SUPPLEMENTS

 

1. DIAMIR SIDE OF NANGA PARBAT, RECONNAISSANCE 1939
2. ESCAPE TO LHASA, 1944-5

 

 

IN the course of four expeditions between 1932 and 1938 it had become apparent that the Rakhiot route, while being compara¬tively easy, at least up to the final ridge, was dangerous on account of avalanches. Actually only one of the two disasters that had occurred was caused by an avalanche, but on other occasions there had been narrow escapes, even in 1938 when all the movements had been worked out by Paul Bauer with great caution. Bauer, there¬fore, had sent two members of his 1938 expedition, U. Luft and the late S. Zuck, to the Diamir valley in order to get a near view of that side of the mountain as a possible alternative route. The reports and photographs they brought back, together with photographs taken from an aeroplane, seemed to encourage a more thorough investiga¬tion, the more so as Finsterwalder's map showed that such a route was only about one-third the length of that of the Rakhiot side.

The party which was to make this reconnaissance, in the summer of 1939, consisted of H. Harrer (Graz), one of the Eiger north face team, L. Chicken (Bozen), H. Lobenhoffer (Bamberg), and myself (Kitzbuhel). In Bombay Chicken fell ill and had to remain behind for medical treatment, while we others continued our journey to Rawalpindi. There three Darjeeling Bhotias joined us, and after a few days of rearranging our sixty or so loads, we started on nth May by car. In Balakote our luggage was taken up by local coolies and we followed the road up the Kaghan valley. Above Gittidas Gilgit scouts came to meet us and, after crossing the pass, we reached Babusar, the summer headquarters of Lt. Strover, the Assistant Political Agent, who accompanied us down to Chilas. From there we followed our caravan, which had gone via Thak bridge, to Bunar rest house where we stayed for several days to set apart a number of loads for our proposed excursion to Rakaposhi later on. For the transport of our luggage porters came down from the Bunar district to meet us, and proved somewhat troublesome.

On the way from Bunar rest house to Halala we had our first near view of the main summit of Nanga Parbat, rising a sheer 20,000 feet above our viewpoint. From Halala our route, which had already been reconnoitred by Harrer, crossed the Bunar river, and leaving behind the village of Dimroi we followed a path up the gorge-like valley of the Diamirai river as far as Ser, the last village, beautifully situated on a high shelf. On the next day, after an easy ascent to the summer pasture of Kachar and past the snout of the Diamir glacier, we reached a suitable place for our Base Camp, at about 4,100 metres, on the right side of the glacier just opposite the Dia¬mir peak (1st June). To make our base comfortable we built a hut as a store-house.

After a few days we started for a first reconnaissance, ascending the slope of the Ganalo ridge to about 5,800 metres, from where we had a fine view of the superb but sombre mountain scenery which Nanga Parbat presents from this side.
The first thing to attract our attention was a glacier coming down the slope of the north peak of Nanga Parbat along the ridge connect¬ing this with the Ganalo peak and forming the uppermost source of the Diamir glacier. This glacier had been recommended to us for closer examination, but apart from its hazardous approach up the narrow trough of the Diamir glacier (in which Mummery disappeared with his two Gurkhas), it is swept crosswise in many places by ava¬lanches from both sides, so we ruled it out at once as a practicable route. Although the incline is somewhat less severe than the rest of the Nanga Parbat wall, it is steep enough for avalanches, and there is no break or suitable place for a camp. Besides, it breaks off with an ice-fall down to the Diamir glacier.

West of this glacier Nanga Parbat presents a wall with little relief, consisting mainly of gullies and very steep snow or ice slopes, while the ridges rise little above the general plane of the wall. As may be expected from such a mountain face, no obvious route pre¬sented itself at first sight, but after some time we thought we had found one by piecing it together bit by bit. Its most prominent feature was a rock 'pulpit' as we called it, forming the edge of a snow terrace. Starting from the Diamir glacier the route was to lead up a steep snow slope on to a rock ridge and from there over difficult rock and steep ice to this 'pulpit' and the terrace, which would be suitable for a camp. Behind the terrace there is a snow slope, which at times seemed to be blank ice, over which, on its western side, a rock ridge must be gained leading to a wide snow-field below the Bazin gap¹—also the goal of Mummery's party. These are only the bare outlines of this hypothetical route as I remember them without any notes at hand.

We returned to the Base Camp and after having completed preparations started once more, this time joined by Ghicken, who had arrived from Bombay recovered from his illness. Grossing the Diamir glacier we ascended a moraine ridge on the true left side of the great ice-fall which becomes the Diamir glacier and joins the main glacier. On this ridge we made Camp II, commanding a fine view down the glacier and out to the highest peaks of the Himalaya to the west.

 

Lobenhoffer did not feel well, and accompanied by Chicken, who, as a medical student, was our doctor, returned to the Base Camp. Harrer and I went farther up the ridge on which Camp II stood until we came to the level of the Diamir glacier proper. We crossed along the foot of the Nanga Parbat wall under the nose of several hanging glaciers whose greenish-white snouts looked down threateningly from their dark rock gullies. Not far from the big snow slope which was to be the beginning of our route we crossed over to the right side of the crevassed Diamir glacier, there being no suitable camping-ground at the foot of the Nanga Parbat wall. The place we chose was a nice one, lying near a scree slope of the dry ground of a lateral moraine. This camp, about 5,250 metres, compares favourably with the Camp II of the Rakhiot side of the same height.

From it Harrer and I started early in the morning, together with two Bhotias. Crossing the Diamir glacier we began the ascent by holding to the western side of the great snow slope below a high rock tower where some rocks jutted out from the ice. We hoped to gain height by climbing in places on these rocks, but they were, more difficult than they had seemed from afar. Nevertheless we could ascend fairly speedily along snow gullies between rocks, the snow being favourable, not too hard and not too soft. We were greatly aided by our crampons with twelve spikes, two of them horizontal. Finally we set out on the open slope, and traversing somewhat to its eastern side we climbed upwards, almost in the line of fall. The inclination of the slope was steep and our two porters disliked work of this kind. They complained bitterly, and it was clear that they would never again agree to set out on such a task.

Harrer, who was leading, steered for two small rocky patches which, though not rising much above the surface of the snow, promised a place for safe belaying and resting. Several times during the ascent falling stones came off the ridge and once or twice took the form of small rock avalanches. At the outset we had hoped to reach the rock ridge and therefore had prepared for a light bivouac, but with loaded porters we were a rather cumbersome party, and in view of these falling stones we decided to return. The height reached was about 5,900 metres; in a few hours we had climbed 650 metres. For the descent I followed Harrer's example by using a piton in one hand and an ice-axe in the other, thrusting them alternately into the hard snow while my feet found hold with the front spikes of the crampons. After reaching the base of the slope Harrer returned to the Base Camp where Lobenhoffer was still lying ill as ^reported by Chicken, who had come up to join us.

One or two days later I ascended the slope again with Ghicken to a point slightly higher than before, and after traversing some blank ice came to the rocks of the ridge, from the crest of which we were separated by only a few ropes' lengths. The rocks themselves were treacherous—wherever touched they broke away. We returned to the camp, but when Harrer and Lobenhoffer arrived next day the latter was still unwell, and, in view of the difficulties of the ascent, I decided to postpone a further attempt. During the night a tremen¬dous avalanche came down from the hanging glacier east of the great slope, and next morning, 20th June, as we were starting from Camp III, another avalanche crashed down from the hanging glacier west of the slope, but both were clear of the route.

When we arrived at Base Camp Lobenhoffer had to lie down at once. Fever, never much below 104° F. for many days, weakened him so alarmingly that we, and he himself, feared for his life. Later on, when he seemed a little better, we others climbed the Diamirai peak, on which Mummery and his party had been: There was a good side-view of the Nanga Parbat wall and the Bazin snow-field, which seemed of tolerable inclination. We suspected that Loben- hoffer's illness was connected with altitude, and planned to carry him down to Ser and, after his recovery, to go to Rakaposhi and give him an opportunity of regaining his old strength en route. At this time Lt. Strover came up to visit us in the Base Camp, having covered the distance from Halala in one day. To our great dismay we heard from him that Major Galbraith and his wife had been drowned in the Hunza river. We had received a letter from Major Galbraith in his capacity as Political Officer in Gilgit when he wrote, in friendly terms, that he personally saw no objection to our going to Rakaposhi.

As expected, Lobenhoffer recovered almost at once in Ser, and after a few days we descended to Bunar rest house. It turned out that we could not go to Rakaposhi after all, so we returned to the Diamir valley and to our Camp III, at the side of the Diamir glacier. On the way between Camps II and III lay masses of avalanche snow which had come down after a snowfall during our absence. From Camp III Harrer and Lobenhoffer made a last attempt to reach the rock ridge below the 'pulpit', and they succeeded, although the big snow slope had changed for the worse. At first accompanied by Chicken and myself, they went on alone on the rocks below the rock tower, and traversing blank ice for several ropes' lengths succeeded in overcoming the treacherous rocks of the ridge, the crest of which they reached in the afternoon. They had difficulty in finding a place on the narrow ridge for their small tent, and were not quite safe from falling stones which passed over their heads, hitting the ridge some distance away. According to Harrer, the rock above them, although difficult, looked feasible as far as they could see. They descended next morning, endangered several times by falling stones. The point they reached was about 6,000 metres.

The Diamir side of Nanga Parbat has the tempting advantage that, assuming its feasibility and the preparations of steps and pitons, it would allow height to be gained considerably more quickly than would the Rakhiot approach. The difficulties of this route are probably akin to some of the more difficult climbs in the Alps. Lobenhoffer compared it to the Sentinel Rouge, which he had climbed shortly before leaving for the Himalaya. A team of moun¬taineers, skilled and experienced in tackling difficulties of ice and rock of this kind, would probably prefer the Diamir route to that of the Rakhiot side. A team of at least seven climbers would be required, as some of them would probably have to prepare the way in order to leave a reserve for the final assault. The climbers would have to do a lot of load-carrying in addition, as only few porters would be willing and capable of going on such steep exposed rock and ice.

In these last days Chicken and I climbed the western Ganalo peak (approx. 6,400 metres), and had fine views of the Nanga Parbat wall and the upper part of the Diamir glacier, which now had an avalanche track over almost its whole length.

Up to the end of July the weather had been favourable, with only a few spells of really bad weather. But the higher reaches of Nanga Parbat were shrouded in mist almost every afternoon, probably causing snowfalls on the mountain.

When, at the end of July, we left our Base Camp for good, Loben¬hoffer and Harrer went with the bulk of the luggage via Bunar rest house to Rakhiot bridge, while Chicken and I made our way to the Rakhiot valley. During these days we had a lot of heavy rain. The Rakhiot side with its wide open spaces of glaciers and pastures impressed us deeply as being in marked contrast to the austere Diamir valley. The glaciers look easier than anything on the Diamir side, but when we climbed from the Base Camp of previous expedi¬tions to the memorial cairn carrying the many names of our dead friends on top of the big moraine near Camp I, the inevitable 'express train5, in the form of a huge ice avalanche, crashed down from the wall on to the glacier route to Camp II, throwing up an immense cloud of ice dust—an awe-inspiring but sinister warning, shattering the sunny peace of this unforgettable landscape.

Early August we paid a brief visit to the new summer residence above Nomal of the Political Officer Gilgit, where we discussed plans with Major Battye for a new expedition to the Diamir side. This, according to a letter received from the German Himalaya Founda¬tion, was planned for 1940. Chicken and I then travelled down the 190 miles to Bandipur as fast as my several attacks of malaria would allow. In Srinagar we met Harrer and Lobenhoffer and together we hurried on to catch our Hansa boat in Karachi, which, however, never arrived. In those anxious days my comrades attempted a rush to Persia, but were caught in Las Bela. At the outbreak of war we were interned and by autumn 1941 eventually came to a camp in Dehra Dun.

 

 

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IN April 1944 seven of us escaped from the prisoners-of-war camp at Dehra Dun and two got away by railway, while Harrer, Kopp, Sattler, Treipel, and I made for Tibet via Nelang (11,000 feet). Sattler was affected by the altitude and returned to Dehra Dun. From Nelang, which is about 50 miles west-north-west of Trisul, we set our course north-west for the Sutlej, which we reached at a point about 100 miles south of Hanle.¹ The local Jongpons were distinctly embarrassed by our presence, but helped us with food, and sent us under escort as far as the Shipki pass. From Shipki, with its 'Simla— 200 miles', under the circumstances a reassuring sign, we marched down the beautifully engineered but unfrequented road to the iron suspension-bridge spanning the Sutlej. Here, on 17th June, Treipel turned back to India, Harrer and Kopp went off to investigate the Spiti valley, in which Schmaderer² was killed in 1945 after his second escape, and I recrossed the Sutlej by a wooden bridge higher up and turned north over the Budbud La. A few days later I was rejoined by Harrer and Kopp, and we journeyed on together towards the Indus. On the way we met many nomads with thousands of sheep, and the wide plains we traversed were showing the first green and were pasturing herds of kiang. Farther north we crossed a range into Ladakh, and came down to the Indus at Trashigong. Here again the officials did not rejoice at our arrival, but they took no effective steps to stop us from going on to Gartok, where negotiations began in a friendly atmosphere. The Garpons agreed to provide us with a lamyig (passport) to the border of the district at Gyabnak, where we were to turn south for Nepal, and also surprised us with welcome presents of dried meat, sampa, and butter. We had to wait eleven days in Gartok before we set off on 14th July accompanied by a servant and three baggage yaks. Between Gartok and Lake Man- sarowar were occasional tazam³ houses and many nomad settlements with innumerable yaks. We were not allowed to make the 'sacred journey' around Lake Kailas, but we wandered along the lake shore, where the dominating feature of the scenery was Gurla Mandhata, towering with huge precipices and ice-falls, a sheer 10,000 feet above the turquoise-blue lake. With a party of traders from Garhwal we continued our eastern journey. Having crossed several streams which united to become the Tsangpo, already a surprisingly wide river, our party arrived at Gyabnak, the terminal of our lamyig, on 8th August. Gyabnak, a single building on the Tsangpo, is the headquarters of the chief local administrative official, styled the Bong Pa Ghikyap. After a few days of waiting here a messenger arrived to summon us to Tradiin, where two Lhasa officials of high standing were said to be awaiting us.

 

On 12th August we reached Tradiin, and after lengthy discus¬sions with the officials, agreed to send our application for permission to remain in Tibet to their Government; this was asked for on the grounds of Tibet's neutrality. Pending the arrival of a reply the officials arranged for us to remain in Tradiin and gave us such generous presents that we were free of worry for many weeks to come. It took over four months to get a lamyig for the next part of our jour¬ney, and throughout this period we were not allowed to go more than a day's march away. However, there were varied interests in Tradiin, which is a cross-roads of trade-routes, used by many cara-vans. These mostly carry tea from China, and apricots and gur (rough sugar) from Ladakh. Everything is neatly packed in hide containers. From the north herds of up to 500 sheep carry salt to the south, crossing the Tsangpo by ferries at which salt-tax is col¬lected. The chronicles of the golden-spired Gompa say: 'Lying at the centre of a circle of gleaming white snow peaks it has magnificent views towards Nepal and also to the north'—unfortunately all the high mountains were out of bounds, but we never got tired of behold¬ing them, even from afar, those giants, Dhaulagiri, Annapurna, and Manaslu and, to the north-east, that most beautiful peak Lungpo Kangri, striking in its isolation.

In November, tired of waiting, Harrer and I made an attempt to go eastward, but were frustrated by wolves, who killed and ate two of our pack sheep on our first night out. On our return to Tradiin we found Kopp, just on the point of leaving for Nepal, and shortly after he had left us we were visited by a most solemn delegation, headed by the Bong Pa Chikyap. They informed us that Lhasa had at last sent our lamyig for Kyirong, and we began this journey on 17th December, with riding horses and servants.

Grossing and recrossing the frozen Tsangpo we reached the impor¬tant settlement of Dzongka Dzong on Christmas Eve. Dzongka, about 150 miles west-north-west of Tingri Dzong, appears to be on the head-waters of the Trisuli Ganga which flows south to join, eventually, other affluents of the Ganges. Owing to the heavy snow¬falls we had to wait here for nearly a month, until the track leading down the valley was trodden hard by dzo, and it was 25th January before we arrived at Kyirong. Here the Dzong authorities had ex¬pected us to go on to Nepal, but they allowed us to remain with them, so we stayed for ten long months, until November 1945. Kyirong means 'Village of Happiness’, and we found this was no misnomer, for topography, climate, and the activities of a healthy people combine to form a landscape of rare beauty and harmony. We thoroughly explored the neighbouring district. In the valley shaped by the action of glaciation there are villages, as lovely as any in the Alps, with their wooden houses and well-cultivated fields, while on the slopes, the forests of oak, pine, and rhododendron are as varied and beautiful as those in Sikkim. Directly above, and on all sides, superb snow peaks raise their heads to great heights. Riwo Pamba, 22,500 feet, stands in the western background like a great altar, and Sherkam Kang, 24,500 feet, and Ganesh, 22,000 feet, form a massive bastion to the south-west. To the south-east rises Dayabhang, 23,750 feet, with its splendid satellites, Leru Kang and Rasuva, both over 22,000 feet. There are about thirty villages in the district, Kyirong being the largest, with a mixed population of about 1,000 Tibetans and Nepalese. There is a lively barter trade of salt against rice, and in the autumn some 1,500 sheep are sent to Nepal for the Dasehra festival. Pilgrim traffic goes on between Kyirong and the Nepalese province of Dzum, on the border of which is Khatmandu. At first we were restricted to within a few miles of Kyirong, and we used to spend much of our time ski-ing on ski made of birch wood by the local carpenter, but in June we were informed that we were to leave by the Ninth Tibetan Month (October) and from then on we were given more latitude. Among other places we visited the district of Lande, where butter is produced on a large scale in five-foot-high churns, worked in shifts, four men to a churn. Nearly all our explora¬tions were made with the object of planning a route for our projected escape to Lhasa, for we had no intention of trying to go to Nepal. We failed to find a practical route across the ranges to the east, though we had heard of a pass leading directly to the district of Pungrong, which would have enabled us to avoid returning to Dzongpa.

We set out on 8th November, working our way upstream by night, and turning eastward from Dzongpa, which we by-passed, into Pungrong. A lot of snow had fallen and fuel was scarce, but at Trakchen, headquarters of the District, though the officials fought shy of us, we could buy everything we wanted, including a yak. We took the opportunity of sketching the magnificent panorama of the Pungrong Range with Gosainthan and Lapelli Kang in the back¬ground. From Trakchen a long march took us to Menkhap Me, and next day we had a glorious view of Mount Everest and Cho Oyu. In the midday light the yellow band and the couloir below the sum¬mit of Everest were clearly seen. From Menkhap Me we steered for the north, on a course which we held for about 150 miles, till we reached the Tsangpo once again at Trashigang. We crossed by an iron chain bridge to Riwoche, an important place of pilgrimage with temples and a sixty-foot chorten.

From there we continued north to the Pe La, and a! the village of Zang Zang Gewu, on the far side of the pass, made friendly contact with the inhabitants, among them a near relative of the late sirdar Narsang, who died just after Bauer's second expedition to Kanchen- junga.¹ Through his good offices we completed our food reserves and kit, and exchanged our grumpy Pungrong yak Ibr a tall strong animal before setting out into the desolate province of Ghungthang. We did not dare to ask him for information about tin route to Lhasa, but we had reached the limit of our maps. When we prepared them in the internment camp we never dreamt we would get so far north.

We left Gewu, which is on the tazam road, 011 »nd December, with our new yak going like a train, and climbed to the Drong La. From there it was to be thirty-four hard days to tin Guring La, 80 miles from Lhasa.

The scenery was as bleak and desolate .is anything we had ever seen. The wide flat dreary plateau was covered with snow—the fine weather broke, and arctic weather set in with snowfalls and strong north winds. Average day temperateres were less than — 20° Centi¬grade (36° Fahrenheit below freezing -point), and Harrer developed frost bite. We were informed that ‘to the east, there are many passes, but no Khampas' while 'to the north, there are many Khampas, but no passes' (Khampa is the local word for robber), and as we marched north we found this to be true. Being, of course, unarmed, we had some narrow escapes.

The nomad inhabitants who often sheltered us at nights in their tents were friendly and hospitable. Their chief occupation during the winter months seemed to be cooking and eating meat at all hours of the day in every form. For the most part they eat wild animals rather than sheep.

When we asked our way to Lhasa people were still inclined to point us on to China, but prices had been much higher than we had expected, and there was no question of going to China. Even Lhasa was doubtful.

Part of the way we travelled with a yak caravan returning from Kailas, and at a settlement called Trazang we met an official. After laborious perusal of our two-year-old lamyig he seemed to be satis¬fied and arranged a guide for us. We left him next day and went on in snowdrift and strong wind to Nyatshang, where we should have liked to spend New Year, but we ran into a high official travel¬ling with several hundred loads, and he offered to take us on with him and let us use the Government transport for a small fee. From the Dam La we had our first view of the Nyenchhenthanglha Peak, one of the mighty landmarks of the Tibetan uplands, and in Lholam our gallant yak, who by now was completely exhausted, was stolen from us in the night.

On 4th January, over the high Guring La, where we joined a much-used route from the western gold-fields and descended to the plain on which Lhasa stands, we said farewell to that endless in¬hospitable land, the Changthang nyinje mepa, the 'pitiless' as it is called in Tibetan legend. From it we have brought many memories of unexpected adventure, and the kindness of quiet, stolid people.

The total expenses for the two of us for 21 months had been 2,000 rupees (£150). On 15th January 1946 we arrived in Lhasa, our sheepskin coats in tatters, almost barefoot, with one tola of gold sewn into my rags, one and a half rupees in our pockets, and all our belong¬ings on a donkey.

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