It is exactly 70 years since Monica Jackson, Evelyn Camrass and Betty Stark set off from Kathmandu on the first recorded Himalayan expedition organised solely by women climbers.  To mark International Women’s Day, we take a look at their story.

It all began when Monica Jackson, an enthusiastic climber, gave a talk to the Glasgow branch of the Ladies’ Scottish Climbing Club (LSCC) in February 1954.  Monica had joined a climbing party in the Himalayas two years previously, and she had lots to share about her experiences. 

Monica Jackson

Listening to her with particular interest were two members of the LSCC, namely Betty Stark and Evelyn Camrass.  From Monica, they heard that women should have no more difficulty than men in ascending to high altitudes.  Monica herself was living proof of this, having reached a height of 21,000 feet with no problem.  She had also discovered that the Sherpas who accompanied her group were equally happy to work with male and female climbers.  These were important revelations:  in Monica’s own words, ‘there was nothing particularly esoteric about Himalayan climbing for experienced mountaineers of either sex.’

Evelyn Camrass

After the talk, Betty and Evelyn went over to Monica, and for the rest of the evening the three women discussed an exciting new possibility:  an all-women climbing expedition in the Himalayas.

Where, specifically, would they go?  Nepal seemed to offer the best opportunities.  They were drawn in particular to a loop in the Himalayan chain, north-east of Kathmandu.  This loop comprised the Langtang Himal, which had been visited by the mountaineer Bill Tilman in 1949, and a horseshoe-shaped range called the Jugal Himal.  Tilman had turned back at the edge of the Jugal Himal, on hearing that there was no path up the valley;  on glimpsing its distant peaks, he’d described them as ‘uncompromising’ and ‘far less approachable’ than those of Langtang.

Monica, Evelyn and Betty were intrigued.  As far as they could tell, wrote Betty, this was ‘the last great unexplored area left in Nepal.’  They settled on the spring of 1955 for their expedition, which would avoid the monsoon season.  A permit would still be needed to enter Nepal, so they placed their written proposal, together with the testimonials of referees, before the Himalayan Committee.  To their delight, formal permission was granted.

Unlike most expeditions, particularly of that era, the three women decided not to elect a leader.  Betty explained: ‘It never occurred to us to have one, and since we are all individual in character we probably co-operated better so than if one of us had been in command.’  As it turned out, they were usually of the same mind when dealing with problems, and on the occasions when opinions differed, there was always a casting vote.  Each of them, however, had a role:  Evelyn, who was an obstetrician, was in charge of medical supplies;  Monica dealt with the permits and logistics;  and Betty organised equipment and provisions.

So far, so straightforward.  But this would be an enterprise initiated solely by women, the first of its kind to venture into the Himalayas.  It was bound to attract attention, not all of it positive.  Figures in authority expressed doubts about their ability to survive.  Betty observed:  ‘If we slipped up and got into trouble, there were plenty of people who would say, “These women should never have been allowed out in the mountains on their own.”’  She added:  ‘We did not mean to give them the chance.’

Fearing misrepresentation in the press, the women tried to keep their plans under wraps until the last possible moment.  But by the time they got to Kathmandu, all the papers knew about it, and before they departed on their expedition they were besieged by reporters wanting to know where they would camp and what peak they were going to climb.  The ensuing articles indulged in idle speculation about what lipstick and makeup they would wear.  Betty poured scorn on this idea, explaining that they plastered themselves with ‘glacier cream’ which was an early form of sunscreen.  Even this failed to protect them from sunburn. 

And as for their friendship, there was, as Betty pointed out, ‘not much room for disagreement in a tent.’  As they struck out towards Tempathang with a party of hired porters, the three women had a sensation of leaving their own worlds behind.  Inevitably, their different personalities came to light:  Evelyn would lie in bed every morning until the latest possible moment, but her easy-going nature made her a great companion.  Monica was insightful, and quick to see the funny side of a problem.  Betty found herself caring less about what other people thought.  ‘In the Himalaya,’ she wrote, ‘it did not seem worth while to worry over anything, even day-to-day problems as they arose.’

At the village of Tempathang, about 50 miles from Kathmandu, the expedition reached a crucial point.  Now, they needed an answer to the question that Bill Tilman had asked six years before.  Was there a route into the Jugal Himal?  An old man named Nima Lama came to speak to them.  He knew of a path that led to some yak pastures, he told them, and the highest of these lay near a glacier.  He offered to show them the way.

Betty, Evelyn and Monica had recruited Mingma Gyalgen, who was their head Sherpa, back in Kathmandu.  Mingma had been warmly recommended to them by Tim McKinnon, a member of the climbing team currently tackling Kanchenjunga.  In Tempathang, Mingma now helped them to hire a team of Sherpas, and the women soon made friends with them.  These people, wrote Betty, ‘could run with their loads without any trouble - but they stopped often to enjoy life and consider the next stage.’  The party crossed the Langtang river by a bridge of logs and camped on a grassy meadow high above the gorge. 

That night, while retiring discreetly to some bushes, Betty took an unwary backward step and found herself falling through thin air.  Her flailing arms struck a branch and she clutched it just in time.  In the darkness, she hauled herself up and made it safely back to her tent.  It was only in the daylight that she saw just how narrowly she’d escaped plummeting hundreds of feet into the gorge below.

This was just the kind of story that expedition’s critics would have relished.  But several strenuous days later, the women tackled a 3,000-foot slope that never relented in its steepness, and reached a broad shelf at about 14,500 feet.  Here, among the yak-herders’ stone shelters that Nima Lama had described, they pitched their camp.  Evelyn and Mingma went off on reconnaissance, and found themselves looking down on the Phurbi Chyachumbu glacier as it descended in a huge, frozen cascade to the Pulmutang valley.

Phurbi Chyachumbu

The Phurbi Chyachumbu glacier was the ‘highway’ to the mountains of the Jugal Himal, but ascending it demanded all their skill and attention.  Slender ice-bridges threatened to give way at any moment:  falling up to her waist in a hidden crevasse, Monica heard shards of ice tinkling into the void beneath her feet.  Standing on a ridge at the top, they gazed across at a range of peaks that glistened in the bright sunshine.  Which could they attempt?  One mountain had pure blue ice flanking a relatively rounded summit, but it was also disgorging a difficult-looking glacier.  Mingma pointed to it.  ‘That is a good mountain,’ he said to Monica.  ‘Why don’t we climb that?’

Lower icefall, Phurbi Chyachumbu glacier

‘The wind was still blowing hard on the morning of the 11th of May,’ wrote Monica, ‘but the day was fine and clear.  It was now or never for the domed mountain.’  They had camped overnight on a glacier in the heart of the Jugal Himal.  At daybreak Monica and Betty donned crampons, picked up their ice-axes and struck out towards the summit.  With them went Mingma Gyalgen and Ang Temba, another Sherpa.  But Evelyn, by now, had succumbed to the effects of altitude sickness and was forced to stay behind. 

They climbed in pairs:  Betty was roped up with Ang Temba, and Monica with Mingma Gyalgen;   their pace was hastened by the approach of menacing clouds.  Although she was making good progress, Monica realised that Mingma should lead, as he was a faster climber.  She wrote:  ‘Mingma went up that ice very nearly at a run with me tearing after him.  We had never before moved so fast in the mountains, and I was now higher than I had ever been before - we must have been well over 21,000 feet.’ 

Gyalgen Peak

Monica was well adjusted to climbing at high altitudes but now even she was having difficulty.  Gasping, she implored Mingma to slow down.  With a beaming smile, he simply pointed up the ice-slope towards a little apex of snow.  For Monica, the sight was like a dose of oxygen.  She took a deep breath, and said, ‘All right, come on.’  She and Mingma went up side by side to the summit. 

Betty and Ang Temba arrived shortly afterwards, and after celebrating with chocolate and mint cake, they all decided it was time to beat a retreat.  Now, it was just a matter of getting back down the crevasses of the glacier in a worsening storm…

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Monica, Betty and Evelyn named the mountain that they had climbed Gyalgen Peak, after their head Sherpa, Mingma Gyalgen.  It is now named Loenpo Gang East (in some sources Leonpo Gang East), and it rises to 22,090 feet (6,733 metres).   The three friends had succeeded in their aim of exploring the Jugal Himal, and they considered that the first ascent of a hitherto unnamed peak was a bonus. 

In a report for The Alpine Journal, Monica paid tribute to their Sherpa companions:  ‘Of the immense goodwill of all these people I cannot say enough.  Their courtesy, kindness and enthusiasm for our enterprise endeared them greatly to us.  When we left them all at Kathmandu we felt as if we were parting from old friends.’  She also described the happiness that she, Betty and Evelyn had felt at being in the mountains:  ‘Up there, each moment was sufficient for itself, and the world pressed on us not at all.’

The expedition’s title, the Scottish Women’s Himalayan Expedition, does not take into account the male Sherpas who played a crucial role in its success;  it does, however, reflect the original belief shared by Evelyn, Monica and Betty, that women were capable of instigating a serious Himalayan expedition and seeing it through to a safe and successful conclusion. 

On 14th December 1955, Betty Stark gave a talk about the expedition for RSGS in Edinburgh. 

Betty Stark, RSGS Lecture

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The Scottish Women’s Himalayan Expedition is described more fully in my forthcoming book for RSGS, entitled ‘Voices of the Earth’.  It will also contain some previously unpublished photographs of the expedition, for which I’m indebted to Monica’s son, Simon Jackson.

 

Quotes:

Monica Jackson and Elizabeth Stark, Tents in the Clouds (1957)

Monica Jackson, ‘The Scottish Women’s Himalayan Expedition’, The Alpine Journal, May 1956

IMAGES

Evelyn Camrass (later Evelyn McNicol), the expedition’s doctor (public domain)

Monica Jackson (public domain)

Phurbi Chyachu, a mountain in the Jugal Himal (public domain).  This peak overlooks the Phurbi Chyachumbu glacier, which in turn was the expedition’s route in to the Jugal Himal and Gyalgen Peak.

Lower icefall on the Phurbi Chyachumbu glacier, illustration from Monica Jackson’s article, ‘The Scottish Women’s Himalayan Expedition’, The Alpine Journal, May 1956

Gyalgen Peak (left, snow-covered), illustration from Monica Jackson’s article, ‘The Scottish Women’s Himalayan Expedition’, The Alpine Journal, May 1956

 

RSGS lecture programme for 1955, showing Betty’s talk in Edinburgh (RSGS Collections)