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                             THE ASSAULT ON
                             MOUNT EVEREST,
                                  1922

  The Second Climbing Party descending from their record climb.
  LONDON: EDWARD ARNOLD & C^{o.}
]

                             THE ASSAULT ON
                             MOUNT EVEREST
                                  1922

                                   By

            Brigadier-General Hon. C. G. BRUCE, C.B., M.V.O.
                  AND OTHER MEMBERS OF THE EXPEDITION

                      WITH MAPS AND ILLUSTRATIONS

                                NEW YORK
                         LONGMANS, GREEN & CO.
                      LONDON: EDWARD ARNOLD & CO.
                                  1923

                          All rights reserved

                  Made and Printed in Great Britain by
                 Butler & Tanner Ltd., Frome and London

                                PREFACE

The Mount Everest Committee desire to take this opportunity of thanking
General Bruce, Mr. Mallory, Captain Finch, Mr. Somervell and Dr.
Longstaff for having, in addition to their labours in the field, made
the following contributions to the story of an expedition whose chief
result has been to strengthen our confidence that the summit of the
highest mountain in the world can be attained by man.

                                CONTENTS

                                                       PAGE

             INTRODUCTION. By SIR FRANCIS                 3
               YOUNGHUSBAND, K.C.S.I., K.C.I.E.

                    THE NARRATIVE OF THE EXPEDITION
          By BRIGADIER-GENERAL HON. C. G. BRUCE, C.B., M.V.O.

            CHAP.
                I TO THE BASE CAMP                       17
               II THE ASSAULT ON THE MOUNTAIN            50
              III THE RETURN BY KHARTA                   77

                           THE FIRST ATTEMPT
                       By GEORGE H. LEIGH-MALLORY

               IV THE PROBLEM                           121
                V THE HIGHEST CAMP                      150
               VI THE HIGHEST POINT                     183

                        THE ATTEMPT WITH OXYGEN
                        By CAPTAIN GEORGE FINCH

              VII THE SECOND ATTEMPT                    227
             VIII CONCLUSIONS                           251
               IX NOTES ON EQUIPMENT                    262

                           THE THIRD ATTEMPT
                       By GEORGE H. LEIGH-MALLORY

                X THE THIRD ATTEMPT                     273
               XI CONCLUSIONS                           287

                                 NOTES
                         By T. HOWARD SOMERVELL

              XII ACCLIMATISATION AT HIGH ALTITUDES     299
             XIII COLOUR IN TIBET                       309
              XIV TIBETAN CULTURE                       313

                            NATURAL HISTORY
                      By DR. T. G. LONGSTAFF, M.D.

               XV NATURAL HISTORY                       321
                  INDEX                                 338

                         LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

            The Second Climbing Party descending     Frontispiece
              from their Record Climb

                                                       PAGE

            Frozen Waterfall, Chumbi Valley              28

            Nuns at Tatsang                              34

            Rongbuk Monastery and Mount Everest          44

            The Expedition at Base Camp                  46

            View at Base Camp                            50

            Camp II at Sunset                            54

            Mount Everest from Camp III                  60

            Watching the Dancers, Rongbuk Monastery      72

            The Chief Lama, Rongbuk Monastery            78

            Tibetan Dancing Woman                        84

            Tibetan Dancing Man                          84

            Old Tibetan Woman and Child                  90

            Fording the Bhong Chu                        98

            Panorama at Shekar Dzong                    106

            In Khamba Dzong                             110

            Lingga and the Lhonak Mountains             114

            Base Camp and Mount Everest in Evening      124
              Light

            Serac, East Rongbuk Glacier                 140

            View from Ice Cavern                        146

            Seracs, East Rongbuk Glacier, above Camp    150
              II

            Party ascending the Chang La                156

            Peak, 23,180 feet (Kellas’ dark rock        162
              peak), from the Rongbuk Glacier, above
              Camp II

            Mallory and Norton approaching their        204
              Highest Point, 26,985 feet

            Summit of Mount Everest from the Highest    210
              Point of the First Climb, 26,985 feet,
              May 21, 1922

            The First Climbing Party                    218

            Frost-bitten Climber being helped down      222
              to Camp II

            Mount Everest from Base Camp                232

            East Rongbuk Glacier, near Camp II          236

            Oxygen Apparatus                            242

            Captain Noel kinematographing the Ascent    242
              of Mount Everest from the Chang La

            The British Members of the Second           248
              Climbing Party

            Chang La and North-east Shoulder of         290
              Mount Everest

            Religious Banners in Shekar Monastery       314

            Romoo, the Lepcha Collector who assisted    322
              Dr. Longstaff and Major Norton

            Karma Paul, the Expedition’s Interpreter    322

                                  MAPS

            Sketch Map of Mount Everest and the         366
              Rongbuk Glaciers

            The Route of the Mount Everest              367
              Expedition, 1922

                              INTRODUCTION

                                   By
                       SIR FRANCIS YOUNGHUSBAND,
                           K.C.S.I., K.C.I.E.

                              INTRODUCTION

Colonel Howard-Bury and the members of the Expedition of 1921 had
effected the object with which they had been despatched. They were not
sent out to climb Mount Everest. It would be impossible to reach the
summit in a single effort. They were sent to reconnoitre the mountain
from every direction and discover what was for certain the easiest way
up. For it was quite certain that only by the easiest way possible—and
only if there were an easy way—would the summit ever be reached. In the
Alps, nowadays, men look about for the most difficult way up a mountain.
Hundreds every year ascend even the Matterhorn by the easiest ways up.
So men with any turn for adventure have to look about for the difficult
ways. With Mount Everest it is very different. The exhaustion produced
from the difficulty of breathing in enough oxygen at the great heights
is so fearful that only by a way that entails the least possible
exertion can the summit be reached. Hence the necessity for spending the
first season in thoroughly prospecting the mountain. And this was all
the more necessary because no European so far had been within sixty
miles of Mount Everest, so that not even the approaches to the mountain
were known.

During 1921, under the leadership of Colonel Howard-Bury, this
reconnaissance was most thoroughly carried out. Mr. Mallory found what
was quite certainly the easiest—indeed the only practicable—way up the
mountain, and Major Morshead and Captain Wheeler mapped the mountain
itself and the country round. They brought back also much valuable
experience of the conditions under which a definite “all-out” attempt to
reach the summit might be made. Ample data were therefore now at the
disposal of the Mount Everest Committee for organising an expedition to
make this attempt.

And first the question of leadership had to be decided. This was a
definitely climbing expedition, and a climbing expert would be needed to
lead it—and a climbing expert who had experience of Himalayan
conditions, which are in so many ways different from Alpine conditions.
The one obvious man for this position of leader was Brigadier-General
Hon. C. G. Bruce. He could not be expected at his age to take part in
the actual climbing. But for the command of the whole Expedition no
better could be found. For thirty years he had devoted himself to
climbing both in the Himalaya and in the Alps. He was an expert climber,
and he knew the Himalayan conditions as no other man. And, what was of
scarcely less importance, he knew the Himalayan peoples, and knew how to
handle them. Any climbing party would be dependent upon the native
porters to carry stores and equipment up the mountain. But climbers from
England would know nothing about these men or how to treat them. It was
essential, therefore, that there should be with the Expedition some one
who could humour and get the best out of them.

This was the more necessary as one of the chief features of these
expeditions to Mount Everest was the organisation of a corps of porters
specially enlisted from among the hardiest men on that frontier for the
particular purpose of carrying camps to high altitudes. This idea
originated with General Bruce himself. So far Himalayan climbing
expeditions had been dependent upon coolies collected at the highest
villages and taken on for a few days while the climb lasted. But this
was never very satisfactory, and coolies so collected would be of no use
on Mount Everest. General Bruce’s plan was very different. It was,
months beforehand, to select thirty or forty of the very best men who
could be found in the higher mountains, to enlist them for some months,
pay them well, feed them well and equip them well, and above all to put
into them a real _esprit de corps_, make them take a pride in the task
that was before them. But to do all this there was needed a man who knew
and understood them and who had this capacity for infusing them with a
keen spirit. And for this no one could be better than General Bruce
himself. He had served in a Gurkha regiment for thirty years. He loved
his Gurkhas, and was beloved by them. He spoke their language; knew all
their customs and traditions, and had had them climbing with him in the
Alps as well as the Himalaya. And Gurkhas come from Nepal, on the
borders of which Mount Everest lies.

For organising this corps of porters, for dealing with the Tibetans,
and, lastly, for keeping together the climbers from England, who were
mostly quite unknown to each other, but who all knew of General Bruce
and his mountaineering achievements in the Himalaya, General Bruce was
an ideal chief.

This being settled, the next question was the selection of the climbing
party. General Bruce would not be able to go on to the mountain itself,
and he would have plenty to do at the main base camp, seeing after
supplies and organising transport service from the main base to the high
mountain base. As chief at the mountain base, and as second-in-command
of the Expedition to take General Bruce’s place in case of any
misadventure to him, Lieutenant-Colonel E. L. Strutt was selected. He
was an Alpine climber of great experience and knowledge of ice and snow
conditions. But for the actual effort to reach the summit two men were
specially marked out. One, of course, was Mr. George Leigh-Mallory, who
had done such valuable service on the reconnaissance of the previous
year; and the other was Captain George Finch, who had been selected for
the first Expedition, but who had, through temporary indisposition, not
been able to go with it. Both of these were first-rate men and well
known for their skill in mountaineering. These two had been selected in
the previous year. Of new men, Major E. F. Norton was an experienced and
very reliable and thorough mountaineer. He is an officer in the
Artillery, and well known in India for his skill and interest in
pig-sticking. But in between his soldiering and his pig-sticking and a
course at the Staff College he seems to have found time for Alpine
climbing and for bird observation. A man of high spirit, who could be
trusted to keep his head under all circumstances and to help in keeping
a party together, he was a valuable addition to the Expedition. Mr.
Somervell was perhaps even more versatile in his accomplishments. He was
a surgeon in a London hospital, who was also skilled both in music and
painting, and yet found time for mountaineering, and, being younger than
the others, and possessed of exuberant energy and a fine physique, he
could be reckoned on to go with the highest climbers. Another member of
the medical profession who was also a mountaineer was Dr. Wakefield. He
was a Westmorland man, who had performed wonderful climbing feats in the
Lake District in his younger days, and now held a medical practice in
Canada. He was bursting with enthusiasm to join the expedition, and gave
up his practice for the purpose.

As medical officer and naturalist of the Expedition, Dr. T. G. Longstaff
was chosen. He was a veteran Himalayan climber, and if only this
Expedition could have been undertaken some years earlier, he, like
General Bruce, would have made a magnificent leader of a climbing party.
As it was, his great experience would be available for the climbers as
far as the high mountain camp. And this time it was intended to send
with the Expedition a “whole-time” photographer and cinematographer,
both for the purpose of having a photographic record of its progress and
also to provide the means by which the expenses of this and a future
expedition might be met. For this Captain J. B. Noel was selected. He
had made a reconnaissance towards Mount Everest in 1913, and he had
since then made a special study of photography and cinematography, so
that he was eminently suited for the task.

The above formed the party which would be sent out from England. And
subsequently General Bruce, in India, selected four others to join the
Expedition: Mr. Crawford, of the Indian Civil Service, a keen
mountaineer, who had long wished to join the Expedition; Major Morshead,
who had held charge of the survey party in the 1921 Expedition, and now
wanted to join the present Expedition as a climber; and two officers
from Gurkha regiments, to serve as transport officers, namely, Captain
Geoffrey Bruce and Captain Morris.

This completed the British personnel of the Expedition. It had been my
hope that a first-rate artist might have accompanied it to paint the
greatest peaks of the Himalaya, but the artists whom we chose were
unable to pass the medical examination, though the examination was, of
course, not so severe as the examination which the actual climbers had
to pass.

While these men were being selected, the Equipment Committee, Captain
Farrar and Mr. Meade, were working hard. Taking the advice of Colonel
Howard-Bury and Mr. Mallory, and profiting by the experience gained on
the previous Expedition, they got together and had suitably packed and
despatched to India a splendid outfit comprising every necessity for an
Expedition of this nature. The amount of work that Farrar put into this
was enormous; for as a mountaineer he knew well how the success of the
Expedition depended on each detail of the equipment being looked into,
and he spared himself no trouble and overlooked nothing. The stores were
of the most varied description, in order to meet the varying tastes of
the different members. The tents were improved in accordance with the
experience gained. Most particular attention was paid to the boots.
Clothing and bedding, light in weight but warm to wear, were specially
designed. Ice-axes, crampons, ropes, lanterns, cooking-stoves, and also
warm clothing for the porters, were all provided, and much else besides.

But about one point in the equipment of the party there was much
diversity of opinion. Should the climbers be provided with oxygen, or
should they not? If it were at all feasible to provide climbers with
oxygen without adding appreciably to the weight they had to carry, the
summit of Mount Everest could be reached to a certainty. For the purely
mountaineering difficulties are not great. On the way to the summit
there are no physical obstacles which a trained mountaineer could not
readily overcome. The one factor which renders the ascent so difficult
is the want of oxygen in the air. Provide the oxygen and the ascent
could be made at once. But to provide the oxygen heavy apparatus would
have to be carried—and carried by the climbers themselves. It became a
question whether the disadvantage of having to carry a weight of at
least thirty pounds would or would not outweigh the advantages to be
gained by the use of the oxygen.

And the Mount Everest Committee were warned of another feature in the
case. They were told that if by any misfortune the oxygen were to run
out when the climbers were at a considerable height—say 27,000 feet—and
they suddenly found themselves without any preparation in this
attenuated atmosphere, they might collapse straight away. It was a
disagreeable prospect to anticipate. But Captain Finch, who was himself
a lecturer on chemistry at the Imperial College of Science, Mr.
Somervell, and Captain Farrar, pressed so strongly for the use of
oxygen, and Mr. Unna was so convinced he could construct a reasonably
portable apparatus, that the Committee decided that the experiment
should be made. The value of using oxygen could thus be tested, and we
should know what were the prospects of reaching the summit of the
mountain either with or without its aid. Captain Farrar, Captain Finch,
and Mr. Unna therefore set about constructing an apparatus which would
hold the lightest procurable oxygen cylinders, and which could be
carried on the back by the climbers.

This final question having been settled, all the stores and equipment
having been purchased, packed, and despatched, the members of the
Expedition left England in March. But before I leave General Bruce to
take up the tale of their adventures, I must say yet one word more about
“the good” of climbing Mount Everest. These repeated efforts to reach
the summit of the world’s highest mountain have already cost human life.
They have also cost much physical pain, fatigue, and discomfort to the
climbers. They have been very expensive. And there is not the slightest
sign of any material gain whatever being obtained—not an ounce of gold,
or iron, or coal, or a single precious stone, or any land upon which
food or material could be grown. What, then, is the good of it all? Who
will benefit in the least even if the climbers do eventually get to the
top? These are questions which are still being continually asked me, so
I had better still go on trying to make as plain as I can what is the
good of climbing Mount Everest.

The most obvious good is an increased knowledge of our own capacities.
By trying with all our might and with all our mind to climb the highest
point on the earth, we are getting to know better what we really can do.
No one can say for certain yet whether we can or cannot reach the
summit. We cannot know till we try. But if—as seems much more probable
now than it did ten years ago—we can reach the summit, we shall know
that we are capable of more than we had supposed. And this knowledge of
our capacities will be very valuable. In my own lifetime I have seen
men’s knowledge of their capacity for climbing mountains greatly
increased. Men’s standard of climbing has been raised. They now know
that they can do what forty years ago they did not deem in the least
possible. And if they reach the summit of Mount Everest, the standard of
achievement will be still further raised; and men who had, so far, never
thought of attempting the lesser peaks of the Himalaya, will be climbing
them as freely as they now climb peaks in Switzerland.

And what then? What is the good of that? The good of that is that a
whole new enjoyment in life will be opened up. And enjoyment of life is,
after all, the end of life. We do not live to eat and make money. We eat
and make money to be able to enjoy life. And some of us know from actual
experience that by climbing a mountain we can get some of the finest
enjoyment there is to be had. We like bracing ourselves against a
mountain, pitting our mettle, our nerve, our skill, against the physical
difficulties the mountain presents, and feeling that we are forcing the
spirit within us to prevail against the material. That is a glorious
feeling in itself and a real tonic to the spirit—even when it does not
always conquer.

But that is not all. The wrestling with the mountain makes us love the
mountain. For the moment we may be utterly exhausted and only too
thankful to be able to hurry back to more congenial regions. Yet, all
the same, we shall eventually get to love the mountain for the very fact
that she has forced the utmost out of us, lifted us just for one
precious moment high above our ordinary life, and shown us beauty of an
austerity, power, and purity we should have never known if we had not
faced the mountain squarely and battled strongly with her.

This, then, is the good to be obtained from climbing Mount Everest. Most
men will have to take on trust that there is this good. But most of the
best things in life we have to take on trust at first till we have
proved them for ourselves. So I would beg readers of this book first
trustfully to accept it from the Everest climbers that there is good in
climbing great mountains (for the risks they have run and the hardships
they have endured are ample enough proof of the faith that is in them),
and then to go and test it for themselves—in the Himalaya, if possible,
or if not, in the Alps, the Rockies, the Andes, wherever high mountains
make the call.

                          THE NARRATIVE OF THE
                               EXPEDITION

                                   By
                  BRIGADIER-GENERAL HON. C. G. BRUCE,
                              C.B., M.V.O.

                               CHAPTER I

                            TO THE BASE CAMP

The precursor of the present volume, _The Reconnaissance of Mount
Everest in 1921_, sets forth fully the successful and strenuous work
which was accomplished in that year and which has rendered possible the
Expedition of the present year. The whole of our work lying in country
which had never previously been explored by Europeans, it was rendered
absolutely necessary for a full examination of the whole country to be
made before an attempt to climb Mount Everest could possibly be carried
out. We have to thank Colonel Howard-Bury and his companions, especially
his survey officers, for their important work, which rendered our task
in arriving at our base comparatively simple.

The object of the Expedition of 1922, of course, was the actual attack
on the mountain in an attempt to climb it; but no great mountain has
ever succumbed to the first attempt on it, and therefore it is almost
inconceivable that so tremendous a problem as the ascent of Mount
Everest should succeed at the very first effort. In fact, I myself am
more than satisfied, almost astounded, at the extraordinary success
attained by my companions in this endeavour. The problem that lay in
front of us, I think, should be first explained.

Mount Everest, as all know, lies on that part of the Himalaya which is
narrowest. It is, therefore, exposed very rapidly to the first assaults
of the South-west monsoon, and this monsoon advances up the Bay of
Bengal at an earlier period in the year than that of its Western branch,
the Gulf current. It is this fact which supplies the greatest difficulty
to be faced in an attack on any of the great peaks which lie in this
region, giving one an unusually short season. However, to a certain
extent this is counteracted by the fact that the winter climate in this
portion of the Himalaya is far drier than it is in the West. There is
less deposit of snow on the mountains in this section of the Himalaya
than there would be, for instance, in the Kashmir mountains, and this,
to some extent, makes up for the early advance of the monsoon, and
consequent bad weather, which renders any exploration of the great
heights during the time that the monsoon blows an impossibility.

Towards the end of May the monsoon arrives in Darjeeling, and then,
according to the strength of the current, quickly approaches the
Southern faces of the Himalaya, and, as the current strengthens, drifts
across their summits and through the gorges and over the lower ridges.
The problem, therefore, of any party exploring in these mountains
resolves itself into the rapidity with which they can establish their
base of operations in a suitable locality to explore the mountains and
to climb them. During the period of the very great cold, naturally, the
upper heights are impossible, and camping on the upper glaciers is in
itself also almost impossible. Travelling across Tibet in March,
crossing high passes of over 17,000 feet is such that, although it might
be perfectly possible to do, it would be a great strain on the stamina
of the party, and likely to detract from their condition. We had,
therefore, to adapt our advance into Tibet so as to make it at the
latest possible moment, in order to avoid the very worst of the weather,
and yet at the earliest possible moment, so that we could arrive at the
foot of our mountains with sufficient time to attack them before the
weather broke up and rendered mountaineering an impossibility at a great
height. It resolves itself, then, almost into a race against the
monsoon.

This was our problem, and it is my special province in these opening
chapters to show how we tackled it.

During the winter of 1921–2, the Mount Everest Committee, owing to the
lateness with which the party had returned after the reconnaissance, had
to work at very top speed. They had to collect all the necessary stores
for the party, and not only that, but also to select a suitable
mountaineering team; this was a considerable difficulty. Finally the
party was made up as follows: myself as leader, Colonel E. L. Strutt as
Second-in-Command, and Dr. Longstaff the official doctor and naturalist
of the Expedition. The climbing party pure consisted of Mr. Mallory (of
last year’s Expedition), Dr. Somervell, Dr. Wakefield, and Major Norton.
We had three transport officers, one of whom belonged to the Alpine
Club, and was considered an assistant of the climbing party, Mr. C. G.
Crawford, of the Indian Civil Service. The official photographer was
Captain Noel. Two officers in the Indian Army were attached to the
Expedition as transport officers—Captain J. G. Bruce and Captain C. G.
Morris. Later, on our arrival in Darjeeling, the party was further
reinforced by Major Morshead, who had been one of the survey party of
the previous year, and whose general knowledge of Tibet and of Tibetans
was of great service to us; and last, but not least, Captain George
Finch, who came not only as a most important member of the climbing
party, but also as the scientific expert in charge of the entire oxygen
outfit.

This large party was collected in Darjeeling by the last week in March,
and in a few days we were all ready to make a start. I myself preceded
the party by about a month, arriving in Delhi to interview the Indian
authorities about the 25th of February. Through the kindness of the
Commander-in-Chief, Lord Rawlinson, we were supplied with four young
non-commissioned officers of Captain Bruce’s regiment, the 2nd Battalion
6th Gurkha Rifles, and an orderly of the 1st Battalion 6th Gurkha
Rifles, and right well all these five Gurkhas carried out their duties.
As will be seen later, one of them, Lance-naik Tejbir Bura, very highly
distinguished himself.

I arrived in Darjeeling with Captain Bruce on March 1, and there I found
that our agent in India, Mr. Weatherall, had carried out the
instructions which he had received from England in the most efficient
manner. The large quantity of stores which we had ordered previously
were all beautifully packed and ready for transportation; the tents of
the previous year all mended and in good order; the stores of different
kinds, such as there were, which had been left also from the previous
year, had been put into order; and last and most important, 150 porters
had been collected for our inspection and from whom to make a selection.
He had also for us a large number of cooks to choose from, a most
excellent individual to look after the tents, Chongay, who proved quite
invaluable to us, and a local cobbler who had expressed his willingness
to come with the Expedition.

Owing to the tremendous hurry in which all arrangements had to be made
in England, the stores were forwarded in different batches. On our
arrival in Calcutta, we interviewed Mr. Brown, of the Army and Navy
Stores, whose work, both for the Expeditions of 1921 and of 1922, has
been quite beyond praise. He told us that only one instalment of stores
had yet arrived, but that the ships containing the remainder were
expected shortly. Luckily for us, we had at the Army and Navy Stores,
and acting in the interests of the Expedition, a most capable agent. As
the ships containing the stores arrived, the latter were unloaded,
rapidly passed through the Customs, and forwarded on to Kalimpong Road,
which is the terminus of the Darjeeling Railway and the Teesta Valley.
On arrival there they were met by our representative in no less a person
than Captain Morris, handed over to the contractors who were moving our
stores, and forwarded on to Tibet in advance of the Expedition. This
naturally required a great deal of arranging.

I must mention that, shortly after our arrival in Darjeeling, we were
joined by Captain Morris, who immediately left for Kalimpong, two stages
on our journey, to which place the whole of the outfit of the Expedition
was sent. We could not spare the time to wait for the arrival of the
oxygen, and therefore, when the party finally left Darjeeling, Captain
Finch, the scientist in whose charge the whole of the oxygen and
scientific apparatus had been put, remained behind with Mr. Crawford to
bring it up. Luckily, the ship arrived in Calcutta just as we were
leaving, and therefore the delay was less than we had anticipated.

The people of Darjeeling, both the British and the native
inhabitants—whether Tibetans or Hillmen—were all immensely interested in
our Expedition, and Mr. Laden La, the Deputy Superintendent of Police,
was, if anything, the most enthusiastic of them all. Mr. Laden La has
himself rendered excellent service to Government, and has travelled
greatly in Tibet. He is himself a Tibetan, and, I believe, is an
Honorary General in the Tibetan Army. His influence in Darjeeling and
the district is great, and his help to the Expedition was invaluable. He
arranged in Darjeeling, both as head of the Buddhist Association of
Darjeeling, and in conjunction with the Committee of the Hillmen’s
Association, that the whole of the party should be entertained by these
two Associations, and that the chief Lamas and Brahmins of the district
should bless and offer up prayers for the well-being and success of the
party. The entertainment went off most excellently, and it was
altogether a most interesting function. The Nepalese members of the
party were blessed by the Brahmins, but also, in order to confirm this
blessing, further received the blessings of the Lamas. I think there is
every reason for supposing that this small function assisted in bringing
home to all our porters and followers what was expected of them by their
own people, and it was very likely a good deal in consequence of this
that they behaved on the whole so extremely well. For it must be
understood that all these hill people, whether Nepalese or Tibetan, are
very light-hearted, very irresponsible, very high-spirited, and up to
the present time prohibition as a national measure is not exactly a
popular outlook; in fact, none of them on any occasion, unless well
looked after, lost any opportunity of looking on the wine when it is
red—or any other colour.

Our cooks had to be chosen with a good deal of care. Captain Bruce and
myself took the most likely candidates out into the hills and gave them
a good trial before we engaged them. One of them, who was a Nepalese,
had been an old servant of my own for many months; he was the only
Gurkha among them. The other three (for we gave ourselves an ample
outfit of four cooks) were Bhotias (Tibetans). They were the greatest
success, mostly because they are hard-working and ready to do any amount
of work; but they were good cooks too. Captain Noel also engaged an
excellent servant (also a cook), and Major Norton’s private servant
(another Tibetan) was very capable in the same way; so that we were
thoroughly well provided with an ample outfit, and wherever we were we
could count on having our meals properly prepared. This is one of the
important points in Tibetan travel, from the want of which I believe a
certain amount of the illness that was experienced in the previous year
was due.

We also engaged almost the most important subordinate member of the
Expedition—the interpreter, Karma Paul. He was quite young, and had been
a schoolmaster in Darjeeling. He had also worked, I believe, for a time
in an office in Calcutta. He was quite new to the kind of work that he
would have to do. But he was a great acquisition to the Expedition,
always good company and always cheerful, full of a quaint little vanity
of his own and delighted when he was praised. He served us very well
indeed from one end of the Expedition to the other, and it was a great
deal owing to his cheerfulness and to his excellent manners and way with
the Tibetans that we never had the smallest possible misunderstanding
with any officials, even of the lowest grades, to disturb our good
relations with the Tibetans of any kind or class. He also was bilingual,
for he had been born in Lhasa, and still had relations living there.

On March 26 the whole Expedition started off for Kalimpong by rail, with
the exception of Captain Finch and Mr. Crawford, who remained to bring
on the oxygen. Owing to the kindness of the Himalayan Railway Company,
we were all taken round by rail to Kalimpong Road free, the whole
Expedition travelling up the Teesta Valley in the normal manner, with
the exception of Captain Noel, who elected to ride on the roof of the
carriages in order to take pictures with his cinema camera of the Teesta
Valley. The junction at Siliguri, where the Teesta railway branches off
from the main line, is only 300 feet above the sea, the terminus at
Kalimpong Road about 700 feet above the sea, and therefore as one dives
down from the hills one enters into tropical conditions and passes
through the most magnificent tropical jungle and the steepest gorges and
ravines. It is a wonderful journey. Even the long spell of hot and dry
weather and the heat haze at this time of year were unable to spoil the
scenery. And though we saw it almost at its worst time, it remained
gorgeous.

At Kalimpong the Expedition broke up into two parties, but before we
left we had a very pleasant function to attend. I had been charged by
Sir Robert Baden-Powell to deliver a message to the scouts of Dr.
Graham’s Homes for European Children at Kalimpong. Not only that, but
incorporated with these scouts was the first small body of Nepalese
boy-scouts. It was a very interesting function indeed, and a most
enthusiastic one.

From there we pushed on stage by stage over the Jelep La into the Chumbi
Valley. Of course, journeys through Sikkim have often been described.
Again we were disappointed. On my first arrival in Darjeeling, the cold
weather had hardly finished, but now (March 28) we were well into the
hot weather of Bengal, and in consequence we were also in the
hot-weather haze. During the whole of our journey we never got a single
view of the gorgeous Southern faces of the Himalaya, of Kanchenjanga and
of its supporters, and especially of the wonderful Siniolchum peak. This
was a very great disappointment, as from several points on our road a
view of the Southern face can be obtained. Nevertheless, a journey
through Sikkim is always a wonderful experience. The steep and deeply
cut valleys, the wonderful clear mountain streams, and the inhabitants
and their means of cultivation, are all full of interest. The depth of
the valleys is always striking, and can never be anything else. When one
thinks that from Rongli Chu, situated only at 2,700 feet above the sea,
one rises in one continuous pull to close on 13,000 feet on the ridge
which looks down on the Gnatong bungalow, and travels through
cultivation and forest the whole way, passing through every phase of
Eastern Himalayan landscape, one cannot cease to be continually
impressed by the scale of the country. We were too early for the
rhododendrons on the way to Gnatong, but there were just sufficient in
flower to give us a mental vision of what these wonderful rhododendron
forests would be like in another three weeks.

On the way to Gnatong, at a height of 11,500 feet, we came to the little
village of Lungtung. Here there was a tea-house kept by some Nepalese.
It was spotlessly clean, or at least all the cooking arrangements were,
and here, as we came up, we all indulged in tea and the local cakes, and
found them both excellent. Not only that, but the little lady who kept
the shop was full of talk and full of chaff, and we all sat down and
enjoyed ourselves for more than an hour, keeping up a continuous flow of
conversation. All the men joined us as they came up, and I am afraid we
made rather a noise. As a matter of fact, all through Sikkim these
little tea-shops are to be found, and the tea is generally quite
drinkable. This little lady’s shop, though, was particularly well run
and attractive. When we left we promised to call and see her again on
our return, which promise we were able to fulfil.

The higher portions of the road from Gnatong over the Jelep are a very
great contrast. It is almost like a march through the Highlands of
Scotland, and hardly represents or brings to one’s mind the fact that
one is among great mountains. The Jelep, which is 14,300 feet above the
sea, is a perfectly easy pass, crossed by a horrid pavé road, very much
out of repair, the descent into the Chumbi Valley being, for animals,
the last word in discomfort. We employed altogether in our two parties
about eighty mules from the Chumbi Valley, and we were all immensely
struck by this wonderful transport. There is a considerable trade
carried on between Tibet and Chumbi in particular for seven or eight
months in the year, as on this road quantities of Tibetan wool are
brought down for sale at Kalimpong, very nearly all of it being brought
by the Chumbi muleteers, and most efficient they are. They thoroughly
understand the loading and care of mules, and the pace they travel at is
something to see. It is only understood if one walks for long distances
with, or often behind, a train of laden mules. No doubt, owing to the
continual changes from cold to warmth and heat, many sore backs are
occasioned, and further, owing to the tremendous stress and continuous
labour involved, many mules are worked that have no business to be
worked. The muleteers themselves, when talked to about it, say that it
distresses them, but they are hard put to it to carry out their work,
and see no method very often of being able to fulfil their contracts and
at the same time lay up their mules.

After crossing the Jelep La, and leaving Sikkim, it is almost like
diving into Kashmir, so great is the difference in the general
appearance of the country and in its forests. While we were sitting on
the top of the Jelep we had the most splendid view of Chomolhari (23,800
feet). It showed itself at its very best; the day was quiet and very
warm. Chomolhari stood out clearly, and still with plenty of atmosphere
round it. Snow-streamers were blowing out from its summit. It showed its
full height, and did full justice to its shape and beauty. It is a great
mountain which completely dominates Phari and its plain, and is the
striking feature as one enters Tibet from the Chumbi Valley. We all
admired it enormously, but the enthusiasm of the party was somewhat
damped when I pointed out to them that our high advanced base on
Everest, in fact, the camp that we hoped to establish on the North Col,
called the Chang La, which had been marked out the year before by Mr.
Mallory, was, in fact, only about 600 feet lower than the top of
Chomolhari itself.

  FROZEN WATERFALL, CHUMBI VALLEY.
]

On arrival at Richengong, which is at the foot of the valley which forms
the junction between the Jelep Valley and the valley of the Ammu Chu,
which is the Chumbi Valley, we were met by Mr. Macdonald, the British
Trade Agent, who lives at Chumbi, and his wonderfully dressed
chuprassis, and also by a guard of honour of 90 Panjabis, who supplied a
small guard both at Yatung, in Chumbi, and also at the British post in
Gyantse, on the road to Lhasa. We had a very pleasant ride by the Chumbi
Valley to Yatung. I had previously supplied myself in Darjeeling with a
treasure of a pony, Gyamda by name, who was locally very well known in
Darjeeling. He was only 12½ hands, but had the go and the stamina of a
very much bigger animal. He was attended by a sais who was nearly twice
as big as himself, and was one of the finest-built Tibetans I saw the
whole time. Gyamda himself hailed from the town of Gyamda, which is
about 12 miles South of Lhasa. His enormous sais hailed from Lhasa
itself, and, unfortunately, could hardly speak a word of anything but
Tibetan. However, he improved by degrees, and very soon we got on very
well. He adored the pony Gyamda, but had the habit of giving it, unless
looked after, at least a dozen eggs mixed with its grain. When we
stopped him doing this, he was caught hugging the pony round the neck
and saying to it, “Now they have cut your eggs, you will die, and what
shall I do?” Gyamda carried me right through the Expedition, and could
go over any ground, and came back as well as he left, never sick or
sorry, and always pleased with life.

We marched from Chumbi on April 5, accompanied by Mr. Macdonald and his
son, who had come to help us make all our transport arrangements when we
should arrive in Phari. Mr. Macdonald helped us on all occasions, and we
cannot thank him enough for all the trouble he took from now on and
during the whole time the Expedition was in Tibet. It was owing very
largely to his help that we were able in Phari to get our Expedition on
so soon, for he warned the two Dzongpens of Phari Dzong beforehand to
obtain adequate transport for us.

Again, the march from Yatung to Phari has been described on many
occasions, but it is quite impossible to march through it without
mentioning its character. It is, especially at the time of year we went
through, one of the darkest and blackest and most impressive forested
gorges that I have ever seen, and almost equally impressive is the
debouchment on to the Phari Plain at the head of the gorge, dominated as
it is by our old friend Chomolhari.

We arrived in Phari on April 6, and made our first real acquaintance
with the Tibetan wind. Phari is 14,300 feet, and winter was scarcely
over; the weather also was threatening. Luckily, there is a little
British Government rest-house and bungalow and serai at Phari, and there
we found comfortable quarters. We were joined on the following day by
the rest of the party. This really formed the starting-point of the
Expedition, and, further, it was my birthday, and the bottle of old rum,
120 years old, specially brought out for this occasion, was opened and
the success of the Expedition was drunk to. If we had known what was in
front of us, we should have put off the drinking of this peculiarly
comforting fluid until the evening of the day of our first march from
Phari. The two Phari Dzongpens, probably owing to the fact that Phari is
on the main route between Lhasa and India, were far and away the most
grasping and difficult of any officials that we met, but no doubt their
difficulties were pretty considerable. Although there is a great
quantity of transport to be obtained in Phari, at this time of the year
it is in very poor condition. Grazing exists, but one would never know
that it existed unless one was told, and also unless one saw herds of
yaks on the hillsides apparently eating frozen earth. Everything was
frozen hard. We had difficulty, therefore, in obtaining the transport
required. We found here collected the whole of our stores, with the
exception of the oxygen. Our excellent tindel,[1] Chongay, who had gone
on ahead, had got it all marshalled; the tents were also pitched and in
good order.

Footnote 1:

  Tent-mender.

On April 8 we set out from Phari, but had been obliged to reinforce the
local transport by re-engaging fifty of the Chumbi mules. We had been
obliged to do this because we were unable to get a sufficiency of
transport that was capable of carrying loads in Phari itself. But these
fifty mules were our salvation; without them, as it turned out, we
should have been in a bad way.

There are two roads that lead from Phari to Khamba Dzong, our next
objective; the short road passing over the Tang La and the Donka La, and
a long road which starts first on the road to Lhasa and turns finally
after two marches to the West. On account of the short time at our
disposal, and having regard to the fact that we had now in earnest begun
our race with the weather, we chose the shorter route. Owing to the
condition of the animals, all had agreed that the yaks could not
possibly, even by the short road, get to Khamba Dzong under six days. We
therefore divided our party again into two. The advance party, with
fifty Chumbi mules and a large collection of donkeys and particularly
active bullocks, and even some cows, were to march to Khamba Dzong in
four days, and were to be followed by 200 yaks in charge of our sardar,
Gyaljen, and two of the Gurkha non-commissioned officers, to wit, Naik
Hurké Gurung and Lance-naik Lal Sing Gurung, the other two Gurkhas being
in charge of the treasure-chest which accompanied the first party;
Lance-naik Tejbir Bura and Lance-naik Sarabjit Thapa were to march with
the first party.

The sardar Gyaljen had accompanied Colonel Howard-Bury’s party on the
first Expedition, and had, apparently, from the accounts given of him in
last year’s volume, not been a very great success. I, however, gave him
a second chance. He was a thoroughly capable man, and I had every hope,
as he knew that I had heard about him and had also seen the report that
had been made of him by Colonel Howard-Bury, that on this occasion he
would pull himself together and do well; in this we were not
disappointed. Of course, as all sophisticated men in his position are
likely to do, he was out to benefit himself; but we were able pretty
successfully to cope with this failing, and, generally speaking, his
services were of great value, especially on certain occasions.
Altogether, I think, he was a success.

Of course, we were rather well qualified from this point of view—both
Morris and Geoffrey Bruce had an excellent knowledge of Nepal and of the
Nepalese, and Nepalese is the one Eastern language which I may say that
I also have a good knowledge of. All Sherpas are tri-lingual—that is to
say, they talk their own Sherpa dialect of Tibet, Tibetan as a
mother-tongue, and nearly all of them Nepalese as well. Owing to their
being subjects of Nepal, the official language (that is, Nepalese) is
the one they are obliged to employ in dealing with the authorities. Also
nearly every one of the Tibetans we employed and who came with us from
Darjeeling spoke Nepali as their second language. In consequence of
this, nearly the whole of the work usually done by a sardar of coolies
in Darjeeling was carried out by the officers of the Expedition, who
dealt directly both with the men and with the people of the country.

On April 8 we started out. There was for a good long time a tremendous
scrimmage getting all the different loads packed on to the animals, and
dividing the animals, especially as the Tibetans had no idea of being
punctual, and in consequence the yaks, ponies for riding, mules and
bullocks, all drifted in at different times during the morning. Finally,
however, our two large mixed convoys were got off. It was really a great
piece of luck being able to keep the fifty Chumbi mules. These were
laden in the early morning with what was necessary for our camp and
despatched well before the rest of the luggage. The great convoy of 200
yaks was finally marshalled and sent off under the charge of the Gurkhas
and the sardar, but the advance party’s luggage was spread over miles of
country. In consequence of this, Geoffrey, Morris, and myself were
delayed until quite late in the morning.

  NUNS AT TA-TSANG.
]

Our first march was about 16 miles, and the day was very threatening. We
pushed along on ponies at a good pace and crossed the Tang La, which is
a little over 15,000 feet, in rough, but not actually wet, weather.
Luckily, the country is very open, over plains of more or less frozen
grass. Over the main chain of the Himalaya the clouds had settled, and
it was evident that the weather was breaking. A little after noon it
broke with a vengeance. The clouds settled down, it began to snow
heavily, and the wind increased to half a hurricane. Luckily, however,
most of our local men knew the road well, otherwise in this great open
and undulating country one could very easily get lost. The track, which
was fairly well marked otherwise, was completely and rapidly obliterated
in places. It was certainly a rather disheartening start. Morris was
delayed for a time to look after some luggage; Geoffrey and myself
pushed on. Going pretty quickly, we were able to pick up different
parties, and were lucky enough to pass one small encampment of Tibetans.
It was curious to see yaks contentedly chewing the cud, the whole of
their weather-side being a mass of frozen snow. They seemed to be quite
as happy lying out in a blizzard as though they had been ordinary
civilised cows in a barn.

About what is usually known as tea-time we sighted the camp. Our
excellent followers had got a few tents up, and I was fortunate enough
myself to find that the porter who was carrying my big coat had already
arrived. Nearly all Indian camp servants who are accustomed to
travelling in the Himalaya are good in a crisis, and, when things get
bad, come to the fore; but on this occasion they surpassed themselves.
It must be understood that, in Tibet, very, very seldom can anything but
dried yak-dung be found to make a fire with. On this occasion the snow
had obliterated everything, and in consequence a fire had to be
otherwise improvised. Some tents had been pitched, a fire had been got
going, and very soon a hot meal and hot tea were forthcoming. The rest
of the party gradually collected, but it was not until well after
nightfall that the whole of the advance transport had managed to arrive.
As a first march it certainly gave the party a very good idea of what
they might have to put up with in Tibet; it was a real good entry into
Tibetan travel. However, nobody was much the worse, and, the weather
having cleared during the night, we had a brilliant sight the following
morning.

On April 9, we made what I think was the hardest march undertaken on the
Expedition. Our path led us over the ridge in its three bifurcations
which runs North from Pawhunri and rapidly rises from our last camp,
each of these ridges being just 17,000 feet, slightly more or less, and
most of the path being at about 16,000 feet of elevation. At any time
early in April great cold would be expected at such a height, but on
this day the wind was blowing right over the Himalaya direct from the
snows across these passes, and howling down the gorges between them. It
was painfully cold, and the wind never abated from morning to night. We
left about seven o’clock in the morning, and it was well after nightfall
again before our transport was collected at our next camp at
Hung-Zung-trak. Longstaff and myself pushed on in search of the camp for
most of the day together, arriving before any of the animals at about
4.30 to five o’clock in the evening, and made our camp at the
above-named place under some overhanging cliffs with fairly good
grazing—such as grazing is in April—and with a stream beneath the camp
from which water could be obtained. We were very shortly followed by our
magnificent Chumbi transport, which had been pushing along at a
tremendous pace the whole day long. I do not know what we should have
done without it.

What was very much brought home to us was the absolute necessity of
windproof material to keep out the tremendous cold of these winds.
Fortunately, I had a very efficient mackintosh which covered everything,
but even then I suffered very considerably from the cold. It simply blew
through and through wool, and riding without windproof clothing would
have been very painful. It was also very fortunate for us that the
weather was really fine and the sun shone all day. I think we should
have been in a very bad way indeed if the blizzard had occurred on the
second day out from Phari, and not on the first.

However, by night we were all comfortably settled down, although the
whole of our advance stores did not arrive until after ten o’clock at
night again. Unfortunately, three of our porters who had stayed behind
with the slowest of the bullocks lost their way after dark. They stayed
out the whole night without bedding or covering, and in the morning
continued to the nunnery of Tatsang, which was about 4 or 5 miles
further down the valley and rather off our direct route. We here heard
of them and retrieved them. These men had not yet been issued with their
full clothes, and how they managed to sit out the night clothed as they
were and without any damage of any kind passes one’s comprehension. So
low was the temperature that night that the quickly flowing stream
outside our camp was frozen solid.

We halted the next day, as the transport was overdone, and the following
day (April 11) made another long, but very interesting, march direct to
Khamba Dzong, leaving the monastery of Tatsang on our right and crossing
high plains on which were grazing large herds of kyang and gazelle. The
mounted men had great fun trying to round up and get as close as
possible to the herds of kyang; they were trusting up to a point, but
never let us go close enough to get a good snap photograph of them.
Finally, the road led from the high plateau down to Khamba Dzong,
through what to several of us immediately became astonishingly familiar
country; for the whole surroundings of the Khamba Dzong Valley reminds
one very much of the scenery on the North-west frontier of India. But
what a difference in climate!

We camped at Khamba Dzong where last year’s Expedition had camped, and
were very well received by the same Dzongpen. We were gratified to find
Dr. Kellas’ grave in good order, and we further added to it a collection
of great stones. The inscription on the grave in English and Tibetan was
clear and clean. We were delayed in Khamba Dzong for three whole days,
partly because of the difficulty in collecting animals; also two days to
allow our main convoy of 200 yaks to catch us up, and we had the good
luck to be joined by Finch and Crawford, who had pushed on at a great
pace with the oxygen apparatus. They showed evident signs of wear and
tear, being badly knocked about by the weather. The storm had caught
them on the Jelep La, and as this is more South, there had been a very
much greater fall of snow, so much so that the Chumbi Valley was inches
deep in it. They spoke very highly indeed of all their followers, cooks
and Tibetans, and especially of a capital boy, Lhakpa Tsering, who had
come along with them as their special attendant. He was quite a young
boy, but had made the march in two days with them to Tatsang, where they
stayed for the night, without showing any particular signs of fatigue,
running along beside their ponies. I make a considerable point of the
following: I think great exertions and long marches at these high
altitudes before acclimatisation is complete would have tended to
exhaust, and not to improve, the training of the party, whereas to have
a pony with one and be able to walk or ride when one felt tired or
blown, gradually allowed the body to adjust itself. At any rate, I am
perfectly certain that if every one had been obliged to walk instead of
being able to ride, even on the terribly inadequate ponies that were
supplied to them in Tibet, but which, at any rate, gave them the
much-needed rest, they would not have arrived at the Rongbuk Glacier fit
to do the work which they afterwards successfully tackled.

Our march from Khamba Dzong to Tinki and from Tinki to Shekar was
exactly by the route followed by Colonel Howard-Bury in the previous
year, and calls for no particular comment on my part, with the exception
that two small parties of Finch and Wakefield and Mallory and Somervell
made a good attempt at Gyangka-nangpa to climb a 20,000-foot peak,
Sangkar Ri, on the way. This they were not quite able to do.

We had no difficulty in crossing the great sand-dunes where the Yaru
River joins the Arun, as we were able to cross it in the early morning
before the wind had arisen. But on that morning, when we came to the
junction of the valley of the Arun, we had a most wonderful and clear
view of Mount Everest to the South. Although it was over 50 miles
distant in a straight line, it did not look more than twenty. The whole
of the face that was visible to us was smothered in snow. The entire
setting of the piece was very strange; the country was almost bare
enough to remind one of a crumpled Egyptian desert, and the strangeness
and wonder was hugely increased by the South of the valley being filled
with this wonderful mountain mass.

At Shekar, where we arrived on April 24, we were again delayed for three
days getting transport. We found the Dzong filled with Lamas. There is a
great monastery in Shekar itself, and one of less account a little
further beyond. The great Lama of Shekar is an extremely cunning old
person and a first-class trader. In his quarters at the monastery he had
immense collections of Tibetan and Chinese curios, and he knew the price
of these as well as any professional dealer. We saw a great deal, in
fact, a great deal too much, of the Lamas of Shekar. They were the most
inconceivably dirty crowd that we had met in Tibet; the dirt was quite
indescribable. Although the people in Lhasa in good positions are
reported to be generally cleanish, here in the more out-of-the-way parts
of Tibet washing appears to be entirely unknown, except to the
Dzongpens, and I believe that the ordinary Dzongpen only has a
ceremonial bath on New Year’s Eve as a preparatory to the new year, and
I should not be at all surprised if Mrs. Dzongpen did too. At any rate,
the Dzongpens’ families were always infinitely better cared for in this
respect than anyone else. These people, however, have the most terribly
dirty cooks it is possible for the human imagination to conceive. For
this reason I never was very happy as a guest, and although the food
provided for one’s entertainment was often quite pleasant to eat, it was
absolutely necessary not to allow one’s imagination to get to work.

The three days’ delay at Shekar was greatly due to the movement of
officials and troops marching by the same route from Tingri to Shigatse,
and as they had commissioned every available animal, they interfered
considerably with our movements. Shekar was not comfortable during these
days; the wind was not continuous, but came in tremendous gusts, and
dust-devils were continually tearing through the camp and upsetting
everything. Shekar, as Colonel Howard-Bury has described it, is
wonderfully situated. The pointed mass of rock rises direct from the
plains, and the white monasteries and white town are built on its sides.
The illustration will describe it much better than I can. Shekar means
“Shining glass.” All the towns and houses on the sides of the mountain
are brilliantly white and show up very clearly against the dark browns
and reds of the hillside. It is no doubt this appearance which gives it
its name.

The Dzongpen at Shekar was a most important official. The whole of the
country South of Shekar and the Rongbuk Valley where we were going were
in his jurisdiction. We hoped that if we could only gain his own
goodwill as well as his official goodwill, it would be of very great
advantage to us. We entertained each other freely, and he was very
pleased with the lengths of kin kob[2] which I gave to himself and his
wife, and also with the photographs of the Dalai and Tashi Lamas which I
gave to him. By showing him pictures and taking his own picture, we were
able to make great friends with him, to our great advantage. He sent
with us his agent, Chongay La, who served us well during the whole of
our time in the Rongbuk Glacier; in fact, without him we should have had
great difficulty in obtaining the large amount of stores, grain, and
Tibetan coolies which were necessary for us in order to keep our very
large party properly provisioned when we were high up on the
mountain-side.

Footnote 2:

  Brocade.

Among our other presents was the inevitable Homburg hat. Wherever we
went we presented a Homburg hat. I had provided myself with a large
number of these hats from Whiteaway and Laidlaw before leaving
Darjeeling. These were a cheap present, but very much valued. Any high
man of a village known as a Gembo La would do anything for a Homburg
hat; it was ceremoniously placed on his head and was invariably well
received. In fact, all recipients visibly preened themselves for some
time afterwards.

From Shekar our route differed slightly from Colonel Howard-Bury’s. He
had taken the direct road to Tingri, but our objective was the Rongbuk.
Therefore we crossed the Arun for the first time, and, crossing by the
Pang La, descended into the Dzakar Chu. This was one of the pleasantest
marches that we had made. The country was new—even Mallory had only been
over part of it. The Pang La (meaning “the Grass Pass”) was altogether
very interesting, and from its summit, where we all collected and
lunched, we had again a fine view of Everest, and on this occasion the
mountain was almost clear of snow and gave one a very different
impression. We here recognised the fact that Everest, on its North face,
is essentially a rock peak. Unfortunately for us, it did not remain
clear of snow for long, rough weather again coming up; the next time we
saw it we found it again clothed from head to foot in snow.

Four marches from Shekar found us at Rongbuk, the final march from
Chodzong to the Rongbuk Monastery being extremely interesting. There is
only one word for it: the valleys of Tibet leading up to the Rongbuk
Monastery are hideous. The hills are formless humps, dull in colour; of
vegetation there is next to none. At our camp at Chodzong, however, on
the hillside opposite our camp, there was quite a large grove of
thorn-trees. We had visions of a wood fire very quickly damped when we
were told that this grove was inhabited by the most active and most
malicious of demons, and that he would promptly get to work if we
interfered and carried away any sticks from his grove.

The Upper Rongbuk Valley is an extremely sacred valley; no animals are
allowed to be killed in it. In fact, the great Mani at the mouth of the
valley opposite the village of Chobu marks the limit beyond which
animals are not allowed to be killed. We were told that if we wanted any
fresh meat it was all to be killed lower down the valley and carried up
to us. The Tibetans themselves live very largely on dried meats, both
yak meat and mutton. I have never tried it myself, and its appearance
was enough to put off anyone but a hungry dog, but I am told that when
cooked it is by no means bad. Most Tibetans, however, eat it raw in its
dried state. I bought quantities of both sorts for the porters. They
cooked it as they would cook fresh meat, and it seemed to suit them very
well. For the sake of their health, however, I gave them, whenever
possible, fresh meat, and with the very finest results.

  RONGBUK MONASTERY AND MOUNT EVEREST.
]

Rongbuk means “the valley of precipices or steep ravines.” The Lepchas
of Sikkim are occasionally called “Rong Pa,” i.e., the people of steep
ravines. It is also used for Upper Nepal, or rather for the people on
the Southern faces of the Himalayan heights, as they are people of the
steep ravines. I have also heard it used to mean Nepal itself. Some five
miles up the valley one comes out on to a plateau and is suddenly almost
brought up against the walls of the Rongbuk Monastery. Here also, as we
came out to the Rongbuk Monastery, we found the whole Southern end of
the valley filled with Mount Everest and quite close to us—apparently.
In any European climate one would have said that it was a short march to
its base, and one would have been terribly wrong. The air is
astonishingly clear; the scale is enormous. The mountain was 16 miles
off.

We pitched our camp just below the monastery with considerable
difficulty, as the wind was howling rather more than usual. Then we went
up to pay our respects to the Rongbuk Lama. This particular Lama was
beyond question a remarkable individual. He was a large, well-made man
of about sixty, full of dignity, with a most intelligent and wise face
and an extraordinarily attractive smile. He was treated with the utmost
respect by the whole of his people. Curiously enough, considering the
terrible severity of the climate at Rongbuk, all his surroundings were
far cleaner than any monastery we had previously, or indeed
subsequently, visited. This Lama has the distinction of being actually
the incarnation of a god, the god Chongraysay, who is depicted with nine
heads. With his extraordinary mobility of expression, he has also
acquired the reputation of being able to change his countenance. We were
received with full ceremony, and after compliments had been exchanged in
the usual way by the almost grovelling interpreter, Karma Paul (who was
very much of a Buddhist here), the Lama began to ask us questions with
regard to the objects of the Expedition. He was very anxious also that
we should treat his people kindly. His inquiries about the objects of
the Expedition were very intelligent, although at the same time they
were very difficult to answer. Indeed, this is not strange when one
comes to think how many times in England one has been asked—What is the
good of an exploration of Everest? What can you get out of it? And, in
fact, what is the object generally of wandering in the mountains? As a
matter of fact, it was very much easier to answer the Lama than it is to
answer inquiries in England. The Tibetan Lama, especially of the better
class, is certainly not a materialist. I was fortunately inspired to say
that we regarded the whole Expedition, and especially our attempt to
reach the summit of Everest, as a pilgrimage. I am afraid, also, I
rather enlarged on the importance of the vows taken by all members of
the Expedition. At any rate, these gentle “white lies” were very well
received, and even my own less excusable one which I uttered to save
myself from the dreadful imposition of having to drink Tibetan tea was
also sufficiently well received. I told the Lama, through Paul, who,
fortunately enough, was able to repress his smiles (an actual record for
Paul, which must have strained him to his last ounce of strength), that
I had sworn never to touch butter until I had arrived at the summit of
Everest. Even this was well received. After that time I drank tea with
sugar or milk which was made specially for me.

  THE EXPEDITION AT BASE CAMP.
  _Left to Right, Back Row_: MAJOR MORSHEAD, CAPTAIN GEOFFREY BRUCE,
    CAPTAIN NOEL, DR. WAKEFIELD, MR. SOMERVELL, CAPTAIN NORRIS, MAJOR
    NORTON.
  _Front Row_: MR. MALLORY, CAPTAIN FINCH, DR. LONGSTAFF, GENERAL BRUCE,
    COLONEL STRUTT, MR. CRAWFORD.
]

A word about Tibetan tea: the actual tea from which it is originally
made is probably quite sufficiently good, but it is churned up in a
great churn with many other ingredients, including salt, nitre, and
butter, and the butter is nearly invariably rancid, that is, as commonly
made in Tibet. I believe a superior quality is drunk by the upper
classes, but at any rate, to the ordinary European taste, castor-oil is
pleasant in comparison. One of the party, however, had managed to
acquire a taste for it, but then some people enjoy castor-oil!

The Lama finally blessed us and blessed our men, and gave us his best
wishes for success. He was very anxious that no animals of any sort
should be interfered with, which we promised, for we had already given
our word not to shoot during our Expedition in Tibet. He did not seem to
have the least fear that our exploring the mountain would upset the
demons who live there, but he told me that it was perfectly true that
the Upper Rongbuk and its glaciers held no less than five wild men.
There is, at any rate, a local tradition of the existence of such
beings, just as there is a tradition of the wild men existing right
through the Himalaya.

As a matter of fact, I really think that the Rongbuk Lama had a friendly
feeling for me personally, as he told the interpreter, Karma Paul, that
he had discovered that in a previous incarnation I had been a Tibetan
Lama. I do not know exactly how to take this. According to the life you
lead during any particular incarnation, so are you ranked for the next
incarnation; that is to say, if your life has been terrible, down you go
to the lowest depths, and as you acquire merit in any particular
existence, so in the next birth you get one step nearer to Nirvana. I am
perfectly certain that he would consider a Tibetan Lama a good bit
nearer the right thing than a Britisher could ever be, and so possibly
he may have meant that I had not degenerated so very far anyhow. I
should have liked to know, however, what the previous incarnations of
the rest of the party had been!

I think in my present incarnation the passion that I have for taking
Turkish baths may be some slight reaction from my life in the previous
and superior conditions as a Tibetan Lama.

The following morning, in cold weather, as usual, we left to try and
push our camp as high up as possible. Our march now became very
interesting, and we passed on our road, which was fairly rough, six or
seven of the hermits’ dwellings. These men are fed fairly regularly from
the monasteries and nunneries, and do not necessarily take their vows of
isolation for ever all at once. They try a year of it and see how they
get on before they take the complete vows, but how it is possible for
human beings to stand what they stand, even for a year, without either
dying or going mad, passes comprehension. Their cells are very small,
and they spend the whole of their time in a kind of contemplation of the
ōm, the god-head, and apparently of nothing else. They are supposed to
be able to live on one handful of grain per diem, but this we were able
successfully to prove was not the case; they appear, as far as we could
make out, to have a sufficiency of food always brought to them. However,
there they are in little cells, without firing or warm drinks, all the
year round, and many of them last for a great number of years.

Our march took us right up to the snout of the main Rongbuk Glacier, and
on arrival there we vainly endeavoured to get our yak-men to push up the
trough between the glacier and the mountain-side. There was promptly a
strike among the local transport workers, but the employers of labour
were wise enough to give in to their demands. If we had pushed further
up, we must have injured a great number of animals, and finally have
been obliged to return. So we found a fairly good site, protected to a
small extent from the prevailing West wind, and there we collected the
whole of our outfit and pitched our camp. I do not think such an
enormous cavalcade could possibly have mounted the Rongbuk Glacier
before. There were over 300 baggage animals, about twenty ponies, fifty
or sixty men in our own employ, and the best part of 100 Tibetans,
either looking after us or coming up as representatives of the Shekar
Dzongpen. Finally, all were paid off, and the Expedition was left alone
in its glory. The date was the 1st of May.

                               CHAPTER II

                      THE ASSAULT ON THE MOUNTAIN

Now began in earnest our race against the monsoon. I have often been
asked since my return, whether we should not have done better if we had
started sooner. I think none of us would have cared to have arrived at
our Upper Rongbuk camp a fortnight earlier in the year, nor, having done
so, would any good purpose have been served. As it was, the temperature
and the coldness of the wind was as much as any of us could keep up with
and still keep our good health. This was to be our Base Camp at a height
of 16,500 feet. We made suitable dumps of stores, pitched our mess
tents, put all our porters in tents at their own particular places, and
made ourselves as comfortable as circumstances allowed, strengthening
the tents in every way to resist the wind. Noel also pitched his
developing tent near the small stream that issues from the Rongbuk
Glacier. On our arrival water was hardly available; all the running
streams were frozen hard, and we drove the whole of our animals over
them. Where the glacier stream flowed fastest in the centre, we got
sufficient water for drinking purposes.

  VIEW AT BASE CAMP.
]

The establishment and support of such a large party (for we were
thirteen Europeans and over sixty of what may be termed other ranks) in
a country as desolate and as bare as Tibet is a difficulty. There is, of
course, no fuel to be found, with the exception of a very little scrubby
root which, burnt in large quantities, would heat an oven, but which was
not good enough or plentiful enough for ordinary cooking purposes.

Our first work, beyond the establishment of the Base Camp, was
immediately to send out a reconnaissance party. Strutt was put in charge
of this, and chose as his assistants Norton, Longstaff, and Morshead.
The remainder of the party had to work very hard dividing stores and
arranging for the movement up to the different camps we wished to make
on the way up the East Rongbuk Glacier to the North Col. It was pretty
apparent from Major Wheeler’s map that our advance up the East Rongbuk
to the glacier crossed by Mr. Mallory in 1921, which is below the Chang
La, would not be a very difficult road. But it was a very considerable
question how many camps should be established, and how full provision
should be made for each? We were naturally very anxious to save our own
porters for the much more strenuous work of establishing our camp at the
North Col, and perhaps of further camps up the mountain. I had,
therefore, on our march up, made every possible endeavour to collect a
large number of Tibetan coolies in order that they should be employed in
moving all the heavy stuff as far up the glacier as possible; in fact,
until we came to ground which would not be suitable to them, or, rather,
not suitable to their clothing. They were perfectly willing to work on
any ground which was fairly dry, but their form of foot-covering would
certainly not allow of continual work in snow. We had a promise of
ninety men.

We further had to make full arrangements for a regular supply of
yak-dung, the whole of which, as in fact everything to burn in Tibet, is
called “shing,” which really means wood; all our fuel, therefore, from
now on, will be referred to as “shing.” All tzampa,[3] meat, and grain
for the men had to be procured as far down as Chobu, Tashishong, and
even from other villages still further down the Dzakar Chu; that is to
say, very often our supplies were brought up from at least 40 miles
distant. We required a pretty continuous flow of everything. It is
wonderful how much even seventy men can get through.

Footnote 3:

  Flour.

The preliminary reconnaissance had fixed an excellent camp as our first
stage out. Geoffrey Bruce and Morris, with our own porters went up, and,
so as to save tents, built a number of stone shelters and roofed them
with spare parts of tents. This camp was immediately provisioned and
filled with every kind of supply in large amounts in order to form again
a little base from which to move up further. Strutt returned with his
reconnaissance on May 9, having made a complete plan for our advance and
having fixed all our camps up to the flat glacier under the North Col.
During this period Finch had also been very active with his oxygen
apparatus, not only in getting it all together, but continuing the
training of the personnel and in making experiments with the Leonard
Hill apparatus as well. He also gave lectures and demonstrations on the
use of our Primus stove, with which everybody practised. Primus stoves
are excellent when they are carefully treated, but are kittle cattle
unless everything goes quite as it should, and are apt to blow up.

Longstaff suffered considerably on the reconnaissance, and was brought
down not too fit. We also had a real set-back—our ninety coolies did not
eventuate, only forty-five appearing, and these coolies only worked for
about two days, when they said that their food was exhausted and they
must go down for more. We took the best guarantee we could for their
return by keeping back half their pay. They went for more food, but
found it in their houses and stopped there; we never saw them again.
However, it is not to be wondered at. If ploughing in the upper valleys
is to be done at all, it is to be done in May. They were, therefore,
very anxious to get back to their homes. Ninety men is a big toll for
these valleys to supply, but their behaviour left us rather dispirited.
We had to turn every one on to work, and then we had to make every
possible exertion to collect further coolies from the different
villages. The Chongay La who came with us, and who understood our needs,
was frantic, but said he could do nothing. However, we persuaded him to
do something, at any rate, and further offered very high prices to all
the men who had come. He certainly played up and did his very best. Men
came up in driblets, or rather men, women, and children came, as every
one in this country can carry loads, and they seem to be quite
unaffected by sleeping out under rocks at 16,000 or 17,000 feet.

For the whole time we remained at the Rongbuk Base Camp the equipping
and supply of our first and second camps up the East Rongbuk was mostly
carried out by local coolies, and the supply of these was very difficult
to assure. We never knew whether we should have three or four men
working, or thirty; they came up for different periods, so that we would
often have a dozen men coming down and four or five going up, and in
order to keep their complete confidence, they were received and paid
personally by myself or the transport officers. By degrees their
confidence was restored, and a very fair stream of porters arrived. Not
only that, but many of the men’s own relations came over from
Sola-Khombu, which is a great Sherpa Settlement at the head of the Dudh
Kosi Valley in Nepal. To reach us they had to cross the Ngangba La,
sometimes called the Khombu La, which is 19,000 feet in height. Often
the men’s relations came and were willing to carry a load or two and
then go off again. The mothers often brought their children, even of
less than a year old, who did not apparently suffer. It is evidently a
case of the survival of the fittest.

  CAMP II. AT SUNSET.
]

We had brought also large stores of rice, sugar, tea, and wheat grain,
both for the use of the officers of the Expedition and of the porters,
for fear we should run short of grain, and this proved a great stand-by.
The very rough tzampa of Tibet is often upsetting even to those most
accustomed to it. It was found to be an excellent policy to feed our
porters on the good grain when they came down to the Base Camp, and to
use the tzampa, which is cooked and ready for eating, at the upper
camps. Meat also had to be bought low down, sheep killed low down in the
valleys, and brought up for the use of the officers and men, and often
fresh yak meat for the porters. The Gurkhas got the fresh mutton. Dried
meat was brought up in large quantities for the porters, and proved of
the greatest use.

On the return, having received a full report from the reconnaissance
party, we tackled in earnest the establishment of the different camps.

Camp III, which was under the North Col, was first established in full.
This was to be our advance base of operations; and Mallory and Somervell
established themselves there, their business being to make the road to
the North Col while the rest of the Expedition was being pushed up to
join them. On May 13, Mallory, Somervell, and one coolie, together with
a tent, reached the North Col and planted the tent there.

This must be described as the beginning of the great offensive of May,
1922. Owing to the lack of coolies, all our officers and men had been
working at the highest possible speed, pushing forward the necessary
stores, camp equipage, and fuel to Camps I and II, and from thence
moving on to Camp III, Gurkhas being planted at each stage, whose
business it was to take the convoys to and fro. Finally, Camps I, II,
and III were each provided with an independent cook.

The duties of the cook at Camp III were the duties of an ordinary cook
in camp; those of the cooks at Camps I and II were to provide all
officers passing through or staying there with meals as they were
required, and right well all these three men carried out their duties.
The distance from the Base Camp to the advance base at Camp III was
fairly evenly divided, Camp I being at about three hours’ journey for a
laden animal at a height of 17,800 feet; Camp II a further four hours up
the glaciers at a height of 19,800 feet, and directly below the lesser
peak which terminates the Northern ridge of Everest; Camp III on moraine
at the edge of the open glacier below the Chang La, at a height of
21,000 feet, about four hours again beyond Camp II.

As our supply of Tibetan coolies improved, and as the main bulk of the
necessary supplies was put into Camp III, and the oxygen and its
complete outfit had been deposited in this camp, the hard work of
supplying rations and fuel to Camps I and II was entirely in the hands
of the local Tibetans. From Camp II to Camp III one encounters real
mountaineering conditions, as crevassed glaciers have to be crossed,
requiring in places considerable care. The road from the Base Camp to
Camp II, rough enough in all conscience, was such as could very easily
be negotiated by mountain people.

On May 14, Strutt, Morshead, and Norton left to join the advance party
at Camp III. The weather was even worse than before, the wind blowing a
perfect hurricane during the daytime, and the thermometer sinking to
zero even in the Base Camp. I asked the Chongay La why it should be that
as summer was approaching the weather should be continuously worse. He
accounted for this without any difficulty. He said in the middle of the
month, each month, in fact, at the Rongbuk Monastery there were special
services held. These services invariably irritated the demons on the
mountains, and they attempted to put a stop to them by roaring more than
usually loud. As soon as the services stopped, these winds would stop
too. The services stopped on May 17, and the Chongay La said we could
expect better weather on that date.

On May 16 the last of the oxygen, with Finch, left for the upper camps,
and it is a curious thing that about that time the weather did slightly
improve. On May 20, I received a letter from Strutt telling me of the
establishment of the camp on the North Col; he himself also accompanied
the party that reached the North Col. Here they made a very considerable
encampment, and put in it such light stores and cooking apparatus as
would be available for parties stopping there and attacking the mountain
from that spot. It is very curious how on this Expedition the standard
of what we expected from all our members went up. It was looked upon as
a foregone conclusion that any member of the party could walk with
comfort to the North Col (23,000 feet). It is quite right, no doubt,
that the standard should have been set so high; but it is a little
amazing, when one comes to think, that only on one occasion before has a
night been spent as high as 23,000 feet, and that on very, very few
occasions has this height been even attained. Strutt was quite by way of
looking upon himself as a worn-out old gentleman because he felt tired
at 23,000 feet. No doubt that is the standard we should set for
ourselves; but even 23,000 feet is a tremendous undertaking, and no one
at any time or at any age of life need be anything but pleased with
himself if he can get there.

The party established at Camp III made little expeditions to the Lhakpa
La and Ra-piu-la, and obtained a fine view of Makalu and the Northern
face of Everest; but the views so obtained also gave them a sight of the
approaching monsoon, and this made every one very nervous about the
length of time there was left to us for our actual attack on the
mountain. It was this very point, including also the evidence of rough
and uncertain weather which had been experienced round the mountain
itself, that decided Strutt to allow four members to make an attempt on
the mountain without oxygen. Certain defects had been found in the
oxygen apparatus, and Finch was employed in rectifying these
difficulties, and at the same time he was not quite ready to proceed
further. Geoffrey Bruce was also working with him at Camp III, and made
great progress in the use of the oxygen. They also roped in as their
assistant the Gurkha Tejbir, having for him a special rôle.

It is not for me to describe in detail the great attempt on the mountain
made by the party consisting of Mallory, Somervell, Morshead, and
Norton, but I must point out quite clearly that as a _tour de force_
alone it stands, in my opinion, by itself. It was the most terrific
exertion, carried out during unfavourable weather and in the face of
that dreadful West wind. Not only did they reach the prodigious height
of 26,985 feet without the assistance of oxygen, but they passed a night
at 25,000 feet.

I think it is pretty clear from their accounts that any further
expedition must be clothed in windproof suitings, and these of the
lightest, when attacking Everest, or probably any other great mountain
in this particular part of the world. Morshead, who suffered far more
than any of the others from the cold, did not employ his windproof
suiting in the early part of the climb, and I believe by this omission
he very greatly decreased his vitality, and it was probably this
decrease which was the reason of his terrible frostbites.

It was a tremendous effort, unparalleled in the history of mountain
exploration, but it gave immense confidence to all that the mountain was
not unconquerable. If on the first occasion such a gigantic height could
be reached, we were pretty certain that later, with the experience so
gained, and with the weather in the climbers’ favour instead of the
horrible conditions under which this climb was undertaken, the mountain
would in time yield to assault.

The following day, notwithstanding their fatigue, they determined to get
down to Camp I. They certainly were a sight on arrival; I have never
seen such a crowd of swollen and blistered and weary mountaineers
before, but they were all naturally tremendously elated with their
performance. Strutt came down with them, and quite rightly too; he had
been a very long time living above 21,000 feet, and this in itself is a
great strain. I thoroughly endorse his judgment in making this great
attempt without oxygen. At first sight it would seem that it was not
wise to send so many of the best climbers at once on to the mountain
before the oxygen apparatus was ready, but he felt (and I consider he
was quite right) that as the weather was so bad and the monsoon was
evidently arriving before its time, and as at the moment the oxygen
apparatus was in such a doubtful condition, it was far better to make an
attempt than possibly to fail in making any attempt at all.

  MOUNT EVEREST FROM CAMP III.
]

During the time that the great attempt on the mountain without oxygen
was being made, Finch was employed in getting the oxygen apparatus into
order. It had suffered in a good many ways, and the method of inhaling
the oxygen appeared to be deficient, the face-masks, in fact, causing a
feeling of suffocation and not allowing a sufficiency of ordinary air to
be inhaled. Finch had a very difficult time getting all this apparatus
into order in this very high camp. It would have been difficult
anywhere, but up here in the great cold and the great height it was
infinitely more troublesome. As soon as the apparatus was in working
order, they made numerous training walks up on to the passes, looking
down into the heart of the Kharta Valley, from where they were able to
see the Southern faces of the Himalaya and to know the way in which the
clouds were pushing up from the South.

They had also instructed, to a certain extent, the Gurkha Tejbir Bura in
the use of oxygen, as they intended him to help them in their advance on
the mountain.

About the time the other party left for the Base Camp, Finch and
Geoffrey Bruce set off for the camp on the Chang La, Camp IV, taking
with them twelve laden coolies to carry their outfit. I will not attempt
to describe their subsequent mountaineering operations in detail, as
these must be left to Finch’s narrative in a subsequent chapter, but
there are a great many points to which attention might be drawn. First,
although Geoffrey Bruce is thoroughly accustomed to work on the
hillside, he had never before this big attempt, and before the few
practice walks that he had with Finch, attempted a snow mountain in his
life; the nearest thing he had been to it was following game in Kashmir.
It was, therefore, for him a very great test. The same also applies to
the Gurkha; although he is a born mountain man and has hardly been off
the hillside the whole of his life, up to the time of the climb he knew
nothing about snow and ice as understood by a Swiss mountaineer.
However, they had a first-rate leader, and his trust in them proved
anything but ill-placed.

Owing to a terrific gale, they had to spend two nights at 25,500 feet.
They were all short of food, and no doubt greatly exhausted, and I think
they would have been perfectly justified, after two nights spent at this
tremendous altitude, if they had given up their attempt and returned,
but they had too much grit for that. Here should have come in the use of
Tejbir if he had been quite himself. He was given extra oxygen to carry,
and their intention was that, after proceeding as far as the ridge, he
should be sent back to their camp to wait their descent. However, Tejbir
was completely played out when he had reached 26,000 feet.

The party continued until they reached a point which has been found to
work out at 27,235 feet. Here Geoffrey had an accident to his oxygen
apparatus, and, far from becoming immediately unconscious (as we had
been warned would be the case before we left England if climbers were
suddenly deprived of their artificial oxygen supply), he was able to
attach himself to Finch’s instrument while Finch was repairing the
damaged apparatus. Slightly higher than this point they were completely
exhausted, and had to beat a retreat, the whole party finally descending
to the North Col, where food was found ready for them, and by the
evening got down to Camp III itself—a great performance, considering the
altitude and that the descent was over 6,000 feet. I think it is pretty
certain that Tejbir’s breakdown was largely due to his not having a
windproof suit. This biting West wind goes through wool as if it was
paper, and he was exposed to it for a great period of time, and no doubt
it very largely sapped his vitality.

One result of this last attempt is that it increases our hopes, almost
to the point of certainty, that, with luck and good weather, and when
the oxygen apparatus has been further improved, the summit of Everest
will be attained.

All the time the porters were working from our Base Camp and up there
was great competition between them, and also considerable betting as to
who would do the hardest work—the true Tibetan-born porters or the
Sherpas from the South. It was rather amusing to see the superior airs
which the Sherpas invariably gave themselves in travelling through
Tibet. They considered Tibetans undoubtedly jăngli,[4] and treated them
very much from the point of view that a clever Londoner does the
simplest form of yokel when he appears in London. At any rate, they
backed themselves heavily to beat the Tibetans. It was a pretty good
race, but finally they came out well on top; in fact, I think all but
one who reached 25,000 feet and over were Sherpas. Paul, the
interpreter, and Gyaljen, had a great bet also about the officers, Paul
favouring Finch and Gyaljen Mallory. As a matter of fact, there was
quite a little book made among all the followers with regard to who
would go highest among the officers. I did not even belong to the “also
rans” between them. Oxygen was looked upon as a matter of no particular
importance, and I believe Paul made Gyaljen pay up, as he had won with
Finch against Mallory.

Footnote 4:

  Wild.

On May 27 we welcomed the arrival of John Macdonald with a further
supply of money, as, owing to the large calls of our enormous transport,
we had been afraid of running short. This was very cheering to us
indeed, and also a very great help, for, besides the money, Mr.
Macdonald brought with him two or three servants very well accustomed to
travel in Tibet and knowing all the people of the country. These we were
able to use as special messengers, and we sent off immediately by them
an account of the climbs that had occurred. The second of them was
unfortunately delayed by illness, and this accounted for the slight
delay in letting the world know of our great second “oxygen” climb. The
first messenger rode through in ten days from Rongbuk to Phari, and by
so doing almost caught up the previous letters which had been despatched
through the Dzongpens. Arrangements are, after all, not so bad in Tibet.
When one considers that Tibetans themselves have no understanding or
care for time, the promptness with which the different communications
were sent through was rather wonderful. There were, on occasions, no
doubt, hitches, but, generally speaking, the postal arrangements worked
very well.

The weather had become more and more threatening, but we could not bring
ourselves absolutely to give up for this year the attempts on Everest;
at the same time, the casualties were heavy. Our medical members had all
got to work and had tested thoroughly each member of the Expedition that
had been employed. It was evidently absolutely necessary that Morshead
should return as quickly as possible into hospital in India, and there
were also several other members who were suffering from their hard work.
Longstaff had “shot his bolt” as far as this year’s work was concerned,
and it was also most important that Morshead should have a doctor with
him. Strutt, too, was very much overdone, and it was time for him to
return. Norton was strained and tired, and Geoffrey’s toes, though not
so bad as Morshead’s, required that he should quickly go down to a
warmer climate. We therefore made up two convoys, which were to start
together from the Base Camp. Longstaff, Strutt, and Morshead to go with
the sardar Gyaljen direct to Darjeeling, travelling viâ Khamba Dzong,
and from Khamba Dzong directly South to Lachen and Gangtok and
Darjeeling by the shorter and quicker route. This would bring them quite
a week sooner to Darjeeling than the route by which we entered Tibet. It
was most important that Morshead should be got back as quickly as
possible; in fact, we were all very nervous about his condition, and we
were afraid that it might be necessary for some operation to be carried
out actually on the march.

It had always been our idea that as soon as we had finished with our
summer attack on Everest, the whole Expedition should go into the Kharta
Valley, where Colonel Howard-Bury in 1921 made his camps, and there
recover from our labours. The Kharta Valley is far lower than any other
district in this part of Tibet, lying between 11,000 and 12,000 feet
above sea-level; there are also many comforts which do not exist in
other parts. There is good cultivation, trees and grass to a certain
extent, and even some vegetables are obtainable. It is altogether a
charming spot—very charming compared with any other country we were
likely to see. The road was very high for sick men, as it led over the
Doya La, which is only 3 feet under 17,000 feet, but having once got
there, they would be in comfort compared with the Rongbuk Glacier.

Having decided on sending off this large convoy of invalids and
semi-invalids, we then began to organise our third attempt on Everest,
but so doubtful was the weather that the party was organised for two
complete purposes. It was fully provided with porters, far more than
would in the ordinary way be necessary for an attempt on the mountain
itself, considering that the camps were all fully provisioned. We had
brought every single man off the glacier after the last attempt in order
to give them all a complete rest. Every one had now had a long rest,
with the exception of Finch, who had only had five days. He, however,
was very keen to join the party.

The second rôle of this party was to evacuate as many camps as possible,
according to the condition of the weather, and it was carefully
explained to them that if in their opinion the weather was such as to
preclude an attempt on the mountain, they were to use the greatest
possible care and run no undue risks. It was organised as follows: The
climbing party to consist of Finch, Mallory, and Somervell; the
backing-up party, Crawford and Wakefield, to remain at Camp III; and
Morris, in whose charge the whole of the transport arrangements were,
was to take charge of the evacuation of camps either after the attempt
had been made, or if no attempt was made, immediately. Such was the
condition of the weather that I had no very great hope that even the
Chang La camp could be evacuated, but it was most necessary to recover
all stores left at the great depôt at Camp III. This was of the utmost
importance, as not only was the oxygen apparatus there, but also a great
number of surplus stores—stores which we should be in need of. We had,
of course, rationed these camps with a view to staying there probably a
fortnight longer, but this year the monsoon had evidently advanced at
least ten days earlier than usual. That, however, we could not foresee,
nor could we foresee the very great severity of the 1922 monsoon of the
Eastern Himalaya. This we only heard about on our return to India later
on. It was a curious thing that the Rongbuk Lama had sent up to
congratulate the porters, and ourselves also, on having come back safely
from the earlier attempts, but he warned the porters to leave the
mountain alone, as he had had a vision of an accident.

On June 3 the great convoy set off and spent the night at Camp I. On
June 4 we were rather overwhelmed to see Finch staggering into camp. He
was very much overdone, and had by no means recovered from his terrific
exertions on the mountain. It was quite evident that he was finished for
this year, and he was lucky to be just in time to join the detachment
returning to India direct. It was a very great loss to the party. Not
only would he have been of special assistance as the oxygen expert, but
his experience and knowledge of snow and ice under the conditions then
prevailing would have been of the greatest advantage to the party.

The weather now had completely broken. It was snowing hard; even at our
Base Camp we had 2 inches of snow; the whole of the mountains were a
complete smother of snow. Notwithstanding this, and, under the
conditions, quite rightly, the convoy pushed on to Camp III. On arrival
at Camp III the weather cleared. The wind temporarily went round to the
West, and one perfect day of rest and sunshine was enjoyed.

Morris all this time was on the line of communication. He had the whole
of the service of evacuation to arrange, and was laying out his convoys
of Tibetan coolies and others with that point of view in his mind. It
was lucky he did so. The great foe, generally speaking, on Everest
during the dry period is the horrible West wind, but now the monsoon had
to all intents and purposes arrived. The West wind now was our one and
only friend. If it would again blow for a short period, the mountain
would probably return temporarily to a fairly safe condition. The South
wind is a warm and wet, though fairly strong, current, but the result of
even a short visit from it absolutely ruins the mountain-side. However,
at Camp III they enjoyed one full day of sunshine, followed by a very
low temperature (12° below zero) the following night, and it was
considered, owing both to the strength of the sun and to the fact that
the West wind had temporarily got the better of the South wind, that the
mountain would in all probability be safely solidified so as to render
an attempt justifiable. Therefore on the morning of June 7 a start was
made to reach the North Col, with the object of spending a night there
and making an assault on the mountain the following day. It was also
proposed to carry up as much oxygen as possible to the greatest height
they could get the porters to go, and from that point only to use the
remaining oxygen to make a push over the summit. I think this was a
thoroughly sound proposition. They were all acclimatised, and it seems
to me that it is probably better, especially if there is any chance of a
shortage of oxygen, to use one’s acclimatisation to go as high as one
can without undue fatigue, and from thence on to use the oxygen. No
doubt it would be possible and of advantage, if the oxygen apparatus
should ever be improved, to use it for the whole of an ascent, say, from
20,000 feet or so, but against that comes the chance that, in case of
any cessation of the oxygen supply, the danger would be very much
greater.

The caravan consisted of Mallory, Somervell, and Crawford, who was going
with them as far as the North Col to assist them and to relieve them of
the hard labour of remaking the path up to that point. Mallory will
relate further on how at about one o’clock, when about half the journey
had been completed, the snow suddenly cracked across and gave way, and
the whole caravan was swept down the hillside, and seven porters killed.

On return to Camp III, a porter was despatched to take the news down to
the Base Camp, and arrived that same night at about nine o’clock, having
travelled at full speed—really a wonderful performance. There was
nothing to be done—that was quite evident—and all I could do was to
await the return of the party for a full account, sending news at the
same time to Morris to evacuate the camps at the greatest possible
speed. Mallory arrived by himself, very tired, and naturally very upset,
on Thursday, the 8th. Again was shown what a terrible enemy the great
Himalaya is. Risks and conditions which would appear justifiable in the
Alps can never be taken in the Himalaya. So great is the scale that far
greater time must be allowed for the restoration of safe conditions.
When once the condition of a mountain is spoiled, the greater size
requires more time for its readjustment. The odds against one are much
greater in the Himalaya than in the smaller ranges. Its sun is hotter;
its storms are worse; the distances are greater; everything is on an
exaggerated scale.

Mallory was followed next morning by Wakefield, Crawford, and Somervell,
who brought down with them a certain amount of the lighter equipment.
Morris was all this time working to salvage as much as he possibly could
from the different camps. We had a large number of Tibetans pushed up as
far as Camp II, and as many of our own porters as were available (not
very many, I am sorry to say, by now) working with Morris in the
evacuation of Camp III. In this work the cooks and orderlies also
joined.

It was perfectly evident by now that the monsoon had set in in full
force. On his return, Morris gave me a very vivid description of how,
even during the one day that he stayed up after the others had left at
Camp III, although the weather was fairly fine, the whole face of the
mountain sides began to change; how under the influence of the soft
South wind the mountains seemed to melt and disintegrate. Not only that,
but even the great teeth formed by the pressure of the collateral
glaciers, probably great séracs that spring out like the teeth of a huge
saw on the glacier, and which seemed solid enough to last for all time,
were visibly crumbling up, and some of them were even toppling over. The
great trough of black ice up the centre of the glacier which Strutt has
described had turned into a rushing torrent—and all this in an
incredibly short period of time. Snow also fell at intervals, and it was
quite apparent that when the monsoon settled down the whole of Camp III
would be under a great blanket of fresh snow. Under these conditions a
good deal of stuff, especially the supplies of grain, tzampa, and so on,
for our porters, had to be abandoned. As for Camps IV, V, and VI, there
was naturally no chance of rescuing anything from them. Thus was
occasioned a fairly large loss of outfit; nor was there any possibility
that any of it could have stood under any conditions more than a month’s
exposure to the weather. There was a considerable loss in the oxygen
apparatus, but Morris managed to bring down three full outfits in more
or less dilapidated condition.

On Morris’s return to the Base Camp, the party was completed. One of the
difficulties in having so large an outfit as ours was the difficulty of
obtaining transport when necessary. Therefore, as soon as we saw signs
of the monsoon, it was necessary to make arrangements for our return, as
at least fifteen days were required to collect the still large number of
animals required for our moving. These animals have to be searched for
all down the Dzakar Chu, collected, and brought up; nor when once
collected could they be kept waiting for very long, as the supply of
fodder in the upper valley was absolutely nil—fodder did not exist. When
we sent off the previous party they travelled as lightly as possible,
but even then the small number of animals which was required for their
transport had not been obtained with any great ease. Fortunately, John
Macdonald was with us and was free, and it was owing to his help (for he
speaks Tibetan as well as Nepali, and is thoroughly accustomed to deal
with the people) that the two parties of Strutt and Norton were able to
proceed with such little delay. It had required a full fifteen days to
collect enough animals to move the main body. I had arranged for a
latitude of one or two days, which meant that they should have spare
food up to that extent, but beyond that it would be quite impossible,
naturally, to make provision. Of course, as one of our secondary objects
we had hoped, if our party had not been exhausted, to have explored the
West Rongbuk and the great glens on the Western faces of Everest. And
besides this most interesting piece of exploration, of which really not
very much more than glimpses were obtained during 1921, there is the
prodigious and fascinating group of Cho Uyo and Gyachang Kang to be
explored.

  WATCHING THE DANCERS, RONGBUK MONASTERY.
]

As I before pointed out, of course, not only was our major work and the
whole object of the Expedition the tackling of the great mountain, but
also it was a race against the weather, so we could let nothing
interfere with our main object. It was quite clear now, as we were
situated, that an exploration of the West Rongbuk was entirely beyond
consideration. Not only was the whole party fairly played out, but to
get up enthusiasm in a new direction after what we had gone through was
pretty nearly out of the question. Somervell, the absolutely untireable,
had very strong yearnings in that direction, but it would have been
nothing more than a scramble in the dark if he had gone. The weather was
broken and was getting worse and worse every day. Snow fell occasionally
even at our camp. Further up everything was getting smothered. Everest,
when we had glimpses of it, was a smother of snow from head to foot, and
no one who saw it in these days could ever imagine that it was a rock
peak.

I am afraid also that most of us had only one real idea at the time, and
that was to get out of the Rongbuk Valley. However, during our wait for
the transport the annual fête of the Rongbuk Monastery occurred. There
was a great pilgrimage to the monastery to receive the blessing of the
Lama and to witness the annual dances. Most of our party went down to
see dances, and Noel especially to cinematograph the whole ceremony,
dances as well as religious ceremonies. I have not done justice up to
this point to Noel’s work. He was quite indefatigable from the start,
and had lost no opportunity during our march up, not only of taking many
pictures of the country and Expedition, both with his ordinary camera
and with his cinema camera, but of studying Tibetan life as well. He had
in the Rongbuk Valley pitched his developing tents near the only
available clear water at the moment, and had there been untiring in
developing his cinema photographs. He had made two expeditions to the
head of the East Rongbuk Glacier, and had even taken his cameras and his
cinema outfit on to the North Col itself where he remained for no less
than four days—a most remarkable _tour de force_. On the last occasion
he had accompanied the evacuation party, and had been actually taking
pictures of the start of the last attempt to get to the North Col and to
climb Everest. Of course, his performances with the camera are entirely
unprecedented. The amount of work he carried out was prodigious, and the
enthusiasm he displayed under the most trying conditions of wind and
weather was quite wonderful. We now feel that we can produce a real
representation of our life and of life in Tibet in a manner in which it
has never hitherto been brought before people’s eyes, and this gives a
reality to the whole Expedition which I hope will make all those who are
interested in mountain exploration understand the wonderful performances
and the great difficulties under which the climbing members of this
Expedition and the transport officers laboured.

After the news of the accident had been received, we immediately got in
touch with the great Lama of Rongbuk, who was intensely sympathetic and
kind over the whole matter. It is very strange to have to deal with
these curious people; they are an extraordinary mixture of superstition
and nice feelings. Buddhist services were held in the monasteries for
the men who had been lost and for the families; and all the porters, and
especially the relations of the men who were killed, were received and
specially blessed by the Rongbuk Lama himself. All the Nepalese tribes
who live high up in the mountains, and also the Sherpa Bhotias, have a
belief that when a man slips on the mountains and is killed, or when he
slips on a cliff above a river and falls into it and is drowned, that
this is a sacrifice to God, and especially to the god of the actual
mountain or river. They further believe that anyone whosoever who
happens to be on the same cliff or on the same mountain at the same
place, exactly at the same time of year, on the same date and at the
same hour, will also immediately slip and be killed.

I also received during our return a very kind letter from the Maharajah
of Nepal condoling with us on the loss of our porters. He writes as
follows:—

“Personally, and as a member of the Royal Geographical Society, I share
with you the grief that must have resulted from the frustration of the
keen hope entertained by you and the party. My heartiest sympathies go
to you and to the families of the seven men who lost their lives in the
attempt. This puts in my mind the curious belief that persistently
prevails with the people here, and which I came to learn so long ago in
the time of our mutual friend, Colonel Manners Smith, when the question
of giving permission for the project of climbing the King of Heights
through Nepal was brought by you and discussed in a council of
Bharadars. It is to the effect that the height is the abode of the god
and goddess Shiva and Parvati, and any attempt to invade the privacy of
it would be a sacrilege fraught with disastrous consequences to this
Hindu country and its people, and this belief or superstition, as one
may choose to call it, is so firm and strong that people attribute the
present tragic occurrence to the divine wrath which on no occasion they
would draw on their heads by their actions.”

This, I must point out, is, of course, the Southern and Hindu people’s
tradition, and did not in the same way affect all the porters whom we
employed, as they were Buddhists by faith. The whole of our people,
however, took the view common to both and dismissed their troubles very
rapidly and very lightly, holding simply that the men’s time had come,
and so there was no more to be said about it. If their time had not
come, they would not have died. It had come, and they had died and that
was all. What need to say any more? As a matter of fact, this
philosophic way of looking on everything also allowed them to say that
they were perfectly ready to come back for the next attempt, because if
it was written that they should die on Everest, they should die on
Everest; if it was written that they would not die on Everest, they
would not, and that was all there was to be said in the matter.

                          THE RETURN BY KHARTA

On June 14 we were cheered with the news that our transport was
approaching, and I think a good many sighs of relief were uttered. We
had quite made up our minds to cross over into the Kharta Valley, and,
having had a sufficiency of rest, to explore the Kama Chu more
completely than had been done in 1921, and, if possible, to examine the
whole gorge of the Arun where it breaks through the great Himalayan
range; but our first idea was to get down to a decent elevation where
some rest could be obtained, where we could get adequate bathing and
washing for our clothes and get everybody into a fairly respectable
condition again. Living continuously for many weeks at elevations never
below, and generally far above, 16,500 feet, does not tend to general
cleanliness, and it also, after a time, I think, tends to general
degeneration. At the same time, we were by no means convinced that at
medium elevations there is any particular loss of physical powers or
that acclimatisation takes long to complete. I found, personally, that I
was getting better and better when exerting myself at the medium heights
to which I went. I found, during the march that was in front of us, that
I could walk at elevations of over 16,000 feet very much more easily
than when I first arrived at the Rongbuk Glacier, and this certainly
does not show that one had been degenerating physically. I think,
really, that the strain was more a mental one; and this remark probably
also applies to every member of our party. At the same time, it was most
exhilarating to think that one was descending to a low altitude.

We made our first march back to the Rongbuk Glacier, and that evening we
were left in peace—by the Lamas, that is to say, but not by the wind,
which howled consistently, bringing with it thin driving sleet.

  THE CHIEF LAMA, RONGBUK MONASTERY.
]

On the following morning we arranged that we should all meet the Rongbuk
Lama; and so, having got our kit packed, we left it to be loaded by the
Tibetans, and the whole party, including all our followers, porters, all
the Gurkhas who were with us (with the exception of Tejbir, who had gone
on in advance with Geoffrey Bruce and Norton), went up to the monastery.
There we waited in the courtyard until the Lama himself descended from
his inner sanctuary in state. Tea was first served in the usual way,
ordinary tea being provided, I am glad to say, for the others and myself
by special arrangement of the interpreter. I think Noel, however, a man
of infinite pluck, took down a bowl or two of true Tibetan tea. The Lama
made special inquiries after the Expedition, and then began the
blessing. He offered us his very best wishes, and presented me, through
Paul, with a special mark of his goodwill, a little image of one of the
Taras, or queens, of Tibetan mythology. My special one was the Green
Tara, who takes precedence among all ladies. This was a mark of very
great favour. Paul was also presented with another little mark and many
little packets of medicine, which were to preserve him from all and
every description of the illnesses which afflict and worry humanity. The
Buddhistic side of Paul came up on this occasion, and he received his
blessings and the medicines in the most humble and reverent spirit. The
Gurkhas all went up too, and were suitably blessed, being even more
humble in their aspect than the very much overcome and reverent porters
themselves; they could hardly be induced to approach his Holiness.
However, we all parted on the most friendly terms, and left our own good
wishes, for what they were worth, with the old gentleman.

By three o’clock in the afternoon we arrived at Chodzong. But what a
difference there was in our march! The few days of the monsoon and the
small amount of rain which had fallen, even this little way back from
the mountains, had changed the whole aspect of the valley. Flowers had
begun to show, and in places there was even a little green grass. At
Chodzong there was quite a considerable amount of grass, and we enjoyed
here what was more pleasant than anything we had experienced for a long
time—a shower of rain. We had almost forgotten the existence of rain,
and the relief from the very trying dryness of the Tibetan atmosphere,
which parches one’s skin as if one was in the Sahara, was immense.
Still, at Chodzong it was cold at night and the temperature below
freezing-point. Here we found all our ponies and their saises returned
from taking Norton and Geoffrey Bruce over to the Kharta Valley. Also
the gigantic D(r)ubla and his small Gyamda very fit and well.

This camp at Chodzong was a place particularly impressed on our minds on
our way up, as we had there the very coldest breakfast that we anywhere
indulged in. The wind was blowing half a hurricane, and the temperature
nearly at zero, while our breakfast was actually being brought to us in
the morning, and the misery and discomfort of that particular
temperature was in great contrast to the delightful weather we were now
experiencing. From this place we diverted a large convoy of our spare
baggage to Shekar, to await our return after we had finished our further
wanderings in Kharta. The following day took us up the Rebu Valley. It
was a fairly long and very windy march, but the climate was so greatly
improved that, generally speaking, it was very enjoyable, and again we
camped in a very pleasant spot in grassy fields—such a change from our
late life. Not only that, but in the evening, as the people up here had
no prejudices, we caught a sufficient number of snow-trout, really a
barbel, to make a dish. My own servant, Kehar Sing, the cook, always had
a reputation for being, and always was, a first-rate poacher. At any
form of netting or tickling trout he was a great hand. However, he was
completely eclipsed later on by one of Macdonald’s servants, to whom I
am quite certain no fish-poacher that ever was could have given a
wrinkle. He was also quite a good hand at catching fish with
rod-and-line. The Gurkhas, as usual, took a hand; they are immensely
fond of fish, and their methods are primitive. Tejbir, who came along
with us, was nearly recovered from his exertions with Finch and
Geoffrey; he had lost a good deal of skin from seven or eight fingers
and a large patch off his foot, but though his frostbites were many,
they were slight. He was really suffering from being rather overdone,
and took at least a fortnight to recover.

The next day’s was an interesting march, though very long, and tiring
for the animals. Our way led over the high ridge which divides the
Dzakar Chu country from the Kharta district. Although the rise was not
very great from our camp at approximately 13,500 feet, still the pass
itself was just 17,000 feet, or rather, to be absolutely accurate, just
3 feet under. The way led for several miles, hardly rising at all, up a
grassy valley, and then over the strangest and wildest and most
completely barren of hillsides. From here, no doubt, we should have a
fine view of the great supporters of Everest, but clouds completely
obliterated the mountains. We had the ordinary balmy Tibetan breezes
through the snows, but modified to what they would have been quite a
short time before.

The descent from the Doya La was very fine indeed; the colour wonderful,
and very soon giving promise of a greener land. The first 300 feet on
the Kharta side is down a very steep rocky track, and I was told
afterwards by Geoffrey Bruce that he never dismounted, and that the
wonderful Gyamda had carried him down without making a mistake. On that
day we all of us well overtopped 17,000 feet. There was a little joke
about Crawford, who was not very tall, but who certainly did not deserve
his nickname of the “Two-and-a-half-footer” given him by the porters. It
was a joke among them afterwards, when told the height of the pass, that
he had just missed the 17,000 feet by 6 inches.

It was a very long descent, but into a valley rapidly changing from bare
hillsides to grassy banks. Never was there a more welcome change, and
here we came into a real profusion of Alpine flowers. It was a full
20-mile march to our halting-place at Trateza, and as we got down where
the valley narrowed we passed the very picturesquely situated village of
Teng. Everybody was delighted with the change. Our camp was pitched near
the village on quite thick and beautiful green grass, and the hillsides
were green and covered with bushes. We were absolutely happy and
intensely relieved, and pleased with our surroundings. The ponies and
animals simply pounced on the green grass, and were even more happy than
their masters.

The following morning we all started off in wonderful spirits, shared in
by the yaks, several of whom took it into their heads to run amuck, and
we had a first-class scene of confusion in the rather tight camp before
we could get matters straightened out. One yak especially was peculiarly
gay here, and took to the hillside after throwing his load on three or
four occasions. We had, in fact, a real hunt after him; everybody joined
in the fun, and I am afraid on one or two occasions some of the more
light-hearted of the porters kept him going on purpose. This march,
however, was even pleasanter than the one before. The part we were
travelling down grew richer and richer; the hillsides were thickly
clothed in cedar trees and in shrubs of many kinds; the valley itself,
wherever possible, was cultivated. We passed on our way two or three
small villages extremely well situated, and finally debouched into an
open valley full of fields and cultivation, where we joined the main
Arun Valley and the district of Kharta proper. Kharta is a fairly large
district, and not a village. The largest settlement is called Kharta
Shika, and it is there that the Dzongpen has his abode. The whole of
this district, also, is under the Dzongpen of Shekar Dzong, and the
Dzongpen of Shika apparently has not as full powers by any means as the
Dzongpen at Shekar Dzong. However, for all that, he appears to be quite
a little autocrat.

It was quite delightful riding out into the main valley, and there also
we were cheered by meeting Geoffrey Bruce and John Macdonald, who had
come out some miles from where our camp had been established at the
small village of Teng. We passed, also, the old gentleman, known, I
think, in the last year’s Expedition as “the Havildar,” but whom
Geoffrey and Norton had promptly christened Father William. He was a
rather officious, but at the same time most helpful, old man, and on our
way back he asked us to come in for a meal into his very attractive
garden; but as it was only a mile or so from Teng, where our camp was
pitched, we did not think it was worth while then, knowing we should see
a good deal more of the old gentleman. He brought us plenty of what we
were yearning for—fresh green vegetables, the very greatest boon.

We found our invalids very nearly recovered; Norton’s feet, however,
were tender, and Geoffrey’s toes still in a distinctly unpleasant
condition. It was wonderful, nevertheless, how well both were able to
get about with the help of plenty of socks. Our camp was pitched in
fields at a height of about 10,800 feet, and below us, at about the
distance of 3 miles, we could see the entrance to the great Arun Gorge
where it cuts through the Himalaya. On the opposite side of the Arun the
two mountains, old friends of ours that we had noticed on our way up,
looked down on the camp. On the whole of my way down I was struck with
the resemblance between these valleys and parts of Lahoul and Kailang.
They were less rich, however, and the forests of pencil cedar not so
fine, but still the whole character of the country and of the hillsides
was very much the same.

  TIBETAN DANCING MAN.
]

  TIBETAN DANCING WOMAN.
]

Above the camp at Teng was a very well situated monastery, which Noel
afterwards photographed. Soon after our arrival during the afternoon,
the Dzongpen from Kharta Shika arrived to meet us. He was reported at
first to be very suspicious of the party, and such, indeed, appeared to
be the case. However, after a long conversation, and having presented
him with pictures of the Dalai Lama and of the Tashilumpo Lama, as well
as with the ubiquitous Homburg hat, he became much more confidential,
and we finished up very good friends. He also told us that on the
following day he would bring down some Tibetan dancers and acrobats to
give us a performance.

The rapidity with which the whole party seemed to recover at Kharta was
perfectly wonderful. Everybody was in first-class health and spirits,