Dawn of Steam: Gods of the Sun (40 page)

April 28th, 1817

27º59' N 86º55' E

We saw the sun today.

This part of the climb was easier than we might have feared. The snow made gaining footholds far easier than sheer ice would have, which seemed to be a considerable concern to our guides. For much of the day, they seemed more concerned about avalanche than finding the next step. By no means can I suggest the way was easy. I had to be virtually pulled up much of the last third of the climb for numbness in my shoulder and fatigue, lending only the most rudimentary of aid. Still, the others consider my single and unique contribution sufficient that they put the effort forth and would not permit me to turn back so I did not slow them down.

Several times we had to pause to ensure that members of our crew were able to focus and respond clearly before we went on. Despite the risk of falling ice and snow, loss of concentration while climbing is deemed far worse by the experienced among our number.

Reaching the top of the expanse was a wonder greater than I can find words for. The clouds cleared with the day, with us above them, finally exposed to the sunlight once again. As cold as it certainly is here, the direct light helps me, at least, feel as if it is quite a bit warmer than it is, which is a true pleasure after the chill of the lower reaches, under the clouds and shadows.

After taking a time to try to recover our breath, a truly difficult feat here, we moved on to Dr. Bowe's final camp, which is less maintained than the other. The Shar Khombo have not ventured beyond this point, with the area ahead being one which they hold in awe. What may lie beyond is only stories. The only reason they ever brave the wall at all is to keep this camp, and to honor the Shar Khombo of their families who guided Dr. Bowe to this point. This is also where Dr. Bowe, in his three trips through this region, described losing several of his guides, and almost losing his own life.

As always, we climbed some way further, after we had rested, and then descended back to the beginnings of this expanse of spirits. The Shar Khombo spent the rest of the day in almost silent prayer and entreaties to their spirits to grant them good fortune in the attempt to conquer the peak, and to survive through tomorrow. They say that here they are very close to their spirits, and we must be most quiet and respectful here if we are to have any chance at all of succeeding.

It has taken hours to put even this much to page, and I do not think I am the worst off of our number. Sir James reads the instructions he and his sister laid out over and over again to keep himself focused. Two of the guides do not seem certain at all they wish to proceed. Eddy has been suffering from what appears to be the worst of the headaches yet, for I have seen him suffer through terrible injuries while fighting to get back to work and activity as quickly as possible, but he has been at rest ever since it was permitted. Even Miss Bowe, Goba, and Dorje seem greatly affected by this height.

We are also bracing for the night to get terribly cold, doing everything we can to protect ourselves. There is no sign that the winds should get significantly worse, but we are trying to prepare even so. In part, I think all of the preparation and whispered discussion is as much to force our minds to remain active, focusing coherent thought as much as we can.

For all the difficulty, the peak, however distant it appears, is not so far away now. We will be here one more day now, scouting what lies ahead and getting as used to this region as much as we can, for the next true push will be to reach the peak – or to turn back. With such conditions and difficulties as we are having here, we dare not camp at any higher reach.

We will be affixing our ropes where we can, and preparing all of the ice axes and any other climbing aids during this day. The risk of ice and avalanche here is so great that the Shar Khombo are insistent that climbing in darkness will be less dangerous than climbing after the day warms under the direct light of the sun.

It is difficult to think too hard on the matter, and conversation beyond simple speech is hard enough that I have not yet asked Miss Bowe why Dr. Bowe's camp has only Spanish and Dutch flags of some significant age, not an English flag among them. Sir James has one of his own among his gear, which will be left here if we do not reach the peak.

From the journals of Gregory Conan Watts,

April 29th, 1817

27º59' N 86º55' E

The day has been a disaster. We lost one of our guides in exploration of the area before us. His fall was so steep that the others did not dare try to go after him, even as courageous as they are. His soul, they say, will join the spirits here and perhaps serve as a caution to climbers to come. Though they mourn, and one of them has turned back, the remaining Shar Khombo are insistent upon trying to continue, both for the feat itself, and to honor their fallen comrade. I admire their spirit, but certainly worry for our own future. At the very least, this terrible fear has brought some clarity to all of our tortured minds.

One way or another, tomorrow will be the end of it. We must descend back to the bottom of the wall below us then, or we may never recover at all from the rigors and torments of this place. There will be no further attempts this year after any time needed for recovery, either, for June will be too warm for the mountain to be navigable at all.

Sir James has still been going through his plans, and even shuffling through our final pieces of gear and ropes is a labored effort. We are certain that whoever makes it through this next portion, they will have to have considerable assistance from the very few of our number who do not seem as affected by this place as the rest. Even the Shar Khombo suffer from the nearly debilitating headaches and constant fatigue of the place, needing frequent rest. Only a heroic effort and will keeps us moving at all, and the climb down now seems as if it will be even more difficult than the climb upward.

As it is, I have taken almost all of the time from rest until darkness to put this much to page. And very soon, we will be awakened in the middle of the night to make our final attempt.

From the journals of Gregory Conan Watts,

May 2nd, 1817

27º59' N 86º55' E

Victory at last!

By the time we were awakened, we had found some new surge of energy, fueled by the excitement of making this great effort. We had to be constantly on our guard, and through much of the trip, most of us had to be helped along by our fellows. Sir James alternated at times between being one of the helpers, while at other times he needed to be almost pulled along. The moon seemed to almost be below us now as we climbed. It did provide much needed illumination, though also a great sense of dizziness at the impossible perspective of it.

The climb seemed endless. No one spoke save harsh, whispered instructions from the guides, and even those were rare, for conserving every bit of breath seemed entirely critical. For much of the climb, I was almost a dead weight, being pulled upward by whoever of our company found strength and stamina enough to make the effort on my behalf. I carried only the gear on my person: crampons, axes and the very minimal necessities, for even the thick wrapping clothing seemed an impossible weight. By the time we saw sunlight, my arm had gone entirely numb, moving only with the greatest of effort. I do not know how I kept going or how the others found it in themselves to not only haul themselves upwards, but get me to the top as well.

Most of the way was steep, requiring continuous climbing, with only short stretches of walking through thigh-deep snow allowing for any rest, if that can be imagined as rest. As much as we were in desperate need of rest and air, we had to keep going, constantly moving, or we might never begin again and likely never come down from that great height.

Just before the top, with the peak in view, there was a small plateau. It seemed almost victory in itself to reach it after the constant effort of the climb, and all of our guides but Dorje and Goba stopped there with exhaustion. I would have done so as well, but once I took some pictures of the great stretches of Nepal below, Eddy and Sir James tugged at me and gestured that we were going on. The short stop did not feel at all like rest, just a struggle for air, with only how striking the view was – and the need to constantly move to avoid the grip of the worst of the cold – providing any impressions of thought. I could hear Sir James whispering to himself over and over the precise plans laid out for this final stretch, done entirely by view from below and climbing advice, for we were going on nothing but our own energy there.

After the plateau there was a short, but absolutely sheer wall of ice and frozen rock, with sharp edges that cut through gloves and threatened to cut the ropes as well. Miss Bowe, Dorje, and Goba progressed first, forced to free-climb the expanse to secure ropes, for trying to toss any kind of grapnel here brought far too much risk of rock fall. Though the memories blur, I have impressions of their seeming to take forever to test each hand and foothold, securing their crampons as much as they were able to without kicking too forcefully and bringing the mountain down on the rest of us. I do not think, looking back now, that this stretch went for more than 100 meters, but at the time it seemed impossible, even as far as we had already come.

Sir James would not be defeated, however, having come so close. By near the end, I believe our two most intrepid guides and Miss Bowe were pulling most of us up. Sir James and Eddy helped as much as they were able to with numb hands and blurry minds, while I believe at that point I was more or less literally dragged up the flat expanse. We reached an expanse, finally, of wide snow at a steep angle, but not nearly so bad as the climb. I recall that the snow formations seemed almost like waves on the ocean. When we had reached this point, after a few more short climbs, Miss Bowe took the lead, offered by the brothers, and reached the peak followed shortly by that pair. Eddy and Sir James followed, with the three at the top now helping pull us all along.

We took only a short time to marvel at the view, for at last, there was no more next ridge, and then the next, but only a view one way out into the marvels of Tibet, partially shrouded by clouds, and the other way, back the way we had come. I took what pictures I could be prompted to take before I needed to rewrap my hands too thickly to work the camera. I had difficulty bundling it back into the device used to warm it. Sir James planted the flag of England there while the Shar Khombo marked the site with some sort of religious idols. I left behind the metal plaque bearing the name of my dear Cordelia, and then we made ready to finally descend.

My recollections of the descent are even vaguer. I am certain that Miss Bowe and our guides were most careful in making our way down. We rejoined one of the other Shar Khombo who could not bring himself to continue upward somewhere along the way, and he seemed somewhat more collected than the rest of us after having some time to rest and wait for our return.

For all the caution, I have impressions of haste, trying to make our way to a lower altitude where we might better recover. Our ropes were still in place, making the trip down easier than the times that our best had to free climb upward to secure the ropes the first time through. We avoided disaster as much by divine providence as our own skill, for I do not think most of us had the sense to avoid any dangers save those we had drilled most into our minds. I know that they had to lower me down on ropes repeatedly throughout the process.

We returned at the end of the day to Dr. Bowe's upper camp after a final desperate push to reach it down the icy expanse. By then, I think some fear that we might do ourselves some permanent harm pushed the group on as much as anything else. Simple thoughts and drives were certainly the order of the day. There, I slowly came to some kind of realization of myself and the conditions around me. I could not move for the headache, and the cracking of the ice seemed to echo in my skull. Only comparison to the higher reaches made the air seem even breathable. Certainly it was a remarkable experience, perhaps unlike that anyone else has ever experienced before us. The view has to be unique upon all of the Earth. Despite this, it is one I never wish to attempt again.

The next day we continued on to the camp held by Miss Penn, Mr. Heller, and the last of our guides. The Shar Khombo exchanged news, and we rested again. It is only now, the morning after that descent, that I have found it in myself again to attempt writing, trying to recall as much detail as I can of our trip upward, including asking everyone else around about it to help improve my memories. While on one hand, it seems unfortunate that I should remember such an event and wonder so hazily, in another fashion, this surreal quality to my memories of the events makes it seem all the more of a miracle.

From the journals of James Coltrane, (Translated from the Latin)

May 3rd, 1817

"Victorious warriors win first, and then go to war, while defeated warriors go to war first, and then seek to win." – Sun Tzu

“The only reason a warrior is alive is to fight, and the only reason a warrior fights is to win.” -- Miyamoto Musashi

While encountering the struggles in the East, these points from their philosophies have been my guideposts. Gregory sought to teach me to use the camera and turn back, but under those circumstances, I couldn't have learned its ways, and ascending the peak with no record of it would not be the same victory. Besides, he brought me out of the darkest place in my life. It seemed only right I repay him by showing him the heights of what we could achieve.