The mystery of what happened to Mallory and Irvine and whether they had first climbed Mount Everest has fascinated people for nearly 100 years since they disappeared high on the mountain in June 1924.

I have a family connection with one of the top climbers on that 1924 British Mount Everest expedition, one of Mallory’s friends, and I am an Everest summiteer myself.

I was the founding member of the 1999 Mallory and Irvine Research Expedition and – unknown to most – in possession of secret information which eventually led to our discovery of George Mallory’s body by the American climber Conrad Anker on our expedition.

Here’s how the expedition came about, and what happened when we found Mallory, 75 years after he died on the mountain.

The 1999 Mallory and Irvine Research Expedition

I started my search for Mallory in 1969 when Mallory’s friend and my cousin, Howard Somervell told me how he handed his camera to Mallory in 1924 just before he disappeared close to the summit. My quest for answers to the Mallory mystery started to turn up respondents, and in April 1998 a German student, Jochen Hemmleb, contacted me with a long list of questions about Everest. I told him that I was on the brink of persuading the BBC to fund an expedition to look for Mallory and his camera.

Then, after ten years of trying, the BBC finally accepted my proposal. In 1998, the Independent published an article announcing my expedition to go in search of Mallory’s camera. Jochen and I decided to form a Mallory and Irvine Research Expedition, with me as the initial founder.

I met up with Lord Hunt, leader of the first successful Everest expedition of 1953. He said:

“I wish you well in your search for this important clue to the fate – success or failure – of Mallory and Irvine in 1924.”

Lord Hunt in a letter to Graham Hoyland, 1998

I thought I had covered all the potential problems of looking for a dead body on a mountain. How wrong I was.

In Kathmandu, I met the American team and they actually turned out to be a nice bunch: Conrad Anker, already with a fine reputation, on his first expedition above 24,000ft (7,300m); Dave Hahn and Andy Politz, both Everest veterans; and Jake Norton (no relation) and Tap Richards, two likeable young climbers. They didn’t seem to know very much about Mallory. Liesl Clark would film for NOVA.

How We Knew Where George Mallory’s Body Lay On Everest

Once at Base Camp, we discussed where to search for Mallory, Irvine and the missing camera. I had the secret information that I had kept to myself up to that point: the story my father had passed on to me. Before the expedition, I had researched this in greater depth.

Here’s the secret: my uncle John Hoyland had been killed on Mont Blanc in 1934, and Frank Smythe, the world-famous climber who had recovered John’s body had revealed that when he was on Everest in 1933 he had seen a body just like John’s, lying in the snow. He said it was resting at the bottom of the Great Scree Slope, at around 8,100 metres.

This information was recorded in a private letter to Edward Norton (source Guardian). Previously Somervell had met Frank Smythe to discuss the forthcoming 1936 Everest expedition and mentioned to him that he thought it might be possible to place a camp in the Great Couloir that Norton had reached in 1924.

I think it was then that Smythe passed on this story, knowing that Somervell was John Hoyland’s cousin. We therefore had a good idea of where to look. In the event, Conrad Anker found George Mallory’s body in just 40 minutes. Unfortunately during a climb up to ABC, I suffered a minor health problem and my BBC colleague immediately had me sent home.

Who Found Mallory’s Body – and When

Conrad Anker told me later how at 05.00 on 1st May 1999 Andy Politz, Dave Hahn, Jake Norton, Tap Richards and he left Camp V, at 25,700ft, to go up to the 1924 Camp VI. They got there at 10.00 am Conrad spotted a couple of modern bodies and then in the course of removing his crampons to climb up some rock suddenly saw a patch of white, a patch that seemed even whiter than the surrounding snow. It was a body, bleached to an extraordinary degree by 75 years of sun. He radioed his companions with the cryptic request for ‘a mandatory group meeting’ and they began the lengthy process of identifying the body.

Dave Hahn broke in here and said that it looked like a white marble Greek statue.

I remembered Lytton Strachey’s gushing description of George Mallory’s body as a sculpture by Praxiteles and thought that it had come only too true.

At this stage, they were still assuming this was Irvine, as the hair appeared to be blond. In cutting away some clothing, Jake came upon a label that said ‘G. Mallory’. They all looked at each other and said, ‘Why would Andrew Irvine be wearing George Mallory’s shirt?’ Then it finally dawned on their oxygen-starved brains that they hadn’t found Irvine. They had found George Mallory.

He was lying face-down, arms outstretched as if to break a sliding fall, with a broken leg and a serious skull fracture. A thin cotton rope was around his waist which had caused extensive bruising. It was broken near him, and it seemed likely that he had been a victim of a fall while roped to Irvine. The body was only an hour or two from the safety of their camp.

Why Was Mallory’s Body Not Turned Over?

George Mallory’s body was frozen hard into the scree of Mount Everest and it took hours to tear off his clothing and remove his possessions. It would be impossible to turn him over with his frozen, outflung arms.

A second visit to the body a few days later managed to lever the body out of the frozen grave and Thom Pollard decided to have a look at Mallory’s face. He crawled beneath the body as Andy Politz lifted it.

He reported that Mallory had stubble on his chin, that his eyes were closed and there was a hole over his left eye, with two pieces of bone protruding. Otherwise, his face was perfectly preserved.

Artefacts Found (and Not Found) on Mallory’s Body

Several of Mallory’s possessions were found on his body:

• one pair of goggles were in Mallory’s pocket, suggesting he was descending in darkness or poor visibility when he fell
• one pocket knife
• an altimeter. Unfortunately, this did not record a maximum altitude achieved.
• an envelope with notes on the amounts of oxygen in each of the cylinders
• nail scissors
• a bill from his tailor
• significantly there was no photograph of his beloved wife Ruth. Mallory said he would place this on the summit in the event of success. Nor was it recorded in his camp possessions.
• most importantly there was no camera.

The Significance of Mallory’s Camera

” We met Mallory at the North Col on his way up. He said to me that he had forgotten his camera, and I lent him mine,” said Howard Somervell to me in 1969.

“So, if my camera was ever found,” he said to me, “you could prove that Mallory got to the top!”

Mallory and Irvine certainly would have been expected to have taken a picture of the highest point reached. I contacted Kodak, and they said that a printable image could in theory be obtained should the camera ever be retrieved. The old black-and-white film was less susceptible to cosmic rays than modern colour reels.

If found and developed, this photograph could solve the mystery. Imagine one’s feelings as the image developed in the bath of solution. Is that Lhotse looking lower in the background? Is that Mallory holding up the British flag?

The question is: why wasn’t Howard Somervell’s camera with Mallory’s body? Had Irvine taken it to take a picture of his friend on the summit?

Or had someone already removed it, to destroy any possible claim that the British had climbed Mount Everest’s North side before the Chinese?

How and Where Was George Mallory Finally Buried?

Before the expedition, I had contacted the Mallory and Irvine families, sought permission to look for their dead relatives, and asked what burial service they would prefer. Eventually, I got their consent and agreed to provide a Christian burial if at all possible.

I had therefore contacted Peter Firth, an ex-BBC colleague who was then the Bishop of Malmesbury, and I asked him to write an appropriate committal service to read over the body of Mallory or Irvine.

The expedition interred Mallory where he lay by heaping loose stones over him. This might have prevented further bird damage.

You can read more about this in my article on where Mallory is buried.

After all the media excitement of finding Mallory died down, I realised that we hadn’t succeeded in my quest: to find Somervell’s camera. I returned to the mountain’s North side in 2000, 2001, 2006 and 2011 in the hope of finding Irvine.

Dozens of well-acclimatised Sherpas expended hundreds of hours in the search. We hunted down the fall line and across the North Face for Sandy Irvine and the camera and it seems very curious to me that nothing was found.

A Western climber recently looked for Mallory’s grave for around an hour but couldn’t find it, making much noise in the media about his venture, ignoring the efforts of our Sherpa search parties over the course of several previous search expeditions. He speculated that both Mallory and Irvine’s bodies had been removed by persons unknown, together with Somervell’s camera.

Could this be true, or a conspiracy theory?

Certainly, if a successful climb by Mallory and Irvine in 1924 could be proved it would trump China’s claim to have first climbed the mountain from the North, Tibetan side in 1960. This could have profound political ramifications if China were ever to claim further territory around Mount Everest such as the Khumbu valley in Nepal.

As with all detective mysteries, you might ask: “Cui bono?” Who would benefit from removing the evidence of a successful British climb of Mount Everest in 1924? There is only one answer to this.

So does Somervell’s camera lie in a Chinese official’s safe, somewhere in Tibet?

Until a post-Soviet-style Glastnost arrives in China we are unlikely ever to know.

Was Mallory’s Body Removed from Everest?

Mallory’s body was not removed from the mountain as the family wished it to be left where he fell. It also takes around six climbers to retrieve a body.

So….did Mallory and Irvine climb Mount Everest?

After nine expeditions to the mountain, including testing exact replicas of Mallory’s clothes and studying the weather during their climb, I felt I had learned the answer to whether Mallory and Irvine had climbed Mount Everest.

The clues lay in the meteorological readings my cousin Somervell had taken. Mallory and Irvine had been climbing into a perfect storm (See my paper)

My conclusions can be read here https://www.grahamhoyland.com/books/last-hours-on-everest/

Even though the first people to climb Mount Everest were Edmund Hillary, a New Zealander, and Tenzing Norgay, a Nepali, these two men would have considered themselves as part of a British team.

Hillary certainly would have regarded himself as a subject of the British empire in those long-ago days. The expedition was led by Colonel John Hunt of the British Army and was organised and financed in London by a Himalayan committee formed by members of the Royal Geographical Society and the Alpine Club.

The news of the expedition’s success was announced on the morning of Queen Elizabeth II’s Coronation. “All this, and Everest too!” hailed the newspapers.

Does any of this matter?

It matters because it is interesting to examine how and why the inhabitants of a small flat island off the shores of Europe first invented the sport of mountaineering, then decided to climb the world’s highest mountain four and a half thousand miles away. In similar ways, Naga Parbat became a German obsession and K2 fascinated the Italians.

The British in the 19th century were fascinated by exploring their world, measuring its features and naming them. They were also making a map of their empire.

How the British Measured Mount Everest

The Great Trigonometrical Survey was commissioned by the East India Company to survey all their lands in the Indian sub-continent. The survey started in 1802, and at first it was estimated that the survey would take just five years to complete the work. In the end it took more than sixty years, and cost the Company a fortune.

The result was that the British managed to measure Mount Everest with astounding accuracy in 1854. Read more here on How Was Everest Measured? It’s a fascinating story.

Before that moment other mountains had been considered to be the highest in the world. See if you can guess which ones, and read about the mountains previously thought to be the highest, before Everest.

How The British Named Everest (or re-named it)

But what to call the world’s highest mountain? The first scrawl on the map announcing Mount Everest called it ‘Peak B’, then the next note ‘Peak XV’. After failing to find a local name, and after much head scratching in the end the British chose the name of the former Surveyor-General: Sir George Everest.

It is unlikely that Everest himself ever saw the mountain that bears his name, but Andrew Waugh, Everest’s successor as Surveyor-General in India, wrote: ‘… here is a mountain most probably the highest in the world without any local name that I can discover …’, so he proposed ‘to perpetuate the memory of that illustrious master of geographical research … Everest’.

This went against cartological practice, and it was the start of the long story of the mountain being hijacked for ulterior motives. Everest himself said his name could not be written in either Hindi or Persian, and nor could the local people pronounce it. Nor can we. He pronounced his name Eeev-rest, as in Adam and Eve, while the rest of us all mispronounce it as Ever-rest, as in for ever and ever.

There is a strong argument for it being referred to as its native name, Chomolungma, meaning “Goddess Mother of the Earth”. Meanwhile, the British got on with the job of inventing mountaineering.

Did Great Britain Invent Mountaineering?

The British usually get the credit for inventing the sport of alpinism, and this was largely because of the new-found leisure of a certain social class. Britain was an island of coal surrounded by a sea of fish, and was therefore able to fuel her steam engines and feed her workers. She happened for many other reasons to be the first nation to industrialise (it could so easily have been the Romans, who were close to steam power, or the Indians, who had even more resources).

The Industrial Revolution provided many a wealthy man’s son (and a few daughters) with ample time and money to spend on excursions to the Alps while the average Swiss peasant was far too busy scraping a living off the mountainsides to waste time raising his eyes to the summits.

Sir Alfred Wills kicked off the Golden Age of Alpinism with his 1854 ascent of the Wetterhorn (although it wasn’t actually the first ascent, which had been made ten years earlier by a British doctor, Stanhope Templeton Speer with his Swiss guides) (source: wikipedia).

There then followed an explosion of climbing, with most of the major peaks being bagged within ten years. There was a similar period in the Himalayas a century later, when all the 14 peaks over 8,000m (26,247ft) were climbed within 11 years of each other.

The Alpine Club was founded in London in 1857. The members of the Club were predominantly upper-middle-class rather than aristocratic, and they thought of themselves as a caste apart, a Spartan phalanx, tough with muscular virtue, spare with speech, seeking the chill clarity of the mountains just because, as Leslie Stephen, who became the club’s president in 1865, put it, ‘There we can breathe air that has not passed through a million pairs of lungs.’

Stephen, the father of Virginia Woolf, also gave intellectual credibility to the new sport, writing that it put mountaineers in touch with the sublimest aspects of nature. But he also recalled “with a sense of shame how on one of the loftiest peaks of Switzerland I spent the precious moments on the summit having my trousers mended by my guide, who happened to be a tailor”. (source: swissinfo)

So after mountaineering became a sport, more and more mountains were climbed until The Big One came on the horizon: Mount Everest itself.

Why Britain’s Mountaineers Were The First to Climb Mount Everest

The British Empire was driven by bloody-minded individuals with a sense of mission, such as Livingstone, Napier and Burton, and one such was Francis Younghusband, the man mostly responsible for the first attempts to climb Mount Everest.

He was a small, heavily moustached man, who was almost the personification of Empire. He had become the youngest member of the Royal Geographical Society, and in 1890 received the RGS Patron’s Medal for a great journey through Manchuria, undertaken when he was only 23.

While on leave from his regiment, he pioneered a route between India and Kashgar, prime Great Game territory. This was the term for the struggle between the Russian and British Empires for control over Afghanistan and neighbouring territories in Central and South Asia.

Later, as a captain, Younghusband was ordered to survey part of the Hunza valley, where he bumped into his Russian counterpart, Captain Gromchevsy, who was surveying possible invasion routes. After dinner they swilled brandy and vodka, and compared their soldiers. They also discussed the possible outcome of a Russian invasion. After this friendly sparring, straight out of a buddy movie, they rode off in opposite directions.

The threat from Russia was therefore very real, and there was an obvious psychological advantage in gaining the high ground- literally- between the two great empires. Lord Curzon, the Viceroy of India, clearly wanted the highest point of the Himalayas climbed, writing that:

“As I sat daily in my room, and saw that range of snowy battlements uplifted against the sky, that huge palisade shutting off India from the rest of the world, I felt it should be the business of Englishmen, if of anybody, to reach the summit.”

In this context it can be seen that the climbing of Mount Everest was more of a political decision than a ‘wild dream’. In its way it was the British Empire’s moon-shot, with similar political motivation to the United States’ moon-shot of the 1960s. Crucially, it would plant the British flag on the northern bounds of India.

The problem was that the Tibetans didn’t want to talk to the British and pursued a policy of splendid isolation, keeping foreigners at an arm’s length. Myths arose about this forbidden land, and the desire to explore it grew.

Younghusband was by then Political Officer in Chitral, and the idea of climbing Everest fermented within his mind, particularly as he knew that he could count on the support of the establishment. In the meanwhile Curzon became more anxious about Russian influence in Tibet and decided to do something about it.

His chance came when a small group of Tibetans crossed the border and stole some Nepali yaks. This incursion was the excuse for the infamous Diplomatic Mission to Lhasa of 1904, led by Younghusband, who, on his way to Lhasa, saw the mountain at last:

“Mount Everest for its size is a singularly shy and retiring mountain. It hides itself away behind other mountains. On the north side, in Tibet … it does indeed stand up proudly and lone, a true monarch among mountains. But it stands in a very sparsely inhabited part of Tibet, and very few people ever go to Tibet.”

Younghusband certainly did go to Tibet, and in some style. He was leading a force of British soldiers carrying Maxim machine guns and cannon. A force of 2,000 Tibetans attempted to resist at Gyantse with matchlock muskets, spears and swords. Their lamas assured them the British bullets would not harm them, but when the smoke cleared over 600 of their number had died. By the time the British reached Lhasa the casualties were between 2,000 and 3,000 Tibetans killed, compared with only 202 British soldiers (source: wikipedia).

This would be unacceptable today, but as L. P. Hartley wrote in the first line of The Go-Between : “The past is a foreign country; they do things differently there.” This is a point misunderstood by many historical revisionists. In absolute terms though the 1904 invasion of Tibet was deeply regrettable

As a result, though Britain gained privileged access to the closed country of Tibet, and eventually set up telegraph poles all the way to Lhasa. Trading could begin, although some were sad that one of the last veiled mysteries of geography had been ripped aside so brutally.The way was surely now clear for the British to conduct a reconnaissance of the mountain, but it took until 1921 for that to happen.

In 1912 Captain Scott had been beaten to the South Pole by the Norwegian polar explorer Amundsen, who pipped him to the post by employing more effective dog-teams, keeping his attempt secret and treating his expedition as a race. The British public was crestfallen, and newspapers started to clamour that Something Had To Be Done.

Edward Whymper had referred to Mount Everest as the Third Pole, and this term now gained currency. British pride had to be assuaged, and the ascent of Everest would do as well as anything else.

After some delay caused by the First World War, permission to reconnoitre the mountain was reluctantly granted by Tibet’s Dalai Lama. In 1921 the first British expedition set off to explore the terrain. With them was a young teacher called George Mallory.

There followed seven further British expeditions to Mount Everest, expeditions that lead to the mysterious deaths of George Mallory and his young companion Sandy Irvine, the loss of other lives, and several failed attempts to within a couple of hundred metres of the summit.

Eventually, after much expenditure of sweat, treasure, and lives, Edmund Hillary finally stepped up on to the summit at 11:30 a.m. on May 29, 1953, pulling Tenzing Norgay up behind him. His first words?

“Well, we knocked the bastard off.”

(Source: The Guardian)

I climbed with Brian Blessed on Mount Everest as his film crew in 1990, and then as his mountain guide in 1993, and I will never forget how courageous and funny he was at high altitude.

Working and climbing with Brian was one of the highlights of my nine expeditions to Everest. When you share a tent and rope with someone you get to know them very well and I will say this: he’s a great guy. Here’s more on the story.

Brian Blessed’s Expeditions to Everest

Brian Blessed is no stranger to mountaineering. His expeditions include:

1988: Kilimanjaro, Tanzania. (19,341 ft.) (5,895 metres)

1990: Mount Everest North Ridge. 25,200 feet (7,700 m)

1993: Aconcagua in Argentina. 22,838 ft (6,961 metres).

1993: Mount Everest South-West Ridge. 28,200 feet (8,600 m)

1996: Mount Everest North Ridge. 25,200 feet (7,700 m)

Did Brian Blessed Climb Everest?

Brian Blessed did not quite get to the summit of Mount Everest, but he climbed to 28,200 feet (8,600 m) in 1993 (source: Wikipedia).

How? In 1990 the director John-Paul Davidson got funding for a BBC film about Mallory: Galahad of Everest. The high-altitude cameraman was David Breashears, already making his name in the field, and soon to be a famous IMAX film director.

Most of the filming was to be on the north side of Everest in Tibet. My job was to record sound and assist David in changing the reels of 35mm film on the Arriflex cine film camera.

The chief character in the film was Brian Blessed, an actor I knew was fascinated by Mallory and the early Everest expeditions, and who had been pushing hard to get this film made.

After my hire car caught fire on the M4 motorway I only just caught the flight to Kathmandu, where I met David Breashears and Jean-Paul Davidson. I liked the team immediately. Brian Blessed, our star, was a huge man in every way, with an unlikely physique for a climber. He looked rather like a yeti (see Top Ten Yeti Sightings).

Films and Documentaries featuring Brian Blessed and Everest

Galahad of Everest from 1990 was a fine film, Brian’s only film about his beloved mountain and one of his best performances. You can watch the whole thing below:

Brian Blessed on Everest Expeditions

During the filming of Galahad of Everest with Brian, we had to get to Tibet quickly after repairing the Arriflex camera. When we arrived at the frontier post in the vast gorge of the Bhote Kosi river we were all a bit nervous because of some doubts about visas. At the unfortunately named Friendship Bridge between Nepal and Tibet there was a stiff reception from the People’s Army soldiers in their thin, green cotton uniforms. We queued up and handed our passports over.

The immigration officer started examining them closely and our hearts sank. There was a sudden stir, the guards jerked round and the safety catches clacked off their guns. I spun round. To my horror Brian Blessed had picked up one of the guards bodily and was staggering off towards the 100-foot drop into the river!

Then Brian started bellowing with laughter, there was a pause, and the immigration officer began chuckling, too. The man’s colleagues giggled nervously, and Brian put him down. The spell was broken. The passports were handed back. We were through.

We joined the 1990 Earth Day 20 International Peace Climb, a combined American–Soviet–Chinese expedition led by Jim Whittaker, the first American to climb Everest. It was the first time that the three nations had collaborated to climb a mountain. As Whittaker wrote in the 1991 American Alpine Journal,

‘This was before glasnost, before perestroika, before the Reagan–Gorbachev summit, before Gorbachev went to Beijing. We would hold the summit of all summit meetings, enemies becoming friends.’

The International Peace Climb certainly required diplomatic leadership. We were in Chinese-controlled Tibet, and the Chinese had not allowed Soviets on their soil in 30 years. Whittaker went to both countries to get their leaders’ support, and it was a good effort on his part. Ed Viesturs was one of the American climbers, here on his first Everest summit.

In the end, David Breashears, Brian Blessed and I, carrying an Arriflex film camera, 35mm film magazines and a tape recorder, managed to climb to where my cousin Howard Somervell sat down to die of asphyxiation on the North Ridge, at approximately 25,500ft (7,750m) [you can read more about Somervell’s frostbitten larynx here].

Because of a family story and a letter from a 1930s Everest climber, Frank Smythe, I knew that Mallory’s body that Smythe saw was just a few hundred yards away, but there was nothing I could do [you can read more about Smythe’s secret here].

Brian performed heroically in getting himself to that height, and we filmed him there putting on one of his loudest performances. Changing the exposed 35mm cine film in a light-proof bag was difficult at that altitude. Brian was exhausted and he could go no higher. As it was, we had to support him back into camp.

In the end Galahad of Everest was a fine film and one of Brian’s best performances under enormous pressure. George Mallory, the subject of the docu, was discovered on Everest in 1999.

We sent Brian down the North Col slopes ahead of us, and David Breashears and I rolled up all our tents and cooking gear into a huge roll the size of a car. I tried to carry it down the route but it was just too heavy to haul on to my back.

David tried to lift it, too. No luck. So we dragged the great, baggy, multi-colored roll to the edge of the North Col and peered over the edge. We could see Brian far below, waddling down the snow slopes towards Advanced Base Camp like a hungry bear. Or maybe a Yeti [Yeti article].

Carefully aiming the roll of baggage well away from him we pushed it off. It started slowly, and then gathered speed, then it started curving inexorably towards the tiny figure on the enormous slopes of Mount Everest. We watched, silent and appalled, as it accelerated and started bouncing in great leaps.

Then David and I shouted ‘Brian! Brian! Look behind you!’

Brian, who performs a lot of pantomime, ignores shouts of this kind. The roll took one huge leap and burst above him, showering him with pots, tents and soiled underclothing.

Pulling a wet sleeping bag off his head Brian slowly turned and shook his fist up at us with rage. “…You…f******…bastards…!” echoed across the mountain, and in the far distance an avalanche kicked off, detonated by the Blessed bellow.

In 1993 Brian and I decided to have another crack at climbing Mount Everest from the other, southern side, this time without carrying a cine camera. I was hired as his mountain guide and off we went post-monsoon in 1993. We spent 12 weeks tied together on the same rope.

This time I summited the mountain and Brian managed to get up to the South Col, left the tents and made a bee-line for the summit. He didn’t make it, but his performance was astonishing for a man of 57 in the notorious Death Zone. And even at high altitude he would leave us helpless with laughter.

On the descent, though Brian and I were very nearly killed in an avalanche in the notorious Icefall (read more about how climbers die on Everest here).

In 1996 Brian made another attempt at climbing Mount Everest from the North side but got no higher than we had in 1990. But he did succeed in reaching the tops of Aconcagua in Argentina and Mount Kilimanjaro in Tanzania.

As an actor Brian Blessed was a good fit for Mount Everest. I worked in BBC Drama with hundreds of actors from Dame Judi Dench to Sir John Gielgud and I would say Brian didn’t excel at subtle characterisation but he had more raw power than any actor I knew.

After two expeditions to Mount Everest you really get to know a man. Brian Blessed was always a courageous climber and a good companion.

Mount Everest is unusual in having an Advanced Base Camp (ABC) in between Base Camp and Camp 1. It’s on the less-visited northern, Tibetan side of the mountain. It’s also probably the world’s highest walk, as you don’t need ropes, axes or crampons to get there.

In 2011 I trekked the 14 miles up to ABC from the North Base Camp, which is a long tough climb. I spent a gruelling five weeks there acting as Communications Manager for the 2011 Iceland Mount Everest Expedition.

As a result, I can probably tell you all you need to know about Mount Everest’s Advanced Base Camp (ABC).

Where is Advanced Base Camp on Everest?

ABC is placed at the head of the East Rongbuk Glacier, just next to the North Col, which is on the most common climbing route up the north side of the mountain.

The first time you walk up to ABC you need to stay overnight at another small camp called Interim Camp. You probably aren’t acclimatised enough to reach ABC in one day the first time.

On my way up I was forced to stay at Interim Camp anyway, because I’d started to get hypothermic and had issues with losing the feeling in some of the fingers on my right hand. Later – after a lot of painful thawing – I realised I’d come dangerously close to getting frostbite without really knowing. The cold creeps up on you like that. Read more about frostbite on Everest here.

The Altitude (Elevation) of Everest’s Advanced Base Camp

At 6400 meters/21,000 feet, ABC is probably the highest point in the world you can trek to without needing to climb with crampons or ropes.

It’s not far off the height of Aconcagua, the highest mountain in the Western and Southern Hemisphere, (6961 metres, 22,838 ft), which I climbed in 2014. I found climbing Aconcagua easier than getting to ABC!

What is the Advanced Base Camp on Everest For?

In 1921 the British Mount Everest Reconnaissance Expedition decided to place ABC next to the North Col, and the same spot is still used today.

This was the very first expedition to Everest and it included amongst its members a young teacher named George Mallory. They had come over the Lhakpa La, a high pass, and needed a proper camp to recuperate, much in the style of military expeditions pushing into hostile territory.

When you get there today you’ll find the tents of several expeditions pitched along a narrow, humped ridge of gravel. It’s on quite a steep slope so you might have to climb quite far to reach your own camp.

ABC is very often snowy, even though the tents are pitched on the gravel and rocks beneath. The blue barrels are carried up by yaks and contain climbing gear, food and if you’re lucky, whisky.

The tents are pitched on the rocky rubble of a small lateral moraine and not on the ice of the East Rongbuk Glacier. That’s because rocks are warmer to sleep on than ice! Glacier ice is always grumbling and cracking underneath you as it moves downhill and this would keep you awake.

The reason Everest has an Advanced Base Camp is that Base Camp is 14 miles away from the mountain. That’s where the road ends, so trucks can deliver climbers, trekkers, Sherpas and their supplies.

The serious climbing begins 14 miles to the south of Base Camp at the North Col, so there has to be another camp with a mess tent for all the climbers to eat together, a kitchen tent, a radio/comms tent, stores tents and tents for the Sherpas and climbers. That’s what ABC provides.

When you’ve spent days up on the high mountain ABC is a great place to come down to, get washed and have a proper meal.

Advanced Base Camp Treks and Cost

The North Advanced Base Camp Trek goes to very high altitude so previous experience of climbing to altitude is essential. If you have trekked to Everest Base Camp on the South side this would be good experience, and if you didn’t have any issues acclimatising on the South side you should be fine.

You have to be ready for the altitude, be prepared for several days of walking and have a readiness to “rough it”. Carrying a backpack will be necessary. Since the 1921 expedition figured out an easier route from Base Camp there is no high pass to cross, so all you will need is well-worn in trekking boots, a pair of ski poles and warm clothing. Your trekking company should supply everything else you need.

If you are used to regular multi-day hill walking you will have the right level of fitness to enjoy your time on this trek. Acclimatisation days involve 3 – 5 hours walking, and the main trek up to and slightly beyond Advanced Base camp will involve 7 – 8 hours walking. The effort will however be worth it for the views alone, and for most of us it will be an altitude record.

That will be combined with the satisfaction of being so close and high on the world’s highest mountain. As you pant round the corner before ABC you will suddenly see the summit of Mount Everest. It looks really close, and far more impressive than the view from the South Everest Base Camp.

The whole round trip will take about 20 days and usually costs around $8000 (£6000) or so. Not cheap, but it’s the highest you can get on Mount Everest without a climbing permit.

Norbu Sherpa was the first climber to be killed on Mount Everest, and is the oldest body there. He died in an avalanche in 1922 along with six other Sherpas. His body was buried in the East Rongbuk Glacier in Tibet.

Oddly enough, my relative was involved in the accident and Norbu Sherpa was his personal servant. Being a doctor he pronounced Norbu dead at the scene and buried him. Here’s the full story.

The Story of the Oldest Body on Everest

My cousin Howard Somervell was an amazing man. He was known as Uncle Hunch in my family, and I met him when I was 13 and he was 81 years old. He told me about the camera he had lent to his friend George Mallory, and told me to go and find it (well, I did, but that’s another story).

He was climbing Everest in one of the earliest expeditions in the 1920s when the first death – that of his assistant Norbu Sherpa, happened.

Along with George Mallory and several others, Somervell was making a third and last desperate attempt to climb the mountain in bad snow conditions, with the slopes leading up to the North Col laden with fresh snow. They were obviously nervous:

“At 10.15 we started the ascent of the snowy slopes of the North Col, which are steepest near their lowest part. Here we considered it most likely that an avalanche would occur.

We tried to start one by stamping and jerking and treading out long trenches across the slope. But the snow would not budge, and we put all thoughts of such a possibility from our minds.”

Howard Somervell, 1922

Somervell went first, unroped and kicking steps in the heavy soft snow. He was followed by Mallory, then a porter, then Crawford, and behind him thirteen more porters, all heavily laden.

This was a huge load for an avalanche-prone slope. Then it happened:

“I had reached a point only 600 feet below our objective, the camp on the Col, when, with a subdued report ominous in the softness of its violence, a crack suddenly appeared about 20 feet above me. The snow on which I was standing began to move, slowly at first then faster.

I was rolled over, and slid down under the snow on a swift journey which I was convinced was my last. So utterly certain of this was I that I felt no conscious fear. To my intense relief, however, the sliding mass began to slow up and, after a short time, stopped.”

Quite extraordinarily there was a photograph taken from Advanced Base Camp at the very moment of the avalanche. You can clearly see a long crack in the snow above the climbers.

To Somervell’s horror, he saw that some of the porters had been swept over an ice-cliff. He down-climbed with Mallory and Crawford and frantically dug for the men, knowing that freshly-avalanched snow freezes solid around a body, locking it in like concrete:

“The first to be dug out was my servant, Norbu. He was dead, poor fellow; with four cylinders of oxygen still tied to his back … I remember well the thought gnawing at my brain. ‘Only Sherpas and Bhotia killed – why, oh why could not one of us Britishers have shared their fate?’

I would gladly at that moment have been lying there dead in the snow, if only to give those fine chaps who had survived the feeling that we had shared their loss, as we had indeed shared the risk.”

The Sherpas killed in the avalanche were:

• Norbu Sherpa
• Lhakpa Sherpa
• Pasang Sherpa
• Pemba Sherpa
• Dorje Sherpa
• Temba Sherpa
• Sange Sherpa.

These, sadly, are therefore the oldest bodies on Everest.

All of them were awarded Olympic Medals at the first Winter Olympics which opened at Chamonix on 25 January 1924. Medals were awarded for the 1922 Mount Everest expedition, and Colonel Strutt accepted them on behalf of the Sherpas.

The medals were awarded posthumously, of course as they had been killed in the avalanche. It is very unusual to award Olympic medals posthumously, even for ‘the greatest feat of alpinism in the preceding four years’.

Norbu Sherpa wasn’t the first person to die on a Mount Everest expedition, though. That was Alexander Kellas, and he was an extraordinary man who deserves a book to himself.

The First Death on an Everest Expedition

Alexander Kellas was the first death on an Everest Expedition, but he didn’t die on the mountain itself.

He was a Scottish scientist who worked on high-altitude aviation during the First World War, becoming fascinated by the problems of hypoxia (shortage of oxygen).

He studied human acclimatisation to altuitude in the field, climbing many Himalayan mountains and discovering that the Sherpa ethnic group was uniquely adapted to living at high altitudes. He hired Sherpas to carry his instruments up high mountains such as Pauhunri at 7,128m (23,386ft), and by 1921 Kellas had spent more time at 7,000m than anyone else on earth.

In 1922 he joined the Mount Everest but he was exhausted by his researches. Unfortunately he contracted dysentery in Sikkim. He was so weak he had to be carried on a stretcher over the pass into Tibet by his friends the Sherpas.

He died on 5 June 1922 as he was carried into Khampa Dzong. The other members of the expedition were shocked at the news. Mallory was mortified, saying:”He died without one of us anywhere near him.”

They buried him in a grave on a stony hillside looking south over the border into Sikkim at the great mountains he had climbed. Mallory described the scene:

“It was an extraordinarily affecting little ceremony burying Kellas on a stony hillside … I shan’t easily forget the four boys, his own trained mountain men, children of nature, seated in wonder on a great stone near the grave while Bury read out the passage from Corinthians.”

So although his body lies far from Mount Everest, Kellas’s pioneering use of Sherpas and his discovery of the value of bottled oxygen led directly to the mountain being climbed by the British in 1953.

May he and the Sherpas who died that year rest in peace.