Annapurna (15 page)

Was it really going to be fine? Since leaving Tukucha I had barely seen a glimpse of blue sky, and at the risk of slipping on the hard snow of this steep slope, I kept on turning round to admire the view. We were completely overwhelmed by the Great Barrier whose average height I put at nearly 23,000 feet. Its defences culminated in a gigantic and inaccessible keep, right in the centre, and its precipitous walls rose 10,000 feet above the camp. The rock was smooth and offered no irregularity, no line of weakness on which the trained eye of a mountaineer might hope to trace out a possible route. Annapurna was a giant fortress and we were still only on the outer defences.

We were in a savage and desolate cirque of mountains never before seen by man. No animal or plant could exist here. In the pure morning light this absence of all life, this utter destitution of nature, seemed only to intensify our own strength. How could we
expect
anyone else to understand the peculiar exhilaration that we drew from this barrenness, when man’s natural tendency is to turn towards everything in nature that is rich and generous?

We were nearly as high as Mont Blanc, and it was extremely cold. Everybody was out of breath, and went at his own pace. When we reached the saddle the sun had risen, and whereas a moment ago those stupendous walls had been dark and ominous, now they glowed with light. We had to make for the foot of the ridge proper, and Terray, who had come with us in spite of his previous day’s exhaustion, pointed out the line of attack. We took the ropes out of our sacks, and tied on. The previous day’s party had left a rope fixed here all ready for us, and we started up rock which, though limestone, was relatively firm. Sarki was on my rope; Rébuffat followed with Ajeeba, Terray with Aila and Schatz.

If the solution of the problem lay up the spur we must reach it quickly, and we determined to go all out. The plan was that as soon as the ground became too difficult for the Sherpas they would put down their loads and go down again, while the four Sahibs would go on and pitch a tent as high as possible, where Rébuffat and I would sleep. Terray and Schatz would go back to the shoulder, where Lachenal would join Terray in the evening, after resting from his exertions the day before. As for Schatz, he would return to Base Camp and come up again the following day with Couzy, and so make a third assault party; they would organize a camp on the shoulder.

The first part was soon accomplished: we sent back the Sherpas, who lost a great deal of time on the difficult rock. I noticed, however, how quickly they adapted themselves to the terrain, though up till now they had had little experience of this kind of thing. Sarki in particular, I thought, would be capable of leading a party on quite difficult rock. After they had gone we gained height rapidly: we surveyed, as from an aeroplane, the continuation of our spur, which from here looked quite attractive. We could also see the glaciers flowing down on both sides of our ridge. The clouds, as usual, were low down, obscuring any view of the mountains around us.

The ridge narrowed and put us in mind of our own splendid Chamonix aiguilles. The rock was good, and if it had not been for our loads and for the height it would have been a really enjoyable
climb
. Then it became very cold and started to snow. We were certainly above 18,000 feet. I looked up the ridge and tried to spot a site for the tent. For the moment we could see nothing but some unsatisfactory-looking ledges, and these were few and far between. The weather was threatening and we had to come to some decision, particularly as it was getting late and Schatz and Terray wanted to go back. We were holding on with our hands to a blade-thin little rock ridge, while our feet dangled against the rock. The exposure was considerable – I couldn’t remember anything quite so steep in the Alps. The few rocks sticking out from the slope were covered with ice. I could not understand how snow could ever lie on these slopes and I realized why avalanches were so frequent.

After this delicate traverse we came to a small triangular snow-covered shelf. The weather had now turned really bad, and we straightaway decided to pitch our tent here, setting to work at once, hurling the snow off either side of the ridge and so starting avalanches; some ice-covered rocks went the same way. But even after this clearing of the decks there was hardly room for two of us to sit down. We tried to prise up some rocks embedded in the ice, hacking away in turn, or plying our axes as levers. Terray angrily grabbed my axe and struck such furious blows that the rock seemed likely to split – alas, it was the axe that gave way; the blade was literally bent double! Fortunately he succeeded in straightening it again. The site now looked more promising, and Terray and Schatz could leave us. In five minutes they had disappeared from sight. But I was worried about them – climbing at this height in fresh snow is highly dangerous.

Rébuffat and I were now alone. We went on working away at our emplacement for all we were worth – that is to say, as quickly as our want of breath would allow us. We prised up an enormous stone and placed it carefully on the edge of the slope to extend the surface at our disposal. We consolidated the whole with snow, levelled it and then at last began to get the tent up. We fastened it in front with pitons hammered into the rock, and at the back to our ice-axes driven in up to the hilt, and we fixed the guy-ropes to stones instead of to pegs. The careful Rébuffat made a little wall on the edge of the precipice to protect himself from the wind, and prudently put in a good strong piton for us to belay ourselves to. To this piton we remained roped all night.

Snow fell relentlessly, with never a break; the cold became unbearable. Had there ever been such an airy camp as this, we wondered, or one which had been wrested from the mountains with such difficulty? Tea cheered us up a little. We had very little appetite, but dutifully swallowed the vitascorbol and B2 vitamins advised by the doctor. The wind howled, the tent shook; our thoughts went round and round in circles; we could not get to sleep for a long time.

At dawn it was still snowing slightly; the rocks had quite a thick covering of powder snow which discouraged any hope of our being able to go on. We decided to wait for better weather, and if it did not improve we would go down at midday, leaving everything in place for our return to the attack. The most difficult pitch was directly above our tent. It consisted of a block split at the top by a little crack which had to be reached – but heaven knew how, for everything was covered with snow. Rébuffat thought it was hopeless and was all for going down at once. But I wanted to exhaust every possibility and so avoid any future regrets. If the weather improved the snow might melt quickly and allow reasonable progress.

‘They’re coming! Listen, that’s their ice-axes.’

Lachenal and Terray appeared on the ridge.

‘What the hell are you doing here?’ they asked. ‘Are you resting?’

‘Can’t you see the snow?’

‘We’ve seen just as much as you have. More than you, for we’ve been climbing since dawn to get here.’

‘You’re a pair of sissies,’ growled Lachenal crossly.

‘It would be mad to go on,’ retorted Rébuffat. ‘I’ve no wish to come off here.’

‘We’ll show you who’s coming off,’ said Lachenal, quite beside himself. And without waiting another minute he flung himself at this pitch which he had already climbed two days before. He began a traverse to the left on particularly insecure snow; it was just lying loose on the slope, but when he stepped on it, it packed and adhered to the rock. At the very end of this ledge was a crack up which he climbed for about ten feet; all the holds were covered with ice. I glanced at Terray, to whom he was roped, and saw that he had him well belayed. Lachenal now set to work on an outsize open corner and cleared a crack which he tried to use. His feet slipped, and only by a miracle did his hands hold. He came down,
hammered
in a piton which wobbled and inspired no confidence, but he stepped on to it without any hesitation. How on earth was he to get any higher? He took his ice-axe, which was all wet, jammed it an inch or so in the crack and pulled on it hard to see if it held: the axe moved up and down in the crack, but by jerking it he succeeded in jamming it firmly in. Then he hung on by both arms to the shaft of the axe, took his foot off the piton and made a desperate effort to gain a few inches. I was not at all happy: it seemed to me that it was wrong to take such risks in the present conditions. I kept close to Terray in case it should be necessary to hold Lachenal on the rope, but had hardly time to say a word before Lachenal was up, having surmounted the difficult stretch in a really masterly fashion. Without losing a second Terray followed and fixed a second piton and some nylon line.

Closing the tent and shouldering our packs, Rébuffat and I started off too, and a few moments later joined the other rope on a comfortable stance protected by a great shelter stone. Here, of course, was where we ought to have pitched our camp, but the filthy weather of the previous day had made it impossible. Today we were still surrounded by clouds, but through some rifts I was able to see, over on my left, the final ice-fall of the north Annapurna glacier of which I had so far had only indistinct views.

We held a brief consultation. The only one to take an optimistic view of the route up the spur was Lionel Terray. Lachenal, having made such a to-do when he joined us, was now of the opinion that we should never finish with this endless ridge. Rébuffat was pessimistic. As for myself, I had come to the conclusion that in all probability the spur would not prove to be the way up Annapurna because, even if we found later that the route itself would go, it would be out of the question to bring the whole Expedition up it. Obviously, the route was so long and difficult that, in the event of prolonged bad weather, the premature arrival of the monsoon, or any injury to a climber which involved carrying him down, our situation might well become highly dangerous.

Much the same reasoning had already made me give up Dhaulagiri. Lionel Terray was so confident, so enthusiastic, that no arguments in favour of caution had the slightest effect on him. I found it hard to discourage so much perseverance, and in particular that burning desire, which I could so well understand, to go all out
on
the mountain. On the other hand I did not wish to delay future operations by even one single day.

As I looked once more at the glacier, and the enormous ice-fall down below, I felt in my bones that if there was a way up Annapurna, that was where it lay. So another plan began to take shape in my mind. Rébuffat and Lachenal, who had not the least wish to continue up the spur, would go back as quickly as possible to the temporary Base Camp. They would then take a Sherpa with them, and attempt to force a way – which to all appearances would be found along the right bank – up the glacier to the plateau which, we guessed, lay beyond the ice-fall on the north face. If they were successful they would have to send us word at once. Meanwhile, Terray and I would continue up the spur to set our minds finally at rest over the possibilities of this route. So Lachenal and Rébuffat left us, taking with them instructions for Couzy and Schatz to come up the following day either to back us up, or to help us get everything off the spur.

Terray and I put the tent up. I looked forward to spending a night high up with him for the first time. The weather was very poor. Our aim was to take as little with us as possible and to press on with all speed in order to settle once for all the question of the spur.

We slept like logs, but Terray, who always wakes on the dot, was up and moving soon after dawn. Snugly installed in my sleeping-bag I played at being the Bara Sahib: Terray made the tea, opened tins and served me my breakfast in bed. We stepped out into the fresh snow, which had been falling thickly for two days. We felt the height badly while we were still cold. Although we were carrying very little, it was a tremendous strain at first; but we gritted our teeth and went on, for we did not want to lose a minute. We felt it was a sort of commando raid we were engaged on.

After an easy chimney we came out again upon the ridge which gradually became so narrow that we could not walk along it in balance. So we followed the crest, hanging on by our hands, as though we were traversing an immense horizontal bar, with our feet dangling against the steep sides. We progressed like this over a precipice of some six or seven thousand feet. Gradually we approached the famous snow ridge which Lachenal and Terray had told us about. Their remarks had been so contradictory that I
had
every reason to be anxious about this obstacle. In fact, as we came nearer, it showed itself to be very high and very steep. Without hesitating a minute Terray went ahead and I followed a short distance behind him. The slope began with an elegant crescent moon, then it did indeed become excessively steep, and soon I felt not only snow under my crampons but hard ice lying just beneath. While Terray was cutting steps with tremendous whacks, I stuck some ice-pitons into the slope to belay him. Luckily the thin layer of snow was extremely hard, and it was not necessary to make very large steps. By skirting round to the left we were able to avoid a steep ice wall. I hammered in an ice-piton regularly every rope’s length, and Terray did the same, and as I came up I collected the pitons – we had to be very economical since we were carrying only a limited supply of them. Our noses were right up against the slope, and often hand-holds as well as foot-holds had to be cut in the ice. We now came to the first rock gendarmes of the ridge – they were overhanging. What a series of disappointments!

Terray traversed boldly to the right to reach a crack in the rock, where he put in a couple of pitons. He belayed himself securely, then, leaning over backwards above those plunging ice-slopes, he brought me up. We were in shadow now, and shivering with cold. In turn I belayed Terray, who continued his traverse to the right to avoid a rocky projection. The going was pretty tricky, and the general feel of the climb not too good. Soon we were again together, this time in the sun, but the situation was most uncomfortable and indeed precarious, for the few rays of warmth had been enough to turn the hard snow into a treacherous mush. The last slopes of bare ice gave us some trouble; and then we found ourselves at the top of the ridge, at about 20,000 feet. The weather was now brilliantly fine, and I took some photographs. Annapurna looked only a stone’s throw away.