My Climbs in the Alps and Caucasus (1908)/Introduction
INTRODUCTION.
The year 1894 was a momentous one in the life of the author of this book; during its passage all the varied energies of his life seemed to gather themselves up in one great effort toward outward expression.
Then it was that the manifold problems of economic science began to exercise so profound a fascination over his mind that he determined to abandon his ordinary business at the earnest opportunity and to devote himself wholly to the investigation of those economical questions with whose intricacies he had already closely grappled.
It was in the winter of this year that he wrote this book, and during its whole course he was engaged in mapping out and organising his long-projected expedition to the Himalayas. Visions of a fair future now opened before him, and although he calmly awaited the realisation of his hopes, he was nevertheless intensely eager to experience their fulfilment in the not very distant future.
Those who desire to know more of the personality of the man can read in these pages the Memoir contributed by Mr. J, A. Hobson in affectionate remembrance of his friend. Many, no doubt, are already acquainted with the Memoir written by M. Maurice Paillon in "Mes Escalades dans les Alpes et la Caucase," where he testifies to his enthusiastic admiration for the author. It is particularly gratifying that these Memoirs should be written by friends who knew him under entirely different aspects, the one as a student in economic science, the other as a mountaineer.
Much might be written of his social and domestic life, for it was here that his individuality was most strongly marked, and here also, as among the peaks, it was absolutely impossible for him to walk in the "beaten tracks." For society and its conventionalities he cared little, and although by no means an ascetic he loved most of all, during his leisure hours, to surround himself with books and maps, and even now the lines traced on his maps testify to projected journeys and ascents that he had hoped to carry through in future years.
My husband's greatly honoured and respected friend and adviser, Mr. Douglas W. Freshfield, addressed the following words to the members of the Alpine Club in December, 1895:—
"I had never climbed with Mummery, but I regarded it as one of the greatest compliments ever paid me that he asked me to go to the Himalayas with him.
"I had been in communication with him for years; he had followed me in many of my spring rambles in the Maritime Alps, Algeria, and elsewhere.
"I knew something of the man, and, as we all did, I thoroughly liked and trusted him. He was not only fearless and brilliant as a climber; he possessed an original, strong, and keen intelligence.
"In his talk as in his books, he carried you on, whether sympathising or disagreeing with his mood and dicta, by a certain vigorous enthusiasm and directness.
"He was a stimulating companion.
"His untimely death is a grievous loss to the club."
Nearly fourteen years have elapsed since a certain winter evening when my husband threw on to the table a bundle of papers, and at the same time announced his intention of writing an account of his climbing experiences, with a view to publication.
He was usually careless and indifferent in recording his ascents, and many of his notes were of the most meagre description; very frequently they consisted of a few details scribbled on the back of a hotel bill, or pencilled on a visiting card, and these memoranda were probably jotted down whilst spending the night in some high bivouac; very often they were smudged and smeared, and difficult to decipher; however, by the aid of his powerful memory, and with his usual tenacity of purpose, these notes were collected, enlarged, and thrown into literary form, and during the month of June, 1895, they were published under the title of "My Climbs in the Alps and Caucasus." The hours spent in collating and arranging the materials for this book were altogether happy ones; the retrospect of these past climbs awoke in him more keenly than ever an overwhelming desire for further travel and adventure; his old passionate love for mountaineering took fresh life as he felt once more the intense fascination of the high peaks.
"My Climbs in the Alps and Caucasus" was primarily designed by the author for the amusement and information of his personal friends and a limited number of climbers only; but in a very short time the volume found its way into the hands of a much larger circle of general readers: as a natural consequence, the first edition was soon exhausted, and on, a second being issued, kindly messages of congratulation flowed in from all sides, but the knowledge that the book was well received was destined never to reach him.
About a week after the publication of the book, my husband, accompanied by Mr. Hastings and Dr. Norman Collie, started on a journey to India, with the idea of climbing in the Himalayas, the ultimate aim of the party being to attempt the ascent of Nanga Parbat. Several times previously he had organised and planned an expedition to the Himalaya, but on each occasion unforeseen circumstances had invariably frustrated his efforts at the very moment of their seeming realisation.
Year after year went by without affording him an opportunity of carrying out his plans, and as the seasons came round he returned again and again to the Alps, and in later years he twice visited the Caucasus also ; yet in spite of his unbounded delight in these familiar mountains, his unquenchable desire to look on the great Himalayan peaks remained un gratified, although he never relinquished the idea that the time must surely come when his hopes and ambitions would reach their fulfilment.
The long awaited opportunity came on June 20, 1895, when he sailed with his companions for Bombay. The party started in the highest spirits; he writes: "The ambition of my life is within my grasp"—"there will be no need for anxiety; the expedition is much less formidable than the first Caucasian."
It is only with a very deep sense of reticence and reserve that I present for publication in this volume some extracts from my husband's private letters to myself. I only do so in the hope that the interest in his book may be thereby enhanced, and that those who had looked forward to hearing some account of this expedition on his return may read from his own pen some of his experiences, and some of the hopes and fears that animated him on the eve of his first attempt on Nanga Parbat.
These extracts are merely fragments gleaned from my husband's letters, and written to me by him during his journey through India ; they were often written amidst great difficulties, and in no case were any of them intended for publication.
Woola Lake,
July 10, 1895.
We have had a rare time, driving from Rawal Pindi to Baramula. The tongas are queer little two-wheeled low carts, with delightfully easy springs. For the first fifty miles there are relays of horses every three or four miles, and you go at a tremendous pace.
We did one or two miles, coming down from Murree to the Jehlam Valley, in three minutes; horses galloping like fury.
We got a good deal delayed, as the monsoon broke just as we got to Murree, and the rain came down in thick sheets, so that a good deal of earth and stuff got washed on to the road and one bridge was broken.
Thanks to the labours of numerous coolies, our tongas were hauled over bodily, but it quite spoilt the pace.
We met heaps of English people—in fact, on no road in the Alps have I seen so many travellers.
At Murree I called on the General, and found him very jolly.
He is going to send us two Ghurkas, and is instrcuting the officer in command at Abbottabad and Chilas to do anything we want.
The Viceroy, we find, has instructed the Resident that we are coming, and our progress will be regal!
Near Baramula we met Major Bruce.
He had come all the way from Abbottabad (120 miles each way) to Baramula to get our ponies, servants, cooks, and such-like ready for us.
He has got us twelve ponies, and a cook, and a man to look after the coolies, and has bought us rice, flour, &c.
Unluckily he had to take his leave earlier, and is now bound to be back with his regiment.
We are now running through a most gorgeous lake in a sort of gondola. The whole of the water is covered with water-lilies, and looks like a great, yellow, shimmering plain; the distances are beautiful; lines of trees and well-formed hills, and in the extreme distance snow-peaks.
Swans and swallows are flying about no end. We must certainly come out and cruise round this lake together.
As far as sketching goes, it licks any place I have ever seen : huge distances, blue hills, black masses of trees, and masses of cloud, but beyond all this a sea of water-lilies.
We are all as fit as possible, and we shall be very comfortable.
When one can hire a horse at 6d. a day and a man at 2os. a month, there is no object in going short.
We had two rival merchants on board, and we can get anything from Bass's beer to Huntley & Palmer's biscuits, from tinned meat to English flour, sent anywhere.
One of these merchants insists on giving me an order on a man at Astor, and another at Skardu, to supply me with unlimited rupees, fresh vegetables, and fruit, and anything else I might want, payment to be ultimately made by me when I get back.
Every one is going far out of his way to help us; and as for climbing difficulties, there are no serious ones to encounter, and though the rarity of the air may bother us, it can't hurt us in any way.
I rather expect we shall do about three weeks' walking and exploring after we get to Astor, as we may fairly expect better weather in August.
Now it is distinctly better than average Swiss weather, but not so good as I expect to have it for Nanga.
Tashing,
July 17, 1895.
We have just got to the foot of our peak. The journey has been long, but very luxurious, and we have had all our tents and luggage carried up here. With porters at 4d. a day it is not necessary to limit one's baggage.
Our cook is a brilliant success, and feeds us in great splendour.
Our other men are to-day occupied in washing our clothes, though I doubt if the results will be all that can be desired.
We came across the man who got the two guns over the Shandur Pass (Relief of Chitral). He made us feed and camp at his place, and had the mountain battery paraded for our delectation. I rather expect he will look us up in a day or two.
Our first business will be to get into condition. I expect we shall start for an 18,000 or 19,000-ft. peak to-morrow ; there are plenty about here, but mostly snqw grinds. However, that is good for the wind.
I don't think there will be any serious mountaineering difficulties on Nanga, and the peak is much freer from hanging glaciers than I had expected. I fancy the ascent will be mainly a question of endurance.
We are in excellent health, but our legs don't work so well as they should, so we shall devote three weeks to having walks.
You may expect, therefore, to get a wire about a month from date (17th August) or a few days later.
Our expedition has been notified to all the local authorities, and instructions given to help us in any way we want. You can, therefore, picture us well provided and taken care of.
The English population is much larger than I imagined at Astor—there is the Assistant Resident of Gilgit (Colonel Stewart) and two post-office officials, and similarly all through.
Ladies travel freely up and down, and, as you may imagine, take very big caravans.
Our big camp is fixed under some willows.
There is a small stream a short distance behind, and a fairly flat stretch of meadows extending along the bank of the torrent for three or four miles.
If you could only be transported here without the labour of the journey, you would like it no end.
Don't be anxious about us. We shall not get into any difficulties.
We had a great spree yesterday, building a bridge over the Rupal torrent. The old boys, in their queer clothes, and with their merry faces, made a scrumptious picture; one of them subsequently carried my heavy box up an awful moraine, across the end of a glacier, on to here, and seemed to think nothing of it!
The cuckoo and lark are both about, and it sounds most home-like.
July 26, 1895.
Camp life out here is a great spree. One has every luxury, and men run errands, and fetch and carry at every turn.
So far we have had a little climb on a small rock peak.
Crossed the Mazeno Pass (a native pass); crossed thence into the Diamarai Valley (uninhabited, but beautiful in the extreme); glorious trees (mostly birch and pine); thickets of wild roses; heaps of flowers and undergrowth.
After a day's rest we came back by a very long pass, affording one or two bits of interesting rock-climbing. Unluckily it led out the wrong side of the chain, and we had to finish up with recrossing the Mazeno, as we had no food reserves.
We were from 15,000 to 18,000 ft. up all day long, and felt as fresh as daisies, so I don't think we are going to be bothered much by the rarity of the air.
We discovered an absolutely safe way up Nanga. Easy glacier, up which coolies can carry our camp, and thence onward, a broad snow and rock ridge right up to the top.
Bruce came up yesterday, and is awfully jovial; he brought up the two Ghurkas lent us by Gen. Lockhart, so our camp is most extensive.
We are going to make our way across to the Diamarai, doing one or two good passes, and shall then begin operations on Nanga. I feel fairly confident of getting up, and you need feel no anxiety of any sort.
The weather out here, from a Swiss point of view, is almost perfect, though as clouds and a shatter of snow form on Nanga about one day out of three towards i p.m., Bruce thinks the weather not quite as it should be. As a matter of fact, the cloud is so thin, and lasts so short a time, that it is almost immaterial to us; indeed, it is a convenient parasol.
The sun is a bit hotter than we are used to, but by wearing two hats, the one over the other (a usual dodge out here), and by putting a lump of snow in between, one keeps beautifully cool, an occasional trickle of water down one's back feeling quite pleasant.
I am as fit as I have ever been in my life; you need not feel the least anxiety.
Never have I been with better men, or climbed on easier ground, while for personal comfort nothing could be better. I expect you will get a wire before this gets home.
Whether we get up Nanga or not, the trip is well worth doing.
August 4 1895.
There is no mistake about the rarity of the air, it touches one up no end. I think the sun, also, has something to do with it.
So far we have done no great deeds, though we got to a height of 20,500 ft. on the way here.
Bruce and a Ghurka were with us. We tried to make a direct pass to this valley (Diamarai, north-west of Nanga), but, on getting to the ridge, found that it led down to the Rupal side of the main chain.
We in consequence camped a second night (very short supplies of food), and came over the Mazeno Pass to a little hamlet, where we got a sheep and unlimited milk, and happily found one of our coolies, who had got ill on the way to the Diamarai, and most happily he had a bag of flour. The Ghurka made us excellent chulpaties, and we feasted like anything.
The next morning we started at daybreak, and made a little pass of 16,500 ft. across to the Diamarai.
On the way down our shikari met us with a great can of delicious milk and a bag of chulpaties.
He is a very jovial old chap, and looks after us like anything.
To-morrow I am going to start on an exploration of Nanga itself.
There is a nice little ridge of rock (broken) leading up between two glaciers. I think it is easy enough for Chilasi porters.
If so I shall fix a camp at the very top, about 18,000 ft.
From that point, with the two Ghurkas, one can push a camp to 22,000 ft., at the very foot of the final peak, which on this side is easy rock.
Our camp is palatial, plates and dishes, knives and forks, four tents, cook, and Deputy Lumbardar of Bonda, whence we draw supplies, three coolies to fetch and carry, shikari and deputy to fit up subsidiary camps, carry one's coat when it is too hot to wear it, &c., &c.
We also have four goats, two cows, a flock of sheep for mutton, dried apricots for stews. Rhubarb grows wild, and is very good cooked. Apples and pomegranates are to arrive to-morrow.
The Ghurkas act as valets whilst in camp. We expect to make our serious attack on Nanga next week (seven days from now); it will require four days, and after that we shall spend a week here, as there is another little peak, 22,000 ft. odd, we want to run in.
Possibly we shall do it first, as it is quite easy, and we still want more training.
The air is the very deuce.
The Government have put on a post wallah, and we get letters, &c., and the Deputy Resident of Gilgit, who is at Astor, keeps in touch with us and gives us news.
If we go back through Kaghan the authorities will give us an escort, as a part of the route is a little unsettled, by the Babusar Pass.
Probably, however, we shall make Srinagar.
Bruce leaves to-morrow, and I shall get him to wire you that we have postponed our attack, as it is evident we shall not get the ascent through so soon as I expected.
Very likely we may want another month's training.
So far we have not camped out high enough, but we shall not make that mistake again.
I hope you have not been nervous. We have run no risks of any sort (other than sprained ankles) on these infernal moraines.
The peaks are too big and too high for real hard climbing, and as for storms, there are none in these regions, not the symptom or ghost of one.
No driving snow on the ridges, no thunder-clouds, no fresh snow (other than the merest shatter).
I think we are bound to have the summit, as it is merely a matter of steady training to get our wind into order. We are having a real good time, and even if we fail on Nanga I shall not regret having seen these gigantic peaks and looked at the great mountains beyond Hunza and the Russian frontier.
August 9, 1895.
We find Nanga a tough nut to crack. The way up is easy enough, but it is very difficult to get our camps fixed, and the air certainly does affect one.
Unluckily the weather has all gone to pieces, and we shall have to wait for a week or so till it settles for the autumn.
Collie and I are very fit; Hastings is still bothered with a damaged heel.
I trust he will be all right in a few days.
Taken all round, it is a great spree out here, but of mountaineering, as we know it in the Alps, there is little or none.
In this air one can't do more than three or four thousand feet in a day, and that means only going where loaded coolies can go.
One of our Ghurkas is first rate.
The other climbs well, but can't carry much.
They go quite up to the average Swiss guide in style, and are as steady as possible.
We have got some of the luggage part of the way up Nanga (to 16,000 ft.), but we find it no end of a job to get it higher, as the coolies won't go over 14,500 ft., where the upper glacier begins; however, I hope we shall work it all right, as we have a good line all the way up, and are getting into better training.
I am going to do my best to bring you the top of Nanga, though I begin to have some doubts about our ultimate success.
The air is so baffling, and the sun is almost worse; it regularly takes all the strength out of one after 10 a.m.
Collie and I took up 12 lbs. of chocolate, 6 tins (2 lbs. each) of Huntley & Palmer's biscuits, Brand's soups and essence, &c., to a point 17,000 ft. up Nanga yesterday, and deposited them in watertight knapsacks.
We shall make another expedition early next week, and push these treasures to the top of a long ridge of easy rock about 20,000 ft. up.
Then a third expedition ought to get them to the base of the final peak at about 23,000 ft.
Any way, we know the road—too well!
Our chances of bagging the peak look badly enough.
Collie is not keen on it, and old Hastings has managed to get a chill, so I am left with the Ghurkas.
They are first-rate climbers and good men, but cannot afford the help of a real A.C. man. Well, I shall soon be on my way home; you must not be disappointed about Nanga.
I have had some slap-up climbs, and seen cliffs and séracs such as the Alps and Caucasus cannot touch.
Nanga on this side is 12,000 ft. of rock and ice as steep and difficult as a series of Matterhorns and Mont Blancs piled one on the other.
I should have got up, I fancy, if Ragabir (a Ghiuka) had not got ill at a critical moment, and I had to see him down.
There is no doubt the air affects us when we get beyond 18,000 ft.
To-morrow I cross a high pass with the Ghurkas to the Baldarakiote Nullah. Hastings and Collie go round with the coolies and stores.
If the NW. side of Nanga is easy we may yet pull it off, but you will have a wire before this reaches you.
This letter bears no date; it must, however, have been written on August 23rd.
On August 24th my husband and the two Ghurkas were seen for the last time.