Expedition Facing Rugged Climb On Giant Tamserku

Press, Volume CIII, Issue 30592, 7 November 1964, Page 17

Expedition Facing Rugged Climb On Giant Tamserku

IBy SIR

EDMUND HILLARY]

LUKLA BASE CAMP. From a camp at 9500 feet in the Sherpa village of Benkar, only 18 miles from the Tibetan border, we dragged ourselves out of our tents at 5 o’clock recently into a clear and beautiful morning. With only tea and biscuits to sustain us, we started climbing the steep walls of the Dudh Kosi valley, clinging to the stunted shrubs and pine trees and zigzagging around vertical rock bluffs.

The air was crisp, but perspiration was soon rolling down our faces as the energetic young mountaineers in the party set a torrid pace. At 8 a.m. we threaded our way across a tumbling mountain waterfall and emerged on to a small grassy meadow at 12,000 feet. The views were almost unbelievable. Far below, the thin thread of the Dudh Kosi river twined through steep bushclad gorges, toward the distant plains of India. At the head of the valley loomed the mighty bulk of Mount Everest—liberally plastered with the late monsoon snows—and, for once, minus its habitual summit plume of windblown snow. Filling the horizon to the east were the vast, unclimbed precipices of Mount Tamserku (21,730 feet)—and Tamserku was mainly what we had come to see. With bino-

culars we scanned the mountain and assessed the chances of climbing it. We had now looked at the mountain from every side and generally agreed that the easiest route appeared to be the south ridge—on our right. But the term “easy” is only relative. The south ridge is a terrifying mixture of mountaineering problems which skill and technique our party can produce. Lolling in the warm sun, we ate a hearty breakfast with exercise-sharpened appetites. And the debate rolled on. Where should the first camp be? And the second? Was there anywhere on that narrow ridge to put a third? Steep Drop From our viewpoint there seemed only one feasible route: 2000 feet up a steep snow gully scoured with deep avalanche grooves (could the dangerous places be turned on the icefluting to the left?) and out on to a little snow saddle on the south ridge which seemed to offer room for a small camp. Then over a sharp subsidiary snow peak with a depressing loss of height on the north side (that drop looks very steep—will we have to put fixed ropes all the way down?). Next came the worstlooking section of the climb: several hundred feet of almost vertical rock capped with a huge ice bulge, bleeding off in frequent avalanches to the west, and terrifyingly steep and seamed with deep crevasses. If the top of this could be reached there was certainly ample room for a camp—but could it be reached?

And then another giant step of vertical rock and ice leading to the final summit

ridge—half a mile of waferthin snow perched uneasily at over 21,000 feet; a fretwork of giant overhanging cornices, ice towers and ragged gaps. 34 Porters Yesterday (October 17) Jim Wilson, my deputy-leader, and Peter Farrell, a formidable technical climber, established the first Tamserku camp at 16,600 feet in a pleasant hollow in the glacier moraine. Today the main lift of supplies has set off to join them. Thirty-four Sherpa porters, under the leadership of Sirdar Mingmatsering, are carrying 30 days’ supplies of food, tentage and bedding. There are 4500 feet of nylon rope, 150 pitons (steel spikes to drive into cracks in the rocks

or into the ice), warm down clothing and windproof outer garments. There are small radios for communication between camps; oxygen for use in cases of sickness; special boots for protection against frostbite; and warm sleeping bags for a comfortable rest. The ultimate success or failure will depend on the mountain, the weather, and in particular the men themselves. There are 13 men in the climbing party: Wilson, Farrell, Lyn Crawford, Don Mackay, John McKinnon and Dick Stewart; and seven strong and experienced Sherpas under the leadership of Mingmatsering. Poetic The last two weeks have been busy and useful ones for the expedition. We have completed the new elementary school in the Sherpa village of Junbesi. Jim Fisher, who has just spent two years with the American Peace Corps in Nepal, devoted his considerable grasp of the Nepali language and his experience of teaching in Nepali schools to signing on pupils in the Junbesi area and starting the teaching programme. The teacher we have recruited is a man of substantial experience and considerable character. He is an accomplished poet in his own language and enjoys nothing better than rolling off a hundred stanzas about some worthy topic. With Jim Fisher’s help he is firmly established in his new post and each day teaches his 70 pupils the rudiments of reading, writing and arithmetic. Jim Fisher has rejoined us at Lukla and in the next few days will carry out a similar task in Chaunrikarka. The school there is almost ready, thanks to a last-minute rush by the climbers before they left for Tamserku.

Many Ailments The doctor of every Himalayan expedition expects to devote some of his energy to treating the ailments of the local people. In our case we are spending much more time in Sherpa villages, so the opportunities for medical work are correspondingly greater. Each morning, Sherpas gather outside the tent of our expedition doctor and he has to deal with a wide variety of problems. Infected cuts are very common; so are eye troubles—in particular conjunctivitis, possibly resulting from the smoky atmosphere in Sherpa houses: and ‘here are many cases of I 'onchitis and gastro-intestinal infection. We have seen some pathetic cases. A young man who climbed high on Everest last year with the Americans has recently developed an eye infection and is almost blinded with scar tissue. There is nothing we can do about some of the advanced cases. But we have had many successes. A desperate case of a difficult delivery of a stillborn child had our doctor living for two days and two nights in a simple Sherpa

home, using all his drugs and knowledge to save the woman’s life. The gratitude of the husband and children was more than enough reward. Toughest Task We have been fortunate with our progress to date. Although the weather has at times been unseasonably bad, it has never completely restricted our activities. But time is passing quickly and we still have much ahead of us: an airfield to complete, two bridges to build, another school to construct, a water tank to build—and, of course, Tamserku to climb. Tamserku will be the toughest, and our thoughts will not be far from the mountain at any time over the next four weeks.

This is the second of a series of articles by Sir Edmund Hillary on his Himalayan Schoolhouse Expedition.