direction as high as possible up a magnificent glacier he had discovered the previous day, and try to see Annapurna over the top of the Great Barrier.
THE ANNAPURNA RANGE –
according to the map of the Indian Survey, with the Tilicho Pass incorrectly situated
.
On the morning of the 12th the weather was magnificent. Ichac explained to Angtharkay that they would go up together in the direction of the Muktinath Himal. At 7 o’clock they reached the cairn built the day before; at 8.30, with clouds beginning to cover the sky, they set foot upon a gently sloping glacier and started to climb it. A layer of new snow covered the ice and made the going slow. The altimeter rose gradually. They came to a zone of crevasses.
It was not the moment to embark upon anything difficult but simply to get as high as possible in the shortest possible time. Here and there a few steps had to be cut in the ice, but the difficult bits were short, and finally they emerged on to the upper slopes. They reached the ridge in thick mist.
Where was Annapurna? Visibility was nil. Ichac did not even know exactly where he was himself. He waited in vain for an improvement in the weather. It was 12.30 and the altimeter registered 20,300 feet. They did not suffer badly from breathlessness, which showed that they were beginning to get into training. This point reached by Ichac was the highest so far attained by the expedition, and was our first summit of over 20,000 feet.
THE ANNAPURNA RANGE –
shown correctly
.
The weather did not improve, and at 3.15 they began the descent, following in the tracks made on the way up which remained visible in spite of the sleet. It was 4.30 when they reached the camp. Here they found the leader of the Expedition snoring heavily in his sleeping-bag! Now just what had happened?
At Manangbhot, at dawn on the 11th, the little party had wakened with difficulty. After a frugal breakfast Phutharkay went off with his sack and my note to Ichac. Rébuffat and myself, with Pansy, left shortly afterwards to go down the valley of the Marsyandi Khola in search of our elusive Annapurna.
Ahead of us, and a good distance off, a peak stood out which we identified as Manaslu. Our intention was to skirt round the Great Barrier as far as possible. But we had to be back at Manangbhot that evening. At midday the little village of Chindi came into view and beyond it the valley narrowed and I could guess at the deep gorges that enclosed the river. To go further would have been useless. I was quite sure we were not on the right track – Annapurna was not down in these parts.
The inhabitants, and the shikaris from whom we asked for information, had never heard tell of it. They explained at some length that the word meant ‘Goddess of the Harvests’. There was nothing for it but to return to Manangbhot, which we had to do on empty stomachs as our provisions were all finished.
Clouds collected over Tchongor and Sepchia and prevented us from taking the photographs which we should have liked to bring back as evidence. A halt was indicated to give them a chance to clear. Everybody found a comfortable nook, and Rébuffat was not long in falling asleep. Pansy smoked his last cigarettes. I kept watch like a sentry ready to give the alarm the moment our summits should appear.
At last Tchongor and Sepchia came out of the mist. Rébuffat took photographs and then we went on our way back to Manangbhot.
It was hot and we found it pretty hard going. Every time we met anyone Pansy would ask about the possibility of getting some provisions, but it was hopeless. The afternoon was well advanced when we reached our barn.
‘So we’re going back empty-handed,’ said Rébuffat dejectedly.
‘At least we know it’s not over here.’
‘We’ll have to get back at once.’
‘There’s scarcely any food. Take what there is and push off with Pansy to Muktinath over the Thorungse. That will save you the ascent to the Tilicho Pass and you’ll be back a day
THE ANNAPURNA RANGE –
according to the map of the Indian Survey, with the Tilicho Pass incorrectly situated
.
On the morning of the 12th the weather was magnificent. Ichac explained to Angtharkay that they would go up together in the direction of the Muktinath Himal. At 7 o’clock they reached the cairn built the day before; at 8.30, with clouds beginning to cover the sky, they set foot upon a gently sloping glacier and started to climb it. A layer of new snow covered the ice and made the going slow. The altimeter rose gradually. They came to a zone of crevasses.
It was not the moment to embark upon anything difficult but simply to get as high as possible in the shortest possible time. Here and there a few steps had to be cut in the ice, but the difficult bits were short, and finally they emerged on to the upper slopes. They reached the ridge in thick mist.
Where was Annapurna? Visibility was nil. Ichac did not even know exactly where he was himself. He waited in vain for an improvement in the weather. It was 12.30 and the altimeter registered 20,300 feet. They did not suffer badly from breathlessness, which showed that they were beginning to get into training. This point reached by Ichac was the highest so far attained by the expedition, and was our first summit of over 20,000 feet.
THE ANNAPURNA RANGE –
shown correctly
.
The weather did not improve, and at 3.15 they began the descent, following in the tracks made on the way up which remained visible in spite of the sleet. It was 4.30 when they reached the camp. Here they found the leader of the Expedition snoring heavily in his sleeping-bag! Now just what had happened?
At Manangbhot, at dawn on the 11th, the little party had wakened with difficulty. After a frugal breakfast Phutharkay went off with his sack and my note to Ichac. Rébuffat and myself, with Pansy, left shortly afterwards to go down the valley of the Marsyandi Khola in search of our elusive Annapurna.
Ahead of us, and a good distance off, a peak stood out which we identified as Manaslu. Our intention was to skirt round the Great Barrier as far as possible. But we had to be back at Manangbhot that evening. At midday the little village of Chindi came into view and beyond it the valley narrowed and I could guess at the deep gorges that enclosed the river. To go further would have been useless. I was quite sure we were not on the right track – Annapurna was not down in these parts.
The inhabitants, and the shikaris from whom we asked for information, had never heard tell of it. They explained at some length that the word meant ‘Goddess of the Harvests’. There was nothing for it but to return to Manangbhot, which we had to do on empty stomachs as our provisions were all finished.
Clouds collected over Tchongor and Sepchia and prevented us from taking the photographs which we should have liked to bring back as evidence. A halt was indicated to give them a chance to clear. Everybody found a comfortable nook, and Rébuffat was not long in falling asleep. Pansy smoked his last cigarettes. I kept watch like a sentry ready to give the alarm the moment our summits should appear.
At last Tchongor and Sepchia came out of the mist. Rébuffat took photographs and then we went on our way back to Manangbhot.
It was hot and we found it pretty hard going. Every time we met anyone Pansy would ask about the possibility of getting some provisions, but it was hopeless. The afternoon was well advanced when we reached our barn.
‘So we’re going back empty-handed,’ said Rébuffat dejectedly.
‘At least we know it’s not over here.’
‘We’ll have to get back at once.’
‘There’s scarcely any food. Take what there is and push off with Pansy to Muktinath over the Thorungse. That will save you the ascent to the Tilicho Pass and you’ll be back a day
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