ATTEMPT TO ASCEND NANGA PARBAT

On Nanga Parbat from Upper Camp.

A week before this, on the same day that Bruce had left us, our cook and our head shikari, together with some coolies, had been sent to fetch up from the Bunar valley any provisions they could find. We knew that if they had travelled with ordinary speed, five days was ample for the whole journey, and they were therefore two days overdue. Moreover, in our camp provisions for only one day remained. Our position was annoying. Of course, as the weather had turned fine again we wished to carry more necessaries up to the camp at the head of the Diamirai glacier, just under Nanga Parbat; but even where we were at the base camp, it was two days' hard travelling from the nearest village and food. This position of affairs produced a long discussion, and finally we agreed that we ourselves must go down to Bunar after the dilatory servants. It was most provoking, but there was no help for it. Leaving the camp in charge of the goat-herd from the Lubar nullah, and our water-carrier or bhisti, Mummery and I started off with Lor Khan and some servants for Bunar. The further we went the worse the path became, but by skirting upwards along the hill-side, on the left of the valley, we soon left the Diamirai glacier far below us. About this point we met our head shikari, who had come on in front of the remainder of the party from Bunar—at least he said so, but we could get very little accurate information out of him. In fact, as we afterwards discovered, he had stopped at the first village he had come to, and remained there doing nothing, or at least nothing connected with getting us provisions, which work he left to the cook. After enjoying himself for three days in this manner, thinking it was time to return, and collecting what he could, namely some grapes and apples, he came back to us with them as a peace-offering. Whilst he had been away, however, unfortunately for him, our other servants had explained several curious things which we at the time did not understand. These explanations left in our minds no doubt that this wretched Kashmir shikari had not only been robbing us, but also all the coolies as well. We in our ignorance thought that if the coolies were paid with our own hands, the money at least would be safe. In the East this is by no means the case, for the moment we were out of sight, this wily old ruffian would return to the coolies, telling them that they had been overpaid, and that the Sahibs commanded them instantly to give back half of the money. Our coolies were mostly Baltis from the Astor district. These poor Baltis have been a downtrodden race for centuries, harried by their more warlike and courageous neighbours—the Chilasis and the robbers of Gilgit and Hunza. So the shikari has no difficulty in making them yield to his extortion.

Mummery for some time listened to his obvious lying, but soon lost his temper. A coolie anxious to go to his home in the Rupal nullah here served our purpose. The shikari was told to return to the Rupal nullah with him, and at the same time we gave him a letter to Hastings. In that letter, which he could not read, we explained the situation, and instructed Hastings to pay the shikari off and send him about his business.

The route we were following soon turned away to the left, leaving the Diamirai nullah on the right. It was afterwards that we found out the reason for this. It seems to be impossible to descend or ascend this portion of the Diamirai nullah direct. The valley narrows in below the bottom of the glacier, and finally becomes a deep gorge with cliffs thousands of feet high on either side. Our change in direction soon showed us that we should have to cross the tributary Lubar nullah. This meant that we had to climb down a very steep rocky face of about 3000 feet. At about four in the afternoon we arrived at the bottom, finding an impassable glacier torrent thundering over great boulders and swollen by the melted snows of the morning. Walls of rock barred our way either up or down the stream, but Lor Khan said we were at the ford. In vain we tried to place pine trunks across—they were swept away one by one. It was a fine sight to see Lor Khan, stripped to the waist, struggling in the icy water with the great pine stems, a magnificent specimen of fearlessness, muscle, and activity. Fortunately we had insisted on roping him, for once he was carried off his feet and had to be brought back to land half drowned but laughing. It soon became perfectly evident that we could not cross till early next morning, when the frost on the glaciers above would have frozen up the sources of this turbulent stream. As we were wondering where we could possibly find room to lie down for the night, high above us on the opposite bank a stone came bounding down a precipitous gully. Who had started it? Some goat or other wild animal; or was it our cook returning with provisions? Shouting was useless, for the roar of the torrent drowned every noise. Five minutes passed, then ten, finally a quarter of an hour, but we were not destined to be disappointed; at last, more than five hundred feet up the gully opposite, we saw our cook with all the coolies.

After they had descended, a rope was thrown across to them, and we succeeded by its aid in hauling a slippery pine trunk into position behind two large stones. Over this we crossed and camped on a narrow spit of level ground underneath the perpendicular walls of rock: chickens, sugar, eggs, three maunds of flour, and four sheep were amongst the spoils brought up by our cook from Bunar. That evening we ate our meal by the ruddy light of a great camp fire, with the roar of the torrent making it almost impossible to hear our voices, and underneath some gnarled and stunted pines, whose roots were firmly imbedded in the great fissures that ran up the perpendicular rock face. As the question of provisions had been settled for some time, we returned much relieved in our minds to the Diamirai nullah.

The next day, August 14th, it again rained hard nearly all day. At 2 A.M. on the 15th we started once more for the upper camp. We took with us Ragobir, Lor Khan, and a Chilasi coolie, whom I had called Richard the Third, from his likeness to the usual portraits of that monarch. More firewood and provisions and a silk tent were taken up to this camp at the head of the glacier. Two rucksacks had already been left high up on the rocks on the 9th. It was now Mummery's intention to take some more odds and ends up to where they were, and if possible push on with about a third of the provisions to about 20,000 feet, and leave them there for the final attempt. This necessitated sleeping on the top of the second rib of rocks. By the time I had arrived at the upper camp underneath Nanga Parbat I began to develop a headache, and, being otherwise ill as well, I had reluctantly to give up any idea of climbing further. Mummery, Ragobir, and Lor Khan went on, whilst I spent most of the morning watching them climb like flies up the almost perpendicular rib of rocks above me.

Nanga Parbat from the Diamirai Glacier.

But I had to get home that night, and also get the coolie home as well. This was no easy matter, for there were some steep ice slopes, with steps cut in them, and crevasses at the bottom, which so frightened poor Richard the Third, that for a long time I could not induce him even to try. In fact, ultimately I had to threaten him violently with my ice-axe. Whether he thought that it was a choice of death by cold steel above, or cold ice below in the crevasse, I don't know, but he chose the latter, and was much surprised to find that he was not going to be sacrificed after all. Then, before we got home it began to rain heavily, the mists came down, everything becoming dull and dreary, the wind sighed sorrowfully up and down the valley, and I was sorry for Mummery on the inhospitable slopes of the great mountain. Mummery spent the night on the top of the second rib of rocks, and next day he climbed about a thousand feet up the third rib, where he left a rucksack with food. The climb was carried out almost entirely in mist; in fact, in the afternoon down at the camp the mist and rain made things thoroughly uncomfortable. I was beginning to get anxious about Mummery, for he did not come back by sunset, and the night promised to be one of drenching rain. But later, in the dark, he marched back into camp, entirely wet through, but far more cheerful than the circumstances warranted, and very pleased with the climbing. His account of the ice world on Nanga Parbat was wonderful. Nowhere in the Caucasus had he seen anything to compare with it. Avalanches had fallen down thousands of feet, set at an angle of over 60 degrees, that would have almost swept away towns. The crevasses were enormous, and the rock-climbing, although difficult, was set at such a steep angle that no time would be lost in making height towards the upper glacier underneath the final peak. If only the weather would clear, Mummery was sure that we could get on to this upper glacier. But the weather sulked and was against us, it rained nearly all the next day, finishing up with a tremendous thunderstorm. In hope that fine weather would now set in, we turned into our tents for the night. About midnight, gusts of cold wind began to moan amongst the stunted pines that surrounded our tents; then, gathering in force, this demon of the mountains howled round our tents, and snow came down in driven sheets. The anger of the spirits that inhabited the mountains had been roused, we were being informed of what awaited us, should we persist in our impious endeavours to penetrate into the sanctuaries above.

Many times in the pitch darkness of the night I thought the small Mummery tent I was in would be simply torn in pieces, but towards daylight the hurricane gradually died away, and by nine o'clock the sun came out. The scene, when I emerged from the tent, I shall never forget. Bright sunshine and dazzling white snow—but where were all the groves of rhododendron bushes, from four to five feet high, that yesterday had surrounded our camp? Loaded with the snow, they had been beaten flat, and lay there plastered and stuck tight to the ground, by the ice and snow of the blizzard of the night before.

But under the double action of the sun's heat and the rapid evaporation that takes place when the barometer stands only at about sixteen inches, the snow, which was over six inches deep, soon melted, and by the afternoon had all disappeared from around our camp. On the morrow a cloudless sky and a northerly wind changed the whole aspect of affairs.

Diama Glacier.

NANGA PARBAT FROM THE DIAMIRAI GLACIER.

A—Upper Camp at the base of Nanga Parbat.
B—First rib of rocks.
C—Second rib of rocks.
D—Sleeping-place on the top of the second rib of rocks.
E—Third rib of rocks.
F—Mr. A. F. Mummery's highest point (over 20,000 feet).
G—The foot of the Diama Glacier.
H—The Diamirai Glacier.
The dotted line shows route taken.

We had a long consultation, Mummery arguing that we ought to start for Nanga Parbat at once, and make an attempt to reach the summit. His only fear was that Hastings would feel that we were not treating him fairly by starting before he had returned from Astor and could join us in the climb. But the weather had been changeable, and the Chilas coolies with us were predicting that when the next snowstorm came, it would be worse than the last, and the snow would not clear away so quickly. There seemed great probability in their predictions. At any rate, with the cold north wind the good weather would last, but we ought to make use of that good weather at once.

So, hoping that Hastings would forgive us, we started on the final attempt to reach the summit of Nanga Parbat.

Our position was as follows:—We had plenty of provisions and firewood at the camp at the head of the glacier, a tent and more provisions with some spirits and a boiling tin on the top of the second ridge of rocks, and a last rucksack with more edibles half way up the third rib of rock.

On the evening of the 18th, Mummery, Ragobir, and I slept at the camp at the head of the glacier (15,000 feet), but next morning they went on alone, for the coarse food of the previous three weeks had not agreed with me: flour that is largely composed of grindstone is apt to upset one's digestion. Again I sat for a whole morning watching them crawl slowly up that second rib of rock. Once they were hidden from my sight in a huge cloud of snow dust, the fringe of one of those tremendous avalanches that I have only seen in the Himalaya. At last, becoming too small to follow with the eye, they disappeared from my sight.

That night I was again back in the base camp. There I found a note from Hastings that had been sent on ahead from the Lubar nullah with the goat-herd and a coolie; and the next day Hastings himself arrived with large quantities of provisions. He had been as far as Astor, and said that without the invaluable help of Goman Singh he would never have got the coolies back over the Mazeno La.

Late that night Mummery and Ragobir came into camp. They had passed the second night on the summit of the second rib of rocks. Next morning, starting before daylight, they had pushed on up the final rib towards the upper snow-field. The climbing, Mummery admitted, was excessively difficult, but the higher he went the easier it became. Finally, at a height of over 20,000 feet, for he could see over the Nanga Parbat col on his right, Ragobir turned ill: it was therefore folly to attempt to spend another night on the mountain at that height. Reluctantly he had to return; and his disappointment was great, for, as he said, most of the difficulties had been overcome below the upper snow-field, and he was confident that had he reached these upper snows and been able to spend another night on the mountain, he might have reached the summit on the following day.

Thus ended the only attempt Mummery made to reach the summit of Nanga Parbat.

I shall always look upon it as one of his finest climbs. Part of it I know from personal experience, and from Mummery's description of the upper half, there must have been some magnificent climbing, surrounded by an ice world such as can be seen nowhere except on peaks with at least 15,000 feet of snow on them. But it was on too large a scale for ordinary mortals, and the difficulties began just above the camp, at the head of the glacier, 12,000 feet below the summit of the mountain. Although the last 6000 feet of the mountain does not look as if it would present much difficulty or danger, yet above 20,000 feet one would necessarily make height very slowly, and much step-cutting would be almost impossible at that height.

The following two days were spent in discussing what we should do next; for Mummery had very sorrowfully come to the conclusion that his route up Nanga Parbat from the Diamirai glacier must be abandoned.

Ultimately it was agreed that, owing to all the recent snowfalls, a purely snow route was the only one that would give any chance of success. Our last chance lay in finding such a route; in the Rakiot nullah, there perhaps Nanga Parbat might be less precipitous. So thither we determined to go.

When Mummery and Ragobir had come down from the mountain, they did not bring with them the rucksacks from the top of the second rib of rocks. These were too valuable to leave behind. Mummery, disliking the interminable scrambling over loose stones which he would have to endure should he come with the coolies, suggested that the two Gurkhas should be sent early on the 23rd up the glacier to fetch the rucksacks down to the camp at the head of the Diamirai glacier. Here later in the day Mummery should join them, and from this point he could go up the Diama glacier which lay between Nanga Parbat and the Ganalo peak, 21,650 feet high. A snow pass (Diama pass) would then separate them from the Rakiot nullah. He left us on the 23rd, and took with him Lor Khan, and Rosamir, our head coolie, to carry some extra provisions up to the higher camp. That evening they were joined by Ragobir and Goman Singh, who had successfully brought down the rucksacks.

View of Diama Glacier from Diamirai Peak.

The arrow shows the route taken by Mr. A. F. Mummery on 24th August.

Next morning, the 24th August, Lor Khan and Rosamir, having seen them start off up the Diama valley to the east, returned down the Diamirai valley and joined us later. Mummery, Ragobir, and Goman Singh were never seen again.