April 1999








 


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THIRD POLE EXPEDITION
April - June 1999



29th May 1953

In those days, the challenge was just as gigantic.
32 years of unsuccessful attempts and thirteen expeditions, most of them British, had given Everest a very special aura.

In the post-war years, it became increasingly clear that the roof of the world was going to be reached soon - after all, hadn't Annapurna just become the first peak in excess of 8 000 m to be conquered three years earlier by French mountaineers? But who would be the first to climb Everest? That was the question.

Committed more than any other nation in the conquest of the great Himalayan monsters, based on its strong climbing tradition and its political domination in this part of the world, Great Britain would have taken a very dim view of anyone else conquering the coveted peak. Yet the British were almost overtaken in their endeavours by the Swiss Foundation for Mountaineering Exploration which, in 1952, had launched a gigantic dual expedition (one attempt in the springtime, followed by another in the autumn in the event of the first one failing) on the South-West Face of Everest. When our neighbours from across the Channel asked the very serious Times newspaper (which was to accompany their expedition) to find out what the alternative was in the event of the Swiss succeeding, the journalists from the London daily replied that such an eventuality was hard to envisage. Victory on any other mountain, however high it might be (they had thought of replacing Everest with Kangchenjunga, 8 598 m, the world's third highest peak), would be considered as a non-event, whatever happened on the ground.

Faithful to their tradition, for this fresh attempt, the British went to town: a gigantic organisational effort along military lines (the expedition leader, John Hunt, was the son of an officer and an officer himself in the British army) with a multitude of 350 porters for the valley, 2O hand-picked high-altitude porters, six leading climbers, a correspondent from The Times, a cameraman, two doctors, a scientist and more than seven tons of equipment. It is of interest to note that this type of overblown organisation (9 camps were set up between the base camp and the summit), prevailed after their historic victory in 1953. Whereas up until then, there had been a categorical difference of opinion between those in favour of travelling light and going "quickly", and those who considered that heavy equipment was indispensable for dealing with dangers such as this. As a result, John Hunt's expedition also saw one particular train of mountaineering thought triumph over another.

So why was this ninth attempt the first to succeed? Thanks to a combination of circumstances that was particularly favourable. First of all, the British were of the opinion that if they did not succeed this time, the race to the roof of the world would prove to be beyond them. So our cross-Channel neighbours were especially motivated, doing everything they could to ensure that the expedition was a success: the best equipment, the best climbers, the best sherpas, the best leaders, faultless organisation... Then there was Edmund Hillary, the beekeeper from New Zealand, who as one of the most gifted mountaineers of his era, was due to be part of one of the assault groups. Hillary was possessed of a determination and strength that were entirely out of the ordinary: during the final ascent on 29th May, he carried a pack weighing 30 kg on his back! What is more, from the earliest days of the expedition, he had immediately made friends with sherpa Tenzing. Their friendship came into being on the slopes of the Khumbu glacier where during the installation phase for the camps, they had the opportunity of testing one another; New Zealander constantly challenged his companion to perform feats of speed, which the Nepalese sherpa enjoyed accomplishing with no difficulty at all (he even managed to save Hillary in extremis from a crevasse into which he had inadvertently fallen).

The final assault lasted for 25 hours in all. Hillary and Tenzing, weighed down like pack-horses and with oxygen equipment strapped on, set off for the South Col (7 896 m) on 28th May at 10.30 in the morning, after their support team of three men had set off 4 hours beforehand to open up part of the route for them. The famous duo bivouacked on a narrow ledge at 8 500 metres, an altitude from which those who were unlucky not to be designated to try for the summit then climbed down. On that evening's menu there was hot lemon juice, chicken soup, sardines, dates and, supreme luxury, a tin of apricots that Hillary had wanted to take with him to celebrate the event. The next day, still kitted out like astronauts, they continued their ascent at 6.30 in the morning. The weather was clear and the cold intense. Five hours later, after risking everything on a fearfully unstable snowy slope just a hundred metres from the summit, they became the first men to conquer Everest. Tenzing then dug a small hole in the ice to place a number of offerings dedicated to Chomolungma; Hillary contented himself with laying a crucifix given to him by the expedition leader. On regaining the South Col, the beekeeping New Zealander addressed those who had remained to welcome them back thus: "Well, George, we knocked the bastard off..."

Her Gracious Majesty's subjects rounded off their adventure with panache: the telegram announcing their historic victory on Everest to the world was published in The Times on the morning of 2nd June, the day Elizabeth II, the new queen of the United Kingdom of Great Britain, was crowned...

mailto:michel.brent@skynet.be