‘Everest’, ‘Tibet’, the ‘Unclimbed Ridge’ – these proved to be the Open Sesame words that over and over made the unlikely possible and the possible actual. Liz Duff works for Scottish Life Assurance, and on impulse went to ask if she could add her various holiday periods past and future together to take six weeks off. Not only did they say yes, but they gave her extra unpaid holiday to cover the entire Expedition. She was very happy to be coming – partly for the adventure and partly because she was saved from the difficult position of staying at home waiting for news from the hill, which even when it comes is always out of date. ‘I’m not a great worrier about Malcolm,’ she said to me one evening in December, ‘because I’ve great faith he’ll be alright. Though this trip worries me a bit … It’s more that my being there saves him worrying about me and whether I’m paying the bills!’ It would be good having her there for her trenchant commonsense – and to keep up standards at Base and Advance Base. She’d done some rock and winter climbing in Britain, went with Mal to Nuptse, and hoped to do some load carrying on Everest if time and circumstance permitted.
We hadn’t at first considered Tony Brindle for the trip. He’d been Mal’s partner on the Mustagh Tower and they’d developed a good mocking father-and-son relationship there – but Tony was going into his final year in Outdoor Activities at Bangor College and didn’t want to jeopardize that. But Mal wrote directly to the Principal saying that this diminutive youth was indispensable, a star, and could he possibly be granted the chance to defer the last of his courses? He could, so Tony was in.
Tony is a small, compact Lancastrian born with an innocent butter-wouldn’t-melt face that belies his exceptional stamina. A few months older than Jon, because of his size, innocent appearance and open nature, he inevitably becomes the butt of much teasing – which as a rule he accepts with remarkable patience, though at the same time strengthening his resolve to prove himself as fast and fit as anybody. Unlike some of the climbers he never learned to hide his enthusiasm for climbing, hill-walking, fell-running, canoeing; he doesn’t go in for the customary pose of self-mockery and diffidence – which throws him open to more teasing. He was openly jubilant at having the chance to go to Everest, and Mal now had the satisfaction of having reunited the successful Mustagh team.
Our search for a doctor was becoming pressing when Julie suggested Urs Wiget, the Swiss doctor on the 1984 K2 expedition. He had been to 7,500 metres, had a lot of Alpine climbing behind him, and was knowledgeable about all aspects of the theory and practice of mountain medicine. Conscientious without fussing, he inspired confidence and trust from climbers. He was the best they’d known.
And so one day in late November Urs opened Mal’s letter in the surgery of an isolated village in Switzerland. ‘Merde!’ He beamed, frowned, then with a loud ‘Yahoo!’ rushed next door to see his wife Madeleine to ask if she could possibly once again handle the practice and the children alone for three months …
Allen Fyffe I’m writing this in Peking but this is how it started. In September or October ’84 Eileen and I were driving home from Inverness; at about Slocht a green car passed and in the back was this madly waving figure – Sandy Allan. Sandy got out and we chatted for a while about his last trip, routes, etc., and eventually he announced he was going to the North-East Ridge with Mal, etc., and Bob. He then asked me if I wanted to go. I prevaricated and said that I might see him in the Tavern for a pint that evening.
Eileen and I then talked about it and she said she wouldn’t mind if I went, so later that night I saw Sandy, had a few pints and said yes, I was on for it if I could get off work and the money was found. Then nothing happened for a long time so I eventually phoned Malcolm to see if I was in or out – I apparently was 1st reserve depending on money. Then I asked for time off and was to my surprise told that it should be no problem. Then eventually I was told I was included, the money was found from Pilkington’s and the trip was on.
I went to one team photocall in Glencoe which was good as for the first time I met the rest of the team and we had a chance to chat and discuss things. Only then did I get a vague feeling that it would happen …
In truth, Mal was uncertain whether to take Allen. At 39 he was a fair bit older than the rest of the team, and being mostly bald he was inevitably cast as the ‘old man’ of the team – but that was almost certainly an asset. Many Himalayan climbers seem to be at their peak in their forties, when experience, judgement and patience outweigh any decrease in pure power. Besides, a few older hands were needed to balance out the young revvers. And only Allen had had the experience of a large expedition, on Chris Bonington’s classic 1975 South-West Face of Everest expedition. No, the problem was on that trip he’d acclimatized badly and eventually was recovered, exhausted and scarcely in his right mind, on the fixed ropes at 7,300 metres. Mal had already gambled on Andy Nisbet’s acclimatization problem – could he afford to again? In the end he took him out of respect for his enormous mountaineering experience and good expedition character.
So that was the team completed: ten lead climbers plus a doctor who might well go high on the hill; Terry Dailey and myself to support as far as our abilities and other responsibilities would allow; Kurt and Julie to film; Dave Bricknell as Pilkington’s representative, Base and Advance Base organizer; Liz Duff playing a floating role – paying much of her own way, she was free to do as little or as much as she wanted; knowing her she’d do whatever she possibly could. And Sarah Squibb, Nick Kekus’s girlfriend, who was also paying her own way. She wanted to go to Tibet, to Everest, be with Nick, and hoped to learn something about Chinese music along the way.
By this time we had also acquired a large supporting cast. First an accountant to advise on and keep track of our finances, and then a lawyer. When a sponsor puts up £80,000 and the media put in additional cash, they naturally want clear contracts to ensure they have the exclusive rights and coverage they’re paying for. Pilks also engaged a PR firm to help create the media coverage and public awareness that would justify their sponsorship.
For all of us, apart from Allen Fyffe, this world of contracts, promotions, logos, newsletters, interviews and press conferences was new and slightly alarming. At times it felt as though the original point of the Expedition – the desire of a handful of people to take on the private and personal challenge of climbing the North-East Ridge of Everest – was being obscured by the bewildering spindrift of publicity and business. But dreams have to be worked for in an imperfect world and most of us went along with it all.
But we were taken aback by the scale and professionalism of the first press conference, where Pilkington’s announced the Expedition and their involvement in it. We drifted into the ballroom of a smart London hotel to find reporters and photographers waiting for us from all the national papers, in addition to radio and TV. Team jackets were laid out for us, each with the Pilks’ logo – the precise maximum size permitted on BBC – sewn across the chest. Beside them, the Expedition sweaters. Then labels with our names and roles in the team. A session at the free buffet and bar did little to diminish our sense of unreality.
Then Dave Bricknell, Terry Dailey, Mal and Julie did their bit for the Media. They explained our objective, that the North-East Ridge was the last unclimbed pure route on Everest, and probably the hardest of the lot. They went into its short and tragic history, explained our intention to use limited oxygen above 8,000 metres if necessary, the frightening statistics of the ‘Death Zone’. Then came the questions, most of them sensible and informed. ‘I suppose you’ll have to give up that,’ said one journalist, pointing at Mal’s cigarette.