with) were on their way to pay their respects to the dead. The Tibetan jeep driver put little piles of rice in front of the memorial plaques and sprinkled some rice over the cairns. He did it to them all, including Pete and Joe’s, as we followed in a close group behind.

  Then Luo and I stood in front of Pete and Joe’s memorial cairn and Jack went to take a photo – I thought ‘What’s the point, Jack, they’re dead, Everest is hidden in the normal afternoon cloud and you can’t see a thing!’ Jack rushed forward and pushed a Holy Bible into my hands, I held it and just as Jack moved back and took the photo a weird, really sad feeling overtook me. Tears semi-swelled up in my eyes. I choked them off, not wanting to show the Chinese lads this was upsetting me.

  Dave Bob arrived soon after at Base, very despondent, bad head and chest cough – oedema? Kurt and Julie arrived later, having enjoyed the trip down, playing among the ice fins and sliding down the frozen river. Long chat about news and plans with Sandy cooking for them (he is marvellous like that – he will cook for latecomers, look for things when it’s cold and dark – he is very generous with his energy). His remarks can be very cutting, but it’s usually to deflate bullshit, and at heart he is generous. He’d got over his oedema, at least at this altitude, and seems much more relaxed now, maybe it’s the smaller group – in many ways I like Sandy the most of the group, he is certainly more open and less self-centred than the rest.

  I can relate to Kurt and Julie easier than the Boy Racers, and I enjoy sitting up and talking – what a waste to bury your head in a book as most do, even at meals, and disappear to bed with a Walkman … There is an antipathy towards Kurt and Julie from the younger set, who seem to think that the filming is an intrusion – bloody daft – without its money they would not be here at all – so grin and bear it when Kurt says ‘Vun more time …’

  I try to fill my days here – a 12-hour day does seem such a waste, and the amount of idleness around me makes me sure I could never be a mountaineer – and I don’t believe they are ‘saving their energy’ all the time – leisure time can still be relaxing if it’s filled – but Walkman and trash novels!

  Another bad night all round, and everyone was washed out the next day from their exertions on the hill, or by coming up from BC in a day for the first time. Allen showed his determination and commitment by forcing himself to carry a load with Andy Nisbet up to the previous high-point, where they re-aligned the rope and added a couple of snow stakes. Andy went slowly, monitoring himself carefully. He was now well above the height where he’d got ill on Nuptse, he was into the unknown. Liz went with them carrying a load to the stash at the foot of the Ridge.

  The others rested. Nothing gained by burning out at this stage, Mal thought as he warded off a mild pang of guilt. It’s so hard to know when one is being prudent or merely lazy.

  Which was exactly what I felt, wandering alone down the 15 miles to BC. Urs had long since disappeared into the distance. Should I have stayed on? Both Mal and Urs had said that the pattern should be: go on to the hill, make your contribution for as long as you can, then come down to recuperate at BC. With our numbers we could rotate, pace ourselves. Yet still that lingering doubt.

  I met Sandy and Tony on their way up. How often on this expedition people were to meet each other for only ten minutes on that trail, exchange news and pass on. And we nearly always descended alone. I asked Sandy how he was while Tony grumbled about fixed ropes. ‘Pretty good, actually. That summit is MINE!’

  A long descent, happy to be going down and on my own, slightly worried when I lost the trail several times. A driving snow made footing awkward and life unpleasant. It was with pleasure and relief that after seven hours I stumbled across the flat moraine towards the Mess Tent, dumped my sac and pushed in. My journal entry is fairly typical of how we all felt whenever we returned to base.

  Andy G A very warm greeting from Kurt and Julie, Bob, Dave – hi, Terry! He arrived from Lhasa a couple of days ago, is delighted with life. Gives me a big grin and (a) a packet of chocolate Easter eggs (when was Easter?) (b) four packets of cigarette papers (c) two letters from Kathleen. A star. He’s also brought old Sunday papers and magazines as diverse as The Economist, New Musical Express and Face.

  It feels warm, friendly, relaxing being back at BC. Lots of big oxygen molecules about; not in a mental clench any more. Huge meal of real potatoes, curry, fresh oranges, and the first cigarette for days. Oh yes, yes! Much laughter, we’re much livelier down here. Feel so grey and stupid at ABC. Still, should be better next time up.

  Now in the warm world of my tent, reading the fashion magazines – clothes, records, social trends, etc. Not so much a foreign country as another planet. Hard to imagine I was once interested. Do such things really matter? But then – does this? Read Kathleen’s letters several times, they’re funny and tender, talk of us taking a motorbike holiday in Spain when I get back. Not something I can afford to think about now. Take my pill and wait for sleep. Christ it’s good to be back here. Like spring after winter.

  Terry Can’t believe I’m here, that I’ve really made it. Feeling a bit headachy but looking forward with trepidation to heading off up the mountain to at least ABC. I am determined that I will contribute as much as I can … I’m frightened to death of being the worst member of the team.

  Mal 8th April. Off eventually at 10 am with Chris, Jon and Rick behind. Plot was for Chris and myself to collect gas, stoves, food and tent from top of fixed rope and fix more as far as possible. I was going like a heap of shit (major will-power to avoid packing it in), Chris seemed in good form as were Jon and Rick. Eventually fixed across the huge couloir and up a spur to find a small wand in the snow! Further investigation led to the discovery of Bonington’s First Snowcave – exactly three years after they’d chosen the site.

  Jon Chris dug out a Karrimat blocking the entrance, then I look over. Feeling a bit like Howard Carter at the entrance to King Tutankamen’s tomb, I hacked a hole through … There was just a cup or two in sight in a small, compressed chamber. ‘Anyone fancy a Nikon camera?’ I said facetiously. But later excavating revealed a pair of down boots, down mitts, Pete Boardman’s red windsuit, some food, an onion and … an XA Olympus camera, still working after being buried for three years! It was all a bit creepy, like the Marie Celeste. Got a good two-man doss excavated and slept like the just.

  Finding the snow cave was a piece of unlooked-for good luck. For the price of an hour’s work, it gave us a ready-made extra camp on a ridge notoriously short of good sites. Our original intention was to put our Camp 1 at Point 7090 on the crest of the Ridge, but as the snow cave came to be used regularly it was eventually known as Camp 1 or simply ‘CB’s’. Mal and Chris set off back down the fixed ropes in a blizzard, while Jon and Rick slept in the cave in preparation for going up the next day to locate a site near 7,090 metres (roughly 23,400 feet) for our Camp
1 (later known as Camp 2 or simply 7090).

  There was a lot of movement off the hill. Nick, Sarah and Dave arrived at ABC; Andy, Allen, Liz and Danny descended with the latest news. The weather was wild on the hill, and mild and lovely at Base. Terry and I played guitars in the sunshine, Bob made bread, Julie typed film notes, Tony peeled apples. We washed our clothes and ourselves, spread damp gear out in the sun to dry. Urs was busy, first with a poisoned finger of Kurt’s. The legendary 8,000 metres hero was pale and quiet as Urs took out his instruments. They both had a stiff whisky to fortify themselves, then the finger was pierced, drained and bandaged. A whisky to celebrate. Then the Rabbit came in with a grossly swollen and septic big toe. ‘What I need,’ muttered Urs, ‘is a trombone.’ We looked at each other. ‘A trombone?’ ‘Oui, oui, a trombone,’ he said firmly. It seemed our effervescent Swiss gnome had suffered brain damage till we discovered ‘trombone’ is the French slang for paper-clip. So Urs and the Rabbit had a tumbler of whisky each, then Urs held a needle by the ‘trombone’, heated it red-hot in a candle-flame, then slowly pushed the glowing needle right through the nail on the Rabbit’s toe. At this point, as blood and pus began to ooze out, the onlookers also required a medicinal dose of whisky to steady their nerves.

  By evening we were all feeling quite mellow, Urs particularly voluble as he celebrated an interesting day’s work.

  Bob Later had some good conversation about mountain romanticism (my view – Whillans was a crypto-Romantic!), baked some bread, and at last life seems to be worth the candle again. This evening Terry and Andy played and sang together and we drank a little … All in fine spirits. I think we may be what the books call ‘a happy expedition’. Two nights ago it was – 32°C at ABC. Why am I so keen to get up there?

  Andy G. Looking round at us relaxed and laughing, feeling this tent in the wilderness of the Himalayas to be the last word in luxury, I wonder if we have to keep undergoing difficulty, suffering and deprivation before we can appreciate what we’ve got. To be able to wash, or sleep without ice falling on one – to sleep at all! – to eat fresh bread, to have a song, these things seem so wonderful to us down here. It’s like being in love, when for a brief time everything seems miraculous. How can we make it a state of mind that will endure, that is not the plaything of circumstance. Firm foundations is what I seem to be looking for on this trip …

  Urs said he’s never read a book which has captured the mountaineering experience truly – either too romantic or too factual. So much of climbing is so physically banal and demanding there’s little time for reflection and spiritual uplift. And yet of course it’s there, for all of us, from time to time. Urs talked of being alone at the top of the fixed rope and the wind suddenly dropping as he stood looking across the Himalaya into Nepal …

  ‘Yes,’ said Terry thoughtfully, ‘everyone who comes here is looking for something inside and something outside, in different proportions.’

  Jon 9th April. Away by 10.0 am to get to Point 7090. Rick first then me on a climbing rope. Last bit I took over. Pulled over a lip, an almost Scottish finale, on to the horizontal bit of the Ridge leading to Bonington’s 2nd snow cave. Flattish, not knife-edged. Rick came up with a whoop for the view of the Buttresses and Pinnacles. Very very inspiring.

  Feel great. Photos, then wandered along the ridge a bit to recce the ‘holes’ there for potential snow caves. No joy, so abseiled down the climbing rope to a cave about 100 feet down. A natural hole, which we enlarged. A bit spooky, as we didn’t know if the floor was okay – a big hole at one end. I left Rick to it for the last hour and went down to CB’s to get the brew on. Soloing, facing out, concentrate …

  And so our Camp 1 (which became Camp 2 or 7090 – confused? So were we!) was manufactured inside not so much a cave as a crevasse formed by a cornice fracture line just below the crest of the Ridge. It was not ideal, being draughty and lacking a floor in places. But it would have to do, for the Ridge has few snow banks one can dig a cave in. We felt it far too exposed for tents, and the only alternative was to dig a cave into the ice, as Bonington’s team had done for their Camp 1.

  Kurt and Julie set off in the jeep to explore Karta and the Karma valley. This surprised us, as they had not yet gone beyond the bergschrund or filmed us pushing out the route. Their film, we now realized, was going to be only partly about our Expedition. The weather blew up into a full-scale gale that evening, at both ABC and Base. We sat in our respective Mess Tents, hanging on to the sides, once or twice stumbling outside to strengthen the guy ropes. Mal and Chris returned from ABC, hoarse and weathered. Wine, laughter and music at BC, harder times further up the hill.

  Next morning it was clear no one was going climbing. Jon and Rick descended, bantamweight Rick getting blown over several times while crossing the glacier to ABC. Everywhere we battened down hatches for the day.

  At Base I was quietly finishing an Express article while Bob and Danny were locked in a titanic chess struggle when a whirlwind hit the tent. One side blew out, the whole fabric lifted and quivered, the air was thick with dust and papers and outside we heard a great Whumph! followed by crashes and bangs. We rushed outside and found the Chinese tent had simply disappeared and barrels and pans were rolling over the ice lake. Dave Bricknell’s empty tent was flattened, as if a yak had fallen on it. Worst of all, from my point of view at least, was that my precious article was flying down the valley in the general direction of Xegar.

  Much boulder humping, replacing and adding guy lines. With some improvization we managed to restore most of the Chinese tent. The gale blew the rest of the day but there would be no more whirlwinds.

  It was on this day 38 years earlier that the Canadian Earl Denman had arrived here at Base Camp, intending to make himself immortal by being the first man to climb Everest. He had entered Tibet illegally and secretly with the soon-to-be-famous Tenzing Norgay and Ang Dawa. Shivering at Base with their pitifully inadequate equipment, he looked at Everest and still believed he could climb it despite his minimal climbing experience. All one needed was idealism and willpower …

  The next day brought the first signs of spring at Base. A few bees droned laboriously by, working very hard to stay up in the thin air. Between the rocks one would come across little patches of moss or miniature shrubs. We’d already seen some game-cocks and chamois-like creatures, even a couple of rabbits, and it astonished us that they could live in this apparently absolute desert. Base Camp had also gathered its own flock of pigeons, which the Chinese spent hours trapping, and a number of choughs. Water ran freely from the ice-lake, making life a lot easier, and the lake itself was evaporating both from above and below, leaving the surface wildly pitted and in sections ice hanging a foot or so above absolutely dry stones. There was no slush – somehow that seemed typical, everything in Tibet was simple and extreme, uncluttered. There was rock, ice, snow; a great deal of sky and a great deal of silence.

  But at ABC the weather was still wild and we lost another day’s climbing.

  Nick Should have carried a load today – weather very windy, no good on the Ridge. But eased off later and Sarah, Dave and the Rabbit went to Raphu La and on to climb summit 6823 on left-hand side of the Col, same hill Kurt and Julie climbed (to film Tony and Rick on their first outing on the Ridge). I’m impressed – Sarah obviously worked hard – though technically not hard, it’s quite high – Dave obviously thrilled to bits – good on him, a great climax to his time here. He goes to BC tomorrow then off home. I think in many ways we’ll miss him. He’s been a great asset – organizer and morale booster.

  Dave And to think we nearly didn’t go. It was very windy again overnight, very severe gusts making the whole tent move, but it survived very well. I woke up thinking ‘that’s it, nobody will want to go up today,’ but over breakfast the Pink Rabbit said ‘Shall we go?’ and Sarah and I both said ‘Yes,’ and it was decided – the rounded peak (6823) to the left of the Raphu La, all 22,385 feet of it. We were off at 11.30, only an hour over the glacier to the cache,
me carrying about 15 wands and flags, which I then dumped, and then a two-hour plod up to the summit. Not a problem, I felt very fit and Sarah was struggling a bit so there were plenty of breathers, all very easy and no risk – a slip would take you on a toboggan run back to the Raphu La.

  We got to the summit about 2.30. The views were fantastic; as we climbed, the whole of the Kangshung Face opened up, including the well-named Fantasy Ridge: enormous fluted and etched buttresses rising in a series of crests to just below the Pinnacles. Lhotse and the ridge to Lhotse Shar … far away were Kangchenjunga and Jannu … Chomolonzo and Makalu were much closer, and further round Changtse showed its true elegance.

  Sarah and I felt very smug, only Jon and Rick have gone higher on this trip! and for me it was a proper climax. To have bagged a peak was more exciting than to have done a part-carry on the far more dangerous Ridge. Anyway, I had promised Ilush I would do nothing technical above the Raphu La.

  Back to camp about 4.30 – Urs had just arrived and there was no brew ready – of course – mountaineers at rest must be the idlest people around. A long chat with all of us waiting for a cook to volunteer.

  I’m not sorry to be leaving tomorrow. It’s been exciting up here but I could not follow or out-do today without real climbing … Good sleep and rapid progress back home will be a welcome relief. I’ve made the managerial contribution, now it’s down to the order of load-carrying and who is to do what – only Mal can do that as team leader. I only hope he does because it’s pretty anarchic at present.