Virgin Kanchenjunga

Woolen robed lamas in a Buddhist monastery, high up in the treacherous denies of the Himalayas, turned their prayer wheels, eyed their pudgy Buddha nervously to see what the god might think of ''Sumy Side Up," Hollywood foxtrot, which a small phonograph was grinding out. Noting no sign of displeasure, the senior priest despatched his wife for a jug of home brewed marwa, thus repaid a strange "professor" from Germany for a new musical experience.

The "professor" was Guenther 0. Dyhrenfurth, who teaches geology at Zurich, but now leads a mountain climbing party which will soon assault Kanchenjunga. Himalayan peak never scaled by man. The monastery (itself three weeks by trek from the nearest white men at Darjeeling, India) was their last stop ping point before establishing their camp on Kanchenjunga's base, some three miles above sea level.

Making the most of the last night there, many a party member was troubled, following morning, with a heavy head, as he helped load supplies on 50 mules, 300 porters.

The Party. Probably the best climb ing party in history is this which includes ace climbers from Germany, Switzerland, Austria, Great Britain, Italy.

Herr Dyhrenfurth's own climbing career began when he was nine and boasts over 700 Alpine peaks, with only one serious accident. (Nine years ago a rope broke, allowed him to plunge 21 feet.)

Less experienced is Frau Dyhrenfurth. whose good looks are only excelled by her tennis. In charge of supplies, she has in her train caviar, Swedish bread, 500 bottles of Munich beer, champagne, whiskey, brandy, a phonograph, 50,000 feet of motion picture film, three cameras, a dark room tent, a typewriter, face cream, a ton of Swiss chocolate.

Kanchenjunga. For their peak, one of the giant pickets in the fence which separates India from Tibet, the party claims an altitude of 28,150 ft. They rank it next to Everest, world's undisputed highest. In this they differ with the Royal Geographical Society, which ranks K2 (Godwin-Austen)' second with its 28,250 ft., Kanchenjunga third. To negotiate this frigid, wind-beaten giant they will establish six camps spaced along the peak's last 10,000 ft. Husky Sherpas porters will strap 68 Ib. packs on their broad shoulders, grease their faces to ward off the erosive wind, fight their way upward through the rare air a few feet at a time over the ice steps cut for them.

When Camp Six is finally dug into the ice about 1,000 feet below the crest, the leaders will ready themselves. Forcing as much light nourishment as they can, they will make their dash to the treacherous top. As they climb, a few feet at a time, they will be sure that their tandem ropes are tight, that their footing is sure. They are all aware that Kanchenjunga has taken five lives, is willing to take as many more.

Finances. Mountain climbers are mostly poor, could never finance such a party as this. To offset the cost a careful business management has lost sight of no possible source of revenue. Newspaper rights have been sold in practically every country in Europe. From high up on Kanchenjunga's precipitous sides Frank S. Smythe, news correspondent, taps out his story with numbed fingers on a portable typewriter. When it is finished, trained runners skittle down the mountanside with it, hand it to relay runners who require two weeks to reach Darjeeling, India. Thence it goes to Calcutta by telegraph, London by cable, Manhattan by wireless. The New York Times, owner of American rights, then relays it to nine other U. S. newspapers, thus completing a slow and circuitous route around the globe.

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