Annapurna: The First Conquest of an 8,000-Meter Peak [NOOK Book]

Overview

Mountaineer Maurice Herzog gives a gripping firsthand account of one of the most daring climbing expeditions in historyAnnapurna I is the name given to the 8,100-meter mountain that ranks among the most forbidding in the Himalayan chain. Dangerous not just for its extreme height but for a long and treacherous approach, its summit proved unreachable until 1950, when a group of French mountaineers made a mad dash for its peak. They became the first men to accomplish the feat, doing so without oxygen tanks or any of...
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Annapurna: The First Conquest of an 8,000-Meter Peak

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Overview

Mountaineer Maurice Herzog gives a gripping firsthand account of one of the most daring climbing expeditions in historyAnnapurna I is the name given to the 8,100-meter mountain that ranks among the most forbidding in the Himalayan chain. Dangerous not just for its extreme height but for a long and treacherous approach, its summit proved unreachable until 1950, when a group of French mountaineers made a mad dash for its peak. They became the first men to accomplish the feat, doing so without oxygen tanks or any of the modern equipment that contemporary climbers use. The adventure nearly cost them their lives. Maurice Herzog dictated this firsthand account of the remarkable trek from a hospital bed as he recovered from injuries sustained during the climb. An instant bestseller, it remains one of the most famous mountaineering books of all time, and an enduring testament to the power of the human spirit.
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Editorial Reviews

From the Publisher
"Outdoor Classic" Winner of the 2010 National Outdoor Book Awards

“The most influential mountaineering book of all time.”

National Geographic Adventure

 

“Those who have never seen the Himalayas, those who never care to risk an assault, will know when they finish this book that they have been a companion of greatness.”
New York Times Book Review

 

“Before Everest, there was Annapurna. Frenchman Herzog led the first summitting of an 8,000-meter peak, dictating his story because he had lost all his fingers to frostbite.”
Sports Illustrated

“While the ascent is thrilling enough, the harrowing descent . . . truly boggles the mind.”
The Week

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Product Details

  • ISBN-13: 9781453220733
  • Publisher: Open Road Publishing
  • Publication date: 7/26/2011
  • Sold by: Barnes & Noble
  • Format: eBook
  • Pages: 316
  • Sales rank: 106,709
  • File size: 394 KB

Meet the Author

Maurice Herzog (b. 1919) is one of the foremost mountaineers in history. He gained international fame in 1950 as the leader of the expedition that summited Annapurna I, the first 8,000-meter peak ever climbed by man. Born in France, he distinguished himself in World War II, winning the Legion d’Honneur and Croix de Guerre, two of his nation’s highest military honors. After the war, he took to adventuring, where he found his calling climbing the highest mountains in the world. After leading the Annapurna expedition, which cost him his toes and most of his fingers, he dictated his account of the expedition from his hospital bed. His mountaineering days finished, Herzog turned to politics, where he served his country as a minister of sport.
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Read an Excerpt

Annapurna


By Maurice Herzog

OPEN ROAD INTEGRATED MEDIA

Copyright © 1952 E. P. Dutton & Co., Inc.
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4532-2073-3



CHAPTER 1

PREPARATIONS


The day fixed for our departure was close at hand. Would we ever manage to get everything done? The entire personnel of the French Alpine Club was mobilized. The lights burned late into the night at No. 7 rue La Boétie; there was a tremendous sense of excitement, and the Himalayan Committee sat nearly every evening. At nine o'clock, punctual to the minute, the men on whom the fate of the Expedition depended would arrive and at this stage vital decisions were taken at these secret councils: it is the Committee which settles the budget, foresees contingencies, weighs the risks and, finally, chooses the members of the expedition.

The names of the members of the party had been known for a few days. I was to have a splendid team. The youngest member was the tall, and aristocratic Jean Couzy, aged 27; he had been a brilliant student at the Ecole Polytechnique and was now an aeronautical engineer. He had not long been married but he had not hesitated to leave his young wife, Lise, to take part in the adventure. A quiet man, with a faraway look in his eyes, he always seemed to be turning over in his mind the latest problems of electronics. Couzy's usual climbing partner Marcel Schatz was going with us too. He was two years older than his friend, of a heavier build, and always well turned out, for the very good reason that he was manager of one of his father's prosperous tailoring establishments. He liked efficient organization, order and method. Whenever a bivouac was needed on a climb he was always the one to pitch in and get it ready. As he was unmarried, and an ardent climber, there was nothing to prevent him from spending all his holidays in the mountains; and although he lived in Paris, and so at some distance from his mountain paradise, he was rarely to be found in town at week ends.

Louis Lachenal had been an amateur, climbing for his own pleasure until he became, a few years ago an instructor at the National School of Skiing and Mountaineering. To the inhabitants of Chamonix he ranked as a "foreigner," which means that he was not a native of the Valley—he came from Annecy. In spite of this dubious origin, as it seemed to the local inhabitants, who are jealous of their mountains, he had succeeded, along with Gaston Rébuffat and Lionel Terray, in being admitted to the Company of Guides of Chamonix, a body unique both for the number and quality of its members. He was of medium height, with piercing eyes, and in conversation could deliver a very sharp repartee. He loved to exaggerate and his judgments could be devastating. Absolutely honest with himself, he was perfectly ready, if occasion arose to declare himself in the wrong. As often as they could manage, he and Lionel Terray would go off together, as amateurs, to enjoy themselves on the toughest climbs in the Alps.

Lionel Terray, although a native of Grenoble, was also a Chamonix guide and he and Louis Lachenal formed a crack partnership; they were a couple of steam-engines. Like his friend, Lionel Terray had a weakness for dogmatic and exaggerated statements, and there was continuous rivalry between them to see who could go one better than the other. Terray was unbeatable and would never give in. Although the son of a doctor, and a highly cultured man, he liked to pass as an amiable tough, all brawn and nothing more. It was pure love of he mountains that brought him to his profession of Chamonix guide and he was entirely happy. He went over to Canada last year to teach the new French method of skiing, and brought back some notable additions to his repertory of swear words. "Just now," he wrote to me, "I am skiing en tabernacle"—skiing like hell. He was in Canada at the moment and would get back only a week before we sailed.

Gaston Rébuffat had a scandalous origin for a mountaineer, and even worse for a guide. He was born at the seaside! It would take the Company of Guides many years to live this down. Nevertheless, it was on the cliffs of the Calanques, between Marseilles and Cassis, that he made his first climb. He was the tallest man of the party—towering over the rest of us by nearly a head. He had done all the finest expeditions in the Alps, and thought nothing of going straight on from one big climb to another without a break. His young wife, Françoise, and his daughter seldom saw him during the season's round of Chamonix, Cortina d'Ampezzo, Zermatt, and other climbs. He was away in Italy giving a series of lectures, but I had asked him to return as soon as possible.

These men formed the assault teams, and no better men could be found in France. No one disputed our choice—not even secretly. If a vote had been taken among all climbers, the same names would have been selected.

Nor was there any question about our cameraman Marcel Ichac; he was one of our trump cards. He had already been to the Himalaya, in 1936, and had taken part in a great many expeditions. As soon as he arrived I should have the benefit of his advice. Now he was in Greenland with Paul-Emile Victor, and immediately afterwards he would be off to America to film the world ski championships at Aspen, Colorado, arriving back only a few days before we left for India.

He would have several jobs to do. Not only would he film the Expedition, he would be responsible for everything connected with our photography. We would each have a camera, but the maintenance, supply, and care of all the films would be his business. Collecting and documenting scientific observations would be another responsibility of this intelligent, enterprising and lively-minded man. Ichac had managed to solve one of the climber's biggest problems—a wife is always a problem!—by marrying another climber.

We hoped Jacques Oudot would be our Expedition's doctor. He was a first-class surgeon, and we should all be able to treat ourselves to the luxury of a fracture. But he was up to his eyes in work. He had very prudently given orders that he must not be disturbed at the Salpêtrière hospital where he performed vascular surgical operations under the direction of his chief, Mondor. The things he dared to do appeared so incredible to me that I constantly asked him "And d'you mean to say he didn't die?" My ignorance about surgery always seemed to cause him great amusement. There are not many surgeons who climb, and I knew from personal experience how invaluable Oudot would be to us.

"Oudot, have you made up your mind?"

"Just now I am very busy." His shrewd little eyes blinked cagily. "I'll tell you tomorrow," he would promise.

This performance had been going on for a week. Devies and I were on tenterhooks. Two days before our departure we finally dragged from him the longed-for "yes." His job would be to keep us all in good health, to deal with emergency ailments and accidents, and also to keep me constantly informed about the physical condition of the party and their degree of acclimatization. In addition he would exercise his skill upon the local inhabitants.

There was one thorny question: the liaison officer. Our preference was for one of our own countrymen whom we should be likely to get along with. Robert Tézenas du Montcel had spoken to us, a few days previously, of a young diplomat at the Embassy in New Delhi. A lot would be required of him. As well as English he must know and speak Hindustani and the principal local languages—Gurkhali and Tibetan. He would have to arrange all the transport and he would also be responsible for good diplomatic relations with the Nepalese authorities in the capital of Katmandu as well as in the regions through which we should be traveling. Francis de Noyelle seemed the ideal person. Furthermore he was entirely at home in the mountains, being himself an ardent climber—an indispensable requirement in our party.

Noyelle was the only one I did not know personally. But his parents and his sister talked to me and gave me such a clear picture of him that I had the feeling I was dealing with a friend. He was a well-built, keen-eyed, self-reliant young man, accustomed to dealing with the local high-ups. Not long ago he had made a trip to Katmandu with Monsieur Daniel Lévi, our ambassador to India and Nepal, who enjoys considerable prestige in these countries. He took part in the negotiations which succeeded in obtaining the rarely-granted permission to penetrate far into Nepalese territory. In India, Professor Rahaul, who had himself already taken part in several Himalayan expeditions, would help Noyelle in Darjeeling to recruit the Sherpas whom, for the most part he knew personally.

That was our party—all hardened mountaineers, all men of marked individuality and strong character. All of them devoutly longed to go to the Himalaya, which we had talked about for so many years. Lachenal put it in a nutshell: "We'd go if we had to crawl there."

Let me put it clearly on record that their zeal for the adventure was entirely unselfish. From the start every one of them knew that nothing belonged to him and that he must expect nothing on his return. Their only motive was a great ideal; this was what linked together mountaineers so widely dissimilar in background and so diverse in character.

In the few days remaining before our departure Marcel Schatz and I went round to speed up all the firms supplying our equipment. Our arms were sore from all the injections we had to undergo: yellow fever, cholera, smallpox. But who cared?

On the evening of March 28 the Himalayan Committee met for the last time with all the members of the Expedition. Lucien Devies, the President and chief promoter of the Expedition, outlined a history of Himalayan achievement and specified just what he expected of us.

"The Himalaya, by their size, fully merit the title of 'the third pole.' Twenty-two expeditions of different nationalities have tried to conquer an 'eight-thousander.' Not one has succeeded."

Then he defined our objectives:

"Dhaulagiri, 8,167 meters (26,795 feet), or Annapurna 8,075 meters (26,493 feet) in the very heart of Nepal. Should these prove impossible—and that would be no disgrace—'consolation' summits ought to be attempted. With the six tons of equipment and provisions, the Expedition must cross the Indian frontier and penetrate into hitherto forbidden Nepalese territory. After a march of three weeks up into the high valleys, the party should arrive at Tukucha, which enjoys a remarkable geographical situation; it lies between the two mountains Dhaulagiri and Annapurna.

"Until now other Himalayan expeditions have picked mountains in regions already known and explored. But we have absolutely no information about our two 'eight-thousanders.' We know nothing about the approach routes. The maps at our disposal are sketchy, practically useless above a certain height. As soon as the party reaches Tukucha, your headquarters, you must begin by exploring the two massifs. Only after you have become familiar with the lay of the land, and have drawn up a plan of attack, will the Expedition be able to launch the attempt ..."

Then Devies went on to say that investigations must be carried out—medical, geological, ethnographical, meteorological and geographical.

Clearly it was a tremendous undertaking; but I had complete faith in my colleagues. Our party was the best that could be assembled, and we all appreciated one another's individual qualities. Our supplies and equipment increased our confidence. French industry had made an exceptional effort, and in very few months had produced equipment which combined the maximum of strength, lightness and convenience.

The dull and dreary office in which we were meeting took on that evening a solemn air. There was nothing more to say. Soon we should be launched upon extraordinary adventures which we could not as yet picture but of which, as mountaineers, we could form an idea. There were now no barriers between those grave, thoughtful persons on the one side, and, on the other, the bronzed and vigorous members of the Expedition.

Then suddenly Lucien Devies stood up. After a moment, he spoke deliberately, enunciating each syllable.

"This, gentlemen, is the oath which like your predecessors in 1936 you must take—'I swear upon my honor to obey the leader in everything regarding the Expedition in which he may command me'."

Mountaineers don't much care for ceremonies. My colleagues stood up, feeling both awkward and impressed. What were they supposed to do?

"Now, gentlemen ... your turn, Matha, since you are the senior"—and he turned towards Marcel Ichac.

Then Henry de Ségogne who had led the 1936 expedition, and had spared no pains to help this one was equal to the occasion. "Come on, Matha," said Ségogne. Ichac began and Terray's almost timid response could be heard in unison. Each in turn, my colleagues swore to obey the leader of the Expedition in all circumstances, especially at moments of crisis. They were pledging their lives, possibly, and they knew it. They all put themselves completely in my hands. I should have liked to say a few words, but I just couldn't. There is no feeling to equal this complete confidence of one man in another, because it encompasses so many other feelings. In that moment our team was born. It was for me to keep it alive.

The Committee had acted in princely fashion. If they had given me all the responsibility, they had also given me an entirely free hand. As this memorable session drew to a close I felt very sad about one matter: Pierre Allain, that great figure of French mountaineering, who had done so much for us, would not be coming with us. His health, undermined during the war, no longer allowed him to undertake long expeditions. I knew better than anyone, just how much the Himalaya meant to him, and tonight was for him a Paradise Lost. But his face showed no hint of it; he even smiled.

Far away in Asia we would often think of our friend who had to stay behind.

CHAPTER 2

THE HIMALAYA


The moment we took off, our doctor, Jacques Oudot, who was dead tired, fell asleep. He hardly woke until we reached Delhi though from time to time he would open an eye to grumble: "Damn all these stops." Or sometimes to ask Marcel Ichac, "How's my little mouse? Watch out she doesn't escape." This particular little mouse was going to be a godsend to Indian doctors. It belonged to a pure strain no longer to be found in India, which are essential in the study of certain types of malaria.

At last India! There was a perfect moment when, looking through a window at the panorama, I could conjure up the ancient city of Mohenjo Daro, the invasion of the Aryans, and that earliest milestone of humanity, the Vedas.

Ambassador Daniel Lévi and all his staff of the Embassy at New Delhi were on the landing-ground at Palem to welcome us and help us with all the official complications. The Indian Customs had never before seen an expedition arrive lock, stock and barrel by plane.

"I wish to see a complete list, in English, of everything you are taking with you, with details of the weight, value, size ..."

"But there are more than 50,000 items!"

Without listening the haughty official added: "You will be admitted to the country in transit. Upon your return you must bring everything through the Customs again."

But weren't we going to eat while in Nepal? And suppose we were to lose or give away a gun or a tent—

It was a difficult situation. With an air of arranging everything the Customs officer made a new suggestion:

"Your equipment can all be held in customs for the duration of your expedition. It will come to no harm!"

"And what about us?"

"You can proceed on to Nepal. Then you can pick up your stuff on the way back."

I was horrified by the turn of events. "The Himalaya?" our Customs man seemed to say to himself, as he rolled his eyes, "It's all very well for pilgrims—"

We certainly were pilgrims, I thought to myself, pilgrims to the mountains. But I dared not interrupt his reflections.

"Well ..." (I felt sure everything was going to turn out all right) "now in this case I shall hold in customs the airplane as well."

I turned round to see whether our pilot had fainted.

But like everything else in India, the problem would be solved, provided there was no hurry. Marcel Ichac kept to himself in a corner, for he is very quick-tempered and didn't trust his control. He took his revenge by drawing a skull of the Customs officer.

"A perfect geometrical figure, but difficult to express as an equation," Couzy whispered.


(Continues...)

Excerpted from Annapurna by Maurice Herzog. Copyright © 1952 E. P. Dutton & Co., Inc.. Excerpted by permission of OPEN ROAD INTEGRATED MEDIA.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

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Table of Contents

Contents

Introduction,
Foreword,
Chapter I. Preparations,
Chapter II. The Himalaya,
Chapter III. The Hidden Valley,
Chapter IV. The East Dhaulagiri Glacier,
Chapter V. Looking for Annapurna,
Chapter VI. Council of War,
Chapter VII. The Miristi Khola,
Chapter VIII. The Spur,
Chapter IX. Annapurna,
Chapter X. The Sickle,
Chapter XI. Camp II,
Chapter XII. The Assault,
Chapter XIII. The Third of June,
Chapter XIV. The Crevasse,
Chapter XV. The Avalanche,
Chapter XVI. The Retreat,
Chapter XVII. In The Woods of Lete,
Chapter XVIII. Through the Paddy Fields,
Chapter XIX. Gorakhpur,
Chapter XX. There Are Other Annapurnas,
Glossary,

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Customer Reviews

Average Rating 4.5
( 11 )
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Sort by: Showing all of 11 Customer Reviews
  • Anonymous

    Posted January 22, 2012

    Amazing

    Understated incredible effort. Well told, gripping and informative.

    3 out of 3 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted December 2, 2011

    Fantastic read

    This book is captivating. Anyone looking for a classic adventure told from the perspective of people venturing into the truly unknown, look no farther.

    2 out of 2 people found this review helpful.

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  • Posted August 29, 2010

    more from this reviewer

    A Mountaineering Classic Worth Reading and Owning

    This is the classic account of the first ascent of an 8,000 meter peak. The book was translated from its original French version. Be inspired by it but take with a grain of salt. Then read David Roberts book True Summit to clear up some issues. Regardless, the positive impact that the expedition and the book has had on mountaineers is undeniable. It inspired Ed Viesturs to start climbing when he was just a kid and hundreds of others no doubt.

    2 out of 2 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted April 12, 2000

    The real adventure was finding the mountain...

    This was not the first book I ever read about mountain climbing, just the best. I've read several Everest accounts, up to and including the '96 tragedy, but none of them can hold a candle to the overwhelming adventure these frenchmen were on. First of all, they didn't even know which mountain they were going to climb; initially it was supposed to be Dhaulagiri - which they had to locate due to out of date maps. Once they found it, they realized it was beyond them at that time. So, then they had to locate Annapurna, again due to out of date maps. Suffice it to say you will shiver in sympathy as the rest of the adventure unfolds. (You didn't think I was going to give it all away did you?)

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  • Anonymous

    Posted December 23, 1999

    A Tale of an Arduous Expedition for the Era

    Maurice tells a great story of his amazing expedition to the top of Annapurna. I enjoyed comparing their adventure to recent modern expeditions to other high mountains, such as Everest. Modern climbers have much better equipment and support to help their chances of success. We should all respect the hardships that earlier climbers had to endure on their journeys. The only thing I downgrade the book on is that I thought it rambled on with more detail about mundane events than was necessary - it could have been shortened without sacrificing the thrust of the story. It is a very good story for all mountaineering and adventure fans to read.

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    Posted April 26, 2012

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    Posted December 7, 2008

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    Posted January 13, 2010

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    Posted June 27, 2010

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    Posted June 25, 2012

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