Annapurna (16 page)

Our spur continued towards the summit of Annapurna, but the jagged ice ridge, that looked like a cluster of cauliflowers, was scarcely any nearer to us now than when we had started up the spur – the clearness of the atmosphere quite falsified distances. Terray and I contemplated the difficulties that lay ahead, which we were now in a position to appreciate, and realized that it would take several days’ climbing to complete the route, even at the same pace we had kept up so far. Nature was too powerful, and the
obstacles
with which she confronted us were out of all proportion to our resources. No long exchange of opinions was necessary. Even if no other obstacles cropped up to hinder our progress – we were thinking of the possibility of a gap in the ridge – it would have been madness to launch an expedition on this route. No Alpine climb had ever presented us with the number of difficulties we had encountered here, and never in the Himalaya had men engaged in such acrobatics. With all my heart I hoped that the Annapurna glacier would give up its secret to Lachenal and Rébuffat. From our present situation it looked quite feasible and we had a good view of the plateau which they aimed to reach. Should they be forced to retreat, our last hope would have gone. Would all this activity, all this effort, all this trouble, result only in some quite secondary achievement? If so, we should be bitterly disappointed.

Without further delay – for we knew the hardest part still lay before us – we began the descent. Cautiously we moved down in turn, placing pitons whenever possible, for the rock was far from good. It was scorchingly hot in the sun, but in the shadow the cold was intense. We traversed across the slope, then started on the great ice ridge. This time the snow no longer held – it was quite loose and we would rather have been on bare ice. Terray started off; I belayed him with pitons, but the limited number we had with us forced me to take most of them out. So I had to go down by myself, with no belay, under the watchful eye of Terray, who knew very well that if I slipped I should inevitably drag him off too. When it was his turn I watched him go down face outwards with slow, carefully studied movements so that he should always be in perfect balance. He told me later that twice he had begun to slip and twice been able to pull himself up. My technique was different: I went down face to the slope, using my hands as much as my feet. With my right foot I felt the ice, searching for a good hold and putting my foot in position without being able to see what I was doing; my left foot held, in spite of the soft snow, by the two front points of my crampons. With my left hand I pressed the wet snow against the ice, using this as a sort of little hold; with my right hand I used my ice-axe as an anchor, with the pick stuck a few millimetres into the rock-hard ice. When my right foot was in position and my balance re-established on three points of contact, such as they were, it was the turn of the left foot to repeat the operation. It was an
extraordinary
reptilian progress, a kind of balancing trick, in which I held the mountain very gently without jolting it either by speed or movement.

‘Hullo, you up there!’ It was Schatz’s voice. He was coming up to help us. Terray, who was nearer to him, called out that we were giving up.

‘Hi, Schatz, take the tent down, we’re going back to Base Camp.’

Schatz heard, and watched our progress from a little way off. The clouds were now all round us, and the mist was down and everything melted into a dull uniformity. We put in pitons, judged the distance still left to go, and fixed our spare rope for a rappel. I watched the piton as Terray went down first on the doubled rope; it curved and bent over at each jerk, but came back to its original position, and the ice was so hard that I did not really worry much. Then in my turn I put the rope round myself in the usual way and quickly joined Terray who had prepared a landing-place for me with his ice-axe. I brought down the doubled rope by pulling on one of the ends, and soon we reached the rocks. We could not conceal our relief as we took off our crampons. A second later we started on the traverse of the rock ridge with such enthusiasm and such a strong wish to get down at least as far as the saddle by evening, that what had taken us half an hour up in the morning now took only a few minutes.

A race against time began. Terray and I tore along the easy bits of the ridge, sliding down chimneys and shooting down couloirs. In spite of the cold we were soon sweating hard. In record time we reached the camp we had left that morning, and found Schatz and Sarki who had just finished taking the tent down. While we swallowed beef in tomato sauce, and nougat, and sipped the excellent tea which Terray had just made, we summed up in jerky sentences the significance of the enterprise. Those thrilling and inspiring moments, which were yet so exhausting, had led only to a useless victory on a minor spur of the mountain. Nevertheless, as Terray declared later, nothing would ever equal those desperate days when he gave so freely of his courage, strength and resolution.

The cloud ceiling was low, but we hoped the weather would become more settled. We soon reached the pitch where we had left the nylon line, and one after the other we went down into space and then re-assembled again on the narrow platform where Rébuffat
and
I had spent the night before last. The four of us carried two entire high-altitude camps over difficult and dangerous ground, but this did not slow up our pace. Sarki was terrified at our speed, but was not long in adopting a rhythm as rapid as that of the Sahibs. There was thick snow on the spur and we had to take all kinds of precautions. As soon as we were over the difficult pitches we raced on again, for all of us were keyed up by the rhythm of action. The saddle was getting visibly nearer, we negotiated the last pitches, and then ran down the grassy slopes now covered with fresh snow. Soon we all reached the advanced camp which had been established during the assault on the shoulder of the spur. We came down in a few hours what it had taken us two days to get up. The Base Camp on the moraine in the bed of the valley was plainly visible – the yellow of the tents stood out distinctly against the uniform grey of the surrounding stones. The rain, or rather the wet snow, which had been falling a few minutes earlier, had now turned to a light drizzle. Terray and I glanced at each other in agreement; in a second we had collected from the two Base Camp tents as much equipment as we could, made up our sacks and sprung off down the slopes. Schatz and Sarki tried to keep up with us, but we had apparently been transformed into human projectiles, hurtling down in spite of our sacks, which threatened to throw us off balance. We controlled our speed by jumping against tufts of grass and any irregularity of the ground. Traversing left we reached a tongue of snow lying in the bed of a little valley: without hesitation we glissaded down, describing some magnificent slaloms. By this elegant and rapid method we gained the moraine a few minutes later.

Schatz must have been wondering why we went at such a rate – to tell the truth there was no reason at all. Instead of taking a quarter of an hour we might just as well have come down quietly in an hour. It was all due to the exhilaration produced by this splendid day of hard climbing.

At Base Camp we were greeted with sensational news. Lachenal and Rébuffat had sent back their Sherpa with a note: the right bank of the glacier was practicable, and they guaranteed to reach the plateau which they had so far not been able to see. On the other hand they had been able to see nothing of the upper part of Annapurna. From the point Terray and I had reached on the spur,
at
a height of about 20,000 feet, I had been able to see the whole of the section which had remained invisible to them. I knew that the plateau was level and would present no difficulties.

For the first time during the expedition we had real grounds for hope. Were our perseverance and our faith at last to be rewarded? In a few hours the fate of the expedition would be decided.

For the moment we dried ourselves – all our clothes were soaked with rain, melting snow and sweat. Schatz arrived with Sarki and plans for the next day were immediately drawn up.

‘I’ve spotted my own little route,’ said Schatz. ‘Give me two Sherpas and …’

‘Two Sherpas,’ cut in Terray. ‘And what next?’

‘Two high-altitude units and three days’ provisions.’

‘The Chief wants his own expedition,’ said Couzy, using the nickname given to Schatz in Alpine circles on account of his passion for organization.

‘Give him a chance to speak: what’s your idea?’

‘To go up the glacier by an easy ridge which I’ve spotted, and which would avoid the seracs on the right.’

‘He’s right,’ I said. ‘Supposing Lachenal and Rébuffat don’t succeed, what would you do next? You’d be extremely glad to have another string to your bow.’

At dawn next day Schatz went off, full of hope. He had been one of the discoverers of the route along the Miristi with Couzy and Oudot, and he now looked forward to being in the lead again and opening up the decisive route to the top of Annapurna. Terray and I, as well as Sarki, were worn out with our recent exertions, and we gave ourselves the next morning off. Early in the afternoon we would set off to rejoin the advance party, under the guidance of Ajeeba. This time I had great hopes and it took all my good sense to allow myself to ‘waste’ those few very precious hours.

‘Couzy, you are going to have a thankless job …’

‘What’s that?’

‘You will have to pack up the advanced camp on the spur, move the present Base Camp and establish a permanent Base Camp where I tell you – that is to say, at the furthest point we can get the porters up to.’

‘It certainly doesn’t sound much fun, but if the job’s really got to be done …’

‘Yes, it must be done, you know. And what’s more you’ll have only one Sherpa.’

‘It doesn’t sound like a picnic.’

‘You’ll have to carry loads yourself.’

For several days, Couzy, the youngest of the party, would, in spite of all his ardour and enthusiasm, be condemned to stay low to carry out an essential but unspectacular job. He did it to perfection and without a single word of complaint, although he knew that, when the final attack was launched, he would not be sufficiently acclimatized and so would lose the chance of being on it. It is this admirable spirit of self-denial which determines the strength of a team.

A very pleasant evening began in spite of the wretched weather. We were warmed by our hopes. Conversation flowed easily, and we vied with each other in good humour and courtesy. The hour of decision was drawing near.

The rain beat with deafening noise on the taut canvas of the tents, but we fell blissfully asleep, beautifully warm in our sleeping-bags. In my sleep I heard cries, the clanking of pitons, hushed voices, the sound of a stove, the noise of a tin being opened, stones rolling over: it was Schatz getting ready with Pansy and Aila. While it was still dark, he came to my tent.

‘I’m off, Maurice.’

‘What’s the weather like?’

‘The sky is full of stars.’

‘Good luck, Marcel.’

‘Thanks, goodbye.’

For a while I heard the noise of stones as the others moved off. How wonderful it is to stay in the warm when other people are at work! How pleasant just to be able to dream, with no sense of time, when you know that in a few hours the pleasant idleness will give place to action. Since the start of the expedition I had never had a moment’s quiet; this morning I had the chance to take things easy, and I thoroughly appreciated it. I got up and went round to the other tents: Terray, who had become possessed with the demon of orderliness, was sorting, tidying, selecting and organizing: on the eve of the critical time ahead he did not want to be caught unprepared. Before becoming immersed myself in this work I took
a
look at the mountains: the sun was already high, the temperature warm. It was a good day.

But everything comes to an end – even the best moments. I had one big worry. We were getting short of food, and I was anxious to make a list of what remained. We collected our stock together; then, squatting in the tent, I sorted things into different categories, spread them out, counted up and calculated. With the figures in my head, I could now have an easy mind. Early in the afternoon we set off carrying enormous sacks. I felt in grand form; the morning off had completely rested me after the last eight days of uninterrupted action, and the fine weather held.

The exhausting and monotonous moraines went on for miles, and several times one or other of us slipped on the stones which treacherously concealed hard black ice. Presently we saw a man coming to meet us: it was Ajeeba, bringing wonderful news. Lachenal and Rébuffat had reached the glacier plateau. Rébuffat added in his note that the way lay over rocks on the right bank which were easy to climb. So the great ice fall of the north Annapurna glacier had been overcome. With hope in our hearts, we hurried on. The temperature was quite tolerable and the nearby rocks reflected the warmth. The walls of the Great Barrier, in whose direction we were going, gradually came nearer: they were smooth and unclimbable, a slaty sombre grey. The moraine on the true right bank of the glacier, as so often happens, offered a quick easy route. Ajeeba was guiding us now, and by mid-afternoon we came to a sort of flattening of the moraine which spread out and abutted against the Great Barrier.

We now had to climb up the walls of the right bank. I decided this would be where the porters must stop, and made a quick sketch to indicate as near as possible the future site of the Base Camp. It was getting late and we wanted to make the plateau that evening. After leading us along at a good pace, Ajeeba brought us to the foot of the Great Barrier. A system of ledges cut by chimneys extending into couloirs enabled us to reach the top of the ice-fall of the Annapurna glacier. We were pretty exhausted by this march at high altitude and our sacks grew heavier and heavier. Dusk had fallen when at last we came to the foot of a big wall of ice where the first party had pitched their tent – the future Camp I – at a height of about 16,700 feet.

They welcomed us in the highest spirits. We could see nothing at this time of night, but they told us: