IN MEMORIAM

  1. PETER LLOYD, CBE
  2. KEKOO NAOROJI
  3. DR. PRABHAKAR A. NAIK
  4. T. H. TILLY
  5. LETTER FROM J.W.R. KEMPE ON HARRY TILLY

 

 

 

PETER LLOYD, CBE

(1907 — 2003)

Peter Lloyd — who was born on 26 June 1907 and died on 11 April 2003 aged 95 — was the last surviving team member of the pre-World War II British Expeditions to Mount Everest.

Lloyd's climbing apprenticeship began in the Lake District in the 1920s with Gino Watkins, Jack Longland, the brothers H.G. and L.R. Wager, Charles Warren, Tony Dummett and others. He was educated at Gresham's School, Holt, and Trinity College, Cambridge, where he read Chemistry and was elected President of the Cambridge University Mountaineering Club 1928-29.

He first went climbing in the Alps in 1926, at the age of 19 when, with Douglas Busk, they engaged a rather autocratic guide, Heinrich Burgener, as described in Busk's book Delectable Mountains. Although they did not have much say in the matter, it was a privileged beginning. They climbed the Wetterhorn, Mittelhorn, Monch, Fletschhorn, Lagginhorn and Nadelhorn. Peter never climbed with a guide again!

His application for membership of the Alpine Club was proposed by Arthur G. Whitting, seconded by Jack Longland and supported by Frank Smythe and Peter Bicknell. It listed his climbs over seven years 1926-32. After 1926, these were all guideless mostly of a high technical standard for those days e.g. in 1928 in the Mont Blanc area: Dent du Requin, Dent du Geant, Le Moine, Les Droites, Le Grepon, and in 1931 in the Swiss Valais: Rothorn, Dent Blanche, Matterhorn (Zmuttgrat), Weisshorn, Obergabelhorn, Wellenkuppe and the Taschhorn-Dom traverse. His principal companions were H.G. Wager, Charles Warren, G.W. Harris, C.G. Smith and G.A. Dummett. With this alpine record, it is not surprising that he earned a place, together with Tilman, Graham Brown and Noel Odell, on the British-American expedition to Nanda Devi, 7816 m, which they successfully climbed at the first attempt. Odell and Tilman were the summiters. Lloyd carried a load to the highest bivouac at 7298 m proving himself, in Tilman's words, 'capable of dealing with difficult rock at that height'. This was a magnificent team effort. Indeed, until the French ascent of the first 8000 m peak, Annapurna in 1950, it was the highest mountain climbed.

Two years later, in 1938, Lloyd again accompanied Tilman, this time to Everest. After the earlier heavyweight expeditions, this was a great opportunity for Tilman to apply his principles of comparative simplicity. 'Anything beyond what is needed for efficiency and safety is worse than useless.' The expedition cost £2,300. He chose a compact well-balanced climbing party of seven: Shipton 30, Smythe 37, Odell 47, Warren 32, Lloyd 30, Oliver 32, and himself 40 years old. But despite a high level of fitness, they were foiled by the weather. The upper slabs were covered in huge deposits of powder snow, into which they sank up to their hips, and were in obvious danger of being swept off the rocks by a snow avalanche. Shipton and Smythe made one attempt and Tilman and Lloyd another, but they both petered out at around 27,500'. However, for the first time useful comparative trials of open and closed circuit oxygen equipment were made under realistic high altitude conditions, which very much favoured the former.

On the expedition's return home, the question of oxygen was debated with some heat at the Royal Geographical Society. Despite the fact that his expedition had tested oxygen with some care, Tilman believed that mountaineering was analogous to sailing, and that any attempt on Everest should be made only with man's natural resources. But after Tilman and Lloyd had voiced their lack of enthusiasm, Lloyd rose to declare: 'I have a lot of sympathy with the sentimental objection to its use, and would rather see the mountain climbed without it than with; but, on the other hand, I would rather see the mountain climbed with it than not at all.'

Peter Lloyd (Courtesy John Cleare)

Peter Lloyd (Courtesy John Cleare)

World War II then intervened, but in 1949 the door to Nepal at last began to open, and permission was secured for the first ever exploratory climbing party, provided they also undertook some serious scientific work. Tilman, who had hitherto refused to mingle art with science, swallowed his scruples. A botanist, O. Polunin, and a geologist, J.S. Scott, agreed to accompany Tilman and Lloyd. Tenzing Norgay combined the roles of Sirdar and cook.They chose the less well mapped area of the Langtang Himal close to the Tibetan border across which lay the high peak of Gosainthan, now known as Shishapangma at 8046 m or 26,397 ft, the last of the fourteen 8000 m peaks to be climbed in 1964. Lloyd carried out photo-theodolite surveys and they got within 12 miles of it, the closest any climbers had yet been to the mountain. They also climbed Paldor, 19,451ft, which is now one of the popular trekking peaks. They were in the mountains from June to August so views were restricted by the monsoon weather and, as Tilman wrote, 'climbing took second place. Neither of us was ready for serious work. Indeed, as the result of some months spent in Australia, Lloyd had become a little gross, a fault which an insufficiently arduous approach march had done nothing to rectify.'

Although, with advancing age, the ability to tackle challenging climbs diminishes, the love of mountains can remain strong and there is an opportunity to put something back into the sport. Peter Lloyd seized this to the full. In the preparations before the successful ascent of Everest in 1953, Lloyd was put in charge of the oxygen equipment, assisted by Tom Bourdillon and Alf Bridge. From his experience in 1938, Lloyd distrusted the closed circuit design with its inherent complexity and claustrophobic effect in use. Even though Bourdillon was working on an improved closed circuit design for 1953, Lloyd felt the right tactic was to concentrate on improving the storage efficiency of a well engineered open circuit system (i.e. increasing the ratio of oxygen weight to total weight). In the event, twelve open and eight closed sets were taken for active use on the mountain and other open sets for training, sleeping and spares. Recalling his own sleepless nights at high altitude, it was Lloyd's idea to use oxygen at a low rate as an aid to sleeping. Hillary and Tenzing used the open circuit on their successful summit bid and later on Hunt wrote of the oxygen: 'only this, in my opinion, was vital to success. But for oxygen, we should certainly not have got to the top.'Over the years, Lloyd's conclusions have proved correct. It was not until 1978 that the first ascents without supplementary oxygen were made by Messner and Hiebeler. Today, when oxygen is used at all on the highest peaks, it is always with open circuit equipment, and Russian built cylinders or ones using composite materials (pressured to 300 bar!) with the highest weight ratio of oxygen are the most popular.

In the Alpine Club, Lloyd was elected Vice-President 1961-62 and President 1977-79, coinciding with the 25th Anniversary celebrations of the first ascent of Everest. It was decided to mark the occasion by raising additional funds for the Mount Everest Foundation. A number of lectures were organised; a reception at the Mansion House, an exhibition at the Science museum and another at the Club entitled 'Man and Mount Everest.' These events raised some £100,000 making a net addition to the Foundation's funds of £89,000 which doubled its existing capital assets. Peter was himself chairman of the Foundation 1982-84 during which he initiated publication of a 1:3,000,000 map and gazetteer of 'The Mountains of Central Asia.'

One of the achievements during his term as Alpine Club President which gave him most satisfaction was the resolution of a dispute over Mountain Training which had become acrimonious, with two training boards claiming to do the same job, with a threat of legal proceedings between them. Lloyd set up a Tribunal, chaired by Emlyn Jones, the president elect, to investigate and make proposals for a settlement which fortunately was accepted by both parties. He also highlighted the major problem of the Club's premises that, because of a very favourable lease renegotiated in 1956 by Emlyn Jones, 'we have in effect been living on capital in a style we can no longer afford.' It fell to the writer during his term as President to bring the Club to the difficult decision which led to the move in September 1991 into less prestigious but wholly owned premises at 55 Charlotte Road, the Club's first freehold property in its 134 year history.

So far I have concentrated on Peter's contribution to mountaineering, but he had an equally distinguished professional career. He worked for the Gas Light and Coke Company in London from 1930 until 1941 on the industrial design of furnaces. Frustrated at being in a reserved occupation when war began in 1939, he got himself posted to the Royal Aircraft Establishment branch at Exeter, where he worked on defences against low-flying aircraft. In 1941 he joined a group working on gas turbine engines under Hayne Constant, developing the new method of propulsion. In 1942 this was merged with Frank Whittle's group, which had been pioneering the pure jet form of propulsion.

The rest of his professional career was devoted to advancing the technology and applications of the gas turbine. Initially a research scientist, he was rapidly promoted to Head of the Combustion Department, by now at the National Gas Turbine Establishment at Pyestock. He was appointed CBE in 1957. In 1961 he moved to London as Director General of Engine Research and Development in the headquarters of the Ministry of Aviation, responsible for administering the Government's extensive involvement in the aero engine industry until 1969. He was particularly proud of two achievements. One was the Spey engine used widely in military and civil aircraft and the progenitor of the successful Tay engine. The other was the Harrier vertical take-off fighter powered by the remarkable Pegasus engine, a key ingredient of success in the Falklands war. (A Pegasus mascot adorned the bonnet of his car in Toowoomba, Queensland, where he settled in retirement.)

From 1969 to 1972 he was head of the British Defence Research and Supply Staff in Canberra, responsible for guiding the work of British Government officials engaged in cooperative defence projects with Australia and for the sale of British defence equipment. After retiring, he returned to England and became a director of Booth International Holdings, involved in the purchase of hides and skins, until 1979.

Michael Neale, one of Lloyd's professional engineering colleagues recalled that even though Peter had outlived virtually all his contemporaries, he is well remembered and his legacy to the aeronautical business lives on. 'He could appear austere and somewhat remote. He had the knack of asking the question that went right to the heart of an argument, and not infrequently demolished it. This, combined with a penetrating gaze from beneath formidable eyebrows, could unnerve his juniors particularly if they were seeking to present a less than watertight technical report. To those who knew him well, though, he was kindness personified, ever extending a helping hand to those following in his wake.'

When I moved with my family to Hartley Wintney in 1978 quite close to Peter and his second wife Joyce at Farnham, we came to know and value them as friends and genial hosts. When they decided to move permanently to Australia we had great pleasure in arranging a farewell lunch party for them at our home to which we invited his many Alpine Club friends. I cherish the group photograph which I took at the time and he greatly appreciated the copy I sent him; he assured me it would find a place on his desk. He was a most considerate, warm, generous and gentlemanly person.

In Toowoomba he remained an enthusiastic motorist. When he decided to trade in his old Jaguar for the latest large Volvo, the salesman was astonished to find himself delivering a new car to a man aged 92!

George Band

(Reprinted from the Alpine Journal 2003, with permission from the editor and the author)

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KEKOO NAOROJI

(1915 — 2003)

It is a wry reflection on human nature that we remember those most often who force themselves upon our consciousness by dint of powerful personality, presence or manner. And what of the quiet people, their auras woven tightly around their persona, whose work and ways we remember only when occasions move in particular directions? Men of the mountains tend often to fall into this category (!), and Kekoo Naoroji — one of the pillars of the Himalayan Club, and its President from 1986 to 1992, was definitely such an individual. So private and quiet that even close associates had few personal anecdotal memories of him — he had deep wellsprings of character and inner strength. These are rare in today's changeable times, and it gives me great pleasure to recall his sterling values with the respect they deserve.

Born in Karachi on 5 September 1915, to Jerbai and Nadirshaw Naoroji, Kekoo the eldest, his sister Freni and younger brother Kerse spent a happy childhood there. Their father, a very respected advocate, had been married earlier but had lost his wife in childbirth delivering their daughter, Gool. He married again several years later. Kerse remembers a carefree childhood playing in the large family compound with his siblings. There were not too many other children around, but their cousins from Mumbai — Sohrab, Dosa, Burjor and Naval Godrej — often visited Karachi and they all enjoyed playing together. Kekoo's father was a great raconteur, and all the kids looked forward eagerly to his return in the late evening after work, when he would spin them story after story from his imagination. Many such evenings would be spent with the kids sitting in rapt attention on the carpet around Nadirshaw, listening to his tales — times that Sohrab remembered even many years later! Such cherished childhood memories build traditions, and when it came to Kekoo's turn at fatherhood he passed on stories to his young son Rishad, reading from old classic legends and fables as well as Jim Corbett's tales of man-eating tigers from the Kumaun Hills — times that Rishad remembers eagerly looking forward to !

Kekoo had completed his BA in History and Economics from Dayaram Jethmal Sind College, Karachi, University of Bombay, in 1936, when the family decided to move to England for Nadirshaw's treatment as he had been detected with cancer. The children were also to complete their education there. Unfortunately in mid-June 1936, just before they were to leave, their mother had a mild heart attack and could not travel, their sister staying back to be with her. The boys and their father reached England, Nadirshaw consulted with a very well-known surgeon in England, Sir Charles Gordon-Watson (later to become the Chairman of the Board of Surgeons, and Royal Surgeon), who advised surgery that would treat the condition. Shockingly and within barely a week of his operation, his condition suddenly deteriorated and he passed away. This reverse made it economically impossible for both brothers to study in London, and younger brother Kerse returned home.

Kekoo stayed on and entered University College, London, to sit for his BSc in Economics. He obtained his degree from there in 1939.

Despite the circumstances, those were happy years for Kekoo. Always the quiet one, he must have come out of his shell in the new ambience of his English surroundings! He went on to be awarded full colours in swimming and badminton for University College. Having played the violin from a young age, he formed a string quartet with some of his friends, giving the occasional concert during lunch hours and in the evenings around the College! He used to say that Beethoven, Brahms and Mozart were the main fare at these concerts. He got on very well with his English college-mates, and kept up a lively correspondence with several of them even after he returned to India. By this time, the Second War was underway. Kekoo had joined ICI in England, but due to the War returned to India.

Back in Mumbai, he joined ICI India in their Dyes Division at Ballard Estate, living with his cousins in the Godrej family house at Ridge road on Malabar Hill.

He made his first trek to the Himalaya, in Kashmir, in 1944, following quite a little tradition within ICI and its Dyes Division, which had several serious trekkers and Himalayan Club members. Certainly strong inspiration would have come from them, since there was great camaraderie in the Dyes Division (in the annals of ICI India folklore the Dyes Division chaps were thought to consider themselves a cut above the 'hoi polloi' in the rest of the company!). Later Kekoo himself was responsible for introducing Soli Mehta, another recruit to the Dyes Division, to the Club. Soli, of course, was to become a mainstay of the Club and the Journal for many years.

Kekoo had also, during this time, been quietly getting to know Dosa, Pirojsha Godrej's only daughter, whom he wed in January 1947. Dosa was a very lively, high-spirited young lady, uncowed by being the only female in the heavily male-dominated family! She had been deprived of the priceless benefit of a mother's touch by the highly premature death of Soonabai her mother, who passed away at the age of thirty while recuperating from pneumonia in Mussoorie. Dosa was very active, loved riding horses, driving motorcycles and heavy vehicles — and made good use of her skills driving ambulances for the St. John's Ambulance Brigade during the War. And she would be among the first to volunteer to hand- crank the vehicles on a cold morning — something that caused her a broken wrist, when a crank-handle backfired. Quite a match for the quiet Kekoo!

They set up home at Belha Court on the seafront near the Taj Hotel, a home they would share for the next fifty years! They were happy together, setting up house and mixing quite a lot socially with their colleagues in ICI. Their only son Rishad was born on 30th August, 1951.

In 1950 Kekoo made another trek, through Kullu to the Lahaul valley over the Rohtang pass, and in the surrounding areas. Returning from this trip, one of his ICI colleagues proposed his name for membership to the Himalayan Club, a relationship he was to enjoy immensely for the next fifty years.

In 1952 Kekoo spent eleven weeks in central Garhwal, and his personal diary of this trip, as well as the account of his other major trip to the Himalaya in 1958 in Sikkim, formed the subject matter of a book, Himalayan Vignettes, that was brought out by his son Rishad and assisted by friends in the Himalayan Club (particularly Satya Dam, 'that master of map reading', Jagdish Nanavati, and Harish Kapadia). It was released at a special function at Godrej Bhavan at the hands of the President of the World Mountaineering Federation, Ian McNaught-Davis on 15 February 2003. This diary records very movingly his feelings about his wife and son (which explains why he made no further treks after that as according to him his absences imposed too much upon his family); reviewer Suman Dubey also commenting that this diary 'makes for far more interesting reading than much of the prose that passes for expedition reports these days'.

Eminent mountaineer Stephen Venables was particularly impressed by the photographs in the book. Partly because of the mountains themselves, 'The photos are magnificent. But it is also the actual style of the photos. The mountains are the stars and they are revealed in their best light, carefully framed and composed, with a sense of shape, form and texture...... On viewing the beautifully detailed photographs, I initially thought they were taken with large-format cameras, and was surprised to learn that Kekoo had used two 35 mm cameras — a Kodak Retina with a F3.5 Compur-Rapid lens and a Leica. And although he also shot in magnificent colour, he was working in an age still dominated by black and white. Nowadays, a good black and white photo is a rare treat.............. Anyone can take a passable colour digital snap but a good monochrome landscape picture requires patience, intelligence and vision'.

And Suman Dubey reminds us that not only did Kekoo travel 'only in the company of porters and Sherpas', his journeys took him 'into the lap of some of the world's grandest and most beautiful mountains, and he managed to climb quite high, reaching almost 6000 m just below Nepal Gap'. Ronnie Pillai, a younger ICI colleague of his, inspired by these solo treks, also visited Sikkim later. He commented, 'How Kekoo coped alone in Sikkim then baffles me still. The area was unpopulated in the 1950s — beautiful, remote, wild. Given an accident or sudden ill health in NW Sikkim meant having to walk for several days to either the villages of Lachen or Lachung. There were no helicopters then to come to one's rescue. Yet Kekoo managed to trek there by himself. I can see him now, puffing his pipe. Stoical — often with a shy smile — always determined.' Ronnie also remembers Kekoo as a gentle, kind man with reserves of great inner strength — something that has been remarked upon by others also.

K.N. Naoroji

K.N. Naoroji

These reserves were to be tested continuously and powerfully later in his life when the first tentacles of Alzheimer's disease started fastening themselves around Dosa. Kekoo's face to the world was always calm and collected, with that same shy smile hovering around his face, a trait often, and wrongly, interpreted as weakness or a sign of vacillation; interpretations that their observers were to deeply regret when they eventually realised that this was a man who never complained of his lot or discussed what he was going through, preferring to shoulder the burden alone.

Kekoo was one of only two senior Indian managers in ICI's Dyes Division in the 1950s and 60s — and his colleagues remember him as being refreshingly free of the artificial class distinctions that were very common in most expatriate-dominated companies of the time. Ronnie Pillai noted that Kekoo listened a lot and spoke little. He used to light his pipe or puff on it before answering a question. When this was remarked on, he replied that it gave him an opportunity to think about his reply! He once mentioned to Ronnie that pipe smokers were thought to be weak individuals, smiling enigmatically as he said it — and suggested that Ronnie should make up his mind about what Kekoo had just said! K. T. Thomas, who worked under Kekoo in his department, remembers him clearly as being very firm and fair with the bazaar traders, who were wont to aggressively jostle between themselves for imported dyes and chemicals, in very short supply at that time, and which had to be rationed. Thomas said that Kekoo was considered to be incorruptible. Being the Import- Export Manager, he travelled abroad a certain amount, and had the reputation of being very hardworking and resourceful — a thorough gentleman who took his responsibilities very seriously. K. T. Thomas remembers traveling with him abroad and how they would chat about work over a drink or dinner. Kekoo always struck him as enjoying and being very proud of his job with ICI. He was often referred to as a man of principle — no pomp or show but very simple. People also remember him as being a good friend.

When he finally retired from ICI, he was immediately invited by Godrej to head their export efforts. His brother remembers that Kekoo had deliberately avoided working with Godrej when he first came back to India, as he wanted his abilities to be respected on their own account rather than because he was connected to the family. However, now that his work with ICI was complete, in October 1967 he joined Godrej & Boyce, attending their office in Lalbaug.

Sohrab and Naval Godrej were very fond of their cousin Kekoo, Sohrab particularly so of his sister Dosa. He felt very close to the couple and spent at least some time everyday with them. Now that Kekoo was actually working with Godrej, he brought Sohrab into touch with the Himalayan Club, and Sohrab rapidly became a dedicated supporter of the Club's activities. In fact, it was due to the two of them that Godrej sponsored the 1992 Indo-British Panchuli Expedition, co-led by Sir Chris Bonington and Harish Kapadia.

When the Himalayan Club moved its headquarters to Mumbai, Kekoo became its first Secretary in 1971, its Vice President from 1983 — 85, and for seven years thereafter was President of the Club. Jagdish Nanavati remembers that the Club being a really friendly, informal group of volunteers drawn together solely by their interest in the Himalaya and the Club's activities, Kekoo's nature meshed very well. He took his responsibilities of helping to strengthen and consolidate Club activities seriously and his business experience enabled him bring a very pragmatic and sound sense to all the Committee dealings. He was the first to recommend differential subscription rates of membership and to the Club's Journal, according to the exchange rates. He was also very interested in the Club's activities, making it a point to attend all the Club's slide shows, talks and lectures. His modesty as a way of life endeared him to all who knew him within the Club.

There was nothing 'put on' about Kekoo, he was a genuinely empathetic individual. He actually cared about each of the people around him, and they sensed and appreciated that. This was how he was able to so comfortably make those long treks accompanied only by his Sherpa guides over quite lengthy periods of time. In later life, he made it a point to look after the needs of not just his help in his home, but also their families. They were honestly ready to do anything for him.

All Kekoo's interests, and he had several — in the outdoors, wildlife conservation, music, theatre, reading and mountaineering-were also lifelong and serious. Even his early interest in sports at college developed into a near obsession watching, say, Grand-Slam Tennis events on TV — all social engagements were cancelled while these were on! In fact he amazed a lot of people with several facets of his persona that emerged almost incidentally! Bill Aitken, commenting on Himalayan Vignettes exclaimed 'Superb quality — content and production... I had no idea he had been so original ! How rare to find a non-trumpeter-from-the-rooftops!'

And his devotion and attention to his wife during the long terrible process of her slipping, inexorably and inextricably, into the clutches of Alzheimer's was not only complete and total but also absolutely uncomplaining.

He took quiet, but great pride, in his son's growing skill in photography, his wildlife studies and his detailed raptor research. I believe he had secretly hoped that Rishad's book on raptors would be published before his own Himalayan Vignettes, though Rishad decided otherwise!

He passed away quietly on 17 December 2003 after a long period of ill health. Suffice it to say that he never complained — excepting only when he was finally forced to give up first his pipe and then his beloved glass of whisky in the evenings!

He was a gem of a person, and we will long remember him for the great inner strength and simplicity that he brought to his life. After his passing, Rishad, friends and Kekoo's colleagues in the Club, placed his ashes in different locations along the Himalaya (from Ladakh to Arunachal) that he loved so much. And, at 11.30 a.m. on 19 May 2004 another friend from the Himalayan Club, Commander Satyabrata Dam (leader of the victorious Indian Navy expedition) placed some of his ashes atop Everest.

While in life he reached only as far as he considered it correct and appropriate to do so — in death he fittingly flutters high above us all!

Vijay Crishna

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DR. PRABHAKAR A. NAIK

(1944 — 2002)

It was in late 1960s that I first met Dr. Prabhakar A. Naik. We were sleeping on a ledge on the fort of Chanderi in the Western Ghats. Suddenly in the middle of the night few lights appeared and we were approached by a group of trekkers climbing the fort in the moonlit night. Vijay Kothari, who was with me, knew its leader who was introduced as Prabhakar Naik, a young budding medical student. He sat with us for a while, partake some food and soon they disappeared into the night again. After that initial introduction we continued to meet often through common friends and started enjoying the local hills. In 1970 we planned a major expedition to Bethartoli Himal peak in the Garhwal Himalaya and we were looking for a doctor to accompany the team. Naik fitted well, he joined us for this trip and we became good friends. He completed studies and became a paediatric doctor from a leading hospital in Mumbai and went on to study further to specialise in this subject. Being a national level swimmer he was evidently very fit and with his steady and simple approach to life, he was a great companion.

These were the early days of trekking and we were all young and boisterous. Prabhakar was part of our group and we continued going on several trips in the local hills though being a medical doctor, he found it difficult to join on all the Himalayan trips. Soon he was married, to Dr Sheela and was busy, both as a doctor and a family person with two boys, Vikram and Aditya. We kept meeting in Mumbai at music programs; lectures, talks and he helped with the administration of the Himalayan Club and even reading manuscripts for the Himalayan Journal.

Soon a leading pharmaceutical company based abroad employed him and he travelled to most parts of the world. Once he showed me a passport, which was almost as thick as a book with stamps of almost all nations in it. At heart he always remained Indian and a very simple person. He introduced several of his friends from medical fraternity and medical companies to pleasures of hills and they went off to the Western Ghats almost every weekend during season.

Three decades ago a computer was a bit of a novelty in Mumbai and as an editor I was finding it difficult to operate in the old style. It was Prabhakar who put his computer at my disposal and introduced me to this modern technology. After initial reluctance he broke through my defence and made me pick up this box without which now I cannot live. I owe it to him.

Dr. P.A. Naik

Dr. P.A. Naik

And suddenly there was news that Prabhakar was not well and suffering from prostrate cancer. He kept his spirits, and as we met he rarely talked about his illness. As a doctor he knew all about it. Many times we sat long afternoons chatting on different subjects. One day suddenly he interrupted a conversation about politics and said, 'Will you do something for me?' and my instant reaction was, 'No, I won't, I am not going to enter politics'. He looked aghast at me, 'No, you won't do it for me? You are the only person who will do it. My last wish is to spread my ashes in the Himalaya'. His comment troubled me but keeping a brave face I said, 'Don't worry, Prabhakar there is still long time. I am just going for a month to the Himalaya and we will chat again when I come back'. He looked little sadly at me and said, 'I won't be there when you come back'. I couldn't bear this thought and walked out of the house just as he had walked into the darkness when we had first met.

I never saw him again. When I returned this gentleman, doctor, mountaineer and a person who had no vices in life was claimed by the disease. We will miss him. Dr. P. A. Naik leaves behind wife and two sons and lots of grieving friends. His ashes were spread in the Kumaun hills next year and he lives in front of Nanda Devi peak.

Harish Kapadia

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T. H. TILLY

(1908—2004)

Tobias Harry Tilly, a solicitor and mountaineer died at the age of 96 early in 2004. He had been a member of the Himalayan Club for sixty years during which time he had climbed extensively in Kashmir and Ladakh, in Sikkim and in northwest Garhwal.

I first met him in September 1944 when having completed my operational flying duties, I was seconded to the newly formed R.A.F. Mountaineering Centre in Kashmir. Harry was a Squadron Leader staff instructor and along with Wing Cmdr. Tony Smyth, Gordon Whittle, Wilfrid Noyce and others had already explored areas around Sonamarg and into Ladakh, making several ascents as well as reconnoitering possible trekking routes. For three months, he and I often climbed and trekked together and by the end of the year along with Wilfrid Noyce and Gordon Whittle, wrote a Climbers' Guide to Sonamarg which was published by the Himalayan Club on 1 January 1945. Tilly who had completed several ascents in the area wrote up the section on the 'Amarnath Group and Neighbouring Peaks'. He returned to Delhi early in 1945, then in the July took a short leave and along with Angtharkay went to Sikkim where they made the ascent of Chomoyummo (6829 m).

T. H. Tilly

T. H. Tilly

Noyce, Tilly and I always agreed to return to the Himalaya and frequently made plans when we met on climbing weekends in Snowdonia. Eventually the British Garhwal expedition came to fruition in 1952. Wilfrid Noyce was unable to be with us but we were fortunate that John Kempe, David Bryson and an Indian friend (Misra) were able to join us. Harry was our leader demonstrating his diplomacy and experience whenever any crises arose and smoothed away any problems when our Inner Line Pass was partially revoked. Initially we made minor ascents from the Bhagirath Kharak then explored in the Bangneu and attempted an unnanmed mountain.

Avalanches were frequent and during this attempt three of us were thrown down for over 250m, which resulted in Harry having badly damaged knee ligaments. He was unable to take any further part in the climbing but as leader was delighted that two of us returned to the Bangneu and made the first ascent of 'Avalanche Peak'. He was also pleased when later, David Bryson and I linked up with Victor Russenberger and Lucien George for an attempt on Nilkantha. This he always said was probably the first Joint Anglo-French attempt on an Himalayan peak. Following the 1952 expedition, Tilly was considered for the 1953 Everest expedition but because of the ligament injury, he declined. He thought his climbing skills were not of the standard required, which was nonsense.

In later years we often walked on the North Yorkshire Moors and over the rugged mountains of Scotland until he moved to live in South Tuscany in Italy where he developed a great love of the country, its art and architecture.

The Himalayan Club was his first club and it remained so to the end.

Johan A. Jackson

 

 

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LETTER FROM J.W.R. KEMPE ON HARRY TILLY

I met my old friend John Jackson and his wife Eileen at the H. C. dinner in London recently and he has sent me a copy of your letter to him asking for information about Harry Tilly who led the expedition to Nilkantha, Garhwal in 1953. It was my first expedition in the Himalaya (and I had been appointed Principal of the Hyderabad Public School). I learned a great deal from him about handling porters, organisation generally and of course the delights and to appreciate the beauty of the Himalaya. I kept a very full diary of the 5 expeditions that I took part in, during the next few year and here are a couple of extracts about Harry.

'We spent April 23 repacking stores at Ranikhet and selecting 20 healthy looking dhotiyal porters from the crowd. Harry had each kit bag weighed on a spring balance before it was tied up and sealed. He sat in an armchair on the verandah, a money box on his knees and a homburg on his head looking like a distinguished explorer from a Rider Haggard novel and gave the impression he could control the devil himself. However despite his charisma the dhotial held a trump card. They were split into groups like trade unions and so many protested and stood down that he had to start again. Harry remain unruffled and eventually 19 were selected. His experience as a solicitor made him ideal for the job.

At the foot of the Pindar river on the way, I was ahead of the party with John Jackson. Harry caught us up said that the river was sacred and that bathing, which we were about to do, would offend locals. I couldn't imagine that anyone would see us although Indians are said to lurk behind every stone. And wasn't every river sacred in India. John and I went ahead again and after climbing 2000 feet disobeyed orders.

Later after Harry had sprained his ankle and a horse was hired to carry him. Once mounted he once again assumed the status of a great Victorian explorer. The pilgrims route was no more than a footpath when we reached Badrinath, just below the source of the Ganges. We set up a temporary base camp nearby.

The snowfall in 1953 was unusually severe and Nilkantha was still threatened by avalanche. Harry's ankle was in better shape by May 11 and when he, John and I set off with 4 Sherpas along the moraine of a glacier, it was still snowing. They shared a tent for two and I had my single tent and joined them for dinner. I learned, when I crawled into their tent for dinner what would become a routine.'

I have no more room, but hope this may be useful as a tribute to Harry.

J. W. R. Kempe

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