Everest 1951 E-Book

Eric Shipton

• Herausgeber: Vertebrate Digital
• Kategorie: Lebensstil
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2013

Beschreibung

In 1953, Edmund Hillary and Tenzing Norgay reached the summit of Mount Everest. They climbed from the south, from Nepal, via the Khumbu Glacier - a route first pioneered in 1951 by a reconnaissance expedition led by Eric Shipton. Everest 1951 is the account of this expedition. It was the first to approach the mountain from the south side, it pioneered a route through the Khumbu icefall and it was the expedition on which Hillary set foot on Everest for the first time. Everest 1951 is a short but vitally important read for anybody with any interest in mountaineering or in Everest. The 1951 Everest Expedition marked the public highpoint of Shipton's mountaineering fame. Key information was discovered and the foundations laid for future success. Despite this, Shipton's critics felt he had a 'lack of trust' and thus failed to match the urgent mood of the period. Despite having been on more Everest expeditions than any man alive, he was 'eased' out of the crucial leadership role in 1953 and so missed the huge public acclaim given to Hillary, Tenzing Norgay and John Hunt after their historic success.

Leseprobe

Everest 1951

Everest 1951

The Mount Everest Reconnaissance Expedition

Eric Shipton

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www.v-publishing.co.uk

– Contents –

Foreword Shipton’s Legacy for Mountaineers

Chapter One The Project

Chapter Two The March

Chapter Three The Ice-fall

Chapter Four Exploratory Journeys

– Foreword –

Shipton’s Legacy for Mountaineers

Eric Shipton was one of the great mountain explorers of the twentieth century. As a young climber he was brave and skilful, with a prodigious flair for pioneering new routes on remote peaks, far from any hope of rescue. During the course of his life that bold vision broadened to encompass immense landscapes and he was drawn increasingly to the wide canvas of exploration, with the result that we sometimes forget what a brilliant natural climber he was. However, whether we view him as an explorer, or climber, or both, his greatest achievement was to unlock the secrets of so many mountain ranges. The mountains he discovered - and the manner in which he discovered them – remain an inspiration to all who have attempted to follow in his steps.

I first came across his name in 1972. I had just started climbing, I was filled with dreams of far off mountains and was devouring everything I could on the subject. One book in particular seemed to enshrine all my half-formed aspirations. It was Shipton’s autobiography, That Untravelled World. Here was a man who had dared to follow his dreams and whose sense of enchantment sparkled from every page of unadorned prose.

Soon I got to know all the other books and followed Shipton’s travels in more detail, discovering the intricacies of the Nanda Devi adventure, the repeated attempts on Everest and the breathtaking scope of the great Karakoram explorations told in my favourite of all, Blank on the Map. I couldn’t afford to buy first editions and had to rely on borrowed library copies. So I was delighted when a new omnibus Eric Shipton: The Six Mountain-Travel Books assembled all his early narratives into a single affordable volume, complete with well-captioned photos, additional articles, clear maps, pertinent appendices and an eloquent Introduction by Jim Perrin. It remains a treasured and constantly rejuvenating source of inspiration.

Since first reading Shipton’s books, I have got to know some of the people who actually climbed with him – Scott Russell in the Karakoram, George Lowe and Charles Wylie in Nepal, John Earle in Patagonia. They all found him a delightful companion, a great conversationalist, an enthusiast but also a gently provocative rocker of the establishment. And it’s that same engaging personality that speaks through the books; they are immensely readable.

As Jim Perrin points out, the writings would be remarkable if only for their sheer geographical scope. From his astonishingly bold, assured, pioneering debut on Mount Kenya, to Everest, to Garhwal and the Karakoram, to Turkestan, to Patagonia, Shipton’s explorations covered immense areas of wilderness. But it was the manner of those explorations that made them such a continuing inspiration to modern mountaineers. Few of us cover as much ground; none of us has equalled the record of the 1935 Everest reconnaissance expedition that made first ascents of twenty-two peaks over 20,000 feet; most of us would baulk at the frugality espoused by Shipton and his famously austere companion, Bill Tilman; but the ideal – of achieving more with less, travelling uncluttered, attuned to the landscape – remains an aspiration.

As Harold Evans famously pointed out, a picture can be worth a thousand words. It was Eric Shipton’s 1937 photos of the Latok peaks, the Ogre and Uli Biaho that inspired the next generation. In a sense he threw down the gauntlet for John Roskelley, Doug Scott, Jim Donini and all those others who brought modern techniques to the soaring granite towers in what is now northern Pakistan. More recently the spire that bears Shipton’s name has been a recurring magnet for modern American climbers like Greg Child, Mark Synott and Steph Davis. Shipton had the grand vision to reveal vast tracts of previously unexplored mountain country; his modern followers are enjoying the fruits – whether it is the fine detail of a vertical rock tower or the broader sweep of the great Karakoram ski tours carried out by people like Ned Gillete, David Hamilton and the Odier brothers. For myself, with Phil Bartlett and Duncan Tunstall, it was thrilling, in 1987, to try and emulate Shipton, making a serendipitous first ascent above the Biafo Glacier, before continuing over Snow Lake to the same Khurdopin Pass he had reached with Scott Russell 48 years earlier, at the outbreak of the Second World War.

That war saw Russell incarcerated in the infamous Changi jail in Singapore, while Shipton languished more comfortably in one of the few proper jobs he ever had – as British Consul in Kashgar. There he wrote his first volume of autobiography, Upon That Mountain. He ends the book on an elegiac note, describing his last evening on Snow Lake before returning to a ‘civilization’ embarked on a cataclysmic war. ‘The great granite spires of the Biafo stood black against a deep blue sky. At least this mountain world, to which I owed so much of life and happiness, would stand above the ruin of human hopes, the heritage of a saner generation of men.’