ACROSS THE SARA UMGA LA

(Reprinted from the Alpine Journal)

ROBERT PETTIGREW

Geographically, Kulu, in the Punjab of India, is probably the ^ most accessible area of the Himalaya but politically it is now in the same unfortunate category as regions further east, i.e. seemingly closed to European mountaineers for an indefinite period owing to a succession of military ' emergencies ' on remote borders.

These restrictions, imposed at the last moment, seriously affected the activities of the last season's Army Mountaineering Association party,¹ firstly by reducing it to 50 per cent of the original strength ; secondly by denying it access to the upper Parbati Valley, at the head of which lies the most interesting and alluring concentration of virgin mountains over 21,000 feet in Kulu ; thirdly by forcing it to visit an alternative area barred by three high and wintry passes.

This is the region drained by the upper reaches of the Malana and Tos rivers, previously visited, among others, by Colonel J. O. M. Roberts in 1939 and 1941² and 20 years later by the Derbyshire Himalayan Expedition.³ Fortunately, a few corners had kept their secrets intact.

Papsura, 21,165 feet, the highest remaining virgin peak in the northern section of the Kulu-Lahul-Spiti watershed,⁸ was unrecon- noitred ; moreover, it lay beyond the Sara Umga La, a pass with romantic associations in the long history of Indo-Tibet trade but completely unknown to European mountaineers. According to A. P. F. Hamilton⁵ the pass could not be less than 16,000 feet, and it was said to be difficult. Nevertheless, it carried the ancient trade route from Ladakh, formerly known as Western Tibet, to Rampur-Bashahr in the Sutlej Valley of the Punjab.

 

Captain Todd, who climbed in Kulu with Bruce in 1912, has described⁶ the historic events in the Beas Valley, notably the seizure of key points by the Rajput warrior-chieftains in the seventeenth century which ended the Tibetan occupation of Kulu. The excessive customs duty vigorously levied and collected by the new regime on goods passing over the Rohtang La, 13,050 feet—there is a canyon still known as ^e Customs House'—eventually closed the Rohtang and forced the trade-hungry Tibetans to seek a new pass across the Divide in an environment traditionally shunned by Indians as hostile.

In Lahul the trade route from the famous Bara Lacha La, 16,047 feet, to the foot of the Sara Umga La, 16,025 feet, traversing uninhabited, inhospitable and difficult terrain, finally skirted the obstructive snout of the Bara Shigri Glacier on the true left bank of the Chandra River to reach Phuti Runi (the Split Rock), the rendezvous point, in the level area still known as the Plain of the Kanauris.⁷

The Tibetans used ' Biangis' (big sheep) as pack animals carrying salt, borax and precious stones. They were met during October by the Kanauris, enterprising middle-men from Bashahr in the Sutlej Valley. Encamped for a week at the foot of the Chota Shigri Glacier the barter would commence. The biangis were sheared, their wool being an important commodity for trade. The barter concluded, the Tibetans would return to Ladakh carrying the famous Lahul wheat and commodities from the plains of the Punjab. In the reverse direction the Kanauris, now with their tough little Bashahr sheep as pack animals, ascended the easy- angled Chota Shigri Glacier, crossed the deep notch of the Sara Umga La, descended over steep and awkward lateral moraines of the main Tos Glacier, and continued on a good track down the true right bank of the uninhabited Tos nullah to the village of Pulga in the Parbati Valley. Thence their route lay across the upper reaches of the Hurla, Sainj, Tirthan and Kurpan rivers to Rampur —where they met the traders of the plains on their own terms.

We planned to locate and climb the Sara Umga La en route for the reconnaissance of Papsura.

Dominating the head of the Malana nullah is Ali Ratni Tibba, 18,013 feet, and its foretop, known locally as Pap tula and Dramtula, a formidable mountain resembling the Aiguille du Dru. It is undoubtedly the finest and most distinctive peak viewed from any direction ; but the Survey of India sheet 52H/SW, ½ inch to the mile, definitely marks a peak two miles to the east of Point 18,013 feet, as being Ali Ratni Tibba. Either the name is misplaced on sheet 52H/SW or mountaineers have mistakenly ascribed the name to Point 18,013 feet which should therefore be unnamed. I subscribe to the view that there is a misprint on the map, because there are so few peaks named in this area that it is virtually certain that Ali Ratni Tibba would not be excluded, whereas its neighbour to the east is an undistinguished snow-dome, unidentifiable from a distance. Whether or not it should be referred to as Paptula, the name used by the paharis (hillmen) of the Malana nullah, is another question. But whatever name it goes under it is a superb obelisk of a mountain with an unmistakable aura of impregnability. Although Handley and Gray of the Derbyshire party had explored the upper plateau east of the mountain in 1961, the onset of the monsoon had precluded the chance of a full-scale reconnaissance ; consequently we decided that we would attempt to circumnavigate it, reconnoitring all sides from close quarters as we went.

With these objectives in mind the A.M.A. party assembled by degrees in the Johnson Orchards at Raison—a small village in the Beas Valley some 18 miles south of Manali, in early May 1965. The orchards were developed by the late Colonel J. C. Johnson, 5th 6b Gurkha Rifles, who had served with Brigadier-General the Hon. C. G. Bruce, the pioneer of climbing in Kulu. They are now owned by his son, Mr. James Johnson, who entertained us royally.

As a means of transporting stores and equipment to base camps in Kulu and Lahul the use of ponies should be carefully considered. Their rate of hire is approximately half the cost of coolies shifting the same total load, and they are certainly half the trouble. However, in the pre-monsoon season winter snow invariably lies deep on the passes giving access to the most attractive country and this forbids the use of pack animals. Post-monsoon they are an economical and dependable means of transport. In view of the usual snow conditions prevailing on the Chandra Khanni Pass, 11,617 feet, this season, we decided to recruit Tibetan refugee coolies since they were readily available in Manali—there being a lull in the military road building on which they are normally employed. We also reasoned that they were unlikely to yearn after the melas or spring fairs which exercise a magnetic influence over the Kulu male and draw him unerringly to the fleshpots of the valley where he consumes loogri (which looks and tastes like metal polish) and dances languidly on the village greens. Although John Banon, the Hon. Local Secretary of the Himalayan Club, warned us that we were certain to experience labour trouble en route if we employed Tibetans, it was Hobson's choice.

Accordingly on May 15, 27 warmly clad and well-shod Tibetans, smiling beneath characteristic stetsons and ostentatiously wearing a wide range of mini-swords, were recruited in Manali, and ordered to report the next morning at the expedition store in the Trout Hatchery near Patlikuhl, 12 miles down the valley.

Following the usual pattern of high-altitude porterage assistance in Kulu, I arranged for three Ladakhi porters to accompany us for the entire period, a ratio of 1:1. However, this ratio rests on the assumption that the Europeans are at a more than average level of fitness, and mentally attuned to back-packing in the Himalaya. This year one member, after several sedentary years in oriental humidity, felt strongly that only a ratio of 1:2 would permit even a modicum of enjoyment to flavour the climbing. Of course, this Would also double the main overhead cost which would be a serious and perhaps an untenable proposition for a small party. The three Kulu veterans, Wangyal, Zangbo and Palgaon, were recruited with instructions to shepherd the coolies to Patlikuhl on the appointed day.

May 16 wore on sourly when no one turned up at the departure point at the foot of the spur rising steeply to Nagar, but we resignedly concluded that the Tibetans must have broken their word as Banon had predicted. However, the next bus disgorged the coolie team, to the noticeable relief of the other passengers, and we marched them triumphantly to their loads. Our pleasure at the fact that the coolies had actually turned up was short-lived when we discovered that they were three short of the required number. This gave rise to a chronic wrangle over the carriage of the Ladakhis' food supply, packed in three man-loads.

After the two groups had carried out a surreptitious inspection of each other the Tibetans' ring-leaders opened a brisk assault on the agreed rate of Rs.5.50 per day, which was successfully parried by the sahibs. But when the last coolie had lugged his load across to the Tibetan sector of the compound, the three Ladakhi sacks stood forlornly isolated. No amount of cajoling or persuasion served to get the loads incorporated in the coolie camp. After failing to persuade three mela-bound passers-by to accompany us, we played our last cards—we raised the daily rate to Rs.6. The effect was remarkable, if sordid, to contemplate, for the coolies accepted this with alacrity, absorbed the Ladakhi loads somehow in their column and set off up the track to Nagar at an exaggeratedly brisk pace, aware that half the day had already been lost in not unprofitable argument.

That evening we camped above Phulinga, the topmost village in Chakki nullah on a natural step in the spur at 7,600 feet sheltered by deodar pine trees, and enjoying an unrivalled view over the forested rift of the upper Beas Valley and the snowy ramp of the Dhaula Dhar range beyond it.

The critical point of the carry to Base Camp was reached at 9,000 feet the next morning when the van of the column reached the lowest tongue of hard snow protruding down into the forest from the great basin whose rim forms the Kulu /Malana watershed, in which lies the pass. As we had anticipated, some of the porters hesitated at the arctic atmosphere of the country ahead, but we managed to split the column and a substantial proportion of the party followed Wangyal and me in a route which contoured through deep snow around the terminal basin of the Chakki nullah towards the rim. Fortunately we soon discovered a passable site on a partly thawed-out but steep thach (mountain pasture), on which stood a cowherd's shelter, and the faltering remainder were persuaded by long-distance shouting to join us.

Langford and Zangbo spent that afternoon energetically breaking a trail across the basin to the pass while the coolies prepared to bivouac in worsening weather. The cowherd's shelter was speedily requisitioned by the strongest group, another party set to and produced army-type ⁴ bashas' but half the porters merely sat and got wet, alternately demanding and pleading for tents. I had not intended to loan out our high-altitude tents since the route to Base Camp lay within the tree-line, but morale was on the decline ; so I thought it expedient to accommodate all, risking the fabric and the inevitable lice, rather than face a desertion at this critical juncture.

The next day dawned ominously with an overcast sky and we postponed the start until seven o'clock. Two hours later the tail-end of the file had reached the rim of the basin and was negotiating the mixed crest of snow and frozen grass. Hard-packed drifts forced us into spectacular traverses on vertical grass slopes, where the Tibetans abandoned felt-soled boots for bare feet, before we finally crossed the subsidiary spur to look down into the forested vale of Malana from a veritable balcony of the gods. We were impressed by the agility and sure-footed- ness of the Tibetans ; only one man out of the 24 was incompetent in the mountains and the others were quick to point out that unlike them, Khampas and Amdos, he was merely a ‘Tibetan'! Later that day, true to form, the ‘Tibetan' fell out of his steps while traversing a snow-slope on the descent to a bivouac-site in the forest, glissaded involuntarily on his back at high speed for several hundred feet, but surprisingly escaped with only a bruising. As a result of this accident we lost a day's march but, in compensation, I was able to shoot a plump koklas pheasant to supplement the pot. In the vicinity of our camp at 9,500 feet the forest was teeming with game birds.

Two days and much forest later we were established in Base Camp, 12,000 feet, which expressed a compromise between the desire to camp on congenial turf and the need to get close to the snout of the Malana Glacier. Although we were camped on the same contour as the 1961 Base Camp, our site was an hour's march short of the earlier one.

Seven porters had been paid off before the first had counted his roll of rupees and protested that he had been underpaid. In a gesture of their solidarity unimaginable among local Kulu porters, the seven then threw their pay into the slush of the camp-site. The row continued for about 15 minutes. Eventually they were persuaded to withdraw to their bivouac leaving one man to parley. The Ladakhis were fearful, as the Tibetans in Kulu have a bad reputation for resorting to knives in a brawl, and they outnumbered us by four to one.

After several hours of negotiation we conceded defeat when the Tibetans threatened to ‘arrest' the Ladakhis, and paid them the rate of Rs.6 per day for nine days. The usual rate in Kulu for crossing snow-bound passes in the pre-monsoon season is Rs.6 per day, outwards, laden, plus Rs.3 per day, homeward, unladen, the number of days paid being halved for the return. The only compensation we derived from the next three days of continuous snow-fall was a malicious pleasure at the thought of a long line of unhappy Tibetan gentlemen tramping through the snow back to Raison.

Every day the storm put an icy sheath on Ali Ratni Tibba making it the most photogenic and unscalable-looking aiguille any of us had ever seen. But it was May 25 before we emerged from the snowed-in camp to break trail to the snout of the Malana Glacier and locate a site for Camp I just above the first ice-fall at 13,000 feet. For the next three days we ferried supplies sufficient for 16 days to the Malana Glacier. Our route contoured around the head of the valley gaining height steadily except for the crossing of two deep and prominent couloirs. The northernmost should be treated with circumspection as it funnels all the avalanche debris discharging from a freely calving hanging glacier on the southern edge of the second shelf of the triple-decked Deo Tibba Massif. Immediately before the couloir stands the prominent perched block used for generations by the Ghaddis (nomadic hill shepherds from Kangra), and requisitioned briefly for a Base Camp kitchen in 1961 by the Derbyshire party. It served now to mark a welcome resting place amidst nostalgic surroundings. Whereas in 1961 we had continued to contour beyond the couloirs mentioned above, and over the conspicuous, steep shoulder abutting on the true right bank of the glacier, thus avoiding loss of height and dropping effortlessly on to the level surface of the glacier well above the snout, this season the deep snow forced us to sacrifice our height advantage.

We reluctantly descended the crumbling wall of the lateral moraine and painfully climbed the snout. The steep ascent to Camp I punished the unfit but, in the main, we seemed a well-acclimatized party which was probably due to the enforced back-packing over the steadily ascending approach march. At Camp I Langford conceived the brilliant idea of erecting an awning—formed from a one-man tent—between the Black's mountain tent and the Meade. At noon the shade temperature was 40° cooler than the interior of the tents and the siesta made obligatory by the snow condition became a pleasure. It was proposed that as the next day was the twelfth anniversary of the ascent of Everest we should duly celebrate it by climbing a virgin peak ; this would also be a welcome diversion from the hard labour of breaking a trail to the Sara Umga La. We decided to attempt a shapely, double-headed mountain in the east containing wall of the Malana Glacier's principal tributary, the East Glacier of Ali Ratni Tibba, henceforth called the East Glacier.

At four o'clock the next morning we left Camp I and descended in the dark over mysterious glacial undulations to the junction of the glaciers, turning east as the first rays of the sun silvered the topmost snows. Our line took the snow- covered lateral moraine to reach the upper neves. On the level snow-field, a prominent feature as the massif is viewed from the north-west, we turned south and contoured steadily around a deep basin. This was succeeded by a steep slope of several hundred feet bordering a precipitous ice-cliff. The firm crisp snow facilitated a speedy ascent and we emerged from the slope on the highest plateau of the neve from which the arete of our choice rose to its twin-headed summit. Langford and Zangbo had reached the plateau by a different route and now joined us. Henty and Palgaon were still several hundred feet below, negotiating the neves. As we were resting, absorbed in the panoramic view of all the Kulu mountains to the northwest, Zangbo suddenly pointed across the plateau where an enormous bird was laboriously taking off. At first glance I took the creature for an ibex! It was a ramchukor (Himalayan snowcock) as big as a peafowl, running clumsily across the snow. From this encounter we named our objective Ramchukor Peak.

Roped in pairs we climbed the graceful and exhilarating arete in classic fashion. A short traverse over the steep terminal shoulder of the North Ridge brought us on to the lower summit at eight o'clock. To the south was a group of unclimbed peaks, their west faces rising from the East Glacier. One of them especially caught our eyes ; its summit was a slender blade of rock terminating abruptly and squarely like a chisel. Langford promptly named it The Screwdriver.

From our foretop the ridge descended in a bad step, a crumbling shale shelf from which we jumped on to the corniced ridge. The next cluster of disintegrating gendarmes was turned on the west side by descending a steep wall of rotten ice, and then gingerly skirting their bases. Finally we zigzagged up the final slope with a wary eye on the massive cornice which overhung the east face. The climb had taken just over four hours from Camp I. Our height according to the aneroid barometer was 17,025 feet.

At nine o'clock, as we were reluctantly preparing to leave our splendid viewpoint, we saw Henty and Palgaon arriving at the foretop. They obviously intended to wait there for our return, so we commenced the descent on snow already the consistency of sugar. Once or twice steps collapsed under us and we suspected that the slope would quickly become treacherous. After resting briefly on the plateau to unrope and remove surplus clothing we retaliated against the long, steep neves of the morning by descending in Gargantuan leaps and bounds.

May 30 marked the start of the journey to locate and climb the Sara Umga La. Henty was hors de combat from the previous day's exertions and the rest of the party was somewhat sluggish. However, we aimed to reach the second pass at 15,000 feet leading into the upper Tos nullah, which we named the Pass of the Animals, and place a camp on the Col. This we duly accomplished, stimulated by one of the finest views in Kulu— the unrivalled prospect of the majestic mountains forming the Kulu/Lahul watershed. Papsura, 21,165 feet, looked formidable of structure and approach but we thought we saw the deep notch of the Sara Umga La by which we hoped to carry a reconnaissance towards the mountain. Later, it was obvious that we had correctly identified the pass. Camp II established, we withdrew down to Camp I, pausing briefly to examine the substantial cairns built on our first crossing of the pass in 1961.⁸ We glissaded much of the descent and I am convinced that skis would be worth their weight in gold here during the pre-monsoon season.

On the last day in May we again hauled up the drawbridge by shifting the bulk of Camp I to the Pass of the Animals. An identical pattern of ferry was executed when we advanced Camp III to a sheltered site under the curve of the great lateral moraine of the true right bank of the Tos Glacier as it swings south at the head of the main Tos nullah.

Looking northwards from the crest of the great moraine, we identified the Sara Umga La as a textbook col flanked by monumental buttresses of red rock. The approach, on June 3, lay across the mainstream of the Tos Glacier and the route over the ice gave us interesting views of the unexplored group of mountains lying to the north-west, from which the west branch of the glacier emanates. We aimed diagonally across the glacier, working upstream from the Sara Umga La and looking for a footing on the unattractive gullies and buttresses of the highly weathered moraine wall which steeply bordered the north side of the valley.

A prominent couloir seemed to give access to the upper slopes leading to the pass, but ultimately our way was barred by a steep rock rib which we eventually turned by a delicate traverse over an uncertain mixture of ice and rock. Our way now wended eastwards over the neves aiming at the elusive crest-line. Gradually a shapely summit oscillated into view; the north-westerly satellite, Point 20,300 feet, of Papsura, shortly to be joined by the distinctive peaks of Lahul above the Chota Dara region of the Chandra Valley, which I easily identified.⁹ We had climbed the pass, and it possessed all the atmosphere we had imagined from its former role. It remained to dump the supplies and return to Camp III for the tents.

This we did with difficulty since a snow-fall the previous night, coupled with an overcast sky, had softened the lower slopes of the ascent to the pass and, being heavily laden, we floundered through the crust at every step, cursing colourfully. Fortunately the surface of the upper slopes bore our weight and we regained the Col gratefully. At noon a snowstorm set in from the south and we were incarcerated for the next 40 hours, the climax occurring the following day at four o'clock in the afternoon when we estimated the gusts at 60-70 m.p.h. The pressure on the Ladakhis' Meade, a veteran of four Himalayan seasons, proved too much and the roof split vertically down the side seam. Coated with rime, sitting phlegmatically in the icy interior, the imperturbable Ladakhis found needle and thread and commenced sewing up the seam!

Parties in Kulu pre-monsoon can expect to lose 25 per cent of their working days in bad weather. Despite the locals' view that the bad weather of recent summers can be attributed to the wrath of the gods at the impious scattering of Mr. Nehru's ashes from an aeroplane, or to Chinese Atom Bomb tests in l ibet, the uncertainty of Kulu weather, pre-monsoon, can be ascertained from every account of mountaineering there since (he days of Bruce.

Two Ladakhis, Langford and I, supported by Henty and Palgaon for the day, set off from Camp IV on June 8 carrying a light camp for the reconnaissance of Papsura, 21,165 feet, from the south and west. Ahead was the east wall of the Chota Shigri Glacier from which flowed two tributary glaciers having their origin in a common neve at the foot of Point 20,300 feet, the north-westerly outlier of Papsura, but separated by a great buttress of red rock. The more direct route lay over the nearest, or southernmost glacier, gentle in gradient but dangerously exposed to avalanches from the ice-cap directly above it. Hence we chose the northernmost glacier, avoiding the low- lying snout by means of a conspicuous couloir between the two glaciers, which placed us half-way up the colossal red wall to the south-west. After three hours we reached the plateau, which we crossed to its abrupt termination in a great cornice. Beneath us the supporting wall fell precipitously into an unknown glacier cwm draining west into the lower (northerly) reaches of the Chota Shigri Glacier. Our lofty plateau at 18,025 feet was bounded on the west by an indeterminate rock ridge and on the north-east by the steep and icy flanks of Point 20,300 feet. Our hope of traversing around the north side of the latter for a view of this approach to Papsura was dashed by the unexpected intrusion of the savage-looking cwm, unmarked on Survey of India Sheet 53 E.-NW. NE. Beyond the cwm to the north was the great square-topped mountain—a landmark in Lahul—shown as the northernmost (21,200 feet) of two 21,000- foot peaks on Holmes' sketch-map of the Spiti-Lahul-Kulu watersheds.¹⁰ We are confident that this peak does not exceed 20,000 feet, being in the same category as Point 20,300 feet, which Holmes marks as the southernmost 21,000-foot peak. Papsura is therefore restored to its former seniority in the northern section of the Divide.

However, it was obviously possible to traverse the neves eastward to their termination against the South Ridge of Point 20,300 feet from which we should obtain a good view of the western aspect of Papsura.

The next morning we skirted the basin under the precipitous walls of Point 20,300 feet observing a forked couloir in the south face which, in better conditions, would be climbable. The flank of the ridge was defended by a bergschrund which Wangyal stormed ebulliently. Once on the ridge, in a shallow col, we saw more or less what we had expected. A steep-walled cirque, the back (north) wall linking Point 20,300 feet and Papsura, drained to the south-east in an easy glacier tributary of the Tos East Glacier, in line with which we identified Point 19,061 feet first climbed by Colonel J. O. M. Roberts in 1941.¹¹

A study of Papsura was discouraging. To the north a broad shallow couloir led to the lowest point of the ridge connecting Point 20,300 feet with Papsura, but its outlet was blocked and overhung by dangerous ice-cliffs. Moving around the steep west face to the south, at a lower level, more ice-cliffs dominated the scene until they merged with the bastion-like buttresses of the South Ridge. Depressed by the perishing cold of our exposed viewpoint and the uncompromising nature of Papsura, we turned to warmer views of Deo Tibba and Indrasan in the south-west. Ali Ratni Tibba loomed large on the southern horizon and this view seemed to belie its reputed 18,013 feet.

Returning to our plateau camp, we struck it and descended to the Sara Umga La, Langford and I making a route down the snout of the ascent glacier. On our return to camp Henty and Palgaon confirmed that the Chota Shigri Glacier led easily into the Chandra Valley. Picking up the camp after a brief rest we plunged down in the face of a gathering storm to old Camp III beneath the moraines of the Tos Glacier where we arrived weary, wet and cold in the late afternoon.

Thursday, June 10, was an epic day's back-packing of nine and a half hours' duration which none of us will ever forget. After strenuously striking the frozen camp we broke trail away from the Divide at six o'clock. As the sun gained strength the route became an obstacle course set by a malicious snow god, of spurs, basins and endlessly unfolding whale-backs. No one should ever climb in this area again in the pre-monsoon without skis!

Resting on the Pass of the Animals at 15,025 feet near the twin cairns built by our party of Ladakhi and British climbers in 1961, I reflected how symbolic they were of our teamwork in these mountains. There would be no expedition successes in Kulu without the participation of these hardy and cheerful hillmen.

The recovery of our cache at Camp I marked the last phase of our expedition. Henty, Palgaon and Zangbo would climb in the group of virgin peaks east of our camp, above the East Glacier, while Langford, Wangyal and I would carry out a close reconnaissance of Ali Ratni Tibba by circumnavigating the base of the peak.

Evidently the East Glacier was fed by neves accumulating from Dome Peak, across the glacier to the north-east of Ali Ratni Tibba, and from the flanks of the latter. It seemed likely that another pass could be made into the lower Tos nullah from this glacier but we had no time to confirm this.

On June 12 we left the East Glacier by a conspicuous ice-fall beneath the east face of Ali Ratni Tibba, climbing the first part, by a steep couloir exposed to falling ice from the upper terraces of the face. At 700 feet we were able to cross an avalanche runnel on to easy neves. These we followed round to gain the high plateau giving access to the unclimbable South Ridge and the west face of Ali Ratni Tibba. Camp was established at 15,500 feet on the Col between the mountain and the scattered group of aiguilles known as the Manikaren Spires. To the north, descending steeply, the West Glacier, which we intended to explore, led back to the Malana nullah. Our return there via the West Glacier made a new pass which we named Pass of the Obelisks from the many rock spires in its vicinity.

We climbed a viewpoint at 16,500 feet to the west the next day to examine the west face, cut-off North-west Ridge and South Ridge of the mountain. If the upper North-west Ridge could be gained, then it would offer the best chance of an ascent of the mountain ; but its lower section terminates in an astonishing vertical cliff more than 1,000 feet high, so it would have to be reached by traversing the steep complex of rock walls and ice-fields of the west face. Such a route would require considerable resources and a prolonged period of preparation, probably from a well-established camp in the Pass of the Obelisks, which could be supplied without difficulty from the Malana nullah.

The party returned to the pass, struck camp and descended the unknown glacier to a new site above the conspicuous ice-fall —a notable landmark on the West Glacier as seen from the Derbyshire Base Camp-site across the Malana River. In the evening, on the mist-wreathed glacier, we reconnoitred the first part of the ice-fall and decided that the best line for the descent lay down the true left bank.

Next morning an avalanche fan gave a steep but firm descent through the spectacular 1,200-foot ice-fall and in 30 minutes we had descended to the level glacier. Without difficulty we rejoined the Malana Valley, impressed by a rich, fecund smell after sterile weeks on the snow. The party was reunited in Base Camp to which Henty and the Ladakhis had already evacuated Camp I, having achieved the first ascent of the northernmost peak in the group, unnamed Point 16,800 feet.

With coolies recruited from the mountain-girt and mysterious community of Malana, 8,740 feet, where we revived the ancient custom of presenting a silver horse symbol to the temple of the god Jang Jamlu, we withdrew from the area in a memorable and strenuous afternoon's march down the remarkable and precipitous gorge of the Malana River, reaching the motorable road of the Parbati Valley at Jari, 5,260 feet, where we sought refuge at the forest rest-house in the evening of June 17.

⇑ Top