The Cine Technician (1953-1956)

144 THE CINE-TECHNICIAN November, 1953 CAMERAMAN on Everest TOM STOBART, who photographed "Conquest of Everest" tells his own story, exclusively for CINE I DO not think I should have had any hope of shooting a reasonable film on Everest if I had not been on a previous expedition to the Himalayas. In 1946 I was a climbing member of an expedition that attempted the 23,500-ft. mountain Nun Kun in the Western Himalyas, which was, by the way, first climbed this year. On Nun Kun I had also tried to take a film, and had made every conceivable mistake, even to getting some of my film spoiled by water during the trip back. Nun Kun not only gave me ideas for coping with Everest, but also gave me an old score to be wiped off, and anything that will make you pull your socks up when the altitude has got them down is of great assistance on Everest. There is no question at all, that any technical difficulties one may have filming an Everest Expedition are insignificant beside the sheer physical misery of working with a fast-moving expedition at high altitudes. The technical data of filming at high altitudes may be interesting — although it is much as one might expect — but the vital factors in getting a film are habit, which enables one to work without thought when completely exhausted, and a host of technical wrinkles which make life easier, and so have a value out of all proportion to their value on an ordinary job. Anyone who took on Everest as an ordinary job would be out of his senses, because it is only a firm conviction that it is worthwhile to climb Everest, that can keep one going when every commonsense instinct tells one to go back or sit down. Let me give two examples. On the march-in it was very hot and tiring. About the only time when a slow-moving cinematographer could be sure of catching up with the whole expedition together was during a halt for tea, so it often meant filming other people at tea, and not resting until the job had been done, although a cup of tea and a rest were the only things in the world that mattered. On the mountain frequent rests were necessary due to the altitude. As the wretched cinematographer I often had to spend these rests setting up my equipment, and when I had filmed the party moving off again, had to pack up and try to catch up. It was a very lonely and heart-breaking job. It meant being able to look after myself on the mountain and long weary hours when I had been left behind with no living thing but a companion Sherpa in the wilderness of ice. From the directorial point of view things on Everest were not rosy either. Not only was there no script, but I had to try to guess ahead what was going to happen. I never had any idea who the " stars " were going to be, and I had to try to cover everyone and everything. There was no possibility of re-staging anything — in fact I had to try to do my work as unseen and unheard as possible. Even delaying a start for a moment to set up the cameras, was something liable to cause annoyance to overstrained men, and if I had become too unpopular there would certainly have been no film. I was also compelled to gather the scraps of tent space, and Sherpa assistance, left over from the main purpose of the expedition. I am not trying to squawk about this. Nobody could have been more anxious for the expedition's success than I was — but I had to fight hard and amicably for my own small corner, and my own private objective. I was not essential to the plan. Add to this the worry of having a complete production on your head with no assistance, and no rushes till you get home, and you can perhaps imagine the rest. ON Everest any mistake or omission you made in the planning comes back at you hard and there is no second chance to put things right. I chose 16mm. Bell and Howell Filmo cameras as my main tool not only because I had been using them for the past two years on big game in Africa and could operate them blindfold, but because experience on other expeditions had shown me that above all cameras they will stand up to very rough handling without damage. Other cameras may have refinements, but I have dropped a Filmo down a 150-ft. ice cliff and picked it up undamaged for the next shot. In addition I took four small amateur B. & H. magazine loading cameras, because I had been very impressed with the results obtained with one of these small cameras used by a colleague in the Antarctic, and I wanted something that could be used by the climbers, if possible, right to the top. A word on the preparation of cameras for expeditions. Preparation for operation in cold is now a well-known matter. All oil and grease has to be removed, and non-freeze oil substituted. Also any well-fitting bearings have to be reamed out to allow for contraction and in this treatment one must not forget the lenses. Since no work can be done on the spot all cameras must be thoroughly tested, and tested for cold in a cold chamber. The Everest cameras were tried at the R.A.F., Farnborough, and the first check disclosed faults at — 45° C, the theoretical temperature at 30,000 feet. The faults on the Filmo cameras were put right, but the working of the magazine cameras, in spite of special waxing of the film edges, was doubtful at these very low temperatures. Since ease of operation was of the greatest importance if I were to persuade tired climbers to use them, I had the metal parts covered with leather, and long triggers attached, so that the cameras could be operated in gloves. Tripods were a problem. At very high altitudes their use would obviously be impossible, and the best that could be done was resting on a stone or ice-axe head. For steep and difficult places I had a special device made which suspended the camera from the pick of my ice-axe, but for the bulk of the work I wanted a light tripod. Quite apart from the fact that hand-held shots are to be avoided if possible, it becomes very difficult to hold a camera steady when panting hard on a high mountain I