Keeper Of The Mountains (16 page)

It took some time and negotiating, but by April he was free. What did he do? He created the Yak and Yeti Hotel. But Boris was not a businessman. All his businesses were financial failures. Prince Basundhara had bankrolled the Royal Hotel, and it was the prince who found an Indian investor, as well as the World Bank, for the Yak and Yeti. Boris hired architects and designers to realize his vision, and for a while it looked promising. But he eventually fell out with his major investor and was not even present when the hotel opened.

Boris then opened a series of failing restaurants. Many said they were unsuccessful because his middle son had his hand in the till to feed his drug habit. Boris once confided to Elizabeth, “Look at my
three sons. One's a nymphomaniac, one's a kleptomaniac and one's a dipsomaniac.” Elizabeth was inclined to agree, but blamed their upbringing. They grew up in the upstairs apartments of the Royal Hotel and were raised by a woman she described as an “ignorant, superstitious, illiterate, fat Newari nurse” who had no control over the boys.

Boris himself was tremendous company and a great entertainer. In his apartment was a huge living room, often full of fabulous guests: Agatha Christie, Freya Stark, movie stars, politicians, climbers and royalty. Sir Edmund was impressed and amused by Elizabeth's eclectic friends. “No question, she really liked people who were interesting, who had done things, who were not stuffy … she liked the unusual.” She relished the friendships she made with these quirky characters, as well as her acquaintances with the more established and important members of the community. Although she was friendly with several royals, Sir Edmund recalled that those closest to her were not the “most respected members of the royal family.” They were a little on the outside of the circle of power, and he doubted she had much to do with the king and queen themselves. Hillary never understood her friendship with Barbara Adams, though. He saw Barbara as a “real character, although … not one that fit into Liz Hawley's sort of ideas.” Many saw Adams as Elizabeth's polar opposite: she was flamboyant, outgoing and outrageous. Nevertheless, the two were close friends for a long time. They even went on an adventurous train trip across Russia together, something that was regarded as quite a challenge in those days and something Hillary suspected they endured rather than enjoyed.

Two decades after Hillary's ascent of Everest, climbers were already contriving various stunts, hoping to be remembered in the history of the highest mountain. The mountaineering world was amused in 1970 when the Japanese skier Yuichiro Miura attempted to ski down Everest. A film titled
The Man Who Skied Down Everest
was made, but according to Elizabeth he did nothing of the sort. “He didn't ski down Everest. He didn't start at the top, and he damned near killed himself skidding to a lucky halt just before a gaping crevasse at the start of the icefall.”

At the same time, a climb of real significance was taking place on the great South Face of Annapurna. Chris Bonington put together a strong team: British climbers Don Whillans, Martin Boysen, Mick
Burke, Dougal Haston and Nick Estcourt, as well as American Tom Frost. They struggled and pushed their way through a dangerous, technical route (and some difficult interpersonal wrangling), finally placing a potential summit pair – Haston and Whillans – in place. High on the mountain they endured screaming winds and extreme cold, but they kept going. With a superhuman effort, they reached the top at 2:30 p.m. on May 27, 1970. It was a great mountaineering story, marred by the death of Ian Clough, who was killed by falling ice as the team was leaving the mountain. Reports of the expedition reverberated in the mountaineering world and throughout Britain. Elizabeth, a relatively neophyte reporter on mountaineering matters at that time, understood the significance of this climb – a fundamental shift from the Himalayan ridges onto the more difficult and dangerous faces – and reported it accordingly.

One year later, in 1971, the disastrous International Himalayan Expedition came to Everest. Elizabeth was involved with the team, in charge of their communications with the outside world. In return for this work, she was given their exclusive reports, which she sent directly to Reuters.

The expedition was something of an experiment in understanding and cooperation among nations. There were representatives from 13 countries, plus a
BBC
film crew of nine and an Australian journalist, bringing the total to 30. It was co-led by Norman Dyhrenfurth and Colonel Jimmy Roberts. Their approach was two-pronged: one team would attempt the Southwest Face and the other would ascend the West Ridge along its entire length. But relationships came unravelled, with expedition members refusing to carry loads, leaving the mountain or trying to change objectives to the South Col route, while Dyhrenfurth remained adamant that it was the Southwest Face route they needed to climb. An Indian member of the expedition was killed early on during the ascent of the Southwest Face, a tragic event that added momentum to the resistance. Two Swiss, one Italian and one French climber quit early – referred to by Dyhrenfurth as “the revolt of the Latins.” The Frenchman, Pierre Mazeaud, said to Elizabeth, “I will not be a Sherpa for the Anglo-Saxons” (the Anglo-Saxons being the Americans and Japanese). Elizabeth's wry comment was, “That's the first time I ever heard of a Japanese described as an Anglo-Saxon.” He continued at a press conference, “It is not only I, Pierre Mazeaud,
a member of the Chamber of Deputies, who has been insulted, but is La France!”

Eventually, Elizabeth's private opinion of the group turned to scorn, not just for the leader, Norman Dyhrenfurth, but for members of the team as well. “It was a shame that Norman didn't choose his team much more carefully and get them still in their primes and without such enormous egos,” she commented.

Dyhrenfurth defended the team and his leadership and, although he did a certain amount of finger-pointing (particularly at the Latins), tried to take the high road and examine why individual priorities and objectives changed during the course of the difficult climb. There are some who said that the harsh criticism from Elizabeth was somewhat opportunistic and that her commentary would have been completely the opposite had the expedition succeeded. But she defends herself, saying she never printed anything other than the facts. “And if the facts tell the story, then so be it!”

Elizabeth herself was getting an international reputation. The
Bangkok World
wrote a flattering piece about her in August 1970 titled “She Wears Two Hats.” And the
Kuala Lumpur Straits Times
headlined an article about her with “A Hippie Though She Does Not Look Like It.” During a visit with her parents in California in 1973, Elizabeth did an interview in their home with the
San Jose Mercury News
. The questions for this “Socially Yours” column indicate a reporter with no real knowledge of Nepal but a great deal of curiosity for Elizabeth. She was asked the usual questions about why she went to Nepal, why she stayed and how she made a living. Showing her journalistic savvy of what readers of such a column might like to know, Elizabeth answered with some quaint anecdotes and exotic images. In describing her various “hats,” one of which was Tiger Tops, she explained, “It's the only airport in the world where the passengers are met by elephants.” On her work with mountaineering expeditions: “They rely upon me if they need something such as a rescue aircraft.…” And on Hillary's Himalayan Trust, the reporter wrote, “We sensed her enthusiasm for its founder, Sir Edmund Hillary, conqueror of Mount Everest.…” Elizabeth made sure they understood his contribution. “He is one man who has taken something out of a country and is giving something back.” She went on to describe him: “Sir Edmund is a casual, genial, friendly sort of person, but he is no puppy
dog wagging his tail. He knows where he is going. He is the guiding light of the Himalayan Trust, whose purpose is to help the people of Nepal.” Asked about her social life, she explained that a lot of her friends were foreigners, but she was also close to several members of the Rana family, which had ruled Nepal for more than a hundred years. She described the social whirl of cocktail and dinner parties and tried to give readers some understanding of life without television. It was a feature article with a large photo of a smiling Elizabeth reclining on her mother's sofa.

But the reality of Elizabeth's life in Nepal was a little less romantic. By the end of 1971 most flights into and out of Nepal had ceased. The country was more or less cut off due to the conflict between India and Pakistan. Virtually everything came into Nepal through India, but India's preoccupation with the war meant that Nepal was a low priority. Banks in Nepal no longer accepted foreign cheques; the mail and newspapers arrived only erratically and gasoline shortages were common. The tourism industry temporarily ground to a halt.

Then Nepal was stunned in January 1972 when King Mahendra, at the age of fifty-one, had a heart attack and died less than twenty-four hours later. It happened while on a hunting expedition, his greatest passion. Mahendra's sudden disappearance from public life affected everyone, as there was not a single political decision in Nepal that had not required his approval. He was cremated at Pashupatinath, where all royal family members are cremated. Elizabeth stood with other members of the press on a knoll across the river from the site. They had a perfect view of the ceremony, which she described as unforgettable. It was dark when Prince Basundhara brought the late king's body to the cremation site. The body was placed on the cedar wood pyre, which was then solemnly lit. As the fire came to life, cedar and incense combined to produce a pungent fragrance that billowed across the river. Suddenly, the fire exploded into a huge flame and soared skyward as a great orange full moon gradually rose over the hills.

The new king, 26-year-old Birendra, was not present; he was in the palace, since kings of Nepal do not participate in their predecessor's cremation ceremony or in any other way publicly grieve. He was expected to make some changes and Elizabeth wondered how difficult it would be for him. He seemed to be an impatient man who would
probably not tolerate the delays Mahendra had allowed, although she understood that many of those delays were caused by Mahendra's inability to delegate authority. But there were other major differences between the two. Birendra had been raised in a different era. He had only just been born when the Rana rule was drawing to a close. He had travelled widely and spent five years at Eton, one at Harvard and part of a year at the University of Tokyo. Despite his exposure to the modern world, Birendra had an ominous connection with an ancient prophecy. Two centuries earlier a prophet had predicted that the direct descendants of the founding monarch, Prithvi Narayan Shah, would rule for 10 generations – and no more. If this were true, Birendra would be the last.

Another expedition was in town, again for the Southwest Face of Everest. Elizabeth was very involved, dealing with their mail, film shipments and entertainment. The British team members included Don Whillans, Doug Scott and Hamish MacInnes. But difficulties arose, particularly between the British members and their leader, Dr. Karl Herrligkoffer.

Elizabeth speculated privately whether these multination attempts were doomed before they set out. It was easy to understand why Herrligkoffer had included the three Brits, for they were experienced on Everest and had climbed high on this face the previous year. But their climbing strategies were not compatible and this led to misunderstandings. The Brits thought the Germans were squandering their energy and resources, and the Germans thought the Brits were lazy. “Whillans, for instance, likes a lie-in, a cup of tea and a cigar or two before he starts work, and it is after 11:00 a.m. or even noon before he sets out for the day's climb at great altitudes,” she wrote.

The expedition was also plagued by strikes by the Sherpas, and Herrligkoffer had to fly back to Munich twice during the climb to get more climbing equipment to satisfy these demands. He finally left the expedition early and it fell apart soon after.

By fall of 1972 the Brits were back again on the Southwest Face route. Led by Chris Bonington, the strong British team included Jimmy Roberts as co-leader, Doug Scott, Mick Burke, Dougal Haston, Hamish MacInnes and Nick Estcourt. Elizabeth was in charge of their communications, receiving letters from them periodically and
reporting their progress. But by November they too gave up, at 8230 metres, because of terrible cold and wind. She sympathized with them and felt they had deserved the summit.

A death in the Khumbu Icefall strained her friendship with Chris Bonington. It was near the end of the expedition, and though Bonington did not have permission for Australian Tony Tighe to go any farther than base camp, he had allowed him to go into the icefall a couple of times. The last time in the icefall, a sérac collapsed, burying Tighe under hundreds of tons of ice. Bonington received some terse reprimands from the authorities in Kathmandu for defying their regulations, and he felt Elizabeth had made too big a story of the “non-permission” part of the tragedy. The headline in the London
Daily Telegraph
on November 16, 1972, read “Bonington May Face Ban Over Everest Death,” referring to a threat by Nepalese authorities to restrict Bonington's chances of returning to Nepal. He was saddened by Tighe's death but irritated with Elizabeth for her troublesome reporting. They had words. As Elizabeth remembers the incident, “He has a hot temper. I have felt the wrath of his temper once or twice. But I have forgiven him.”

Her work was not limited to tourism and climbing, however, for she was still reporting political news for Reuters. A big event early in 1973 was Indian Prime Minister Indira Gandhi's visit to Kathmandu. Elizabeth was impressed with her, particularly at a press conference where she and other reporters were asking difficult questions. Gandhi managed to evade their questions, yet kept them all happy. “She may be short, but she packs plenty of poise and mental agility,” she wrote her mother.