Fearless on Everest: The Quest for Sandy Irvine (47 page)

‘I came down to II with George Mallory and got rather a nasty touch of the sun on the glacier as we came down a long trough sheltered from the wind with a leaden sun beating down on us.  Nevertheless, I had to forget all my troubles next morning as a report came in to the camp of an accident on the glacier.  We had to turn out and bring back a porter with a broken leg, while I had to go up towards Camp III to meet the rest of the party evacuating and hurry the doctor (Somervell) down to the sick man.

‘The same day half the Sahibs went right through to the Base Camp and all the rest to Camp I.  One porter had both feet and legs very badly frost-bitten.  We did not expect to save much below his knees but fortunately today the Doctor reports that he may be saved as far as his heels.

‘One of our N.C.O.s suddenly got paralysis at Camp II probably due to a clot on the brain from frost bitten fingers.  The poor fellow died within ½ a mile of the Base Camp being brought down on a stretcher.’

Despite the nature of the news he was telling Peter Lunn, Sandy appeared to be in good spirits and his account of the meeting with the High Lama, although brief, has a typical humorous twist.

‘Two days later we went down to the Rongbuk Monastery (porters, cooks and all) to be blessed by the chief Lama.  It was a very impressive ceremony.  The old Lama was very sensible and told the porters to work hard – obey their Sahibs and look after themselves.  He then prayed for fine weather as he thought it was a devil on the mountains making this quite exceptionally bad weather.  By a curious coincidence the very next day was perfect and so we decided to start right away on the following day.’

I like this tongue in cheek account of the visit to the monastery and particularly the implication that the mountain goddess had been touched by the Lama’s words into calling for better weather.  He went on,

‘Norton, Somervell, Mallory, Odell, Shebbeare and two lots of porters started up yesterday, while Hazard, Noel and I go in a few minutes, and Geoffrey Bruce, (and Beetham (if he’s well enough) follow tomorrow and Hingston stays at Base as Doctor.

‘I go right through to the North Col in 4 days if Mallory has been able to break a track from III to IV the day I arrive at III.  Then I come down and rest at III with George and go up again to the North Col for a couple of days and VI for one day and reach the summit on Ascension Day we hope!

In haste, Sandy Irvine’

Arnold Lunn wrote in his obituary notice to Sandy in 1924 ‘few young men would have had enough imagination to realise the joy which such letters would cause, or enough unselfishness to make the real effort to write them among all the excitements of that great adventure.’  Reading the letters for the first time in March 2001 I was able to understand just how Peter’s father must have felt.  The letters are fresh, optimistic and exude a liveliness which some of the accounts in his diary and his letters to Lilian do not.  Peter Lunn was, after all, only nine years old and Sandy wrote in a straightforward and direct way, telling not only the disasters but also the joys of the expedition and the letters sum up his whole approach to life.  Finding and reading them has closed the chapter for me on Sandy’s Everest experiences.

After John Irvine had sent the letters to me I rang Peter Lunn, who was in his winter quarters in Mürren.  I spoke to him while he was down at dinner and, unable to contain my excitement, I burst out that we had found the letters.  Peter’s reaction was one of quiet but unmistakable delight, ‘well, that’s magnificent’ he said.  I sent him copies of the letters the next day and he wrote by return: ‘you can imagine my excitement opening the envelope containing the letters from Sandy.  I was deeply touched by the two personal comments to me in the 30 April letter.  Sandy was one of the most modest and unassuming of men.  This is indeed proving a ‘magical story’.’

I believe that Sandy recognised in Peter Lunn something of himself at that age. Serious, considered, slightly shy but with an inquisitive mind that yearned to find answers to the myriad of questions racing around in his head. As a child Sandy had longed to be heard but in his early youth he had always been treated as the ‘one to keep an eye on’.  If ever there was a prank or a bit of trouble it was assumed that Sandy had been involved and was more than likely at the bottom of it too.  I think he felt kept down by his family and in particular by his elder brother Hugh.  So he was able to pay Peter Lunn the compliment he was probably himself never paid, at least until he got to Shrewsbury, to be listened to.  In this he showed not only great humanity and humility, but also a rare understanding of young people.

If at the planning stage for this book I was struck by how much Sandy managed to crowd into his twenty-two years I am not one bit less so now.  I am left with the overwhelming image of a man of great character and modesty, of humour and strength, but above all of somebody who felt compelled to give his all in whatever he did.  Peter Lunn wrote to me in November 2000 and had the following to say:

‘Child monarchs get into the history books; successful Olympic competitors hit the headlines but are quickly forgotten.  Sandy must be the youngest person ever to achieve by his own efforts a truly enduring fame.  In the long history of human endeavour there are hardly any enigmas more intriguing than what Sandy and Mallory did when they vanished upwards so close to the loftiest spot on earth.  Perhaps we shall one day have the proof that they did stand on the summit 29 years before anybody else.’

I feel that Peter had it right when he used the word ‘magical’ to describe the story, which developed around Sandy Irvine’s life.  I could hardly have hoped for Sandy’s rowing blazers to re-emerge, nor to see captured on film the recollections of a ninety-two year old man, nor especially to find the letters to Peter Lunn.  Yet they all materialised in the space of six months.  Is that it, now, I wonder?

Sandy Irvine’s life, brief though it was, had impact from school to the river, from the ice fields of the Arctic to the mountains of Tibet, from Birkenhead to Bombay.   When I started to research the book I began to understand just how many people had in one way or another been affected by his life and death.  

The Sandy Irvine Trust was set up in 1999 to preserve memorabilia relating to Sandy’s life and to benefit mountaineering charities by monies accrued through publication permissions and donations.  Its three trustees are all nephews or nieces of Sandy and they act on behalf of the now very large family, dealing with all matters that arise in connection with his memory.  John Irvine, in his role of Chairman of the Sandy Irvine Trust, has been extremely encouraging, for which I would like to thank him.

My family, both Irvine and Summers, have been marvellous in their support and enthusiasm.  They have shared personal memories and stories, made available material and photographs, most of which has never been published before, and I am very grateful to them all but reassure them that the conclusions I have drawn in the book are entirely my own.  My particular thanks go to Julia Irvine who has stood by me throughout and been a true friend.  It was she who made the great find of the Everest letters and I truly appreciate the way in which she made them available to me so quickly.  Also to my uncle, Bill Summers, who shared with great generosity his own material on Sandy and his memories of Willie, Lilian and Evelyn.  We spent a happy evening down memory lane over a bottle of wine and many of the stories about cars come from this meeting.

I had the great privilege to meet two people who knew Sandy in the 1920s: my cousin Ann Lake, daughter of Geoffrey Summers, who had a number of lovely memories she shared with me, and Peter Lunn who was nine when he met Sandy in Switzerland in 1923. Peter has kindly given permission for me to quote in full the letter he sent to Lilian after Sandy’s death which turned up in the trunk of material we found in May 2000.

I owe a deep debt of gratitude to Audrey Salkeld for her immense patience with me.  She has been unfailing in her support and wonderfully generous in her advice. It was she who encouraged me to put pen to paper in the first place.  She put me in touch with many key people concerned with the Everest story including Peter Odell, grandson of N. E. Odell, who has been so kind in giving me information relating to his grandfather and recalling anecdotes about Sandy told to him by his own father.  Through Audrey I also came into contact with Sandra Noel, daughter of the expedition photographer, Capt. John Noel who was most generous in lending me photographs for the book, and Dick and Bill Norton, sons of Colonel Edward Felix Norton.  They very kindly gave me permission to read their father’s 1922 and 1924 diaries, which provided a fascinating background to the picture of Tibet. I feel very fortunate to have been able to meet such exceptional people and am extremely grateful for their support.

Peter Gillman, biographer, with his wife Leni, of George Leigh Mallory, has been wonderfully helpful and I am very grateful to him for all his advice given at a time when he was completely occupied with their own book. 

When I came to write about Sandy’s rowing career it became obvious that I needed a great deal of guidance.  Richard Owen, a rower and mountaineer, claims he was inspired at Shrewsbury by the example of Sandy.  He spent a whole day coaching me in the art of writing about rowing and another day rowing me up and down the course at Henley in the middle of the 2000 Regatta.  I am deeply indebted to him.

When I began to uncover material on Sandy’s life it all needed documenting and photographing.  David Piper has been marvellous in taking many of the photographs of the original material for inclusion here.  I gave him horrendous deadlines and he always seemed to meet them.  I owe him many thanks and wish him well in his retirement which I hope wasn’t precipitated by my onerous requests.  Another key person was Flora Nell who worked tirelessly with me on this project from November 1999 and I have appreciated her support enormously, both from the point of view of research, her criticism during the formation of my ideas, and her efficient and methodical help in presenting the text. It was a race at the end to see whether the book would be finished before her baby son was born.  Thomas won by nine days. 

I could never have written this book without the help and support of my immediate family and closest friends.  My husband Chris and my three sons, Simon, Richard and Sandy have been endlessly patient and I love them very much.  Janice Haine and her daughter Daisy have been wonderful in keeping my three boys entertained, fed and the house in order while I have been hiding away upstairs writing.  I will miss Jan’s friendship when we move to Oxford.  To Deborah Kearns and Maggie Syversen I say a very big thank-you for keeping me sane and giving me support whenever I needed it.  I was advised to write the book ‘to’ someone and it was to these two friends that I turned my thoughts and pen.  Carolyn Butler and Nicola James have also helped me more than they could have imagined. 

My editor, Ion Trewin, made a great leap of faith when he agreed to take responsibility for publishing this book.  I feel very honoured to have had the chance to work with him.  His patience and kindness with me have been greatly appreciated.  His editorial team at Weidenfeld & Nicolson includes Alison Provan and Alice Chasey: I thank them for their input as well.  Simon Adams copy-edited the book and did a marvellous job for which I am most grateful.

There are many other people who have helped me with the research for this book. I worked last summer on an exhibition at Shrewsbury School in honour of Sandy’s memory and learnt a great deal from Stephen Holroyd, housemaster of Severn Hill and I thank him for all the information he made available to me.  At Merton College Library I met and worked with Sarah Bendall and Fiona Wilkes, who were extremely generous with their time and advice.  Roger Barrington braved the PRO and British Library archives on my behalf and unearthed some important material for me, for which I owe him a big thanks.  At Magdalene College, Cambridge librarians Dr Richard Luckett and Aude Fitzsimmons were very kind in allowing me to read Mallory’s letters from the 1920s.  At the Alpine Club I had the help and assistance of Margaret Ecclestone and Bob Lawford; and at the Royal Geographical Society of Huw Thomas and Joanna Scadden.

Graham Hoyland at the BBC offered great encouragement when I said I was going to write the book and has been hugely generous in sharing his own Everest experiences with me.  When the 2000 search was taking place on the mountain he made a very great effort to keep in touch about the goings-on in Tibet and I am profoundly grateful for his respect for Sandy’s memory.

In North Wales my father and I learned a great deal from meetings with Andrew Hinchliffe in Llanfairfechan and Peter Wilson in Llandyrnog and I am most grateful for their time and information. 

Other people have played a more personal role in this book, sharing memories and material, reading drafts and I thank them all very much indeed, in particular Russell Brice, Anne Cooksey, Gill Drake, Elizabeth Irvine, Jenny Irvine, Marjorie Irvine, Christopher and Libby Milling, Fiona Morrison, Sheila Pearson, Vera Steele, Rebecca Stephens, Mark Summers and Patrick Toosey.

Finally, much of this book is the result of a very happy and productive partnership between myself and my father, Peter.  His unstinting support and absolute faith in my abilities is hugely appreciated.  He chased librarians, churchwardens, archivists and family members on my behalf.  More than anything else, however, we have had such fun working together and I could not have teased out half the stories I have about Sandy without his participation, patience, humour and brilliant mind.

Abraham, George & Abraham, Ashley;
Rock Climbing in North Wales
G. P. Abraham 1906