REVIEWS

1. BURMA'S ICY MOUNTAINS.
2. DELHI CHUNGKING.
3. IM GARTEN DER GOTTLICHEN NANDA.
4. CLIMBS OF MY YOUTH.
5. TWO MOUNTAINS AND A RIVER.

 

 

BURMA'S ICY MOUNTAINS. By F. Kingdon Ward.
London: Jonathan Cape, 1949. 8x5 inches; 287 pages ; illustrations and maps.

In his latest book, Burma's Icy Mountains, Captain Kingdon Ward deals with two separate expeditions to little-known parts of the Burmese frontiers. The first sixteen chapters tell the story of a courageous journey of botanical exploration to far northern Burma, to the region of a group of snow-peaks rising to nearly 20,000 feet and dominated by the majestic Ka Karpo Razi, 19,269 feet. It is difficult to keep track of Kingdon Ward's journeys, so numerous have they been, but as the author tells us, this journey made during 1937 was the third occasion in twelve years that he had visited the mountains beyond Fort Hertz.

Starting from Myitkina in mid-June, and reaching Fort Hertz on 22nd July, Kingdon Ward set out for the valley of the Nam Tamai, arriving there on 4th August. Thence he worked up the river to the junction of the Seingkhu and Adung valleys, making two diversions to explore the Tamai-Dablu divide, one of the main objectives of the expedition.

The Seingkhu confluence was reached, at the end of the bridlepath, on 16th September. In 1931 Kingdon Ward had first seen Ka Karpo Razo at a distance of 12 or 14 miles from the vicinity of the Namni La which he later crossed into Tibet. He now decided to explore the southern approaches to the mountain in the hopes of getting a nearer view, and on the 20th he set out up the Adung valley keeping to the right bank of the gorge where the 'path' was, to say the least of it, extremely hazardous. The Gamlang, a river flowing from the southern slopes of the mountain, was reached on the 29th, and the next fortnight was spent within a few miles of Burma's highest mountain, though only once was a close-up view of it permitted to him. The long journey back to civilization was started on 13th October. Again diversions were made to the Tamai- Dablu divide to collect seeds, and Fort Hertz was reached on 12th December after an absence of just over four months.

The last seven chapters deal with the Vernay-Cutting expedition to the Burma-China border in the neighbourhood of Imaw Bum during the winter of 1938-9, which Kingdon Ward was invited to join. This was a zoological and ornithological expedition on behalf of the American Museum of Natural History. As may be imagined 1 his was a very different affair to Kingdon Ward's lone journey, an affair of fifteen servants and over 100 mule-loads of kit.

Kingdon Ward's main interest is in botany and the very detail that makes this book a veritable joy to the botanist and gardener may not be properly appreciated by the botanical ignoramus. But even he must be interested by the author's clear elucidation of how climate and altitude cause strange vagaries in a number of Alpine and sub-Alpine plants. Moreover, he tells his story vividly and comments in a delightful way on incidents of the journey as well as discoveries.

Burma's Icy Mountains is illustrated by a number of attractive photographs taken by the author himself. The two maps are most welcome. A third giving in more detail the wanderings of the American expedition would have made it somewhat easier to follow their journey.

D. G. Lowndes

 

 

⇑ Top

 

DELHI CHUNGKING. By K. P. S. Menon. Geoffrey Cumber- lege, Oxford University Press. 9X5 inches; 245pages \ 19 illustrations, 2 maps.

This is the diary of a journey to and through places which have not been visited by many British or Indians, and from the story the reader will see how well the author, now Secretary to the Government of India in the Department of External Affairs and Commonwealth Relations, is qualified for his present job. He has travelled widely in Europe and Africa, as well as in Asia, and has made friends with many interesting men, a great number of whom are in high positions. He possesses, moreover, the faculty of keen observation, a great sense of humour, and is very well read.

The stages of his journey to Gilgit need no remark other than a protest against the inclusion, in a reference to Nanga Parbat, of a dramatic but happily premature ac count of the death in 1937 and subsequent exhumation of Paul Bauer. The great mountaineer is still very much alive and during the war became the father of two fine girls. Mr. Menon apologizes, and hopes one day to meet him, after disposing of him so romantically.

Mr. Menon describes vividly the arduous marches up through Hunza across the Karakorarn by the Mintaka pass, and on to Yarkand, interspersing his narrative with bits of Hunza history and legend, and quotations from two great Chinese pilgrims, Fa-hsien and Hsuan Tsang. These two had visited Sarikol, the 'silk country', in about a.d. 400 and 600, and Mr. Menon fully appreciated the privilege of following in their steps.

From Yarkand, in the company of Mr. Gillett, his host in Sinkiang, a visit was made to Khotan, and thence, still by car, back along the 'Silk Road' through Yarkand to Kashgar. Though Kashgar itself was comparatively dull, many interesting contacts were made before starting the thousand-mile journey to Urumchi. The onward route lies, for the most part, parallel to the Tian Shan and is one of the great caravan roads of history. Mr. Menon gives an outline of the Tungan rebellion, and also tells of a meeting with a Chinese Christian general who once baptized a whole regiment with a fire hose. He describes the scene from Urumchi as one of incredible loveliness: the blue skies, the purple-hued bare willows, the half-frozen blue and white Urumchi river, and the white peaks of Bogdo Ola, the 'Spirit Mountain', sacred to the Mongols.

Under the heading 'Return to Civilization' he describes various functions and interesting contacts during the nineteen days' wait for a plane to take him on to Lanchow, where, in a lovely glen surrounded by hills standing like sentinels, is the tomb of Genghis Khan.

Chungking, the final stage, was reached on 1oth December, just six months after leaving Delhi. The numerous apt and interesting quotations from Chinese and other travellers, philosophers, and historians enhance this most interesting diary. It is, moreover, a pleasure to note here and there the author's affection for his own Malabar and its people.

H. W. T.

 

 

⇑ Top

 

IM GARTEN DER GOTTLICHEN NANDA. By R. Jonas. L. W. Seidel and Sohn, Wien. 167 pages; 93 illustrations, 3 maps.¹

This is an account of the Expedition to Garhwal in 1938 in which five Austrians and one German took part, with whom, for liaison as well as for climbing, was Whitehead of the Indian Army. Publication was delayed by the war, but the appearance of this book now is opportune, for it enables close comparison with the recently published narrative in Montagues du Monde of the Swiss Expedition of 1947 to the same region. The leader of the 1938 party was Professor Rudolf Schwarzgruber, and the author, Rudolf Jonas, was the doctor.

Though this part of the Himalaya is comparatively easy of access owing to the sacred shrines about the sources of the Ganges, the great mountains hard by had received less attention than the still greater peaks farther east, such as Trisul, Nanda Devi, arid Kamet.

The book begins with a brief history of climbing in the Himalaya, and a comparison with that in the Alps. There follow descriptions of the climbers and their Sherpa porters. Of the latter, Wangdi Norbu (also known as Ongdi) was outstanding, for he had been on no less than five expeditions—-on Kangchenjunga 1929 with Paul Bauer, Kamet, Everest, Nanga Parbat, and Mana Peak with Smythe. He was later on the Swiss Expedition of 1947 and nearly lost his life on Kedarnath in the second major accident of his career as a 'Tiger’.

There is an interesting discussion of the origin of the 'heavenly Nanda', from which the book takes its title. Nanda is often found in Himalayan nomenclature—-viz. Nanda Devi, Nanda Ghunti, Nandaban, Alaknanda. The Sanskrit dictionary gives the meaning as 'joy' and also as a name for Vishnu. Nanda is a synonym for the goddess Durga. A Garhwali legend tells of a Kumaoni princess Nanda whose lover, though turned away by her father, nevertheless continued to strive for her. Eventually the princess sought refuge on the unconquerable peak of Nanda Devi.

Schwarzgruber's party were favoured with exceptionally fine weather, for the monsoon ended early. Dividing forces, they acclimatized themselves gradually with ascents of the lesser peaks of Bha- girathi North (21,364 feet) and Ghandra Parbat (22,073 feet). Thus encouraged they decided to try Satopanth and Chaukhamba, twenty-three thousanders, the two highest mountains in the district.

On the former, Ellmauthaler, Frauenberger, and Whitehead, with two Shcrpas, encountered great difficulties, and Whitehead, though not fully recovered from his illness developed on the way up from the plains, took over most of the load from a sick Sherpa. His illness was subsequently diagnosed as sprue, and during the expedition he lost over 30 lb. in weight. They concluded that Satopanth should be attacked pre-monsoon by the north-east ridge, which was in fact the route successfully taken by Andr6 Roch in 1947.

On Chaukhamba, Messner and Spannraft spent more than four weeks examining the approaches from all sides. Only that from the north-east by way of the Bhagirathi-Kharak glacier seemed feasible, but here unfortunately their porters failed them after an avalanche swept over the tracks they had just made, covering them with ice- dust. In view of the avalanche disaster in 1939 which overtook Roch's party in almost the same spot, killing two porters, it appears there were some grounds for the Sherpas' hesitancy. Roch also inspected the western approaches in 1947 and agrees with Messner and Spannraft that the most promising approach is from the northeast.

Meanwhile Schwarzgruber, who was just recovering from a severe attack of dysentery, Ellmauthaler, Frauenberger, and Whitehead had been tackling Kedarnath (22,770 feet) from the north-north- west, but were brought up by a dangerous ice-wall. As they were directly in the track of avalanches they decided the risk was unjustifiable and returned to base camp at Nandaban. They agreed that the route tried by Marco Pallis in 1934, up the long ridge between 'White Dome’ (as the Swiss named the eastern satellite) and the summit, afforded the best chance of success, especially in the pre- monsoon period. It is interesting to note that the Swiss party, who successfully used this route in 1947, decided to descend directly to the Kirti glacier, thus avoiding retracing their steps along the ridge, and must have followed approximately the proposed route of the Austrian expedition.

Sri Kailas (22,742 feet) was the next and final objective and was scaled in intensely cold conditions on 16th October by Schwarz- gruber, Ellmauthaler, Jonas, and Frauenberger. They were surprised to find themselves on the northern edge, as it were, of the Himalaya, looking down to and over the plains of Tibet. Jonas questions the name of this peak. Kailas, the real Olympus of the Hindus, lies some six score miles to the east. Sri, of course, means 'holy⁵, but it seems strange that a mountain so far from the pilgrim track should be named Sri Kailas, the 'holy of holies’.

No account of the Gangotri region would be complete without reference to Shivling, mountain of Shiva the destroyer, the 'Himalayan Matterhorn’, which towers, mighty and majestic, above the base camp at Nandaban, inspiring the hearts of the climbers. Though at first a vision of utter inaccessibility, Shivling soon became more familiar and almost like a guardian sentinel. Indeed, they so far forgot their awe as to plan routes for some further ascent.

The first illustration is a very fine colour photo of Shivling, and the many other photographs in the book are of exceptional quality.

The book ends with a few medical notes and a resume of the accomplishments of Austrians in the Himalaya. Though his last paragraph is touched with sadness because it must be so long before his countrymen can climb again, Dr. Jonas does not doubt that there will be many more Austrian climbers playing their parts in the future exploration of the Himalaya.

Dr. Jonas has given an excellent account of the expedition, and has added materially to our previous knowledge of the Gangotri region.

To conclude with a banality: Dr. Jonas waxes ecstatic on the subject of the British plum cake, which, he writes, 'is to be found wherever Britons live’. (Alas that we must now substitute 'was’ for 'is to be’!)

H. W. T.

 

 

⇑ Top

 

CLIMBS OF MY YOUTH. By Andre Roch. London: Lindsay
Raymond. 8 ½ X5 ½ inches; 159 pages; 16 illustrations. 12s. 6d.

This, as the title indicates, is the story of the early mountaineering feats of one of the world's finest climbers, whose name is well known far beyond his own Swiss frontiers. Climbing is in his blood, for his father and uncle were both first-class mountaineers, while he also had the advantage of friendship with the famous Lochmatter family of St. Niklaus, with some of whom he began to climb when he was thirteen. When he was eighteen, a descent from the summit of the Grepon, which began late with a storm raging, brought home to him the lesson that ‘high mountains are stern and unyielding, the more one goes among them the better one comes to know their dangers’. He also writes: I am afraid of mountains and it is because of this that I love them and return to them.⁵

After the Grepon came a fine ascent of the Badile in the Bregaglia and another of the Aiguille du Fou, Chamonix, the latter a most difficult climb on an almost unbelievable aiguille. Then winter ascents of the Dent du Requin and of the Grepon. Adventure on the north-east ridge of the Jungfrau, the Mittelegi ridge of the Eiger, and the north-east ridge of the Dom in 1928, preceded a fine traverse of the Aiguille du Diable. In 1931 came a first ascent of the Triolet, north face, and a first descent, much talked-of, of the north face of the Aiguille du Dru. The last chapters describe three first ascents in the Chamonix aiguilles.

All these climbs took place before Andre Roch was twenty-six and it is an under-staternent to say that his descriptions are thrilling. The illustrations are excellent and in several cases, astounding. This book should rank among the finest yet produced on mountaineering and the price of it is surprisingly low.

H. W. T.

 

 

⇑ Top

 

TWO MOUNTAINS AND A RIVER. By H. W. Tilman. London: Cambridge University Press. 9x6 inches; 228 pages', 36 plates-, 6 maps.

This fine contribution to the literature of mountaineering art, somewhat resembling a drama in three acts with a couple of entr'actes, tells the story of an adventurous year. It begins with an attempt, in June 1947, on Rakaposhi, that graceful mountain of 25,550 feet, which towers above the Hunza river about 25 miles from Gilgit. The party was bi-lingual, including Tilman and Campbell Secord, with Gyr and Kappeler, both experienced climbers who were visiting the Himalaya under the aegis of the Swiss Fondation for mountain exploration. They were a strong team but severe technical difficulties and bad weather ruined their chances of success—nor had they sufficient time at their disposal, and, in Tilman’s view, 'to devote less than two months to a big unknown mountain is bordering on disrespect⁵.

Following this attempt, exploration was undertaken of a hitherto untouched glacier area which lies south of the Batura range and west and north respectively of the Hunza and Gilgit rivers. The author sums up their achievements here with the remark: 'Our defeat was complete. We had explored the Kukuay from snout to source and it was unfortunate that we dispelled not only our own dreams but those also of the Survey of India draughtsmen.’

Grossing the Mintaka and the Taghdumbash Pamir Tilman went on to keep a long-arranged date at Tashkurghan with Shipton, who was at that time H.B.M. Consul at Kashgar. Together they launched an attack on Muztagh Ata, 24,388 feet, which Tilman describes in his usual graphic style, concluding by frankly ascribing their failure to 'inexcusable assumption of the probable snow conditions, over- confidence in our own powers, and the unexpected cold⁵—hardly to be expected in mid-August. Shipton⁵s foot was badly frost-bitten and this was of course the actual deciding factor: 'failure with frostbite thrown in was a tough bullet to chew’.

The author then tells of a happy prelude to the last phase of the year. He dallied in Kashgar at the Consulate for three restful and highly interesting weeks. After which, in the concluding act, we learn that 'preferring a reasonable alternative route’ for his homeward journey he decided to diverge via Wakhan, the extreme north-east province of Afghanistan. This offered the attractive prospect of visiting the source of the Oxus and of seeing the high mountains adjacent to the Kukuay. He hoped to elude any stray Afghan official in that remote region; however, that was not to be. He tells the story, with quite excusable bitterness, of his arrest, imprisonment, and eventual expulsion via the Dorah pass on the Afghan-Chitral frontier, but this bitterness is tempered by a grateful recollection of surprising kindness and consideration at the hands of an Afghan General.

In his three previous books Tilman has climbed high in both actual and figurative sense—in this one, although he may not have conquered the summits he aimed at, he has, nevertheless, attained great literary altitude. It contains a good measure of the author's own special brand of humour and shows once again his particular aptitude for describing men and their ways of life. His similes hit the nail on the head every time, and a galaxy of quotations and proverbs from a seemingly unfailing store are always pungent and often most amusing. Truly a delicious book for all sorts and conditions of men.

H. W. Tobin

⇑ Top