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IN THIS ISSUE - -
• Through Himalayan Passes Into Sealed Tibet by John Nicholls Booth
• Al Adams' World of Adventure
• The Adventurers' Club of New York
• Howard Gee Writes
0 Percy Chase - A Eulogy by Al Adams
AaV O-MAATO 1. '.. thb iOiitis
PUBLISHED MONTHLY BY THE ADVENTURERS CLUB, LOS ANGELES
706 WEST PICO BOULEVARD, LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA 90017
Volume 24:8 August 1981 Founded 1922
"So forbidden to entry was the old Tibet that! became but one of a literal handful of Americans in history to have entered the portals of this country."
Through Himalayan Passes
Nothing changed substantially in the remote Asiatic kingdom of Tibet for one thousand years until the fateful year of 1950. At that time, China invaded the strange land and resumed a suzereignty it had briefly held and then lost when the Manchu dynasty was toppled. It, the decades since the loss of its "independent" statehood, Tibet has slowly become unzipped to the outside world. Roads, trucks, airplanes, Visitors and modern conveniences now appear ill the territory, Virtually all of them almost non-existent in the Tibet I came to know in its
Into Sealed Tibet
by JOHN NICHOLLS BOOTH
medieval period hangover. So forbidden to entry was the old Tibet
that I became but one of a literal handful of Americans in history to have entered the portals of this country, doing so in the fall of 1948. What stories about the place had leaked out, told by imaginative travelers and explorers! Lamas were reputed to float across chasms, the dead were restored to life and people loped vast distances at unbelievable speeds without stopping. It was the locale of James Hilton's fictional best seller, L" 'lori-zons, an idyllic place where people remain perpetually young.
More confirmable were the facts that women (We're moving on now to page 3)
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ADVENTURERS' CLUB NEWS
THE ADVENTURERS' CLUB NEWS USPS (389-310) Published monthly
Editor ..........Bob Williams
Reporters - Bill Buchanan, Smo key Storms John Boden, and others.
SUBSCRIPTION PRICE. . . $1.00 per year
Entered as second class postage at the Post office at Los Angeles, California-
CLUB MEETS AT ADVENTURERS' CLUB ROOM
706 West Pico Boulevard
Los Angeles, CA 90015 Phone 749-3537 (Thursday nights only)
1981 OFFICERS
President ...... George Manchester
1st Vice President ...... Dick Kyle
2nd Vice President . . . Owen O'Callaghan
Secretary ........ Roy Roberts
Treasurer ........ Charles Ross
BOARD OF DIRECTORS
John F. Cameron Marvin Rosenberg
Donald G. Orosz Peter C. Parfitt
William L. Carr "Smokey" C. Storms
Dwayne L. Merry
NIGHT OF HIGH ADVENTURE
October 17, 1981 (Saturday)
Ambassador Hotel Los Angeles
DON'T MISS IT!
IN THE LIBRARY
with John Boden
OUR LIBRARY HAS:
The Explorers Cookbook. Loin 01 lion,
elephant trunk, haunch of kangaroo, soup of powdered yak and a hundred other heard of and unheard of delectable dainties. A strange cookbook indeed. A potpouri of food and snatches of adventure and careers of members
of the Explorers Club who contributed the amazing recipes garnered from the corners of the earth, all meticulously detailed for the care-ful use of any chef who is cosmopolitan enough in taste and skill to gather the ingredients and execute directions given. You will be interested
in the biographical material of Waldo Ruess and
Willard Bascom with their contributions to the feast. It is a fine large volume, well illustrated and altogether an admirable example of the printers art.
OUR LIBRARY - A STOREHOUSE OF ADVENTURE TALES
Here we have, for those who will taste of it, reading pleasures for some not destined to visit some of the far places described. Many of our men can relive through the eyes of others far off scenes familiar to them by their own former ad-ventures. For him about to embark on a jour-ney or venture here are sources of helpful infor-mation to heighten the color of his forthcoming
expedition -- "to bring back the wealth of the Indies one must take the wealth of the Indies with him".
—John Boden
August 1981
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(BOOTH IN TIBET. ..from page 1)
boasted several husbands, one quarter of all the men resided in monasteries and the mail was carried by pony express. Witnesses called Chomo Lhari the world's most beautiful moun-tain, sufficient reason for this to be one of the goals of my journey. Another was the presence near its soaring flanks of the planet's highest inhabited city, Phari Dzong. As though anyone required a third explanation for wishing to trek into Tibet, I sought to investigate the legend that Jesus of Nazareth had spent the unknown and unrecorded years of his brief lifetime studying in its ancient lamaseries.
A constituent of my church in the Chicago suburb of Evanston, Illinois, had been one of the most courageous early explorers of the domain. Professor William Montgomery Mc-Govern had subsequently written his classic book To Lhasa in Disguise telling how he had eluded border guards and capture in order to reach the sacred capitol city. Under his conscientious guidance, but unavailingly, across four years I sought permission by mail to visit the country. Lhasa did not even deign to answer my correspondence.
During a sabbatical spent roving Asia, crash-
ing into trouble and writing for the Chicago Sun-Times, ultimately I reached the picturesque hill station of Darjeeling in India. In the clear
air of a chilly sunrise, one could glimpse the very tip of Mount Everest on the horizon. Before us, spread out in the most glorious panorama of my lifetime, was the world's third highest mountain, across the valley, the giant snow-covered mass of Kanchenjunga.
Through a series of fortuitous meetings and timings that involved the manager of the Mount Everest Hotel, the Prime Minister of Bhutan and India's liaison officer with Tibet, a permit
was incredulously granted me to penetrate Tibet's high tableland as far as Phari Dzong. My good fortune was compounded by securing
the set-vices of a gruff and white-haired, elderly Englishman, W.J. Kydd, who had helped outfit the British Mount Everest expeditions that used to start from Darjeeling. He hired my four porters, requisitioned all supplies, steered me through the required physical examination, permit necessities and trail arrangements to observe through the great mountains. A year later, the Christian Science Monitor was to reprint, in its national editions (April 30, 1951), the story of my first encounter with the legendary Mr. Kydd.
As we rascals filed out of Darjeeling, my short, swarthy porters carrying their burdens by a tumpline across the forehead, I mentally reviewed the route ahead. We would march along the Himalayan foothills and then down into the Tista River valley. Entering the state of Sikkim, a mail truck could be grabbed to save a few miles trekking upward into Gangtok. Again on foot, we would start the long haul across the entire kingdom (whose Maharajah would later be married for a few years to an
an American named Hope Cooke), climbing steadily upward. We planned to cross the border into Tibet at Nathu la, a windswept, barren pass higher than the summit of any peak in the American Rockies. Plunging down to the bottom of the Chumbi Valley our plodding steps would gradually lift us back up onto the tableland of the very heart of Tibet proper. There, we would come upon Choino Lhari and Phari Dzong, two recognized goals of our foot slogging.
My sirdar, Ang Bao, was 34 years old. He had spent a total of 128 days up on Everest with the 1933 and 1936 British expeditions.
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ADVENTURERS' CLUB NEWS
--
John Booth, face protected by a balaclava wool helmet, stands beside a yak herdsmen's tent. The sacred peak of Tibet, 23,997 foot Chomo
Lhari, rises behind.
Smythe took him along as his personal camera-man on his 1930 attempt to scale Kaiichcn junga. Ang Rao was a last minute substitution for Tenzing Norgay, another sirdar who later was to be the first, with Edmund Hilary, to
reach the top of Everest. In Gangtok, a snafu developed. My permit
was almost withdrawn. Through a misunder-standing, the Indian political agent had assumed
I was still a Canadian, traveling on a British passport. This was no longer the case. With
sensitive understanding of my predicament and contractual expenses, he finally relented, scrib-bling "Mount Everest Hotel, Darjceling" as my "official" residence. As an American, my trek would have been terminated there and then.
For two seemingly endless days we trudged
upward along a rocky trail. Heavy mists
pressed down upon us giving the impression of a black twilight. Only on our return journey were we able to observe and appreciate time rocky chasms and dramatic settings through which we were marching. Although it would take several days to accomplish it, we knew that we were steadily circling Kanchenjunga,
28,146 feet high, the largest single mountain
mass on earths. One cold, foggy morning, I sat down for a
moment's rest, my feet dangling over a 1,000 foot cliff. Only the buffeting wind seemed to create any danger of falling over. It was no
different than simply sitting on an outside window ledge or scaffolding near the top of the Empire State building, swinging one's feet over
the streets below. "Stand by wall," Aug Bao shouted, in alarm.
His warning prompted me to jump up and flatten my back against the rock wall on the other side of the narrow trail. Seconds later, a trails of heavily laden mules lumbered by. One slight bump from the sidepack of an aimimnal would have been enough to sweep me over the cliff.
Bronze-skinned Tibetans wearing floppy-eared fur caps, heavy animal skin and yak wool clothing, and Eskimo-like knee boots, passed us periodically, grinning and swinging downward with an easy gait. Increasingly thin air, making breathing more and more difficult for me, was no problem for these people. Their bodies had been adapted over mnillenia to the heights.
A series of dak (mail post) bungalows had been erected, years before, by the British, one day's march apart, on the long route from Kalimnpong, in Sikkim, to Lhasa. Inside these roughly built structures, I had permission to eat and roll up in my blankets on those frigid nights. Howling winds outside assaulted the mountain flanks. I slept wearing two pairs of trousers and a heavy, wool-lined army jacket. Yet I was still cold.
Above forbidding Lake Chaiiggu, the treeline now below us, my momentarily frightening encounter occurred, in the wee hours of the night, with what my porters claimed was an Abominable Snowman frequenting that area.
August 1981
Page 5
At the annual Christmas Party of the Adven-turers' Club, in 1979, 1 rCCOLlntCd this event. in my view, it was simply a burly Tibetan bandit trying to claw his way through a window into my sleeping quarters.
When Lowell Thomas and his son (now Lieutenant Governor of Alaska) followed my trail about a year later, they were provided with an armed escort due to such dangers. Almost all [one Tibetans we passed were armed with a long dagger or heavy log for protection.
Near Lake Changgu, Theos Bernard, author of
Penthouse of the Cods, was murdered a few months after I passed through. He was trying to make an unauthorized entry into Tibet.
In spite of a galelike wind, blankets of snow
clung to sharp walls of the Himalayas stretching away on both sides. We struggled, panting, up the last, steep gradiant to Nathu Ia. La means pass, in Tibetan. Just under 15,000 feet above sea level, at last we stood at the very portals of forbidden Tibet. Hundreds of tattered cloth prayer flags, tied to a yak cord strung across the trail, on two poles, to form an arch, whipped in the wind as we passed beneath them. By
the time I had taken four photos of the breath-taking panorama lying before us my fingers were frozen.
During the next two days, we trekked
through one of the loveliest and loftiest valleys
in the world. Perhaps it only seemed that way
in contrast to the stark and cruel landscapes that preceded and followed it. If Shangri Ia
exists it could be here! Perhaps James Hilton
derived the name of his fabled utopia from an
actual Tibetan place called Kangra Ia. In the Chumbi Valley we found warm sunshine, flow-
ers, Singing birds and gurgling brooks. Hemmed in by rocky mountain walls, it was a haven of peace ten thousand feet UI) in the clouds.
Caravan attendants no longer greeted inc cheerfully once I had crossed into their land. Cold suspicion marked their features. My discomfort was increased by a badly swollen Achilles tendon behind my left ankle. Walking created an excruciating pain. Thus it was when I hobbled into the compound of the frontier post and was confronted by live stoney-laced Tibetan guardsmen. After an ominous period, staring silently at me, they escorted me inside a stone building with hanging doors of yak skin.
The chief, a handsome, delicately-faced gentle-man in heavy robes reclining amid a mountain of pillows, examined my frontier permit-upside down. After a few amenities, drinking cups of yak butter tea together showing each other grimy snapshots of family members and promising to visit him on my return, I was allowed to go hack out onto the trail.
. -
Lamas sit with Booth on steps leading into a temple connected with one of the monasteries at Phari Dzong where he was investigating the legend that Christ once studied in Tibet.
At Gautsa, a miserable village over which giant rocks hung precariously like Damoclesian swords, my leg seemed unable to bear me much further. Knowing my condition, a trade agent
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ADVENTURERS' CLUB NEWS
a few miles back in Yatung had given me a chit
to the government handling the mail ponies in
Gautsa. In return for promising to carry the
mail, I could ride an official pony up to Phari
Dzong. Unfortunately, my display of horse-manship quickly persuaded the pony keeper not to entrust me with the pouch in his hands. By a hair's breadth I missed the distinction of carrying the mail for the Tibetan Pony Express. But I was allowed to use the sleek brown animal
eyeing me nervously.
TIfl Riding Tibetan style without stirrups. Booth is approaching the high tableland on a Tibetan
mail pony.
I rode Tibetan style, ignoring stirrups, so that if the pony stumbled on rocks or ledges one would have a better chance of rolling off the animal's back as he goes down. Rounding the shoulder of a mountain buttress, I gasped with astonishment. Suddenly, before me, rising above the brown terrain stood the brilliant white 23,997 foot shaft of Chomo Lhari, Tibet's most sacred and spectacular mountain.
Lily white Mother of Snows is one translation
of its name. This sight alone was worth all the hardships of time journey to date.
The city of Phari Dzong lay out of sight, perhaps twenty miles further oil. A Tibetan youth suddenly rats toward me and grasped the pony's tail, not to harass or stop him but to hitchikc a tow for himself. This somewhat cruel practice was widespread among those who
wished to accelerate their progress UI) through
the mountains. - That afternoon, we found ourselves emerg-
ing, 14,300 feet above sea level, onto the lofty plain that is the true heartland of Tibet, time
highest country in the world. The Encyclopedia
Britannica claims that its average elevation is
16,000 feet. Arriving at high altitudes on an animal's back removes most sense of effort and struggles; my breathing was almost normal.
I dismounted to photograph a number of women busily collecting discs of yak dung on a hillside. An absence of trees and wood at this heigth, for warmth and cooking, is comupen-sated for by utilizing the dried out bowel movements of animals. One of the damsels, spotting me, let out a banshee shriek. Every girl before me promptly flopped in unison to her knees, head on the ground, rump facing me. One could assume that they looked with dis-favor upon being photographed.
Against a fierce wind at sunset, 1 rode another six miles to the adobe-lined alleys of my destination, Phari Dzong. Not only is it termed the world's highest city but others have crowned it the planet's dirtiest. Mules and livestock roamed freely through the filth-laden alleyways called streets, as I rode slowly past, age-old accumulations of animal droppings lay everywhere. Like mudpies, yak dung was plastered against the walls of homes, drying out or simply being stored. Actually it burns with a not unpleasant odor.
At the mail terminus, I turned over my (concluded on page 16)
August 1981
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A RECORDING OF HISTORY THE WEEKLY CLUI3 MEETINGS (Our Thursday Niii:t Safaris)
AL ADAMS' WORLD OF ADVENTURE
(Program for April 9, 198 1)
(As told by Bill Buchanan)
The members were presented a most unusual and captivating program by our past president Al Adams. It was definitely his world of adventure - for as he said at the outset of his presentation, "only a few people in the world have been to more islands than I have." His pictures and his stories bore that out. His program moved fast, lasted more than two hours and he only covered half of his prepared material. The other half will be shown in September according to our First Vice Presi-dent Dick Kyle. Dick also indicated that Al had set a new audience record.
Two members more had attended his presen-tation to bring the audience number to the largest yet to watch a Thursday night men's evening performance. The previous largest was when Ed liodcn gave his program on his around-the-world adventure on Kittywake. Al thanked the members for the unprecedented turnout to see where some of his 300,000 miles of sailing in the past 53 years had taken him. His world coverage of off-the-beaten paths both by sea, land and air held his audience. His pictures and his experiences would fill many books,
Al started his life of sailing at a very early age On his little raft on a swamp in Colorado a bed sheet his sail.
Looking around the Club Trophy Room, I notice Al has left his mark in many places. His several Expedition Flags, especially the one lie took around the world covering 50,000 miles in two years, the tattered and torn first Adventurers' Club yachting burgec there on the wall, his huge world collection of yacht club burgees of clubs he has personally visited, the 50th Anniversary Flag he encouraged Frank Armitage to design and his prized Cunard Flag which was flown over the Queen Mary from England around Cape Horn to Panama and to Long Beach and was there presented to him as they docked.
He also instigated the photo collection of all Club past presidents, named the President's Room and created the Captain Jack Roulac Memorial to help set up a Building Fund for our Club's future. That amount is now approaching $25,000.00. Al reported that there is renewed enthusiasm to get on the plaque. He would like to see every member's name engraved on the huge Rangoon teak shield, made from the deck of the famous battleship USS INDIANA. As he said, "It is a total member effort, the only such the Club has ever had." At least, he said, "Get your name up there for $25.00 and give generously later when you wish."
Adams' program started with a sincere state-went, "The number one thing in importance in
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my 53 years of sailing the oceans of the world is that, as a result of sailing, I have come to know you fellows of our Adventurers' Club. If it had not been for Henry Kehler noticing me sailing off the Southern California coast, I probably wouldn't be here. He observed that I was pouring a lot of salt water out of my sea boots so he invited me to come to the Club and present a program. I put on two programs and in 1959 was invited to membership," Al said rather apologetically.
"I am going to mention some people, not to be name dropping but because it is interesting to me, as 1 recall some of the people I have come to know through my sailing, racing and instructing. I wish I had time to tell the person-al vignettes of my associations with such people as Lee Marvin, Marlin Mason, Rod Cameron, Henry Mancini, Bill Dana, Gene Hackman, Bill Conrad, Marvin Chomsky, Lee J. Cobb, Dana Andrews, Jeffry Hunter, Steve Cochran, Joe Namath, Julie Andrews, Frank Price, Edgar Bergen, Cliff Robertson, Dick Powell, Nelson Riddle, Leif Erickson, Lloyd Bockner, William Harbach, Humphrey Bogart,
Dina Merrill, the Smothers Bros., Frank Morgan, Spec O'Donnell, Bruce Dern, Walter Cronkite
and Bing Crosby. I was sailing 15 hours a day, 7 days a week
for years, having founded the first sailing school in the U.S. My sailing was first a hobby, then an avocation, then a profession - a sailing master and in conjunction a marine surveyor
for 38 years. Early on, after seeing the ocean for the first
time, with four fraternity brothers, we had an old üu sun's mate build us a sloop. It was real rough for us to earn the $450.00 to pay for it. That price included the sails, a bailing bucket, running lights, and a swab. The world was ours.
That was my start. Sailing has given me the world."
Al continued, "For diversion after my first year of college I hitchhiked 6,000 miles. That way of travelling spurred me to later go around the world in the same fashion. I covered 50,000 miles and in every type of conveyance. And did a lot of walking. I saw a lot of the world in two years."
In the 1930's Al said he stood with his fraternity brothers watching the start of a TransPacific Yacht Race to Honolulu and made a prediction, "I will be on the next one." He learned to race and sailed hard. Two years later he sailed as sailing master on his first
Honolulu Race and has sailed to Hawaii seven times since.
Al showed pictures of violent seas, holes in the ocean, tranquil seas, whirl pools and 40 foot tides. Every picture had a story and to relate every one would take many issues of The Adventurers' Club News. He told of shooting a wild boar at 70' with a bolt action, one shot Sears-Roebuck .22 child's rifle. This occurred on Epi Island in the New Hebrides. To prove his story he brought the wild boar's jaw and tusks. He shot from the hip, a lucky shot, with the boar running full speed. The bullet went between the ribs and through the heart. This was food for the crew on the yacht.
Members may remember Al showed the jaw and tusks and his shrunken South American Indian head on the Mery Griffin Show. He brought a picture of the shrunken head to the club and related the story. He and his wife were on a two year cruise on their 40 foot sailing cutter Southwind. Due to 80 miles an hour winds they put in behind a headland of the Guajira Penninsula in South America and rode to three anchors for ten days.
August 1981
Pige 9
Al got acquainted with the primitive, loin-
clothed, Indians who came out in their dugouts. They brought him bird's eggs and a goat skin filled with brown water with wigglers. He boiled the water for his drinking purposes until he could sail on to Maracaibo to replenish. The Indians invited him to visit their chief and to cross the Guajira Peninsula. He went with them and arrived just in time to witness an Indian being pulled bodily from another man's adobe hut by an irate Indian husband.
An embarrassed wife was running in all directions. The husband, with bow and arrow, killed the intruder, removed his head, made an incision up the back of the head and lopped out the skull. The lips were sewn shut and the incision up the back of the head was closed. Then the flabby sack, less the skull, was boiled for twenty minutes to reduce the oil and water content from the flesh.
Al indicated the boiling was bad for the sheen of the hair. Small, very hot rocks were taken from the open fire and dropped down the open neck as the fleshy bag was held upside down. The searing and hissing of the hot rocks reduced the head to the size of an orange as the character was being molded into the face by hand. It was surprising how the little head later resembled the unfortunate lover. Adams indicated in passing that this man lost his head over it. Because Al was the guest of the tribe the head was presented to him.
From that Al switched to Kotsebue above the Arctic Circle showing us a picture of a marvelous, huge bull walrus skull and beautiful ivory tusks he was able to get a couple of years ago. The tusks are 28" long, a splendid trophy. He saved and mounted the solid bone oosik which is 18Y2" long. The oosik is nature's aid, for it is the animal's eveready penis which enables him in the very cold water and on the
ice (lows to have relations at the drop oi ice cube. Al explained this with great fue ling and concern.
Russ Robinson, No. 623, is a scriinshainder. He and Al made a deal over the oosik. If Al would drive over to Tucson and deliver a lecture to a Tucson Sailing Chub, Russ would carve beautiful arctic scenes on the bone oosik. Al held the oosik up for the members to see the beautiful carved scriinshaisding so well done
by Robinson. ''Russ," Al said, "is an artist with an oosik."
In his presentation Al showed scenes of himself sailing in a walrus skin boat on the Bering Sea, panning for gold, eating Mtnktuk (whale steak prepared by his Eskimo hostess), scenes of the Aurora Borealis and a closeup of one of the largest and finest pieces of jade ever quarried, and purchased by Juan Peron of Argentina. Peron paid 860,000.00 for it but then went into exile. His jade was never delivered. It was left lying in an open field in Eskimo country.
Al had a most shaking experience in the jungles of New Guinea, The Australians at a mission station warned him it would happen. He hacked his way 80 miles into the back country, for as he told the missionaries, "I want to go so far into the interior that if I find people they would never have seen a white man before." He found hundreds of such people. Some were cannibals and they felt his flesh, fingered his hair and, as he said, crowded tight around him in the hot sun. They tested him. The missionaries told Al in advance that people had set out to do just what Inc wanted to do and had never come out. Al took the chance and when he was nearly in the fire lie showed no fear and began feeling their flesh, smelly as it was from a life of no bathing and fineered their hair, caked as it was in filtli and
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working with lice. His strategy worked. When he began laughing, they laughed with him and they instantly became brothers. The men took his hands in theirs but their women were more demonstrative - they all shook him with a great show of feeling below the belt. "That," he said, "was a shaking experience. After 40 women of all ages greeted me I was all shook up." And he had pictures to prove it; Really shook
Al came across the Pig People of New Guinea, so called because pigs are their currency. He showed a picture of a wife that could be purchased by a native for eight pigs, a real good wife. Then he showed many one, two and three pig wives that were no-nos. "They don't get better with time, either," he said.
While Al spent time in a remote area of the Sepik River, which he travelled to by a dugout, his host who lived in a grass hut up on stilts, gave him a very large and heavy wood carving of a jungle man. Al could not accept it as he had no way to carry it out to civilization. The man was really hurt because it was the most valuable thing he could give. Al said, "Most of the full torso Sepik carvings feature the penis, as it is sacred - as it should be."
In New Britain he told of some of the most remote primitive people in the world today. They took him back 2,000 years in time. Naked, pig tusks through their nostrils, they would have another native break a clam shell and with the very sharp broken pieces cut designs in the skin and flesh of their backs and arms. Bleeding profusely they would roll in mud to enlarge the scars when healed. For five days the cut person would lie in the mud. If he didn't die from infection then he was qualified to sit before the village high chief in the big Tainbarin council meetings. Al's pictures show-cd this preparation.
Adams' unbelieveable pictures showed the native women breast feeding pigs. if a sow dies, leaving its young, the women suckle the young pigs. Pigs mean a great deal to these people as food and currency. Great harm and infection results to the women's breasts as his pictures revealed.
While moving through a jungle area he came upon a weird sight. An elderly black woman had died. She was emaciated. A young girl, a grand-daughter, was sitting outside a grass hut in the hot sun rocking the dead one. Hour after hour for five days the members of the family traded off rocking the body, for they believe it takes that long for the soul to depart from the body. The odor was sickening.
Al reminded us how lucky the ladies are in Hollywood if they get caught playing extra-marital games. They get their picture in the Enquirer make a lot of money and start over. In Guajira country the man gets his head shrunk and the woman is excommunicated from the village while in New Britain, near New Guinea, the man is killed, his legs are removed and the girl friend is obliged to wear his legs around her neck until the flesh drops off. So fellows, think twice or three times when you are out of town.
While on this remote island Al witnessed the Fertility Dance. As he said, the dance was spectacular in the black night as the men danced bare foot in the blazing fires. But the preparation is what intrigued Adams. His pictures showed this detail. In order to carry the fertility costume, which is like a huge bird, the thong G-string support which houses the penis has to pass through the flesh in the man's back. His picture showed the man lying face down while his assistants forced a sharpened stick in and back of his back and then passed a tough vine in the apertures. This vine also
August 1981 Page Ii
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ADVENTURERS' CLUB NEWS
5111)1)orts a huge white ornament 3 feet long
like a giant bird's tail feathers. This unit is
attached to a stick and that stick is inserted in the man's rectum. Tile vine and the anchoring method holds the tail feathers up. The fast and violent dance makes sense - especially with that stick spurring him on.
Al took the audience to many remote islands of the world, to Bali, to Djkarta and to India showing its poverty and told of a little boy whose destitute parents had cut off his eyelids so he could beg on the streets, and maybe survive. Al described his eyes. It was unbelieve-able. He showed a boy whose arms and legs had been broken and never set, leaving him to live, dragging his body on the ground - to beg.
Al skippered a 104' schooner, the Dwyn Wen. He delivered it from Newport to Lake Union at Seattle. He delivered the 83' schooner owned by Harold Vanderbilt from Connecticut to the West Coast through a 130 mile an hour hurricane. His business card read "Deliver Yachts Anywhere." That gave him great experience and lots of sea miles.
He told of his two years as captain of the 2'/2 million dollar yacht Enchantress, a fine schooner of 136' on deck and 150' overall. She was a luxury yacht with 10 paid hands and a Filipino chef. The picture of this yacht showed Al at the helm with megaphone calling orders to his crew on the foredeck. This is an era in yachting that may never return, for to own such a yacht at today's prices would be prohibitive. Al is grateful for the opportunity he had to command such a fine yacht - an ilSStItUtiOfl.
He told of owning eight sail boats and he skippered for Bill Conrad for three years. Many club members sailed with Al on Bill's Moon-raker. He mentioned taking Bing Crosby on his first sail and enjoyed exchanging pipe
tobacco with a great man. Al showed detailed pictures of his sailing yacht Boundless built in Holland, a fine cutter.
Space is not available to write of the complete program but suffice to say we had a fascinating insight into Al Adam's World of Adventure.
Space available, more of this presentation may be carried in a later issue. Vice President Dick Kyle presented Al with a Certificate of Appreciation signed by himself and President George Manchester. The certificate read "Grate-ful appreciation to Al A. Adams for the interest-ing, informative and entertaining program thus furthering the objective of promoting the ex-change and dissemination of knowledge between those who have had adventures off the beaten path." (Reported by Bill Buchanan)
Favored Clubs Our Club exchanges visitor courtesies with
six select clubs. In order that our members may learn something about these other clubs this series will provide a brief history of each
club.
Adventurers' Club of New York
This club owes its beginnings to Arthur
Sullivant Hoffman. He was the Editor of
Adventure Magazine in 1912 when he decided to gather his writers together to form a club. The club was loosely organized at first but on December 7, 1912, thirty-four of them gathered in Mouquin's (Joel's) Restaurant and formally created a new club. They agreed on a name, elected officers and planned a Constitution and By Laws. From that beginning mushroomed the great New York club that exists today. Their address is on our mailing list.
August 1981 Page 13
THE 1985 ROSTER
In preparation for the 1985 Roster, we wish to improve the quality of the publication, particularly in the photographs of the members.
The following members have no photograph in our files. We urge you to send a good quality 2 x 2 black and white (similar to a passport photo) to the club office right away.
Aylward, Wm., E., Cmdr. Bryer, Robert Byrd Green, Leland W. Holmes, William D. LaBerge, Arthur R. Petzak, Rodney R.
The following member's photographs really need replacing with a better picture.
Barker, F. Wayne Bruce, James S. Burlingame, Robert M. Cooley, Stanley F. DeMara, Fred W. Dewey, Donald Alvin Janes, Loren Siebert, Alan H. Silver, Robert H.I. Thureau, Rudi Williams, Robert C.
The following member's photographs are of such poor quality that they reflect unfavorably on the member. Will each of you furnish the Roster Committee with a new photo.
Clements, James F. Drinkwine, Paul E. Elrod, Calvin Roger Frederickson, Ray G. Kendall, Thomas G. McCartney, Richard A.
llOWAltl) GEE WIit(S-
I was pleasantly surprised to find a picture of the yacht Enchantress on the cover of the Adventurers' Club News. I sailed on the Enchantress in 1932 for the summer and had a wonderful time.
I had a number of pictures of the 136'
schooner but have lost theni in all ofour moving. Now ]'in wondering if you could get almold of the picture that was used to make the cover picture and get a copy mna4.le for Inc. I'll sure reimburse you for any cost involved.
Now just a word on our activity up here. We arc really enjoying time Northwest and especially living on this little island of Vashomm. We haven't given up sailing but seem to be on friends boats. We fly to Alaska next week to sail in S.E. Alaska with friends amid then will spend 10 days in British Columbia in July on another boat.
I've sure enjoyed the News amid do miss the club meetings. I'd like to get to them more often than I do.
Best regards to all. Fondly,
Howard Gee
(We're working on it, Howard. Ed.)
Ruess, Waldo Tiemaun, Boots
This list was compiled from the 1980 Roster. If your name is on the list please send a new picture to the committee. Your cooperation will be much appreciated, thank you.
Page 14
ADVENTURERS' CLUB NEWS
PERCY CHASE Euglogy
by Al A. Adams
Each of us have golden opinions of esteem for Percy Chase, His passing is a great loss, yet how fortunate we are to have had association with him. Our paths have converged with a great, kind and helpful person. He was profi-cient in so many endeavors. Throughout his busy youth, during his period of education and into his professional career he was successful. He approached his many problems and grew tall in overcoming them.
His greatest ascendancy was in being a man—a man that his family, and we, as friends, admired. With all of his accomplishments he was a geologist, a business man, an explorer, an author and a musician. He gained prestige as an adventurer doing the unusual, making his presence known around the world. He shared his experiences freely that others could relate to his encounters.
Interconnected were his interests that he correlated with geology. He became a flash powder photographer and singed a few of his subjer He was a freight clerk for the Santa Fe Railway, an amateur musician, playing the cello, and with his sister Sybil, a professional violinist. They played background music for the silent movies and played in vaudeville. He played tennis and golf and loved sailing.
It is interesting that Percy Chase, with his desires and drive, rode the rails, intent as he
was to explore the West. Nothing was to stop him. His life reflects that drive. He loved the outdoors and the out-of-doors became his world. It was on a Sierra Club hike that he met Hazel who became his wife.
Early in his life he realized that an interest in minerals prevailed. That inquisitiveness prevailed as a hobby, then to an avocation, to finally become his profession. His interest in minerals grew and through the railway he made contact early with the new chemical industry developing in the West. He joined the Medford Chemical company and became its general manager. He consumated the company's sale to McKesson and Robbins thus helping to establish one of the major chemical distribution companies.
Percy had especial talent in the elemental metal mercury. He travelled around the world seeking out mercury mines. He wrote a lengthy manuscript on this mineral. Mr. Chase worked hard in his early days for his father passed away leaving him to support his mother, sister and two brothers, Ted and Bill.
Keith Chase was Percy's only offspring. That Father-Son association was exceptionally close and was admirable to observe.
Proof of his stature came in 1957 when his fellows elected him President of The Adventur-ers' Club of Los Angeles, a highly prestigious position.
We pay tribute to a man who has helped all of us. A man in whom we have high esteem and we appreciate.
As Leo Marks, a fellow adventurer of 48 years said, "Percy was a man of high principals - lie disliked pretense."
Adventurer Henry Kehler recalls that Percy enjoyed organizing nature and mineral field-trip projects for school children. As Mr. Kehler
August 1981
Page 15
said, "I-Ic was orderly in his work, conservative in his ways in business and in politics - alit' Was proud of it."
John Boden, a great man of The Adventurers' Club paid tribute to Percy when he said of him, "He was a real gentleman to whom we always listened and looked to with respect."
Percy was an adventurer to the last. At 80 years of age he had his ticket in his pocket for
yet another extended venture out into his
world. That ticket was there when lie passed away. His last evening out was to the Adven- turers' Club where he gave in address and where he broke bread with his own rare types.
Kahil Gibran expressed Percy's message to
all of its when he said, "Brief were my days
among you, and briefer still the words I
have spoken. But should my voice fade
in your cars, and my love vanish in your
memory, then I will conic again, and with
a richer heart anti lips more yielding to
the spirit will I speak.
Yes, 1 shall return with the tide, and
though death may hide me, and lime
greater silence enfold me, yet again will 1
seek your understanding.
And naught in vain will I seek. if aught I have said is truth, that truth shall
reveal itself in a clearer voice and in words more kin to your thoughts." Percy's soul will continue to unfold itself
like a lotus of countless petals. He truly gave, for he gave of himself. In the twenty-four years that I have known him his words and his handshake were always kindly, encouraging and valuable.
Now, today, we are here to reach out to the man and in touching send a silent prayer to accompany his spirit.
Godward, Percy Chase.
A RECORDING OF HISTORY FOR
May 14, 1981
ON SAFARI AROUND 706
with BILL BUCI IANAN
Dr. l"RU) I)IiMARA, "Flie Great I mnposfer returned to the ciumti after a long absence, intact and in good spirits. Loss of his leg seemed
im in imiem it, but with his ii run determination amid
the helj, of Dr. JliRRY NU..SSON his leg was
saved. With tender loving care (lie Nilsson family has in the past nine weeks brought Fred I)eMara back on the road to health. We all welcome you back, Fred.
JOHN PARKER has returned from a sailing trip of eleven days in the British Virgin Islands where lie spent much enjoyable time diving.
JOHN DAVIDSON was presented with his Adventurers' Club flag by President GEORGE
MANCHESTER. This flag was used by John in 1954 and subsequent trips to Australia, Africa, East India, New Zealand and various islands and will go with him again on the Great Lion
Collecting Safari during which John hopes to bring back a black-maned lion. In celebration of John's 92nd birthday a large cake decorated with a lion was served by our caterers.
CHET WILCZEK and ROY ROBERTS re-
port that they are enchanted with the V.I.P. treatment they are receiving in mainland China. Americans are welcomed and given many oppor-tunities to see various phases of Chinese life. For a change they are both taking 351m
(The program for May 14, 1981 is Lt. Gel.
Don Taylor's report on his solo flight from
Oshkosh, Wisconsin to Melbourne, Australia
and will be carried in our September issue. Ed.)
Page 16
ADVENTURERS' CLUB NEWS
cameras as they were not allowed to bring their 16mm movie cameras.
Dr. ED CHATWELL reports on JOHN ZtJM-STEIN's accident on an icy road. During last duck season he was speeding to meet some of his buddies when, at a sharp curve, his car flipped over three times and landed 75 feet below with the car upside down on a big boulder, narrowly missing being bounced into a lake 50 feet below. John escaped without a scratch. The car is a complete wreck. And lie has good pictures to prove this unusual adven-ture.
CHARLES BRISCO, No. 663, who recently left the club for The Great Adventure, remem-bered the club with his slide collection. Tonight President George Manchester announced that the estate had presented the club with two of Charlie's 16mm films, one on Fiji and the other on New Zealand.
KEITH YOUNG urged all members to sign up for the tour of the state water project and water facilities in the Delta area. This will be a fun trip as well as educational and it is important that you send your reservation in to Chet Wilczek or see him at a meeting without delay.
George Manchester encourages all members to contribute to the Building Fund, or to add to your previous contributions, AL ADAMS has enlarged the shield and there are many places just waiting to be filled with a brass plate carrying your name. If you can't attend the meetings, just mail your check (payable to The Adventurers' Club) to Al Adams. Our aim is 100% participation by the membership.
THOMAS LINDHOLM reports that he is planning to enter the world's first single-handed sailing race around the world. He has formerly participated in the first single-handed race to
Hawaii. Meantime he and his wife are sailing their 41' sloop down the West Coast of Mexico and have now reached Costa Rica. After a brief time out they will sail on to Panama, Florida and the Eastern Seaboard.
DICK KYLE took part in the Death Valley to Mount Whitney Bike Challenge. Fifty people climbed 13,000 feet over a hundred mile course. He drank 2 quarts of water before he started and 6 during the trip. The race lasted two days ending at Whitney Portal. Dick won $50 for second place winner in time age category.
(TIBET . . . continued from page 6)
trusty pony to a dirt-smeared groom, gave it an affectionate farewell patting and then limped through the darkness over to Phari's dak bungalow. My porters had gone directly there.
The following morning opened up a busy day. After a good night's rest I was ready, accompanied by Ang Bao, to visit three monas-teries near the town. Had the lamas any information about Jesus of Nazareth's sojourn in their land nearly 2,000 years ago? On our way, we paused to climb a ten foot ladder upstairs into a Tibetan home whose owner would sell me a leather mule collar. Around it were fastened, with rawhide, fourteen crudely cast, but exotically marked, bells.
"This bell collar old; not strong," remarked Ang Bao, diapprovingly.
"But it won't break when I wear it," I answered, draping it over my shoulder, Hawaiian lei style.
"You wear mule's collar?" exclaimed my sirdar, disbelievingly. Then he smiled, "I understand. You want porters know where you are."
I bought the set. The horrendous odors
August 1981
Page 17
impregnating that harness after years of com-munion with animal sweat, crossing the Tibetan plateau, didn't become apparent until months later at home.
"Get that horrible thing out of this house at once," wailed my wife, her olfactory senses under deadly siege. "Who would appreciate my prize and not be put off by the smell?" I asked myself. Thus, if you visit the Adventurers' Club of Chicago club rooms, on Michigan Avenue, today, you will see that Tibetan mule collar on proud display with the organization's rarest Pieces, locked inside a glass case. I did remove a few of the small bells from its circumference, to keep as a personal reminder. The closed case withholds any stink that otherwise might interfere with the gastronomic delights of the diners sitting nearby.
My leg pain was readily bearable on the reasonably level Phari plateau as we hiked onward to the first of the monasteries. I recalled how a Russian traveler, Dr. Nicolas Notovich, had claimed to have been thrown from his horse breaking his leg near the 1-lemnis monastery at Leli in the province of Ladakh, a tiny state nudging Tibet. While lamas nursed him back to health he studied yellowed inanu- scripts in their library. He came upon an ancient account of a religious outsider named Issa who had visited and studied in that very monastery nearly two millenia earlier. The Mosle in word for "Jesus" is "Issa."
This holy figure had traveled about India and Tibet for fourteen years, taught principles of living that parallel the Judeo-Christian say-ings attributed to Jesus, and then disappeared over the western horizon at about the age of twenty-eight. Thus wrote Notovich in his volume The Unknown Life of Jesus Christ.
On the roof of the first monastery rotated
a number of colorful cloth-draped prayer cyl-inders ceaselessly grinding out imprecations to the gods on high with each revolution of the barrel. After a five minute wait in the court-yard outside, a maroon-robed Jams escorted Ang Rao and me into the presence of the High Lama. In a low-ceiled room, he was seated, lotus-style, on an ornately decorated gold and red dais. His face was bony and frozen tensely as though too much chang had been consumed the previous evening.
Aug Bao's inability to translate properly the somewhat technical vocabulary necessary to inquire probingly about the existence of an "Issa" still did not prevent my reaching the conclusion that this scholar had never heard of such a personage.
That afternoon we visited two other monas-teries lying beyond Phari Dzong and approach- ing Tang la, where the trail bifurcates, one branch winding onward to Lhasa, the other turning westward to Mount Everest. A grinning lama cradling a monkey in his arms greeted us at the entrance to the first monastery. Nothing was learned here that had not emerged during the morning. We pressed on another two miles to the Ok monastery, the largest in the shadow of mighty Choino Lhari, the mountain that loomed over us night and day. hales of hay were piled atop the roof of the dilapidated building ahead.
Five enormous mastiffs belonging to the lamas shot toward us, teeth bared and snarling. We stopped dead. Fortunately, a heavyweight monk roared around the corner, cursing the dogs for their lack of hospitality and driving them off by clouting the snout of the ringleader with a jangling bunch of keys.
Several noted lamas had once taught within these sorry precincts. Poor leadership had led
Page 18
ADVENTURERS' CLUB NEWS
to neglect of the premises and drift in human dedication. The lamas' quarters were a series of squalid cells extending in a grim line behind the main building. The two leading scholars here, summoned from their manuscripts, had never heard the legend of Issa. Both had spent time in other lamaseries scattered about the
land. Their knowledge of Tibetan literature extended beyond the confines of the Phari area.
Years later, J urged Associate Justice of the U.S. Supreme Court, Dr. William 0. Douglas, to investigate the Issa legend during a junket that he wrote me lie was planning into Ladakh. He did. On page 152 of his subsequent book Beyond the High Himalayas (Doubleday & Co., Inc., Garden City, N.Y1952), alter briefly paraphrasing a description of the Issa story taken from my OWl) book Fabulous Destina-tions, he calls it, as I do, "all apocryphal talc''.
Another friend, upon visiting the 1-lemnis monastery was informed that there was no record or memory of Notovich or anyone else breaking a leg and being taken in as a guest until recovered. In fact, they had uicvcr heard of this Issa, nor were there any manuscripts in the library recounting the life and teachings of such a visitor.
About 4:15 p.m., Ang Bao and I paused, oil our way back from the last lamasery to Pliari Dzong, to photograph magnificent Chomo Lhari, glowing in the setting sun. Cries emneuma tilug from time nearby squat tent of a yak herdsman's family prompted me to investigate. Could we help someone in distress? in time gloomy interior I could make out the forms of two men bending over a moaning woman. Embarrassed I withdrew. A baby Tibetan was making its debut into the world.
Suddenly, as we began to photograph the peak, celestial chimes, crystal clear, seemed to echo fro,ii the heart of the holy tilOtilitaill.
At intervals of a few seconds they continued, vibrating tones I had never heard before. My flesh crept at the sounds. No monastery could exist upon those vertical, snow-streaked flanks. Was this an example of the supernaturalism for which the forbidden land was renowned?
As I reflected upon the incredible phenome-non, limping back toward our rapidly darkening, windswept village (in actual size), a rational explanation presented itself. A monastery,
unknown to me, was probably located in one of the mountain valleys. Ang Bao and I were standing at precisely the right point to hear the strange notes of a temple instrument striking the mountain cliffs and bouncing onward to our ears. Bounced echoes are familiar to travelers in the Swiss Alps.
Alter paying my debts in Phari Dzong, the next morning, preparatory to starting back toward Sikkim and India, I was dumbfounded to discover that I had but seven rupees left. All the artifacts that I had collected in the countryside, including those that rest today in the modest John Nicholls Booth Tibetan Collec-tion in time Los Angeles County Museum of Natural History, had taxed my trekking resour-ces more than I realized. I have been in many odd situations but none more vexatious than to be hobbling around in Tibet, of all places, with a bad leg, four Sherpa porters in my employ and no transportation out of the country, with the equivalent of $2.20 in my pocket.
Eighteen miles of painful limping began against an endless wind and clouds of driving dust. As we left the tableland and started to sink down into the canyon leading to Yatung in the Chumbi Valley, thirty miles away, I turned for one last look at the most dramatically lovely peak of my lifetime. Had anyone ever climbed those near-vertical sides, up through those perilous snow fields and ice cravasses, I -
August 1981
Page 19
wondered, to stand astride the summit of Chomo Lhari? Those 23,997 feet of sacred mountain could be pure hell to ascend.
Three months later, in London, I fell into conversation at the bar of the Savage Club, over noon-time martinis, with a taciturn young English army officer. He mentioned knowing the Himalayas to some extent and was particu-larly interested in my experiences at Chomo Lhari. I noted the name on his business card, pocketed it and never saw the man again. The following year, I picked up a. prized volume describing the amazing ascent, the only one in history, of Chomo Lhari by a Colonel F. Spencer Chapman in 1937. His support party had consisted of only a handful of porters and one companion who became incapacitated. Probably no successful climb of a major Himal-ayan peak has ever been accomplished at such minimum financial expense and with so small a party. Naturally, I was absorbed by the account and wished I might meet the climber some day.
Just a few years ago, I was rummaging through old papers. I came upon the business card of my fleeting acquaintance met in the Savage Club bar that January 1949 afternoon. I read the name printed on it with disbelief. Unknowingly, I had been talking to the one man in mountaineering annals who seemingly has ever scaled the heights of Chomo Lhari-Colonel Chapman himself!
In Gautsa, the chokidar of the dak bungalow insisted that I sign a mimeographed document in English with the words OATH OF SECRECY printed across the top. Neither in this account nor in any other that I have written, have I ever violated the silence asked of me on certain points. I can disclose that the Tibetans have no Hydrogen bombs, pills for immortality or clues
to winning in the stock market. A mistaken notion of the importance or rarity of certain economic, geographical and cultural features of the nation, caused by generations of isolation from time outside world, were responsible for the melodramatic document presented for my signature.
Limping in virtual agony, accompanied by my solicitous Sherpas, I managed the last twelve miles into Yatung. With one rupee left in lily pocket I sheepishly approached the quarters of the Indian trade agent. It was Tscring's chit to time pony keeper in Cautsa, on my way through, that had produced the animal I had ridden days earlier. Now he was to demonstrate an act of laidi antI kindness rare in today's world.
Tscring arranged with time headman of the village to release one inti1e for inc to ride to Gangtok and a young Tibetan to accompany us as muleteer. hi. addition, he lent inc one hundred silver rupees, saying only, "Just send Inc time money when you reach Darjeeling."
"What can I offer you as security?" I asked, overcome by this rescue. "None is necessary," lie responded quietly. That is how I found real magic in the Chimmbi Valley of Tibet. Shangri la exists.
After a good night's rest, we departed, calling on the chief of the frontier guard post enroute. After several cups of yak-butter tea, he invited me to remain in the fort "two or three days to see how I live." I declined gratefully.
Late the following day, my five companions, with myself on mule back, crossed Nathu la in a raging blizzard. Whipped by polar winds and driven snow, we inched breathlessly over that awesome saddle in the mountains. Perhaps by only a matter of hours we had saved ourselves
Page 20
ADVENTURERS' CLUB NEWS
from being hopelessly snowed in for some days. In spite of a roaring fire in the early evening
at Lake Chauggu, a glass of water beside me was frozen solid the next morning. The leather in my boots had changed to cast non. After lengthy pounding over the cooking fire a porter softened them sufficiently for me to put them on.
The days passed, Gangtok was entered and the mule left us with its keeper. The dak bungalow was filled but a stateless White Russian took me in for the night. Returning from the palace of the Maharajah of Sikkim, where he served as electrician, he reported:
"In two days His Highness will celebrate his birthday. It will be a majestic occasion - parades, feasting, pageants, rich gifts. The Maharajah has heard of your trek and would like you to stay for the ceremonies as his guest."
"Please express my gratitude to His Highness for the invitation," I answered, "but I must get on to Darjeeling."
The Sikkimese government short wave wire-less operator worked in a room across the hall. lie was kind enough to try and reach some ham operator in the United States who might phone my home, charges reversed.
"What message should he give your family?" the government employee asked.
"Just ask him to say that he has had a wire-less message from northern India stating that a bearded man with a pulled tendon, inflamed kg muscles, foot blisters, ficabites, sunburn, swollen and chapped hands, whose name is Booth, has just trekked in from India, feeling as fit as a fiddle?"
At six the next morning, I piled my four Shicrpas, their loads and myself into a Sikkim nail truck. Four hours later we dismounted by
the Tista river bridge. After several days on mule-back my injured leg felt reasonably strong. in the daylight hours left we planned to attempt a double march, up through the steep Himalayan foothills, twenty-one miles into Darjeeling. The porters didn't mind—a double march in one day always brought two days pay.
At eight that evening, limping slightly, Ang Eao and I rounded a rocky protuberance to see Kanchenjunga rising before us, magnificent and overpowering. Darjeeling was almost reached. From here a rail of steel led to the outside world. We halted, spellbound, before this inspired picture of the third highest mountain on earth standing against the night sky in all its ghostly beauty a bastion for the remote Tibet out of which we had come, a backdrop for the teeming India to which we were returning.
One of the most memorable experiences of
my life was nearing an end. It was a moment of both sadness and elation.
* * * *
Suggested Reading. Bell, Sir Charles, Tibet: Past and Present,
Oxford: The Clarendon Press, 1924. Booth, John Nicholls, Fabulous Destinations,
New York: The Macmillan Company, 1950. This Travel Book club selection covers the Tibetan trek in greater detail in chapters 20 through 23.
Chapman, F. Spencer, From Helvellyn to Him-alaya, London: The Travel Book Club, 1941.
Harrer, Heinrich, My Seven Years in Tibet, New York: E. P. Dutton, 1953.
Notovich, Nicolas, The Unknown Life of Jesus Christ, Chicago: Indo-Amnerican Book Com-pany, 1894.
Thomas Jr., Lowell, Out of this World, New York: The Greystone Press, 1950.
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