In 100 years, Everest has beckoned the brave, reckless and adventurist

Mount Everest, the magnificent 29,029 ft tall Himalayan peak in Nepal, continues to be the holy grail of climbers, alpinists and adventurists who are in search of a high. The 100-year-old history of Everest-climbing is replete with stories of valour, desire, dreams and man’s unquenchable thirst to attain the unattainable.

Expeditions to the top of the mountain have taken a heavy toll with more than 300 people having perished in the icy reaches since the 1930s. The toll had risen in recent years due to commercial expeditions mounted by untrained climbers. Clients crowd the ascent route though the number of permits issued has been cut down by Nepal,  for two years now,  after the dramatic picture of a traffic jam atop the Everest was put out by Nirmal Purja, the famous climber-sherpa. Purja has climbed the 14 tallest mountains in the world.

Aspiration of thousands

Nevertheless, Everest-climbing is a dream for thousands across the world and the height of the majestic peak continues to taunt climbers. Several books written on the assault on the Everest continue to be classics of adventure-literature, perhaps the most famous among them being the thrilling and tragic tale Into Thin Air, by Jon Krakauer, though there are various other gripping stories of climbs, disasters, deaths and determination to ascend the most dangerous mountain on the planet.

A little known fact is that the first official effort to climb the Everest was made by Lord Curzon, India’s Viceroy between 1899 and 1905, in 1905. The point finds a mention in a letter he wrote to an accomplished mountaineer.

After suggesting an expedition, Curzon wrote, “I would be prepared to lend every aid the government can give to a thoroughly well-appointed climbing party…”  It was only in 1921 that the first expedition to the highest peak was mounted by the British, who feared the Germans would reach there first, though the second expedition next year is considered the first official climb.

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In 1921, George Mallory and his climbing partner Guy Bollock “reached a high point of 23,000 feet” on a glacial col separating the North Ridge from an adjacent 7,000 metre peak called Changtse.

Mallory returned next year, driven by the same fatal desire that drove many to the Everest – some to glory, others to their doom. The 1922 expedition was led by General Charles Bruce along with Malory and others, in which the first attempt was made to take oxygen cylinders up the mountain. However, Malory believed that using oxygen was no fun. The mission failed. Malory tried again and perished in 1924 along with his colleague, Sandy Irvine, who also had a camera.

In The Third Pole: My Everest Climb to Find the Truth about Mallory and Irvine, Mark Synott chronicles the effort he and his team made to find the bodies and get the camera which Irvine had, to see if they had indeed climbed the top. Malory’s body was found earlier, but Irvine’s body wasn’t traced. So the mystery of whether they actually summited Everest remains.

Beyond reporting duties

Five years back, the New York Times, in an awe-inspiring journalistic venture, mounted an expedition to find the bodies of three Bengali climbers who had perished during their descent in 2016. The benumbing article, Deliverance from 27,000 ft, tells us how two climbers, Gautam Ghosh and Paresh Nath, were abandoned near the top. Among the others, Subhas Paul died and Sunita Hazra, the only woman of the doomed eight-person expedition, and the guides, survived.

“Mount Everest occupies a rare spot in the collective imagination — a misty mix of wonder, reverence and trepidation. Hundreds of people successfully and safely reach the summit and return home with inspirational tales of conquest and perseverance,” the NTY article says.

In India, Bengal is the leading state for mountaineering with a “vibrant climbing culture”, according to NYT. Bengal has a rich tradition of mountaineering, a world-class mountaineering institute and climbing clubs across the state. Darjeeling occupies a special place in Everest history since all the early expeditions took off from this very place.

Bizarre human nature

Amidst all the thrilling, pulsating narratives about the world’s highest peak, one book, The Moth and the Mountain: A True Story of Love, War and Everest by Ed Caesar, stands out for its study of bizarre human nature.

It is the story of an eccentric, Maurice Wilson, who was 35 then and fresh out of the war with “machine gun scars the skin on his left arm and back”. This account stands out not just for its tragedy that was foretold,  but also about the inexplicable call that drives men and women to the Everest, where beauty, might and tragedy exists as if in a twilight zone.

Wilson’s plan was to walk 300 miles from Darjeeling to the north side of the Everest in Tibet and ascend alone and thus take credit for becoming the first person to summit  the peak. “He was interested in the power of the human will and the motions of the soul. Everest was a job he felt was within him,” Caesar writes in his  gripping biography of Wilson.

Before he set out on this eccentric and ruinous expedition, Wilson had no climbing experience. But he was hell bent on reaching the peak. He read all reports about the Everest which appeared in The Times, including the 1924 article on Mallory’s expedition.

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The early years of aviation were causing widespread excitement in the western world, especially the non-stop New York-Paris flight by Charles Lindberg. Wilson decided to reach India in a second hand Moth which he bought from a Flying Circus. He trained to fly but never achieved any expertise because he practised for only two months, guided by the hurry to fly to the foothills of the Everest by April that year.

Most reckless flight ever

Wilson arrived in India after piloting the most reckless flight ever undertaken, sometimes landing in forbidden places, often just escaping a crash. Crossing the Gulf and landing illegally in various airports, he finally landed in Karachi and then flew across North India, stopping at Allahabad, from where he stole some fuel stored in the aerodrome and finally landed  his Moth in Bihar.

From Darjeeling, Wilson had hired three Bhutias (a community of Sikkimese people) to accompany him in his doomed mission, the most experienced of them being a climber and porter called Tsering.  Wilson disguised himself in a Chinese outfit because they had to pass through Tibet illegally. The entire trip was shrouded in secrecy. On the first night of the walk to Tibet, they were stopped by a Chinese policeman who fortunately did not search the disguised Wilson. The 300 miles of walking followed the Teesta river and bisected the peaks of Kangchengyao and Chomioma, both more than 22,000 feet tall in north Sikkim.

To cut the long story short, Wilson did not survive the expedition. His last moments are as poignant as any story of human tragedy, drive and eccentricity, and of course, the call of Everest. Wilson had left behind his guides at base Camp III since he wanted to climb alone. “The next day, Wilson set off alone for Camp IV, having said his farewells to Tewant and Rinzing. The wind was so hard and cold it nearly cut him in two. He made it halfway up the Col, turned back and pitched his lightweight tent near its base,” the book reads.

Wilson perished there. The guides remained at Camp III for two weeks as they had promised. Then they set out in search of Wilson, whose stone-cold body was found lying only a few hundred feet from their tent at the foot of an icefall.

(Binoo John is a senior journalist and the author of the latest book: Top Game: Winning, Losing and a New Understanding of Sport).