1939 KARAKORAM EXPEDITION

PETER MOTT

The map which resulted from the 1937 Shaksgam Expedition went a long way towards filling in the topographical void of the central Karakoram. But it left one important gap of completely unsurveyed territory between the confluence of the Shaksgam and Braldu rivers, and the watershed lying north of the Crevasse glacier. There remained also the long-standing confusion in the region of the Hispar and Biafo glaciers, which had for many years assumed an almost legendary significance. In 1905 Dr. and Mrs. Bullock Workman claimed to have found a glacier (the 'Cornice') without an outlet, while the great ice-field of the 'Snow Lake', discovered by Sir Martin Conway in 1892, was thought by later geographers to be the possible source of all the major glaciers in the region. These geographical anomalies were finally disposed of by Tilman in 1937 when, at the conclusion of the Shaksgam Expedition, he crossed the Snow Lake (now renamed Lukpe Lawo), discovered a pass that led over the west wall of the Biafo into the head of the 'Cornice', and followed the latter down a perfectly normal course into the Basha valley.

Tilman's journey succeeded in clearing up the major uncertainties in the area, but there still remained much that required further exploration. The existing maps were based on the very sketchy surveys of Conway and the Bullock Workmans, and were not only unreliable in detail but also unconnected to the few G.T.S. points then available.

Shipton planned to spend the summer of 1939 in making a properly connected survey of the whole of the Snow Lake country including on the east the Panmah and Nobande Sobande, to the south the Biafo, and west as far as the Chogo Lungma and Hispar glacier systems. The total area to be surveyed amounted to some 2,000 sq. miles.

One of the greatest hindrances to travel in the Karakoram is the rivers, which in the late spring and summer become immense swollen torrents that constitute impassable barriers. It was hoped that during the winter the rivers, when frozen and snow-covered, instead of impeding progress, would provide a means of travel on ski into the heart of the unexplored regions north and east of the Shimshall pass. With this in view Shipton planned to move up in the late autumn to a winter base near the village of Shimshall. Little is known of the conditions during the winter months on the northern side of the range or of the behaviour of the people, animals and plants there. The winter programme therefore held out possibilities of wide and varied interest.

Finally in the spring of 1940 a journey was to be attempted from Shimshall to Leh, following the Shaksgam to the east and then passing through and mapping the little known parts of the Aghil range.

The expedition, assembled in Srinagar at the end of May, consisted of Eric Shipton, leader; Dr. R. Scott Russell, plant physiologist; Dr. E. C. Fountaine, medical officer; and myself, surveyor. Messrs. A. F. Betterton and Campbell Secord accompanied us for some weeks, the latter joining us at Nagir during the outward journey. The Survey of India, who had expressed considerable interest in our plans, not only assisted with much sound advice and a monetary grant, but also lent us two of their most experienced surveyors, Fazal Ellahi and Inayat Khan, to assist with the plane- tabling during the summer season. Last, but far from least important, were the nine sherpa porters, headed by the redoubtable Angtharkay who in 1933 carried up to 27,400 feet on Everest.

The road to Gilgit from Kashmir is a long and varied one. At Bandipura, the limit of the motor-road, we found our caravan in readiness amounting to thirty-five heavily loaded pack ponies. Climbing rapidly above the terraced ricefields, we looked down on the Vale of Kashmir; the Dal Lake and floating gardens; the smoke rising from numbers of ramshackle little villages shaded by graceful chinars and tall white poplars: the whole softened and transformed into a dreamlike unreality by wreaths of blue haze above which floated a line of distant snow peaks, seemingly unattached to the world below. After crossing the pass above the Tragbal bungalow, we descended into the beautiful alpine valley of the Kischenganga, thankful for the relief of pinewoods and clear mountain streams to protect us from the heat of a scorching sun. Once again the track climbed, this time reaching snow on the Kamri pass (14,000 feet) with a fine view of Nanga Parbat. There followed a rapid change of scene. Leaving the greenery and pinewoods behind, we followed the path down a valley filled with a profusion of Himalayan rose to the attractive village of Astor, which climbs steeply from the river in a series of irrigated terraces laden at the time with a rich crop of wheat, barley and corn. The rest of the journey to Gilgit was along a wearisome track, clinging first to the barren cliffs above the Astor gorge, and then crossing the torrid Bunji plain, parched and arid as any desert.

After two days spent in enjoying the rest and lavish hospitality of Gilgit, we left on the last stage of the 250-mile march to Nagir in the Hispar valley, the real base of operations.

Almost at once we plunged into country the scale of which it was at first difficult to comprehend. The Hunza valley, which we followed for some distance, is overshadowed on the south by Rakaposhi (25,550 feet), a serene precipice of fluted ice and rock that towers 20,000 feet above the valley floor with a directness that challenges the imagination.

When within a day's march of Nagir, Russell, Fazal Ellahi and I, with five sherpas, ascended a hill known as Zangia Harar (14,031 feet), from which I hoped to begin the survey, and Russell his botany. We started the climb from the village of Phikar, which three years before had been the scene of a terrible landslide in which twenty-six people lost their lives. The upper part of the village is built on a wide shelf where the hillside eases off before dropping steeply to the river. Part of this shelf, composed of conglomerate, broke away from the rest, and a whole section of the village was swept down. It must have been a remarkably precipitate fall, for we found isolated trees flourishing happily 500 feet below where they formerly existed. We were none of us in very good trim and even the sherpas found the going very hard. There was no water to be had until we had climbed 5,000 feet and were within an hour of the top. We camped two nights on the summit of Zangia Harar, which was one of the G.T.S. stations of the Indo-Russian triangulation. I experienced a bad attack of altitude sickness at this camp and spent a very miserable two days getting acclimatized. On both nights we carried out a fix for latitude and longitude but the results were not as successful as we hoped owing to the illumination system of the instrument giving trouble. On the third day we rejoined Shipton at Nagir, on 5th July.

Shipton's original plan had been to take the whole party straight up to the Hispar pass and establish a permanent camp for at least two months on the Snow Lake. From a measured base-line it was proposed to extend a triangulation outwards in all directions, providing a framework which would be tied on to any existing G.T.S. points in the area. While the surveyors were at work, there would have been ample time for others to explore the possibilities of any passes over the main watershed to the north, and across to the Panmah and Sokha ('Cornice') glaciers south-east and south-west respectively. The Survey of India, however, was anxious to have a triangulation carried up the Hispar glacier from the Indo-Russian series in the Hunza valley, a distance of some 60 miles as the crow flies. Very unwisely, as it proved, the original plans were changed and we decided on the latter course.

The day following our arrival at Nagir, Russell, Secord and Betterton went up the Barpu glacier to collect plants and look for a pass to the Ghogo Lungma, while Shipton, Fountaine and I set out to climb Buri Harar, the second of the Indo-Russian trig, stations with which I hoped to make a connexion. Led by a native of the village, who claimed to know the route, we endured the most horrible waterless climb in intense heat, and were finally forced to camp without water near the top of the ridge, where we were reduced to sucking raw eggs to alleviate our thirst. As soon as it was light we set off again and two hours later reached a small brook, the most welcome sight of water I have ever had! The station Buri Harar, instead of being on the 'highest accessible point of the ridge', as it was described in the Survey of India pamphlet, proved to be on a low inconspicuous spur which was totally unsuitable for our purpose. With little difficulty we climbed a further 2,000 feet to the true summit of the ridge, whence we looked down into a deep-cut valley containing the dead moraine of the Gharesa glacier. Fountaine left us the next day to follow up the Gharesa in the hope of finding a pass over the watershed to the glaciers of Shimshall. Though he found no sign of a pass, he was able to explore up to the head of the glacier which rises from a range of high peaks; several of these are over 24,000 feet. Fountaine took with him the Zeiss light phototheodolite and brought back photographs from which we were able to fill in the gaps in Inayat Khan's plane- table survey at the end of the expedition. The Gharesa, which was previously unexplored, is therefore now both known and well mapped.

Shipton and I returned rather disconsolately to Nagir. Five valuable days had been spent on a wild-goose chase that had achieved little else than to point out more forcibly than ever the mistake of not having adhered to the original plan. It was by this time too late to alter the plans again, as both the Indian plane-tablers had been at work for a week and they were in urgent need of further triangulated points. A very active week followed while we laid out a base-line and climbed to several high tops in the vicinity of Nagir. Often we would spend four or five hours on the summit of a hill waiting for the clouds to disperse and sighting the telescope on the peaks as they emerged every now and then between rolling masses of thick mist. While we were on the Barpu and Bualtar glaciers a stone avalanche continued for two days, filling the air for miles around with a dense dust haze that screened most of our view. Always the trouble of finding water and fuel in such barren country made camp sites difficult to find and added to the exertion of the climbs. Our one great delight was the ablation valleys that were a feature of many of the glaciers. That on the Barpu followed along its right bank almost to the head, and was filled with clumps of willow and a gay profusion of rose thickets and wild flowers.

Following our return from the Gharesa summit, Gyalgen, Lobsang and I set off again, this time to ascend the southern ridge of the valley where I had intersected a distinctive rock tower on which hinged the next triangle of the framework. By keeping to the south side of the gorge I hoped to make a direct approach to the point up a narrow valley I had seen from the Gharesa ridge. The entrance to this valley was by way of a cleft scarcely 20 feet in width between vertical conglomerate cliffs 100 feet in height. We followed up this extraordinary gully until suddenly without warning we came face up to a waterfall wedged tightly between the perpendicular faces of the cliffs; there was absolutely no way of surmounting this obstacle and we were forced to retrace our steps to the main valley. We tried another gully lower down with exactly the same result. The only, course left was to follow the Hispar downstream until we could find a suitable place to gain the main spur of the ridge. Had we appreciated in the least the difficulties that lay ahead we should without question have returned to the upper bridge and followed the track down the north side of the gorge. Since we were already a long way below the bridge I decided it would be quicker to continue along the south shore until we met the track at the lower of the two bridges. In place of the earlier sandflats, however, the river now clung tenaciously to the sides of the canyon, forcing us continually into a climb of several hundred feet where a bluff fell sheer into the boiling fury of the water. Finally, when within sight of the lower bridge, we were baulked completely by a sharp spur of hardened silt. The sherpas were beyond praise. They had been carrying 60-70 lb. loads for ten consecutive hours with scarcely any rest or food. The robust, sturdy figure of Lobsang seemed activated by a tireless mechanism. Not even this final obstacle perturbed him and he began at once to cut steps up to the crest of the spur where a series of pointed pinnacles, like minarets, stood out against the fading blue of the sky. From the top of the pinnacle ridge I managed to work my way along on to some rocks and slither down the far side on to a silt platform. The sherpas with their heavy packs were unable to follow, and I was left alone in approaching twilight, a thousand feet above the river and cut off completely from food, water, and warm clothes. In the half light the descent to the river looked extremely difficult, and I was unable to regain the ridge from which I had come. I therefore took the only remaining course and lunged uphill, clinging to the roots of plants and embedded stones for a handhold. After a most hazardous piece of climbing I regained the spur 500 feet above the place where I had left the sherpas, and to my intense relief heard the voices of my faithful companions still toiling uphill on the far side of the ridge in a valiant effort to reach me. We slept that night on platforms cut into the silt and just wide enough to prevent us from rolling downhill. In the morning we made a long and difficult descent to the bridge by cutting steps all the way in consolidated silt that was as hard as glacier ice. After a much- needed meal and water, we continued along the track as far as the grazing ground of Haru, whence for many tiresome hours we climbed up grass- and scrub-covered slopes and spent the next night in some sheep pens just below a small lake called Rash Phari, at a height of about 14,500 feet. A climb of another 2,000 feet next morning brought us at last to the illusive survey point. By then the weather had changed for the worse: mist, snow and sleet continued intermittently all day, reducing visibility to a few hundred feet. It rained all the following night. At daybreak there at first seemed no hope of the weather clearing up and we spent the first half of the day huddled in the bleak shelter of the sheep pens. At midday there were signs of the clouds breaking up, so Gyalgen and I climbed once again to the survey point, where I was just able to snatch the peaks up the Hispar glacier as they appeared between rolling banks of mist.

On 31st July the whole party reassembled at Makorum, half-way up the Hispar glacier, where we had a beautiful camp on a terrace beneath flower-covered slopes that provided Russell with an excellent opportunity for collecting plants and taking soil specimens for analysis. His object was to investigate the effect of environment and climate on the processes that control plant growth.

While Shipton and I continued with the triangulation, and Fazal Ellahi worked on the detailed plane-tabling of the upper Hispar, Fountaine and Secord made an interesting exploration of the Kun- yang glacier, a northern tributary of the Hispar that leads beneath the towering ice precipices of Disteghil, with the intention of reaching a high saddle at the head of the Kunyang, which would have provided a pass across to the Yazghil glacier and a direct route to Shimshall. They crossed a high pass that led from a tributary to the head of the main glacier, but were forced to abandon any attempt to reach the final col over the main watershed owing to the danger of ice avalanches.

From Makorum we moved camp across the glacier and up the northern limit of the ice to Kani Basa about 6 miles west of the Hispar pass. Here I met with an accident that destroyed our hopes of an accurate connexion between the Indo-Russian triangulation in the Hunza valley and the few G.T.S. points in the Lukpe Lawo (Snow Lake) area that formed part of the old Kashmir Series. Successive periods of freeze and thaw had undermined the stability of a pile of rocks covering the top of a nearby hill that comprised one of my stations. Owing to bad weather I had to climb this hill on two occasions: the second time I went up alone. The top of the rock pile was surmounted by a large boulder weighing several tons on which I set up the theodolite. Unknown to me the boulder must have been finely balanced beneath, though I had already spent the previous day sitting on top of it! As I moved round to level the instrument there was an ominous rumble underneath and the whole mass began to roll downhill. I was carried head-first down the slope for about 20 feet when, luckily for me, the rock avalanche came prematurely to a standstill and, apart from bruises, I emerged unharmed. The theodolite, however, had its vertical axis bent and was useless for further work. The rest of the triangulation had to be carried out with the small Zeiss instrument that was incapable of the accuracy required. The disappointment of being frustrated when within 15 miles of my goal completely destroyed any thankfulness I should have felt for my escape from what might easily have proved a fatal accident.

The Nagiri porters had given trouble from the start. In the early stages of placing dumps up the glacier both Shipton and Russell had experienced endless difficulty with them. At Kani Basa they refused flatly to go over the Hispar pass though we offered them sleeping-bags, warm clothing, tents, and extra pay for the two days needed to establish a camp on the Snow lake. Nothing but a dread fear of venturing on the upper part of the glacier could have produced so blank a refusal.

The burden of transporting the stores and equipment needed for a period of at least two months now rested entirely with the nine sherpas, one Nagir man (who remained faithful to us throughout the expedition), and five Europeans. Our personal clothing and possessions were reduced to 25 lb. per head. Everything not absolutely essential was left behind in a dump which Shipton cleared on his way back at the end of the summer. On 13th August we set off heavily loaded for the Hispar pass.

A brilliant sun converted the pure white slopes in front of us into a million pin-points of flashing crystal. Gaping voids of steel blue lay below the tumbled seracs, and dwarfed the little cavalcade that threaded its way gingerly across the ice bridges or toiled up the long snow slopes towards the barely perceptible summit of the last rise. Early in the afternoon we pitched camp on the highest point of the pass at 17,000 feet. The panorama that unfolded itself before us must rank as one of the most majestic and transcendently beautiful landscapes in the world. A thousand feet below the camp the upper reaches of the Biafo glacier split up into two great arms to the northwest and north-east. At the limit of each arm a ring of ice-falls plunged precipitately down into the snow-filled amphitheatre which Conway so aptly termed the Snow lake. Dominating the southern ring of mountains, the matchless spire of Baintha Brakk (Conway's ^cOgre' Peak, 23,900 feet) soared into a sky of deepest blue, with a pennant of snow streaming from its crest. Beyond this proximate vision there stretched a limitless field of ivory towers each belittled by the magnitude of the surrounding ranges but individually giants in their own right. There was a sense of utter remoteness and transcendent peace in this limitless arena of high peaks that held one suspended in its grip. I have seldom, if ever, witnessed a finer mountain view.

Two days were spent on top of the pass during which Shipton, Fountaine and I occupied several high triangulation stations. Russell and Secord ascended a peak on the north that had been climbed in 1908 by the Workmans, who had given its height as 21,300 feet. Both our triangulated value and that of Fazal Ellahi on his plane-table showed the true height of this mountain to be only 19,400. This was typical of the discrepancies we found between the actual height of the peaks in this area and those shown on the existing maps, which in nearly every case were wildly in error. The weather during these two days was perfect and we gained very extensive views from the various stations, reaching as far as K2 and Haramosh. The height for the Hispar pass worked out at 16,910 feet, and our fixing placed it 7 miles west of the position shown on the map, thus shortening the length of the Hispar to 30 miles. On 15th August we descended to the Snow lake and camped at the divide of the two main glaciers. Here the party broke into three, and we were never again reunited until the end of the summer, in Gilgit.

Shipton, Fountaine and Secord descended the Biafo glacier to Askole, where Secord left them and returned to Kashmir. From Askole Shipton and Fountaine, with three weeks' food, proceeded up the Panmah, where they carried out a remarkably successful exploration and survey of the exceedingly complicated and difficult region enclosing the Panmah, Nobande Sobande, Chiring and Ghoktoi glaciers. The lower Panmah is typical of most of the valleys of the district. It is desolate and barren, and its bed is filled with gravel and mud deposits, with large alluvial fans split up by the present streams into high cliffs and deep gorges. Typical also are the frequent oases: grassy glades, willow and rose thickets irrigated by spring water. The largest of these is the grazing ground of Panmah, which is about 12 miles up the valley, at the snout of the glacier.

On 25th August Shipton began a photographic survey of the Panmah, using the Zeiss light phototheodolite. After a successful beginning the party were overtaken by a spell of bad weather and confined for three days to a camp opposite the junction of the Ghoktoi glacier with the Panmah. The delay was made good use of by Angtharkay, who shot several ibex which kept them well supplied with meat for the next three weeks. As soon as the weather cleared they continued the survey up the main glacier to its junction with the Chiring. From here Fountaine, with two sherpas, followed the Chiring glacier to its head, where they climbed without difficulty a high col overlooking the Sarpo Laggo glacier. The pass he was on (the long-sought 'New Mustagh Pass') affords a very easy means of communication across the main Asiatic watershed; certainly the quickest and easiest route between Askole and the Shaksgam river. From the summit of the pass he had a fine view of Skyang Kangri (staircase), K2, Broad peak and the Gasherbrum peaks, besides the Latok group, Kanjut and other giants to the west. Shipton meanwhile climbed a 19,600-foot summit north of the Ghiring, commanding a magnificent view of the whole district and providing him with an admirable survey station. The following two days he ascended two other peaks, one above the Drenmang glacier with a view up the Nobande Sobande, and one west of the Panmah.

On Fountaine's return, the whole party moved down the main glacier again, surveying en route. After camping one night on the right bank of the Choktoi they entered the upper basin of this glacier, where they were confronted with the stupendous granite peaks of the Latok group, standing a sheer 7,000 feet above the glacier. One after another the ice spires crowning the knife-sharp ridges of Baintha Brakk ('Ogre') and its surrounding peaks flicked into view, brilliantly translucent in the afternoon sun. The walls flanking the glacier were so steep and unbroken that it was with difficulty they reached a point high enough for a suitable station. After completing the survey of the Choktoi they moved camp to the crest of a col between the Choktoi and the Nobande Sobande, which had been crossed by Desio's party on the Duke of Spoleto's expedition in 1929. The col afforded an excellent position for a survey station. On 9th September Shipton, with Angtharkay and Kusang, abseiled down an overhanging ice slope north of the col and descended to the Nobande Sobande.

Having acted as human belays for Shipton's party, Fountaine and Lhakpa Tensing descended to the Choktoi and entered a deep gorge formed by sheer granite cliffs where they camped for the night. In the morning they discovered that the gorge connected with a large alley leading from still higher up the main glacier at a point beneath an impossible ice-fall. By climbing on to a broad ice shelf they were able to reach a steep ice ridge, up which they cut steps for 500 feet to the summit of a col; thence they were able to descend without difficulty to the Snow lake, and on the following day arrived at the food dump left by Fazal Ellahi.

In the meantime Shipton and his two sherpas spent two days on the Nobande Sobande finishing off the survey. They then crossed a col at the head of the glacier which led them back to the Snow lake. The descent on the west side of the pass proved a difficult one owing to a steep ice slope, down which the loads had to be lowered from ledge to ledge. On 11 th September, in drifting cloud and snow, they crossed the Snow lake, rejoining Fountaine and Lhakpa Tensing at the dump.

On the break-up of the expedition into three parties after our crossing of the Hispar pass, surveyor Fazal Ellahi, with four sherpas and his personal servant (a Punjabi), began a plane-table survey of the whole Biafo glacier, including its enormous upper basin which comprises the Lukpe Lawo (Snow lake). For the next six weeks Fazal Ellahi was left almost entirely to his own resources. It is a great tribute to the skill and energy of this very fine surveyor that in so short a period he managed to cover 200 sq. miles of very high and most intricate country on his plane-table, with remarkable accuracy and speed, and without a single mishap to any of his party. His final map, part of which was checked by Shipton on the ground, not only proved to be extremely accurate, but as an example of topographical drawing in the field is without exception the neatest and most beautifully drawn I have ever seen.

Russell and I, with sherpas Gyalgen and Gyalgen Mikchi, comprising the third offshoot of our Snow lake base, set off southwards towards a gap in the tremendous rock wall that hems in the Biafo on the west, with the intention of crossing Tilman's pass over to the much-discussed region of the Sokha ('cornice') and Solu ('garden') glaciers. A few days before our departure Shipton and Russell had reconnoitred the approach to the pass, but we were still not at all certain that it was the same col as Tilman had crossed. The first day, having pitched camp at the foot of the pass, we continued a mile or two down the Biafo to examine another inlet that looked as if it might provide a more promising route. At the head of this valley a cirque of glaciers clung fanwise in a desperate effort to gain a hold on the sheer cliffs above. One look was sufficient to remove any hope of an alternative route in this direction. Early next morning, therefore, we began the climb to Tilman's col (now called Sokha La). Crossing first the tumbled debris of an avalanche, we reached a wide bergschrund protected by a curtain of stalactites, through which Russell, with methodical vandalism, smashed a path, enabling us each in turn to climb down on to an ice shelf within the bergschrund, and then out again on the far side. The slope above was very steep, and, with our heavy packs, necessitated some hard step-cutting by Russell. On arriving at the summit of the col it had been my intention to make a plane-table fix as a starting-point for the map of the Sokha, but the view to the east was hidden by low clouds, and it began to snow and sleet. The valley into which we looked down was scarcely a mile in width and hemmed in by cliffs, whose jagged summits soared 5,000 feet above the moraine-covered ice of the glacier. Two miles west of the pass the glacier took an abrupt turn to the south, and its lower reaches were lost to view behind a precipitous bluff. Directly opposite us was another low col unscalable from the north, but which was probably the saddle reached by the Workmans from the Sosbon. From the top of this col, the outlet of the glacier would have been screened by the bulge of the rock bluff, which may have given rise to the fable of an enclosed glacier, though it is hard to understand how anyone could have made so emphatic a claim without further investigation.

The descent from the pass gave no trouble, and we camped that evening on a bed of dry grass, the first we had seen for ten days. There followed a busy week botanizing and surveying in as intricate a piece of country as one could find anywhere. A characteristic feature of the Sokha was a remarkable cirque of Gothic pinnacles standing at the head of a steep ice fall. I was to meet these pinnacles again two weeks later, when I viewed their southern face from the head of the west arm of the Sosbon glacier.

The lower slopes of the Sokha and Solu glaciers were well covered with vegetation and a variety of wild flowers. Blue geraniums, aconites and forget-me-nots mingled with the yellow of dwarf poppies and scarlet hedysarums. An abundance of juniper and willow grew in the ablation valleys and on the hillsides, providing us with all the fuel we required. In the ablation valleys we found many fresh bear tracks; in the Solu I came across the recent lair of a bear who had carved out a comfortable home in the middle of a clump of salix. The fertility of these two valleys provided Russell with a magnificent field for his botanical work, and formed a large contribution to the collection of over one thousand plants which he acquired during the summer.

The survey of the Sokha and Solu glaciers was rendered extremely difficult by both the total absence of any control points, and the steepness and narrowness of the valleys. In order to begin the survey at all I was obliged to lay out a base of estimated length; and extend this into a graphical triangulation by means of a Wild telescopic alidade. Using this self-made control, I filled in the detail to an assumed scale and a relative system of heights; contours being shown at first by form-lines. By climbing to a high station at the junction of the glaciers, I succeeded in connecting the survey to two distant points above the Hispar, which established the correct values for scale and height. Azimuth was obtained by sighting the alidade on Polaris at a computed time, and making a graphical allowance for its variation from true north. Later the whole map was redrawn to the true scale, and the form-lines converted into contours by reference to the Hispar control points. The result is less accurate than our other surveys, but forms an adequate map of the area which could not have been achieved by any other method in the short time at our disposal.

Five miles north of the divide between the two glaciers the Solu takes a sharp turn to the east, and for the final 2 miles at its head runs parallel to the Sokha, from which it is divided by a ridge some 19,000 feet high. There is a fairly low saddle at the head of the Solu which is probably that first climbed by Tilman from the Snow lake. The tremendously steep ice-fall below the saddle destroys any possibility of its use as a pass, though with changing ice conditions, it might at some future date prove to be crossable. Whereas the Sokha col presents no real difficulties, there would seem no particular advantage other than interest in attempting the Solu col.

On 27 th August we moved down to the snout of the Solu, where there is a small grazing village known as Dabadas, the first habitation we had seen since leaving Hispar a month before. As soon as I had rounded off the survey we followed down the Kuschuchan Lungma river to its junction with the Basha valley near Arandu. In a series of hot marches we reached Askole three days later by way of the Basha and Braldu valleys. At Askole Russell left me, and proceeded up the Biafo to join Shipton on the Snow lake, where they carried out some further exploration, including the discovery of a high pass (19,500 feet) over the main watershed to the head of the Khurdopin. Unfortunately they were unable to make use of this col owing to the necessity of having to evacuate the dumps down the Hispar.

At Askole I received a very rude shock in the form of a telegram from Secord (sent by runner) which read: 'Srinagar September 3rd— German Polish war outbreak. Russo-German treaty. Campbell.' Here was the end of all our hopes and absorbing plaiis for the winter. I returned the vile missive to its envelope and sent a porter with it to catch up Russell's party.

Fountaine was to have joined me at Askole. After waiting three days in vain for his arrival, I left a note with the Lombardar of the village and set off down the Braldu with Gyalgen and three local porters. At Chokpiong we struck up the Hoh Lumba valley and made an initial camp a mile below the snout of the Sosbon glacier, near the flourishing grazing village of Nangmoni Tapsa, which provided us with a goat for the sum of three rupees. Next morning we climbed to the top of a high ridge, south of the Hoh Lumba, that overlooks the whole area of the Sosbon and Hoh Lungma glaciers and their two main tributaries, the Tsilbu and Chongahanmung. From this very fine view-point I was able to see nearly all the high peaks surrounding the upper Hispar and LukpeLawo, including the distinctive twin summit of Kanjut Sar (25,460 feet) and the graceful spire of Braintha Brakk. Near by, the gaunt faces of Ganchen (21,000 feet) and its brother peak Hikmul rose in a direct challenge of bare rock and ice from the main arm of the Hoh Lungma. Immediately below the ridge where I was standing an unmapped glacier (Ghongahanmung) drained into a delta of mud flats and channels beside the lateral moraine of the Hoh Lungma. On the north the broken moraine of the Sosbon split into two curving tentacles that embraced a pear-shaped 'peninsula' of rock, covered on its lower slopes with scrub and showing patches of snow and ice on top. The eastern arm of the Sosbon followed directly beneath an un-named giant of 21,000 feet forming part of the main ridge between the Sosbon and Biafo. I was able to get a really sound fixing from this excellent station, which kept me fully occupied for six hours taking rays to the multitude of detail that surrounded me on every side.

Unfortunately the weather broke, and for five days we had a period of snow and mist with scarcely a break. Ganchen's summit remained obdurately hidden in cloud, and without its use it was almost impossible to continue with the survey. We moved camp to the edge of a small lake that lies just west of the divide between the Sosbon and Hoh Lungma. By September 14th the weather showed signs of clearing, and I was able to begin work again. From a varied pattern of grey and brown the landscape had changed in the past few days to a shimmering wilderness of virgin white: winter had arrived with unexpected suddenness. It was bitterly cold on the tops, with a chill wind that made plane-tabling a most unpleasant occupation.

For some time I had been troubled by an irritable rash that covered my legs and the lower part of my body. While we were on the Snow lake it had largely disappeared, but the hot marches in the Braldu valley had brought it out again worse than ever. The irritation was so bad that I was sleeping scarcely at all at nights. By the time I reached the Sosbon my meagre supply of medical dressings was exhausted, and in many places the spots had gone septic and turned into large sores from which the poison had spread up into my groin. Walking and climbing became acutely painful, and I began to wonder, if Fountaine failed to turn up, how I was going to get back to Gilgit.

On completion of the Hoh Lungma survey, I moved camp to the Sosbon divide, where I paid off one of the two local men who had accompanied me from Askole. Our one small Meade tent had to accommodate the remaining local, Gyalgen and myself, which tested its elasticity to the limit. From this camp I was able to reach another excellent station by climbing to the summit of the peninsula ridge, where I obtained a magnificent view across the Sokha pinnacles to Kanjut Sar in the distance. I discovered that the two pincer glaciers of the Sosbon are divided only at their head by a very narrow vertical rock wall, where they almost meet. There appeared to be a complicated tangle of sharp ridges at the source of the eastern of the two glaciers, which I was unfortunately never able to sort out owing to the inclement weather and my state of health.

At last, on 19th September, a message arrived from Fountaine, who was encamped at Nangmoni Tapsa, having reached there three weeks later than planned. My legs by this time were in very bad shape and the journey down the glacier will long remain in my memory as one of the most painful and unpleasant days I have ever spent.

The original plan had been that Fountaine and I should work together for the remaining three or four weeks of the summer programme in the exploration and mapping of the Kero Lungma and Chogo Lungma glaciers. It was hoped to return to Gilgit by way of a high col below Haramosh peak, leading from one of the branches of the Chogo Lungma. The saddle had been sighted by Dr. Workman in 1903 ; he later suggested it as a possible means of communication between Arandu and the Indus valley. The condition of my legs made my early return to Gilgit essential, and necessitated a considerable modification of our plans. An additional reason for cutting short our stay was that our funds were running dangerously low. It was therefore decided that Fountaine should proceed up the Chogo Lungma, and make a bid for the Haramosh pass, while I returned, as soon as I was well enough to travel, by the longer and easier route via the Ganto La to Rondu in the Indus valley, and thence across the Harpo La to Astor. Lhakpa Tensing, who for some time had been suffering from a dental abscess, was sent down to Skardu for treatment with directions to rejoin me in the Basha valley for the return journey to Gilgit.

On 22nd September Fountaine, accompanied by Gyalgen and Kusang, started up the Hoh Lungma and made for a saddle I had seen during the survey north of Hikmul peak at the head of the Tsilbu. After cutting a way up a steep ice slope covered by a thin layer of loose snow, negotiating two difficult bergschrunds, some rocks and a steep gully, they reached the top of the col (18,000 feet), whence they had a fine view up the Chogo Lungma to Haramosh. A steep descent of 8,000 feet brought them down to Bisil in the Basha valley, which they followed up for 4 miles. Unfortunately the rope bridge across the river to Arandu was down, and there was no hope of fording the roaring torrent of the Basha river. Further progress up the left bank of the river was also barred by another stream, the Kero Lungma, almost as turbulent. An attempt to ford the latter was unsuccessful; so Fountaine decided to camp for the night and make a second attempt in the morning, when the night frosts above the snow line might have caused a diminution in the volume of water. At daybreak, with an alpine rope attached to his waist, Fountaine pushed forward into the current. The flow was extremely forceful and the water waist high, besides being intensely cold as it came directly from the glacier. By the time he was approaching the opposite bank all sensation in his legs had gone, and it was difficult to judge where his feet were resting on the bottom. Eventually he reached the support of a protruding rock, and succeeded in pulling himself through shallower water to dry land. He then held the rope while the sherpas crossed in a similar manner.

From Arandu they travelled up the Ghogo Lungma keeping to the ablation valley on its left bank where there was ample wood for the sherpas to prepare a large quantity of tsampa (roasted flour) for use in the high camps. The third day they crossed to the southern side of the glacier and camped on a rocky outcrop at 14,000 feet. Only a short distance above this camp there entered from the left a tributary glacier which appeared to run uniformly upwards for about 8 miles where it ended in the col seen by the Workmans. Another day was spent weaving a route in and out of the intricate maze of crevasses up this glacier as far as the limit of the bare ice, where they camped at 15,000 feet. Progress the following day rapidly deteriorated and they were soon knee, and at times thigh, deep in snow. Such conditions at a height of 16,000 feet under a burden of 50-60 lb. loads were intensely fatiguing and made frequent rests essential. After negotiating some giant crevasses at the top of the last steep slope, they gained the crest of the pass after a long and very exhausting day. On the far side the rock face gave the impression of dropping almost sheer for 4,000 feet, while the true valley glacier, forming the slopes of Haramosh peak, hung suspended about 200 yards to the left. At the foot of the precipice below them was a short stretch of grass that suddenly entered a golden belt of fading willows and silver birch with beyond a dark belt of conifers. In the distance lay a blue mass of hills, gentle and warm with no sign of snow. The whole scene was a superb mass of colour, inviting, safe and hospitable. Despite the fact that there was no obvious route of descent, and it was by then 4 o'clock in the afternoon, they decided to try to reach this tempting valley below. For the first hour the going was very steep, over loose rock and patches of soft snow. Before long they were menaced by falling stones that began to bounce round them on all sides; both Fountaine and Kusang were hit, the former ducking just in time to save his head, and the latter being struck in the back, where the padding of his rucksack saved him from injury. Just before nightfall they managed to reach the first grass, on which they were able to camp. In the morning an ice avalanche swept 4 miles down the valley, missing their camp by only 100 yards. From the Haramosh valley they completed the march to Gilgit in three days along the desert valleys of the Indus and Gilgit rivers.

The whole party, reunited after many weeks, spent a month in Gilgit undecided at first whether to carry on with our winter plans or return to Kashmir. A telegram was dispatched to the Government of India offering our services in any capacity. At the end of four weeks we received the reply: 'Have no suggestions.' This merely added to our dilemma, since obviously no one was anxious for our return. It seemed, however, unthinkable to continue with our plans in the constant knowledge that our families and friends and even the very source of our existence were in mortal danger. Reluctantly, therefore, we turned our backs on Shimshall and took the road back to civilization and total war.

At least we had the satisfaction of a successful summer. 1,600 sq. miles of very difficult country had been well mapped, and the geographical problems of the Snow lake and the country surrounding its attendant glaciers had been cleared up once and for all. A number of interesting new passes had been discovered and crossed, opening up routes which should be of assistance to future travellers in this region. Russell's very large collection of plants, added to his physiological research, formed a notable contribution to the expedition's results.

Above all, we could look back on six months of absorbing interest and delectable endeavour that not even the shadow of the Nazi spectre could ever snatch from our memory.

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