Fearless on Everest: The Quest for Sandy Irvine (31 page)

If he were early to arrive in camp of an afternoon, Sandy always made a point of helping the porters to put up the mess tent and his own Whymper tent, assistance which earned their respect and affection.   He was impressed with the porters ability to walk sometimes fifteen or sixteen miles in a day and then buckle down in camp to produce dinner for the expedition and themselves.

They were beginning to encounter very cold nights as they camped on the plateau.  On 8 April they had 28 degrees of frost, or a temperature of 2° F (-18C) and there was a wind of 30mph blowing. That day Sandy celebrated his twenty-second birthday in Lung-Gye-Dok and they made of fuss of him with a particularly good meal that evening. The following night as they were sitting in the mess tent ‘with twelve people and two gas lamps’ both Norton and Sandy recorded in their diaries that the temperature in the tent was 25 °F (7 degrees of frost) and 10 °F outside the tent.  The cold was to become a familiar and recurring feature from now onwards.  The clothing they had been advised to purchase in London was soon to be put to the test.  Sandy wrote: ‘All today I kept quite warm by wearing thick woollen underclothes, flannel shirt, wind-proof coat, fleece lining, leather waist-coat and 3-ply burberry.  But’, he added, ‘found the weight of the clothes made me quite exhausted getting onto my mule at the top of the pass.’  He must have been wearing about twenty pounds of clothes.

From the plateau they descended to Kampa Dzong [where they encountered warm sun and no wind, a welcome change for them all after four days of being blown about like leaves.  The trek had taken its toll on the equipment and the Irvine workshop was bustling with activity as soon as the party settled in camp.  Mallory’s bed, Beetham’s camera and Odell’s camera tripod were the first articles to be mended with the use of Sandy’s brazing lamp.  In the process he succeeded in tearing his windproof trousers, much to his frustration.  The day after their arrival he and Odell spent the day working on the oxygen apparatus.  They weighed oxygen bottles at random and were dismayed to find some of them empty and others only half full.  The apparatus they tested leaked badly but after a lot of hard work they did succeed in reducing the leak somewhat.  It was at this point that Sandy realized nothing short of a complete redesign would have any hope of working.  He would have to recreate what he had worked on in Oxford and Birkenhead before he left for India. With Odell’s encouragement he set about designing Mark I, which was soon replaced with Marks II, III and eventually IV and V.  His aim was to do away with the clumsy tubing, valves and flowmeters, to lighten the apparatus and to make it more reliable.  He inverted the cylinders, as he had done in his Oxford laboratory, and began to fashion the simplified set he hoped would be less prone to leaks and failures.  It was a start but his workshop was limited and he was constantly irritated by the conditions he was trying to work in and the few tools he had to hand.  Despite his frustration with the apparatus, he was very happy to be in Kampa Dzong where he was able to have a hot bath. ‘My arms & knees have recovered from the tropical sun down in the valleys’, he wrote to Lilian ‘but this sun & wind has removed most of the skin from my nose & mouth which is most painful.  It is a wonderful change to get here only 14,500 so hot you can bathe in the stream coming straight off the snow & no wind at all.’

The camp was sited in a delightful, sheltered spot below the magnificent fortress of Kampa Dzong which Sandy sketched for the benefit of his mother, likening it to a familiar Cheshire landmark: ‘the Dzong is a fort standing on a rock about 500 ft straight above us very like Beeston Castle, but of course a different style, very tall and rectangular’.  For a day or so the atmosphere in the camp was relaxed but then came the stunning news that the general, who had hoped to join them in Kampa Dzong, having taken a lower route via Tuna, was too ill to continue.  Hingston had diagnosed a severe recurrence of malaria which the general had contracted some months earlier while tiger hunting in India.  It was announced that he was to be taken back to Darjeeling on a stretcher, with Hingston in attendance.  This was a most terrible blow to the expedition.  Norton, the general’s deputy, was now appointed the leader of the expedition.  It was a responsibility that he had in part anticipated as the general’s health had not been good for the best part of a week. 

Mallory, in the meantime, had recovered from his stomach complaint and the logical thing to do, in the light of Norton’s change of role, was to appoint Mallory as leader of the climbing party.  This they did and Mallory, understandably, was delighted and told Ruth the following day: ‘Norton takes command.  He has appointed me second-in-command in his place and also leader of the climbers altogether.  I’m bound to say I feel some little satisfaction in the latter position.’ It was absolutely the right thing to happen and it meant that Mallory, who was already totally preoccupied with his plans for the assault on the mountain, could discuss them with fresh enthusiasm and greater authority and he set to work immediately on formulating a plan of attack.  The ripples resulting from the general’s departure were felt right down the line of the expedition.  The porters had had great affection for Bruce and held him in high regard. Norton wrote of the his departure sympathetically and with a genuine note of sadness:

Yesterday we received the severest blow in the news that our leader, General Bruce, had been forced to return to Phari en route for Yatung and Darjeeling, owing to severe malaria.  There is every reason to fear that his absence will be permanent.  To all who know what the personality of General Bruce meant to the British members, to the Himalayan staff, to the Tibetan officials, and to the others with whom the expedition comes in contact, the news speaks for itself.  General Bruce creates a unique atmosphere, and his place cannot be filled adequately, while from the point of view of practical efficiency his knowledge of the people and of the conditions of the country, and the light-hearted method he had of sweeping away all difficulties, makes his absence a handicap of which we shall continue to feel to the end.

He went on to explain the arrangements for getting Bruce back to Darjeeling, accompanied by Hingston, and adds with some humour; ‘We can ill spare our medico and naturalist in either capacity though to some of us the gap caused by his absence is compensated to some extent by relief from the various tortures in the shape of altitude tests to which he periodically subjects us – breath-holding, blowing mercury up a tube, and, worst of all, the sums whereby he unerringly detects a steady decay of our intellects as the altitude increases.’ 

Norton proved to be a superb substitute for General Bruce and he had the unconditional support of both the expedition members and the porters.  He was very much liked by everybody and had already shown, in the build-up and preparation for the 1924 expedition, that he was a natural leader.  Nevertheless, he felt the pressure of taking over the leadership to be a great responsibility and was very fortunate to have in Geoffrey Bruce an excellent right-hand man.

Mallory wasted no time in his new role as climbing leader and had a long discussion with Norton the following afternoon after which the plan was explained to all the members of the climbing party at dinner.  Two men, not using supplemental oxygen, should establish a camp at 26,500 feet and sleep there.  The following day, if health and conditions permitted, they should make a summit bid.  In the event of this not being possible they should stay at Camp V and melt snow for the next party to arrive.  The second party, comprising three climbers using oxygen, would get to camp V to receive the first party who may or may not be returning from the summit, and climb themselves to the summit the next day.  Such was the plan that was to be worked on between now and arrival in Base Camp.  Sandy was in no position to comment but he knew that he would be a contender for the oxygen summit party, if he performed well at altitude, because of his work on the oxygen apparatus. He had good reason to feel optimistic on all counts.  He was proving to be very fit and acclimatizing faster than the other new members and his work on the equipment could not fail to be appreciated by all.  The afternoon before they left Kampa Dzong they had a demonstration of the oxygen apparatus ‘How to test for leaks’.  ‘We found the leaks alright but couldn’t cure them’, Sandy noted rather forlornly in his diary that night. 

As they prepared to leave the comfort of Kampa Dzong after two days of rest and planning Sandy signed off his letter to Lilian: ‘Everything smells or tastes (or both) of yak dung – generally the smoke of – which is most unpleasant but I’m getting used to it.  I think its worst when my man comes in to wake me in the mornings after sleeping over a sling fire!  Am enjoying this trek tremendously.’ 

Beetham’s condition was sufficiently improved that Somervell felt confident that he could continue on the trek.  They left Kampa Dzong early on the morning of 15 April with much more satisfactory transport arrangements than they had had from Phari, although Sandy observed the loads had not been as well strapped on to the yaks ‘for one saw on average 2 loads per mile on the ground’. Once again spirits were high, the rest at Kampa having benefited them all considerably.  They walked and rode across an immense sandy plain criss-crossed with pockets of quicksand which they learnt to avoid after MacDonald and his mount had fallen into one spot leaving a big hole behind them as they extricated themselves.  Sandy rode with Hazard, cantering for mile after mile across the sand dunes.  ‘At one point my hat blew off and Hazard and I had a great hunt after it at full gallop trying to spike it with our walking sticks.  The ponies seemed to enjoy it quite as much as we did.’ The immense size of the plain could be judged by the fact that there was a horizon in every direction between themselves and the nearest mountains in the distance.  The sight of this deeply impressed Sandy who described it in his diary as magnificent, an unusual use of a superlative from him.  They spent two days covering this part of the plain and his diary is full of his impressions of it. ‘The last 4-5 miles of our trek today was through enormous sand hills, some perfectly uniform blown sand, some held together with star grass and some covered with stone and rock, obviously sandstone in the process of weathering.  Over one of the last hills we came in full view of a priceless blue lake about 5 miles long and covered with thousands of duck, geese and all kinds of birds.’ I have the strong impression that this was the area in Tibet which most appealed to Sandy as he mentions it in his letter to his mother from Tinki Dzong in equally glowing terms. 

As they came in to Tinki they were met by Shebbeare and a number of Tibetans on horseback whom he introduced as the Tinki cavalry.  They all rode together into the village where the party was plied with chang, later celebrating Somervell’s thirty-fourth birthday with a big plum pudding.  ‘We burnt absolute alcohol on the plum pudding as it was easier to get at than the brandy!’  Sandy noted; ‘I also took it in my coffee, but it tasted like chloroform and left me very thirsty.’ The following morning, a rest day, found him struggling again in his tent-cum-workshop.  He’d already spent the previous afternoon mending Geoffrey Bruce’s office table and developing photographs with Beetham.  On this day he discovered, to his great frustration, that Siebe Gorman had misinformed him about the make of screw they had used on the oxygen apparatus.  This was a significant blow and he was very angry as there was nothing he could do but to press on and try to make something ‘out of the present box of tricks’.  He wrote to Lilian:

I have my work cut out with the Oxygen!  Every apparatus tested yet leaks more gas than one breathes.  None were tested before leaving England.  34 Cylinders out of 90 had to be refilled at Calcutta because they had leaked.  So far we have tested 16 & found 6 empty.  I am at present completely redesigning the apparatus & trying to make up a serviceable design before we reach the base camp.  Before I left England I rang up Siebe Gorman to know what threads they used on the Ox. apparatus, they said Standard Whitworth so I got a set of taps & dies to suit.  Today I used them for the first time & found that the Ox app. had B.A. threads throughout & not Whitworth.  With my limited workshop it makes things rather difficult.

In the past writers have pointed to Sandy’s cheerful outlook, his easy-going nature and his enviable reputation for good humour.  I find myself wondering whether it has almost made him seem as if he were too good-natured and thus lacking in spirit.  But there was an altogether different side to Sandy, one that harboured the energy, the drive, the fire in his belly, as one his rowing friends put it, and that would occasionally burst out in an explosion of temper and fury. 

Just after Tinki his fiery temper got the better of him.  His troubles finding an adequate pony for his size and ability had been solved when he chanced up a good little mare in Kampa Dzong.  Four days later, as he was walking far ahead of the party he met the owner of the mare who demanded he change it for a different animal.  He was incandescent with rage: ‘I told him to go to the devil and went on, but looking round found Tsuchin calmly changing my saddle.  I went back and cursed them violently and came away with my original pony.  I couldn’t understand the fellow’s argument but I gather he was the pony’s owner and as it is a mare did not want to risk it being used too heavily.’  The owner of the mare caved in at the sight of a sunburned six-foot Hercules bellowing incomprehensibly at him and Sandy kept the pony for the rest of the trek.  He really did not take kindly to anybody interfering with what he regarded as his personal affairs, especially after hehad taken so long to resolve the riding problem anyway.

Clearly invigorated after his altercation with the Tibetan he stormed over the next 17,500 foot pass feeling very fit, ‘my breathing was not nearly so fierce as before and I could move quite fast without breathing more than once to a complete step’. Atop all the passes are cairns, or piles of stones, placed there by the Tibetans who believe that the passes are inhabited by spirits.  In order to appease the spirits the travellers place stones for them, often carved with elaborate prayers and decorated with prayer flags flapping noisily in the wind, attached to bamboo sticks or canes.  Respectful of their customs Sandy had early on made a note in his diary of the Tibetan prayer he should offer when placing a stone on the cairn.  Reaching the top he placed his stone on the cairn, said the prayer and sat down to rest and wait for the others to catch him up. ‘Just before I reached the top of the pass I looked back over to see a wonderful glimpse between two steep mountains of a deep blue lake with four humpy rocks some 3-400 ft high formed by curves of a vertical strata giving the appearance of four great dinosaurs with their rocky spines, all following each other.  The border of the lake was white with salt giving an idea of surf on its shores.’ Hazard arrived a few minutes later and insisted on running all the way down the other side, some four or five miles where they had tiffin and lay down for a sleep in the sun. Mallory, Odell and Norton had also used the 17,500 foot Bahman Dople pass to test their acclimatization and Norton was a little aggrieved that he was unable to keep up with them right to the top.  They too ran down the other side where they joined Hazard and Sandy.