LANGTANG HIMALAYA

PETER TAYLOR

Professor Vicente Cicchitti stirred his tea thoughtfully before answering my question. We were sitting in his study at his home in Mendoza, Argentina, a few days before Christmas, 1961. The question: would I be able to climb a 22,000-foot peak in the Himalaya despite the fact that I wouldn't be able to get away from Kathmandu before May 1 ? Vicente had been on the Argentine Expedition to Dhaulagiri a few years earlier, so he could speak from experience. I forget the exact words of his reply but I remember his talking about long treks, acclimatization, the monsoon and other things not even remotely connected with climbing. I wasn't much help to him, either: I hadn't the faintest idea which mountain I wanted to climb.

Next day I left for Puenta del Inca with the idea of joining a German group attempting the nearly 23,000-foot Aconcagua. It came to nothing, for by the time I had reached their Base Camp at 14,000 feet bad weather had driven their first party back and they were preparing to call the show off. I returned to Mendoza for the New Year celebrations with Vicente and his many friends. By January 3 I was back at my job in the taboleiro country in Bahia, Brazil.

In the steamy heat I often thought of the coolness in the Andes, and by association, of mountains I had never seen—the Himalaya Life, however, is full of surprises. Within a few weeks of returning to Brazil I was on my way to the United States and from there across the Pacific to Australia. On April 4, 1962, I took up my new assignment in the Australian ⁶ outback' south of the Simpson Desert area. This brought a change in my leave schedule: I now calculated that I would be off on six weeks' leave by April 20. I saw a chance of being in Kathmandu by April 25 instead of May 1. The extra week revived my hopes of climbing something over 20,000 feet. I managed to get my hands on a map of Nepal and looked for a range within a few miles of Kathmandu. The Lang- tang Himal was an obvious choice. I noticed, too, that there were a couple of peaks marked 23,770 feet and 21,592 feet. I decided that the latter was the mountain for me. I wondered what its name was and how many times it had been climbed.

For Christmas, 1962, I went to New Zealand with the idea of getting a bit of snow and ice practice in on the Southern Alps. I arrived in Christchurch on December 22. The following day I met Norman Hardie and the threads of my plans to go to the Nepal Himalaya were taken up once again. Norman told me of Tilman's visit to the Langtang and advised me to read his account. He also gave me a lot of advice on travel in the Himalaya, on food and equipment, and bit by bit my one-man expedition began to take shape. For some time, I had been corresponding with Mr. Narendra Shah, of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs in Kathmandu. Also with the Himalayan Society. The outcome of this was that I was granted permission to climb the 21,592-foot peak (which I learned was called Langtang II) and that a couple of Sherpas would come with me, in view of the fact that I had no climbing companions. I had tried to enlist climbers from New Zealand and Canada but without luck. It seemed that for the 1963 season just about everybody I knew had a plan of his own.

The expedition was to assemble in Kathmandu on April 25. I estimated that we could get to Langtang by May 1, allow three weeks for acclimatization and reconnaissance and then make our attempt during the last few days of May and perhaps have the first week of June to have a look at the 23,770-foot peak called Lining. After a couple of climbs in the Southern Alps I returned to the Outback. The few weeks in 1963 which were left to me were spent in keeping in condition: I walked up and down sand dunes with a pack containing 70 lb. of sand. Sometimes the temperature was up to 110°. It was murder!

* * *

On April 25 I arrived by plane in Kathmandu. I limped into the terminal buildings (I had sprained my ankle in Calcutta), wondering just where to stay for the few days. There was a Land- rover from the Hotel Royal parked outside ; after a few words with the driver I slung my one suitcase in the back and we were on our way. There followed what can only be described as a lamentable catalogue of follies and frustrations. One of my travelling-bags had been unloaded by error in Rangoon and had been impounded by Customs there. A case containing my few items of equipment was still in the Port of Calcutta, as my agent there had omitted to tell me of such refinements as import licences, bonds and the like. He assumed I knew it all. I assumed he knew it all. I returned to Calcutta to untangle this lot, while my Sherpas went sight-seeing in the Kathmandu Valley.

* * *

It was May 18 before we managed to get away from Kathmandu, and there seemed little hope of climbing Langtang II. Among other things I discovered that it had never been climbed, and no one knew anything definite about an approach route from the west. We went by truck to Trisuli Bazar, arriving there at 5 p.m. on the 18th. It was too late to think about pushing on, so we camped on the west bank of the Trisuli just beyond the village. We sat round our camp-fire long into the night, discussing our chances of a first ascent so late in the season. I don't speak a word of Nepalese, so you may wonder how this took place. The easiest way to explain it is to introduce you to the men. From Darjeeling, Pasang Phutar III, my sirdar and Pasang Sherpa, a high-altitude porter; from Namche Bazar, Ang Tenji our cook and his son and helper Ang Nyima; local porters Pasang Tenji and Shakpa Norbu completed the Sherpa team. In charge of ⁶ red tape, the slashing of' was Mr. Janardin Raj Bhandary, a college youth about 18 or 19 years old. This was his first expedition and he was keen to show that as a Liaison Officer he was second to none. Just before leaving Kathmandu I had been persuaded to take on a mail runner. Chain-smoking Marka Bahadur Tamang had offered his services and was duly signed on. And there was Graham Homan, a 27-year-old former R.A.F. officer whom I met by chance in Kathmandu. Graham agreed to come along as first- aid man and Base Camp supervisor. Unfortunately, he was not a mountaineer.

Raj Bhandary spoke very good English; Pasang Phutar's vocabulary consisted mainly of mountaineering terms and Pasang Sherpa knew enough to register agreement or disagreement. These latter two and myself formed the climbing team. We had 18 coolies, although the weight to be carried to Base Camp was only a shade over 600 lb. I cut down the loads to 40-45 lb. per man to increase our speed on the trek. (It worked: the anticipated seven- day hike was accomplished in four days).

* * *

The trip to Timure in the Trisuli Valley was without incident, except for our meeting Mrs. Leela Rao Dayal and her husband near the village of Dhunche. Had Graham and I known the identities of these trail travellers we would have shown a little more respect. It was hot that particular morning and we both had our shirts off. Mrs. Dayal told me that she had been climbing in the Langtang. She looked so cool and composed that I assumed she'd been on a walking tour. It wasn't until I'd returned to Kathmandu that I learned of the accomplishments of this remarkable woman.

We arrived at Timure about midday on the 22nd. After lunch with a Mr. Michael Francis and his colleagues we commenced the long climb out of the valley towards Timure Keti and the lower slopes of Langtang II. Timure is at an approximate elevation of 6,000 feet. By 4 p.m. on May 23 the last porter arrived with his load at Base Camp. I estimated our height to be about 15,500 feet. The porters had climbed over 7,000 feet that day. I now had a decision to make: whether to spend time in recce and acclimatization and hope for a late monsoon or go ahead in an all-out attempt for the top as soon as possible. I decided to go as high as possible right-away and take a chance on the effects of altitude.

Our view of Langtang II on the way up the easy slopes above Timure Keti had shown the impossibility of an attempt on the West face. Much of the lower climbing would have been on bare rock towers and up narrow couloirs. Debris at the foot of the mountain indicated that a West face route would be a pretty lively one. Also, at about the 20,000-foot mark it suddenly became quite steep and slabby looking. It was not for us. I decided that we would work our way around to the East face and see what it had to offer. Accordingly, Base Camp was sited to the south of the main massif and about 1,500 feet below the long ridge which runs south from the peak and down to the junction of the Trisuli and Langtang rivers at Syabrubensi.

On the 24th, while the Sherpas were sorting out the gear, I moved up alone to about 16,500 feet with the idea of looking for the initial part of the route to the East face. Just above the camp was a vast cirque; at its east end was a network of couloirs and steep aretes. The cloud was down so I was unable to see if any of the couloirs would lead to a good camp-site, say, at about 19,000 feet. But it became clear to me that the way to the East face lay up one of these couloirs—always assuming that they didn't fade out into difficult climbing higher up. I decided to chance it.

Pasang Phutar, Pasang Sherpa, Pasang Tenji, Shakpa Norbu and myself left Base Camp at 6 a.m. on May 25. My intention was to put a camp at 19,000 feet that day. We were a bit light on climbing gear: three ice-axes, two 120-foot ropes, one 200-foot rappel line, a few pitons, four slings, some provisions and a couple of small tents. The plan was for the two local porters to come with us as far as possible—at least until the climbing became tricky- leave their loads with us and return to Base Camp. There was no problem getting across the cirque and we made good progress as far as the couloirs. We all coughed rather badly, due to the pace but otherwise took it all in our stride. The cloud was still down so I couldn't get a good view of the upper part of the couloir we chose to climb. The two local porters were going quite well and insisted on climbing the couloir with us. I wasn't too keen on this—they had neither ropes, ice-axes, crampons nor even proper boots and warm clothing. But I had told them all that this was a Nepalese expedition and that I had heard of the Sherpa and his reputation as a mountaineer. There was no stopping them now. Not only that but I kept looking at the heavy loads they were carrying!

Half-way up the couloir the weather broke. It began to snow quite heavily; occasionally, some loose snow would come rolling down from above, giving us anxious moments. I called a halt. We moved out of the couloir on to a rock ledge. Here the two tents were set up as a hurried bivouac and we prepared to sit things out until the next day. It was just after midday and I estimated that we were at 18,500 feet. Once the tents were up I looked round for the two local porters with the idea of lending them some of our gear so that they could descend to Base Camp with safety. ⁶ Where Pasang Tenji and Shakpa Norbu, Pasang ? ' ⁴ Gone down, sir.' ⁶ Gone down ?' I was a bit alarmed. Pasang Phutar smiled and told me not to worry; ⁶ Sherpas O.K.', he said. I peered over the edge of our platform in the hope that I might see them. The wind blew the softly falling snow aside from time to time and I caught a glimpse of them traversing the couloir about 100 feet or so below.

Next morning the weather had cleared and it was with some relief that I saw that the rest of the couloir above presented no difficulty. Rather than wait for the porters to come up again, I set off alone to kick steps to the top. The snow was firm (it was 9 a.m. and still quite cold) and I spent a couple of hours putting a route up to the top—about 600 feet, I should think. Perhaps less. It was a bit exhausting and I thought I might try a little rock-climbing instead. I moved out on to the rocks after kicking my way up about 300 feet. As I expected, the rocks were unstable, due to frost splitting and there were a few anxious moments on shifting mixtures of snow and scree. I scrambled back into the couloir and continued with the drudgery.

Above the couloir was a comfortable-looking plateau complete with two frozen ponds. Camp I was set up at 1 p.m. I sat outside my tent in the warm sun and looked at the next stage of the climb—the East face of Langtang II. The cloud was down on the upper part so I had to guess where the summit lay. The lower slopes looked easy enough but I had a feeling that the last 500 feet to the top might not be so easy. The climb had now acquired a definite character. I spent most of my time gazing up into the heavy clouds, hoping for a break and a look at what lay ahead for us. Occasionally, I was rewarded with a glimpse of a fragment of dark-looking rock and patches of snow. To the east lay a peak which had twin summits shaped like horns. The South horn was considerably lower than the North.

May 27 dawned and we were off once again, Pasang Phutar warned me that I was moving too soon, but we were all going well and I felt disinclined to sit around, waiting to get used to the height. The monsoon could be on us at any time. I had neither the reserves nor the ambition for a second attempt, should this one fail. So it was all or nothing now. The lower slopes were quite straightforward and we gained height rapidly. There was a bad moment when I wandered on to the South ridge by mistake. The visibility was poor and the sudden realization that I was near the sheer West face made me draw back in a hurry. There was a nasty void in the swirling mist a few feet ahead.

We were at 21,000 feet when I finally threw in for the day. Had I known that we were so near the top I would have dumped everything and gone on. It was only 11.45 a.m., but I had no idea where we were. I had caught a glimpse of a rather exposed- looking snow ridge higher up. I didn't feel up to tackling it.

There were three of us now. The two local porters had remained at Camp I. After the single tent was pitched I crawled inside and got straight into my sleeping-bag. My cough had returned and I wasn't feeling too bright. Pasang Phutar joined me at about 4 p.m. He had spent his time wandering around outside, picking up fragments of clear quartz. The stuff lay around like bits of broken glass. ' Where's Pasang Sherpa ?I asked. ⁶ Down Camp Ihe replied, pointing at the floor of the tent. After heating up some soup and eating a bar of chocolate for dessert we settled down for the night.

It was 2 a.m. on the morning of the 28th when the effects of altitude finally caught up with me. I was a bit alarmed by my noisy breathing and wondered if pneumonia was on its way. I didn't seem to have the symptoms, though. Except for the cough I was breathing quite regularly and I didn't feel ill or feverish. I had some penicillin tablets in my first-aid kit, so I had a course of them—two every two hours until daybreak. It was the wrong thing to do as I was soon to find out. At 9 a.m. Pasang looked at me with some alarm. ^‘ You very sick', he said, pointing at my face. I looked in a pocket mirror and noted my swollen face with mild curiosity. I decided that the swelling was the result of taking penicillin. At this altitude it seemed that I was allergic to it. Perhaps there is a simpler explanation but to date, no one has come up with one. ^‘We climb ? ' Pasang Phutar looked at me anxiously. I didn't know the answer to that one until I'd struggled out of my sleeping-bag and lurched to my feet outside the tent. Once upright I felt much better. I laced up my boots, swallowed a couple of caffeine tablets for breakfast and looked for my ice-axe.

I was surprised to see Pasang Sherpa. I seem to remember that both of the local porters were also there but I can't be sure. Pasang led off. After scrambling up a few gullies we came to the snow ridge which I had seen the day before. Pasang shortened the lead on the rope to about 30 feet and started to kick steps. A few minutes later I moved up to join him. I was surprised to find that we had reached a rocky platform of some kind. I looked around. To the west was a grey void of cloud. There was a brief thinning and I had a glimpse of a faintly green patch far below. The Trisuli Valley, I said to myself. For quite a while there was nothing to be seen in any other direction so we sat down to wait. I felt sure that we had climbed a subsidiary point on the South ridge of Langtang II. Then the North summit came into view. I was able to look across at it almost levelly. (The map shows the North summit to be 21,500 feet plus). The intervening ridge showed no higher points. We were up!

I took a few feet of 8-mm. movie and a couple of ⁴ still' shots in black-and-white. I hoped I might get a look at Lining but the clouds closed in completely even as I was changing the exposure setting. ^‘We'll go back down to 19,000 Pasang, rest for a couple of days and then go and have a look at Lining.' He said nothing. I think he realized that it was wishful thinking on my part. We turned to descend and were shortly back at Camp II once again. If only I'd known how close we were to the top the previous day!

* * *

I rested at Camp II for about an hour. We had all the time in the world now and I wasn’t about to dash off the mountain. I told Pasang that the others could go up if they wanted to as there was plenty of time. The descent was accomplished without mishap, though I had a few anxious moments in the couloir next day. There had been quite a heavy snow-fall and I thought it might avalanche. We arrived back in Base Camp at 3 p.m. on May 30. Towards the end I went very badly and was just able to make it under my own steam. I rested for a couple of days and thought of trying some of the 18,000-footers nearby. But I was too weak. And then there was a rock avalanche which bounced a few boulders into camp. We moved down to Timure in a hurry.

We arrived back in Kathmandu on June 6, three days before the Americans got back from Everest. A chance meeting with Colonel Wylie in the Hotel Royal led to an invitation to lunch at his house near the British Embassy. Over a Scotch and soda I recounted a few of my experiences in the Langtang and elsewhere. ‘How long were you away on your climb ? ' ' Nineteen days.' 'I say, that was a quick one!' And conversation drifted to other climbs, other places, other men.

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