Survivor: The Autobiography Part 7

French climber. In 1950 Herzog led the first conquest of Annapurna, reaching the summit himself along with Louis Lachenal. It was the first 8,000-metre peak to be scaled. On the descent, the monsoon broke around the French team, producing appalling weather; several of the expedition were attacked by frostbite particularly Herzog himself, who had lost his gloves near the summit and snow-blindness.

I hurried everyone up; we must get down that was our first objective. As for the equipment, well it could not be helped; we simply must be off the mountain before the next onslaught of the monsoon. For those of us with frostbitten limbs it was a matter of hours. I chose Aila and Sarki to escort Rebuffat, Lachenal and myself. I tried to make the two Sherpas understand that they must watch me very closely and hold me on a short rope. For some unknown reason, neither Lachenal nor Rebuffat wished to rope.

While we started down, Schatz, with Angtharkay and Pansy, went up to fetch Terray who had remained on the glacier above. Schatz was master of the situation none of the others were capable of taking the slightest initiative. After a hard struggle, he found Terray: 'You can get ready in a minute,' he said.

'I'm beginning to feel my feet again,' replied Terray, now more amenable to reason.

'I'm going to have a look in the creva.s.se. Maurice couldn't find the camera and it's got all the shots he took high up.'

Terray made no reply; he had not really understood, and it was only several days later that we fully realised Schatz's heroism. He spent a long time searching the snow at the bottom of the cavern, while Terray began to get anxious; at last he returned triumphantly carrying the camera which contained the views taken from the summit. He also found my ice-axe and various other things, but no cine-camera, so our last film shots would stop at 23,000 feet.

Then the descent began. Angtharkay was magnificent, going first and cutting comfortable steps for Terray. Schatz, coming down last, carefully safeguarded the whole party.

Our first group was advancing slowly. The snow was soft and we sank in up to our knees. Lachenal grew worse: he frequently stopped and moaned about his feet. Rebuffat was a few yards behind me.

I was concerned at the abnormal heat, and feared that bad weather would put an end here and now to the epic of Annapurna. It is said that mountaineers have a sixth sense that warns them of danger suddenly I became aware of danger through every pore of my body. There was a feeling in the atmosphere that could not be ignored. Yesterday it had snowed heavily, and the heat was now working on these great ma.s.ses of snow which were on the point of sliding off. Nothing in Europe can give any idea of the force of these avalanches. They roll down over a distance of miles and are preceded by a blast that destroys everything in its path.

The glare was so terrific that without gla.s.ses it would have been impossible to keep one's eyes open. By good luck we were fairly well s.p.a.ced out, so that the risk was diminished. The Sherpas no longer remembered the different pitches, and often with great difficulty, I had to take the lead and be let down on the end of the rope to find the right way. I had no crampons and I could not grasp an axe. We lost height far too slowly for my liking, and it worried me to see my Sherpas going so slowly and carefully and at the same time so insecurely. In actual fact they went very well, but I was so impatient I could no longer judge their performance fairly.

Lachenal was a long way behind us and every time I turned round he was sitting down in the track. He, too, was affected by snow-blindness, though not as badly as Terray and Rebuffat, and found difficulty in seeing his way. Rebuffat went ahead by guesswork, with agony in his face, but he kept on. We crossed the couloir without incident, and I congratulated myself that we had pa.s.sed the danger zone.

The sun was at its height, the weather brilliant and the colours magnificent. Never had the mountains appeared to me so majestic as in this moment of extreme danger.

All at once a crack appeared in the snow under the feet of the Sherpas, and grew longer and wider. A mad notion flashed into my head to climb up the slope at speed and reach solid ground. Then I was lifted up by a super-human force, and as the Sherpas disappeared before my eyes, I went head over heels. I could not see what was happening. My head hit the ice. In spite of my efforts I could no longer breathe, and a violent blow on my left thigh caused me acute pain. I turned round and round like a puppet. In a flash I saw the blinding light of the sun through the snow which was pouring past my eyes. The rope joining me to Sarki and Aila curled round my neck the Sherpas shooting down the slope beneath would shortly strangle me, and the pain was unbearable. Again and again I crashed into solid ice as I went hurtling from one serac to another, and the snow crushed me down. The rope tightened round my neck and brought me to a stop. Before I had recovered my wits I began to pa.s.s water, violently and uncontrollably.

I opened my eyes to find myself hanging head downwards, with the rope round my neck and my left leg in a sort of hatchway of blue ice. I put out my elbows towards the walls in an attempt to stop the unbearable pendulum motion which sent me from one side to the other, and caught a glimpse of the final slopes of the couloir beneath me. My breathing steadied and I blessed the rope which had stood the strain of the shock.

I simply had to try to get myself out. My feet and hands were numb, but I was able to make use of some little nicks in the wall. There was room for at least the edges of my boots. By frenzied, jerky movements I succeeded in freeing my left leg from the rope and then managed to right myself and to climb up a yard or two. After every move I stopped, convinced that I had come to the end of my physical strength, and that in a second I should have to let go.

One more desperate effort, and I gained a few inches I pulled on the rope and felt something give at the other end no doubt the bodies of the Sherpas. I called, but hardly a whisper issued from my lips. There was a death-like silence. Where was Gaston?

Conscious of a shadow, as from a pa.s.sing cloud, I looked up instinctively; and lo and behold! two scared black faces were framed against the circle of blue sky. Aila and Sarki! They were safe and sound, and at once set to work to rescue me. I was incapable of giving them the slightest advice. Aila disappeared, leaving Sarki alone at the edge of the hole; they began to pull on the rope, slowly, so as not to hurt me, and I was hauled up with a power and steadiness that gave me fresh courage. At last I was out. I collapsed on the snow.

The rope had caught over a ridge of ice and we had been suspended on either side; by good luck the weight of the two Sherpas and my own had balanced. If we had not been checked like this we should have hurtled down another 1,500 feet. There was chaos all around us. Where was Rebuffat? I was mortally anxious, for he was unroped. Looking up I caught sight of him less than a hundred yards away: 'Anything broken?' he called out to me.

I was greatly relieved, but I had no strength to reply. Lying flat, and semi-conscious, I gazed at the wreckage about me with unseeing eyes. We had been carried down for about 500 feet. It was not a healthy place to linger in suppose another avalanche should fall! I instructed the Sherpas: 'Now Doctor Sahib. Quick, very quick!'

By gestures I tried to make them understand that they must hold me very firmly. In doing this I found that my left arm was practically useless. I could not move it at all; the elbow had seized up was it broken? We should see later. Now, we must push on to Oudot.

Rebuffat started down to join us, moving slowly; he had to place his feet by feel alone, and seeing him walk like this made my heart ache; he, too, had fallen, and he must have struck something with his jaw, for blood was oozing from the corners of his mouth. Like me, he had lost his gla.s.ses and we were forced to shut our eyes. Aila had an old spare pair which did very well for me, and without a second's hesitation Sarki gave his own to Rebuffat.

We had to get down at once. The Sherpas helped me up, and I advanced as best I could, reeling about in the most alarming fas.h.i.+on, but they realised now that they must hold me from behind. I skirted round the avalanche to our old track which started again a little farther on.

We now came to the first wall. How on earth should we get down? Again, I asked the Sherpas to hold me firmly: 'Hold me well because . . .'

And I showed them my hands.

'Yes, sir,' they replied together like good pupils. I came to the piton; the fixed rope attached to it hung down the wall and I had to hold on to it there was no other way. It was terrible; my wooden feet kept slipping on the ice wall, and I could not grasp the thin line in my hands. Without letting go I endeavoured to wind it round them, but they were swollen and the skin broke in several places. Great strips of it came away and stuck to the rope and the flesh was laid bare. Yet I had to go on down; I could not give up halfway.

'Aila! Pay attention! . . . Pay attention!'

To save my hands I now let the rope slide over my good forearm and lowered myself like this in jerks. On reaching the bottom I fell about three feet, and the rope wrenched my forearm and wrists. The jolt was severe and affected my feet. I heard a queer crack and supposed I must have broken something no doubt it was the frostbite that prevented me from feeling any pain.

Rebuffat and the Sherpas came down and we went on, but it all seemed to take an unconscionably long time, and the plateau of Camp II seemed a long way off. I was just about at the limit of my strength. Every minute I felt like giving up; and why, anyway, should I go on when for me everything was over? My conscience was quite easy: everyone was safe, and the others would all get down. Far away below I could see the tents. Just one more hour I gave myself one more hour and then, wherever I was, I would lie down in the snow. I would let myself go, peacefully. I would be through with it all, and could sleep content.

Setting this limit somehow cheered me on. I kept slipping, and on the steep slope the Sherpas could hardly hold me it was miraculous that they did. The track stopped above a drop the second and bigger of the walls we had equipped with a fixed rope. I tried to make up my mind, but I could not begin to see how I was going to get down. I pulled off the glove I had on one hand, and the red silk scarf that hid the other, which was covered in blood. This time everything was at stake and my fingers could just look after themselves. I placed Sarki and Aila on the stance from which I had been accustomed to belay them, and where the two of them would be able to take the strain of my rope by standing firmly braced against each other. I tried to take hold of the fixed rope; both my hands were bleeding, but I had no pity to spare for myself and I took the rope between my thumb and forefinger, and started off. At the first move I was faced at once with a painful decision: if I let go, we should fall to the bottom: if I held on, what would remain of my hands? I decided to hold on.

Every inch was a torture I was resolved to ignore. The sight of my hands made me feel sick; the flesh was laid bare and red, and the rope was covered with blood. I tried not to tear the strips right off: other accidents had taught me that one must preserve these bits to hasten the healing process later on. I tried to save my hands by braking with my stomach, my shoulders, and every other possible point of contact. When would this agony come to an end?

I came down to the nose of ice which I myself had cut away with my axe on the ascent. I felt about with my legs it was all hard. There was no snow beneath. I was not yet down. In panic I called up to the Sherpas: 'Quick . . . Aila . . . Sarki . . . !'

They let my rope out more quickly and the friction on the fixed rope increased.

My hands were in a ghastly state. It felt as though all the flesh was being torn off. At last I was aware of something beneath my feet the ledge. I had made it! I had to go along it now, always held by the rope; only three yards, but they were the trickiest of all. It was over. I collapsed, up to the waist in snow, and no longer conscious of time.

When I half-opened my eyes Rebuffat and the Sherpas were beside me, and I could distinctly see black dots moving about near the tents of Camp II. Sarki spoke to me, and pointed out two Sherpas coming up to meet us. They were still a long way off, but all the same it cheered me up.

I had to rouse myself; things were getting worse and worse. The frostbite seemed to be gaining ground up to my calves and my elbows. Sarki put my gla.s.ses on for me again, although the weather had turned grey. He put one glove on as best he could; but my left hand was in such a frightful state that it made him sick to look at it, and he tried to hide it in my red scarf.

The fantastic descent continued and I was sure that every step would be my last. Through the swirling mist I sometimes caught glimpses of the two Sherpas coming up. They had already reached the base of the avalanche cone, and when, from the little platform I had just reached, I saw them stop there, it sapped all my courage.

Snow began to fall, and we now had to make a long traverse over very unsafe ground where it was difficult to safeguard anyone: then, fifty yards farther, we came to the avalanche cone. I recognised Phutharkay and Angdawa mounting rapidly towards us. Evidently they expected bad news, and Angdawa must have been thinking of his two brothers, Aila and Pansy. The former was with us all right he could see him in the flesh but what about Pansy? Even at this distance they started up a conversation, and by the time we reached them they knew everything. I heaved a deep sigh of relief. I felt now as if I had laid down a burden so heavy that I had nearly given way beneath it. Phutharkay was beside me, smiling affectionately. How can anyone call such people 'primitive', or say that the rigours of their existence take away all sense of pity? The Sherpas rushed towards me, put down their sacks, uncorked their flasks. Ah, just to drink a few mouthfuls! Nothing more. It had all been such a long time . . .

Phutharkay lowered his eyes to my hands and lifted them again, almost with embarra.s.sment. With infinite sorrow, he whispered: 'Poor Bara Sahib Ah . . .'

These reinforcements gave me a fresh access of courage, and Camp II was near. Phutharkay supported me, and Angdawa safeguarded us both. Phutharkay was smaller than I, and I hung on round his neck and leant on his shoulders, gripping him close. This contact comforted me and his warmth gave me strength. I staggered down with little jerky steps, leaning more and more on Phutharkay. Would I ever have the strength to make it even with his help? Summoning what seemed my very last ounce of energy, I begged Phutharkay to give me yet more help. He took my gla.s.ses off and I could see better then. Just a few more steps the very last . . .

My friends all rallied round they took off my gloves and my cagoule and settled me into a tent already prepared to receive us. I found this simplification intensely comforting: I appreciated my new existence which, though it would be short-lived, was for the moment so easy and pleasant. In spite of the threatening weather the others were not long in arriving: Rebuffat was the first his toes were frostbitten, which made it difficult for him to walk and he looked ghastly, with a trickle of blood from his lips, and signs of suffering writ large on his face. They undressed him, and put him in a tent to await treatment.

Lachenal was still a long way off. Blind, exhausted, with his frostbitten feet, how could he manage to follow such a rough and dangerous track? In fact, he got over the little creva.s.se by letting himself slide down on his bottom. Couzy caught up with him on his way down and, although desperately weary himself, gave him invaluable a.s.sistance.

Lionel Terray followed closely behind them, held on a rope by Schatz, who was still in fine fettle. The little group drew nearer to the camp. The first man to arrive was Terray, and Marcel Ichac went up towards the great cone to meet him. Terray's appearance was pitiful. He was blind, and clung to Angtharkay as he walked. He had a huge beard and his face was distorted by pain into a dreadful grin. This 'strong man', this elemental force of nature who could barely drag himself along, cried out: 'But I'm still all right. If I could see properly, I'd come down by myself.'

When he reached camp Oudot and Noyelle were aghast. Once so strong, he was now helpless and exhausted. His appearance moved them almost to tears.

Immediately after, Schatz and Couzy arrived, and then Lachenal, practically carried by two Sherpas. From a distance it looked as though he was pedalling along in the air, for he threw his legs out in front in a most disordered way. His head lolled backwards and was covered with a bandage. His features were lined with fatigue and spoke of suffering and sacrifice. He could not have gone on for another hour. Like myself, he had set a limit which had helped him to hold on until now. And yet Biscante, at such a moment, still had the spirit to say to Ichac: 'Want to see how a Chamonix guide comes down from the Himalaya?'

Ichac's only reply was to hold out to him a piece of sugar soaked in adrenalin.

It was painful to watch Terray groping for the tent six inches from his nose: he held both hands out in front of him feeling for obstacles. He was helped in, and he lay down; then Lachenal, too, was laid on an air mattress.

Everyone was now off the mountain and a.s.sembled at Camp II. But in what a state! It was Oudot's turn to take the initiative, and he made a rapid tour of inspection. Faced with the appalling sight that we presented, his countenance reflected, now the consternation of the friend, now the surgeon's impersonal severity.

He examined me first. My limbs were numb up to well beyond the ankles and wrists. My hands were in a frightful condition; there was practically no skin left, the little that remained was black, and long strips dangled down. My fingers were both swollen and distorted. My feet were scarcely any better: the entire soles were brown and violet, and completely without feeling. The arm which was hurting me, and which I was afraid might be broken, did not appear to be seriously injured, and my neck was all right.

I was anxious to have Oudot's first impression.

'What do you think of it all?' I asked him, ready to hear the worst.

'It's pretty serious. You'll probably lose part of your feet and hands. At present I can't say more than that.'

'Do you think you'll be able to save something?'

'Yes, I'm sure of it. I'll do all I can.'

This was not encouraging, and I was convinced that my feet and hands would have to be amputated.

Oudot took my blood pressure and seemed rather concerned. There was no pressure in the right arm, and the needle did not respond at all on my left arm. On my legs the needle oscillated slightly, indicating a restricted flow of blood. After putting a dressing over my eyes to prevent the onset of ophthalmia; he said: 'I'm going to see Lachenal. I'll come back in a moment and give you some injections. I used them during the war and it's the only treatment that's any use with frostbite. See you presently.'

Lachenal's condition was slightly less serious. His hands were not affected, and the black discolouration of his feet did not extend beyond the toes, but the sinister colour reappeared on his heels. He would very likely lose his toes, but that would probably not prevent him from climbing, and from continuing to practise his profession as a guide.

Rebuffat's condition was much less serious. His feet were pink except for two small grey patches on his toes. Ichac ma.s.saged him with Dolpyo for two hours and this appeared to relieve him; his eyes were still painful, but that was only a matter of two or three days. Terray was unscathed: like Rebuffat he was suffering from ophthalmia most painful, but only a temporary affliction. Couzy was very weak, and would have to be considered out of action. That was the balance sheet.

Night fell gradually. Oudot made his preparations, requisitioned Ichac and Schatz as nurses, and Camp II was turned into a hospital. In cold and discomfort, and to the accompaniment of continual avalanches, these men fought late into the night to save their friends. Armed with torches, they pa.s.sed from tent to tent, bending over the wounded and giving them emergency treatment, at this minute camp, perched 20,000 feet up on the flanks of one of the highest mountains in the world.

Oudot made ready to give me arterial injections. The lamp shone feebly and in the semi-darkness Ichac sterilised the syringes as best he could with ether. Before starting operations, Oudot explained: 'I am going to inject novocaine into your femoral and brachial arteries.'

As I could not see a thing with the bandage over my eyes, he touched with his finger the places where he would insert the needle: both groins and in the bends of my elbows.

'It's going to hurt. Perhaps I shan't get the right place first shot. But in any case you mustn't move, particularly when I have got into the artery.'

I was not at all rea.s.sured by these preparations; I had always had a horror of injections. But it would have to be done, it was the only thing possible.

'Go ahead,' I said to Oudot, 'but warn me when you are going to stab.'

Anyhow, perhaps it would not hurt all that much in my present condition. I heard the murmur of voices Oudot asking if something was ready, and Ichac answering: 'Here you are. Got it?'

Oudot ran his fingers over my skin. I felt an acute pain in the groin and my legs began to tremble; I tried to control myself. He had to try again, for the artery rolled away from the needle. Another stab, and my whole body was seized with convulsions, I stiffened when I should have relaxed, and felt all my nerves in revolt.

'Gently!' I could not help myself.

Oudot began again: my blood was extremely thick and clotted in the needle.

'Your blood is black it's like black pudding,' he said in amazement.

'That's got it!' This time he had succeeded in spite of my howls which, I knew very well, made the operation all the more difficult to perform. The needle was now in position: 'Don't move!' Oudot shouted at me. Then to Ichac: 'Hand it over!'

Ichac pa.s.sed him the syringe; I felt the needle moving in my flesh and the liquid began to flow into the artery. I should never, until then, have believed so much pain to be possible. I tried to brace myself to the utmost to keep myself from trembling: it simply had to be successful! The liquid went on flowing in.

'Can you feel any warmth?' asked Oudot, brusquely, while he was changing the syringe. Again the liquid went in; I gritted my teeth.

'Does it feel warm?'

Oudot was insistent the point was evidently crucial; yet still I felt nothing. Several times the syringe was emptied, filled up, and emptied again: 'Now, do you feel anything?'

'I seem to feel a little warmth, but it's not very definite.'

Was it auto-suggestion? The needle was withdrawn abruptly, and while Ichac sterilised the instruments. I had a few moments respite.

'It's excruciating, the way it hurts,' I said, just as if Oudot needed telling!

'Yes, I know, but we must go on.'

Oudot amputated the ends of all Herzog's fingers and toes. Herzog never climbed again, but turned instead to politics, becoming the French Minister of Sport.

New Zealand gold-digger. In 1863 he led a prospecting party to north-east Otago.

21 April Very heavy rain has now set in and every appearance of its continuing. This is the heaviest rain I have seen since I left Victoria. The lake has risen four feet today, and the rivers are at a fearful height. Nothing to eat since a small snack this morning. There is nothing at all that we can find here eatable no fern root, no spear-gra.s.s, no annis, or any vegetable whatever; nothing but stones, timber and water. I am certain we can get payable gold here if we can only get to work. It continued to rain at a fearful rate during the four following days, and flooded the lake and river, entirely precluding any work. Obtained just sufficient game to keep life in us, only after great hards.h.i.+ps and difficulties.

26 April Foggy morning; cleared up about 12; put our blankets out to dry. One of the boys started early this morning to look after some game, but returned without any. Have but about 4lbs oatmeal now, and are 80 miles from the Wakatip in a straight line, but it will take us twice 80 to get there. My two mates made up their minds to start back again the first fine day we get, but I do not fancy going back the same route. I have tried all I know to induce them to continue east with me, as we cannot be more than 30 miles from the west river running into Lake Hawea, which lies NE from the Wanaka Lake, and which I believe to be the centre of the golden line of country, as the farther we get eastward the better we find the gold, and it is not half the distance that it is to the Wakatip. They however refused, and I then said I should go alone, which I was afterwards sorry I did not do, as I believe we had got almost to the end of the chain of mountains which runs north to Jackson's Bay from the Wakatip. If I had had a dog nothing should have prevented me from going alone, as I know it cannot be a worse road than we have had coming here.

27 April Turned out early and tore up one of my blankets to make s.h.i.+rts, as my clothes were worn out in the bush. The river and creeks so high that we cannot cross any of them; the smallest stream a few days since is now impa.s.sable.

28 April Rained till night, when it cleared up. Made a good fire and dried our clothes, ready for a start back in the morning, should it be fine. We are all very weak for the want of sufficient food. If we could travel we could always get sufficient food, but it is having to camp in wet weather that kills us.

29 April Packed up a few things which we cannot do well without, leaving behind picks, shovels, tin dishes, gimlets, nails, spokeshave, chisels, and several other things, which made our swags much lighter, but they felt just as heavy, on account of our weak state. We got a few miles up the river south, and had a good feed on some paradise ducks that we shot, turned in and felt much refreshed. The place we left this morning is situated about half a mile east of the river, lies due south from Jackson's Bay, and 30 miles east of the coast.

30 April Continued on our course up the river a very bushy sideling of a steep mountain gorge, with the white foam of the river some hundreds of feet below us jumping from one precipice to another, which under any other circ.u.mstances would have looked pretty. We did not, however, stop long to admire it, as then it looked hideous. Toiled away till night, when we had a hard matter to find a piece of ground 6 ft square on which to pitch the tent, and harder still to light a fire and cook four magpies we had shot on the road.

1 May Got up the river a few miles and came to a precipice and a very large and deep waterfall. It took us a long time to ascend, but we succeeded after many difficulties and dangers, our lives many times depending on a few blades of gra.s.s, which grow out of the face of the rocks. After a few miles further we came to a nice flat, where we could see there was any amount of game. Camped here the following day, hunting.

3 May Crossed the river and up the saddle, which leads up the side of a large burnt mountain; in gaining the top of which we had a few hours of fearful danger. The stones are so soft or rotten that we could not tell the moment our feet would give way and down we should go several hundred feet. At one time we were two hours getting twenty yards. Reached the top at one p.m. Ran it along south, which way our course lay, till near dark, then camped at the side of a little creek running down the side of the mountain higher up. There are three small lakes on this mountain nearly of the same size, with a few ducks on them.

4 May Made an early start, but it commenced raining about 10 a.m. and continued so all day. I lost the run of my mates all of a sudden, I having kept a little lower down on the side of the mountain. I thought nothing of it at the time, as we had often parted and met together again, but this time I cooeyed and got no answer. Thinking they were ahead I hurried on, but left them behind. Cooeyed all the way as I went, but got no answer. Could see the river down under me in the flat; got down, waited for an hour, but no sign of them; fired two guns hoping they would hear them, but no answer; so I gave them up, thinking that they had crossed along the side and over the mountain more to the eastward. I proceeded to follow up the river all the afternoon and shot one blue mountain duck, which I may say is all the provisions I have. I am very badly fitted for the road before me, having no dog and every appearance of a week or two's rain, as at every change of the moon we have had a week's rain lately, sometimes more. I have about three-quarters of a pound of oatmeal and a long weary road to travel. Travelled all the afternoon up the river; saw several creeks coming in, with quartz reefs showing and quartz boulders, and every indication of gold, but did not stop, as I had nothing to try a bit of dirt with. Still continued walking. Camped.

5 May I am camped on the side of a mountain by the side of a foaming creek, the rain coming down in torrents; cannot light a fire. Got two little ducks, but cannot cook them; had raw oatmeal for breakfast; have had nothing since yesterday morning, and walked all day, then pitched the tent and turned in with wet clothes and blankets. Got a fire at night, cooked one of my little ducks and ate it.

6 May Still raining, with snow mixed. I am certain this is snow on the mountains; if so I shall have a hard matter to get over. Very cold; could not sleep last night, my teeth cracking together all night with cold, and cramp in my legs. I do not feel at all well. The rats stole my little duck, which I intended for this day's food. This is the first day I have been heartily sick of the country. Nothing to eat; cannot light a fire; all my clothes and blankets wet. I am indeed miserable.

7 May Turned out and had a look; any amount of snow on the surrounding hills, and still snowing fast and freezing. Turned in again; slept all day, or rather stopped in bed.

8 May Still snowing and no sign of a change; no food.

9 May Turned out early; any amount of snow in the night. I do not know what to do now. I intended to have started this morning, wet or dry, snow or rain, but I am completely jammed in. I cannot move; snow falling thick and fast. Whether to go back and follow the river round to Plenty Lake, or to try and get over the mountains to Mineral Creek is a consideration which I cannot decide on. Night coming on again; nothing to eat, and fearfully cold.

10 May Turned out early; wrung the tent and clothes as well as I could, packed up and tried to go right up the mountain to the eastward, in hopes of seeing a smoke from my mates' fire, knowing they cannot be far off; but after toiling hard for half a day and falling in the snow head-first some hundreds of times, found it impossible to get up. Had to start away for the river again, and try and get up to its head and over the saddle. I have not eaten anything now for several days. There is a little spear-gra.s.s here; if I could get a fire to boil, or rather roast it, I think I could pa.s.s a day or two, but even that is forbidden. It is now snowing; two feet six inches solid snow by my tent, and I believe there is a deal more on the mountain. Turned into my wet blankets again for another night's misery.

11 May Could not sleep a minute all night; had to keep my legs and feet constantly in motion to keep the blood in circulation, and if I stopped a minute my feet felt dead with cold, and I should have the cramp in my legs. My clothes are still wet; there can be very little heat in me, or my clothes would dry sleeping in them all night; I must try and get a fire before I leave here if possible, to dry my blankets and flannels or another night like last will cook me. Rain, snow, and sleet, very heavy all day. Tried hard to get a fire, but could not; turned in again to my wet blankets.

12 May Rain and sleet very heavy; looks very bad; cannot get out of the tent; I do not know what is to be done, so turn into my wet blankets again to keep me warm, for it is fearful cold, thinking of Edward Dunmore and the 'Maori Hen'. If I have to stop here a few days more I shall be just as bad. (By the bye, I forgot to mention that I made every enquiry possible about the 'Maori Hen', but could not hear whether he got to Fox's or not.) I have had one little duck to eat for the last six days, yet strange to say I do not feel hungry. This will not do much longer, but on the side of a mountain covered with three or four feet of snow it is a hard matter to get food of any description. Went out in the afternoon to try and shoot something, but could not see anything to shoot not even a robin. Found a root of spear-gra.s.s, ate some of it but could not enjoy it raw; then turned in for another night's rocking about.

13 May Turned out this morning with the intention of making a start, but the weather is so bad I am afraid to stir, it is raining heavily and the snow is thawing a little.

14 May Turned out early; wrung the tent and other things, which were very wet, packed up once more, and made a start. Got on very well for about half a mile, when my legs began to fail me, and I found I could not get more than twenty yards at a spell. Toiled away till I saw by the sun it was nearly noon, and I had not got one mile away from the timber where I was camped, and was completely done, so there was nothing for it but desert my swag or die here. The former idea I carried into effect. I threw away everything but my blankets, gun, and a little powder and shot, which was my only dependence. Amongst the things I abandoned was a couple of specimens which we got in the Little River, and a small parcel of gold, which we found in prospecting, with maps, books, etc., all of which I have before mentioned. After throwing away my swag I had a very hard task to get up the hill, as there was over two feet snow and very soft. I kept slipping and falling, till at length I arrived at the top of the saddle and saw a creek at the other side, and a gra.s.sy flat about a mile long and half a mile wide. I got to the river by sundown, and was going to the west end of the flat to camp, and try to get a duck or something to eat; but on looking up the creek I saw a smoke, which I went to and found my mates camped there. They were surprised to see me. I was greatly reduced since they saw me, and was very weak just able to put one foot before another. I asked them if they had anything to eat; they said they had had nothing that day, but they started hunting, and got two Maori hens which they gave me, and with the heat of the fire I was much refreshed.

15 May Rained all day till noon. Miserable living; we are just alive and very weak.

16 May Turned out and started up the creek with nothing to eat; walked all day up right-hand branch of Wild Dog Creek; shot two magpies at noon and ate them raw, which refreshed us much at the time. We reached a long way up by night and camped under an overhanging rock, just under the snow. Nothing to eat but a little gra.s.s root: fearfully cold.