In 1999 my expedition found George Mallory's body on Mount Everest. The intense public interest in his tragic fate obscured the other actors in that dramatic story.
The pioneers who attempted the first climbs in 1922 and 1924 knew nothing about the mountain other than its height. They had to learn the hard way about the lack of oxygen, the jet-stream winds, the illnesses of altitude, and the vital importance of the Sherpas. They fought cerebral oedema, frostbite, hypothermia and raging thirst in the cold, thin air. They had to find a route, avoid avalanches, and work out what to do when confronted by an insuperable rock climb at extreme altitude. Many of them died.
Howard Somervell was Mallory's closest friend on the mountain in 1922 and 1924. He was an exceptionally gifted man: he had a double first at Cambridge, he was a talented artist and an accomplished musician. He served as a surgeon at the Battle of the Somme during the First World War and was one of the foremost alpinists of the day when he was invited to join the 1922 Mount Everest expedition. After Everest he was awarded an Olympic gold medal for Alpinism in 1924. But in India he will be remembered as a surgeon who dedicated the remainder of his life to healing the sick.
Those pioneers showed the way. Somervell took part in the first attempt to climb the mountain, and his oxygen-free height record in 1924 stood for over 50 years. On his descent he sat down alone suffocating from a frost-bitten larynx. He prepared to die, but at the last moment performed a medical manoeuvre which cleared his airway. He survived to struggle back down.
Howard Somervell was my cousin, and I am one of the last Everesters left alive to have spoken with a climber from George Mallory's party.
