Now understand me well—It is provided in the essence of things, that from any fruition of success, no matter what, shall come forth something to make a greater struggle necessary.

—WALT WHITMAN

EIGHT ICEFALL

With rope, ladder, and bridge we finally tamed the Icefall but never felt we had achieved more than a precarious truce. On each journey through the chaos of ice, past the blue-green crevasses, and over the tumbled blocks that marked the grave, we heard the groans of a glacier stretched on a rack of granite, the whoompf as a block subsided underfoot, and the rumble as towers collapsed and spilled tons of ice. The place was rotting, piece by piece. Pausing to rest, I could relax completely, yet never quite dispel the feeling that I was an uninvited guest.

An aluminum ladder spanned a deep gash near the top, leaning swaybacked against the wall on the other side. On April 2, Pownall, Dick, and I were preparing to descend from Camp 1 to sculpt the upper part of this wall into a form more reassuring to laden porters. For some reason Pownall asked for a delay. Twenty minutes later, as we stood outside our tents roping up, the mountain started coming apart. The rolling boom drew our eyes to the chaotic dissolution of the icy canyon just below. Two hundred yards away, towers began to topple, walls sagged into rubble. In a chain reaction, the gigantic breaker curled toward us. I stood transfixed, unconsciously bracing myself against the moment our camp should become part of it. Thick clouds rose from the cauldron, ice particles shimmering like tiny diamonds before the hidden sun, then settling as dust upon our camp. When the air had cleared, the camp had not moved.

Pownall was visibly shaken. But for his delay we would be buried under the ruins of the route. For him this was too familiar. Striking notes of fear and then perplexity at the fate that had spared him for the second time; it was enough for one day. “This Icefall is much too busy,” I wrote. “I am not at all sad to be above and beyond the Monster.”

On March 31 Dick, Willi, and I had moved up from Base to Camp 1. I only made it halfway: “Dump Camp, 19,300. Here I sit like a stupid idiot. 7:30 PM, alone in a 2-man Drawtite tent with a gastrointestinal tract behaving a mite like Vesuvius. About 11:30 Dick and I started up toward Camp 1, rather too heavily laden, I suspect, but carrying all necessary clothing for our journey to the West Shoulder. We went slowly but fairly well. Abominably hot. Towers capsizing audibly, and once visibly, on either side in the heat of the afternoon. But the route itself seems pretty good with very few suspicious-looking exceptions. We stopped for a drink and some Tobler chocolate, then on to the Dump. Shortly my stomach began to react with intermittent cramps. As we came closer to the Dump, pains came closer, nearly doubling me. We finally crept into camp, spotting Willi waiting (he had left an hour earlier, alone, with nearly 80 pounds instead of 60; still made it in 2¾ hours instead of our 3½). I flipped out of my pack and rushed down the hill. Finally I crept into the tent in chilled discomfort to appraise my condition. Each exertion brought new spasms. I decided to stay here. Willi and Dick left me their water bottles and headed up about 4:00 PM. The next hour or so I spent in intermittent agonies, trying to create a space in the tent to sleep, bring in food boxes, inflate air mattress, get myself and precious water into the sleeping bag since with no stove burner here I dare not let it freeze. The ordeal was slow, punctuated at two–four minute intervals by return of cramps with each exertion, so I had to lie back and rest about three-fourths of the time. Finally the job was somewhat done, even my pack was hauled in from the outside. I got in my bag and dozed till shortly before 6:00, then scooted to the door for radio contact, hearing Jim and Al conversing but unable to get through. I learned that Prather and Tashi were coming down from Camp 1 and there goes my night of lonely isolation that I had hoped to be recovered enough to enjoy. There are compensations, though, in the feeling of security. I don’t aim to go down, plan to keep pushing toward the West Ridge recon which, frankly, is the thing I have dreamt most of and which threatens to be the most exciting portion of the expedition, except perhaps reaching the summit by the same route. So somehow my intestinal tract is going to have to shape up in the next two days whether it likes it or not.”

The next morning I was totally purged and boomed up to Camp 1 with Tashi carrying half my load. I seemed to be going as strongly as any but the incredible Unsoeld, who appeared to have gone manically awry, threatening to demoralize the Expedition by his extreme hyper-activity, hyper-optimism, and seeming indestructibility.

I was puzzled. What was Willi trying to prove? Soloing half the Icefall unroped and beneath an 80-pound load, for example? Was this his way of leading us all back into the fray again after Jake’s death? If so, it must be lonely out there in the front, shouting “ Charge!” to a contingent out of earshot. The effort told even on him, for he climbed weary and aching into his sleeping bag each night. And it wasn’t quite achieving the desired results. Most of us didn’t need such a boost. Some were more cowed than invigorated by Willi’s energy, asking themselves, “How can we hope to keep up with that?” Finally, Dick and I hauled him aside:

“Slow down, Willi, you’re demoralizing half the Expedition.”

“Don’t be ridiculous; I’ve been holding back so you youngsters can keep up with me.”

But the thought had been planted and it grew; Willi slowed.

A small climber (Tom Hornbein) crossing a small crevasse (Photo by Willi Unsoeld)

Fallen icefall just below Camp 1 (Photo by Barry Bishop)

Climber emerging from the chaos below Camp 1 (Photo by Willi Unsoeld)

Final moments through the Icefall (Photo by Willi Unsoeld)

Camp 1 and Pumori behind (Photo by James W. Whittaker)

Pumori (left) and its neighbors from near Camp 1 (Photo by Maynard Miller)

Up the Cwm to Camp 2 (Photo by Al Auten)