Annapurna (6 page)

‘You’ll rest in camp. Don’t worry, there’ll be something for everyone to do. It’s now April 23rd, we’ve time enough before the monsoon breaks, early in June. You, too, Lionel, try to keep warm.’

‘And stick to light food for the present,’ advised Oudot.

Terray, who had been suffering from a stomach upset, was feeling a bit better already, but I still thought he looked very pulled down.

‘And I suppose I’m to twiddle my thumbs?’ asked Noyelle.

‘Your excellency will be good enough to make contact with the big-wigs. And you and Coucou can finish organizing the camp.’

We were awake at 5
A.M
. Lachenal and Rébuffat went off with two Sherpas, carrying skis and one high-altitude unit. This consisted of a nylon tent for two, two special sleeping-bags, two half-length air mattresses, a spirit stove and cooking utensils; the whole weighing roughly 22 lb. A shikari would guide them over the lower slopes of the mountain where otherwise they might well lose time in the valleys and forests.

Oudot and Schatz were up and about, and their horses were ready at 7 o’clock. I hoped that during the day they would be able to go high enough to see the famous Tilicho Pass and clear up the mystery about it. Then Ichac and I left camp, delighted at the thought of being in the mountains once more. In a few minutes we came to the Dambush Khola, whose valley we were to follow as high as possible.

‘Certainly this stream’s on the small side,’ I conceded.

‘I don’t want to influence your judgment, Maurice, but to me it’s practically a certainty: the drainage from the northern slopes of Dhaulagiri doesn’t flow this way. There must be a valley on the other side. It follows that we must be separated from the north face by a ridge.’

‘We’ll soon see.’

Our route took us through a wonderful stretch of thick jungle. We were greeted by the first rays of the sun, and at this early hour a delicate scent rose from some pink flowers, and some recently felled fir trees gave out the familiar smell of resin. It was already pleasantly warm. Jumping from boulder to boulder, climbing the rocks that barred our path, scrambling over precariously balanced obstacles at the risk of falling into the stream, we rapidly gained height.

THE RIDGES OF DHAULAGIRI
–
These sketch maps show the fundamental differences between the map of the Indian Survey, above, and the true lay-out, on the right. Tukucha had been chosen as our base on account of its proximity both to the Elbow Valley, which appeared to give access to the north face of Dhaulagiri, and to the east face, where a small glacier lies wedged between the north-east and the south-east ridges As Dhaulagiri has no true north ridge, we were accustomed to call the north-east ridge (which joins Dhaulagiri to the Tukucha Peak) by this name
.

‘The first snow!’ shouted Ichac happily.

‘More at home on this sort of ground, eh Matha?’

‘What contrasts there are here, and how different from the Alps! Here it’s only a step from jungle to snow.’

By keeping to the cliffs on the true left of the valley we hoped to get some enlightening glimpses of the north face, and even perhaps a proper view. We had great hopes of this side, since we were aware that in the Himalaya north faces, for many reasons of geology and weather, often offer the least steep and least difficult means of access.

For some time we had been keeping along by the cliffs.

‘It’s like the Cirque de Gavarnie, only on a much larger scale,’ remarked Ichac.

The Tukucha Peak, a ‘seven-thousander’, completely blocked the view with its grand and terrifying walls. All round us cascades spouted from the rocks, and banks of rotten snow clung desperately to the flanks of the mountain. It was the end of winter.

Who knows the secret of the renewal of life in such places? From beneath the snow as it melted and slid off, the vegetation appeared, stunted, twisted and flattened. Birds and insects were migrating to heights which once again could nourish them.

‘Another few weeks and summer will be here.’

‘The Expedition’s arrived at just the right moment, don’t you think?’

Ichac took some bearings. The altimeter registered 11,000 feet. ‘North Nilgiris 111° east. Tukucha Peak 270° west … This map is wrong! It’s quite obvious. The great Dambush Khola
cirque
is contained on the north by a ridge coming from the Tukucha Peak. At the foot of Dhaulagiri on the north side there is another basin, that’s all. But if we’ve got to cross the ridge to get to that basin before tackling the north face, then we’ll still be here next year!’

I was beginning to be shaken, but we had to leave it at that if we were to reach camp that same evening. We made some long glissades down the snow, stopped to take a few pictures and pick up some stones for the geologists, and at 4.30, sunburnt and happy, were sipping wonderful tea with milk back in camp at Tukucha.

‘What, didn’t you even
see
Dhaulagiri?’

The others were astonished. No doubt they had been expecting a 1:20,000 map in relief, and coloured too, upon our return from the outing.

‘You must never expect too much from a reconnaissance. Everything’s on such a huge scale. It’s bound to take days and days of marching to get a view of the north face, even from a distance …’

‘No post?’ asked Ichac.

‘Nothing,’ replied Noyelle; ‘I’ve spoken to G. B. and he is making inquiries.’

‘What about Annapurna? Have you seen it?’ I asked Oudot and Schatz who had just come back.

‘Only the very top part.’

‘Ah, at last!’

‘The little we saw looked all right. I think it impressed us favourably, didn’t it, Oudot? Getting there, however, is quite another matter, and I’m afraid it’s going to be a bit of a puzzle. But of course we only had a very distant view.’

‘We were just able to pick out, above the gorges of the Miristi, a sort of depression which on this side looked possible. The other side is an unknown factor. We’d have to get a much closer view to be able to say anything.’

‘You ’re right, we’ll have to get a much clearer idea of it,’ I said to Oudot. ‘As soon as you’re rested, you can go off again, this time for several days.’

For the moment we were completely in the dark. We discussed it all endlessly, but this didn’t increase our knowledge by one iota.

‘Hi, Maurice! Here’s the boss!’

Noyelle came in with G. B. and a gentleman of forty or so, well-dressed, and wearing boots. He had fine drooping moustaches, and looked intelligent. It was the Suba, the head man of the district. There were Hindu greetings on both sides.

‘
He
comes from Tinigaon,’ our friend G. B. informed me with emphasis, pointing to a native who had held back until then. ‘He’s a friend of the Great Man.’

A searching interrogation began, for the man was a shikari who claimed to be perfectly well acquainted with the Tilicho Pass. We had to take him to look at our map.

‘Tilicho Pass, at the foot of Annapurna? No? There. What?’

‘But it’s not possible –
north
of the Nilgiris? And not
south
? Isn’t it along the Miristi?’

He must be muddling it up with another pass – the Thorungse, above Muktinath.

‘No, look, he says no.’

‘Let’s see, it’s most important. If the Tilicho Pass is to the
north
of the Nilgiris we should have to cross them to get to Annapurna, which would be impossible, or else make a big détour to the north.’

‘Can he take us to the Tilicho Pass? Two days’ march? Why, then, that alters everything. We’ll soon see when we get there.’

‘In point of fact, on the map there
is
a star marking a col to the north of the Nilgiris.’

‘Look! The Tilicho Pass is clearly marked all the same between the Nilgiris and Annapurna. Perhaps the surveyors have made a mistake about the name? There must be a pass there all the same. Ask this chap from Tinigaon if there is a way between Dana and Manangbhot.’

‘He’s never heard of one.’

What
were
we to believe? There was only one thing to do – go and see the Tilicho of the man from Tinigaon. But this was all part of the exploration of Annapurna, and would be for later on. For the moment we were concerned with Dhaulagiri.

Next day Lachenal and Rébuffat returned, in high spirits. Their guide had taken them well to the right of the East Dhaulagiri glacier, practically underneath the Tukucha Peak.

‘The shikari is a great chap,’ said Lachenal, himself a good judge of a guide.

‘That’s useful to know for the future. Well, what about this glacier?’

Rébuffat explained the position.

‘We went up to about the same height as Mont Blanc, after bivouacking at around 13,000 feet. The East glacier’s just a great torrent of ice. All the same it should be possible to get up it, but it wouldn’t be plain sailing.’

‘Even supposing we did succeed in getting up the glacier,’ continued Lachenal, ‘I don’t quite see how we should get on to the north ridge. My own view is that we shouldn’t try. It’s a regular Walker
⁴
with seracs stuck on!’

‘It might be easier to get on the ridge from further south,’ went on Rébuffat. ‘The ridge itself doesn’t look all that bad, seen from below. It’s long of course but not very steep. We could see some ice towers through our field-glasses – but nothing unclimbable.’

‘Anyway we were quite at sea over the scale of everything. It’s all far bigger than we had supposed.’

Clearly this demanded something beyond Alpine technique. A series of well-placed camps was called for, and individual initiative must give way to collective effort. Lachenal and Rébuffat were beginning to realize just what Himalayan climbing is and what it requires – a team. While they hungrily devoured bully beef
à la vinaigrette
, we talked over the situation.

It wasn’t at all encouraging. But these preliminary reconnaissances had been the means of our making contact with the real Himalaya, and getting to the heart of the sort of problems they set. There was no question of solving them in forty-eight hours. Only now could we begin to make a serious attack on our objectives. While Couzy, Oudot and Schatz were examining possible approaches to Annapurna by the Miristi Khola, Ichac, Terray and I were going to explore the north face of Dhaulagiri and the approach to it from the Dambush Khola.

At dawn on April 26th the two parties left for several days’ reconnaissance – our lot accompanied by Sherpas carrying high-altitude units and skis. Lachenal’s and Rébuffat’s shikari guided us as far as the first névés which was as far as he had ever got. After a quick meal we sent him down again. The heat was overpowering; the snow became like soup; we put on our skis so as not to sink in too much. For the Sherpas, who went in up to their waists, it was a horrible ascent.

Five o’clock! The Sherpas, all except Angtharkay, were going down again; it was time to pitch camp. We couldn’t take off our special glasses – the glare was too powerful for our tired eyes. The light which poured down the immense north face of the Tukucha Peak overwhelmed us. This was our first night at high altitude. The tents were minute: we called them ‘coffins’, and had to crawl in and out, but they only weighed 2½ lb., for they were made of nylon and duralumin, and could be carried at the bottom of a rucksack. Lying on our stomachs on our air-mattresses, tucked in our sleeping-bags, Ichac, Terray and I did the so-called cooking. We had to be careful not to make any sudden movement, for every inch was limited. Your morale needs to be good to cope with so oppressively restricted a world.

The next day Terray set a rapid pace from the start. Perhaps he wanted to make up for having been ill. His upset had so weakened him that he had been able to walk only with considerable effort, but now it was as much as we could do to follow him. The slope was steep, at the maximum angle on which our sealskins would hold, and we were sometimes obliged to push with our sticks. The sun was already directly overhead. The ground became more difficult, and we stuck our skis upright in the snow, so as to be able to spot them on the way down. The height, which was about the same as that of Mont Blanc, was making us tired. In spite of a gnawing hunger we went on until we reached a little plateau. Terray was making heavy weather of it: had he over-estimated his returning strength? Anyway he had to summon up every ounce of energy to reach that plateau. He let himself fall heavily on to the snow.