View from the Top Hut with fresh snow covering Nelion

Mount Kenya

July 1958

Introduction

Early in 1958, four of us, Hans Graafland, Hilton Whittle, my brother Polo Schoon and myself, students studying at the University of Stellenbosch, decided that we would organise an expedition to attempt climbing Mount Kenya. We were all in residence at Wilgenhof, one of the University’s oldest and most respected mens’ residences in the town. Hans, Polo and myself were all experienced climbers, members of the Mountain Club of South Africa and active rockclimbers. Hilton, a born adventurer, had of necessity to quickly find out what rockclimbing was all about on the training climbs on Table Mountain and on the mountains around Stellenbosch we were then all doing. In our preparations, apart from this training, we had to scratch around to find the climbing equipment we knew we would need on the mountain, eventually managing to trace ex-war department ice axes and crampons and some of the early rock pitons that were then becoming available in the country. Seeking sponsorship, we made an agreement with the Cape Times Newspaper in Cape Town, to send back reports describing our climbing exploits on the mountain.

Our flight from Durban to Nairobi in a tired old East African Airways Dakota took three days and was an adventure in itself – the old beast puttering along the coast at an altitude of a couple of thousand feet all the way and having to be gingered up at each overnight stop! After buying food in Nairobi we caught a bus to Nanyuki and then went to the legendary Raymond Hook’s Farm at the bottom of the Burguret approach route to start our long approach march to Mount Kenya’s Top Hut with our gear and food packed onto the mules we had arranged beforehand with Mr Hook. Arriving at the farm the first indications of Mr Hook’s reputed eccentricity were confirmed when we found chickens nesting on the lounge sofa and heard his caution to us not to go into the bathroom - “because there’s a warthog in there.”

The big adventure - the Team : myself, Hans Graafland, Hilton Whittle and my brother Polo

Saturday 5 July

After sleeping the night at the farm, we woke early and started to make up loads for the mules. Mr Hook kindly agreed to supply one extra mule to better cope with the amount of baggage we had, bringing our total complement up to five mules and three mule boys. After weighing and re-weighing the loads, the mules were loaded up and we were on our way (10:00).

However, scarcely half an hour had passed before the mules started getting obstreperous, one of them bolting off into the wilderness strewing food in its wake, followed by two of the mule boys running after it! After at least an hours delay the long caravan again resumed its march through grassland interspersed with forest. We consumed our lunch rather late – just beyond the Burguret Forest Station. Just as we entered the forest proper, we met a party of five people coming down off the mountain, who warned us of foul conditions ahead and advised us to try to reach the moorland camp some 30 minutes beyond the upper edge of the bamboo forest.

Starting off on the forest trail up the Burguret route

Mount Kenya Top Hut with Point Lenana (16 355 ft - 4 985 m) behind

Weather : Clear in the morning with the clouds rising about 12:00. Cloudy and cold in the afternoon clearing again at about 17:00. A clear sky in the evening and very cold.

Tuesday 8 July

I woke at about 08:00 with a splitting headache after a terrible night! Still very cold though the sun was already up. We quickly dealt with our headaches taking some Aspros, and then got down to more important things – the question of food! Despite all the previous dire warnings given to us, we found that not only did the altitude seem to have little effect on our appetites, but even seemed to increase it! Though we tried making both tea and coffee, we found the flavour completely flat, obviously due to the low boiling temperature of the water at this altitude. Wonderful views of the surrounding peaks and the Lewis glacier. As we were all feeling fairly fit once more after the long slog up to the Top Hut, we decided to climb Point Lenana (4 985 m 16 355 ft). We left the hut at about 10:00 and started climbing up the ridge on the East side of the glacier – delightful snow conditions and the photographers in their element! Magnificent views on all sides once we reached the summit, especially those in the direction of Hall Tarn and Lake Michaelson, where the drab colours of the screes were broken by the brilliant green shades of the tarns.

Below the summit of Point Lenana

On the descent we practised holding falls while climbing on the steep snow slopes of the Lewis glacier and when this was completed to our satisfaction we went back to the hut for lunch. By this time the cloud had risen obscuring all the peaks from sight so we spent a lazy afternoon sleeping and reading in the hut. This long stretch of unbroken inactivity soon proved too much for Hilton though and he set about making a snow sledge to offer a rather faster descent of the Lewis glacier! After about an hour and a half all that he had to show for these efforts was a series of incomplete contraptions, none of which he felt he could reach finality with, owing he said “to severe technical hitches!” After supper we crawled into our bags and were soon asleep.

Weather : Clear in the morning with clouds rising to obscure the peaks in the afternoon. The clouds dispersed in the evening and it became completely clear again. Very cold during the night and even the day temperatures were low.

Wednesday 9 July

Another clear and cold morning. Though we felt better than on Tuesday, most of us still had headaches and sore throats. However, feeling far friskier after a substantial breakfast, Hans, Hilton and I decided to have a look at Thomson’s Point in order to view the East Face of Nelion and the North side of Batian. Polo decided to stay at the hut because he had a septic heel.

Outflanking the steep ice cliffs above the Curling Pond we made good time moving diagonally left across the glacier between a series of parallel crevasses. On reaching the crest of the ridge leading up to Point Lenana on the far side of the glacier, we chose the easiest line going up the snow covered rocks below Point Thomson. However, to our disappointment the view we had hoped to get from this high point was spoiled by the mist rising from lower down. But we did have occasional glimpses of the impressive ice sheets swept by frequent rock falls on the Northwest face of Point Lenana as well as of Batian’s Northeast Ridge further to the West thrusting its jagged crest through the mist. The rock on Point Thomson (and we discovered later on most of Mount Kenya’s outlying satellite peaks) is of the worst quality imaginable – breaking up to form the huge screes on the slopes around the main peak.

Descending from our viewpoint we lost a little height so that we could traverse in the direction of Nelion across a steep south-facing snow slope and then at the junction of Nelion’s East buttress and the ridge we had followed earlier, we climbed a short very rotten rock pitch followed by another steep snow slope to reach the crest dividing the North and South sides of this part of the mountain. Looking down at the loose scree slopes on the North side persuaded us that the best approach to a sub-camp on the North side would definitely be over the ridge connecting Point Thomson with Point Lenana. We returned to the hut in thick mist.

We spent the afternoon writing, reading and sleeping in the hut and went to bed straight after supper, as we had decided that we should possibly look at climbing Point John on Thursday if the weather was clear.

Weather : Clear in the morning, clouding over towards midday and clearing again in the evening.

Thursday 10 July

Woke earlier than previously with an utterly foul headache, but managed to get Hans and Polo, the climbing party, on their way after breakfast armed with sufficient equipment to cover any difficulties they might encounter. Sometime later Hilton and I crossed the glacier and were surprised to see them climbing on the face leading to the north ridge of Point John. On rounding the shoulder and being able to see the standard route – a south facing gully, we soon saw that the standard route would be quite unclimbable owing to a thick covering of verglas. After seeing them attain the summit of a pinnacle some 150 feet lower and slightly to the northeast of the true summit, Hilton and I returned to the Top Hut (approx. 15:15).

Polo later gave us the following account of the day’s events :

After leaving the Top Hut, Hans and Polo made for the lip of the glacier beside the curling pond where they could cross onto the glacier. After descending a couple of hundred feet, they stepped onto the scree on the east side of the north ridge of Point John. They left their rucksacks on the scree and climbed the face leading up to the north ridge on mixed rock and ice (“A” and “B”) for about 300 feet. Some 300 feet higher still and slightly to the left, they left their ice axes in a snowy hollow.

A traverse of 3 x 120 foot rope lengths and a short climb over snow covered rocks (“D”), brought them to the very prominent notch on the north side of Point John (the rock gully below this notch appeared to be free from snow and looked a far better route of approach). A series of shallow recesses on the north face of Point John then gave access to an exposed stance 70 feet above the notch (“E”). By climbing the 15 ft exposed face above this, they reached easier ground - a 120 ft crack, almost a chimney, took them to the small neck below the pinnacle. From here they made a short descent to where they could traverse across the south face of the pinnacle and scramble up behind a big block to reach the summit of the pinnacle (15:15 about 150 ft lower than the main summit and with about another 150 ft of difficult rock to climb to reach it).

After making the decision to go down based on this observation and the late hour, they made an abseil/climbing descent to get back to the notch and then found that by traversing still further towards Nelion they could glissade down the upper section of a snow-filled gully to where it pinched out in a rock bottleneck. Not realising the rather steeper snow below the notch was also more icy, Hans’ next glissade went out of control, tearing Polo’s ice axe belay out of the snow and sending both the climbers shooting down the gully, passing each other two or three times. They eventually stopped after Polo (who had lost his ice axe earlier in the fall) collided with a rock on the gully’s right-hand side and managed to stop. Hans was about 15 ft higher up the gully, his face covered in blood from a nasty cut in his upper lip. Realising the situation was quite serious they left all their excess equipment behind on the scree and headed back to the Top Hut as fast as they could, Hans running on ahead across the glacier.

Polo, spying me on the ridge above the hut, was able to shout what had happened, so that Hilton and I, after grabbing the medical kit and lighting a stove for hot water, raced across the glacier to where Hans was lying on the ice – bleeding!

We managed to stop the worst bleeding from Hans’ deeply split upper lip fairly quickly and helped him back to the hut, where we would be able to render more effective medical assistance both for the bleeding and shock. Looking ahead while we tended Hans’ injury, we decided it would be best for me to go down to seek help and to arrange for a doctor to return with me up the Burguret route to attend to Hans as soon as possible. The others would spend the night at the hut and depending on Hans’ condition the next morning, would also descend to meet us on the way – as things looked the wound to his face was Hans’ only injury and it appeared he would be able to walk down with Hilton’s and Polo’s assistance. After hurriedly packing the bare necessities, I left the hut at 19:00.

After plying Hans with some hot soup to help restore normality, Hilton suggested to Hans that, owing to an injury like this possibly leaving an ugly scar, and because stitching of the wound could only be done within some 24 hours, he (Hilton) could possibly perform an emergency operation right away with the materials available to him. After Hans agreed to the proposal, preparations went ahead – all the instruments and materials were sterilized and two Pethadine tablets administered to Hans at 20 minute intervals. All was now ready and while Polo shone the torch and held Hans very tightly, Hilton made three stitches with a normal needle and thread that had been sterilized. During the stitching the pain must have been incredible and Hans swore in the many languages he has at his disposal – German and Dutch prevailing – while Doctor Whittle calmly stitched! The operation seemed to have been successful and soon the drugs took their effect and Hans was sleeping peacefully (22:15).

In the meantime I was already many miles away from the Top Hut. After leaving the others, there remained barely sufficient daylight for me to reach the upper part of the scree. In the rapidly deepening darkness I raced down the scree, slipping and sliding, crossed the level section at its base and started the tedious climb up to the Two Tarn Hut. This I reached in pitch darkness exactly an hour after starting out. Going on I soon lost all sense of direction in the misty conditions and prevailed on my sense of hearing and of feeling the breeze blowing steadily across the ridge to find the route. I soon learned that, what I had thought would be an ample supply of torch batteries was going to be barely sufficient – the batteries we had bought in Kenya were of the poorest quality.

Stumbling on in the dark I reached a rain gauge and soon afterwards came upon a line of beacons marking the mule track. The track at this point is fairly level and after 15 minutes more walking I was disheartened to discover I had arrived back at the Two Tarn Hut track! Now enlightened how easy it was to inadvertently turn right around and retrace my steps, I set off again following the right route down the ridge. Though the misty conditions still prevailed, I reached kampi ya farasi after another four hours of following faint mule tracks and beacons in the rapidly failing glow of my torch! From here it was quite impossible to distinguish any tracks and I stumbled on down the valley relying on my sense of memory to find the correct crossing of the stream. But I got it wrong and spent another happy half hour falling over giant groundsels and tripping over tussock grass before once again finding the haven of the muddy mule track. Whereas I had been sure things should go better from here, it seemed instead I had fallen from the frying pan into the fire, the mud seemed deeper and more liquid than ever before. In the feeble torchlight I struggled to keep to the path and took several more hours to reach the moorland camp.

Any optimism I felt reaching this point was soon dispelled when soon afterwards just going into the giant heath forest the next problem leered at me – elephants had obviously used this area as a “stomping” ground and I was confronted with a maze of trails between the smashed remains of the heaths. An hour’s search eventually solved the riddle and the path into the main forest beckoned me on. This next section proved to be relatively easy as I had already repeated it once before and I arrived at the site of our camp of the 5^th at about 04:15.

The light cast by my torch was by now a mere glimmer and it was with many qualms that I entered the pitch black tunnel through the bamboos. The occasional sounds of the forest denizens only drove me on faster, slipping and sliding through the ankle deep mud. Though I was by now very tired, I could not understand why my course seemed to be proceeding uphill, but accounted for it thinking this must be the gentle rise leading to the Githiuru settlement. Time was no longer a factor and I quite eagerly climbed to a clearing ahead – to be absolutely devastated when I found that I must somehow have turned around again (perhaps after resting) and retraced my steps back to the site of our camp of the 5^th !!! This felt like the end and somewhat painfully I now turned around for the second time setting out from this camp.

By now it was light enough to see and while passing a particularly dense patch of bamboo, I disturbed several large animals which crashed off into the bush. Thinking the animals had all taken flight, I was surprised to hear an impatient snort and looked up to see a young buffalo bull, head down and pawing the ground, some 100 feet distant in a small clearing next to a large tree - I departed fast! No further incident occurred and after what had seemed to be a never-ending trail, I emerged at the forestry settlement at 08:30.

Friday 11 July

Stopping at the first house I came to in the settlement I asked for the nearest police or forestry officer. My appearance must have caused considerable alarm as Frank Muir, the Forestry Officer, who soon arrived in his Land Rover, looked relieved on seeing me and said that the native runner had furnished him with a story that would have made ours seem fair childsplay. We departed to his house and despite the intricacies of the Nanyuki telephone exchange had soon arranged for a doctor and informed the police about the accident. However, becoming slightly worried at the delay of the arrival of the doctor, we went into Nanyuki to find that he had completely misunderstood the position and had no intention of climbing a mountain on horseback let alone on foot. It was then decided to make up a rescue team to ascend to the patient and, if required, to carry him down in as short a time as possible – either by stretcher or on horseback. However, these arrangements had just been completed (15:00) when we received a phone call from the Githiuru Forest Station that Hans and Hilton had arrived and that Polo was some two hours behind. Relieved and fairly surprised, we learned that the three had left the Top Hut at 07:30 and made their way down as fast as possible. Misty conditions on the moorlands caused some delay when they lost the track and arrived in a valley where the stream “flowed in the wrong direction”. But this mistake was soon rectified. Hans was going well and only started tiring at the by now famous forest camp. Hilton and Hans had been met at the Forest Station by an officer from Burguret Police Station who had driven them to Nanyuki Cottage Hospital. We met the Land Rover on the forestry road and while Frank returned home, I accompanied Hans and Hilton to the hospital together with Jock Mathieson, who was originally planning to help bring Hans down with the rescue team.

Hans was left in the hospital while the rest of us departed to the village and quickly downed some food. Hans was ready when we returned – the doctor told us that Doctor Whittle’s stitches were perfectly satisfactory and that it had not been necessary to alter anything. Hans was then comfortably installed in the Silverbeck Hotel where he would be under the supervision of the local GP, before re-joining us after a few days. Hilton and I together with Jock then returned to the Forest Station where we met Polo sitting on the roadside.

Frank Muir’s hospitality was wonderful – he offered us mattresses on the floor of his house, plied us with good food and ran us hot baths – what more could a man wish! We spent the evening chatting and resting our weary limbs – and then to bed and SLEEP!

Weather : Cloudy all day at low altitude. It looked as though there was bad weather brewing on the mountain!

Saturday 12 July

After breakfast Hilton, Polo and I said goodbye to Frank and thanked him for all his help. Then for the second time we departed up the mountain – this time with packs on our backs. After two hours walking through the forest we arrived in a pleasant glade and ate a meagre lunch. Scarcely half an hour after starting out again gentle soaking rain started to fall from the leaden sky. Soon the already sodden forest track was transformed into a clutching bog and the morale of the party seemed to be diminishing fast. With a sigh of relief we entered the clearing of the forest camp and studied the sodden remains of the scraps that we had left there after the night of the 5^th – it all seemed a very long time ago. Beyond the camp the soil was more clayey and instead of clutching at one’s feet, the mud sent one skating in an attempt to maintain one’s balance. The rain eased off upon entering the giant heaths and we looked forward to perhaps pitching camp in the dry. However our hopes were soon dashed when, upon reaching the moorland camp situated among the rocks and giant heaths on the crest of a ridge, the rain again resumed its confounded patter. Having only a small tent and a large groundsheet between us, we looked for some alternative natural shelter and were pleased to discover a shallow cave where we would be protected from the wind and rain. The tent was erected without delay while Hilton set about trying to start a fire. With success, because after persevering, he eventually had a cheery blaze going which did a lot to raise our spirits. Soon with sufficient wood at hand we were even able to dry our sodden clothes over the fire.

After eating a rather cold and cheerless supper we retired to “bed” – if you can call a thirty degree uneven grass slope a decent bed! As we only had two sleeping bags between us, I made do with our three down jackets and spent a somewhat wakeful night contemplating my misery!

Weather : Cloudy in the morning with rain in the afternoon. Clearing and becoming cold during the night.

Sunday 13 July

Woke early, cold stiff and rather miserable! We ate a cold breakfast and after packing the wet tent and sleeping bags, we once more wallowed our way up the muddy track. The cloud was by now rising fast and it was obvious we were once more in for it! Resigned to our fate we plodded on and passing the site of our second camp, we once more entered the mist beyond. As we struck out to the left a fine rain started to fall, which, as we gained altitude, very soon turned to a fine stinging hail. These unpleasant conditions persisted all the way up to the Two Tarn Hut, turning the usually hard dry surface of the ground into an accumulative mud trap. We reached the hut looking like abominable snowmen, only instead of white snow we were covered in black mud, each of us with about three extra pounds of mud clinging to our boots.

After some trouble experienced with our keys prizing open the hut door, into what we imagined would be a warm haven of shelter, we stared at a cold empty looking hut with only just enough food to provide a snack for lunch. Disappointed with our finds we closed the door and tried to extract the keys from their sockets, which was far easier said than done – we eventually retired having to leave one key in position after it resisted all our efforts to remove it.

As we started out again the clouds lifted exposing the long grey slope of the scree ahead. We attacked our old adversary with faint hearts, but were pleasantly surprised to find its resistance was low and that we were able to reach the Top Hut with far less expenditure of energy than we had anticipated. In the hut we found Hilton, who without a pack had made short work of the scree, already busy brewing a huge steaming pot of cocoa to celebrate our arrival. Then a generous amount of time spent preparing an elaborate meal to make up for the hunger and misery of the last few days – chef Whittle serving up a curry together with rice and peas worthy of his mettle.

So ended this chapter of our “horror epistle” – Monday we would rest!

Weather : Fine early in the morning, but clouding over fast. Thick mist with rain, sleet and snow en-route to the Two Tarn Hut. A slight clearing between the Two Tarn Hut and the Top Hut followed by steady snowfall right through the night.

Monday 14 July

The whole world outside was white with fresh snow and it looked as though these conditions would persist for at least a few days. The mountain was covered in cloud and we realised that the Standard Route would probably be quite unclimbable. However the snow appeared to be also melting fast and despite the icy wind it felt as though the temperature was above normal.

After a lazy meal we restored the general shambles inside the hut to a semblance of order. The weather was too lousy to even think about any climbing so it was REST, READ, EAT and SLEEP with definite emphasis on the latter two. The whole day was spent this way as in the afternoon and evening strong winds and snow swept the area.

Weather : Blizzard!

Tuesday 15 July

Terrific winds had been blowing all night and it was bitterly cold. Mist enveloped the peak with the sun breaking through the cloud just after breakfast. Making use of this brief clearing Polo and I crossed the glacier from the lip of the curling pond to the scree where the excess equipment had been cached after Hans’ accident. Thick mist enveloped us as we went across and we emerged somewhat lower on the scree than we had expected. However, very soon we had collected all the equipment save for Polo’s ice axe which still remained in the steep snow gully where they had slipped. We spent at least an hour combing the gully before accidentally treading on the axe, because a three inch layer of fresh snow covered everything. We quickly retraced our steps to the curling pond – all in thick mist again. Here, with time to spare we played around on the short ice walls immediately above the pond before going back to the hut. In the meantime Hilton had been quite busy in the hut trying to clear out the rubbish left by previous parties and generally tidying the hut.

The weather remained foul forcing us to spend the rest of the day indoors where we read and slept. Early to bed as it seemed much colder – we hoped this might be a good sign. Still no sign of Hans.

Weather : Cold and misty most of the day with a bitterly cold gusty wind blowing.

Wednesday 16 July

The weather continued to play up and climbing was out of the question. After a late breakfast we lay around in our sleeping bags listening to the wind roaring outside. At about 11:00 we were surprised to see a bearded face peering in at the door – Hans was back after leaving the Githiuru settlement about the same time the previous day. He had spent a dry and comfortable night in a large cave above kampi ya farasi. We were all glad to be together again and celebrated with a large lunch. The on-going bad weather conditions again ruled out any climbing activity in the afternoon and the night was cold and stormy with lots more snow.

Weather : Blizzard

Thursday 17 July

In the morning we were lucky enough to catch a glimpse of Nelion through the swirling mists. And what a sight it was – a glittering gem with a sparkling white cloak. Our glimpse lasted only a few minutes before the mist once again shrouded the peak. We had decided that this should be the day for us to recce a possible support camp we could use to attempt the Northeast Ridge – the route upon which we were now pinning all our hopes. With this in mind Hans and I set out after breakfast and, climbing with crampons, reached the neck between Point Thomson and Point Lenana in good time but were frustrated by more thick mist still hiding the peaks. Here we crossed onto the scree but after descending some 400 feet had to decide whether to continue down a steep rocky couloir or take to the glacier. After choosing the latter option we soon found ourselves entangled in a maze of snow covered crevasses. Our position was made all the more disturbing by the intermittent crunching noises coming from the glacier – presumably from the movement of the glacier or from new crevasses forming. This persuaded us to essay into a long traverse across the glacier to a point where we thought it might be possible to bridge the worst crevasses. But after traversing some three rope lengths we were brought to an abrupt halt by an ugly ice cliff that barred our way. Rather disheartened we retraced our steps, cursed the crevasses, the mist and the glacier and decided that all we could do was to head back home. This we did and within half an hour were unlacing our crampons at the curling pond – our morning’s tracks had already long since been obliterated under the freshly fallen snow. Snow continued to fall right through the afternoon so we spent the rest of the day moping in the hut!

Weather : Misty all day save for a few short clear spells early in the morning. Wind and snow conditions prevailed all afternoon and night.

Friday 18 July

In the morning we did eventually succeed in finding a way through the maze of crevasses that had defeated us the previous day. Brief clearings early in the morning gave some promise of slightly better weather, so after strapping on our crampons above the curling pond, we all set off across the glacier climbing in two ropes of two. Although the mist was still quite dense, we thought the visibility was slightly better than the previous day. After dropping some 300 feet to the point where Hans and I had previously re-joined the glacier, Polo and I managed to cross some of the largest crevasses directly and were delighted to find that at this point the ice bluff was quite small and therefor negotiable. Excited with our find we shouted to the others to come on. Though fairly straightforward we put in piton belays to protect this section of the route. The general steepness of the route and ice only a little way beneath the surface of the snow, made us glad of the added security of our crampons.

After descending perhaps another 300 feet, we were able to re-join the scree next to an ugly black ice/earth wall left by the retreating glacier. Several large ice blocks perched on the glacier here, seemed to be waiting to fall and crush the unwary! Unbuckling our crampons and slinging them over our shoulders, we set off down the scree again slipping and sliding in the loose stones and earth, suitably impressed to hear the occasional crash and clatter of rocks falling onto the screes from Point Thomson and Thomson’s Flake. We were now too low to attempt a descent of the Krapf glacier from the shoulder beneath the col connecting Thomson’s Flake with Nelion, so after traversing horizontally across the broad scree slope, we descended to the base of the large rock pinnacle on the true right-hand side of the Krapf glacier. Not knowing the position of the usual support camp site, which we knew must be located somewhere close by, we went back up 200 – 300 feet again, casting around looking for the site, but without success. Somewhat disgruntled we continued climbing up to the base of the first distinct rock barrier, just beneath the lip of the Krapf glacier, which towers above one here, looking very steep and impressive.

Wondering where the usual site might be, we were delighted to find an alternative site, well sheltered and level that would serve as our support camp site for our attempt on the Northeast Ridge. It seemed perfect as there was a trickle of water close at hand and it would receive sun all day long. Rather pleased with our find, we ate some chocolate while hopefully waiting for the seemingly perpetual mist to lift and were rewarded with several fleeting glimpses of the wild, jagged, awe-inspiring black and orange Northeast Ridge on our right, towering above us. Feeling small and insignificant as we watched the mist close in again to cover the rocks in a damp cloak once more, we turned around and retraced our morning’s steps with little difficulty, to get back to the Top Hut at about 15:00. By now the snow was falling again and, pleased to be back, we were surprised to find the hut was now occupied by four new inmates who must obviously have come up that morning. Feeling a bit miserable about this unexpected development, we went back out into the swirling snow storm, pitched our tents and transferred our kit into them.

Paul Latham, the leader of the other party, which we learned came from Mombasa, very kindly invited us to use the hut for living, cooking and eating – this was most welcome as the conditions outside were scarcely cosy and the cramped space in our small tents would certainly have made our lives very uncomfortable trying to cook in them! Relieved, we moved into the hut and soon made friends with the other four climbers. After supper we crawled into bed, Hans, Hilton and Polo sleeping in the Igloo, while I slept in the Tinker. We stashed all our kit in the Guinea Minor.

Weather : Brief clear spells in the mist early on. Generally a better day than the previous one and the mist not quite so bad. Snow storm in the afternoon clearing up after supper. The night still and cold.

Saturday 19 July

We woke slightly earlier to find a clear sky overhead and the peaks bathed in sunlight – resplendent in their gleaming white cloaks of fresh snow.

Hans and I leaving the Top Hut to set up our Subcamp below the Northeast Ridge

Hilton said he had had a bad night, but the others seemed to have slept well and were soon up soaking in warmth from the sun. This would be the day that we wanted to establish our support camp. After a lazy breakfast Hans and I packed all the heavy equipment into our rucksacks and, waving to the others, slowly climbed to the neck between Point Lenana and Point Thomson, weighed down by our large loads.

By this time the clouds were rising fast and already wisps of mist were curling around the peaks. Following our route of the previous day, we reached the site of the support camp early (after just one hour’s climbing time) and dumping our kit set about clearing a suitable site for the Igloo. This task completed, we waited for Hilton and Polo who were following later carrying our food supplies across the Gregory glacier. During the couple of hours that we waited we had several fine views of the Northeast Ridge. It looked alarmingly long and complicated and the approach from our side to the crest looked difficult. Hilton and Polo arrived at about 13:00 and we quickly pitched the tent and packed our kit into it. While we ate our lunch the outlying peaks thrust their jagged profiles through the mists and the sun even shone for a brief spell – the most magnificent views unfolded all around us. Above us the Krapf glacier was bounded by sheer rock cliffs – on the right sweeping up to the Northeast Ridge and straight above us culminating in Nelion’s summit and the Gate of Mists. Down below us, Sendeyo and the other outlying peaks on the subsidiary ridges glistened in the afternoon sun. The wide sweep of the Mackinder valley at our feet made us feel on top of the world.

The Northeast Ridge subcamp with the view towards Sendeyo

When Hilton and Polo left us to return to the Top Hut, we arranged that they would return on the morrow bringing any other necessary supplies we had neglected to bring today – they disappeared over the crest of the ridge and we were alone. After blowing up our lilos and resting for about an hour, we pulled on our boots and scrambled up the scree above our camp to find the best route of approach for tomorrow’s reconnaissance. When we had approached our support camp site, we had noticed two deep couloirs filled with snow leading up to the Northeast Ridge, the base of the left-hand couloir just above our camp, roughly on the same level as the lip of the Krapf glacier. Still further to the left, before reaching the main couloir descending from the Gate of Mists, there was another steep shallowly recessed face, that we at first thought might offer our best hopes for the approach to the Northeast Ridge, but closer inspection soon showed that it would be out of the question. Looking more closely at the couloir we had first considered that ended just above our sub camp , we found a beacon and a cross inside a circle chipped into the rock at its base, which made us think this might be the French Couloir. We certainly felt that it looked the more promising for the approach to the Northeast Ridge. Satisfied we slid back down the scree slope back to our sub camp.

On our way down the Gregory glacier we had noticed a delightful tarn at the base of the Northeast Ridge. As we had some time in hand now we decided to combine a visit to this tarn with a recce of the west flank of the Northeast Ridge and the Northey glacier. From our sub camp we descended about 600 feet before traversing around the base of the Northeast Ridge and dropping slightly more to reach the tarn. We were right, it was a wonderful spot – the weather had cleared somewhat and we were afforded some magnificent views. Looking at our proposed route, it was obvious we would have to approach the ridge from the other (east) side as the west flank consisted of a series of gigantic slabs sweeping up to the jagged crest of the ridge. We could now see the famous tower that Firmin had turned by climbing a chimney on the left. The tower looked most impressive and was obviously only one of the obstacles on the ridge’s line of defences. Wondering what we were letting ourselves in for, we slowly climbed back up the screes to camp.

View over the small tarn at the base of the Northeast Ridge

It was then that we saw the site of the usual support camp – situated on a level rock ledge at the base of a subsidiary rock buttress below the rock pinnacle on the left of the Krapf glacier some 500 feet below our site. We traversed across to have a look and found a minute platform, true well sheltered, but with no water nearby and a long way from the start of the climb. We decided that our site was by far preferable.

A short climb brought us back to our sub camp and we crawled into our sleeping bags, cooked a fine meal in the tent and then finally dropped off to sleep after reading for a short while – the Igloo is a most comfortable tent for two people. Meanwhile Hilton and Polo had turned in at the Top Hut after grubbing with the other party.

Weather : Clear at first, clouding over later with clear spells. The night was cold and clear.

Looking up at the Krapf glacier with the Northeast Ridge on the right

We returned to the junction of the Northeast and Northwest ridges, dropped down a bit and chose a site for our bivouac on a small ledge covered with loose boulders. As complete darkness finally fell, we finished building a low protecting wall and, after eating a few sweets for supper, settled down for a long cold night. A huge thunder cloud with a violent electrical storm in its black centre, slowly circled around us. A few raindrops pattered down from the inky sky. We prayed that it would not rain and huddled together for warmth singing and trying to sleep. As the hours dragged on we contemplated our misery. At last it cleared and by the light of the stars we could see the dim shapes of the peaks around us. Shivering we waited for dawn.

Hilton and Polo had again ferried supplies over to the sub camp and returned to the Top Hut. They spent most of the time in the Top Hut and grubbed with Paul Latham’s party in the evening. They slept in the Tinker again.

Weather : A much better day clouding over towards midday and then clearing again in the evening.

Monday 21 July

We certainly had no trouble waking up in the morning! All night long we had been looking forward to the moment when we could bask in the sun, but our hopes were soon dashed when at about 06:00 we were enveloped in thick mist and it began to snow. Hopefully, we waited until 07:00, but as this bad weather showed no sign of abating, we ate a can of peaches we had been saving and started to pack up. It was bitterly cold as we made our way back up onto the knife edge where we despondently gazed in fascination at the thick sheets of fluted ice that had formed along the crest of the ridge during the night. Following the ridge to the summit now would surely involve extremely dangerous climbing! Disappointedly we made our way back to the bivouac site and then attempted to make a traverse at a slightly lower level. This was complicated but it was dry and we succeeded in reaching a point nearly 100 feet beyond the gap (climbing back into the gap didn’t look feasible). In the meantime the mist had become thicker and thicker and the snow falling more heavily. We waited for about another half an hour hoping the mist might lift sufficiently for us to see a possible line of attack directly above us, but to no avail. We desperately tried to climb the rocks above the furthest point we had reached but soon realised that this was going to be very difficult and risky. By now it was already 09:00 and, as we knew our descent was going to be highly problematic, we dejectedly decided to call it a day. Notwithstanding the fact that we had not been able to reach Batian’s final summit beacon, we felt that for all intents and purposes we had successfully completed our route and that there was no justification taking further risks to tick the last box. In a flurry of snowflakes we turned tail and fled!

After completing the traverse back along the ridge to our bivouac site, we got back onto the crest of the Northeast Ridge below its junction with the West Ridge and were appalled to see the icy state it was now in. Everywhere the rock was covered in ice and freshly fallen snow and only a little bare rock could be seen. Long fingers of ice formed by the wind pointed grotesque accusing fingers into the swirling mists. We began our descent.

Embarking on our very first abseil, the rope jammed and we were forced to climb to a point immediately beneath the abseil point. While Hans belayed me, I climbed back up the frozen rope to rectify our mistake. Fortunately when we abseiled again, the rope ran freely.

So it went on abseil after abseil and we watched our 60 feet of abseil cord dwindling with some alarm. Long icicles formed in our hair and on our clothes and still the snow just went on and on. On the easier sections we were able to downclimb, but anything that was at all steep we abseiled. Thankfully we reached the relative shelter at the base of Firmin’s Tower and then stumbled on down the screes to the series of huge slabs on the next section of the route, where we again roped down the first couple of hundred feet of our route of ascent. Halfway down the next abseil I noticed to my horror that the ends of the abseil rope were gently twirling in mid-air, so had to climb up again, which in this case was fortunately fairly easy. After changing our abseil point we continued down, eventually reaching the snowy neck at the top of the couloir. Though the snow had by now stopped falling, the rocks were still covered in a thick layer of verglas and we had to proceed with the utmost caution. When we reached the main fork in the couloir we started abseiling once more. At the end of the first abseil, Hans who was perched on a very small stance, just could not get the ropes to move. No matter what we tried they just would not run. Resignedly, I eventually took out the piton to which the abseil rope was attached, and had to climb down the iced rocks with Hans belaying me from below – a very unpleasant and dangerous pitch to descend. From the stance we had reached, we once more abseiled off a piton, but this time onto the scree at the bottom of the couloir. Thankfully we pulled the ropes down and coiled them – three feet of abseil cord remained! We stumbled into camp desperately tired, but happy in the knowledge that we had managed to make a safe descent. We quickly fetched water, ripped our wet clothes off and crawled into our bags. After a huge meal we dropped off to sleep almost immediately.

Hilton and Polo spent the whole day in the Top Hut playing dice and eating – there was not much else they could do and they certainly did not realise we were involved in such an epic.

Weather : Cloudy all day developing into blizzard conditions with a strong wind.

Tuesday 22 July

We had the luxury of being able to wake later in the morning and after cooking a large breakfast, crawled out of the tent. The weather was better and about an hour’s sunshine afforded us the opportunity for drying some of our kit. With time on our hands we crawled back into the tent in order to compile technical descriptions of the climbs on Point John and the Northeast Ridge. Not long afterwards we were disturbed by a yodel from outside. Thinking it was Hilton and Polo arriving, and wishing to surprise them, we lit a thunder flash and threw it among the boulders above the path. The explosion shook the earth and echoed in and out of the krantzes. To our surprise it was the rather shocked faces of Paul Latham’s party that eventually emerged above the rise – at first indignant until, upon hearing our news they became more docile, no doubt attributing the madness of these crazy South Africans to a night out on the mountain! Hilton and Polo arrived a short while later and also received our news with great pleasure – we were reunited once more! After coffee we all strolled down to the small tarn at the foot of the Northeast Ridge and in the slightly improved weather were able to see Sendeyo and some of the other outlying peaks, even catching odd glimpses of the Northeast and Northwest Ridges coming out of the clouds. They liked the tarn and were quite impressed by the huge sweep of the Northeast Ridge.

As it was already late, Paul Latham’s party left us to return to the Top Hut and we also slowly made our way back up the screes to our sub camp. We ate some lunch and then packed all the heavy gear into Hilton’s and Polo’s rucksacks for them to ferry the stuff back to the Top Hut. They left our sub camp at about 15:30.

Left on our own once more, we tidied up and soon after 17:00 crawled back into the tent just as it started snowing again. After a large supper, we read a bit more before falling asleep.

Weather : Clear spells alternating with mist all day. It began to snow at about 17:00 and continued snowing right through the night.

Wednesday 23 July

We again woke slightly later than usual and, poking our noses out of the tent, discovered that it was still completely overcast and again snowing slightly. I eventually managed to persuade Hans it would be an excellent idea for him to get out of bed and go and fetch some water for making breakfast! He duly completed this onerous task and after a fine breakfast we settled back into our sleeping bags waiting for the weather to clear up some more so that we could pack up and return to the Top Hut. It looked like it was going to be a long wait, so we wiled away the time composing a 500 word telegram to be sent off to Cape Town from Nanyuki describing our climb.

After lunch we realised that waiting any longer for the weather to improve was going to be futile, so we crawled out of the tent into a world of swirling snowflakes and we went about the laborious task of striking camp and packing the icy tent and other sodden gear into our rucksacks. This done, with a last fond glance at our camp site, we set off down the snow covered scree to the start of the long haul back to the Top Hut.

Slowed down by the huge weight of our rucksacks and the looseness of the screes, it took a while to reach the lip of the Gregory glacier. We strapped on our crampons here and continued climbing up the glacier to finally reach the neck between Point Lenana and Point Thomson and thankfully start down the long snow slope leading to the Top Hut on the other side. By now however the wind was blowing really hard driving snow and ice particles into our faces and causing us to lose all sense of direction, so much so that we soon realized we must have missed the line of crevasses we had to cross. So we traversed back to the left towards Point Lenana in order to find the line of crevasses, or if we were still too high, to meet the ridge leading up to Point Lenana. After about 15 minutes groping through this opaque white world, we did come out on the ridge at a point quite high up. Here the ice covered everything and the wind had fashioned long icicles and fluted patterns in the hard crusted snow.

Soon afterwards when we arrived at the Top Hut we were horrified to see our tents covered in an inch thick layer of ice and the guy ropes similarly looking almost like tree trunks the ice had built up so thickly on them. We realised that Hilton and Polo must have been living under these conditions since we left the Top Hut. Inside the hut we found a despondent mass of humanity gloomily talking about the comforts of civilization and the foolhardiness of climbing mountains!! Most of the Mombasa party had sought solace by burrowing still deeper into their sleeping bags and apparently scarcely eating for fear of having to venture outside!

After Hans and I had dumped our packs outside, we all got together in the hut to discuss our plans for getting off the mountain. We decided that Hans and Hilton should go down first thing the next morning to arrange our transport back to Nairobi, to settle up our finances and sort out the arrangements we would have to make for the transport of our kit down the mountain. Polo and I would pack up all our gear in the Top Hut and the tents and set off down the mountain with the mules that were scheduled to be at the Top Hut first thing the next morning.

That night, after a magnificent curry that Hilton prepared, Hans and I settled down on the hut floor while Hilton and Polo again braved the icy world outside to sleep in the tents.

Weather : We had blizzard conditions virtually all day long continuing into the night.

Thursday 24 July

Hilton and Hans managed to start out early from the hut, again in a snow storm - visibility going down was so bad that they very nearly missed the path going from the bottom of the scree back up the slope to the Two Tarn Hut. These conditions persisted all the way down the ridge below the hut to just above kampi ya farasi. All along this stretch snow still covered the ground turning the loose screes into an accumulative mud trap, but it was fairly easy to follow the right route because it was well beaconed. On the moorlands fine rain and mist still reduced visibility and slowed their progress.

Despite all these hindrances they made good time until they were about halfway through the forest when they unexpectedly came upon a herd of elephants blocking the path. Rather at a loss as to what they should do, they watched and filmed the animals from a distance of only some 15 yards, until Hans, tiring of this sport, lit our last thunder flash and threw it in the direction of the herd. The explosion did frighten the elephants, but they only moved a couple of hundred yards down the path before they stopped and started grazing again. By dint of much shouting the two climbers finally managed to chase the herd for perhaps another mile or so along the path, but still didn’t succeed in making the elephants leave it. However, obviously tiring of being chased, the herd did eventually take to the forest leaving Hilton and Hans in peace. In a final gesture of defiance, as Hilton and Hans were passing a dense clump of bamboo, one of the elephants rushed out flapping its ears and showed great interest in the intruders, causing an impressive increase in speed on the part of the climbers!

Hilton and Hans stopped at the game warden’s house and found he was at home. He introduced himself as David Allen and promptly invited them to stay there until the others came down, this generous hospitality typical of all the people we had met here.

By the time the mules finally arrived at the Top hut, it was already about 17:00. We were very annoyed as the mules were not only about 7 to 8 hours late, but the mule boys had obviously waited for the mules ordered by the Mombasa party for their transport the next day, to arrive. While we were waiting, Polo and I had managed to pack everything after a fashion, bundling it into sacks and boxes, still completely sodden and covered in ice. We loaded all our equipment onto two of the mules and set off for the Two Tarn Hut. The mule boy with us obviously had little knowledge of either the route to follow or how to manage the mules, with result that we had to spend an exasperating hour trying to catch a runaway mule and then found two members of the Mombasa party already in occupation at the hut when we got there. After unloading the mules, we moved the stuff we needed into the hut and got our stoves going to make supper while we waited for the rest of the Mombasa party to arrive. The mule boys went off with the mules to the shelter of a nearby cave.

Weather : Snow falling all day long. We noticed how much warmer it was at the Two Tarn Hut.

Friday 25 July

The mule boys arrived with the mules fairly early and we were pleased to see that the weather didn’t look quite as bad as the previous day. Polo and I had to load our equipment onto two of the mules ourselves as we could see that the mule boys were obviously completely incompetent in this respect. With this task completed to our satisfaction, we set out to go on down to the warm comforts of civilisation below, leaving the Mombasa party with the mules to descend later when all their kit had been packed. Though still cloudy, there was very little mist on the moorlands and we were able to make good time down to the forest camp where we had spent our first night on the way up the mountain. We stopped there and ate a leisurely lunch before continuing.

The signs of Hilton’s and Hans’ previous day’s excitement in the forest were still clear for us to see – literally thousands of elephant spoor churning up the forest track. After walking about five hours from the Two Tarn Hut (of which we had stopped half an hour for lunch), we arrived at the Game Warden’s house where we found Hilton and Hans, who introduced us to David Allen and his wife Jean. Their earlier invitation to Hilton and Hans was extended to us too and we very gratefully cleaned ourselves up and tried to remove some of the mud sticking to our clothes. Two members of the Mombasa party arrived a short while later and told us that the rest of their party was not far behind. Although we knew that the mules had been left to the mule boys to bring down, we were not unduly worried as we had been told that the descent would run smoothly and quickly, so we settled down to wait.

The other two members of the Mombasa party arrived after about an hour and told us that they had neither seen nor heard anything of the mules. After a gigantic tea provided by Jean Allen (where we all rather made pigs of ourselves), we said farewell to the Mombasa party as they departed for Nanyuki. We promised to unload their gear when it arrived on the mules. Oh, but it was wonderful to be able to enjoy the comforts of life at a lower altitude after the rigours of the high mountains – especially when kind people like the Allens so went out of their way to look after us.

When night fell we resigned ourselves to waiting until the Saturday for the mules. We spent a marvellous evening chatting with the Allens in front of a huge log fire, before finally climbing into bed and dropping off to sleep.

Weather : Better weather, but it still remained overcast all day.

Saturday 26 July

In the morning we sent Hilton and Polo off to Nanyuki with David and Jean in their Land Rover to organise our transport to Nairobi, while Hans and I waited for the mules. We waited and waited and as the hours went by we began to despair whether we would be able to get to Nairobi in time for our flight early on Sunday morning.

However, the mules did eventually arrive at 17:00 and after phoning Hilton and Polo at the Silverbeck hotel, we loaded all the kit from the mules onto a lorry that David had placed at our disposal, and asked the driver to take us to the hotel. Upon arriving at the hotel, we found that the Mombasa party were there too and after unloading our kit and thanking our driver, we helped them to pack and then bid them farewell as they drove off in their car.

We hired a taxi and drove to Nairobi, where we slept in the taxi for the few hours before we were due at the airport and then duly caught our flight on time!

Our adventure had come to an end!