Annapurna (21 page)

With my two Sherpas I traversed across and reached the edge of the blocked-in crevasse. Well belayed, I ventured on it – my first steps were very cautious. I drove my ice-axe in right up to the hilt and found that the snow was well consolidated. I went forward now with more confidence and made a little platform on which I turned round, taking a few steps in each direction, then I started dancing about and finally jumping. It held! Once the hard crust had been removed, here and there, and the surface levelled, it would make an ideal site – there would easily be room for two tents facing each other. Without losing a minute the two Sherpas pitched the tents and prepared tea. That was all for the day: we had achieved our object of establishing a permanent Camp III. The others would not be able to see the site from below, and no doubt they would be wondering where we had got to.

While the Sherpas fixed up our bivouac I pushed on a little towards the central couloir at the far end of our crevasse, as we should have to go that way next day. For I had made up my mind that we must endeavour to establish Camp IV the following day. I had plenty of time to look at the surrounding peaks, to observe the remarkable Cauliflower Ridge with its bizarre formation, to admire the distant Dhaulagiri, and to let my mind and my eyes wander over the desert land of Tibet, hardly more than a dozen miles away from us.

A cold and violent wind got up, but no disquieting clouds appeared – it would be fine tomorrow for sure. With this optimistic prophecy I went inside the tent – a nice tent all to myself, with two air mattresses and two sleeping-bags. I was waited upon like a king by the Sherpas. They brought me tea and then I dealt round aspirin and sleeping-tablets and the whole chemist’s shop that Oudot insisted on. It was not long before I dozed off.

In the morning we had to be very brisk. I took down one tent, packed up as much food as possible, shared out the loads and, after a quick breakfast, we started. I took the lead and made a détour towards the central couloir. We skirted along the foot of the serac that protected our camp and climbed up a sort of gable of bare ice which the Sherpas did not much appreciate. It was impossible to go any higher and we had to resign ourselves to crossing the
couloir
. It was, however, relatively narrow at this height, as if it had been squeezed in by the batteries of seracs on either side. It could scarcely have been more than a couple of hundred feet across. If one of us went over quickly while the others kept a look-out, they would be able to give warning of any avalanche; and in my opinion it was reasonably safe. Leaving Dawathondup on the left bank, I began to cross. The slope was exceedingly steep, falling straight down beneath my feet, and we could not get a grip on the snow, which had been hardened by successive avalanches. First, with the blade of my axe I had to cut little steps for the points of my crampons; then when I moved I stuck the pick into the ice above me as an anchor, and held on to it with both hands. I went as quickly as I could; a glance up every now and then had its uses, if only for one’s morale. Looking down, on the other hand, was not to be recommended, for the sight of those colossal precipices might have shaken even the most confident climber. The traverse was quickly completed and I allowed myself a few moments to get my breath before bringing over the Sherpas.

‘Dawathondup!’

‘Yes, sir,’ he replied in a voice which sounded rather queer. He smelt danger, the old fox! Without wasting a minute and in spite of his load he came over like a whirlwind to reach safety. Angdawa followed, but he was younger and did not move so well, and took much longer than Dawathondup, Whew! Here we were, safe and sound across that terrible couloir! From my present position I could see just what had been threatening us. The couloir ran up for about 1000 feet to merge into a very steep snow slope – a gathering-ground for avalanches. Above was the rock wall and then the Sickle glacier from which a few dozen tons of superfluous ice split off from time to time.

Our situation was critical; before me stretched a broken-up area lying at a very steep angle. From here onwards the route, as planned from Camp I, consisted in slanting up to the left and then back to the right as far as the top of the central couloir at the point where the great bergschrund, separating this couloir from the steep snow slope above, was blocked with snow and where, in all probability, there would be a way across. But straight ahead of me were enormous seracs. I could either skirt round them by descending slightly and then traversing to the left, or else I could climb up
the
true right-hand edge of the couloir and reach the upper slopes that way. I chose the latter alternative, since there was practically no danger of avalanches at this early hour. Moreover, by going rapidly up on the extreme edge of the couloir we gained the necessary hundred yards or so. We then bore over to the left and once more sank into deep snow with which we were unfortunately all too familiar. But at any rate we were out of danger.

After a few minutes’ rest we started off again; we had to keep traversing to the left and gaining height at every possible opportunity. But the slope was steep and I had only limited confidence in my Sherpas’ balance. They were not accustomed to such difficult ground and if one of them had slipped we should all three have shot out into space; so I kept a watchful eye on them. The first traverses were accomplished without incident. I did my best to pack the snow at each step in order to make a safe and comfortable track. One stretch over bare ice needed particular attention. Three blows of the axe and the ice chips flew – there was just room for two points of my crampons and on I went. But Dawathondup thought differently and began to enlarge the steps behind me, but desperately slowly. At last he arrived – I took his rope and belayed Angdawa who in his turn started off. He did not seem very confident – he lifted his left foot, failed to fix his crampon points properly into the ice, the toe of his boot slipped, he banged his knee, lost his balance, and there he was sliding away down the slope. Luckily I had been watching him like a hawk: the loop of rope tightened round my axe, the rope stretched taut and then held fast. Angdawa got off with a fright – and in future he would have confidence in the rope. We continued over this soft snow lying on hard ice. The setting was wonderful – everything was a transparent blue, even our shadows, and there was not a cloud in the sky. On our left was the Sickle Ridge, quite close, apparently almost within reach, dripping bare ice and shining in the sun: a real Diamond Mountain.

My two Sherpas were exhausted and Dawathondup was very near to regretting those escapades which had made it necessary for him to come up such a height in so short a time. (From Choya, about 8000 feet, he had come up without a day’s break to 23,000 feet.) We had some difficulty in climbing over a serac by a tricky piece of step-cutting during which I had my turn of being very
frightened
: after having cut three good steps, and a good hold for the left hand, I suddenly heard a dull sound; the ice made a cracking noise as if the whole serac were about to collapse. I held my breath but nothing happened: no doubt it was the ice settling deep down. So I was able to go on. After half an hour of cutting I came out on to the upper slopes and could distinctly see the great bergschrund running horizontally right round the sloping plateau, and the enormous wall of the Sickle.

‘It’s your turn, Dawathondup.’

I pointed out the line we had to follow, which was now rather easier. There was a fairly steep snow slope, then a hundred yards or so of moderately steep ice up which we should have to cut steps, another snow slope, and then we should be at the bergschrund.

This time I decided to take it easy; I let the others go ahead to do the work and took my place at the end of the rope. But the Sherpas lacked our technique and were very slow. Dawathondup cut too many steps too close together and much too big. All the same, we gained ground. Soon we came to the gaping bergschrund, very deep, but so long that the depth was not noticeable. There was no break in it for more than half a mile, except at the cone of avalanche snow. Certainly the place was not safe, but we had no option but to pass that way.

I took the lead again, climbed up the rib leading to the avalanche cone and began to go straight up it. Dawathondup belayed me from below and this was no sinecure – I slipped down as fast as I climbed up. The snow was soft and my worst fear was that it might collapse just where it bridged the bergschrund. When I reached the top of the avalanche cone I stretched out my axe as high up as I could to drive it into the slope. There was a dull sound – ice! I swung my axe and it stuck in – I was saved; with some difficulty I pulled myself up on it out of the snow which was sliding down everywhere and swishing between my legs. I tried to get my crampons on to the wall and just managed it; quickly I cut a few steps and at last reached an area which was less trying to the nerves. It was now the Sherpas’ turn and I held them firmly. They had no principles to prevent them from pulling on the rope and they did so vigorously – my arms were nearly pulled out of their sockets. My little party was now assembled on the upper plateau. A great wave of content flowed through me: the technical difficulties
seemed
to be over. We did not know whether we should find good snow higher up, or an ice slope, but at any rate there would be no walls or couloirs.

‘Let’s get on. We must really put our backs into it.’ This time we went right over to the left towards the Sickle, plainly visible from here. The glacier, which lay on a bed of reddish coloured rocks, stopped dead at the edge of space, and the great cliff, a huge drop of nearly 700 feet, plunged vertically down towards us – a most impressive sight.

Fortunately the handle of the Sickle offered a more accessible route and it was there we should have to go. Once again, ploughing through snow up to our waists and stopping at every step to get our breath, we approached the wall and after an hour of this exhausting going got to the foot of it. We had gone a long way since morning, and debated whether it was wise to increase still further the distance between Camps III and IV. I thought not; we should have to be capable of doing this lap in one day without undue fatigue, and I decided to establish the camp where we were. There was hardly any suitable site; the whole place seemed to be swept by avalanches. There was just one small serac which would give protection to a few square yards below. It made an ideal wind screen and our tents would be completely sheltered from avalanches. The three of us began to cut away at the ice with a will to make a comfortable platform. Soon the camp was in order – tent pitched and food stored away – and we could allow ourselves a good rest.

The Sherpas had frightful headaches. I looked at the altimeter which showed 24,600 feet, and thought the figure higher than it should have been. Aneroid barometers tend to exaggerate height and, reckoning from the summit, and the position of the other camps, I judged that we were at about 23,500 feet. I gave Dawathondup and Angdawa aspirin, and offered them some food, but they made it clear that they could not touch a thing. I was forced to consume a tin of tunny-fish before their eyes and the very sight of it made them feel sick. Looking all about me, I felt an exhilarating sense of domination, and complete confidence in our victory. I was almost at the height of the Great Barrier. Beneath me I could see the Cauliflower Ridge which had taunted us for so long, and then far down, right at the bottom, the plateau with Camp II where we
could
not even pick out the black dots of the other members of the Expedition.

‘Off we go.’ My two Sherpas needed no pressing – for once they were ready immediately. We shut the tent carefully, hoping we should find it again in good order in spite of the cascades of snow, and then plunged downwards. The return journey was made without incident and incomparably faster than our climb up. We descended the walls face inwards and the Sherpas went very well, safeguarded by myself. About an hour and a half later we reached Camp III, and found our friends in occupation.

I was delighted to be able to tell them that Annapurna was practically in the bag! The quick descent had rather gone to my head. The four others were lying in the two tents and hardly bothered to get up when we arrived. What could be the matter?

Couzy and Schatz, coming up the day before from Camp I, had picked up Lachenal and Rébuffat on their way. After a night’s rest at Camp II they had left in the morning and come up here. As usual the snow had held them up a lot. Couzy, still insufficiently acclimatized, suffered from bad headaches, Schatz was morose, Rébuffat felt he was not fit to go any further, and Lachenal had no appetite. I vainly tried to rouse them, telling them that we were practically there. I could see they had not yet found their form again, but I judged that the night’s rest would do them all good. As for myself, there was no point in my waiting any longer. There was no room for me, and anyway we should have to make another carry. I hoped that, with Terray’s convoy, we should be able to bring up everything necessary to equip the route, and that the next journey up would lead to victory.

But time was getting on – I was dismayed to see the days go by: it was already May 28th and the monsoon, according to the latest reports, would reach us about June 5th. That gave us barely a week to bring everything to a successful conclusion.

This time the Sherpas went much quicker; they had greatly benefited by the lessons learned during the last few days and their technique had improved. At the overhanging pitch they grasped the fixed line without hesitation, let themselves slide down rapidly, and upon arrival gave an easy wave of the hand to indicate that the rope was free for the next man. My job was made much easier and
I
was well pleased to see the plateau on which Camp II stood getting quickly closer.

But for some time Dawathondup had been complaining of a strange pain which he found it difficult to locate precisely. He indicated the whole of that part of his anatomy between his chest and thighs. Was it excess of methylated spirits, altitude, or simply a kind of prudent precaution in view of the operations ahead, which looked like horribly hard work? He groaned continuously and Angdawa had to support him, but it was impossible to make out what this sly old fellow was about. As we reached camp, snow began to fall. We were welcomed by shouts from Terray.