Camp Six by Frank Smythe

Author:Frank Smythe
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Vertebrate Publishing
Published: 2013-11-08T00:00:00+00:00

1. Uli Wieland died on Nanga Parbat in 1934. Requiescat in Pace.[back]

– Chapter Twelve –

Supplying Camp 4

During the night of May 14 we had one of the worst gales I remember. The wind must have reached hurricane force, and how the tents stood up to it I do not know. At the height of the storm a gust lifted the arctic tent bodily in spite of its strong guy ropes and the weight of several men inside it, and for a moment we pictured it bowling merrily down the glacier like a captive balloon broken loose from its moorings. Fortunately only a strut was blown in and another forced out of place. Eric received the collapsed side of the tent on top of him, and it was pitiable to hear him give his opinion of the episode in a hoarse whisper, all that was left of his voice. What with the howl of the gale, the volleying snow and the pistol-like cracking of the canvas, sleep was impossible.

As before, the gale did not drop with the dawn if anything it increased, stripping the snow from the glacier in sheets and ruthlessly exterminating every step on the North Col slopes.

At ten the wind abated, and Bill, Eric, Wyn, Hugo and I with twelve porters set off to establish ourselves at Camp 4. After our long, boring and uncomfortable time at Camp 3a, it was a great relief to leave it for a higher camp, and all of us hoped devoutly that we would not have to return to Camp 3a until someone had climbed the mountain.

The wind was still blowing hard enough to make the climb unpleasant, but once again the porters went splendidly. It was unthinkable convoying them one by one up the rope ladder in the cold wind, so a quicker method was evolved, and all of them were tied together on one long rope separated from one another at such intervals that there were never more than two on the ladder at the same time. Wyn bravely volunteered to see them down again, and I would have stopped to help him, but for almost the first time in my life I had lost all sensation in my feet. Fearing frostbite, I trudged up as quickly as possible to the camp and, finding the arctic tent already erected, pulled off my boots, which were frozen as hard as stones and began a vigorous massage. Circulation returned gradually and half an hour later all danger of frostbite had passed.

We all agreed that Camp 4 was preferable to Camp 3a owing to its more sheltered position, and our only anxiety was the possibility, at present remote, of an avalanche falling on to it from the steep slope immediately above. But our position, with its view along the Himalayas to Kangchenjunga and north-eastwards over the snow-covered peaks into the brown uplands of Tibet, more than compensated us for this hypothetical disadvantage.

Unlike members of former expeditions, we were able to enjoy food and

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