IN SIKKIM—THE TENT PEAK

E. GROB

(This account was received from Grob's brother in Switzerland together with a book about the expedition, published in Munich in 1940, which is reviewed later in this number. The account has been translated as it stands, with only minor omissions, in order to give the vividness of the original. It was written at the Base Camp in July of 1939, after the successful attack on the Tent peak {24,165 feet). It should be mentioned that from their first attempt, above Camp II, they had been forced to retire owing to the fall and broken leg of the porter Kandova (20th May). One point in the account worth querying is the statement that the Lachen natives cannot stand the cold. The experience of the majority of Himalayan travellers in Sikkim is very much the reverse.

On arrival back in Gangtok after this expedition the ‘Drei im Himalaja' were greeted with the news that war had broken out. Grob, a Swiss, was allowed to pass through to his country. Schmaderer and Paidar were interned. Ed.)

Base Camp, 5th July 1939.

THE Tent peak, 7,363 metres, has had an ice-axe planted upon its head. Yes, this mighty ice and rock peak, which had hitherto repulsed haughtily every attempt, was the chief goal of our expedition. Even Gottner and Wien,¹ gallant climbers that they were, had to give up the attempt. Hard struggles and privations lie behind us; yet we can scarcely believe our luck, that wc have overcome this most powerful bastion of Kangchenjunga. . . .

On the 23rd May, after settling the formalities connected with the unfortunate Kandova, we were ready to come to grips with the Tent peak. We really wanted to march on the 23rd, but there was still so much to be done. Also, Pansy (Ang Tsering II) appeared suddenly in my tent to announce four Englishmen. We found that they were four English officers from Delhi way, who had come up with a number of Lachen natives and a 'house tent', and planned to spend some days by the Green lake. We were soon friends. We invited them to tea and gossiped pleasantly. They were pressing in their invitations for us to visit them at home.

In comparison with our friends, who were faultlessly clad, we with our beards, heavy boots, ice-axes, and half-worn-through clothes, looked like crumpled scarecrows. But we could entertain our guests well enough; we had everything at our disposal. A three and a half room stone house, excellent kitchen, German and English literature. We put one room for the night at the disposal of the Lachen natives, who cannot stand the cold. The Englishmen were especially interested in maps and books on the Sikkim Himalayas. They enjoyed themselves greatly, and accompanied us for an hour next day. First of all we strolled back by the Green lake, and came round into the Green lake glacier. Look! The Tent peak shone above us like a cloud mountain, proud in its beauty. So powerful was the impression it made that not one of us could say a word. Would we three ever stand up there, above the clouds, on this unearthly vision? Our four young friends darted hither and thither from boulder to boulder, and photographed us with the mountains behind. Only when our nailed boots dug into the upper Nepal Gap glacier did they leave us.

 

We reached Camp II, 6,000 metres, on the upper Nepal Gap glacier in the evening, tired out. Schmaderer and Paidar were still arranging the loads for the attempt. Our body of porters had seriously dwindled. Karma was accompanying the unfortunate Kandova to Gangtok. Pansy was at Base Camp. Four men instead of seven.

On the 24th May the real assault began. 11 was cloudy, unfriendly weather. Eight days before I had reconnoitred the route to the Nepal Gap with Illa, Ila, and Kandova. After wr had all crossed the glacier, riddled with hidden crevasses, the way lay up a slope of increasing steepness towards the Nepal Gap. In the middle was a breach which gave some difficulty to the heavily laden porters. We then moved over a rotten, dubious snow bridge. Two possible routes led to the Nepal Gap: left, a rock wall, right, an ice couloir. To minimize the risk of stone fall, half the party climbed the wall while Illa, Ila and I climbed the couloir; but I was deceived over the time required. The steps to be cut were endless. In my eagerness I had forgotten to put on a wind jacket, so that my shirt was wet through when I arrived with my porters under an ice gendarme armed with icicles. A gangway led us to the other side of the sentinel, and so to our comrades. An icy wind blew from the Nepal side; the porters could scarcely hold their loads. My wet shirt froze instantly, and Ilia lent me an old windjacket. We struggled together along the side of the sentinel, until we found a more sheltered spot for our Bivouac III. We had brought three tents, one tent each for Paidar and Schmaderer, the three orderlies, Ilia and myself. Schmaderer got everything ready with great skill to cook us each something hot, despite the strong wind.

The only way to the Tent peak leads over another 7,000-metre mountain, the Nepal peak. We were therefore committed to bringing our porter column as high as possible up the Nepal peak. On the 25th the weather was fine. Our Camp III was at 6,350 metres. Mount Everest and Makalu showed across Nepal in a strange yellow light. The kindly sun warmed our limbs. The porters dried the clothes, so that it was not until late in the morning that we set out. After two hours we came upon a crevasse which barred our way. We were compelled to pitch Camp IV on the spot, about 6,600 metres, and to cast about for a way through the ice wall. I was convinced that the only possible line was between the western Nepal wall and the northern glacier fall; I worked, therefore, some two hours with two axes, ice-hammers and pegs, until I reached the upper steep wall. Above me hung a dangerous hanging glacier and huge icicles. Paidar secured me from below and prepared a step- ladder for next day. We could therefore crawl into our tent with the consciousness that we could overcome this hindrance next morning. Schmaderer added to the ladder in the evening with pegs. On the morning of the 26th May we roped orderlies and baggage up the vertical wall. Later, a great deal of time was used up by the three climbers having to spend hours cutting many weary steps to bring the orderlies higher. Most of the way one of us cut only steps for the left foot, the other only for the right, to save time. Thus we were able, on the evening of the 26th, to pitch our tents at a height of 7,000 metres. Paidar and Schmaderer found a wind-free camping site under a peculiar bulging rock. We were now only three-quarters of an hour from the summit of the Nepal peak, and had before us an astounding view. Most of the mountains, like the Sugarloaf, Siniolchu and Simvu lay below us. With the Twins near Kangchenjunga we were already on terms of brotherly equality. Yet how much easier were these Nepal slopes to overcome in 1937! Under the conditions prevailing at the moment the Nepal peak was a difficult mountain. The porters were dead tired. Also, the high and exposed position seemed to have an effect on their morale. Ilia, an Everest 'tiger', grumbled that Everest was not so steep, and that here rasta kharab (the way is bad). But we could not help them; for us the Nepal peak was only the first stage, and that the easiest. We had to have up here tents, sleeping bags, food for several days, paraffin, &c.

The 27th was unkind. We three attempted the summit of the Nepal peak, by a long narrow ridge. The weather had improved. We stood on the small summit cone, 7,153 metres, and shook hands in the tradition of mountaineers. Ludwig declared proudly: It's a 7,000er.' We had a specially good view over Nepal, Tibet, North Sikkim. Fantastic clouds rose from the valleys like smoke banners. Kangchenjunga had lost something of its overpowering height. Savage Jannu raised its proud head rather more confidently. Apart from these, almost all the peaks lay below us. Even Makalu and Everest looked modest enough. We traced our route to the Tent peak through glasses. Our worst fears were confirmed. Right up to the true summit battlement there led a line of sharp, overhanging towers and steep walls, over 1 1/2 kilometres long. Besides this, between the Nepal and Tent peaks there were many downs and ups in height. But the biggest problem was the true summit battlement itself, consisting of ice grooves and granite rock likely to give difficult climbing. We took our leave of our fine mountain top, and returned to our tents.

We had fixed the morrow for the attempt. Our provisions were strictly rationed. It would be three days at least before we returned to our porters—perhaps longer. Not before live days were the porters to think of leaving. They saw that their sahibs had before them a serious task, and gave us an especially earnest farewell salaam the next morning.

28th May. We took with us all our most important equipment: two tents, ice-pitons, karabiner, hammers, cooker, some clothes and provisions, medicines, paraffin. We put on as much as we could, much underclothing, windjackets with hoods, warm-lined climbing boots with special crampons. We also took various energy foods in tablet form, such as Dextrin. The order on the rope was: Schmaderer, myself, Paidar. As the first man had most work to do his pack must be lightest. As middle man I had the heaviest load, and the complete high altitude tent in addition to everything else. Paidar brought the cooker. In about an hour we reached the Nepal peak summit. The weather was calm and fine. We stopped some minutes, and could observe the clouds seething in the depths. Then began the assault. First, we set to work on a slender tower. Schmaderer swung his axe and hurled overhanging pieces of the tower into (lie depths. Like rope dancers we wriggled ourselves forward. At first, further progress seemed a mad idea. Our boots found scarcely any grip, left and right were tremendous drops, while the crest itself was untrustworthy. But we were now quite determined to defy resistance. We continued along the ridge, and after 80 metres came to two great ice humps which barred the direct line. Ludwig hacked away their upper crest and scrambled up as if in his sleep. We must needs hurry now, to arrive by evening at the lowest saddle before the summit battlement of the Tent peak. The ridge traversing became harder and harder. The best safeguard had been to sit astride the ridge with axe dug in, but we had little time for that now. Should one of us fall on one side, the rest must be prepared to jump down the other. The view in all directions was terrible and beautiful. Kanchenjunga drew us more and more within its circle, and we experienced a strange joy at finding ourselves suspended here, over 7,000 metres up. Schmaderer, enchanted, shouted back: It's not like this in the Alps.' It was unimaginable: the finest mountains around us, far below, at 5,000 or 6,000 metres, a billowing sea of cloud while we stood on our narrow crest in bright sun. We had now come 200 metres and an ice tower barred our way. This should be surmounted by a steep wall on its right side, a very dangerous bit of climbing. Abutting it was a sharp downward ridge. Climbing down is the hardest part of all. We reached the saddle and Schmaderer immediately wriggled up on the other side. He found, unfortunately, that further direct progress along the ridge was impossible, as the ice was rotten. There was nothing for it but to climb left on to the very steep wall of the Nepal side. Ice pi tons in the left hand, axe in the right and special crampons on the feet made the climbing of the wall possible. I found my comparatively heavy rucksack exceedingly uncomfortable. Our toes and ankle-joints were chiefly in demand. We climbed on up northwards until we found a resting place under a rock. But we must go still farther. Back to the wall. Finally we were able to climb back on to the ridge, which had become somewhat broader, and continue north towards the Tent peak. But the saddle was still some way off, and that was where we wanted to pitch our tent. The going was now much easier, and after much climbing up and down we reached the saddle. An icy wind made a camping site impossible; we continued some way further towards the Tent peak, and cut a platform in a crevasse for our little tent. The sun was already set over Nepal. Ludwig cooked us something hot. Camp VI had the advantage of being sheltered, but the disadvantage of getting no sun in the morning. It was bitterly cold, but there was warmth in the comradeship in the tent. That night I slept in the middle, next night Schmaderer, and so on. What experiences we had had during the past day! What a wonderful spectacle the whole day, at a height of over 7,000 metres ! The memory of it would never leave me. The Tent peak might defeat us but we would fight, fight and experience. Yes, we were now well and truly in the Himalaya.

We spent a long time on the morning of the 29th May beating with ice-axes at our frozen boots before we could pull them on. We ascended the steep, iced slope, and arrived in hours at the great crux of the peak—the actual summit sweep. The tent and many other things we left in the crevasse; we took only the ‘Zarski sack' in case we should be unable to return that night. Unlike the day before, we experienced a sharp wind blowing from Nepal, while the cloud level was about 5,500 metres. Everything lay about us in an indescribable splendour, North Sikkim showing itself ever clearer.

Huge granite blocks leaned over us, making us wonder whether there could ever be a way through. Steep ice walls and ridges led up to them. One granite block stood in a steep gully, surrounded by gleaming ice. But Ludwig swung his axe, chipped some holds and climbed like a cat, clawing with his fingers on to the block, then up and over. Soon we were all three, after severe climbing, lodged in the ice and rock gully. How splendid now to be on the sunny side, and to be able to grip the warm granite with our hands! It was a proud and sublime feeling to be accomplishing difficult climbing at 7,200 metres. I was reminded suddenly of our climb on the Matter- horn. Feverishly we worked ourselves higher, and after some three- quarters of an hour reached the last rocks, leaving them to the right on the steep summit slope. The upper section was of delicate snow, and there was a danger of its coming away. But our determination was not now to be broken. We climbed this bit too, the slope eased somewhat and-5 minutes more to the highest point, 7,363 metres.

We were on the summit. We shook hands repeatedly, dug our axes into the snow and felt astonishment that it had been possible. The world lay at our feet; only Kangchenjunga still lorded it over us. It was as if all the changing pictures of'the past days had combined to form a single one of superlative beauty. To the north, North Sikkim and Tibet, where the mighty glaciers give out, and pastures and lakes yield an inadequate sustenance for sheep (sic). To the west, in Nepal, Mount Everest, highest mountain in the world, with his brother Makalu and so many storm-girt warriors around him. To the east and south we were greeted by the proud comrades of our second mountain home, Siniolchu, Simvu and Kangchenjunga, while far, far below on the Nepal Gap glacier must be our tiny tent. Far below us still, the faithful Pansy would be cooking his tsamba. A swelling sea of cloud allowed a hundred peaks to stand out like islands, and from this sea fantastic cloud banners raised themselves and reached along beside the highest tops. Far, far beyond the cloud sea lay our homes, and the lives of our dear ones. The sun and the Whitsun bells would even now be waking them—for to-day was Whit-Monday.

That night we passed uncomfortably in the high altitude tent. It was again a bitterly cold night, and we had had a difficult climb down. We had been compelled to leave a rope on the rock in the ice gully. Schmaderer's little finger suffered frostbite that night. As we said good-night the same thought was in all our minds, but none of us spoke it: Tf the weather is bad to-morrow or storm catches us on the ridge, we shan't get back.' In the middle of the night I distinctly heard my name called, and then again. It was as though someone wanted to warn me. Then I saw Schmaderer's ghostly figure swing his spear at cloud-reaching towers, then all was quiet again and then I heard the children's song: 'Droben steht die Kapelle. . . .'

The dark night was gone, and bright sun helped our return journey on the 30th to our waiting porters. A weary and perilous day lay behind us, when we reached Camp V at evening. Ilia, Pansy's brother, put up my tent with sleeping bag. But the porters had eaten all their rations, and we had practically nothing in our rucksacks and pockets. We must, therefore, on the next day try to get down to Camp II at 6,000 metres. But it turned out otherwise.

The 31st brought clouds and dark weather. It was extremely difficult to find the way. The porters were weak and uncertain. At one steep slope the snow had slipped off, so that we had to fix a long rope. Everything went terribly slowly, until at last we came to the vertical abseil wall. Here there was a longer delay. Then I led one party of two orderlies. They were so uncertain and hesitated so long that I went first and kicked steps. At the next steep slope Schmaderer suddenly called from above; it was half dark, but I saw two bodies with sacks shoot down the slope. I rammed my axe in hard. The 12-metre rope held, but the porters were unnerved for the remainder of the descent. Arjeeba fell into a crevasse. Paidar and Schmaderer pulled him out complete with pack. We stopped for the night near the crevasse and shared out our remaining crumbs. The great joy was that we still had paraffin.

The 1 st June was still gloomy, cloudy and dark. The descent was wearisome, but we arrived during the afternoon at Camp II, 6,600 metres, on the upper Nepal Gap glacier. How fortunate we were to be united here again. The orderlies spent an age cooking and eating, and then smoked like Turks. The 2nd brought us to the Base Camp. We crossed the upper Nepal Gap glacier on skis. It was an unaccustomed pleasure to be travelling on wood at 5,000- 6,000 metres.

This is my account of the past ten days. The climbing of the Tent peak was our hardest Himalayan expedition. We are now real weather-beaten Himalaya-men. I myself am undecided whether I shall come next time with ice-axe or botany box. Both have their charms. It is fascinating to see how everything in the lower regions awakens to new life. To observe men, beasts and plants in wonderful Sikkim, with perhaps two orderlies-how splendid! And then, through the primeval forests to ride to Lachen. . . .

Note.—Grob's porters were: Ang Tsering (Pansy), Sirdar, Ila, Arjeeba, Ila Tensing (? Ilia), Ang Karma, Gendin Bhutia, Kandawa (Kandova).—Ed.

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