THE UPPER KHARTA VALLEY AND THE 20,000 FOOT CAMP

During the early part of August Mallory and Bullock, after they had found that there was no possible means of attacking Mount Everest from the Kama Valley, crossed the Langma La and returned to the Kharta Valley. Up this valley they now proceeded until they reached the glaciers in which the Kharta River has its source. After exploring a number of valleys, they at last found one which led straight to Mount Everest. Accompanied by Major Morshead, who had joined them during their excursion, they made a long and tiring reconnaissance of this valley, and satisfied themselves that it afforded a practicable approach to the North-eastern ridge of Mount Everest. The slopes were fairly gentle, but were at that time covered with soft fresh snow, knee deep. Over these snow-covered glaciers, up which they had proceeded with great difficulty, they found a col from which it was possible to attack the mountain. Under the existing conditions of soft snow and warm weather it would have been quite impossible to take laden coolies along this route, and they therefore returned to Kharta to wait until the monsoon conditions had abated and the snow should have become hard and frozen.

On our return from the Kama Valley on August 29, we found Mallory and Bullock still at Kharta, waiting for the weather to improve. About this time it was showing distinct signs of improvement. The clouds were not so thick and there were many more bright intervals with blue skies. They therefore determined to start off on August 31, to form an advanced base camp up the Kharta Valley.

On September 1, much to the surprise of every one, Raeburn arrived back from Darjeeling. He reported very wet conditions throughout Tibet, the rivers everywhere being unfordable, and most of the bridges washed away. He also reported having seen five bags of our mails at Chushar. Our posts had latterly been very erratic, and for five weeks no mails had arrived. We did not know what had happened to them. We were sending in a couple of our own coolies every fortnight to Phari with our outgoing mail, and the first lot of these coolies had not yet returned, so that we were all without news of the outside world. Although it was the beginning of September, the night temperatures at Kharta were still much too high, ranging from 52° Fahr. to 47° Fahr. On September 3 Morshead and Wheeler left for the Upper Kharta Valley, intending to go slowly and to map and fill in the detail of the valley as they went along.

The tameness of the birds gave us many opportunities of studying their habits. A large family of redstarts lived in our garden at Kharta, and used to amuse me very much. The young birds were now fully fledged and spent most of the day in hopping in and out of my tent; they were not in the least degree afraid, and the mother would come and feed them actually inside my tent. On the terrace near the camp there were a number of prettily marked white rock pigeons which formed a welcome addition to our diet of Tibetan mutton, of which we were getting very tired.

On September 5 Wollaston, Raeburn and I, with twenty-six Tibetan coolies, and eleven of our own, started off to join the climbing party up the Kharta Valley. The first 7 miles of this valley I knew well, having traversed them many times before. The barley fields were now fast ripening, and were a beautiful golden colour. Curious to relate, the barley that grew at 14,000 feet was riper than that which grew at 12,000 feet. Two kinds of barley seemed to be grown here—the ordinary variety, and another with a red ear such as is, I believe, grown in the Shetlands. We rode past the tidy-looking monastery of GandenchÖfel, surrounded by its juniper trees, and after a steep climb past the entrance of the valley leading to the Langma La, descended on to some fine river terraces, on which were many prosperous farms and well-tilled fields. These extended for several more miles up the valley. We pitched our camp on a grassy flat a couple of miles above the last house, where willows, rhododendrons and junipers grew plentifully; the marshy ground was carpeted with gentians, one of the commonest being dark blue in colour with ten petals, and rather like a star in shape, the other being larger and of a pale Eton-blue colour. I managed to collect a certain number of seeds of both of these. We had a grand bonfire that evening, made of juniper and willow, the last that we were to have for a long time. The weather was disappointing and a drizzling rain fell all night with a temperature of 42° Fahr.

It was still raining when we started in the morning, so that there were no views. A white andromeda was still in flower on the hillsides, but the rhododendrons were all over. On the opposite side of the valley juniper alone flourished and grew to an altitude of nearly 17,000 feet. After going a couple of miles, we passed Morshead and Wheeler's tents pitched on an old yak camp. When we arrived, they were still having breakfast, as the weather was too bad to do any surveying. On leaving them we had a steep climb over grassy slopes, where the drizzling rain now changed to snow, and for the rest of the day it fell steadily. There appeared to be many branch valleys, and as our views in the mist were very curtailed, we were not at all certain as to whether we were going up the right valley—I only knew approximately the height of the place at which we were to camp. Therefore, on arriving at that height, I sent my coolies off in two different directions up two different valleys to see where Mallory and Bullock's camp might be. The mist lifted for a moment, and one of them luckily saw Mallory, whose camp was only a few hundred yards from us. We decided to call this our “Advanced base camp.” It was pitched in some small grassy hollows at a height of 17,350 feet. The site was well sheltered from the winds, and was a regular Alpine garden. Gentians of three different kinds were growing there, including the lovely light-blue one. There was also a beautiful little white saxifrage with yellow and brown spots inside the flower, a delightful pink androsace, and dwarf delphiniums with their single deep-blue flowers. Here grew also the musk-scented hairy light-blue delphinium with its overpowering smell of musk. The latter flower, the Tibetans told me, was a great preventative of lice, and I noticed that our cooks and most of our servants had picked great bundles of it. They also told me that if a man habitually wears this flower about him during his lifetime, after his death when cut up and exposed to the birds, no bird or wolf will touch his flesh owing to the strong scent apparently left by the musk. A pretty pink aster grew here in great clusters, and a few blue poppies were still out. Acchu, our cook, and Gyalzen Kazi, who were coming along behind us, both missed their way and wandered several miles further up the valley before they found out their mistake, and when they eventually arrived in camp, were both suffering from severe headaches, due to the great height. During our stay at this camp we had plenty of time and many opportunities of observing bird and animal life. Some of the birds were very brilliantly coloured. There was a snow bunting with bright scarlet breast and head, also a beautiful redstart with red body and black and white wings. Overhead the great LÄmmergeier, or bearded vulture, sailed in graceful circles, while the big black raven croaked on the rocks by the camp. Morning and evening we could hear the ramchakor (Tetraogallus tibetanus) calling on the opposite side of the valley, and with glasses we could see them chasing one another and running round in circles. Red foxes I met with on several occasions over 18,000 feet.

Mallory and Bullock, who had already been here for a few days, had spent their time in carrying wood and stores up to a higher camp further up the valley; they had been having a certain amount of trouble with their coolies, due to the Sirdar, who was always trying to create difficulties. I therefore sent him away on a job to Chushar to collect some of our stores which were supposed to have been detained there, and which would keep him busy for a number of days and prevent him from interfering with our coolies at a critical period. We had brought up with us six live sheep, and very lively these proved. Dukpa, Mallory's cook, let three of them escape, but luckily some coolies coming up the valley saw two of them, and after a great chase brought them back. The third they could not catch and eventually drove him under a cliff, where they killed him with stones and brought his carcass back to us. The weather continued very unsettled. During the night a couple of inches of snow fell, but until the temperature became colder and the sky cleared, it was no use trying to go up to the upper camp. I shot a ramchakor on the opposite side of the valley. They are the most tasty of the Tibetan birds, and are quite excellent eating.

On September 8, after a frosty night, Bullock, Mallory and I with three coolies, for the purpose of keeping fit, made a little excursion along a rocky ridge that lay to the South of us. On the top of the ridge there were a number of sharp rock pinnacles that had to be climbed. I found these gymnastics at a height of over 19,000 feet to be very exhausting, but Mallory did not seem to mind them in the least. There should have been a lovely view from here, but all we got was an occasional glimpse of glaciers and rocky peaks through the mist. The sun was trying to shine through the clouds and at first it was beautifully warm; but after a couple of hours snow began to fall, so we hurriedly descended on to the glacier below. Snow fell all the way back to camp, and by nightfall there were 3 inches of fresh snow round our tents. During the night the thermometer dropped to 21° Fahr., and the morning broke clear and frosty. I started off early to climb the hill behind the camp, from which there was a very extensive view, both Everest and Makalu being for the moment quite clear and free from cloud. To the North extended a great range of snow peaks between 23,000 feet and 24,000 feet in height, rather uninteresting in appearance, and to the East stretched a great sea of accumulating cloud, out of which appeared the tops of Kanchenjunga and Jannu. The peak on which we stood was just under 20,000 feet; I spent several hours basking in the hot sunshine, which was rapidly melting the fresh snow. I was surprised to find growing at this height a tiny yellow saxifrage.

That evening eight coolies arrived with our long-expected mail, and the rest of the day was spent in reading letters and sorting out papers, for over two hundred letters and papers had arrived for me alone. There was again a sharp frost of 10° that night and the early morning was beautiful, but clouds came quickly drifting up the valley and obscured the fine views we had from the camp of Mount Everest and the rocky peaks to the North of the camp. On September 11, in spite of a warm night, Mallory and Bullock, being very optimistic, left for the upper camp, while Morshead and Wheeler rejoined us from their camp below, not having been able to do any work down there owing to bad weather. Snow fell steadily all the evening to a depth of about 3 inches. Next day was cloudy, but warm, and the snow disappeared again with extraordinary rapidity. I went out with a shotgun to try and shoot some ramchakor, and while after them saw a very fine grey wolf who was also stalking the ramchakor. He came up to within 50 yards of me, so that I was able to have a good look at him. He had a beautiful coat, and it was very unfortunate that I did not have a rifle with me. I wandered some way up a side valley to the foot of a glacier, but saw no signs of birds, as the wolf had evidently been there before me. In the afternoon Mallory and Bullock returned from the upper camp, having been driven down by the bad weather: another 5 inches of snow fell that evening, so that we were kept busy beating our tents to keep the ridge poles from breaking. On September 13, 14 and 15, snow fell on and off the whole time; but in spite of the bad weather I managed to shoot a burhel for food. Their meat is very much better than that of the tame sheep. On September 16 we had at last a fine day with a sharp frost at night. Wheeler at once seized this opportunity and took up a station on a hill-top on the opposite side of the valley, from which he was able to get some useful views. The next day, after 13° of frost in the night, Mallory, Morshead and I started off to climb Kama Changri, a peak to the South of the camp, that overhung the Kama Valley. We left the camp at 2 a.m., by the light of a full moon, which made the going as light as though it were day. We soon reached our view-point of a few days before, where, except for the distant roar of the stream far away below in the valley, there was no other sound, only an intense stillness. Never anywhere have I seen the moon or the stars shine so brightly. To the South, far away from us, there were constant flashes of lightning—the valleys in Tibet, the great gorges of the Arun, the wooded valleys of Nepal all lay buried under a white sea of clouds, out of which emerged the higher mountains like islands out of a fairy sea. In this bright moonlight, mountains like Kanchenjunga—100 miles away—stood out sharp and distinct. Here on this sharp ridge, at a height of 21,000 feet, with no obstruction to hide the view, sunrise came to us in all its beauty and grandeur. To the West, and close at hand, towered up Mount Everest, still over 8,000 feet above us; at first showing up cold, grey and dead against a sky of deep purple. All of a sudden a ray of sunshine touched the summit, and soon flooded the higher snows and ridges with golden light, while behind, the deep purple of the sky changed to orange. Makalu was the next to catch the first rays of the sun and glowed as though alive; then the white sea of clouds was struck by the gleaming rays of the sun, and all aglow with colour rose slowly and seemed to break against the island peaks in great billows of fleecy white.

Such a sunrise has seldom been the privilege of man to see, and once seen can never be forgotten. After sunrise the climbing became more unpleasant. We tried to follow the direct way up the mountain, but the snow was in bad condition and the slope very steep. We therefore crossed the glacier, putting on our snow-shoes, and followed easier snow slopes but bad owing to the soft snow. The going was very tiring; Mallory and Morshead appeared to feel the height very much. After six hours we reached the top, 21,300 feet, from which we had a most superb view. We looked straight down on to the Kama Valley. Makalu was immediately opposite us with its colossal precipices. Glaciers, cliffs of ice, rock peaks, fluted snow ridges and immense mountains towered all around us above a vast sea of clouds which stretched for hundreds of miles away to the plains of India. Here I was able to take many photographs, but no photograph can adequately portray the grandeur or the impressiveness of such a scene. We stopped on the top of Kama Changri for over three hours. It was extraordinarily warm; there was not a breath of air, and the sun seemed to shine with an intense heat. Clouds then began to roll up, and we returned to camp by an easier way down the glacier.

Next day, in spite of 13° of frost at night, snow and sleet fell all day again, and made us very depressed. In order to prevent our going to sleep too soon after dinner, four of us used to play bridge every night, and I do not suppose that bridge has often been played at so great a height.

On September 19, after a cold night with 16° of frost, Mallory, Bullock, Morshead and Wheeler started off for the 20,000-foot camp. The weather was now steadily growing colder every night. On September 20 we had 18° of frost, as well as a further fall of snow. During the night a very fine lunar halo was seen, but the morning broke clear. Wollaston, Raeburn and I started to join the remainder of the party at the 20,000-foot camp, leaving Gyalzen Kazi, our second interpreter, behind in charge of the advance base camp. It was very necessary to have some one here to whom we could send back for any extra stores or supplies that might be wanted, and who would be able to forward to us anything that might be sent up from Kharta. A four hours' walk brought us to the camp. I had a thorough feeling of lassitude all the way. It required, indeed, some effort to walk at all, and a strong effort, both of mind and body, to reach camp. On the way beautiful views of Mount Everest gave us encouragement. The foot of the Kharta Glacier descends to 19,000 feet. From that point on to the camp we travelled beside it. At first the glacier is cut up into wonderfully shaped “seracs,” but as we got higher the surface became smoother. It was an exceptionally white glacier; there were no moraines on its surface, and it was covered everywhere with a fresh coating of thick snow. We found the camp on a terrace between two glaciers. That above the camp resembled the pictures of a Greenland ice cap. A thick coating of ice, to a depth of 50 to 60 feet, covered the gentle slopes above us, and came down to within a couple of hundred yards of the camp. The drainage from the melting ice percolated through the stony ground, so that on digging to a depth of 6 inches we came upon water. A couple of hundred feet below the camp was the big white glacier which descended from the Lhakpa La. The day was gloriously fine, and we obtained magnificent views of Mount Everest and the snowy chain to the South of us across the Kharta Glacier. Over the top of this snowy chain appeared the great rocky crests of Makalu. At an altitude of over 19,800 feet I saw a hare and heard several ramchakor calling. There grew close to the camp a few gentians with their curious square leaves, also a dwarf blue delphinium and a little white saxifrage. It was an extraordinary height at which to find flowers and their season of summer cannot last long. On arrival at the camp, we found only Wheeler and Bullock there, as Mallory and Morshead with fourteen coolies had gone on ahead to carry loads up to the Lhakpa La, which was to be our next camp. They returned in a very exhausted condition in the course of the afternoon. The snow, they reported, was in better condition than last time on the lower slopes; but as they got higher, they found it still very soft and powdery. These extra loads that they had taken up to this camp would enable the whole party to go up to it and to sleep there, if necessary, for several days. As the sun was setting behind Mount Everest, we were treated to a glorious view. The ring of clouds that surrounded it were all touched by the bright evening sunlight, while the mountain itself was in deep shadow except for great streamers of powdery fresh snow which were being blown off the whole length of its crests. We stood and watched this extraordinary sight for some time, devoutly hoping that the wind would soon die down. Unfortunately we were soon to experience what a strong wind meant at these heights.

Sea of cloud from peak north of Kama Valley.
Kanchenjunga in distance.