SASER KANGRI EXPEDITION, 1956

LT.-COMDR. M. S. KOHLI, I.N.

Saser Kangri is an attractive mountain, 25,170 feet high, in the Eastern Karakorams with three satellites all above 24,000 feet; it reigns between the river valleys of Nubra and Shyok. Its nearest rival is Saltoro Kangri, 60 miles away to the North-West. It seemed comparatively unexplored from a mountaineering aspect and lay in Ladakh at the end of a long and interesting approach along the Central Asian trade route (to China and Russia), far from India. The late Nandu Jayal chose it as his target for the advance course of the Himalayan Mountaineering Institute in 1956. I had just completed the Basic Mountaineering Course of the Himalayan Mountaineering Institute when Nandu offered to take me on the expedition. I was thrilled.1

Of Saser Kangri J. O. M. Roberts wrote in 1946: 'In conclusion I must apologize for the recurrence of the word impossible in the foregoing narrative ... If I have encouraged someone else to go to Panamik and prove us wrong so much the better,' Observations like this present a challenge and Nandu had accepted it.

Our party which eventually assembled at Leh on June 23, 1956, included five Sherpa Instructors from the Himalayan Mountaineering Institute, three from the Services, including a doctor and myself, two geologists and two civilians. Accompanying us were eight high-altitude Sherpa porters. June 23 and 24 saw the party active and galvanized into sorting out loads for yak travel up to Panamik. This was all done in the imposing poplar- studded garden of what once used to be the Trade Commissioner's residence.

Through the local labour officer, forty yaks were soon arranged but only for the first three stages. It is a peculiarity of this area and Western Tibet that animals for transport will move only a day or so away from the bases; subsequent changes have to be made at each stage. This system would suit a leisurely caravan but for an expedition that has to plan its move to a day, the uncertainty of finding sufficient animals at any stage is, to say the least, disconcerting.

Footnote

  1. See H.J., Vol. XIV, 1947, pp. 9-18. Himalayan Journal

Ang Tharkey, the Senior Sherpa Instructor and Sirdar of the expedition, brought to us the 'Kaloen' of the area. His family carries a hereditary title and it is amazing how much the inhabitants of the area will do for him. He arranged to send a mounted deputy ahead to organize the right number of yaks at various stages on the way to Panamik. We were to learn later how entirely we could trust his assurances once given. The local civil and military authorities were very helpful to us in making all arrangements. In Leh and also everywhere else we were greeted by the local people with the words 'Jooleh', a general term for greetings. The dress of the Ladakhis is salwar and kamiz covered by an ample woollen gown, fastened at the waist by a bright red sash. The boots of embroidered wool in bright designs, with leather soles and carved toes, are called 'Papphus'. The headgear of the women is enchanting. Viewed from the back it is like a cobra-head, poised to strike, studded with bright green turquoise, with elephant-like ears of curled black wool on either side. Looking from the front it provides a fascinating frame to fair, frail faces. Theirs are, without doubt, the cleanest of Himalayan villages, which in general are cleaner than those in the plains. The men have very attractive faces, a keen sense of humour and a smile always playing on the edges of their lips, ready to break out into unrestricted laughter at the slightest provocation.

The party left Leh on June 25 and reached Pulu, our first stage. Forty yaks with our baggage had arrived there earlier. Next day we had a long and tiring march over the Kharding La (18,380 feet) on to the village of Kharding Serai, a formidable stage of 17 rigorous miles. Stages in this area are not dictated by the number of miles or terrain difficulties but by availability of small grazing patches in a singularly barren countryside. We left at 3.30 a.m. so that we might cross the Kharding La while the snow was still firm. Unfortunately, it was cloudy and we could not get view of Saser Kangri.

The performance of the yaks descending the steep 2,000 feet snow on the north side of the pass was delightful to watch. At some places I saw them with their bellies on the snow making swimming motions to propel themselves on. What an animal! Easily domesticated, the yak is an ideal beast of burden in high altitudes. Although he moves slowly and seldom covers more than 15 miles a day, he carries heavy burdens and is unfalteringly sure-footed on the steepest and most dangerous trails. This accommodating beast also ploughs the fields. He yields an almost indestructible wool. Boots are made of yak skin and leather, and a suit of yak cloth lasts a lifetime. Finally, and most important, the yak provides milk, butter and meat.

On the third day we entered the famous Shy ok Valley, where we stopped under a tree for lunch on the bank of river Shyok, a tributary of Indus. Khalsar, our halt for that evening, is situated in the deep ravine, green and distinct with its long line of 4 Maneys'. A ' Chorten' is a monument erected over the remains of any local important personage, while a 4 Maney' is a long wall, fenced with flat stones inscribed with Om Mani Padme Hum', the mantra of Buddhism.

The journey down the Shyok Valley and up the Nubra was the hottest and the most trying of all our marches. A broad sandy valley, no vegetation, and a hot wind made it more like desert travel than approach to high hills. At Triggur we camped in the school compound by the side of a freshwater channel. We were refreshed en route by a bowl of tar ah (butter milk) and shoh (curd), insistently pressed on to us by the hospitable villagers.

Our next halt was to be Panamik, the last village before we got off the old Central Asian trade route. That morning, when we left Triggur, the only addition to our caravan was a camel on which was seated a young Ladakhi girl in colourful costume. Behind her were yaks, horses, coolies and the members of our party, As we left the village, we found villagers singing and dancing in their fields; and the lady on the camel looked like a queen going in state. A tall, tough Ladakhi, who had lost one arm during the invasion of Ladakh in 1947 by tribesmen, led the way with the only animal he owned, a little donkey which carried as much as the rest of the animals !

At Panamik we paid off our caravan and looked forward to a day of rest. The population at Panamik was not sufficient to provide us with the 90-odd porters required to move us up to Base Camp. By 11 a.m. on June 1 we had 30 porters collected, so that the advance party could leave. It was hoped that the rear party would move up in a couple of days when more porters arrived from Nubra and Shyok valleys.

I happened to be in the rear party and fortunately or unfortunately we could not move up till June 7 when we were able to get the required number of porters. The porters who came back from the Base Camp refused to make the second trip. They had found the trek very risky. The week I spent in Panamik will remain unforgettable in my life. Our camp was situated in a garden studded with poplar trees, on the bank of a brook and hardly a few yards from the great Nubra River. We received the greatest hospitality from the local village folk, maybe partly because of the presence of the doctor in our party, who proved very useful to them. They supplied us with chickens, butter milk, curd, cheese and vegetables every day. In return we used to distribute khara (sweetmeats) to the local thos (children).

We left Panamik at about 10.30 a.m. on July 7. As we entered the ravine the route became very steep and precipitous, entailing mild rock-climbing on two or three occasions. After about seven hours' climbing we found a fairly level spot on the bank of the nalla and decided to camp there for the night.

Next morning we started at about 7 a.m. After five hours of boulder-hopping we reached the Base Camp which was established on July 2 at 15,650 feet by the advance party. Thus it took about a month for the whole party to reach the Base Gamp after reaching Srinagar. We all celebrated the reunion of the members of the expedition. The advance party had already completed the reconnaissance of the South Phukpoche Glacier, and the chances of reaching the summit were quite bright.

Next day we all moved up to Camp I on the South Phukpoche Glacier. On July 10 it snowed persistently, clearing up only at about 11 a.m. when our advance party set off from there to establish Camp II at 18,200 feet on the cirque at the base of the West face of Saser Kangri. At Camp I the remainder of us made up loads for higher camps.

After reaching Camp II, the spectacle presented to us was of Saser Kangri with its satellite IV on the left and its satellite III on the right, forming a cirque, and a 1,000-foot drop on to the head of the South Phukpoche Glacier.

On nearing the basin, two possible routes presented themselves. Neither of them looked as if they could be tackled easily. One was to cut a staircase for about 800 feet to the right on steep ice, then move along a huge hanging glacier, getting on to the South Col joining Saser Kangri's black limestone mass to Saser Ill's red marble ridge. From the Col to the summit appeared very rugged rock and very steep.

The second route would necessitate about 2,000 feet of step- cutting, getting on to the Col joining Saser IV and Saser Kangri. The ridge from the Col to the summit on this side, however, looked less frightening.

In July 11a small party, consisting of Nandu and four Sherpas, left Camp II early in the morning to attempt the overhanging glacier so as to establish Camp III just below the South Col.

Next morning we in Camp I eagerly awaited the result of this risky attempt on the overhanging and crevasse-ridden glacier. The air was deadly as we spotted the party returning, the cirque was enclosed and the sun beat mercilessly. The party descended, disheartened and weary. The attempt was a failure. Our Sherpa colleagues were astonished that the mountain had been so uncompromising. In their combined experience of all the Himalayan giants, no mountain had been so utterly unapproachable as this. In this segment of the Karakorams we found that though glaciers were comparatively accessible, the granite peaks, owing to very heavy and constant weathering, were not. We felt that the amount of risk was beyond acceptable limits and the assault was abandoned from the west face.

We then decided to explore the unnamed glacier south of the Phukpoche Glacier, with a view to getting into the basin at the head of the Sakang Lungpa Glacier. We could then attempt an entry into the huge North Shukpa Kunchang Glacier. This in turn might lead to a possible route on the South-east face of Saser Kangri.

Nandu selected 20 of the sturdier Ladakhis to remain and sent the rest down with the Lambardar of Panamik, Topgay, and Ang Temba, who fell ill after the first recce. They were to pick up all our stores from Base Camp, go down to Panamik and then travel up the Chamsing Lungpa, to meet us on the Sakang Lungpa Glacier. Meanwhile we would try and cross from one glacier system to another. This would take us over high unexplored cols and save time. It would also enable us to have a closer look at Saser Kangri. With great difficulty a route was found but it took three days to get the whole party over the first col into the Sakang Lungpa Glacier and down a steep 1,000-foot rock-face.

On July 15, we all moved to the col with stores. Long ropes were fastened with the help of pitons on the steep 1,000-foot rock-face. Most of us came down by rapelling. Nandu and Gompu, who climbed Everest with the American Expedition last year (1963), moved on to pitch camp at the head of Sakang Lungpa Glacier while we all returned to our camp.

Next day all of us moved down to our new camp and joined Nandu and Gompu in reconnoitring the route over a 15,000-foot col joining Saser II (24,650 feet) and Saser III (24,590 feet) into North Shukpa Kunchang Glacier. On the result of this rested our last hope for attempting the main Saser Peak. With numbed hands and prayers we trudged 5J hours to the col only to find the other side an impassable precipice crowned by overhanging cornices, portions of which avalanches down with disturbing regularity. Our hearts sank. Three weeks of battering at and around the outer defences of Saser Kangri had come to naught.

Panorama from Sakang

Panorama from Sakang

Team at camp I on south Phukpoche glacier

Team at camp I on south Phukpoche glacier

On the way from Panamik to south Phukpoche2 glacier

On the way from Panamik to south Phukpoche2 glacier

The last camp on Sakang

The last camp on Sakang

After we failed in our initial objective, Nandu decided to explore the route to Saser II (24,650 feet). On July 18 six of us set off early in the morning, to climb to Look-out' peak (20,150 feet) to see if Saser II might prove kinder. Nandu, Ang Tharkey and Namgyal, who were on the first rope, reached the top at about 2 p.m. while Colonel Katoch (now Brigadier) Raina (Geologist) and I, who were on the second rope, were caught in a blizzard and had to retreat. According to Nandu, Saser II looked forbidding from the top, rising in sheer inviolate majesty over the South Shukpa Kunchang Glacier. It would have been madness to attempt it. To the left of it, however, was a sharp attractive pyramid which looked as if it might be climbed from its South face. This peak was obviously over 24,000 feet and known as Sakang Peak.

We next moved our camp to the junction of the North and South Sakang Lungpa glaciers, at a height of about 17,500 feet. Unfortunately Colonel Isher Katoch's and my limited holiday was drawing to a close and we decided to leave the party on July 22. On the 20th Nandu, Raina, Ang Tharkey and Namgyal had moved up the South Sakang Lungpa glaciers to have a closer look at the Sakang Peak. Ladakhi coolies were sent down to Chamshing Lungpa to bring wood. As I had only two more days left at the camp, I felt like attempting a 21,000-foot high peak situated at the junction of the North and South Sakang Lungpa glaciers. Early in the morning I started alone. After about a thousand feet of rock-climbing, I came across a steep ice-face with a layer of some three feet of soft snow. Once made and consolidated, the snow steps held fairly well, but in order to make them it was usually necessary to thrust in the ice-axe at chest level and pull it up with both hands. Later, cutting steps was a hard job. The ice was hard and the snow fell down from above and engulfed the steps. Higher up I came across an impossible looking buttress of rock. On second thought I felt as if it might go. This was my last day of climbing on the expedition and I persisted. About 1 p.m., after seven hours of continuous climbing, I reached the top. Saser I and Saser III were clearly visible. At the summit I had strange feelings of happiness as well as awe; the latter perhaps due to the fact that I was alone. Nandu humorously named this summit Kohli Peak'.

Return Journey

Our return journey was a hurried one and it was highlighted, among other things, by the overwhelming hospitality of the villagers. We emerged into the Nubra Valley via Chamshing Lungpa. I was sorry to leave earlier than the main party. Two days later, they climbed the 24,150 feet high Sakang Peak. Nandu, Namgyal and Raina were the summit-trio.

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