Fifty years ago, Edmund Hillary and Tenzing Norgay were about to achieve what no other man had yet achieved: reach the summit of the highest mountain on earth. Before this, many tried with no luck. There was one expedition that although unsuccessful and tragic, inspired many climbers to come: Mallory and Irvine. Alex Stewart reflects on the recent work of Jochen Hemmleb, whose knowledge and determination were essential to the discovery of the body of Mallory on the North Face of Everest.
"I can't see myself coming down defeated..."
George Leigh Mallory, 1886 - 1924
On 1 May 1999, a group of five figures inched their way across the snow terrace on the upper North Face of Mount Everest. They were looking for the bodies of two men who had disappeared 75 years ago, whilst attempting to become the first mountaineers ever to stand on the peak of the world's highest mountain. For three quarters of a century the mystery of their final hours had remained intact. George Mallory and Andrew Irvine had been lost on Everest, the success or otherwise of their attempt on the summit unknown. Despite the uncertainty, their story remains one of the most inspiring pieces of climbing in Himalayan history.
The hunt for an answer to this, one of Everest's most enduring, romantic and enigmatic tragedies, has assumed mythic proportions. The latest figure to become embroiled in the quest to find out what really happened in the cold thin air at 28,000 feet is Jochen Hemmleb. Jochen is a quiet, unassuming man, whose mischievous smile and light voice belie an intensity of purpose uncharacteristic in one so young. At only twenty seven years old, he is already recognised as one of the leading authorities on Mount Everest's North Ridge, and the history of mountaineering in that area; his interest in Mallory and Irvine borders upon an obsession. His apartment is reputedly full of Everest related literature, and he is considered to posses one of the largest and most meticulously analyzed collections in the world. He recalls a number of occasions when he would willingly forgo food and other expenses in order to afford some early expedition report from a rare book dealer, or sleep on the floor because his bed would be buried beneath charts, maps, reports and literature concerning Everest.
A passionate climber himself, Jochen's interest in Everest was piqued when he was sixteen years old, and his parents gave him a newly published book on the disappearance of Mallory and Irvine. Drawn to real life mysteries, he had sensed even then that this one could be solved, and that he himself might be able to contribute something to the unravelling of the mystery.
Yet if Jochen is obsessed with Mallory and Irvine, he is by no means alone. Everest and its earliest explorers have continued to exercise an attraction for many climbers and armchair historians. In 1924, Mallory had allegedly quipped, "Because it's there", when quizzed as to why he wanted to scale Everest. Since then, over five hundred mountaineers, from twenty countries have stood on the roof of the world, and the mystery has shifted away from Everest the mountain, towards Mallory the man. In March 1999, the Mallory and Irvine Research Expedition, which numbered amongst others Jochen Hemmleb as expedition historian, set out for Everest, not because it was there, but because Mallory was.
The expedition team consisted of an excellent crew of men with varied and complimenting skills, who had previously summited Everest, and so would not be gripped by "summit fever" whilst searching the area one day below the summit. The expedition leader, Eric Simonson, also had a vested interest in changing the perception of Everest in the mind of the general public. All too often the history of Everest is seen to begin in 1996, with the publication of Jon Krakeur's account of a failed ascent, Into Thin Air, and the subsequent history is littered with failed attempts by commercial climbers. Simonson wanted to show that there existed a deeper, more significant and ancient history.
The fate of Mallory and Irvine was a mystery, but it was a mystery with clues. Jochen Hemmleb found himself in the role of detective. In 1933, an ice axe believed to belong to Irvine was discovered, and in 1975, a Chinese climber discovered an "English dead" at over 27,500 feet, a short distance from Camp Six. Judging by the vintage clothing and the fact that no other English climbers had gone missing pre-1975, the body had to be that of one of the 1924 expedition members. However, the identity of the body was never confirmed and its location never documented, as the Chinese climber was killed by an avalanche before he could divulge the exact details of the site.
Using cartographical details and aerial photographs, Jochen was able to pinpoint the site of the Chinese Camp Six to within thirty metres. It was to here that he directed the team of searchers. Without sufficient technical expertise to reach the summit or to safely navigate the treacherous search area, Jochen himself remained at Camp Four, and acted as a pair of distant eyes, documenting and directing the movements on the slopes above. Even so, this was a personal high point and a glorious achievement, at once intimidating and humbling.
Having located the 1975 Camp Six, the team began to scour the snow terrace. This is a misnomer, in that the "terrace" occupies an area on an exposed, wind-ravaged thirty degree slope, making movement hazardous and painstakingly slow. Almost at once the team began to find bodies. This area acts as a catching basin for falls from the North Ridge, and provides a grisly reminder of just how dangerous this climb can be, graphically illustrating man's own mortality. The broken, contorted bodies were evidence of long and terrible falls, and their discovery affected all of the team members. Radioing down to Jochen they described what they had found, and he would immediately know who it was and how they had died. His encyclopedic knowledge meant that he could pretty much describe what colour socks the unfortunate climber was wearing. However, all of the bodies were clad in contemporary climbing wear, and clearly not those of Mallory or Irvine.
Shortly before mid-day, Jochen heard the first radio call. The team were aware that other people may be listening to their conversations for early news of any finds, and had agreed on code-words for major discoveries; "Boulder" meant the discovery of Mallory or Irvine, a "Gorack" (raven) on a boulder meant the discovery of the camera lent to the two climbers, whose frozen film it was hoped would indicate whether the summit ascent had been successful.
"Last time I tried to boulder in hob-nailed boots, I fell off", went the cryptic message. No-one understood it. "Would you mind coming down for tea and Snickers?", came the second message. Again no response. "Mandatory group meeting, right now!", finally had the desired effect.
One of the group had discovered a body, the clothing on it, blasted by ice and wind, partially perished, and the exposed skin bleached porcelain white by the sun. The body had the appearance of a marble statue, and was at once identifiable as being markedly older than any other in the vicinity. Without a doubt they had discovered a man who had been clinging to the mountain side for seventy-five years.
Strangely at peace in this hostile place, the body itself did the speaking. Frozen face down into the rubble in a position of self-arrest, one leg crossed over the broken bones of the other for protection, the hands grasping the mountainside, the body told a story all of its own, answering questions which had dogged people for three-quarters of a century. They had found the body of Andrew Irvine, or so they thought. Only on closer examination of the tattered remains of the clothing, did they find a label, on which was stitched the name of the owner; G Mallory. Still the implication failed to sink in, and the surprised search party wondered why Irvine had been wearing his climbing partner's shirt. Then realization dawned. "My God, we've found George", exclaimed one flabbergasted member.
Overwhelmed by an intense feeling of reverence, the team had begun to carefully document the site. Treading a fine line between archeological investigation and affording Mallory the dignity he deserved, the team searched for some evidence of what he had accomplished. Although they failed to find the camera and its film, they did discover an altimeter, pocket-knife, monogrammed handkerchiefs, personal letters, goggles and even an unpaid bill. Jochen quips that it was at this point that they truly knew that he was a climber. After several hours of working with Mallory the person, rather than Mallory the body, the team buried him under a protective cloak of stone. Following a committal ceremony, they climbed away from this icon of Everest.
In finding Mallory's body, the team helped to construct a theory of how he had come to die. One of the pair had fallen whilst climbing roped together, pulling the other off the mountain. As they had fallen, Mallory had smashed into the cliff. The rope had snapped and he had plummeted down the slope. Grasping at the earth, his fingers had clawed at the rubble in an attempt to prevent his slide. Such was his velocity that his gloves had ripped off. Hitting a ridge he had flipped up, before gravity once again took over. Dashing his head he received severe injuries and begun to lose consciousness. Finally coming to a halt, he had crossed one leg over the other in pain, and moments later, he had died. Irvine, alive but injured, had instinctively begun to crawl towards camp six, but at some point, through a combination of his injuries and exhaustion had collapsed and succumbed to the mountain.
Significant though this discovery is, other important questions remain. The team failed to find either the body of Irvine or the fabled camera, and consequently no proof exists as to the success of the ascent. But also there is no proof that they did not succeed. The evidence uncovered by the search team, and the extensive detective work done by Jochen Hemmleb suggests that hypothetically at least, they might have made it to the top. Jochen confesses that he is too much of a scientist at heart to give a firm personal opinion, but even so he analyses a host of potential scenarios, and concludes that there is sufficient evidence to at least suggest that Mallory and Irvine had a good chance of success. He is prepared to concede otherwise should a better solution be proposed with substantiating evidence and background material, but ultimately he wishes to return to Everest in the year 2001 and find the conclusive, elusive evidence which remains buried upon this hostile rock. In the interim, the mystery of both the man and the mountain live on.
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Author: Alex Stewart
Date: 1 September 2003
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