AMERICAN KANGCHENJUNGA EXPEDITION, 1989

GREG WILSON

LED BY LOU WHITTAKER our expedition consisted of George Dunn, Phil Ershler, Jim Hamilton, Robert Link, Larry Nielsen, Doctor Howard Putter, John Roskelley, Eric Simonson, Craig Van Hoy, F.d Viesturs, Jim Wickwire, Skip Yowell, and me. We were also joined by Nawang Gombu and six other Sherpas along with a Sherpa base camp cook staff. In addition, four Indonesian climbers travelled to base camp with us as training for a future Himalayan expedition of their own.

We faced a seemingly unending series of complications, beginning with troubles financing the expedition. Originally, the expedition was booked for the south side of the mountain, but as a sign of goodwill we traded permits with a Russian team, which had designs to summit all five peaks (if Kangchenjunga. This is only possible from the south; therefore, we made the trade and put ourselves in the position of facing a technically more demanding route, the north face. But more importantly, we put ourselves Into a serious time crunch. Not only had we traded sides, but seasons as well. Originally, the permit we held scheduled our attempt for the fall of 1989. Our trade left us holding a permit for the spring of 1989, leaving us just four months to raise the funds, collect the gear, prepare It for shipping, and get it on its way in time for the pre-monsoon climbing which was rapidly approaching.

We put the expedition together with lightning speed, although funding wasn't guaranteed until well after we had left the United States.

We arrived in Kathmandu 18 March and flew to Taplejung on 21 March with the exception of Hamilton, Simonson, and Van Hoy who were working on logistics, staffing, and tying up other loose ends. They had arrived earlier in Nepal to oversee these operations, the nuts and bolts of the expedition.

We arrived in Taplejung with nothing more than a handful of gear. As with all expeditions timing is everything and our expedition was about to suffer miserably in this department. 'Everything' was about to go wrong. Our expedition would, in the end, be forced to hurdle a seemingly Infinite number of road blocks. Everyday seemed to provide yet another unexpected and abnormal challenge.

It wasn't long before we learned that the 1600 kg of gear we had shipped by boat earlier in the year had arrived late upon the shore of India and suffered further delays due to an enormous and unusual amount of red tape. This was all soon to be complicated by the political bad waters shared by India and Nepal, resulting in a border closure, and creating, among other problems, a crippling fuel shortage in Nepal. This all came to haunt, in particular, Simonson, who was dealing with all these logistical nightmares first-hand as the rest of us trekked our way into base camp.

He found himself rebounding like a commuter between Kathmandu and Calcutta working as the team's problem solver, and forever jumping through the series of hoops established by the Indian government. Without his persistence the expedition would not have left the ground.

Meanwhile, both Hamilton and Van Hoy were moving up the trail with porters carrying what little gear we did have available for transport at that time. As our team arrived in Ghunsa, a small settlement three days short of Pang Pema, the base camp to the north face of Kangchenjunga, we were greeted by heavy rains. This managed to dampen everything, including our spirit, for we also learned that the bulk of our gear, the 1600 kg shipped to India, was not being transported as expected. It was behind schedule and its precise whereabouts was uncertain. Communication at this point was, at best, difficult, but mostly it was non-existent between Ghunsa, Taplejung, Kathmandu and Calcutta. Our expedition had ground to a halt. Naturally, we were hesitant to proceed without knowing the status of our gear. We spent the days of endless rain in makeshift tentage and began to lose weight on our diet of bottomless bowls of rice.

Lou Whittaker and Nawang Gombu spent all their energy playing detectives in the search for the gear. It became increasingly possible that the equipment may not arrive. The expedition faced the likelihood of being forced to turn its back on Kangchenjunga without ever having an opportunity to even see the mountain, much less set foot on it. We wondered how many other expeditions throughout history had faced similar frustrations. How many others had failed to reach base camp? Many team members began making plans to somehow salvage their spring upon their premature return to the USA. Others weighed the odds, the practicality, and the sanity of attempting Kangchenjunga armed with little more than desire and a few chappattis.

Our gear remained a mystery until a Radio Nepal broadcast caught someone's ear one evening. It gave us a clue. A trade embargo had been declared between India and Nepal. We suspected our gear was being held hostage by this development, a suspicion which proved correct in the end. Whittaker and Gombu continued with their relentless but unrewarding attempts to confirm the location of our equipment as the rest of us hiked the final days into base camp with nothing more than a few scraps of gear, and the hope that the rest of our equipment would someday find us. Although our dreams of climbing Kangchenjunga were rapidly fading we set about the climb of the mountain just the same.

We arrived at Pang Pema, the 5030 m base camp to the north face, on 6 April. On 9 April Cl was sited on the gently sloping Kangchenjunga glacier at 5170 m by Dunn and Viesturs. We found ourselves somewhat frustrated as no news had been sent by messenger from Ghunsa as arranged prior to our leaving for base camp.

We could only assume that our gear was still caught 'behind enemy lines', but the climbing continued as Dunn, Viesturs, and I broke new ground beyond Cl. We managed to pick our way through the maze of broken ice at 5170 m giving access to the west of Kangchenjunga, crux of the climb.

Meanwhile, we had received word that Whittaker was on his way to base camp to deliver a message. Most of us felt he was about to confirm the worst of our fears, official cancellation of the expedition. As it turned out he came bearing good news. The gear" was on its way.

Through nothing less than his yeoman and solitary efforts, Simonson had managed to free our gear from the clutches of Indian bureaucracy. He also regained some of the valuable time lost by expediting the equipment with his arrangement to have it flown by army Puma helicopter to Ghunsa. It was then portered as quickly as possible to Pang Pema. Our expedition would have surely failed without the benefit of his dogged persistence.

When our gear finally did arrive it was three weeks late and only seventy-five per cent complete, but word of its whereabouts was enough to renew our enthusiasm for the climb. The expedition gained momentum with the news and C2 was established on 13 April by Ershler and Viesturs. Dunn, Link, Nielsen, and I began reconnoitering the route up and onto the west wall. When we reached the base of the wall it was getting late In the day and the weather was somewhat uncertain, but Nielsen was psyched to get the show on the road. He led the first two pitches over hard ice and loose rock to the bottom of a staggering vertical chimney filled with more ice and uncertain snow. He begged to continue the lead, but given the time of day and the lightly falling snow we felt it best to call it a day and reeled him in.

We returned to C2 which was planted in a cirque of thundering rock arid Ice, and while the camp was never hit by debris we slept lightly those first few nights. It was intimidating to sit in our tents, hear the rocks break loose from high above, scream through the sky, and then suddenly stop with a great eerie thud, planted just outside the tent door. We soon learned that the sound was much more threatening than the rock and soon became comfortable with the site.

The following day, Nielsen completed his lead up the chimney with great anticipation while Link and I gratefully followed carrying hardware and rope. This turned out to be the crux of the lower half of the wall en route to C3.

The west wall proved to be the most challenging stretch of the climb. After much delfberation, we finally agreed on a line between Scott's and Messner's. Even the slightest snowfall was cause for concern as there were many pockets that could easily load with snow. We were convinced that our route was the safest up the wall; however, rockfall and avalanche hazards were a constant concern.

Roskelley and Wickwire joined our expedition on 15 April and, along with Viesturs, took the lead for the next 300 m of mixed rock and ice. Roskelley and Viesturs climbed quickly and efficiently, fixing ropes to within one pitch of C3, which Ershler and Van Hoy completed on 20 April, placing the camp in the bergscrund found at 6550 m.

Link, Nielsen, and I moved into the camp and hoped to push the ropes further towards the col. Our climb had been going quickly, but was about to change as the steep Ice and rock complicated by poor weather, slowed our progress. C4 would not be established for nearly another three weeks. Nielsen made daring attempts in blasting winds and variable visibility to lead out of C3, but it was futile. After numerous attempts we abandoned our efforts and rappeled 460 m in severe winds and spindrift avalanches on our retreat to base camp.

With improving weather, Roskelley and Viesturs took over the lead once again, Roskelley engineering a tricky traverse into a narrow ice-filled gully, which opened up onto the less demanding slopes above and gateway to the north col. They fixed ropes all the way to the col, a major step in climbing Kangchenjunga. In all, nearly 1200 m of rope was fixed on this section, which required constant maintenance, as the anchors melted out daily and the ropes wore quickly.

Roskelley and Wickwire decided to call it quits at this point and promptly returned to the United States. Viesturs elected to remain at C3 to continue work on the mountain and was soon joined by Dunn, Ershler and Van Hoy. They led above the north col and onto the narrowing north ridge to establish C4 adjacent to a small but protective rock outcropping. It was situated just below the next major obstacle, a 150 m rock step that was dubbed 'The Castle' by Doug Scott's team in 1979. We were rewarded with views of Everest and Makalu off to one side of the ridge and to the other side the barren Tibetan plateau stretched off to blend with the horizon.

Once again Link, Nielsen, and I were the first to occupy this camp at 7310 m. And, once again, the weather took a turn for the worse. We began to feel the butt-end of a bad practical joke as the weather fluctuated for the worse everytime we tried to make a move on the mountain. Undaunted, we struck out in knee-deep snow and alarming snow conditions, wondering if we were about to be swept onto those Tibetan highlands we'd admired so fondly just the evening before.

We punched our way up to the base of 'The Castle' the first day in very inconsistent and uncertain snow. On the second day we continued up and through the rock band with Nielsen in the lead, continuing his knack for attacking the most difficult pitches on the business end of the rope with great vigor. He led with speed and accuracy as distant thunderheads grew in size and marched closer. It was snowing heavily when we reached the top and visibility was poor. We left a cache of food and supplies on top of the band hoping optimistically to pick it up the following day en route to establishing C5, which would, ideally, be followed with a jaunt to the summit. But the weather continued to build. Snow driven by stiff winds continued to hammer us with increasing velocity. We spent the remaining days staring at each other, playing word games, such as trying to name the fifty states and their capitols. This was not an easy task at 7300 m. We broke up this certain road to insanity by taking turns shoveling out the great amounts of snow threatening to collapse our tent into a nylon coffin. Our stay at this altitude was robbing our strength. The summit was slipping away from us. The weather wasn't showing any signs of forgiving. We decided to descend the 1500 m to C2 and regroup for our next effort.

In the meantime, Ershler, Van Hoy, and Viesturs had left C2. They climbed through C3 and C4 on successive days and went on to establish C5 on 17 May. They dug out a tiny platform not quite large enough to pitch the entire tent on the north fact at 8000 m.

The following day dawned clear and warm. It was the kind of day a climber dreams about in the Himalaya. They reached the summit without complication in just under nine hours of climbing on steep snow and ice along with some mixed terrain. Van Hoy and Viesturs climbed without oxygen.

After one day of rest at 5790 m Link, Nielsen, and I made our way back up the west wall to occupy high camp on 19 May. On 20 May the weather turned, as we had learned to expect. We attempted to climb to the summit nonetheless. After two hours of pot-holing, poor visibility, and shouting in attempts to communicate we realized it was useless. We turned back. We considered a full descent and nearly threw In the towel, figuring Kangchenjunga just wasn't in the cards for us, all the signals had seemed wrong throughout the expedition. But we chose to persevere. Afterall, this was our chance and we probably wouldn't have the opportunity to return. We waited one more day. On 21 May the weather turned out to be reasonable. In our case it was not a day you'd dream for, but the type of day you'd expect in the Himalaya, cold and windy. Link led strongly through the deep snow deposited by the previous day's storm as Nielsen and I followed climbing without oxygen. We reached the summit at 3.30 p.m. putting an end to the ordeal, our ambitions temporarily, and the expedition.

The ascent of Kangchenjunga (8586 m) from the north.

 

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