KINNAUR, 1966

SUMAN DUBEY

THE border district that straddles the first 50 miles of the Sutlej River after its entry into India is a relatively unknown area for mountaineers. Boasting of the famous Spiti and Sangla valleys, Kinnaur has dozens of unexplored peaks and glaciers. In the years past, it was also one of the remotest districts in the country.

It was the idea of Gurdial Singh and Aspi Moddie to visit the area and attempt Reo Purgyol (22,210 feet), and it wasn't long before pleasant memories of a mountain holiday in Kinnaur in 1963 convinced me of the soundness of the idea. We added Balbir Singh and Deepak Capoor to the list of members and hired two Darjeeling Sherpas and a Gurkha cook. However, just before we were about to depart, Aspi Moddie had to drop out owing to a medical complaint and we found an excellent replacement in Major Balwant Sandhu. To complete a five-week expedition, we added a reconnaissance of Kinnaur-Kailash (21,210 feet) to our plans.

Leaving Chandigarh on June 6, we spent the night in the chill air of Narkanda with its grandstand view of Himachal mountains. Try as we might, we couldn't identify our peaks. From Narkanda one descends 7,000 feet in 20 miles to the steaming hot Sutlej Valley which is followed into Kinnaur, 80 miles away. En route we stopped at Rampur, the old capital of Rampur-Bushahr, and were pleasantly surprised to find cold beer on sale.

Kalpa, the district town, nestles lightly amongst deodar and chilgoza pines (Pinus gerardiana) on the northern slopes of the Sutlej Valley. Arriving there on June 9 we occupied the old rest-house with its breath-taking view of the Kinnaur-Kailash Massif, the main summit of which rises a sheer 15,000 feet above the river below. Here, too, we started a short acclimatization period, climbing the slopes around to about 12,000 feet.

The valley here has interesting tributaries. Rupa is one such. Situated across the main Himalayan divide the country assumes a barren, almost Tibetan character. Brown and rust hill slopes are dotted with green oases that are the villages and the sheer joy of emerging from the gorge into the green of Rupa is indescribable. Here, as in fact in even the remotest corners of the district, there is evidence of the tremendous economic development in progress in the area. With an almost alarming speed irrigation kuhls, schools and orchards are springing up everywhere and the local population boasts that in a few years the apples they will export to the rest of the country will be unmatched by any others and, from what we saw, this is no empty boast. All this is appreciated all the more when one realizes that the greater part of this district is unfit for development work for about six months in the year.

There is a regular bus service to Pooh (c. 9,000 feet), about 20 miles from Shipki La, and the nearby Sutlej-Spiti confluence, which must at one time have been the remotest corner of this country, is easily accessible. Travellers in the past (record of whom exists in the Pooh rest-house visitors' book) revelled in the remoteness of the area ; travellers of the present revel in the great changes taking place.

The Spiti cascades into the Sutlej through a truly fantastic gorge, the water spray in which throws up a multitude of rainbows. It was up this that we made our way and arrived at the peaceful village of Nako, the last village before Base Camp. Here we hired our high-altitude porters, Man Singh and Thandup, both of whom had previously, in 1962, been with the Army expedition to the peak (which, through a tragic accident, lost a member and two Sherpas). In 1933, Marco Pallis had followed a slightly different route and we didn't meet up with his route till our Camp 1 (his Camp 2). The rise from Nako (12,000 feet) to Base Camp (16,500 feet) is abrupt, so we split the climb into two days and arrived there in miserable weather on June 13.

For a few anxious minutes after our arrival at Base Camp we thought that we might have arrived at the wrong glacier. This was because of bad visibility and the fact that we couldn't identify the peaks around. Towards the evening the clouds lifted and we had a glimpse of Reo Purgyol, situated exactly where it should have been.

The next day, June 14, was spent in reorganizing our food. We also handed out equipment to the members and were pleasantly surprised to find that the equipment, largely Indian and largely from the Jayal Memorial Fund, was of a better quality than we had expected.

The Sherpas, Chinze and Ang Phutar, had their own and we equipped Man Singh and Thondup for high-altitude work. Most of the food was earmarked for Base and the sort of things required for the higher camps—fruit juices, milk, Horlicks, fish, rice and dal—we arranged in porter loads. It was our intention to place the whole team on the summit and in order to do this with only limited carrying capacity, we found that members were carrying as much if not more than the porters.

The weather continued to be indifferent that day and deteriorated the next day. However, eschewing total inactivity, Balbir and I decided to make a short reconnaissance of the route towards Camp 1. Above and behind Base Camp we could see a ridge which we knew to be separated from the main massif by a subsidiary glacier flowing into the main Reo Purgyol Glacier. Not wishing to ascend and then having to descend, we thought we'd turn this ridge towards the Reo Purgyol Glacier and follow the glacier towards, the main peak.

This normally presents problems in that walking along the surface of a glacier can be extremely tedious as one constantly has to ascend and descend on the surface moraine. We started in a complete cloud white-out and made our way to the edge of the ridge where we could look down on the glacier.

What we saw relieved us immensely ; there was a gently rising lateral moraine running for a mile or so along the glacier. From the end of this we could see we would have to traverse across the glacier and pitch Camp 1 on the slopes below the Reo Purgyol West Col. A look at the map will explain the position. Satisfied, we returned again in a complete white-out to the warmth of our tents where our companions had spent a lazy morning. That evening we played some bridge to wile away the long hours.

While all this was going on, we had two cases of altitude sickness. This is normal in the hills but it can often develop into something serious.

Balwant was the worst affected and suffered from severe headache and just could not retain any food. Like the rest of us, he suffered from a certain amount of insomnia. Deepak, our other case, was comparatively in a better position, for, apart from a loss of appetite, he carried a mild and dull headache. This, however, stayed with him all the time but there was nothing more serious which is surprising in view of future developments. Both declined suggestions to descend to Nako for a few days and Balwant recovered fully in three days. Although his condition didn't warrant compulsory evacuation, we did not let Deepak climb any higher which was a source of great disappointment to him. We were confident that this would enable him to attune to altitude better on the Kinnaur-Kailash reconnaissance.

On June 16, the weather gods spared us in the morning and we were able to establish Camp 1. Leaving Base early in the morning, we retraced our steps of the previous day and found ourselves sinking in the fresh and deep snow despite the tracks, which the wind had unsparingly reduced to mere scratches in the snow. Descending steeply on to the glacier, we climbed on to the lateral moraine which was, mercifully, free of snow. This we followed to its end and began the uncomfortable walk across the glacier. Here Chinze came into his own. With absolutely minimum use of his intelligence, this charming young man went up and down at random (or so we thought at the time) heading towards the opposite bank. The rest of us followed quite unable to match the abandon that is characteristic of the Sherpas.

The altitude was telling oh us and the heavy packs made the situation worse. After long hours, we finally arrived at the other end and climbed the slopes to where we decided to pitch Camp 1 at approximately 18,200 feet. It had been a good day but, as is invariable with the first, a very tiring one.

The return from Camp 1 was easier only in that we had no loads ; we still had to climb up and down and that steep climb up from the glacier never was very friendly. After this recce- cum-ferrying effort, we unanimously decided on a rest-day.

Our amateur cook, Nar Bahadur, unfortunately had a very limited repertoire. Being subjected to chappaties, dal and potatoes every day is not conducive to efficient climbing but we had respite in the load of leechees which lasted us throughout our stay at Base Camp. In fact, this fruit dominated the scene at camp every day.

It was on the 18th that we were able to occupy Camp 1. For the move up we were helped by two more porters, and Deepak, reluctantly, agreed to stay behind and manage Base Camp. For some reason Balwant carried Rudyard Kipling's poems up with him and Balbir was found to be reading Rudolf Hess at Camp 2. Gurdial and I decided that we would spend any spare time we might have in making future plans. In the evening we made another recce upwards towards Camp 2 which was to be situated on the West Col, now visible and very close. Early next morning we arose to find Thondup and Man Singh arrived from Base to help us move up. This time we did not intend to make a ferry and took three days' rations up with us.

As it turned out, we did not require to be roped as our route lay up gentle slopes free from crevasses. This is surely surprising for 20,000 feet.

Hard snow gave way to soft slush as the sun rose higher and gradually the steepness increased culminating in one final sweep to the Col. There we were surprised to find evidence of a small tent platform in the rocks, for the only other people to have visited the area came in 1933. We enlarged this and pitched two tents near each other. Four members and two Sherpas somehow fitted themselves into these. From this point we could look well into Tibet but only at the high ridges, except in the far distance where the blue uplands of Tibet merged with the sky. We could also see, as we had done from Base Camp, the massif containing Shilla and it was apparent that no peak of 23,050 feet exists there.

June 20 dawned clear and we made preparations for a quick start. The face above us looked interesting and difficult. Ice bulges were interspersed with steep slopes of snow laying on ice, not unlike what one finds on the Lhotse face of the Everest Massif.

Balbir, who had not done much ice-climbing, characteristically opted out of the attempt rather than slow the party. We roped up on two ropes, Gurdial leading one with Balwant his second and Ang Phutar third, and with me leading the other with Chinze second. Our rope started climbing and very soon we were at the first ice bulge.

This turned out to be a nasty one being split in the middle by a crevasse, resulting in half the bulge hanging over a hollow space. Chinze belayed me across and after he had followed up we fixed a 100-foot line for safety while descending. Above the bulge was a steep slope and while we rested the other rope caught up, having started a little later.

The next bulge also had a crevasse running through it, but as this was solidly filled with snow we were able to climb straight up it. There were anxious moments when, while belaying Chinze up, his foot and most of his leg vanished into the depths. However, the incident turned out to be minor and we proceeded towards the third and last bulge. This was the easiest and before long we were resting at 21,000 feet, about 800 feet below the summit ridge.

While we had been busy with the ice bulges, clouds had built up the Sutlej Valley and were fast gaining momentum and volume up the Spiti below. It was only a question of time and, while we rested, at 11 a.m. we were completely enveloped in another white-out. Very occasionally we would get some snow and the wind became more hostile.

We were confident that we could still climb to the summit but the chances of a good view into Tibet became remote. We climbed on, up steep slopes of hard snow and avoiding glazed ice whenever we could see it in time, which was not very often.

About an hour and a half later we struck the summit ridge. We could see only a hundred feet or so along it and although very sharp, it was free from cornices. Doing rather an expert balancing act, we moved cautiously along this. Gradually a cornice began to form and at one point the ridge took a dip and I shouted to the rope behind that we were on the summit.

Just as I said that, the cloud lifted for a brief second and we saw, about 100 feet above and very close, the rocky summit of Reo Purgyol. We were standing on a bump in the ridge. However, before the cloud closed in again, we saw something else. The ridge we were on, harmless where we were, abruptly changed in character turning into blue ice and capped with a cornice. From the bump it climbed steeply to the summit in a single sweep, of which, curiously enough, there is no mention in Marco Pallis' account.⁵ The clouds denied us a careful examination and all we could see then was the faint outline of the summit.

 

Here was a problem. Not being able to see the danger point of the cornice we were reluctant to take a risk. A short conference was held and we decided that under the circumstances it would be better to return to camp. That the summit was not more than half an hour away in good weather, we did not doubt. To wait for the weather to clear would mean more uncertainty and the risk of losing ourselves because the wind had been busy obliterating our tracks.

So we turned and made our way back to camp. That evening Gurdial Singh mooted the suggestion that we return to another attempt after a few days at Base, but both Balwant and I were keen to get to grips with Kinnaur-Kailash and did not consider the effort worth while for a hundred feet.

Accordingly, we returned to Base on June 21 to find Deepak feeling fitter and eating almost normally. We spent the next day organizing loads and left Base Camp on June 22 for Nako.

On the return members ambled down the hill slopes, now bedecked with (lowers. Balwant and Gurdial took a detour to hunt for fresh meat and although we heard shots in the afternoon, they were unsuccessful. Balbir and I went southwards to a point 16,000 feet from which we could look down on the Shipki La (12,000 feet), which is not really a pass, and into Tibet up the Sutlej Valley to the point where it takes a sharp swing towards Tolingmath. The last Tibetan village, Shipki, was very green but even with a 400-mm. telephoto lens, we failed to see any movement. Deepak, not fully recovered, preferred to return with the porter and yak train descending slowly. He rested frequently and just as we were getting anxious, he walked into the rest-house at Nako.

The descent to 12,000 feet did him good and an Army doctor we had sent for examined him briefly and found him suffering mildly from exhaustion. The next day we returned to Pooh where Deepak developed a sharp pain in the lower right lung region. Under the influence of pain-killer we took him back to Kalpa where the doctor diagnosed pneumonitic pleurisy and began treating him. During the course of this he developed lever which vanished in two days. By now it was clear that the Kinnaur-Kailash recce was off.

On June 28 we were able to move him to Karcham at 5,500 feet. An X-ray showed a small patch, under control, and his chest free from pulmonary oedema. His improvement continued further and the doctors cleared him to move to the plain 180 miles away.

On the morning of July 2, we drove down to fetch him and found he was in the bathroom. An orderly helped him and he came and lay down on the bed. For a few moments he was alone and when the orderly returned to tell him of our arrival, he was lying as if in a faint. The doctor rushed to him but Deepak could not be revived and passed away peacefully.

The whole thing was inexplicable and the suddenness was shattering, particularly when his improvement had seemed so nearly complete. We cremated him on the bank of the Sutlej at the edge of an idyllic forest near Sholtu under the shadow of Kinnaur-Kailash. The ashes were taken to Ajmer, where they were immersed in the peaceful waters of Pushkar Raj.

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