Annapurna (33 page)

The column, composed of the two invalids, and of Oudot, Terray, Couzy, Ichac, Sarki and eight coolies, moved with painful slowness. Should we be able to reach the pre-arranged stopping-place before night? Judging by the time we had taken on the way up it
should
have been possible, even easy, but seeing the porters struggling beneath the weight of their burdens, and constantly sliding on the moraine where every step was a problem, we began to have our doubts. Time was getting on. The clouds lifted and the rain stopped for a while. We lacked torches and food: Angtharkay, unaware of
our
difficulties, had not made any provision for the party in the rear, so Sarki was sent on ahead with a message.

We were soon completely lost in a featureless country with neither colour nor horizon. The scree of the moraine had given place to enormous boulders surrounded with a prickly vegetation which hindered our movements still further. The porters showed great fortitude, and made no complaint. Night fell and three torches discovered among our baggage were brought into action. The Sahibs guided the coolies in the mist and the rain which had started up again harder than ever. It was past 8 o’clock when the porters and their burdens, anxious, exhausted and disheartened, halted after an acrobatic descent of a slippery chimney down which somehow or other we had managed to come.

Lachenal and myself were placed under shelter; the others judged that we were in no fit state to go any further that night. Terray decided to stay with us, while Couzy, Ichac and Oudot went off rapidly towards the camp. They had only just left us when they met Sarki and Phutharkay coming up – with nothing but a flask of coffee by way of supplies! They sent Sarki on up to us and took Phutharkay back with them to the tents, which they reached after an hour. They told Schatz and Noyelle that it was not possible to carry the two casualties over such dangerous ground at night, and described our wretched bivouac. Immediately Schatz offered to take us up food and equipment, and Dawathondup went with him. In our shelter the situation was not ideal, in spite of Terray’s efforts to cheer things up. Lachenal was still under the influence of morphia, but I was furious that we had failed to reach the camp, which I knew to be so near.

When we were no longer expecting anyone, Schatz arrived; water streamed down his face as he raised his startled eyes to mine, and with a little smile announced triumphantly that he had brought up sleeping-bags, warm clothing and food. What more did we need? Soon a petrol primus was roaring away. None of us had eaten since the morning and the smell of the open tins of food made Terray’s mouth water. Meanwhile Dawathondup had inflated the mattresses and, though the food did not tempt me, I enjoyed the comfort of a mattress. All night long it rained and I could not sleep. Deathly cold, my teeth chattering, I was haunted by anxiety and a shameful fear.

In the morning the weather improved. The formation of the clouds had changed, and they now tended to creep along the walls, and move upwards. When this happens in Chamonix it means fine weather. Getting back into my wicker basket was unpleasant. Lachenal, too, found little pleasure in returning to his
cacolet
. We were in a hurry to reach the camp and every few minutes I kept asking:

‘Are we there?’

I always got the same answer, as though I were a child:

‘Five minutes more!’

At last we saw the yellow roofs of the tents at the far end of a small flat space. The sky was clear when we reached the camp where Ichac, Noyelle and Oudot welcomed us. We were not yet at the end of our troubles; the bridge which Schatz had built would not hold out until the evening: already it was only a foot above the water, and would in any case have to be reinforced before the loads and the casualties could be taken across. None of the coolies would volunteer to carry us over, and even the Sherpas thought it dangerous. Finally Ajeeba made up his mind, and the others stood by to help him, at the start and at the finish. From my tent I heard Lachenal being taken across, then Ajeeba returned, I was hoisted on his back, and with a firm step he went towards the bridge. This consisted simply of four or five tree-trunks lashed together with liana and fixed somehow or other to either bank; the river went swirling by beneath, only just clearing the bridge, and spray wet the porters’ feet, making them liable to slip. The feeling of helplessness was awful, I wanted to shut my eyes. But I had to look, and though he carried me with great care I whispered in Ajeeba’s ear:

‘
Slowly
, Ajeeba!’

Would he be able to keep his balance on this rickety, slippery foot-bridge? Oudot, who was watching the operation, tried not to show his anxiety; his expressionless smile was intended to be encouraging. The moment we set foot on the bridge I could feel the precariousness of our situation. Ajeeba calculated his moves and put each foot forward gingerly.

‘
Slowly
, Ajeeba!’

The water raced by, forming eddies which made me dizzy to look at. The Sherpas on the other side were not far off now. I was afraid
that
my bearer would quicken his steps as we approached terra-firma. Again I murmured:

‘
Slowly
, Ajeeba!’

A few inches more – and then helping hands brought us safely to the bank. I heaved a deep sigh of relief, but at the same time felt a strong desire to cry: the inevitable nervous reaction after such an ordeal. Ajeeba took me at once into a tent and settled me there while the rest of the party hastily crossed the river, which was rising visibly. The coolies queued up to cross, and two hours later everything had been taken over. The expedition would not be trapped in the Annapurna massif, though by the following morning the bridge would have gone – swept away by the rushing torrent.

Oudot began to examine us at once; he feared that the cold and damp of the previous night would have caused a deterioration in our condition. Lachenal’s feet were very swollen and the improvement of the last few days was arrested. As for me, it was mainly my right hand which had suffered from our unfortunate bivouac. Oudot had assured me that the damage would not go beyond the end joints of my fingers. Now he said that at least two joints would have to go. All these emotions tried me sorely.

We all gathered together in one tent for lunch. Schatz, who the day before had gone off to reconnoitre the Miristi gorges, told us that there was not the slightest chance of our being able to follow these gorges direct to Baglung and the Gandaki Valley. This route would have avoided a long détour, but it was quite impracticable: gigantic walls fell sheer to the river’s edge over a distance of several miles, so that almost immediately we should have been forced to climb up out of the gorge to the ridges above – in other words to take the same route by which we had come on April 27th.

We decided to dispatch Pansy as a special messenger to New Delhi to send off the telegrams we had written a few days ago.

I took little part in the conversation. When my attention was not needed I preferred to doze and not to think about the present. My strength was ebbing and I dreaded the next stages of the march. After examining me once again Oudot did not hide the fact that it was difficult, in view of the extensiveness of my injuries, to foretell the course things would take. With half-closed eyes I heard him explaining to Ichac how dry gangrene can turn into gas gangrene
which
necessitates immediate and extensive amputation. Ichac shuddered when Oudot told him that the toxins spreading from the affected parts to the living tissue become diffused over the whole body and produce general septicaemia. Or sometimes it concentrated in one organ, the liver for example, particularly after antibiotic injections such as penicillin.

Meanwhile Terray was adroitly constructing a chair in the shape of a hook, like those used for carrying in the Alps. He made it out of sticks fastened together with wire – it would enable the legs to be supported at the same level as the rest of the body, thus avoiding the wounded man’s principal cause of suffering. The Sherpas copied Terray’s model for me. The rain drummed ceaselessly on the tents, almost making us wonder whether the canvas would give way beneath the enormous bullet-like drops.

After a bad night I woke slowly and was told that the weather had improved. If only it would keep fine till evening! Today, they told me, we should have to go up from 12,000 to 15,000 feet over extremely steep slopes without any hope of a bivouac site before the Pass of April 27th. At all events the chairs were satisfactory. Thanks to Terray’s ingenuity both Lachenal and I were slightly less apprehensive about the next stages of our journey.

The coolies climbed up steadily, although there was no track and sometimes steps had to be cut in the earth, so steep was the slope. Noiselessly as ghosts, they laboured heroically through the mist to complete the allotted stage before nightfall. Shadows appeared and disappeared, outlines faded into the mist. This retreat would have seemed like a dream, and the men mere phantoms, had it not been for the jolting of my chair, which caused pain in every part of my body. I tried my best to keep drowsy and semi-conscious, and envied Lachenal who managed to go to sleep on the back of his porter.

A little before noon the main contingent had ascended the grassy gullies and reached the C.A.F. shoulder – the point at which Schatz had left a Club Alpin Français pennant on the way up. The coolies wanted to camp here, saying that higher up there would be no better site, but Ichac and Oudot turned deaf ears to this suggestion. They sent the casualties ahead and themselves walked with the Sherpas; the coolies were obliged to follow. The long, long traverse across to the Pass of April 27th had begun.

Visibility was down to ten yards, and the porters walked in single file. They kept warm while they were moving with their loads, but as soon as they stopped their teeth began to chatter; their only clothing was a small blanket. I tried to adjust myself to the swaying rhythm of my bearer, but he continually upset my calculations by hesitating, taking a longer or a shorter step, or, in certain awkward places, striding sideways. I could not stop trying to stretch out my arms in an endeavour to hold back or help on, or with the idea of protecting myself. Far away in the depths of its infernal gorges I heard the roar of the Miristi.

At the end of the afternoon we came upon the site of a shepherds’ camp, the only one before the pass, which there was obviously no question of our reaching that evening. Prudence demanded that we should remain where we were for the night, and all that I asked was to be put down in a tent where I could lie still.

Dawn was sullen and we left in pouring rain, with visibility less than twenty yards. Today we had to continue the flanking movement and cross a whole series of streams, which would be no easy matter. It was a sad day for me. I felt quite definitely that my condition was getting worse: I was aware that I had no reserves and I was profoundly disheartened.

For some time Schatz had been trying to encourage me with the assurance that the ridge was not now very far off. There came a shout of triumph, but although Ichac was only a few yards away I could barely hear him:

‘Maurice, you’re on the Krishna side now!’

I was not particularly elated, although it was an important moment. As I passed in front of Ichac I saw him shooting with his cine-camera. It struck me as a crazy proceeding – surely it would not come out – there was no light, and this, as he had often enough told me himself, is essential for colour film.

We began to descend gradually to the pass. At each step the porters let themselves slide down the slope, feet foremost, and the violent jerking caused me unbearable pain. It was raining harder than ever. In the mist we tried to find the camp site, and while the others went on looking, the porters continued down to a gap marked by a
chorten
. I could not understand what was happening: it had been understood that we should stop at the pass. Those on ahead, forgetting about the others, no doubt thought that we should
have
time to reach the edge of the forest, which was more than two hours away. I protested. To go on was madness, and, moreover, I just did not feel capable of standing another couple of hours of this torture. I had no strength left and was ready to give up the ghost. I implored Ichac to stop everyone and go up again to the site which we had passed. Very unwillingly, those in front retraced their steps, while the Sherpas pitched the tents on the soaking ground.

We had now come to the last really hard day: we should have to descend for some 6000 feet to the Chadziou Khola and the shepherds’ camping ground. How would all the porters manage, especially those who would have to carry the two casualties across the terribly steep slopes on this part of the route?

Right at the beginning, on leaving the gap marked with a
chorten
, one of the coolies slipped and rolled down for fifty yards or so. We feared he would disappear into the river 6000 feet below but he clung on and brought himself to a stop; for a moment he lay stretched out on the ground. The sack he had been carrying went bowling down the slope as well as a container, which burst open. The sack bounced, described a fine curve and disappeared into space. The man was only dazed; he picked himself up and came back towards us. He was a Tibetan from Tukucha, and one of the few who had consented to wear expedition boots!

I heard a frightful yell. I could not see what was happening, but I could guess from the shouts: a huge stone had fallen above Lachenal in the couloir. Terray succeeded in diverting it from its course, but the rock had hit Lachenal’s bearer. The man fell without being able to protect himself; his arms were caught in his
cagoule
, and the block hit him on the nose. His face was covered with blood and he had an enormous bruise.

Ichac, Rébuffat and Schatz went down the great grass couloir, the haunt of the marmots discovered by Rébuffat on the way up. They stopped at the first trees while the rest of the party came carefully down in their turn. To find out the owner of the sack that had fallen into the Chadziou Khola, they decided to check the loads as they were carried past on the porters’ backs.