Hell Is Above Us: The Epic Race to the Top of Fumu, the World's Tallest Mountain by Jonathan Bloom (freenovel24 .TXT) 📕

and Thornton’s medical care in Darjeeling provided the team with an opportunity to bid Zeigler farewell. After descending to Camp Two weeks earlier in order to combat altitude sickness, Zeigler had instantaneously recovered from the headaches and fared well in all other respects. But despite escaping unscathed compared to the others who had climbed higher, the expedition had still left him shaken. According to Chhiri Tendi, Zeigler spoke often on the hike back to Darjeeling of returning to the States and dropping the curtain on his climbing avocation. Like Junk he was no longer a young man. When boarding a train for the Assam province, he waved goodbye. No one would see him again. Relatives in the United States were difficult to find, and when they were found they could knew nothing of his whereabouts. The author made a journey to Assam several years back and failed to track Zeigler down. Perhaps the political upheaval of India in the 1940’s consumed him or perhaps his obsession with climbing got the better of him and he chose not to return the United States; choosing instead to move even closer to the Nepalese border and live out his days in the shadows of the mountains he loves.

Also while in Darjeeling, the services of Pasang Dolma and the formerly dyspeptic Sherpa came to a close. Of course, because of their insubordination, Junk did not pay the dyspeptic Sherpa, but to Pasang Dolma he gave twice the promised payment. The man had been brave and trustworthy. Had he not returned to high camp after the Nepalese Cobra situation, Junk would not have survived.

Pasang Dolma was finished with the business of being a Sherpa. The Nepalese Cobras had in fact influenced his way of thinking. Although he disagreed with their brutal methods, Pasang Dolma did share and approve of their sentiments. Back home in Nepal, he and the dyspeptic Sherpa formed a new alliance; an alliance that would gain hundreds of members and international notoriety after the war ended. Their modus operandi was to pose as porters and offer their services to Americans and Europeans who had arrived in India from overseas. Once their services were successfully sold to foreign adventurers, they would do as they were told all the way up to base camp. And then, the night before the initial climb to the Camp One, they would simply leave. The foreigners would wake up to find camp almost entirely abandoned except for their high altitude Sherpa. One can be sure that the priorities of the climbers change at that moment. Backs are turned to the mountain and planning the route home becomes all-consuming. The devious pranksters would proceed to execute this caper over twenty times throughout the early 1940’s. They may have failed to stop the invading hordes from treating Nepal as their own garden of delights, but the message was heard far and wide that not every citizen of Nepal welcomed the white eyes into their Kingdom, and therefore some caution was in order. Ultimately, Pasang Dolma and the remaining Nepalese Cobras fell in with the Provisional Government of Free India. No records exist of them after that. One can only hope they survived the upcoming clashes with the Raj and did not get slaughtered like so many of their brethren during the conflict in Rangoon.

With Chatham sufficiently bandaged, Thornton given more durable plasters, and a large portion of porters paid and let go, the Americans, their equipment, and the remaining porters traveled south toward the ocean. The train from Darjeeling to Calcutta brought great joy to the Americans as it was their first exposure to the modern age since setting out on their adventure. Junk and McGee were clearly not done with their old ways; they drank, being careful not to burn their cracked lips. They smoked cigars. They played poker. Despite all of these activities one usually associates with uproarious fun, the scene was somewhat muted. They went through the motions, but did not laugh or shout. No one was patting anyone else’s back. Foul language was non-existent. Memories of carnage acted as strict chaperones at this party.

And still River Leaf avoided Junk. If she was sitting conversing with McGee and Junk happened to work his way into the discussion, River Leaf would quickly look around as if something important had caught her eye and then she would walk away with haste and furrowed brow. Drake wrote in his journal:

“Everyone can see that the Indian girl is avoiding this Junk character like plague. I’m not sure what she and the late Hoyt had against Junk. He seems like a pretty decent guy. And he kills at poker. He took my straight flush with a four of a kind. I don’t see that as a reason to hate him. He was a gentleman while he was bleeding me dry.

“Well, back to work on my latest invention. I am done creating things that serve the selfish nature of man. No more magic ropes to the summit. No more computing machines to size up one’s coffers. No more war machines for General Motors. When I return to the States, I am going to dedicate myself to the betterment of society. That’s why my focus now turns to designing a ‘double-barreled cigarette’.”

Drake would go on to do exactly that and in 1945 at the end of the war, he actually experienced some success. But when the left lung of a smoker of Camel’s “Twice As Nice” cigarettes literally fell off of the esophagus – dropping like an overripe apple from its tree in a killing frost – Drake’s luck ran out. The killing frost sent more apples falling, and before he knew it, Drake’s employer was swimming in lawsuits. They handled the discord between themselves and Drake in a manner they felt would sever all ties but allow Drake a dignified ending to his long, illustrious career. They fired him on the spot and told the press that