Searching the Edge -by James Monypenny
Scroll to the bottom for an account by Cory Hall
Jungdung kangri 6160m at sunset |
“A menacing explosion of pink and dark blue, a great symphony of rapidly changing colour, on a canvas of supernatural proportions, another truly a grandiose Himalayan sunset. Yet it was quite wasted on me. My mind was more focused on the cold. It crept in slowly, with the on-set of the night, starting at the toes. Our small, poorly protected ledge, just wide enough to harbour our spooning bodies -with Cory’s lower leg dangling over the abyss, made an excellent viewing platform. From our tiny perch at 5800m, on the vast unclimbed Indian big wall, we could see our tiny speck of a tent, on the glacier seven hundred vertical meters below. In it, our sleeping equipment, food supplies and other such items that could have made the passing of the night bearable. We were castaways in an Atlantic ocean of granite. We had underestimated the mountain”.
Cory spins the Buddhist prayer wheels |
I don't think I'm deluded; I have a plan. I also know that my plan might fail. The difficulty itself is no small part of the appeal. If success is a certainty, where is the challenge? If there is no Challenge, where is the reward? The talk with Chris Horrobin -one of the few people to have climbed in the immediate area, made the prospect of climbing Jungdung Kangri sound like an grandiose exercise in futility. Treacherous glacial moraine, loose rock, impossible climbing, mountain worshipers, and improbable permits supposedly stood in our way. However, I am still young enough to arrogantly believe that through sheer passionate will, I can bend the world to my ambition.
Old lady in Leh |
Prologue -Getting there
We re-united in an obscure corner of Delhi, only 12hrs after we had planned; Cory having had an unplanned detour to China. He had not changed one bit in the six months since I’d seen him last. His un-tamed hair still met his shoulders, still sporting his favourite shirt, still welding an un-bridled passion for exploration and all things climbing. Like myself, Cory had avoided the well-worn path to a routine existence.
We preferred crossing the chaos of Delhi by Auto-rickshaw, rather than hiding in the modern comforts of the underground metro. The heat, and intense, busy, swerving traffic, -both bovine and mechanical in origin, that all epitomizes modern India, were a feast for the un-initiated senses.
Within 4 days we had made it to the northern state of Jammu and Kashmir. Ninety percent of the way to our mountain in distance, one percent in effort. It lay hidden in the Palzampiu valley probably no more than 60km away, near the line of control and the disputed border with Pakistan.
Our first obstacle was to source mules. We rented motor bikes and drove the 40km to the village of Likir that formed the gate way to the likir valley, and the southern approach to our mountain. En-route we explored a granite outcrop, reminiscent of California’s Joshua tree: a sign that there was in-fact good rock to be found, and commenced a soloing frenzy.
After a tiresome search we located Likir's sole donkey owner, and managed to find a translator. He was an older man, small in stature, perhaps in his mid-sixties, with a weather face that told a story of a life-time spent living in a mountain environment. He was willing to join us on our useless conquest; the notion seemed to light a fire in his eye. Perhaps it was the thought of one last adventure; more likely the rupees. But alas his donkey, or any donkey for that matter, would not make it over the snow-covered pass. We would have to lay siege from the North. Which meant securing inner line permits; our next challenge. This, we were told initially, would not be possible for our desired length of stay. However being India, anything was possible, at a price.
Soloing at basecamp crag |
It took an entire day to figure the existence, location and price of the local shared jeeps to the Nubra valley. Time moves differently in India. Bureaucratic hurdles, pointlessly, frustratingly, present themselves at the slightest logistical opportunity. At times it would seem that everyone’s singular motivation is the rupee, and any fabrication would be told if it meant more money in the pocket.
I longed for the simplicity of base-camp living.
Thanks to a carefully thought-out, ambitious list, shopping in the market bazaar at Diskit took a mere couple of hours, and we were soon on our way speeding in a taxi to Hundar. Although try as we might, we could not find anything that resembled porridge: the closest thing being baby food. With a shrug we bought 6 packets.
We had been told that it could be several days before mules turned up, the owner of our guesthouse seemed to think it was a worthless plight. He seemed genuine enough, yet suggested a handsome sum for porters. Experience has taught me to question. I was glad I decided to go for a wonder. My eyes lit-up at the sight -twelve, maybe fourteen mules, and their handlers, camped less than 700m from where we were staying. We went and spoke with a handler, offering him a cigarette as a baksheesh. They were leaving tomorrow, heading to Wachan, half way to our intended base camp. At this point most people would probably not believe their luck. My friends would, no-doubt, refer to such events as "pennyland" moments. I think we all too often wrongly attribute outcomes to luck. Which is mistaken correlation of causality in my mind. Such things are merely chance, probability if you will. Probability can be predicted, chance can be measured. As a climber it is a worthy thing to realise. You minimize risks in this way. Yes, we take risks, but only when the rewards seem worthy. When you succumb to the notion that luck is a human fabrication that eases the grief of our mistakes, and justifies our good fortune, then you begin to realise that you can steer the course of your own fate. You stop wasting your time waiting to be lucky, and you create your own opportunities.
And so it was we finally found our Mules.
Traversing under the roof: new routing at base camp crag. |
Deep glacial carved canyons eventually gave way to open valley, as we approached Wachan. Toward the afternoon the clouds began to lift their murky veil. That is when we caught our first glimpse of her. Like an Indian goddess raising her Sari. It existed. Relief and excitement; gut sinking awe. Jungdung kangri stood before us, magnificent. Tempting us, challenging us, beckoning us. Like all great mountains, it had the elusive appearance of being much closer than it actually was.
We spent the night with a local family, who lived in relative isolation. Their world revolved around harvest and the occasional trekker. They generously offered us thagi khambir, a sour fermented curd mixed with yeast. We forced smiles as we ate as much of the bitter traditional ladakhi fare as we could.
Arrival at BC |
As we walked the following day I had a grim vision of our demise. A horrid black emptiness and feeling of guilt came over me. Guilt that I had lured Cory here to an un-supported expedition, with no means of contacting the outside world, and the single person to know our whereabouts was a non-English speaking Ladahki farmer. Guilt that I had forgotten to email my mother.
Before we knew it we were alone, the three of us. Cory, the mountain and I. We wasted no time, like busy ants building a home, we set about constructing the luxuries of our base camp. We had near-by running water, comfortable grass, cragging a short walk away, and a mound of food.
The next afternoon we are lured by the tasty looking cracks of our base-camp crag. Upon arrival it became evident that the splitter we'd been eyeing was in fact a butt crack, and slightly slabby. We began to solo. Cory moves with a grace of dynamic fluidity. I feel awkward. It's only been 5 months since I broke my leg, and I am still finding my flow. I'm inspired by a giant overhanging roof crack, and convince Cory it's a good idea. The approach pitch is fantastic, varied and challenging. But the roof crack is too wide for our skills, and we find an awesome traversing escape.
Approaching the face / ABC |
Approaching the face |
Chapter 1 –The shaft of Justice
At 4am, when we finally emerged from our tent, after a tasty baby-food and coffee breakfast, the steep glacial basin was lit-up by the full moon, casting a long shadow over us. Our sights were set on the long couloir and central summit, to the right of the face.The approach with a huge bag. The Indian and Pakistan Karakoram in the backround |
The Shaft of Justice |
Our elation, as satisfying as it was, was short lived. It was getting late in the day, and we had six hundred vertical meters to descend. Night had caught us up, and we were still making the repetitive abseils down the couloir. As I slid down our ropes I heard a sudden noise from above, before I had any time to feel emotion or horror my instinct reacted, and I swung to the right, the boulder narrowly missing me. The waves of adrenaline that surged through my veins, were quickly replaced by pangs of fear for Cory. I shouted into the darkness below: No response. My worry intensified as I continued and began to near the end of the rope, with still no sign of Cory. With rope stretch I descended a small overhang, mightily relieved to see Cory; cowering in a shower of spindrift. After a total of perhaps fifteen abseils we crossed the bergschrund, with snow falling, we stumbled back to the tent.
Low down on the "monypenny-Hall of fame" |
James Leading on the "monypenny-hall of fame" |
Cory lookin wired |
James following a nice pitch of Scottish IV; with Scottish weather |
James on the Indian head: the final hurdle on the central summit, on the shaft of justice. |
Base camp |
Walk out; mixed weather |
Cory takes one last look back at our play ground for 3 weeks |
Contrast of colors |
Grandma, from the local family we spent the night with in wachan |
James on the last pitch of the shaft of justice |
Taking a break at the col, on top of the shaft of justice. |
Chapter 2 –The Face
I knew it was going to be hard, but there’s no point worrying about such things, that gets you nowhere.We decided upon a one day, lightweight alpine big-wall style approach. As such, we had a large rack, with a double set of cams, a hand-full of pitons, aiding paraphernalia, one set of ice tools between us and a jet-boil. Deciding the difficulties would be too hard to lead with a pack, we opted for one sack between us, which the second would carry whilst jumaring. We were up and away by 4am, this time my-self in front. The initial ice pitches took far longer than we had imagined. The ice was brittle, and where we would normally move together, we were forced to pitch due to only having one set of ice tools. This also complicated matters on traversing pitches. Finally, around mid-day, we reached the rock. Cory took the lead, dispatching the initial M6 pitch in big boots. Here the wall kicked back, a maze of vertical granite rose up a further five hundred meters. Cory lead four challenging pitches, a 5.9 Crack system led to a wild belay under a large roof, followed by an exposed traverse, into a 5.10 off-width, finished with A2 aid-climbing. We reached the headwall, it was already late, snow flurries fell, we were tired, and progress upward on the complex wall seemed irrational at night. Neither of us felt prepared to give up the fight just yet, and we found a tiny perch to spend the night.
Gettin' racked and psyched for some big wall alpine action |
James 2nding low on the Monypenny-hall route |
James leading on the headwall |
Chapter 3 –The Monypenny Hall of fame
I felt thoroughly rejuvenated, my muscles felt stronger, my mind clearer, and the air thicker. Three days of eating and rest had done the trick, now it was time for our final climb. I desperately wanted to try the face once more, but had to admit that Cory was right; we simply didn’t have the equipment to tackle the repeated hard aid pitches of the upper headwall. Instead we had our eye’s on a tasty mixed line leading to the true summit. We moved together, trouncing 600m of beautiful, varying icy couloir. Emerging at the col beneath the towering summit granite-pyramid, the line of least resistance was not forthcoming. Our initial attempt up the north-west side ended in blank un-climbable face. I had noticed a line on the north side that might connect, and we managed to traverse over. I disappeared around a corner onto the north face. I began inching my way up a difficult (5.12) off-width, leaning, flared squeeze chimney and soon had to resort to aid climbing. Before long I was following a thin seem with spaced protection, at the top of which I hand-placed a pecker and then commenced a series of large pendulums on questionable cams, to eventually reach the final barrier. Before me stood a demanding overhanging off-with crack. I felt drained from the 3 hours of demanding A2++ climbing. A few small nuts and one micro cam were all that remained on my harness. Deflated, and somewhat defeated I shouted down to Cory for consultation.Making roties at base camp |
James jugging on the face |
Our tiny bivi ledge |
Approaching the central summit |
Low down on the shaft of justice |
Cory on the summit of jungdun kangri 6160m (the central summit and the face behind). |
Cory takes in the vista, standing on the central summit |
James on the central summit |
Cory following on the Monypenny-hall route |
Cory leading (monypenny-hall route) |
Cory leading (monypenny-hall route) |
Sunset at base-camp |
American Alpine Club Article written by Cory:
LADAKH
Palzampiu Valley, Jungdung Kangri, Shaft of Justice and The Monypenny Hall of Fame. With Pakistan travel plans falling through, my good friend James Monypenny (U.K.) and I quickly regrouped. With nothing more than a photograph and an incredibly vague topographical map, we set our sights on a previously unattempted 6,060m granite peak known as Jungdung Kangri in the Ladakh Range.
Jungdung Kangri lies hidden in the Palzampiu Valley, only a few dozen kilometers from the heavily militarized border with Pakistan. We first tried to gain access from the south through the town of Likir, thus eliminating the need for military permits. However, we were told the pass was uncrossable by mules. Instead, we secured nine-dollar military permits through a tourist agency in Leh and headed north by road over the Khardung La to the Nubra Valley. As these permits were only valid for seven days, we eventually decided to chance that we wouldn’t be checked, and after 21 days our
luck held. Climbing permits still need to be acquired well in advance, although recent reforms have simplified the process and dropped prices, as well as opening new areas.
After a two-day walk with a couple of mules, we reached base camp at 5,090m in a pristine alpine meadow. Above lay a playground of granite faces, alpine couloirs, and pointed summits. After hauling massive loads up moraine and glacial ice, we set high camp at 5,522m, below the
[This page, top] Jungdung Kangri from the west-northwest. (1) Attempt on west face of northeastern top. On retreating, Hall and Monypenny rappelled to the large horizontal snow ledge, moved across to its right edge and then rappelled ice slopes. (2) Shaft of Justice. (3)
Monypenny Hall of Fame.
Cory Hall
[This page, bottom] James Monypenny on the headwall
during the west face attempt.
Cory Hall
Climbs and Expeditions: India 285
west side of Jungdung Kangri.
We warmed up on what looked to be the easy central couloir. However, it soon steepened to 85°, with threatening cornices basking in the sun above. Our unacclimatized lungs burned, calves screamed, and heads spun. James led a pitch of 5.4 up to the central summit tower, and after many chossy dead ends I linked a 5.8 pitch to the central summit at 6,030m. We had established our first route, Shaft of Justice (630m, TD+ 5.8 80°), but in the process realized that the southwestern summit was actually higher.
Meanwhile, the large face to the left of the Shaft was calling, with 650m of icy, steep granite. A few days later, with a selection of rock and ice gear, but no bolt kit or bivouac gear, we launched into the unknown. Progress slowed as the brittle ice of the lower face steepened. A steep icy corner of M6, followed by an improbable 5.9 traverse, led to a 15cm offwidth—a lead that left me coughing blood. On a small, poorly protected ledge at 5,800m, we made an unplanned shiver bivouac. James led pitch after pitch of difficult aid and free next morning, but progress was slow. A second bivouac without water, food, fuel, or even a ledge was a daunting prospect. We bailed.
The main peak was still unclimbed, so once feeling fit we simul-climbed through mixed gullies to the right of Shaft of Justice, and in a few hours reached the col below the highest summit tower. I attempted a delaminated mixed pitch, but it quickly ended in unclimbable slabs. James then embarked on an epic three-hour aid lead, connecting discontinuous features via many large swings on poor gear, at one point tensioning off a pecker he pounded in with a belay device. We eventually stood on Jungdung Kangri’s true summit with a route to be proud of: The Monypenny Hall of Fame (650m, ED1 90° A2++). PHOTOS ICON
Cory Hall, Canada
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