The Barun Valley lies on the west side of Makalu and the project of sending an expedition to it started in 1952, when Erie Shipton, Ed Hillary, George Lowe and I visited it, crossing to it for the first time from Solu Khumbu, and making a quick journey up and down it before returning to England at the end of the Cho Oyu Expedition. After that, Hillary, through the New Zealand Alpine Club, asked permission to take an expedition there in 1954. The view of Makalu from Everest led Hillary, particularly, to believe that there might be a way up Makalu from the west, and a reconnaissance of such a route was one of his ideas in launching this expedition. In the meantime, however, a Californian party had specific permission from the Nepalese to attack Makalu itself, and so our expedition was limited to making a survey of the Barun Valley and to climbing as many other mountains in the neighbourhood as we could. There were ten members of our Expedition: eight from New Zealand, namely Hillary, Harrow, Hardie, Beaven, Todd, Lowe, McFarlane, Wilkins; they very kindly asked two people from this country to join them?Michael Ball, the Expedition doctor, and myself. We are grateful to the New Zealand Alpine Club for this invitation, which kept up the association which we have had over the last four years in Himalayan exploration and climbing. Our Expedition started at Jogbani, a village of Bihar on the borders of India and Nepal, where we met towards the end of March when the ground is ankle deep in dust which rises all around you as you walk. Our first job at Jogbani was to get our loads away on coolies, most of whom were men, but we had women too and a few children. The largest loads always seemed to get on the smallest porters! When all the porters are gone and you have scoured the surrounding jungle for anyone who looks as if he might be able to carry anything, you find yourself as a rule still left with a few leaky tins of kerosene or rather uncomfortable loads of crampons, or else loads that are just heavier than all the rest, but in the end they all get away. On the first few days of our march in through the foothills we followed a wide mule track over the hills, in the general direction of the Arun river, following its left bank. We passed many Nepalese villages on the way, their houses straw-thatched and thickwalled, and remarkably cool inside. After Dhankuta we kept close to the river, only now and then climbing the ridges alongside it, from one of which we had our first view of the snows?Chamlang, a long, level mountain of about 24,000 feet. Brian Wilkins and I tried fishing on this part of the journey and concluded there were no fish in the Arun, but I am told that when Ed Hillary came down later in the season, the villagers were trying to sell lots of fish which had been left high and dry on the