IT was a typically chaotic prelude to the trip when I heard of the latest news on reaching Delhi. One member had gone down with hepatitis the day he was to fly from Sydney, and two Americans had been forced to withdraw owing to an eleventh hour posting to Africa. Telegrams flashed to Bombay and brought .html Australian climber onto the scene, Geoff Hill. and up in Kulu valley we recruited two high altitude porters. In many ways it was remarkable that we were ever able to set off, least of all with a party of eight.
We drove from Manali up into the Parvati valley along 50 miles of tortuous roads and shortly both baggage and people were scattered liberally over a nearby field. The crisis continued as first the campsite was flooded out (we had no boy-scouts in the party) and secondly. we could not recruit any porters. Pasang, our trusty Sherpa. disappeared up a nearby mountain on a recruitment campaign and next day a rabble of 26 hillmen came to our assistance. Perhaps that is the wrong word for two days later they treated us to a strike and supposedly disappeared for ever. But as usually happens. the lure of money brought the porters back on the fourth day and that afternoon we were able to establish Base.
Base Camp was situated at 12,600 ft. in the upper Malana Nullah, above the terminal moraine of the Malana Glacier. It was familiar ground for Pettigrew, Henty and Pritchard who had all climbed from this Base before during visits to the area. But we were all able to appreciate the spectacle of the gigantic rock spires, vast snow fields and twisting glaciers. Particularly prominent was Ali Ratni Tibba (18,013 ft.) rising majestically above its neighbouring peaks. Here indeed was a difficult mountain whose four symmetrical rock faces plunged almost sheer for 4 or 5,000 ft. to the glaciers below. The profile from Base lent reminiscences of the Aiguille du Dru only magnified perhaps three times.
Our own objective however lay out of sight above .html valley, the Tos Nullah. The approach was to be over the Pass of Animals (15,025 ft.) and a further day’s march to an Advance Base at 14,000 ft. on the Tos glacier. We believed .html glacier (Papsura glacier) would then yield an approach to Papsura (21,165 ft.), the unattempted and third highest peak of the Kulu Lahul Spiti divide. Our main problem was to be the long supply line of at least two days from Base over the 15,000 ft. pass to Advance Base. We decided that all eight of us would ferry the loads over, to ensure our being together in case of storm. It was a wise decision for we were shortly treated to a three day blizzard at Base. The snow conditions in the succeeding days were appalling and the whole ferrying operation took 12 days.
Just before the ferrying operation was complete, Pettigrew and Pritchard ascended the 1,000 ft. of moraine above Advance Base to reconnoitre a route to Camp 1 (17,000 ft.). They continued across the snows and threaded a way through the complex crevasses of the Papsura glacier. Faced with a doubtful snow-bridge, Pritchard took a running leap across the crevasse. The short jump landed him neatly in the middle of the bridge and he rapidly disappeared into the yawning depths. A taut rope and a convenient snowledge brought him to rest 40 ft. lower down with no more injury than a damaged pride. The climbing rope of doubled Perlon line repelled all attempts to prussik but the creaking ice walls seemed to urge a rapid exit. However, it was over three hours before a panting and crusing Pritchard managed to climb out of the obnoxious hole. The two were impressed with their first venture near Papsura and returned to Advance Base for tea.
Despite their mishap they had established a safe route to Camp 1 near the foot of the steep rock and ice walls leading to Papsura. On May 20th the last loads were ferried to Advance Base whilst a tent and equipment were left at Camp 1. The weather looked threatening, and on the 21st a fierce storm lashed the camps. The next morning the storm had abated and we were able to flounder through the fresh snow with more loads for Camp l. As we came back down, .html storm broke precipitating minor avalanches across our path, but fortunately the tents were soon reached and we settled comfortably inside.
The same night the storm increased in fury and for 78 hours the blizzard tore at the tents which were slowly buried in the snow. When the weather finally cleared on May 26th, the three feet of fresh snow still chained us to the camp. It was not for .html three days that we were able to move, and even then progress was very trying. Pasang and Hill returned over the pass to Base on skis – our food supplies had been rather reduced during the storm – and the rest of us returned to Camp 1. The tent had completely disappeared and it was only by pure chance that we saw the single inch of tent pole protruding from the vast expanse of snow. It took two hours to dig out the tattered canvas and retrieve all the buried gear, by which time we were very tired. The day had painfully demonstrated how much seven days of enforced inactivity reduces ones fitness.
On May 30th, Pritchard, Payne and myself took a closer look at the assault route (the Eastern couloir of the South face) and succeeded in placing about 500 ft. of fixed rope at the foot of what later became known as Avalanche Couloir. We returned to Camp 1 where we found Pettigrew and Wangyal cooking a splendid meal. Our large assault party of six was now ready to move off the next day. The remaining two (Pasang and Hill) were now down at Advance Base recovering from their ferry from Base.
We aroused Wangyal at 11 p.m. that night after a minimum of sleep. By 1 a.m. on the 31st the six of us had eaten a large breakfast and were stumbling across the Papsura glacier in almost total darkness. We reached the fixed ropes after two hours and hauled ourselves up into Avalanche Couloir across the small bergschrund. Up ahead Wangyal started kicking steps in the steep snow and, pitch by pitch. we followed in pairs. The ever increasing panorama of peaks put the physical strain out of our minds. Shortly the rising sun gave a brilliant dawn display of snows in silver and red as the sky changed through almost all the colours of the rainbow. A little later we noticed two specks of figures moving about at Camp 1 and then advancing towards the couloir. Pasang and Hill had apparently come up from Advance Base and were hoping to join us on the summit attempt.
The 2,500 ft. of couloir seemed never ending and four hours later it still rose steeply above us. We felt very insigni6cant compared with enormous rock and ice buttresses which formed the imposing sides of the couloir. Over two thousand feet up, the snow turned to a rotten crystalline form, underlaid with a sheet of ice. Our crampons bit into the ice but progress was slow and nerve racking. Ice-screws would not take for belays nor could the axes be thrust in deep enough for security. At 11 a.m. we emerged exhausted onto the summit ridge at about 20.000 ft. Pasang and Hill had joined us and the whole expedition rested on the snow, pondering on the situation.
The col we had reached was poised over a drop of about 4,000 ft. to the Bare Shigri glacier below. The ridge above was blocked by an enormous wall of ice and further ascent promised huge cornices interspaced with rock buttresses. Our hopes that the ridge would yield an easy line to the summit were dashed and it was clear that all eight of us could not proceed further. Coupled with this, Pasang now discovered that two of his toes were frostbitten. We decided to all descend and to try .html route later.
Back down in the couloir the sun had softened the deep surface snow, left by the blizzard of a week ago. Hill and Pasang rushed off down first as we followed more slowly in two ropes of three. Payne was suffering from the altitude and twice slipped from the rotting steps, only to be held firmly by Pritchard. Below the ice section he slid off again and was finally suspended upside down by a rope tangle about his feet. While Pettigrew unwrapped the writhing body. Wangyal, Henty and I continued down. Suddenly a roar from above sent us fleeing to the side of the couloir and a large avalanche swept past us – much too close for comfort. We descended even faster in fear that .html would shortly come crashing down.
Near the foot of the couloir we heard .html roar and horrified we saw three bodies bouncing and rolling down from 1,500 ft. above. They passed below, shedding oddments of kit and disappeared from sight. Already exhausted. we tried to rush after them and in a few minutes found they had come to rest on the edge of the bergschrund. Payne was partially buried, Pritchard slowly choking from a rope wrapped round his neck, and Pettigrew in great pain from a leg injury. We cut them free and helped Pritchard out from his precarious snow perch inside the crevasse. At all costs we had to carry Pettigrew clear of the avalanches. .html of which we expected at any moment. Fortunately Pritchard and Payne soon recovered enough to help in the operation but it was an hour before we had managed to move Pettigrew clear. The avalanche debris made carrying very difficult and the pain caused by the constant jolting must have been terrible, After .html hour the casualty was inside a tent and most of the scattered equipment in the couloir recovered. Pasang was at this time resting with his frostbite at Camp 1, but Hill came back up with food and bedding for Pettigrew. He stayed the night while the rest of us returned to Camp 1 at the end of a gruelling and eventful 23 hour day.
On June 1st we went back up and eventually carried the injured man away from all avalanche danger and back to Camp 1. The soft snow and an altitude of over 17,000 ft. hindered the carry but the operation was over after only 6 hours. That evening it was decided that Pasang and I would rush back to Manali to get both a stretcher party of porters and treatment for Pasang’s frostbite. As I packed that night, I thought of our predicament: a frostbite case and a suspected dislocated hip, an unconquered summit and valuable equipment lost in the fall, but most of all the height of our camp which was separated from Kulu valley by two high passes and a considerable mileage.
We left at 2,30 a.m. on the dark and cold morning of June 2nd and made excellent progress. The descent to Advance Base and long haul up to the Pass of Animals was over by breakfast time and we were able to bivouac well beyond Base Camp that night. Another long day took us over the 11,000 ft. Chandar Khanni Pass from where we ran down through the 7,000 ft. of forest to reach the road 3 hours later. After initial frustration we caught the last bus to reach Manali that night. By the following afternoon a team of seven hillmen and a much recovered Pasang was winding its way back up into the mountains.
Meanwhile, the party at Camp 1 awaited the stretcher team. Hill was anxious to make .html assault and persuaded Pritchard, who was now recovering from his fall, to climb with him up a different couloir that would bring the pair out nearer the summit. They left the camp at 2 a.m. on June 3rd and by 10 a.m. they had reached the top of "Rolleiflex Couloir" (the Western couloir of the South Face) at about 20,000 ft. in excellent snow conditions. They paused for a snack on some rocks before moving back down a little onto the crest of the couloir. Hill tied their rucksack to the rope and lowered it to Pritchard. Disastrously the knot came undone and the sack plunged off down the steep couloir below, taking with it all their bivouac gear, gloves and Pettigrew’s valuable Rolleiflex camera. They paused to look down and then decided to rush up the remaining 800 ft, or so to the summit.
In Pritchard’s own words:
"Hill led the perilous traverse of the steep, corniced crest of the couloir and the next two pitches took us to the foot of an intimidating rock step. This he led, again in crampons, to a fine safe stance overlooking the awesome drop 5,000 ft. down to the Bara Shigri glacier. I followed with difficulty and now only two steep pitches separated us from the broad summit ridge. As we surmounted them, Camp 1 disappeared from our view and with it the tiny cluster of figures eagerly following our progress. They knew as we did, that the summit was close; they must have shared our elation at the prospect of snatching success from the jaws of defeat.
"By this time Hill was feeling effects of altitude and the strain of continuous leading and he found that last stretch interminable. We reached the summit at 2.30 p.m. but the view was partially obscured by storm clouds welling below."
Hill and Pritchard rested only briefly. for although pleased with their success they were fully aware of the danger of a storm when they had no bivouac equipment. In half an hour they were descending carefully. wearing one glove each in the cold wind.
"We reached the steep section quickly and moved singly. Almost immediately it began to snow and soon the visibility was down to a few yards. There was little chance of losing our route, especially on the rock pitch where we had left an ice screw in as protection. Now the storm was in full spate and we had to shorten the pitches to make use of the leader’s rapidly filling steps. Hill decided to attempt a direct descent of the difficult ice section at the top of the couloir and chopped steps with gusto whilst I belayed with a half-planted ice axe. Half way across, he fell out of the steps and swung gracefully across the couloir. I was scared of the insecure belay and terrified when he fell again. We retreated gingerly to the bivouac ledge. but a night at 20,300 ft. without protection was unthinkable. So we had to tackle the gendarme to regain our ascent route. New powder snow overlay verglas on the rocks and I was grateful for Hill's lead and top rope to safer ground. It was 6 p.m. and by now the snow conditions made the couloir highly dangerous. We had to pick a way down the desperately steep knife-edge of snow separating the main and subsidiary couloirs; it seemed the only way of avoiding the avalanche danger. Despite the piercing wind, new snow lay more than a foot deep over the old and we had to kick great buckets at every step. Our ridge gave out onto rock, necessitating a traverse into the minor couloir; in Rolleiflex Couloir an avalanche roared down but we stopped only to shudder.
"Later an avalanche in our couloir piled up around us and we clung grimly to our buried axes. Hill warned of the frostbite danger and I sucked my fingers. He had nipped the end of his 6ngers but noticed in time to warn me and prevent further damage.
"We were very tired and felt our way down cautiously in the gloom. Rocks appeared and disappeared, vague landmarks in a sea of nothing. Nothing above save unstable snow; nothing below save a gaping bergschrund; nothing to the left save the shadow of a rock rib. and to the right only an indistinguishable shape. Hill thought it was the bergschrund and we traversed laboriously over to it – only to find .html rock rib. So we traversed back and down; the slope was easier now, but our feet were like lumps of lead. It had stopped snowing but our beards were frozen, duvets encrusted in snow and boots unrecognisable. Downwards, always downwards until the real bergschrund loomed before us, just a black line with nothing to be seen below. Hill jumped and landed 20 ft. lower. My more modest leap took me almost as far and I wanted to rest as I landed, never to move again. But the danger was not entirely over and we had to struggle down the knee-deep avalanche debris, down the snowfield and the glacier towards the pale silhouette of a familiar ridge, down to the camp. There were crevasses hereabouts – would we be able to see them? Better not risk it, skirt round the area, come on the camp from the other side.
"We staggered on until we could go no further, then filled our lungs for a long shout. Silence – then an answering shout not a 100 yards away. A light – Wangyal almost set the tent on fire – and we trundled exhausted into the welcome refuge. It was 11.30 p.m. The camp was in an uproar of congratulations and relief. Water. Crampons off. Sleep."
So Papsura had been climbed. On June 5th Payne and Henty left for the valley while the remainder awaited the arrival of the stretcher party on June 8th. This was the start of a precarious ride for Pettigrew and an exhausting carry for the porters. Fixed ropes were placed above Advance Base along a steep and avalanche prone traverse but progress was still difficult in the soft snow. It took four days to reach Base Camp over the 15,000 ft. Pass of Animals, and it was a further three days over the 11,000 ft. pass into the Kulu valley. On June 16th Pettigrew’s dislocated hip was popped back into place in the Manali hospital and he was encased in four feet of plaster from neck to toe. It was then 17 days from the time of the accident – but members of the party would remember Papsura for a considerable time to come.
Members of expedition: R. G. Pettigrew (leader) (A.C.), C. J. Henty (Australian) (H.C.), G. Hill (Australian) (N.Z.A.C.). C. Pritchard (C.U.M.C.). M. J. Payne (C.U.M.C.), J. E. Ashburner (C.U.M.C.).
High altitude porters: Wangyal (Ladakhi), Pasang Lakpa (Sherpa).
We regret to announce that Geoffrey Hill, together with Suresh Kumar of Bombay and Sherpa Pemba of Sikkin, suffocated in their small tent, in heavy snow at Camp 1 (c. 15,000 ft.) overnight on about October 25th, 1967. They were attempting Mukerbeh (c. 20,000 ft.) in Kulu Himalaya.