HIMALAYAN JOURNAL: VOL. III (1931)

AAMIR ALI

VOLUME II (1930) was, we are told, 'very well received,' as indeed Vol. I had been. Since about 500 copies of the Journal were distributed free, it was 'impossible to expect the first few volumes to pay for themselves.' It was difficult to get more advertisements because the trade depression was forcing firms to economise.

The Honorary Secretary of the Club, Mr. G. Mackworth Young, reported to the Annual General Meeting (AGM) in March 1931, 'Our Honorary Editor asks me again to thank those who helped to make the Journal a success. It may interest you to know that we have had demands for the Journal from such widely separated places on the earth's surface as San Francisco, Peking and Melbourne, while (i further compliment was paid to the Journal in 1930 by the election of the Honorary Editor to Honorary Membership of the French Alpine Club.'

The Honorary Editor was not one to rest on his honorary laurels so under Club Notices, we find: 'It is hoped to publish the Fourth Volume of the HJ in April 1932. All papers and other communications for publication must reach the Honorary Editor, Major Kenneth Mason, Survey of India, in Maymyo, Burma, by 31st December 1931. The non-receipt of promised papers causes delay in publication, and much itdditional work to the Honorary Editor.' A cry from the heart, moderately expressed, that has no doubt been echoed by all subsequent editors ol the HJ — indeed, by all editors that ever were.

Volume III was published in April 1931, and was of course edited by Kenneth Mason (now stationed in Maymyo, it would seem — Burma had not yet been separated from India) published by Thacker Spink and Co., and still cost only Rs. 5 or 8s. It had 11 articles plus the usual notes, reviews, proceedings and so on, 172 pages, Ncveral illustrations and five maps which were reproduced at the Survey ul India Offices at Calcutta or Simla.

It had perhaps less of purely scientific interest and less devotion tit shikar than earlier volumes; Kangchenjunga continued to dominate the- climbing scene; Central Asia remained a strong magnet; and Mason hml obviously managed to persuade at least two members to yield up their diaries, one of which, added to a couple of other articles, provides quite fascinating political and historical views of the Frontier region. We meet some faithful friends from previous volumes: Ludlow, Gunn, Todd, Trinkler, the Vissers, Schomberg, Bauer, Morshead, Kingdon Ward. Alas,«,no Mrs Lethbridge, though Capt. J.S. Lethbridge, R.E., Staff College, Quetta, remains the Honorary Assistant Editor for Lahul and Spiti.

Mountaineering

Vol. II had carried an account of Paul Bauer's expedition .to Kangchenjunga, 1929; Vol. III has a review by T.H. Somervell of Bauer's book of that expedition Im Kampf um den Himalaja. Somervell considered the book a model of what such a book should be, well printed, just the right length, 174 pages, well illustrated. Incidentally, it is interesting to speculate when it ceased to be obligatory — or profitable — for each major expedition to produce a book: say about 1960?

Kangchenjunga once again enjoyed centre stage in Vol. III. Prof. G.O. Dyhrenfurth, the leader, wrote an account of 'The International Himalayan Expedition, 1930'. Dyhrenfurth was a German scientist based in Switzerland; his expedition consisted of five Germans, three Englishmen, two Swiss and one Austrian. (How did he get them together?) Mrs Dyhrenfurth was secretary and quartermaster. One of the Englishmen was Frank Smythe, who served as reporter to the English press. None of the members had had previous Himalayan experience.

Symthe's own account of the expedition, The Kangchenjunga Adventure, is reviewed' by E.F. Norton (another member of Everest expeditions who seems to have taken to book reviewing as readily as a Sherpa to Everest); under Club Proceedings, there is a short note about the expedition; the Director, Map Publication, Col. R.H. Phillimore continues the discussion of the name 'Kangchenjunga' begun in the last volume.

In Delhi, Dyhrenfurth was invited to lunch by the Viceroy, Lord Irwin¹, member of the HC, as also by Sir William Birdwood, President of the HC, soon to retire to England, who 'was kind enough to attach a Gurkha to the expedition'. In Darjeeling, Lt. Col. Tobin put himself at the disposal of the expedition 'in the kindest way for the organization and management of our transport'.

 

And help for transport was certainly needed. Unlike Bauer's efficient arrangements, Dyhrenfurth seems fb have arrived in Darjeeling with no advance preparations. 'It was only the splendid efforts of Col. Tobin and Messrs Wood Johnson and Hannah (sid that saved the situation though the tasks that were demanded of them were often unfair,' writes Norton. It is surprising that Norton took Hannah, Dyhrenfurth's hard-working wife, for a male of the species, and even more surprising that the meticulous Mason did not pick up this sexual solecism. (Perhaps he was under the bemused influence of the decision taken by the AGM on 14 March 1931 that ladies should be eligible for full membership of the HC on the same basis as men.)

'The whole question of supply and transport seems to have been neglected until the eve of departure from Darjeeling,' wrote Norton. Nor is it easy to understand the predilection of the organizers of the expedition for supplying single layers of heavy warm clothing and boots weighing — as Mr. Smythe feelingly assures us — as much as six and a half pounds the pair, in the face of all experience Antarctic and Himalayan — in favour of a diametrically opposite policy.' Chris Bonington, in The Climbers, 1992,² quotes Smythe as raying that Dyhrenfurth 'supplied the team with: a tricot coat weighing six pounds; breeches, three pounds six ounces; sweater, two pounds ten ounces; outer wind jacket, three pounds. I can only describe the boots as portmanteaus. They weighed six and a half pounds a pair .wid each was nailed with sixty clinker and tricouni nails.' Dyhrenfurth was not amused by Smythe's criticism of the expedition's boots, 'which he (Smythe) loved to laugh at.'

Dyhrenfurth had brought enough Alpine equipment for about 70-80 men, but not for the 300 that they needed. 'Nevertheless the Kang La (16,454 ft) had to be forced;' writes the intrepid Dyhrenfurth, 'the success of the whole expedition depended on it... Although we had distributed 70 pairs of good Bavarian mountaineering shoes, there wt-re still a few coolies left who had to go barefoot. Also we had only 240 pairs of snow-glasses.³ Nevertheless, we succeeded in traversing the pass in one day with our main body... Many porters of the «i'<xind party, frightened at the prospect of crossing the Kang La, rnn away.' (Well, the naughty little scaredy-cats!)

 

The expedition had 350 coolie loads. By comparison, Dyhrenfurth points out, the Vissers took 450 porters on their last expedition for half the number of Europeans; the 3rd Everest expedition had 70 porters and 350 animals carrying about 770 coolie loads.

The expedition attempted the northwest face, underrating the danger of avalanches. On 9 May, 'when Camp 3 was about to be prepared,' writes the leader, 'a great mass of the hanging glacier above, broke away and the ice-avalanche, so dramatically described by Smythe who was an eye-witness of it from below, came down. There our gallant Chettan met his death.' Evidently, he was struck by a block of ice and died instantly, though we do not learn this from the article.

Smythe, in his book, does give a much more graphic description of the avalanche danger and a less laconic account of Chettan's death. 'Sleeping and waking, the climbers and their devoted porters were never free from the imminent fear of destruction by avalanches,' he wrote. 'It is dear that nothing but amazing good fortune limited the casualty list to one valuable life — that of the gallant Chettan, hero and "bad hat" (in his wild youth) of the 1922 and 1924 attempts on Mount Everest, proved and tested veteran of four subsequent major expeditions.'

Dyhrenfurth, methinks, protests too much about not being responsible for the death. 'War with these Himalayan giants entails hard and relentless fighting;... Have not the Everest expeditions, which were prepared with the minutest care, also cost a number of lives ?... "C'est la guerre!"'

And one is tempted to respond, 'Pas du tout, ce n'est pas la guerre, c'est le sport.' The difference between Dyhrenfurth and Smythe is clearly brought out by what the latter wrote in The Valley of Flowers, 1938:4 'Everest, Kangchenjunga and Nanga Parbat are "duties," but mountaineering in Garhwal is a pleasure — thank God.'

Chettan also gets more sympathetic attention in other parts of the Journal. Tom Longstaff contributes a long obituary. Chettan had begun s a personal attendant to Finch on the 2nd Everest expedition. He went up twice to Camp 5. In *1924, he was one of the 'Tigers'; one of two men chosen by Hingston to accompany him when bringing Norton snowblind down from the North Col. 'Chettan was intelligent and quick to learn. Also he was particularly easy to get on with... He was on the road to be a guide, with all that word implies among mountaineers, which is that the servant becomes a companion and a friend.'

Les Alpes of July 1993 has a full scale article by Dr. Hanspeter Schmid, who has been stationed in Nepal for the last three years. Here are some extracts (Translation mine). 'In early April 1993, six porters, men and women, lost their lives in a storm, during a trek round Manaslu, while the tourists they were serving had left them, frightened. This event is however only the tip of the iceberg... I have been informed of dozens of cases where porters have died, been seriously hurt, fallen sick, or suffered from ophthalmia, etc' ^4. F.S. Smythe, The Valley of Flowers, Hodder and Stoughton, 1938. The power of a name: because Symthe called the Bhyundar valley the Valley of Flowers, it has become a major tourist attraction; no doubt the tourists are busy destroying the flowers.

 

At the AGM in March 1931, the HC decided to erect a memorial at Darjeeling to Chettan and the Eastern Section was asked to prepare a design and estimates, preferably in the form of a 'Chorten'. Was the memorial erected? Does it still exist? Have any other Sherpas been thus honoured?

Dyhrenfurth's expedition did not succeed in its main objective, but it did climb four peaks of over 7000 m, including Jongsang, 24,473 ft (7483 m), the highest summit so far climbed, though not, as the Secretary of the HC stressed, 'the highest altitude reached.' Norton (who had reached that altitude of 28,126 ft or 8570 m on Everest in 1924; a record overtaken only in 1952 by Raymond Lambert and Tensing, though Mallory and Irvine had last been seen at an estimated 8700 m) also sniffed at the fuss being made of Jongsang: 'a well-earned consolation prize, but as a mountaineering feat it scarcely merits the prominence accorded to it in the press'. By comparison, Dr Longstaff's 'feat in conquering Trisul in 1907 by a climb of 6000 ft up and down in one day constitutes a tour de force worthy of more remark.' A whiff of Anglo-German rivalry in these comments? Not quite the brotherly love that overflowed when the HC feasted Paul Bauer's expedition in 1929, repo'rted in Vol. II? But then Bauer came through as a much more likeable person.

The name of Dyhrenfurth has become familiar in the annals of Himalayan climbing, having been continued by his son Norman, who led the American expedition to Everest in 1963. But the Professor does not emerge as a very sympathique person. His opening paragraphs, defensively aggressive and replete with exclamation marks, set the tone. 'Was it successful, this expedition of ours ? Some people say, No! for the newspapers proclaimed loudly... we were out to conquer Kangchenjunga, and this ascent did not succeed. Therefore — a failure! I am not responsible for what newspapers say!'

Back at Darjeeling, the Governor of Bengal invited the expedition to lunch and at Calcutta, the Rotary Club and the HC gave dinners In their honour.

Incidentally, the Honorary Secretary had told the AGM that 'Mr. F.S. Smythe, who joined the Club after the Kangchenjunga Expedition, hopes this year to attempt the conquest of Kamet, which has baffled the efforts of such experienced mountaineers as Mr, C.F. Meade, Dr. Longstaff, Dr. Kellas, and Colonel Morshead, in the past' The section on Notes informs readers that in view of Frank Smythe's proposed expedition to Kamet that year (1931), a recital of previous attempts — eight since the reconnaissancce of Bruce, Longstaff and Mumm in 1907 — had been compiled with the help of T. Longstaff.

A note in Vol. II by HTM had recommended the Tibetan inspired spelling Kangchen Dzo-nga; in Vol III Col. R.H. Phillimore, Director, Map Publication, writes with impressive formality, The Surveyor-General has asked me to let you know that he is by no means convinced of the Tibetan origin of this name... It is unlikely that the Tibetans, who are not in the custom of naming their own mountains, would invent a special name for a mountain beyond their borders.'

With the support of Dr. Hara Prasad Shastri, 'the greatest Sanskrit Scholar now in Bengal', he suggests a Sanskrit origin; Kancan (golden) and Jungha (thigh). The Editor could not resist bringing this high-faluting discussion down to earth. His comment began, 'Probably nobody is prepared to be burnt at the stake for the sake of a "g" in Kangchenjunga.'⁵

 

So much for Kangchenjunga. Then we turn to the other end of the Himalaya, to Nanga Parbat, Brig. General the Hon. C.G. Bruce has given a most readable account of 'The Passing of Mummery', 'one of the greatest and most adventurous of British mountaineers of all time.' Bruce himself, as a young lieutenant, had accompanied Sir Martin Conway's expedition to the Karakoram in 1892; thirty years later he led the 1922 expedition to Everest.

In 1895, Bruce was holidaying with his wife in Kagan, exploring the area with four Gurkhas. But the Gurkhas and he came down with mumps! The postman brought mail informing them that Mummery nd his party were coming out«and asking for help with transport. Bruce got to Bandapur and made the arrangements required; but as he was returning he met Mummery, Collie and Hastings with their tonga, and was persuaded to join them with two Gurkhas. It is worth noting that Mummery had no sponsors commercial or institutional. These were early days, and Bruce stresses that it was difficult to describe the Himalayan scale 'to those who only look through Alpine spectacles.'

The first solo ascent of Kangchenjunga was in 1984, HJ Vol. 42 1984-1985, 'Kangchenjunga Solo' by Roger Marshall. The first winter ascent was in 1985 by a Polish team, HJ Vol. 43 1985-1986, 'Kangchenjunga Climbed in Winter' by Andrzej Machnik.

Bruce took a tonga but ran alongside it to get into training. He reached Mummery's camp in the Rupal valley beyond Tashing, but the camp was empty. Mummery had gone over the Mazeno pass, 18,000 ft. to the Diamir valley. When they got back, they all went over the Mazeno again — after doing all they could to find some pleasanter alternative.

Bruce's leave was over so he left. Mummery climbed the Diamirai peak, where Raghobir and Lor Khan 'saw Mummery at his very best, and had a further insight into how ice and snow should be handled. It was on this peak that they had one of the most unpleasant experiences that mountaineers can be called on to meet — a serious slip on an ice-slope. Lor Khan, wearing his native taoties, nothing more than strips of raw hide wound round his feet, suddenly slipped out of his steps when crossing a steep ice-slope. Luckily the rope between him and his neighbour, Collie, was taut, while Raghobir and Mummery had not turned upwards, so that the strain did not come entirely on the horizontal party. Fortunately also, Lor Khan kept his head <ind so employed his fingers and iceaxe that he produced a minimum of danger — but it was a near thing.' Lor Khan, we are told, was <i Chilasi, 'a splendid specimen of a ydung man of the Indus valley.'

Frankly, I find it difficult to understand from this description what actually happened. I presume Collie, Lor Khan in his taoties (no Bavarian boots!), Raghobir and Mummery were all on one rope. If they were traversing, with Mummery in the lead, the strain must surely have come on the horizontal party?

Mummery and Raghobir started on their attempt on Nanga Parbat mi 19 August. 'Mummery and Raghobir had a tremendous experience, but probably owing to his ignorance of Raghobir's language, and not rt'flll/lng the irresponsible outlook of the Gurkhas — Raghobir, though a very gifted mountaineer, was mentally on a plane with the average (iurkha — Mummery did not discover until they had been out two days that Raghobir had either brought no food with him, or had (liil'.lu'cl it at the first bivouac The result was, that on the third morning, after having spent two nights out on the mountain, reached a height of 21,000 ft and having almost arrived at the great ice-field, Raghobir collapsed. Mummery naturally was desperately disappointed; but it is a remarkable fact that these two, neither understanding a word the other , spoke, had carried out together one of the most strenuous feats of mountaineering ever accomplished.'

Indeed, the exploit seems to abound in 'remarkable facts'. This was the second occasion on which Raghobir ran out of food. Had he understood that they would be away for several days? Had anyone explained this to him in language he could understand? However irresponsible his outlook and whatever his mental plane, presumably he would know that food was a necessity? And if he ate up his whole supply in one gulp, it surely meant that he had with him only enough for one gulp. After the first experience, did Mummery make no effort to check the food supplies? Indeed, all very remarkable.

Abandoning the idea of attaining the summit by the Diamir face, the expedition crossed to Rakhiot (the face from which the mountain was ultimately climbed). Mummery wanted 'to avoid the long and laborious march of some two or three days, skirting the sides of the mountain,' so decided to take the Diamir glacier route, cross a col and drop down directly to the Buldar valley. Collie was left to skirt the mountain with the bulk of the loads. Lest Mummery ' 'should find his route impossible, he took men with him to leave rucksacks containing food, at suitable places on the way up, so that in case of retreat they could pick up the food and follow Collie's tracks.'

Mummery and his two Gurkhas, Raghobir (who hadn't taken enough food on Nanga Parbat), and Guman Singh, were not seen again and their disappearance has become a Himalayan legend.

Collie waited for them, saw that the descent from the col would have been impossible, and concluded that Mummery had gone back. But on checking, he found that the rucksacks of food were untouched.

'Such was the passing of Mummery,' writes Bruce. '.....Perhaps

I may quote the last sentence of Collie's account: "The pitiless mountains have claimed him and among the snowladen glaciers of the mighty hills he rests; the curves of the wind-moulded cornice, the delicate undulations of the fissured snow cover him, while the grim precipices and the great brown rocks, bending down, into an immeasurable space, and the snow peaks he loved so well keep and guard and watch over the spot where he lies."

Not only has the Mummery legend on Nanga Parbat remained fresh for the last almost 100 years, but his name is inscribed in the granite of the Aiguilles de Chamonix. He made the first ascent of the Grepon, among others, and his name is immortalised in the Mummery Crack.

It is difficult not to be struck by the casual way in which Mummery and Co. approached a Himalayan giant — in an age when none of the giants had been climbed. It has often been pointed out that they failed to appreciate the Himalayan scale, so very different from the Alps. Nanga Parbat was finally climbed — after attempts, many of them quite deadly, in 1932, 1934, 1937, 1938, 1939, 1950 in 1953, a few days after Everest, by that remarkable, bizarre, controversial, solo effort of that remarkable, bizarre, controversial climber Hermann Buhl.

Buhl wrote his appreciation of those who- had pioneered the way. First, Mummery, that great English climber, one of the outstanding climbers of his day. He failed to recognise the overwhelming size of the mountain and attacked it by a face from which an experienced, I Iimalayan-wise party turned away appalled forty-four years later. It was in 1895 that Mummery laid the foundation-stone of the pyramid which grew to be the history of Nanga Parbat. He is the first of the men to whom I feel moved to report and render my reckoning; I want him to know that I climbed Nanga Parbat without the assistance of any modern climbing aids, that is to say, in the way he would have wanted it, under my own steam, by what he himself considered "fair means".⁶

 

Mummery had described the Diamir valley as 'uninhabited, but beautiful In the extreme, glorious trees (mostly birch and pine); thickets of wild roses; heaps of flowers and undergrowth.' When Chris Bonington went there in 1990, with Charles Houston and Sigi Hupfauer, he wrote, 'the forest is steadily being whittled away to feed cooking fires mid build new houses, while ever-increasing herds of goats and sheep me devouring undergrowth, young saplings and the bark of mature trues.' Eleven expeditions had used the valley as base camp in 1990, mid 'the debris of our packaged society became evident. An old base tmt, which we learnt had been rented out by the village headman, »tood in one corner of the field, filled with shattered glass ampoules of coagulated blood, and other detritus of high-altitude research and (hen, as we ranged the field, we discovered that it was one huge refuse heap of plastic wrappings, containers and empty tins. It was difficult to believe that climbers could show such scant regard for (lie mountains they purport to love.'

The Karakoram

We had met the Vissers in Vol. II; in Vol. III, Jenny Visser-Hooft tlistxtlbes The Netherlands-Karakoram Expedition, 1929,' their third. They had with them again, Franz Lochmatter, 'one of Switzerland's best-known guides' and two new members, an ornithologist and a geologist, though we learn little of their activities. The Survey of India had again allowed Khan Sahib Mian Afraz Gul Khan to go with them.

They made Panamik their base, hoping to explore the side valleys and glaciers of the lower Nubra and upper Siachen. They picked up 34 permanent porters at Leh with the help of Dr Peter of the Moravian Mission. Several of the porters had experience of mountain travel with Major Kenneth Mason and Dr Emil Trinkler (whom we have also met in previous volumes). They also had two stalwart Indian boys, Paulus Anthony and Francis Xavier Khan, both of them boy scouts and pupils of the Roman Catholic Mission at Baramula.

Since Harish Kapadia taught us in H.J. Vol. 48 that 'sia' means 'rose' in Balti, one cannot read of the Siachen without thinking of its roses — rapidly being depleted, I understand.⁷ Mrs Visser-Hooft 'found the Nubra a valley of roses', and it was roses, roses all the way. Up the Siachen, they split into two groups, one going up the left bank, the other the right. They hoped to meet at the head of the valley, but couldn't manage it; they discovered that one party had all the bedding but no tents, and the cook but no food. They seemed to be about as well organised as Mummery's Gurkha.

 

After explorations and climbing of a 21,000 ft peak, when returning to Panamik, they had to cross the river again. 'The passage of the river took place on the morning of our departure from Aranu, a delightful rose-embowered village, with ruined chortens and masses of frail blue aquilegias nodding between the hedges... It was eleven o'clock when the two wild-eyed individuals who, in their function of water-experts, were to look after our safety, announced that the auspicious moment had arrived. With voices uplifted, they urged our ponies into the swiftly gliding river. Men and beasts followed, struggling frantically against the current, echoing the encouraging cries of the leaders.'

Across the Saser, they continued to climb and explore while Khan Sahib filled in blank spaces on the map. They were happily, safe at Daulat-Beg-Oldi when the Shyok dam burst, about 20 miles away. They had a visit from F. Ludlow, who had just been investigating the Shyok dam with Gunn.

Up the Chip-Chap valley, over the Kara-tagh pass, to meet the route to the Kawak pass. 'The most interesting immediate result of the exploration of this tract of country was without doubt the discovery of glaciers, of which more than twelve were noted, in an area where they were unexpected.' And so to Yarkand.

Mason adds a note, based on information supplied to him personally by the Vissers, on the further travels of the expedition in 1930. It finally returned to Leh in July.

The Duke of Spoleto and the ubiquitous Prof Ardito Desio had given lectures about the 'Italian Expedition to the Karakoram, 1929'; Mason puts together an account of that part of the expedition which entered the Shaksgam, the region which Mason himself had surveyed in 1926.

After three attempts, the Italians found a way over the Muztagh pass suitable for porters; Balestreri and five other Europeans, together with 47 porters crossed the pass and descended — some of the Italians on skis — the Sarpo Laggo glacier. Francis Younghusband had ascended this from the north in 1887. Balestreri, Desio and two others, with 33 porters and a chota shikari (Was he small man? Did he hunt only small game? Did he only drink chota pegs? And how much bigger would a hurra shikari be ?) went On to the Shaksgam valley.

Balestreri and Desio got to the Kyagar glacier which had been discovered by Mason, and Balestreri wrote to our Editor, 'The day had been splendidly fine, with a wonderfully blue sky. All around us the scenery was glorious. We could easily identify your "Island Ridge" and the "Red Wall" and the next day, from a small dome ntwve our camp, we could see the cairn built on the right moraine of the Kyagar by your expedition. I cannot explain to you what I Mt at that moment. Certainly it was one of the best moments of my life.'⁸

 

The Siachen

Mason also gives a note on Prof Dainelli's Karakoram Expedition, 1930. Dainelli, who had accompanied Sir Filippo De Filippi in 1913-14, carried out a most interesting journey in 1930, connecting up 'the work of the Workmans' on the Siachen and the previous surveys of De Filippi on the Rimo glacier.'

Dainelli ascended the Nubra from Panamik and traversed the whole length of the Siachen (one of the longest glaciers in the world: 70 km) (from its snout to the junction with the Teram Shehr glacier. He spent about two months on the glacier, and crossed over to the Rimo.

Lieut. Col. O.L. Ruck went hunting near the Siachen glacier in 1909, believing that 'no better ground for ibex can be reached on a two-months' shoot.' Mason probably had to use all his talents of persuasion to borrow the Colonel's diary and publish extracts.

Getting-to Panamik — the Khardung la was still closed in mid May — Ruck's Welsh terrier's 'feet got blistered and we had to carry him in a basket.' He went to the head of the Nubra valley and camped under the snout of Siachen. During his stay, he saw several herds of ibex and of burrhel, one of 200 head. He shot several: 47 ¼"; 45 ½"; and a burrhel of 24", and, one cannot help reading with pleasure that he also 'missed an ibex about 44"'. (The sahib shot well, but Allah was kind to the ibex,' as one old cartoon caption had it.) He pointed out that the 'left bank of the Nubra is better for sport than the right.' Henry Osmaston, wrote some 75 years later in H.J. Vol. 42, 1984-1985, The Siachen and Terong Glaciers: East Karakoram,' 'When the Workmans explored the Siachen they saw many ibex and a huge pile of old horns. We saw a few of their tracks and what may have been snow leopard tracks, but no animals.'

It is difficult to read anything about the Karakorams without being haunted by the Workmans. Was this a name or a description and shouldn't it be Workmen rather than Workmans? 'For much of this century that formidable American couple, Dr William Hunter Workman and Mrs Fanny Bullock Workman, have exercised a certain fascination on the mountaineering world': thus wrote Michael Flint, in his article 'The Workmans: Travellers Extraordinaire' in H.J. 49, 1991-1992. An engrossing article about an intriguing couple, that reveals all. One was inclined to think that only Britain produced eccentrics; not so, America produced its own, but a breed rather different from the British model as exemplified by Hayward, referred to later.

Mason notes that Ruck had made a sketch of the snout of the glacier. Comparing this to the survey of Khan Sahib Afraz Gul in 1929, Mason concludes that the snout had retreated about 3/4 of a mile⁹.

What is ineffably sad is that the Siachen should now be the stage for a stand-off between the armies of India and Pakistan. Some 5500 Pakistani soldiers face 9000 Indians; both sides have artillery, though the rarefied atmosphere makes nonsense of ballistic data; millions of rupees are spent daily to maintain these forces where casualties due to the altitude and cold are nine times higher than those due to combat.¹⁰ And when we complain about the garbage dumps at base camps, can we begin to imagine what the dumps must be like in these high-altitude army camps?

To the layman, all this seems like utmost folly — but then, when did warfare hot seem like utmost folly?

Men must harbour dreams sometimes, even foolish, foolish dreams, 'I have a dream,' said Martin Luther King in the greatest of his speeches, 30 years ago. So let us also dream that the mountaineers of the world persuaded India and Pakistan to withdraw their armies and to establish an 'International Park of the Rose'. This was placed under the guardianship of the United Nations and the International Union of Alpine Associations. And the ibex, which had been totally I'liminated, was re-introduced and it flourished.¹¹ '77s still a dream; or else such stuff as madmen Tongue and brain out.

Transnational parks or 'Transboundary Protected Areas' to use the language of specialists, are not just an airy-fairy dream. The first was probably the Waterton Glacier International Peace Park established l>y the US and Canada in 1932. In the same year, Czechoslovakia — which now has a third of its 800 km frontier covered by protected .ireas — established a nature reserve on the Dunajec river to match the Polish one on the other side. Indonesia and Malaysia have transboundary reserves in Kalimantan; there is an international area for peace along the San Juan river between Nicaragua and Costa Rica; a peace park on both sides of the Evros river boundary between Greece and Turkey.

Recently, the Belovezhskaya in Belarus was added to the Bialowieza In Poland, to form an extensive World Heritage Site. The demilitarized /one between North and South Korea has become a wild-life refuge; a park adjoining Pakistan and China has been under consideration. Efforts have been under way for some years by France, Italy and Switzerland to establish an International Mont Blanc Park. All in all, there are some 70 border parks in 65 countries; some of them 'have served as "peace parks" and have decreased political tensions and nationak conflicts.'¹²

 

Ramesh Bedi, in his book Indian Wildlife. William Collins & Co. Ltd,1984, writes, 'The Ladakhis believe that in one of his previous births Lord Buddha w,is born an ibex, and the animal is therefore sanctified. Found in the western I llrnalayas in Kashmir, Ladakh and Baltistan, the ibex is hunted for its hide, Icnilor meat, soft woolly under-fur (pasham) and as a trophy. The finest Kashmiri shawls are made from ibex wool.'

Central Asia

H.T. Morshead reviews a pamphlet published in Paris, 1929, 'presenting a detailed and critical resume of Dr Sven Hedin's magnum opus which was published in Stockholm during the years 1917-1922.' And a resume was certainly needed because Hedin's opus totalled 3771 pages, 599 plates, two portfolios of maps and a folio album of 657 plates and panoramas. (And no paperback edition to follow!)

Kenneth Mason reviews Geomorphologische Studien Zwischem Oberem lndustal Und Sudlichem Tarimbecken by Hellmut de Terra. Dr. de Terra accompanied Dr Emil Trinkler, whom we have met in the two previous volumes, on his last Central Asian expedition and 'has now attempted a morphological analysis of the mountain-belt which lies between the upper Indus valley and the Tarim basins.'

Vol. II had carried a summary of the joint Russo-German expedition to the Pamirs, May-October 1928. Vol. III gives a review of Alai! Alai!'by W.R. Rickmers, a popular account in German of this expedition. Rickmers had made eight journeys in Turkestan between 1894 and 1913, and was the organizer of the 1928 expedition. It would seem that in those days, a good editor of the H.J. needed to know German.

Mountains and Men of the Frontier

F. Williamson made 'A Journey from Yarkand to the Karatash' in summer, 1928. Though an official tour — some people seem to be particularly lucky in their official duties — it is full of happy valleys, beautiful grassy plains, and other delights. The tinkling music of the names is enough to evoke the pleasures of the high hills: Kiziltagh, Kaying-bashi, Kichik Karaul, the Kin-kol valley.

In the valley of the Ordalung Jilgafor, he was 'met by a man with a prong gun, who was shooting chikor and was apparently looking for us. He told me that Sherriff (the Vice-Consul at Kaying-bashi) had left Kashgar, and that he had left a note for me at Kaying-bashi... I stayed at Kaying-bashi an hour and a half before the man to whom Sherriff had given his letter appeared. From this I learnt that the Governor of the province had been murdered at Urumchv and that Sherriff was hurrying back to Kashgar, intending to do the five marches in a day and half. It was impossible to say what political complications would result from the murder, or indeed what complications had caused it. So I immediately turned back and followed the road by which I had come.'

Of greater political interest is 'A Frontier Tour' being extracts from a diary written by Lieut. Col. J.R.C. Gannon during a journey made with H.E. Lord Rawlinson, C.-in-C. in India, through Dir, Chitral and the Gilgit Agency in 1923. At Malakand, 'We had an interesting interview with the Miangul of Swat, who came, in spite of his local war with the Nawab of Amb, to pay his respects to the Chief... The opening phases of this war had not been altogether to his advantage, but he had found time to smite the Shaiosai. The Chief's efforts to persuade the Miangul to make peace, which might have been arranged, were fruitless; yet the Miangul was in an awkward predicament, for the Nawab of Dir apparently was only waiting for the end of the Chief's visit to his territory, before joining the Nawab of Amb. This would put the Miangul in the position of being attacked from two sides at once.'¹³ Vintage Kipling and great game stuff, this; or as Gannon puts it elsewhere, 'Life still consists in the possession of land, women and cattle, and the almost daily battle, murder and sudden death Involved in keeping them.'

 

Who, or why, or which, or what
Is the Ahkond of Swat?
Is he tall or short, or dark or fair?
Does he sit on a stool or sofa or chair, or squat
The Ahkond of Swat?
Do his people like him extremely well?
Or do they, whenever they "can, rebel, or Plot,
At the Ahkond of Swat?
Does he study the wants of his own dominion?
Or doesn't he care for public opinion a Jot,
The Ahkond of Swat?
Is he quiet, or always making a fuss?
Is his steward a Swiss or a Swede or a Russ, or a Scot,
The Ahkond of Swat?
Does he teach his subjects to roast and bake?
Does he sail about on an inland lake, in a Yacht,
The Ahkond of Swat?
Some one, or nobody knows I wot
Who or which or why or what
Is the Ahkond of Swat!

On the way to Chakdara Fort, they were met by a fine lot of maliks, 'the senior being about eighty and quite blind. By his appearance he might have come straight out of the Bible and it is doubtful that his forbears of 2000 years ago in this valley were dressed or behaved differently... The history of their times differs but little from the Old Testament tales of the Hittites, Jebusites and Amalekites.'

In Dir country, they watched logs being floated down the Panjkora river. 'After some miles we rounded a bend where a great gang of men worked like beavers pushing logs into the river. The nearer we came the more they shouted and the more feverishly they pushed. Their shouts became yells when we stopped to watch. Suddenly about twenty of them seized single mussacks and sprang into the river. Lying on the mussacks each man kept his head well out of the water and balanced by paddling with his feet. It was a fine sight seeing them all shoot down a rapid, bobbing up and down like corks and cheering like blazes. It transpired that this was a put-up show for the Chief, while the earlier frantic work was displayed for the benefit of the contractor from Nowshera who had, in some mysterious way, tacked himself on to our party.'

The Chirralis, as opposed to the surly, morose men of Dir, seemed a happy and cheerful lot. 'The Mehtar's boys are jolly lads and delighted at meeting the Chief; everyone bustles round cheerfully.'

Some fine old Kafirs rolled up to see the Chief, on the border of Kafiristan. 'One old grey-beard is pointed out as having killed 130 Pathans in his time; he is now a benevolent old gentleman.' At Ayun, 'breakfast awaited us in a garden under the shade of some chinar trees. From here we got a view of Tirich Mir, a snow covered peak of the Hindu Rush rising 25,700 ft above the sea. It is only 30 miles from Chitral. Not a doud was on it this morning and it was very lovely. It has never been climbed; indeed, no Chitralis would go near it, as according to them it is infested with fairies.' Thanks to Lieut D.M. Burn's article in H.J. Vol. II, we know all about the fairies on Tirich Mir.

The Mehtar had appendicitis so the Chief wired to Northern command for a doctor. They played polo, Chitrali style, and enjoyed an evening of Chitrali and Kafir dancing. Gannon wishes he 'could remember Kipling's Man Who Would be King. I know the scene was in Kafiristan.' After a Chitrali dance, a man lies 'down on the ground and does a Punch and Judy show with puppets, representing a boy and a girl. It is an old story, the boy making love to the girl and getting rebuffed, and the girl making up to him again. It is cleverly done and ends, needless to say, in a manner that would be considered somewhat indelicate in a Western country, but which is received with roars of natural merriment in this distant corner of the East.' ('Ship me somcwheres east of Suez where the best is like the worst, Where there aren't no Ten Commandments, an' a man can raise a thirst.' Kipling, of course.)

In 'The Thui and Shandur Passes', Lieut. G.C. Clark gives an account of a tour with Capt. Trevelyan, the Military Assistant to the Political Agent in Gilgit, to Chitral and back, a tour of 20 days and 320 miles. It is amazing that Clark gives no initials to the Captain and even more amazing that our careful editor should not have identified him in any way. The name Trevelyan runs through the history of India like a thread through a necklace for 150 years from the beginning of the 19th century. Raleigh Trevelyan wrote The Golden Oriole*4 about his 'Indian' relations; judging from that, our Trevelyan must have been Walter Raleigh Featherstonhaugh Trevelyan, 1893-1953.

They left Gilgit on 17 August 1930 and went to Yasin. They were met by the Governor, Khan Bahadur Shah Abdul Rahman. The history of Yasin is steeped in intrigue, murder and sudden death. It was at Darkot, a small village at the head of the main valley of Yasin, that the explorer Hayward was treacherously murdered in 1870.'

George Hayward was one of those strange, eccentric explorers and players of the Great Game that Britain produced in astonishing numbers In the last century. John Keay, in When Men and Mountains Meet,¹⁵ (lives the story of this remarkable man. Seeking adventure and trade possibilities in the Karakorams and the plateaux beyond, he once disguised himself as a Pathan, but not very successfully as his Pushtu was poor. He got in the way of Robert Shaw, anxious to 'open up Central Asia' and find lucrative markets for tea. Hayward made stupendous marches — in 20 days he covered 300 miles on foot over the roughest terrain imaginable. 'In one continuous march of 36 hours he did 55 miles." He was awarded the Gold Medal of the Royal Geographical Society.

 

He uncovered 'the grisly remains of a massacre of genocide proportions, hy the Kashmir troops,' and publicised this. Was his end a consequence of this? John Keay describes it dramatically and imaginatively, in 8 lonely spot at the foot of the, Darkot glacier, George Hayward ale no dinner. Nor did he go to bed, but sat up through the long nlyht ^writing by candlelight. In his other hand he held a pistol. On hi-, collapsible table lay more loaded weapons.

'At dawn he drank a cup of tea. All was quiet. He sniffed the morning air, then turned in for an hour or two's sleep. But the danger was not passed. He awoke to hard hands clutching at his throat. Bound and bullied, he was led out on to the hillside. They took the ring from his finger, he muttered a prayer, a sword swept and his head fell from his body.'

Clark and Trevelyan invited the Governor and Pir Jalali Shah, his crony, to dinner. The Pir was never seen without 'a hawk on his wrist and a couple of dogs following at his heels.' In the middle of the plain of Dasht-i-Taus, there were the ruins of an old Chinese fort. When the Chinese had got there, they and the Yasinip 'determined that the final decision should be made, not by a pitched battle, but by a test of strength between champions selected from each of the two armies. On the appointed day, the Yasin army collected on the far side of the valley about eight hundred yards from the fort.

The ball was opened by the strong man from China, who, seizing a yak, flung it across the valley into the middle of the Yasin host. It might have been thought that such a feat would have easily won the day for China, but the champion of Yasin was undaunted and, tearing up a walnut tree by its roots, he hurled it back into the fort. To this the Chinese could return no answer and. confessing themselves beaten, they retired without further bloodshed.' What a very sensible way of settling disputes! One could think of several bloody disputes that could be more sensibly settled in this way, while the UN could act as umpire.

They crossed the 14,700 ft Thui pass into Chitrali territory, and like the C.-in-C. and Lieut. Col. Gannon in 1923, were hospitably entertained by the Shahzada Sahib, Muhammad Nasir-ul-Mulk; he also arranged a game of polo and an evening of dancing for them. As they left Mastuj, they had a marvellous view down the Yarkhun valley to Tirich Mir, 'whose snowy peak seemed suspended in the air, her lower slopes in the early morning haze having assumed a blue tint which merged into the sky.'

At the crest of the Shandur pass, there were two lakes; 'on its edge we saw a wolf paying no attention to a small herd of half-breed yak which were grazing on the grassy plain. There was also a flight of about twenty duck, which may have belonged to the pochard family but it was impossible to distinguish them dearly.'

Clark notes that 'it was most refreshing to find that the traditional hospitality of the mountain tribesmen is not yet a thing of the past and they are still only too pleased to welcome an officer touring their country.'

These accounts of tours in the»frontier regions should be completed by the obituary notice of Capt. Frank Ashcroft, 1900-1930, of the 6th Royal Battallion 13th Frontier Force Rifles (Scinde) who was killed with eight of his men in action against the Hathi Khel Wazirs on 24 August 1930, after inflicting considerably higher casualties on the enemy. He was a keen member of the Club, his last venture among our mountains being through Chitral to the Badakshan Border.

Skiing

M.D.N. Wyatt, a member of the HC from Calcutta, and his wife spent almost seven months in Kashmir and did lots of skiing in 'unexplored country from the skiers' point of view.' They spent Christmas 1929 and New Year in Gulmarg, where the snow up to 1000 ft above the tree level was almost always perfect powder; then a month on a house boat on Wular lake with excellent shooting and indifferent skiing — they shot geese, duck, teal, snipe and chukor off skis and we also could have shot a Kashmir stag in the same way.'

Then Gulmarg again, and climbed Shin Mahinyo, 15,113 ft on skis. Shooting trip to Ladakh, and hunted markhor and ibex instead of ovis ammon and burrhel as originally intended. Went back to Gulmarg and Khelanmarg. 'On Midsummer Day, we were caught in a sudden heavy snow storm near the top of Apharwat and being quite inadequately clothed we suffered severely from cold.'

Wyatt sums up, 'On the whole, snow conditions in Kashmir, which may be taken as typical of the Himalaya throughout the wet zone, are not very different from those in Europe;¹⁶ but ski-runners must realize that, with the exception perhaps of a very few of the best shikaris and some of the porters who have climbed on Everest and Kangchenjunga, there is really no native mountaineering skill obtainable in India.' The Editor adds a footnote to this, 'Mr. Wyatt's remarks apply of course to technical mountaineering and snow-craft. Villagers throughout the Himalaya are killed every year simply through their Entire lack of "avalanche-sense". Their fatalistic outlook is against taking the most ordinary precautions. In many parts of the Himalaya one may tell a coolie that if he traverses a certain slope or goes on <i certain cornice he will probably be killed, and he will promptly try the experiment!'

 

Bruce tells us that the Gurkhas had an irresponsible outlook, while Mason refers to the fatalistic outlook of the people of the Himalaya and their thick-headed failure to take precautions: this gives rise, once again, to thoughts on the failure of people to understand each other. Rather sad. 'The. peoples of the world are islands shouting at each other across a sea of misunderstanding,' said George Eliot.

Science and Natural History

Sir Edwin Pascoe, late Director of the Geological Survey of India, has contributed a 'Sketch of the Geology of India', while ¦ Dr Emil Trinkler writes a learned note on the 'Westernmost Plateaux of Tibet,' based on the 1927-28 expedition about which we had read in previous volumes.

Sir Edwin Pascoe also drew the reader's attention to a paper 'by our esteemed Hon. Editor, Major Kenneth Mason, recently published in the Records of the Geological Survey of India on the glaciers of the Karakoram and its neighbourhood. The indefatigable Kenneth Mason also attended the Congress of the Union of Geodesy and Geophysics in Stockholm in August 1930, and gave the Glacier Commission a summary of the conclusions of a study of the Karakoram glaciers.

F. Ludlow, still pursuing natural history, spent the winter of 1929-30 in Kashgar. In March, he crossed the Muz-art pass and followed the Tekkes river eastwards collecting butterflies, birds and plants. He spent the summer in the neighbourhood of the Kok-su-Yulduz divide, and eventually returned to Srinagar in November by way of the Pamirs and Gilgit.

On 25 August 1930, Ludlow wrote a letter to Mason 'from the Upper Kok-Su, Tekkes Valley, Tien Shan.' He wrote about the date of the bursting of the Shyok dam — which he had visited in Vol. I — but far more interesting to us, he said, 'I have just received Vol. II of the H.J. and read it from cover to cover. It is a delightful issue.' The postal system in those days must have been rather better than ours today — ah, but did they have fax?

Mason, who put together information about Ludlow's travels and work, tells us that he collected 850 bird skins, 550 eggs belonging to 50 different species, 1500-2000 butterflies and 250 different species of plants. Animals shot included a 55V2 inch Ovis Karelini, a 53-inch ibex and a 15-inch roe deer. Not a single wapiti was seen, only a few tracks of them; they were continually harried by Kalmuk hunters for their horns in velvet, which were sold to the Chinese for as much as Rs. 100-200 a pair.

B.O. Coventry, who was the Technical Correspondent for Botany of the HC, reviews F. Kingdon Ward's book Plant-Hunting on the Edge of the World, 'a fascinating account of his expeditions in search of plants at the north-east end of the Himalayas... the main object of his expeditions has been to obtain new species of hardy beautiful plants suitable for cultivation in England gardens,' The list of such plants contains some 60 new species of which 12 are primulas and 30 rhododendrons.

The book is full of thrilling incidents, glowing accounts of wonderful scenery and magnificent vegetation and interesting anecdotes about local tribes. One quotation must suffice: 'But I had scarcely reached the bank when I stopped suddenly in amazement. Was I dreaming? I rubbed my eyes and looked again. No! Just above the edge of the snow a vivid blush-pink flower stood out of the cold earth... Yet so fascinating was it to stand there and gaze at this marvel in an aching pain of wonder that I felt no desire to step forward and break the spell. Indeed, for a minute I was paralysed with an emotion which perhaps only those who have come across some beloved Alpine prize in Switzerland can faintly appreciate... In the face of such unsurpassed loveliness one is afraid to move, as with bated breath one mutters the single word "God!" — and a prayer rather than an exclamation! And when at last with fluttering heart one does venture forward, it Is on tiptoe, and hat in hand, to wonder and to worship.'

The 3rd volume of Conventry's own book on Wild Flowers of Kashmir is reviewed by Kenneth Mason himself. Once more Coventry has selected 50 species of Kashmir flowers, illustrated each with coloured photos and described them. 'We do not ever remember seeing a more perfect reproduction of natural colour photography than the frontispiece to this volume,' says Mason, 'where Cremanthodium decaisnei and Corydalis thyrsiflora give a lovely foreground to a glacial cirque near Sonasar in the Liddar valley.'

Amongst the obituaries is that of Gilbert E.R. Cooper, 1885-1930, A prominent member of the Bombay Natural History society, his private collection of butterflies being one of the finest in the East.' 1 Ic had promised to contribute a paper to the H.J. on Oriental Butterflies but died of jaundice in Rangoon before he could write it.

The Royal Geographical Society celebrated its centenary in London in 1930, and the HC was represented by Sir Geoffrey Corbett (whose 'chance conversation on the path behind Jakko Hill' had launched tin- HC). Three members of the HC were honoured by the RGS In 1930: Kingdon Ward received the Founder's Gold Medal; Lieut. Col. Reginald C.F. Schomberg the Gill Memorial; and Col. H. Wood tin¹ Murchison Grant.

The RGS remains one of those unique British institutions that played a role during Britain's imperial age and still continues in its understated way to exercise a powerful influence (26 employees, an annual budget of $1 million; extremely modest by today's standards). It was founded for the 'promotion and diffusion of that most important and entertaining branch of knowledge — geography.' It explored new areas, the flag followed the exploration, and trade followed the flag (George Hayward and Robert Shaw mentioned earlier provide examples); and then, in the terms of Philips Woodruff, came the Founders and the Guardians.

Joseph Conrad, who made a memorable trip to the 'Heart of Darkness' in the Dark Continent, referred to the 'conquest of the earth, which mostly means the taking it away from those who have a different complexion or slightly flatter noses than ourselves.' In his essay, 'Geography and Some Explorers,' Conrad wrote, 'the discovery of Africa was the occasion of the greatest outburst of reckless cruelty and greed known to history.'¹⁷ The RGS promoted exploration in the same spirit that it sponsored Everest expeditions; the greed that followed its footsteps happened to be that of the European; it might just as well have been that of any other race or people; for greed is quite free from any taint of racial discrimination, knowing no boundaries of race, religion, caste, creed, colour, sect, or language.

We have read about Kingdon Ward's expeditions and those of Col. Schomberg in previous volumes. Col. Wood had been sent in 1903 by Curzon to ascertain whether Everest and Gaurishankar were the same; he established their separate identities. In 1914 he was in charge of the Survey of India party attached to Sir Filippo De Filippi's expedition to the Karakoram.

In the section on Notes, presumably compiled by Mason, we learn that Gaurishankar was first put forward as the 'native' name for Everest by Hermann Schlagintweit in 1852. Wood found that they were 36 miles apart. 'If Mount Everest has a name in any language spoken in the countries bordering it, that name certainly is not Gaurishankar and only confusion is caused by giving it this name on maps.' A footnote points out that the Tibetan name mentioned has been Chomo Longma, said to be a corruption of Chomo Lobzangma, 'the Liberal-minded Goddess.'

Miscellaneous

The membership of the Himalayan Club had now reached 339. The President, Sir William Birdwood had retired to England, and H.E. Sir Malcolm Hailey, Governor of the UP, was elected to replace him.

 

Sir Aurel Stein was reported to, be on his fourth great journey in Central Asia, and the untiring Khan Sahib Mian Afraz Gul Khan was with him. Col Schomberg was also in those parts while Kingdon Ward was somewhere on the frontiers of Burma.

There were proposals for building two huts, one in Sikkim and one at the head of the Liddar Valley in Kashmir. The admission of ladies to the Club had been under discussion for some time. (Curious why they hadn't been automatically admitted at the start, considering that wives often accompanied their husbands on their excursions: witness the indomitable Mrs Lethbridge of Vol. I, and Mrs Wyatt, the skier of Vol. HI.) Members were consulted by mail and at the AGM held on 14 March 1931, it was finally decided that ladies should be eligible for full membership. Almost half a century before the Swiss Alpine Club got round to a similar decision, after contorted years of discussion.

----------------------SUMMARY---------------------

A browse through the Himalayan Journal, Vol. III, and its relevance to the present day.

 

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