THE RISHI GANGA AND THE OUTER SANCTUARY

JOHN A. JACKSON

The two mountains Nanda Devi East and West are both over 7000 metres in height. They are guarded by a host of other high peaks which form a great cirque or wall around them. The main approach route is through a wild river cut gorge named the Rishi Ganga, which leads first of all to the Trisulgal or 'outer sanctuary' and then finally penetrates the wall to attain the 'inner sanctuary' first reached by Shipton and Tilman in 1934.

When eventually I did return to the Garhwal Himalaya, it was as leader of an expedition which among other things found a second way of penetrating the wall from the Trisulgal to the 'inner sanctuary'. Rather cheekily and because we were a Welsh based group we named the route 'Bwlch y Geifr' — the 'Pass of the Goats'.

The Gorphwysfa Club

"Where the wind from Cym Idwal, Cwm Llydaw, Cwm Glas

Comes welcoming over the scree:-

Come home mountain friends to your rest on the pass,

Come back mountain climber to me.''

The Gorphwysfa Song

Gorphwysfa means a resting place and Gorphwysfa Peris is the resting place at the head of the rugged glaciated valley of Llanberis in Snowdonia. There at the Gorphwysfa Inn during the early part of the century, Wynthrop Young, Mallory and many other mountain men used to meet to share hill days and to pioneer rock climbs on the crags of North Wales. The 'Inn' has now become a Youth Hostel and is also the 'home' of the present day Gorphwysfa Climbing Club.

During an evening when Eileen and I were guests at the annual dinner of the club, several members expressed a quaint desire to ascend Trisul using similar equipment to that used by Dr. Tom Longstaff on his ascent of that mountain in 1907! This laudable ambition was not fulfilled, because the Japanese had already been given permission to climb the mountain. In addition whilst the expedition was being organised, everyone's ideas changed rapidly towards using modern gear such as plastic boots, Jumar clamps, ice-screws, C.B. radios, and a thousand feet of fixed rope! Eileen and I were impressed by this remarkable evidence of flexibility and having been invited to join the Gorphwysfa team felt assured that we were going to the mountains with the right kind of people. A little later I was asked to be the leader of the venture.

Most of the members came from the Oxford area (Jim Murray, a Professor of Zoology came from Charlottesville, Virginia) and were either doctors, solicitors, professors, or senior lecturers of one kind or another. They proved to be a fine bunch of boffins to be with, good companions, splendid mountain people and their youthful enthusiasm (most were aged between 40 and 50 — though two were but 24 years old) was very refreshing. During preparations, we met several times in Snowdonia and trained with my staff at the National Centre for Wales, Plas Menai.

We eventually flew from Heathrow early in September. During the flight to Delhi, I reflected on it being thirty years since my last visit to Garhwal, remembering that whilst climbing and exploring north and west of Badrinath, I had been swept down by an avalanche. Though it wasn't realised at the time, I fractured my left femur. It knitted together and self healed so that the fracture was only discovered 17 years later. Eventually this resulted in me having a painful arthritic hip and a shorter left leg. Surgeons gave me a new hip. It was akin to being reborn.

'Yes' I thought 'now I have a new and artificial hip, the mountains might take me back in more kindly fashion'. They did.

The Moment of Truth

We began the trek into the mountains from the small village of Suriatota and six days later set up the Base Camp at 4700 m in the Trisul gal. All the way I was aware of following the footsteps of many famous mountaineer explorers other than Shipton and Tilman. W.W. Graham who had first had a look into the Rishiganga in 1883, then later the well known Everesters, Bruce, Somervell and Ruttledge, but it was the doyen of them all, Dr. Tom Longstaff, that I thought of the most. His description of the area and of his penetration up the Rishiganga related in the book. This My Voyage is excellent, but it was my memory of pouring over the map of the area with him at his cottage near Achilibuie that was freshest in my mind. With Eileen and our two sons I had camped several times on a green stretch of 'machair' below his cottage and we always paid him a visit. Knowing him I am sure he would have appreciated a woman's thoughts of the journey to the Trisul gal and because Eileen wrote a short piece called the 'Moment of Truth' for a W.I. magazine, here they are:

'Well here's the moment of truth' I thought. 'From here on you are on your own two feet.' The two and a half days hair-raising drive from Delhi to Rishikesh and on to Joshimath was behind us. Following a restless night at Suriatota, my day sack was packed and the trail up to Tolma, our next campsite was before me. As Stella Barczak (one of our two doctors) and I set off together, there was still a lot of activity around the schoolhouse in the village and John Rowlinson (J.R.) our Professor of Chemistry who John had asked to be his deputy leader, was weighing the last of the porter loads. The track led up by fields of millet and buckwheat, through sunny glades of Deodar and Chir trees with wild orchids and false strawberries underfoot. Then we reached our stopping place for lunch and surprise, this turned out to be Tolma and the end of our walking for the day.

Tents were being pitched whilst Habib Cheta, our Kashmiri cook and Sharma his assistant were preparing a meal. In the evening we were invited to a 'harvest festival' at one of the houses in Tolma. At the religious ceremony or 'puja' the family altar had been decorated with fruit and evergreens and with the many candles burning all around, it was similar to a Christmas crib back home in Britain. We found out that during the festival week, their holy book had to be read from beginning to end and this was the evening of the final reading. It was very much a family ceremony and everyone was there including the little children. At the end of each chapter reading, there was ringing of a bell and a blowing of a conch shell. A twist of blue-grey smoke curled out of a waved pot and a nose tickling smell of incense pervaded the room. One small boy was being allowed to blow the conch shell for his first time but unfortunately when his big moment came, he was so excited, he couldn't raise the 'puff' and no sound came out. His big sister hastily snatched it away, blew a great blast and family honour was saved.

Goats and goat men were sleeping across the track as in the dark we walked back to camp, a short yet potentially ankle breaking journey but a memorable end to a very satisfying first day.

The following day's walk proved to be steep and tiring and was made the longer when with Brian Smith, I went down the far side of a ridge instead of along it. Eventually we reached the campsite — a place ever since referred to as 'dry camp' — because the only nearby source of water had dried up. John went to much trouble unsuccessfully to find a spring of water and then, having sent porters to search in all directions, a sufficient amount was brought back for everybody. All had a cup of tea that evening, plus another one in the morning and a half flask of water for the journey over the Dharansi pass the next day. The night was cold and early on we were all glad to be on our way and over the pass at 4250 m. For me, it was the hardest day, with the added hindrance of feeling slightly sick, but Paul Barczak (our other doctor) and Mike Leask chivvied me along. Once over the pass there was a welcome stop for drinks at a stream, then it was downhill all the way to Dibrugheta. On the walk. John had been pleased to find and photograph a variety of flora so late in the year — Immortelle, Gentian, Mountain Aster and a decaying but recognisable Sausseria. Our sixty or so goats and sheep, each carrying a pack of twenty pounds, were strung out along the path and with the high mountains as a backcloth, they made a fine sight.

When resting below the Dharansi, Jim Murray pointed out a Lammergeir that soared high above the pass and nearby, several furry Mousehares, or Tiakpa as John calls them, were scurrying in and out among the rocks. Just before reaching camp, we had an exciting few moments crossing the rushing fiver on a single slanting pine log, then there was a welcome brew of tea made for us by a small party of Calcutta mountaineers who were on their way out of the mountains, having been climbing in the sanctuary area.

The narrow path winding along the steep flanks of the mountains high above the Rishi ganga gorge made our journey to Deodi the next day the most spectacular of the whole walk to base. Nanda Devi, a streamer of cloud blowing from its summit gave us a breath taking first viewing and the dark cut of the Rishi gorge provided a mysterious lead into the 'Sanctuary of the Goddess'. Before reaching the Deodi campsite, we had to cross a rather ricketty and dangerous looking bridge over the Rishi and Mike Leask who was taking cine, decided it was photographically ideal. Though we had crossed the bridge, he made us go back so that he could film us once more but the first attempt wasn't good enough, and we had to go back over it again and again, in my opinion shortening the odds against us alarmingly!

The campsite at Deodi was a clearing among the trees, a good situation, and at 4 p.m. tea break, John got all the expedition together to brief us about our various responsibilities when we reached base camp and once we were climbing and camping at high altitudes. The day ended with us and our porters all crowding round a huge campfire where we sang and danced well into the evening.

To reach Bethartoli camp (Longstaff's Juniper Camp of 1907) we took the path up the Rishi ganga towards Ramani, then turned off towards the Trisul gal. I was feeling fitter now and the whole party except for Mike who had a bad cold, seemed in good form. At the campsite, it was evident that most of the Juniper that had once grown in profusion had been cut down for firewood by goat herders and previous expeditions.

A few Musk deer scampered away out of sight when we arrived and towards evening we had a few warning flakes of snow. On our last day's walk, Mike and I toiled up and over the gigantic side moraine and as the Devistan peaks loomed nearer and nearer, we knew that base camp could not be far away. Even so, it was quite a surprise when the flagged cairn marking base camp came into view. Within minutes the goats and sheep arrived, followed closely by the porters and quickly the tents were erected. Habib and Sharma arranged their kitchen, got a fire going and before long we were all sitting on the moraine and tucking into a good meal.

Early in the expedition our main meal of the day was chicken. These chickens were carried in crates, and they didn't look very happy. Eventually the poor things disappeared one by one, so we started on mutton, and during the next few weeks we ate our way through three sheep, though actually happened to the meat on them, I was never quite sure. Mostly, our helpings seemed to be short lengths of bone and gristle with a small collar of meat round the middle. But then, after a tough walk in for six days, perhaps there wasn't much meat on the poor beasts to start with. Before the end of the expedition, we ran out of fresh meat but we did manage to have an egg for breakfast right up to the last day. Dal (boiled lentils), rice and chappattis became our staple diet, reinforced with a tin of meat now and again. To some, the meals became rather monotonous but because I hadn't much appetite at altitude, I must admit I wasn't the best judge.

Before leaving Britain, I had been asked to put together about 10 lbs of food suitable for the higher camps. This I did by buying tubes of cheese, packets of nuts and raisins, packet meals, Cup-a Soups, orange crystals, Kendal Mint Cake and so on. These items were a great success and in future I would take a lot more and certainly use them on treks. It would be money well spent.

I shall always cherish many happy memories of base camp throughout the expedition, and most certainly the splendid companionship we had, plus the many gatherings in the big yellow tent which we christened the 'Club house'. When the weather was bad we had many games of cards there, and long conversations with Ajay Thanka, our liaison officer, about life and times in India. Later we had cheese and coffee 'parties'; made possible by presents from a departing Italian expedition — what a treat to have real coffee — and never again will Parmesan cheese be just something you sprinkle on spaghetti. On a lighter note who could ever forget 'Speedy J.R.'s disreputable sunhat around or Jeremy Naish's immaculate tent, or Mike Leask consuming five, or was it six, chappattis at breakfast every morning. Then there was Stephen Simpson's affection for goats, as well as his constant letter writing to his wife and children, or Ram Prasad's ever cheerful smile below his tea-towel turban, and Git Singh's run down the moraine to the mess tent with the teapot and his greeting of 'Chai Sahib'. Finally, there was that last night at base camp when the late sun put a blush on the summit of Devistan and whilst we stood around the campfire, a thoughtful Jim Murray produced an unexpected but magic bottle of 'Virginia Gentleman' whisky for a final toast.

(Eileen Jackson)

By giving you some of Eileen's thoughts on the expedition, I have jumped ahead of the story which is really about the intention we had of climbing two peaks, Mrigthuni 6855 m and Devistan South 6648 m. We didn't in the end climb either of them, but did make the ascent of a third, and also achieved other worthwhile aims. Here is how it all worked out.

Diplomatic Relations

Once base camp was organised we wasted no time but set up a Camp I on the prow of a moraine below Mrigthuni 6855 m and Devistan South 6648 m. From this camp, Brian and Mike reconnoitred to almost 5800 m on the northwest ridge of Devistan and during a two-day reconnaissance in misty cold weather, Jim and Stephen worked out a possible route towards a Camp 2 on the glacier of Mrigthuni. By this time a party of twelve mountaineers, members of an Italian expedition had arrived at Trisul base, and to our dismay they also were to attempt the ascent of the northwest ridge of Devistan South. Some sensible discussion between our two expeditions was immediately essential and along with 'J.R.' and Ajay, I visited the Italian camp. We finally agreed the following:

(1) It was agreed by all that unfortunately the Indian Mountaineering Foundation, through circumstances that could not have been foreseen, had given permission for the two expeditions to attempt the same peak, by the same route, at the same time.

(2) All appreciated that the Gorphwysfa Expedition had already established a Camp 1 that allowed of a two pronged approach to the two mountains.

(a) to the northwest ridge of Devistan South and

(b) to Mrigthuni.

As our expedition was already on the two mountains, it was not realistic to retreat — however.

(3) We agreed on behalf of the rest of the Gorphwysfa team that we would concentrate our efforts on Mrigthuni, allowing the Italians, because they only had permission for the one mountain, a clear run at Devistan.

From thereon, both parties operated amicably and throughout it all our liaison officers did a fine job.

Attempt on Mrigthuni — High Hopes and Storm

By the 20^th September, J.R., Stephen and I with the help of Noti and Govind Singh finally established Camp 2 at 5700 m on Mrigthuni. Early morning clouds had quickly dispersed so that soon the whole face of the mountain became clear and east of Mrigthuni we could see the pass between Devistan South and Maiktoli summits. I remembered the talks I used to have with Wilfred Noyce about Maiktoli when we were in Kashmir together. In 1943 he had climbed one of the lesser summits and whilst winding our way through the crevasses on Mrigthuni, I pondered on the possibility of eventually crossing the pass to see Maiktoli for myself. Quickly we erected two of our Limpet tents at Camp 2, then returned to join the others. There was no doubt that the weather was improving and at all our camps the clear, crisp, starry nights were being followed by days of brilliant clarity that gave us imposing views of Trisul, the Devistan wall and of Dunagiri at the end of the valley. Two days later, Brian and Mike with two high altitude porters set up Camp 3 at 6250 m and meanwhile the rest of us carried supplies to Camp 2. Eileen, lips smeared liberally with 'Labisan' looked like a refugee from a minstrel show but thoroughly enjoyed her carry to 5700 m and apart from her usual loss of appetite at heights over 5000 m was clearly doing well. Around this time the logistics of ascent were becoming complicated. I had written schedules for use of tentage and for movements among the team to ensure that by the 24^th of September, three weeks exactly from leaving Heathrow Airport, I could have some expedition members reaching the summit. It being the first time to the Himalaya for most, it was my dearest wish to put all the climbing members on top within twenty-three days. We all had high hopes and on the 23^rd, my first summit party of 'J.R.' Stephen and Govind Singh were settled in at Camp 3.

'How are you all up there' I asked on the C.B. radio.

'We're fine and the weather is good. The deep snow makes it heavy going but we will reach the top tomorrow' John's confident prediction ended with a brief description of the panorama which took in Changabang, Kalanka, Dunagiri and the nearby massive summits of Nanda Devi.

'Best of luck for tomorrow then. Have a good mountain day.'

Switching off, I knew that to reach the summit would be a moment they would never forget. Once again, the night was clear and cold and before turning in to our Meade tent at Camp 1, I took an early evening photograph of Trisul. It was one of those iridescent pale gold sunsets and all seemed set for a successful ascent the next day.

During the night, I woke to hear the flapping of canvas and the rustle of snowflakes on the tent fabric. Much new snow had fallen by the dawn and we all knew that at Camp 3 with the strong wind, the conditions would be much worse and rapidly deteriorating. Our planned early radio contact was unsuccessful and though I made a call each half hour thereafter, there was no reply. The silence seemed ominous and I could imagine and snow packing and piling up dangerously on the slopes above and below Camp 3. With no radio contact forthcoming, I felt real concern and considered the following possibilities and alternatives.

(1) The summit party was O.K. and on the way down to Camp 1 but because of conditions and the pressures of the moment were not bothering to make radio contact. This omission would be surprising and most unlike 'J.R.' but nevertheless a decision he could be having to make.

(2) The party was down safely to Camp 2 and staying there but not bothering to make radio contact. This would be so irresponsible I could not believe it to be possible.

(3) The party was staying at Camp 3. I felt that no one would try to sit out the storm with the small amount of H/A rations available. If however, they were still at Camp 3 then it could be that conditions would not allow them to move. If this was so, their plight would be becoming more dangerous every hour. However, this seemed not to be a likely situation because of the lack of radio contact.

(4) Finally, I had to consider that the party had left Camp 3 to descend, without making radio contact and had been involved in some disaster on the route.

I rejected 2 as being unlikely in the extreme, and felt that 3 though possible was much less likely than 4. On the whole I favoured the first alternative but nevertheless knew that by 1 p.m. I must send out a first search party and that because of the possibilities in alternatives 3 and 4 the party must be made up of those who knew the route above Camp 2. It had to be Mike and Brian with their two H/A porters. I watched them leave with trepidation but treated the moment with as much light heartedness as possible, for I wondered what Stella (J.R.'s daughter) might be thinking at that time.

I may have seemed callous by showing a light hearted attitude, but really it was a tense situation and became more so when we saw one lone figure descending towards our rockpoint marker on the glacier. Where were the others? What could have happened to them? Brian moved up quickly to the staggering figure, then there was much gesticulation and Brian shouted to Mike "All is O.K. The others are on their way down''. Mike radioed the message back to our waiting group at Camp 1 and there was massive relief all round. This set back was a bitter blow, but John and Stephen's report of conditions, and the continuing poor weather left me in no doubt that we should immediately return to base camp and there eat better, steep warmer, save fuel, conserve our meagre H/A rations, and ride out the storm.

Skis on Trisul and the 'Pass of the Goat'

The storms continued for one more week during which time a lot of snow fell in high wind, forming slab avalanches. It was a trying period for everybody but one we didn't waste. We had previously planned to attempt two things in addition to the climbing. The first was to seek out a rumoured goat herders route to the inner sanctuary of Nanda Devi. Govind Singh had told us on the trek that such a route had been found and used by men from his village. The second was for Eileen and me, along with others who were interested, to set up a Ski Camp on Trisul. First of all we had to obtain permission to ski on the lower slopes, from the Japanese, who were attempting the ascent of the mountain on ski. Like us, they also had been stopped by the storm but already they had set up camps to over 6100 m. They gave us the permission and with some excitement Eileen and I remembered ski days we had shared with the India-Tibet Border Police in Kullu several years before. Two of our companions at that time were the first to make a ski ascent of Trisul, and loud and long were the songs of praise that had been sung for Dorje and Lil Bahadur.

With the help of Jeremy, John and Brian we placed a ski camp at 5650 m on the mountain and two days later, following further falls of snow, we occupied the camp for two days. During these two days Eileen gave Paul and Stella Barczak, our two doctors, their first ski lessons at 5700 m. This must be quite a record height for a first ski lesson and beats by several hundred feet the height at which we gave Sirdar Dawa Tenzing his first ski lessons in the Everest area during 1976.

Whilst Eileen was busy teaching, I made a strenuous ascent on ski over virgin convex slopes, to the Japanese Camp at around 6000 m. Two of the Japanese team were there, and to my surprise I found that Ajay Thanka our Indian Liaison Officer had also cramponed up the lower flanks using the Japanese route. Following the previous days of storm and high winds, we enjoyed the warmth of the sun, the calm, and most of all the clarity of the atmosphere. Changabang, Kalanka and Dunagiri beyond the Trisul gal seemed but a stones throw away and the twin peaks of the Goddess Nanda rose majestically above the sanctuary wall. At last all seemed right with the World.

The Japanese skiers left for their Camp 2 and Ajay began the descent back to the ski camp. Reluctant to go down, I followed the Japanese ski trail for some way, reaching a height of 6100 m thereby achieving an ambition I had had for many years. It was also a good vantage point for looking at the slopes of Mrigthuni. A disturbing factor was that I could see that numerous slab avalanches had poured down the face of the mountain and over our route of ascent. Slab had also demolished, and apparently buried our tents, which were no longer visible at Camp 3. Snowfalls in high wind invariably means slab and the decision to pull everybody off the mountain seemed justified.

Finally, I turned away to return to my companions. Descent over the convex slopes was made on long gliding traverses because of areas of breaking crust -—the leg breaking kind — and remembering what had happened in Garhwal thirty years before, I took my time. This ski experience was a particularly satisfying and carefree break, though all too short, and I remember it for reasons other than that it was the coldest camp in which I have ever slept. Stella, Paul and Eileen also skied and in addition provided welcome sustenance and cheer. Mike remained his usual happy and imperturbable self whilst quietly filming our moments on ski, and Ajay Thanka was as always huge and friendly and enjoying being amongst his mountains.

All of us from ski camp returned to base to find that Jeremy and Brian had successfully found the goat route, and then ascended to a pass at over 6000 m. The pass proved to be a natural break in the sanctuary wall and from it they cold see the descent was relatively easy into the inner-sanctuary of Nanda Devi. Theirs had been a 'tour de force' by making the ascent and return all in one day.

Though it does demonstrate the extreme feasibility of the pass which we named 'Bwlch y Geifr; (Pass of the Goats) we have to hope it will not be used in the future as an alternative to the more difficult entrance to the 'Sanctuary' via the Rishi ganga Gorge. The sensitive environment could suffer badly from an increase in the number of travellers going there, or from a disastrous influx of goat herders with their goats.

By now the weather was improving, but perhaps because of the instability caused by the depths of new snow, the hanging glaciers were constantly breaking off and the tumbling ice disintegrating to form powerful airborne powder avalanches. Ice cliffs on Devistan were becoming exceptionally precarious and the Italians decided to abandon their attempts on the northwest ridge and return home. You could almost feel their despair at having to retreat but clearly they appreciated the opportunity we had given them of a clear ascent route on the mountain. Before leaving, they wished us well, generously handed over parcels of Parmesan cheese, packets of roast ground coffee, and a broken, but useable coffee percolator. These things brought a small and welcome change in our diet, luxuries really, but a boost to our morale, a gift from hill people known only fleetingly yet friends we would remember.

Success on Bethartoli Himal South

On one day during the week of storms, Brian Eileen and I, ascended the slopes rising to the west of base camp. It was snowing, visibility was poor, and there was little to see except at one point we found stone stripes and stone polygons, evidence of permafrost. I photographed them.

'It's good to be moving and not cramped inside a tent' said Eileen

'Definitely' was Brian's response' and what exposure are you giving those polygons John?

'On — a hundred and twenty-fifth at F8 — and soon we should be stopping for lunch'. I was feeling hungry.

Each of us brushed snow off the rocks and sat munching our chappattis and egg; the clouds began to break open and for a short spell the weather was clear. Across the valley we could see the sanctuary wall and behind us when the clouds rose higher, a high white peak revealed itself looking promisingly accessible.

Brian was excited "What do you think it is?''

'I don't know' was my reply 'but it looks high. Around 21,000 ft. I should think and wouldn't it be good to have a crack at it?'

Our feeling of despondency because of the weather gave rise to hope and a more buoyant outlook on life. We descended back to camp in much happier mood and a quick examination of maps determined that our peak was most probably Bethartoli Himal South, a mountain 6316 m in height.

We decided that having given up our chance of climbing Devistan to the Italian expedition, we would be justified in taking the Bethartoli peak as a replacement. A reconnaissance was needed and whilst Jim and Jeremy made an abortive attempt in thigh deep heavy snow to reach the site of Camp 3 on Mrigthuni, Stephen and J.R. set up a Camp 1 on Bethartoli at 5480 m. Later, from this camp, they made the ascent. First, they traversed a snowdome, crossed ridge, then descended to the Bethartoli glacier.

After the snow dome and the crossing of the ridge the progress across the glacier was slow and laborious for many hours, then the final seven or eight hundred feet was steep and crevassed, providing tiring cramponing for them on blue ice, but it took them to the summit. Success at last!

This the expedition members richly deserved, for all had put in much hard effort throughout the good weather and the bad. Returning from the summit. Stephen and John came right down to base and it was long dark before we saw them. For a time 1 waited alone some way down in the ablation valley below the camp. Many Mousehares (Ochotona) kept me company, but more exciting, for over thirty minutes, whilst I sat by a glacial erratic, I watched a flock of ten Bharal (Himalayan Blue Sheep), grazing quietly on the sparse grass. Eventually they trotted off from the grazing site, possibly disturbed by the voices and the flashing lights from the summiteers coming down the mountain. A memorable day.

Avalanche Peak Again

Later, Brian and Mike made a second attempt to ascend Bethartoli, and early on the same day, Ajay and I left base camp to reach Camp 1 then crossed the snowdome and the rock ridge to the glacier. Ahead of us, we watched the two tiny figures of Brian and Mike ascending to the col at 6100 m and having reached it, they disappeared from view so we turned away to photograph the surrounding peaks, Dunagiri, Changabang, Nanda Devi East and West and many others. These peaks and those of northwest Garhwal in the region of the Satopanth were breathtakingly crisp and clean following the many days of storm. It is so often the way. Picking out Avalanche Peak from the multitude of mountains, I remembered my vow of thirty years before, and was glad that I had finally attained its promise along with friends from the Gorphwysfa Club.

We turned away from the glacier and on descending the snowdome found excellent stone polygons and stripes on the broad shoulder of the ridge, again evidence of sporadic permafrost. Small clumps of Wild Rhubarb were beginning to show between the stones, choughs 'chack chacked' overhead and at the head of the Trisulgal, the two mountains that had been our original objectives, Devistan South and Mrigthuni stood out boldly and frustratingly clear. Our time in the Trisul gal was at an end but it was no use regretting missing those ascents, and Bethartoli Himal was a splendid alternative prize.

It was later during the walk out to Joshimath that the porter grapevine told us of the many accidents in the Garhwal Himalaya and this was confirmed when in Delhi we reported to the Indian Mountaineering Foundation. During our few weeks stay in Garhwal, over twenty mountaineers and H/A porters had lost their lives in the storms and subsequent avalanches — it had been by far the worst disaster year anyone could remember in that region.

From the rock ridge we returned to the lower camp then descended to base, feeling sure that quite deservedly, Mike and Brian would reach the summit but again the fates decided otherwise. Brian, the prize within his grasp became violently ill at around 6140 m and later in the afternoon both climbers arrived back at base. Theirs was a fine attempt and it was ironic that sickness had struck at just the wrong time.

Brief Reflection

Our last day at base camp was beautifully clear whilst we packed ready to leave and Eileen's 'Moment of Truth' reminds me of the sunset on Devistan and of the similar rosy glow produced by drinking a dram of Jim's Virginia Gentleman'.

After the others had turned in and it being a clear moonlight night, I walked a little way up the ablation valley. Down below, the glacier gave a creak and a groan and no doubt because of this movement, there was a skittering and crashing of boulders tumbling down the steep moraine. Above me, a soft bleat and rustling of many bodies was a reminder that earlier, a flock of sheep had arrived, each animal to carry a load of 20 or so pounds on the way out to Joshimath. The mountains, gripped in intense cold still showed and I reflected that ours had been but a fleeting moment in their history. Once again, I questioned what it was that drew us to them.

Each person must have his or her own unique reason, each their own difference of appreciation and secret urge. For me, there had always been the attraction of the environment, the pull of the wild and the unknown, as well as the satisfaction of understanding what becomes friendly and familiar. The mountains of southeast Garhwal had been kind to me. It was good to have led a moderately successful team and both Eileen and I had filled our days with worthwhile experiences in the company of splendid companions. Turning back to the tents, I remembered the lines written by Geoffrey Winthrop Young, — possibly at the Gorphwysfa Inn at the head of Llanberis.

I may not grudge the little left undone.

I hold the heights, I keep the dreams I won.

I hoped the rest of the expedition members would feel that 'we' could fittingly be substituted for 'I' in the quotation.

Return and Final Thoughts

We descended the Rishi and returned to Joshimath in mixed weather conditions of sun and snow. At the Dharansi Pass, Lammergeir and Mountain Choughs circled hopefully for food and once again the Mousehares scurried amongst the rocks as this time we descended the ridge to Lata Karak and the mountain village of Lata.

On the way up to the Dharansi, we frequently looked back to the peaks of Nanda Devi enclosed within the 'Sanctuary'. It was mountaineers who first gave it that name and when eventually Shipton and Tilman found the way into it, they found it to be an area of lush grazing where wild life lived free from the depredations of man.

Bharal, Musk Deer, Snow Leopard, Goral and other spectacular animals, plus a wide variety of bird life had lived there unmolested for centuries but during the last two decades, expeditions plus goat herders and poachers have played havoc with the fragile ecosystem. In 1978 all trekking as such was stopped and despite the fact that the area was eventually designated a National Park, the supervision and efforts at conservation did not prove adequate to reverse the trend of environmental despoliation.

Finally in the 1980's the Indian Government closed down all access to the Sanctuary, the Rishi ganga and the Trisul gal not only to treks but also to everyone — expeditions and goat herders alike. This was for an unspecified period and we have to hope that before the area is reopened, a detailed and carefully worked out plan of supervision and control is established to ensure that conservation of this wilderness area is assured. It would be sad if treks and expeditions were not be allowed there again, particularly as the worst offenders are the goat herders and poachers. But rightly, unless the standards and quality of treks and expeditions improves, it may be decided that man in any numbers should not got there again.

This does not mean that trekking would be finished in Garhwal — far from it. Areas to the north and west are still open. 'Pilgrimage' or Yatra treks to the Gangotri, Badrinath and Kedarnath are still possible and these are reached via Haridhwar and Rishikesh. Other areas such as the Pindari glacier and Rup Kund are even more readily accessible from Karnaprayag or via splendid trekking country north of Naini Tal and Raniket. This country takes you right up to the outer rim of those great mountains we climbed and skied on in the 'outer sanctuary' of Nanda Devi.

SUMMERY

Explorations of the Rishi Ganga and Outer Nanda Devi Sanctuary.

 

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