The following article is from the October 1971 issue of Summit Magazine, written by Dee Molenaar. Molenaar was the magazine's Northwestern Editor at the time and one of the esteemed watercolorists-cum-climbers of the modern age.
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Minya Konka
By Dee Molenaar
“We advanced upward at a slow, steady pace calculated to produce a minimum of fatigue. Our altitude was now nearly 24,000 feet, and all the other peaks in the range had sunk into insignificance below the line of the horizon. I was surprised to find myself not much more affected by breathlessness and lassitude than on the two days of carrying loads to 22,000 feet. Probably the greater altitude was compensated for by the day of acclimatization at Camp IV and by the absence of packs. Burdsall, too, seemed better than before and climbed splendidly.
“The sun was just leaving the meridian as we encountered the first of the broken ice. We wound our way up through the tangle of towering pinnacles and top-heavy blocks of ice. Although able to see upward but a short distance, we felt the top was not far off. We spurred ourselves on to a greater effort, though our pace was scarcely more than a slow crawl. A few steps and we would pause to lean panting with bent heads over our ice axes. Looking back and down between my feet along the slope of the ridge, it appeared impossible that I had taken such a very long time to climb those few steps from where Burdsall stood.
“We found, to our dismay, that what we had taken for the summit was in reality just another bump on the ridge. On reaching it I turned to the right out onto the huge western face, while Burdsall held me carefully belayed. The view thus afforded showed what was unmistakably the summit some three hundred feet above; obviously there was nothing to be gained by continuing in this direction. I retraced my steps and we changed our course more to the left.
Profile map of the Minya Konka range from the American Geographical Society, 1934.
“At last, cutting steps up over a low wall, I saw that our present position was connected with the summit by a very narrow unbroken crest. Though it appeared but a short distance above, it was fully an hour before we stood — at 2:40 p.m.— on the highest point after nine and a half hours of steady climbing. The horizon surrounded us in one unbroken ring. No mountain massifs nor even clouds relieved the vast expanse of blue-black sky. At such great heights the visible horizon is seen at some considerable distance below the true horizon. Its depression was very evident and I fancied I could actually see the curvature of the earth. The panorama of tremendous snow peaks, which had so dominated the sky at our 19,800-foot camp, had now dwindled to a series of mere white patches against the brown plain.
“Rested, we rose and warily approached the eastern edge of the summit, fearing cornices. At our feet, nearly three miles below, the great sea of clouds lapped at the bases of the peaks. As the eye travelled eastward it moved away across the endless plains of China to the distant line where earth and sky met. Here and there rugged black islands of rock protruded through the mists in bold relief.
“North and south the entire range lay at our feet. To the west stretched the vast undulating plateau of Tibet, broken here and there by isolated snow ranges, mysterious and remote.
“We spoke of Emmons lying in camp below, and heartily wished him with us to share in this moment of victory.
“Flag waving was certainly not one of the purposes of our expedition, yet since this was the highest point of land (24,900 feet) which Americans had ever reached, we flew the American flag for a few brief seconds from my inverted ice axe while Dick photographed it. The same courtesy was first shown the Chinese emblem because of the many kindnesses extended to us by that country whose guests we were.”
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The date was October 28, 1932. The location: remote, interior Asia, on the culminating crest of a range of snowy mountains that extend north in a broad arc joining the eastern edge of the Tibetan Plateau with the Szechwan Basin of China; to geographers, lat. 29° 37', long. 101° 52'; to geologists, perhaps the largest granitic batholith on earth. The principals: Terris Moore and Richard Burdsall, two members of the four-man Sikong Expedition.
Thus marked the first ascent of China’s highest peak, 24,900-foot Minya Konka, which — to the Western World — for centuries remained wreathed in the mystery afforded by its extreme isolation from other great peaks and better known ranges. The summit was the second highest in the world attained to that time — Kamet, 25,447 feet, was climbed by the British in 1931 — and Minya Konka was to stand for 25 years as the highest climbed by an American party.
The ascent of Minya Konka (or Minya Gungka — a closer pronunciation) was a breakthrough for American mountain exploration abroad and an early indication of the potential of American climbers to achieve distinction in world mountaineering circles. The actual climb of the peak was preceded by a 1500-mile steamship journey from Shanghai up the length of the Yangtze River and its upper tributaries to Chungking, Ipin, and Loshan — similar in length to a journey up the Mississippi-Missouri Rivers from New Orleans to the Montana Rockies. From Loshan the journey was continued by bus to Chengtu, capital of the province of Szechwan, the agriculturally richest and most heavily populated in China; by bus and rickshaw to Yachow; and with 18 porters by road and trail to Tatsienlu (Kanting) at altitude 8,500 feet.
Feature image from the article, “Minya Konka” by Dee Molenaar, in the October 1971 issue of Summit Magazine. Shown is a map of the 1932 Sikong Expedition route. From the American Geographical Society, 1934.
Leaving Shanghai on June 16, 1932, an advance contingent of the party, Burrdsall and Arthur B. Emmons, III, arrived at Tatsienlu on July 23rd, then spent most of August at strategic points on ridges west of the Minya Konka massif, in a detailed triangulation survey of the altitudes and precise locations of the great peak and its nearly as impressive neighbors. When Moore and Jack Young, a Chinese American, arrived on the scene in September, the party first examined from afar the lengthy northwest ridge and decided it was obviously not the most promising route to the summit, then reconnoitered the southern approaches to the peak. After climbing to about 20,000 feet on the south, however, they found that side offered no encouragement for a better route — it was to be the northwest ridge after all.
On October 3, from a base camp at 14,000 feet on the western approach the party worked its way to the base of the northwest ridge where the real climbing began. On October 4 Camp I was established at 18,000 feet on a steep spur descending from the crest of the ridge, and on October 8 Camp II was placed atop the main ridge at 19,800 feet. Several time-consuming relays were required of the small team to carry the food and gear to this point before they tackled the lengthy, ever-steepening ridge leading to the peak. Moore and Emmons, the most experienced of the party, then explored their way along the heavily corniced snow crest and on October 14 placed Camp III at 20,700 feet on the near side of the Hump (21,000 feet), a major obstacle preceding the final, increasingly steep upper ridge. From there, on the 16th they scouted the tricky traverse around the Hump and ascended to about 23,400 feet before returning back down the mountain to Base Camp for a well-earned rest.
On October 20, Moore, Emmons, and Burrdsall returned up the mountain and by the 25th had placed Camp IV on a shelf dug into the snowy ridge crest at 22,000 feet; they then returned to Camp III for the final loads. On the evening of October 26, all three occupied Camp IV; the plan was for the better acclimated Moore and Emmons to make the summit bid the next day. However, fate struck a dire blow when Emmons, while slicing a frozen biscuit, cut deeply into his left hand, severing a number of sensory nerves to the two little fingers. With his hand now unable to grasp a rope or axe for the most difficult part of the climb still ahead, Emmons was forced to bow out of the summit attempt, with his place taken by Burrdsall, still not well acclimatized. However, Burrdsall insisted he was fit to carry on and, after another day’s rest in the wind-battered tent — much of the time spent playing chess — he was better prepared to join Moore.
October 28 dawned cold and cloudless. Leaving Emmons to hold down the camp at 5 a.m., Moore and Burrdsall were off on the final stage of that which had begun in Shanghai 4 months earlier. The weather held and after a long upward struggle, the two reached the top about 10 hours after leaving camp (as described by Moore at the beginning of this account).
Map from the American Geographical Society, 1934.
The 2-day descent of the mountain by the trio was a nightmare for Emmons. Besides being partially incapacitated by his injured hand, he found his feet badly frostbitten, and was barely able to work his way down the steep slopes and virtually had to crawl into Base Camp. A few days later, after Moore had gone for help, Emmons was on his way by pony to Tatsienlu, then by litter to the hospital at Yachow, where he finally received medical attention for his gangrenous feet. As a consequence, he suffered the loss of all his toes and forward parts of both feet, and remained hospitalized for 7 months at Yachow.
According to Terris Moore (written commun., July 1971), the expedition had an interesting pre-history. Originally it included seven men, was led by Gene Lamb and was known as the “Lamb” Expedition to Northern Tibet. The Lamb Expedition was sponsored by The Explorers Club and supported by The American Geographical Society in donations of surveying instruments. It had as its objective a survey of the altitude and possible ascent of Amne Machen, then believed possibly higher than Everest. However, no sooner had the necessary funding been accomplished — a difficult task during Depression-ridden 1931 — then Japan invaded Manchuria in northern China. The party was actually underway by steamer in late 1931 when more and more of northern China fell to the Japanese military machine.
Upon their arrival in Shanghai in January 1932, the members of the party had few hopes that they would be able to continue inland to their objective. While they were in the International Settlement, a Jap battleship lobbed several shells into Shanghai and planes dropped a few bombs on parts of the city. Immediately members of the party were conscripted to join small patrol units of a Marine Corps headquarters there, and for a few days they served on rifle-patrol duty in parts of the beleaguered city. Eventually calm replaced the tension and they were released from duty; however, it now seemed unlikely the party would be granted approval to proceed to northwestern China. By train they were able to reach only Peking. Members of the party, Dr. Fouad Al Akl and pre-med student Lewis Thorne could not continue in their original plan to administer to natives inland. Burrdsall, Emmons, Young, and Moore enrolled for a short time in the North China Union Language School to learn conversational Mandarin Chinese. Lamb and his wife decided to proceed on their own into the interior. Akl and Thorne soon after returned home. After several months of relative peace, the remaining four sought and were given permission for an expedition of their own to Minya Konka, which they believed to be higher than Amne Machen. They named themselves the Sikong Expedition.
The Sikong Expedition was given approval for its principal objectives: (1) the accurate measurement of the altitude of Minya Konka, which on an earlier map appeared with the stimulating altitude of 30,000 ft.); (2) a reconnaissance for a climbing route and a first ascent, if possible; and (3) acquisition of a small collection of the plant and animal life of the region. All three objectives were successfully achieved. After the climb, Jack Young spent several weeks collecting such rare species as the giant panda, blue sheep, brown (grizzly) bear, black bear, musk deer, goral (“goat-antelope”), wild pig, monkeys, and white-eared pheasant. Along with 38 birds collected by Burrdsall, a number of these acquisitions were later presented by the expedition to the Metropolitan Museum of the Academia Sinica in Nanking. Two grizzly cubs eventually ended up at the Bronx Zoo, where they lived several years.
The expedition was unique in being the first to climb a peak of Himalayan size by Alaskan methods — dispensing with porters above the snowline, with the climbers doing their own packing from there up. By modern criteria, the expedition was virtually on a shoestring budget. It cost each man about $1500 for the 6 months from Shanghai to the peak and return to Shanghai. Six porters carried for them from the Konka Gompa Lamasery to Base Camp at 14,000 feet; two went to Camp I at 18,000 feet.
The equipment, clothing and food lists should be of interest to the present generation of expeditioneers: a 7' x 7' x 7' Logan tent and a 7'8" x 8'4" two-man tent; eiderdown sleeping bags large enough for two — as they were used on occasion during the climb; Trapper Nelson packboards, Optimus stove, folding candle lanterns, flashlight, axes, ropes, crampons and willow wands; a first-aid kit consisting of a few bandages, iodine, and laxative. Clothing included Abercrombie and Fitch “Barker boots” — rubber shoe with 12-inch leather top, with felt insoles and large enough for two pairs of woolen socks; wool shirts and sweaters with wind parkas and windproof gabardine trousers with tape at bottoms to fasten over boots to keep snow out; face masks of thin leather; aviator helmets, leather mitts with gauntlets and finer wool mittens; skin cream, and water bottles. Miscellaneous local products such as yak butter and cheese, mein (noodles), tsamba (barley flour), and Chinese bread, their diet while on the climb consisted mostly of dried soups, cereals, vegetables and fruits, sugar, milk, cocoa, chocolate, malted-milk tablets, lemonade powder, tinned meats, crackers, biscuits, and jam.
According to available records Minya Konka has been climbed only once since the 1932 ascent, and by the same route. On June 13, 1947, the climb was repeated by a Chinese party (All-China Federation of Trade Unions Expedition). Although initial Chinese press coverage of that expedition failed to recognize the earlier American ascent, subsequent official accounts indicate they acknowledge the Moore-Burrdsall climb.
The lives of the members of the American party went interesting ways following the expedition, and all remained lasting friends through life. Each member of the uniquely small party had special skills and interests which contributed to the overall success of their undertaking and which influenced the course of their later lives.
Members of the 1932 Sikong Expedition: Back row, I. to r., Richard Burdsall, Jack Young, Terris Moore. Front, Lewis Thorne and Arthur B. Emmons, III. (Thorne had to return to states from Shanghai prior to journey into interior.)
According to reflections by Terris Moore, Chinese-American Jack Theodore Young was in many ways the most interesting member of the party. Although not an experienced mountaineer, Young organized the six porters and personally reached 20,000 feet in support of the climbing efforts. Young had been on an earlier exploration in the area in 1928, as a member of the game-hunting expedition led by General Theodore Roosevelt and his brother Kermit. During World War II, Young served with the Chinese War Government and the U.S. Army with distinction. Now retired as a Brigadier General, Jack Young lives with his wife June in Webster Groves, Missouri.
Richard Burrdsall, a bachelor all his life, had a career as civil engineer at Port Chester, New York. At 37, he was the oldest member of the 1932 party. In 1938 he was a member of the First American Karakoram Expedition to K2. Although too old to be included in the 1953 American expedition to K2, he served as treasurer of that expedition until his untimely death in February, 1953, near 21,000 feet on the slopes of Aconcagua in the Andes. After having reached the summit he exhausted himself while engaged in semi-rescue efforts for an Argentine party then on the mountain.
Terris Moore compiled a fine record of climbs both before and after the Minya Konka adventure, and is one of the most widely travelled of the American climbers of his generation. Among his travels in this country and abroad he includes such diverse trips as ascent in the Alps, Adirondacks, Montana Rockies, California, South America and Alaska-Yukon. In the Andes in 1929, he made the first ascent of Volcano Sangay (17,460’) and an ascent of Chimborazo (20,500’); in Alaska-Yukon, he made first ascents of Mts. Bona (16,420’), Fairweather (15,400’), and Sanford (16,200’), and a third ascent of Mt. McKinley, as a consultant in the Army Quartermaster Corps in the joint American-Canadian Air Force expedition in 1942. Moore received his MBA in 1933 and DCS (Doctor of Commercial Science) in 1937, from Harvard. He subsequently served as President of the Boston Museum of Science and in 1949-53 as President of the University of Alaska. He also achieved distinction as a bush pilot and has made numerous high-altitude landings in support of various scientific endeavors on Alaskan-Yukon peaks. Now retired, Dr. Moore spends much of his time commuting between Alaska and his home at Borestone Mountain, Maine, where he lives with his wife Katrina.
Arthur B. Emmons, III, like Moore, saw many summits and countries in his time: his pre-Minya Konka climbs varied from the Alps, Dolomites, Canadian Rockies, and Alaska to a first ascent of the northeast face of Mt. Hood in Oregon. Following the Minya Konka climb, and in spite of the loss of parts of his feet, he was a member of the 1936 British-American Expedition to Nanda Devi, which saw the first ascent of that peak by Tilman and Odell. Emmons’ career was with the State Department, in which he attained top echelon position during assignments in Canada, South America, Asia, and Europe. Upon the outbreak of World War II he was serving as American Consul in Seoul, Korea. Imprisoned in Japan, he was there during the famous Doolittle Raid of April, 1942 — he soon after found his Japanese captors, who had been exceedingly arrogant up to that time, suddenly become very well behaved. He later served as top State Department representative with General MacArthur in Japan immediately after the war. By the winter of 1961–62 he had achieved ambassadorial rank, but soon thereafter was tragically stricken by cancer and died 6 months later at age 52. Terris Moore recalls vividly his last visit with Emmons a week before his death. The chief topic of their conversation during the sad parting was in the far away and long ago — of the high adventures shared on the mighty Minya Konka.
Suggested reading:
Burrdsall, R.L., and Emmons, A.B., III, 1935, Men Against the Clouds—The Conquest of Minya Konka: Harper and Brothers Publishers, N.Y. 292 p. Out of print but available in libraries.
Burrdsall, R.L., and Moore, Terris, Climbing the Mighty Minya Konka, Landmark of China’s New Skyway; National Geographic Magazine, May 1943.
Moore, Terris, The Minya Konka Climb: American Alpine Journal, 1933, v. 2, no. 1.
Emmons, A.B., III, The Reconnaissance of Minya Konka: American Alpine Journal, 1934, v. 2, no. 2.
On the Cover: The Sheer Pyramidal Peak of Minya Konka
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