CLIMBING IN LHONAK, 1936

LIEUT. J. B. HARRISON

ON the 26th May we left the Zemu valley and started for the Lhonak valley up the steep, narrow Lhonak Chu. The party consisted of J. K. Cooke, who had been with Marco Pallis on his attempt on Simvu,⁸ myself, five Sherpa porters, of whom two were completely equipped for high climbing, and fifteen Lachen men. Our plan was to pitch a base camp in some central spot in Lhonak, dismiss the Lachen porters, and then spend anything up to a month wandering round and climbing on the surrounding hills.² The name of Pyramid, a 23,400-foot peak lying some eight miles north of Kangchenjunga, was most frequently on our tongues. We had no information as to its practicability or otherwise, but it gave us an immediate aim. On the 28th, after a most enjoyable three-days' march, starting among the tangled rhododendron forest of the Zemu valley, through the azalea belt, then in full flower, we put up our base camp among brown desolate hills, just at the junction of the Langpo Chu and the Podon Chu, which unite and run into the main Lhonak Chu from the south-west, and which have their sources in the glaciers of the basin formed by the Langpo, Pyramid, and Tent peaks.

It was a good site at a height of 16,000 feet on the upper juniper level. So far we had seen nothing of Pyramid, but our camp was in sight of a grand little mountain, which we identified as the Fluted peak, height 19,877 feet, and which we determined to attempt some time.⁹

The weather had been unsettled for some days, so we decided to waste no time, but paid off our Lachen men at once and the next day started off up the tongue of land which separates the Langpo and the Podon streams, with our five Sherpas carrying kit and food for ten days.

A word here about the Lachen men may not be out of place. Their village is strategically situated near the entrance to the Zemu valley, which leads to Kangchenjunga, and with the increasing popu- larity of northern Sikkim as a climbing and travelling centre they have grasped their opportunity with both hands. They drive a hard bargain and demand double the pay with which men lower down the valley are satisfied. On the march, once off the main track, they continually try to shorten each day's march and so lengthen the time for the total march by declaring, about midday, that beyond that particular spot there would be no more fuel or water, or by making some such excuse. The more they get the more they ask. We found the best way to deal with them was to offer them a lump sum for the whole trip based on our own calculations of distance and ground. Once they found that they could not impose on us they carried extraordinarily well.

To revert to the story. We established Camp 1 at about 18,000 feet on the southern lateral moraine of the East Langpo glacier. This camp was just across a little valley from Fluted peak, and, in addition, we could at last see something of the ridge by which we hoped to climb Pyramid. This ridge, which leads north-eastwards from Pyramid, appeared to present no difficulty if only we could get on to it. The route from the basin to the col between Pyramid and Langpo was still hidden. The actual summit of Pyramid was also hidden, but we could see a false crest on the ridge and we hoped that from it to the real summit the angle of the ridge would ease off. Our chief anxiety now was to see the wall from the basin to the col. The next morning, while having breakfast at about 5 o'clock, we heard, of all the unexpected sounds, a Swiss yodel, and soon afterwards we were joined by Spencer Chapman, who had also been with the Pallis expedition and who, since we had seen him last, nine days previously, had been to Gangtok and then come back to join us. That day we climbed up in the southern trough of the glacier and camped on the edge of the basin at 19,800 feet, just above the tip of the tongue previously mentioned, which divides the basin of the glacier into two, the East Langpo on the north and the beautifully serac-ed Chanson on the south. The glacier in the basin requires care. Apparently gently sloping and smooth, it is criss-crossed by enormously deep crevasses with narrow mouths, which were covered with a few inches of snow. Unfortunately the weather had changed and we pitched Camp 2 in a thick mist, which prevented the sight we wanted of the basin wall. From here we sent back the three unequipped porters, keeping the other two with us. The next day the weather was even worse and forced us to stay in Camp 2.

The following morning was hardly any better, but we decided to push on. We had had by this time intermittent views of the wall, enough to enable us to decide on the route. The wall consisted of a number of small rock ribs with snow gullies in between. Below the lowest point of the col was a hanging glacier, and to the left of this glacier and about two-thirds of the way up the wall was a huge, roughly triangular slab of yellowish rock. We aimed at one of the ribs, intending to push up it, then up the gully between the slab and the glacier; this looked unpleasant, but appeared to be the only way. From this gully we hoped to find a way on to the less steeply sloping top bulge of the hanging ice. Once there, the final 200 feet to the col appeared easy.

Pyramid and Fluted Peak

Alas for our hopes! The route chosen was all right, but we could not get started. We spent two hours trying to get off the glacier on to the rock rib. By midday two of us, after some rather ticklish climbing on loose, sloping rock, were 100 feet above the snow of the basin. The others at the bottom of the rib had to keep dodging little snow and rock shoots which were coming down the gully fairly frequently. Further to complicate matters, the weather had worsened ; the clouds had come down very low and it was snowing heavily. Next, when the porters realized that they were expected to come up they refused, nicely but firmly. At first we thought of taking one of our two tents and some food and of pushing on ourselves : we even started hauling up a few loads. It was rather stupid, and after ruining a rucksack and a kit-bag on sharp rocks we gave it up and, leaving the tents at Camp 2, we returned to the base camp, hoping to give the weather a chance of clearing.

Two days later we started up again, and this time moved Camp 2 as close under the wall as we could get with safety, at a height of about 20,000 feet. The next day, with only one porter, Ang Nima, an old Everest man, and carrying fairly heavy loads ourselves, we tackled the wall again on another of the rock ribs, and this time succeeded in getting up, although not without difficulty.

The rock was not pleasant, at a steep angle and with loose sloping holds filled with snow and rubble, and progress was slow. The gully between the yellow rock and the ice was very steep, but not dangerous, and we were lucky enough to find a way through the broken ice. At about 4.30 p.m., after climbing only 800 feet, we camped some 150 feet below the col. It had snowed lightly all day, but the evening was promising. The next morning dawned bright and clear, but with odd swirling gusts of wind, while from the col over our heads and from the summit of the two Langpo peaks streamers of snow were being blown. We packed camp—a simple matter, as we had only one tent for the four of us-—and half an hour later Chapman, who was leading, stuck his head over the col and was nearly blown out of his steps by the screaming north-west wind blowing straight from Everest, which we could see, enormous and, for some reason, yellowish in colour, some 50 miles away. The wind was positively numbing even at this altitude, and it was with very sympathetic interest that we gazed at Everest and tried to imagine what the high climbers there were experiencing thousands of feet higher on their ridge.

As soon as we looked about us it became obvious that we had struck the col at the wrong place. To our right the route to Langpo looked comparatively easy, though steep and possibly liable to avalanche, but to our left and between us and the broader Pyramid ridge lay a curving knife-edge of snow dropping very steeply on either side. We might have risked the wind on an easy slope or the ridge on a calm day, but the wind and the difficult ridge together were too much for us. We therefore dropped back into shelter below the col, repitched the tent, and left Ang Nima there while the three of us set off to try and find another route which would lead us on to the ridge to the west of the knife-edge. This we did by getting back into the gully and continuing up it, then bearing slightly left up a steep snow slope and through a small cornice to the crest. The next day, using the tracks we had already made, we got Ang Nima and the tent up on to the ridge.

There was still a strong wind blowing, but the route was now easy and we could all move together—a relief after the slow one-at-a-time movement to the ridge. About midday we came to a rather exciting- looking place where a crevasse split the ridge at an angle. This crevasse was backed by a sharp ridge of snow with a steep drop to the West Langpo glacier on the far side. Actually the place presented very little difficulty, and we turned the crevasse on the right and the three of us were strung out astride the ridge when Ang Nima jibbed, and we, rather weakly, gave in and decided to camp there. We should have hauled him and his load over the ridge separately. Our excuse is that we still thought that the angle of the ridge from the false summit we could see to the real summit would ease off, and as we were now at about 21,400 feet this would leave us about 2,000 feet to do the next day in a distance of about 1 ½ miles. That was our idea when we camped, but towards evening, having studied the ground more carefully, we became more pessimistic, and my diary for the day ended up . . the ridge to the summit of "the Sphinx" [for our own convenience we christened the false summit "The Sphinx", partly because of its proximity to the Pyramid and partly because it kept hidden the riddle of the final slope] will necessitate roped climbing and there are possible difficulties on it, we are on short rations, and above all we have not been able to examine the route from Sphinx to Pyramid. From this camp we can see the last slopes of the latter and there looks as if there may be a distinct drop between the two.' The next day the three of us started early with no loads and left Ang Nima in camp. The snow varied considerably; generally speaking there was wind-slab on the northern slope of the ridge, soft powder on the broader stretches of the ridge itself, and good binding snow on the southern slope. This was fortunate, as the route up the final 500 feet to the summit of Sphinx, which we reckoned to be 22,300 feet, led up very steep snow on the southern slope, and had the snow not been in such good condition the slope would have been too dangerous to tackle.

We hurried over the top, anxious to see what lay beyond, only to find our worst fears realized. Below us the ridge dropped to another knife-edge col some 500 feet down, and then rose again to Pyramid in a series of snow and ice slopes and bulges which looked as if they would offer considerable climbing difficulties. The final 100 feet of this ridge appear to be of very steep ice. We actually dropped down some 300 feet towards the col before the futility of further advance became obvious and we turned back.

We reached Camp 4 about 2 p.m., packed it up, and went right back to base camp that night. An attempt on Pyramid along the ridge we chose is greatly complicated by the difficulty of getting laden porters up the wall to the Langpo-Sphinx ridge, yet the length of the route from this col to Pyramid and the probable climbing difficulties on the final slopes makes at least two well-provisioned camps above the col essential.

1. East Langpo glacier and the Sphinx peak

2. Camp at 20,000 feet, showing 21,000-foot col, Sphinx peak

3. Fluted peak from the south

4. Upper Lhonak valley and Korayedo peaks

After a few days’ botanizing under the enthusiastic direction of Chapman we started for Fluted peak with two porters. We went up the Langpo Chu and camped at about 17,800 feet at the foot of the southern branch of the east ridge of the peak. The next morning at dawn, 5 a.m., the three of us started out and had an immediate thrill when we discovered snow-leopard tracks round our tent. This was a most enjoyable climb along a serrated ridge with interesting rock alternating with sharp snow ridges. All went well till noon, when we wasted an hour and a half on one piece of rock. As we got higher the climbing became more difficult, the snow ridges, connecting the summits of the little rock ribs (which presumably give the peak its name), becoming very sharp and steep. In fact they were so sharp that the only way Cooke, who was leading, could deal with them, was by straddling them and knocking off the top two feet. We had set our time-limit at 3 p.m., and at that time were still 200 feet from the summit. That 200 feet contained a curling knife-edge, blocked at the far end by a 12-foot lump of ice, and then a sharp steep snow ridge to the summit. Here I lifted up my voice and loudly demanded that we should turn back. However, I was in the middle of the rope, and as the others wanted to go on I had to go too, and in the end I was grateful to them, for half an hour later we were at the top. Unfortunately throughout the day we had been unable to get any view at all owing to low mist and snow. We spent something under a minute at the top, then turned and raced back down the ridge and arrived back in camp in pitch darkness just before 7 p.m.

I have not been able to discover any record of previous attempts on Pyramid, and all I have found about Fluted peak is that in 1932 G. H. Osmaston, F. C. Osmaston, A. B. Stobart, and J. Latimer made an attempt also along the east ridge, which failed 200 feet below the summit. Fluted peak is so attractive, however, that I feel other attempts must have been made on it. Kellas, for example, did a great deal of climbing in this district and could hardly have resisted its appeal.

The weather by this time had definitely broken, so we did no more climbing, but contented ourselves with an interesting little trip, leaving the main Lhonak valley at the grazing flat marked Dzanak, crossing a little pass of 17,800 feet, which has the local name of Shayok La, immediately south of the West Korayedo peak, and returning to the Lhonak valley at the yak-herd's hut at Langpo. We then made our way up the Chaka Chu past Ghabru Lake, over the Lungnak La, and so to Thangu and Lachen. Chapman was in a hurry to get back, so left Lachen one morning at 2.30 a.m. and arrived the same evening at 8 p.m. at Gangtok, a total drop of 7,000 feet, a climb of over 4,000 feet, and a total distance of 49 miles, all done in a pair of thin gymnasium-shoes with flapping rubber soles!

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