Introduction

IN YEARS to come people will look back upon the nineteen fifties as the Golden Age of Himalayan Mountaineering, the highest peaks in the world were being climbed one after the other by mountaineers of many nations, Britain foremost among them.  There is small Wonder that the keen climbers in the Club were eager to share the endeavour and the glory, but by 1955 it was obvious that our candidates for inclusion in the big national Expeditions such as Everest and Kanchenjunga were being rightly passed over in favour of men Who had shown that they could go well at over 20,000 feet. At the Annual Dinner on 19th November, 1955, I suggested that the only way Y.R.C. men could get high level experience was for us to organise our own Himalayan Expedition.

Charles Evans, fresh from Kanchenjunga, was the principal guest and, as I sat down, he turned and asked Crosby Fox if he wanted to go to the Himalayas.  “Of course,” said Crosby, “Then why don’t you go-?” rejoined Charles in that quiet, forthright way of his.

It needed no more than this spark to set the train of powder alight, and Fox wrote to me the very next day, full of enthusiasm suggesting that we should start at once to plan for a four man expedition to attempt some technically difficult peak, about 23,000 feet, in the Spring of 1957.  The Committee responded with equal enthusiasm, Fox was asked to lead the Expedition, he consented, and the hunt was up.  Although we did not realize it at the time this was to be the first Himalayan Expedition sponsored by a single club.

Three problems faced us at once (1) Team (2) Objective (3) Finance.

We had plenty of capable men in the Club, but had we sufficient who could get away for four or five months and afford not only £200 towards the cost, but the loss of earnings entailed!

It didn’t take long to find out that we had, indeed the difficulty was not in finding a party, but in selecting one from the first rate men available.  The final team selected were:—Crosby Fox, leader, George Spenceley, deputy leader, Wilfred Anderson, expedition secretary, Dan Jones, medical officer, Arthur Tallon and R. B. Wharldall.  It was a sad blow when a few weeks before the Expedition was due to leave, Wharldall, who had done a great deal of work towards the Expedition, found himself unable to join the party.  Fortunately Maurice Wilson was able to make up the team.

The objective was discussed with Charles Evans, who after a good deal of thought, put forward three suggestions with pros and cons for each.  The Jugal Himal was finally decided upon mainly because it was the last area in Nepal where most of the peaks were unclimbed and about which very little was known.  The report of the Ladies’ Scottish Himalayan Expedition, the only party to visit the area, told of unlimited virgin peaks up to 23,000 feet.  But these peaks were indeed formidable and from photographs it appeared that only one of them possessed a reason­able route, all else seemed utterly unclimbable.  As an added challenge however this was the highest mountain of the group, a peak of 23,240 feet situated on the Tibetan Nepalese frontier.  Although its height had been established and its position fixed by the Indian Survey this mountain had no name.  But the Sherpas of the Ladies’ Scottish Himalayan Expedition had christened it the Great White Peak and as such it was always referred to.

If any of us thought that Newspapers or Publishers would fall over each other in offering large sums of money for the exclusive news rights of the Expedition we were quickly disillusioned.  Expeditions were legion and no longer front page news.  Apart from £100 from one National Paper, and many offers to pay for articles when seen and approved, we were thrown upon our own resources for the raising of the substantial funds required.

A grant was made from Club Funds, members of the Club gave magnificently as individuals, and the Mount Everest Foundation not only gave us a very generous grant but backed up our application to enter Nepal.  An appeal to North Country firms and friends of the Club brought in £441, and a good deal of food and equipment was either given or supplied at ” part cost.”

Especially welcome was the unstinted help which was offered to us by members of many other Himalayan Expeditions and the staff at the British Embassy in Katmandu.  One felt part of a great brotherhood, and one realised, as never before, that once a project is started that fires the imagination people are not only willing, but eager to help.

But it was not all plain sailing. At times things seemed to be at a standstill, time slipped by, and everybody felt frustrated.  We bought too much of this, or were short of that, the tents were wrong and had to be sent back, and there were arguments about the methods of packing.

The closure of the Suez Canal in September, 1956, made necessary a rearrangement of plans and Air Travel added con­siderably to the cost, while entry into Nepal was complicated by new government regulations which included a substantial entrance fee for climbing parties, an added financial burden that we could ill afford.

To keep expenses down all the packing cases were made by members of the Expedition as well as packed and catalogued by them.  The greatest assistance was given by Frank Inman, Tallon’s step-brother, who allowed both his house and work­shops to be used for this purpose.  But in spite of this finance was a constant headache as it was clear that we had underestimated the cost.

Permission to enter Nepal came through at last, and in January, 1957, 3½ tons of gear was shipped by way of the Cape.  Early on the morning of 17th March, the team left London Airport fit and eager for the fray.

In the light of the final tragedy many of us must have asked ourselves, as I have done, ” Were we right in encouraging them to go ?” There is no doubt in my mind. The answer is ” Yes.”

In mountaineering, perhaps more than in any other phase of human endeavour, the line dividing triumph from disaster is a very fine one.  How near to success they were we know from Crosby Fox’s last report, yet when the avalanche killed their friends and shattered their hopes, the survivors rose to the emergency and in spite of subsequent misfortune did what had to be done with courage and determination.

As Crosby’s father wrote afterwards — “Mountaineering is like the time I spent in sailing ships, striving to face nature in all her moods and to overcome her worst.  If it were not for the adventurous the world would be a sad, dull place, even if you have to die while following your bent.  I hope some of your men will go back and climb that ‘Great White Peak ‘.”