Could Tony Kurtz have been saved? A brief history of the first ascents of the Eiger
"Don't go to the Eiger, daddy, don't go there..."
Epigraph to G. Harrer's story "White Spider"
North Face of the Eiger. The "Wall of Death" or "White Cobra" is perhaps the most infamous wall in Europe. 1800 meters of rocks and ice. The average steepness of the slope is 75°. Along the entire length of the wall there are no places convenient for setting up a bivouac and, in addition, the danger of rockfalls and avalanches is extremely high. And let's add here the fact that the weather on the northern wall can change in a matter of minutes.
There are three famous classical north-facing walls - the Grande Jorasses, the Materhorn and the Eiger. The first, in 1931, was the Materhorn. In 1935 - the wall of the Grand Joras. However, all attempts to pass the Eiger ended in tragedy.
Based on one of these dramatic stories, a feature film was made "Northern Wall", which I was advised in the comments to
The film is good, although there are some kinks. Probably, in feature films, there is no way without them. So I see the director, who, to the question “WTF?!?” tears his shirt, wrings his hands and shouts: “Grotesque! Allegory!! You don’t understand anything about cinema!!!” :) But, I repeat, the film is still good - it made me go online and study the issue in a little more detail ...
A bit of history:
In 1924 and 1932, Swiss guides made two attempts to storm the Eigernorvend, but they managed to climb only the first quarter of the wall, the easiest section:
The summer of 1935 is an attempt to pass the twenty-four-year-old Max Sedlmayer and Karl Mehringer, who was two years older than his partner. However, these guys also failed - a month after the start of the ascent, the German pilot Ernst Udet, flying around the summit, found a human body on the wall. From the plane it was impossible to see who it was. The man stood on a slope covered with snow up to his waist and, according to the pilot, it seemed that he was talking to the wall. This place was called the Bivouac of Death, now it looks something like this:
In the summer of 1936, the Austrians Willy Angerer and Eddie Reiner set up a base camp under the wall:
There they meet two more climbers who wanted to try their luck on the Eiger. They were soldiers of the German mountain rifle troops Anderl Hinterstosser and Toni Kurz. Both were 23 years old, and both had several first ascents of the sixth category:
August 17, 1936 climbers, united, go to the Wall. Going on a new route, they encounter an unexpected obstacle - a sheer, completely smooth rock slab about 30 meters wide. It was not possible to cross it by traverse. However, a solution was found. Hinterstoisser, who was the most skilled climber of the four, reached the ledge above the slab, drove in the hook and snapped the belay. He managed to swing a pendulum to the other side, and gain a foothold there. The rest climbed over, holding Hinterstoisser's belay with their hands. This is one of the key places on the way to the top and is now called the Hinterstoiser traverse:
It was at this point that the climbers made the mistake of removing the rope they were traversing. None of them imagined that they would have to return by the same route, and, of course, none could know that this rope was the only way to get back. Hinterstoiser's traverse reverse side impassable:
After passing the traverse, Willy Angerer, who was third in the bunch, got a small stone in his head. In the 30s of the last century, none of the climbers had protective helmets, the ascent was made in thick knitted hats. After two nights on the wall, it became clear that the wounded Willy Angerer was completely exhausted. It was necessary to go down:
By the time we approached the Hinterstoiser traverse, the weather began to worsen, fog descended on the wall. Hinterstoisser tried to repeat his success: for almost five hours, he non-stop tried to traverse the wet smooth rock 30 meters wide to secure the belay at the other end, but failed every time. Only now did all four realize what a mistake they had made by removing the rope, and thereby cutting off their way back. The climbers had no choice - they had to go straight down a steep slope about 230 meters high, by rappel. If successful, they could reach the cornice below, moving along which, reach the underground adit railway and be saved...
Around 2 pm Andreas Hinterstoisser, who was leading the way, untied the belay that tied him to the others, and began to drive in the last hook. And at that moment an avalanche descended on the climbers. Hinterstoisser was immediately swept into the abyss. The avalanche also tore Tony Kurtz and Willy Angerer off the wall. Hanging on the insurance, the wounded Angerer hit the wall with all his might and died almost immediately. Only Eduard Reiner managed to stay upstairs, but the taut rope pressed him against the wall and crushed his chest. Tony Kurtz was not injured. He was hanging over an abyss. Angerer was below him, Reiner was above him, both are dead...
The railway tunnel, laid inside the mountain, has one window that goes straight to the wall. It was through this technological exit that the railway lineman heard Tony Kurtz's cries for help. A group of mountain guides tried to get through to the climber, but severe bad weather prevented rescue work and the rescuers returned to the tunnel. Tony Kurtz was left alone hanging over the abyss. All night:
Rescuers returned the next day, early in the morning. It's hard to imagine what Tony had to go through in that endless night, but he was still alive. However, the rescuers could not get close to Kurtz. The guides said that if Tony lowered the rope for them, they would give him everything he needed. But Kurtz couldn't do it - he had no rope, no hooks, no carabiners, no hammer. In addition, he lost his gauntlet and his left hand was frostbitten and no longer functional. Kurtz had to climb up to Reiner's body hanging above him, tie up all the ropes he could, and let them down to the rescuers. In the photo, the guides who tried to save Tony Kurtz:
Only after six! hours, the end of the rope appeared with a stone tied to it. Rescuers tied a rope and the necessary equipment, and Kurtz began to choose the load up. At the last moment, it turned out that the 30-meter rope was missing and one of the guides was tying another rope. The exhausted Kurtz starts the descent, but when only a few meters remain until the end, the knot tightly jams in the carbine. The last unexpected obstacle sucked the last remnants of strength. This was the end:
Afterword:
The north face was climbed on July 21-24, 1938 by a German-Austrian group of climbers consisting of Heinrich Harrer, Anderl Heckmayr, Fritz Kasparek and Ludwig Wörg. Heinrich Harrer subsequently wrote the book The White Spider about the first ascent of the north face of the Eiger. And climber Joe Simpson, who miraculously escaped from a similar situation, took documentary"Alluring silence" about these events.
After World War I, European mountaineering changed. The image of a wealthy English gentleman accompanied by several guides was a thing of the past. Germans, Austrians and Italians appeared in the mountains - students, workers, small employees. They had no money for guides and hotels, so they climbed on their own and spent the night in tents and cow pens. But they had a great desire to go through routes that a decade ago were considered outrageous. To do this, they invented new equipment - Hans Prusik invented the Prusik knot, and Hans Dulfer invented the rappel.
However, in 1936 there were no ice drills or ice hammers with ingenious beaks. Even the front teeth on crampons, which allow you to either get by with smaller steps or not cut them at all, were invented by Grivel only three years earlier, and were extremely rare.
What these guys did then, in my opinion, is comparable to the first spacewalk. And no matter how hard they try to attribute them to psychos and suicides, I sincerely believe that it is thanks to such people that humanity is constantly developing and moving forward.
P.S. February 13, 2008 Swiss Ueli Steck reached the summit on the Eiger North Face in 2 hours and 47 minutes. Solo in freestyle, without the use of a safety rope!
Eigerwand - The North Face of the Eiger is perhaps the most infamous wall in Europe. A mile of rock and ice subject to rock and ice falls. It is also famous for sudden and incredibly strong storms. The earliest attempts to pass it ended in tragedy. In 1936, Toni Kurz and three other climbers were forced to retreat due to a terrible storm. Willy Angerer, Edi Rainer and Andreas Hinterstoißer were the first to die, while Kurz continued his descent. The railway tunnel, laid inside the mountain, has one window that goes straight to the wall. With his help, it was decided to save Kurtz. A group of mountain guides planned to traverse the wall, starting from this window. Unfortunately, Kurtz was too high. Despite severe frostbite, Tony was able to free the rope, untangle it and throw off the end of the guides. After they tied their end to his rope, he pulled him towards him. Along the way, it turned out that the length of one rope was not enough and the rescuers had to tie two short ropes together. Kurtz managed to get as close as possible to the rescuers, but the knot stuck in the descender did not allow him to complete the descent and he died.
Hans Schlunegger, Arnold Glatthard and Adolf Rubi: three mountain guides involved in the rescue of Tony Kurtz.
This tragedy formed the basis of one of the chapters of the book The White Spider, written in 1958 by Heinrich Harrer, one of the participants in the first successful passage of the Wall in 1938. In addition to him, Anderl Heckmair, Ludwig Vörg and Fritz Kasparek participated in the ascent.
Publication in a London news publication (August 6th, 1938): Fritz Kasparek on the Hinterstoiser traverse.
Heinrich Harrer (left) and Fritz Kasparek (right) after climbing the Eiger North Face, July 25, 1938, Grindelwald.
Harrer also described one of the later tragedies: in August 1957, two separate groups made another attempt to climb - the Italians Stefano Longhi (Stefano Longhi) and Claudio Corti (Claudio Corti) and the Germans Günther Nothdurft (Günther Nothdurft) and Franz Mayer ( Franz Mayer). During the ascent, the teams united, but this did not allow them to avoid difficulties. Both Italians broke down, got injured and waited out the terrible weather on different shelves. The German team reached the summit, but both climbers died on the descent. Longhi died on the wall. Corti managed to save. The international team showed courage and ingenuity by lowering a steel cable from the top. Alfred Hellepart went down 300 feet, found Corti and pulled him up.
Harrer criticized Korti's climbing skills to the nines and said that his version of what happened had nothing to do with reality. He assumed that Korti killed the German climbers and took advantage of their equipment and products. Four years later, the bodies of the German climbers were found, and it became obvious that they had died on the descent. The version of Korti's involvement in their deaths has not been confirmed. However, Harrer did not even think to apologize.
Interview with Rainer Rettner: the secrets of the Eiger North Face.
Rainer Rettner, a German living near the Bavarian city of Wurzburg, dedicated the Eiger most own life. Its archive contains almost all books ever published, old and new magazines, thousands of newspaper articles and diary entries since 1882. This is one of the most complete meetings in the world. Last year, in collaboration with Daniel Anker, he published a paper that dealt with the Corti case. His version was fundamentally different from Heinrich Harer's biased assessment in The White Spider.
Rettner's latest book, "Eiger - Triumphe und Tragodien 1932 - 1938" is also the result of meticulous analysis. In it, he describes the first attempts to climb the North Face and the incredible solo attempt that preceded the successful climb of the 38th year, reveals new details tragic death Tony Kurtz. Unique photographs of that time are used as illustrations - poignant evidence of human weakness and courage.
How did your love for the mountains start? In particular, when did you first fall under the spell of the Eiger?
In the 70s, we spent our holidays traveling to different parts of Switzerland. We visited Grindelwald for the first time. As a six-year-old boy, I was deeply moved by the scenery and the stone giants surrounding the village. Since then, I dreamed of going back there.
I first became interested in the Eiger during boring summer holidays, having found the book "The White Spider" on the bookshelf of his father. The history of the North Wall turned out to be incredibly exciting and Harrer became my idol. Gradually, I began to buy books and other authors, such as Tony Hebler and Arthur Roth. I delved deeper into the history of the Eiger. That's how it all started!
- Describing the political background of the first passage of the Northern Wall, you mention the collaboration of Heinrich Harrer with the Nazis. Are you disappointed in your idol, or is he still a great person for you, albeit with a faulty reputation?
First, I was not the first author to talk about Harerr's Nazi connections. Gerald Lehner, an Austrian journalist, found his dossier in the German War Archives in Washington DC. This was in 1997. It is surprising that these facts did not surface before. There are at least a few newspaper articles that directly mention his membership in the SS. I do not understand why no one has unearthed the facts that Lehner managed to find. Perhaps the reason is such a painful attitude towards this topic in Germany and Austria, especially if we are talking about famous people. Even now, two years after his death, Harrer is very popular in Austria.
There is no doubt Harrer's conviction in the correctness of the Nazi ideology. He was a member of the SA, SS and NSDAP. During his successful ascent of the Eiger, he carried a Nazi flag in his backpack, which he regularly affixed to his tent. There are photographs in my book to prove it. Am I disappointed with his beliefs? Hardly. It is easy to criticize a person for actions committed seventy years ago, based on the knowledge gleaned from books. How would I behave if I were in his place?
What really upset me was the reaction to the facts of his biography that appeared in the press. He never admitted his guilt. It seemed that his memory was too selective. Many facts he denied throughout his life, despite their veracity, such as membership in the SA and the presence of a Nazi flag in his backpack. This indicates an unwillingness to admit their own mistakes. But be that as it may, it is impossible to overestimate his contribution to the development of the Eiger. His book "The White Spider" only reinforced the mythology of this mountain, becoming a classic despite its obvious flaws. And he was instrumental in the first successful ascent of the Eiger North Face. But personally, Heckmeier seems to me a more likeable and honest person.
- Yes, dark spots Harrer's biography does not detract from the dignity of his book. You are right to say that this is a classic. A very strong piece. The chapter dedicated to Tony Kurtz moves to tears. Kurtz fought desperately for his life, overcame an incredible number of obstacles, and it was necessary for some knot to prevent him from surviving, especially since salvation was very close. Do I understand correctly that the rescuers also had longer ropes?
If we compare the chapters devoted to the tragedy of the Corti-Longa bond and the death of Kurtz with his comrades, it is clear that Harrer treated Corti with obvious prejudice.
Despite the remarkable work he did in restoring the details of Kurtz's death, he still missed a few important points. Neither the tunnel superintendent Albert von Allmen nor the Swiss guides could find out from Kurz the details of what had happened, talking to him on July 21, 1936. Because of the storm, they could hardly speak to each other. They only managed to find out that Tony was in danger, but they did not know that three of his comrades were already dead. They weren't sure if Kurtz was shouting "Drei Mann tot" - "three people are dead" or "Kein Mann tot" - "all are alive". The dialogue described by Harrer actually took place in the early morning of July 22nd.
Toni Kurz (left) and Anderl Hinsterstoiber, Bavarian Alps.
Harrer also ignored the fact that the guides had a long rope (60 m). Hans Schlunegger, in an effort to save time, did not put it in a backpack, but secured the bay between the back and the backpack. In principle, it was a very common solution. Unfortunately, the sudden movement caused the rope to end up at the foot of the wall. After that, the guides had no choice but to tie two thirty-meter ropes. This misunderstanding became fatal for Kurtz: on a solid rope there would not have been an ill-fated knot that prevented Tony from descending to the guides. But, I am almost sure that his condition was so deplorable that even if he went down, the heavy traverse was beyond his strength. Harrera justifies the fact that for the first time the full version of those events was voiced only in 1996, the year, the guide Arnold Glattard, who joined the rescuers on July 22, 1936. This shows the importance of this rope story. But do not blame the Swiss guides. They were first class climbers and did everything they could to save Tony Kurtz. Luck was just not on his side!
The rescuers saw a terrible sight: the corpse of Tony Kurtz covered with an ice crust.
- While working on the book, you managed to find confirmation of your solo climbing attempt in 1937. This is an amazing discovery!
A real mystery! Swiss climber and writer Claude Remy, while collecting information for his book “Climbing in the Swiss Jura”, learned from a former partner Hans Heidegger (Hans Haidegger) that he allegedly attempted a solo ascent of the North Face. And he managed to get to Death Bivouac! Heideger (1913 - 1991) was born in Austria, but with early childhood lived in Switzerland. He was a first-class climber and made pioneering ascents of difficult walls in the Bernese Oberland, such as the Schreckhorn Northwest Face route. Or the second ascent of the Lauterbrunnen Breithorn North Face route, very reminiscent of the Eiger route. He did not elaborate on the solo climbing attempt, but made a short entry in his diary, which I was able to obtain from his daughter: “Eiger Nordwand besuch abgestatt allein”, which means “North Wall received a lone guest”. This happened at the beginning of August 1937. He later drew the route line on a photo printed in Toni Hiebeler's '73 book. It turned out that he climbed straight to the first ice field, passing Difficult Crack and the Hinterstoiser traverse. It is difficult to say whether it was just reconnaissance, or whether he expected to get to the top. A couple of days later, Heideger and Lucie Durand attempted to repeat the route on the Northeast Face, but bad weather forced them to turn back at around 3650 meters.
I can only guess why he withheld information about the solo climb: at that time the press was very critical of any attempt to climb the North Face, especially if it was about Swiss climbers. Loulou Boulaz of Geneva, a member of the Grand Jorasse Croz-Pillar, was severely criticized by Swiss journalists for her unsuccessful attempt to climb the North Face in July 1937. She was charged with recklessness, characteristic of German and Austrian climbers! Perhaps Heidegger, who received Swiss citizenship only in 1942, did not want to get from the journalistic brethren.
- Are there many unique photographs in the book?
Yes, I think. Many of them have never been published in books, only in old magazines and newspapers. I was pleasantly surprised by the willingness of relatives of famous Eiger climbers to provide me with material. From them I received a lot of unique photographs of Anderl Hinterstoiser, Max Sedlmayr and Leo Brankowsky. I also received a beautiful album of over a hundred photographs from the Munich Mountain Guard, whose members helped lower the bodies of Tony Kurtz and his comrades. I got unlimited access to a collection of photographs of Ludwig Worg that were taken during the 1937 attempt. Photojournalist from Bern, Hans Steiner, provided me with photographs taken at the glaciologist station during the celebration of a successful attempt on July 24, 1938. I hope that the two hundred photos that I have selected will please the readers!
With a heavy backpack
Passing this bulwark gave me my first foreboding of what the Wall had in store; but the fact that I didn't lose my breath while going through the crevasse increased my confidence that I was ready for physical activity. There is, of course, a huge difference between balancing, like a gymnast under a circus dome, on even the most difficult Dolomite wall and climbing the Eiger Wall with heavy luggage. But isn't the ability to carry heavy backpacks a necessary skill for every successful climb?
Overcoming the "Difficult cleft"
Many climbers will use the old loops left in the Difficult Cleft to climb. We chose to climb free climbing. A climber with the skill of Kasparek only uses loops where they are absolutely unavoidable.
red plumb
By that time, we were just below the “Red Plumb”, that smooth wall, thirty meters high, which stretches like licked rocks into the sky. According to the rules based on human experience, the walls of the mountains sleep peacefully early in the morning, bound by the cold of the night. Stones are frozen and motionless.
But Iger's Wall is not subject to any Queensberry rules; another example of how she doesn't give a damn about all the tricks of people. Stones suddenly fell down. We saw how they flew over the edge of the "Red Plumb" and whistled over us, describing a wide arc. The wall opened fire. We hurried up to quickly get to the bottom of the plumb line, where, clinging to the wall, we could feel safe.
Another rockfall rumbled. Stones hit the wall below us, shattering into a thousand pieces. Then we heard Fraisl's voice, not a call for help or an SOS, just a conversation, one of them was hit in the head by a stone and wounded.
"Something serious? Can I help you?" we asked.
“No, but my head is terribly dizzy. I think we've had enough. We'll have to come back." "Can you manage on your own?" "Yes, everything is fine." We were sorry that our two Viennese friends could not keep us company, but we did not dissuade them. Thus, Fraisl and Brankowski began to descend back down.
red plumb
Now, before sunrise, the two of us were alone again on the Wall. There had just been six of us, now Fritz and I could only count on each other's help. We didn't discuss it, but subconsciously it reinforced our sense of mutual help and camaraderie. We moved quickly over simple rocks, and then, suddenly, we found ourselves at the crossing, which Rebic and Förg had christened the "Hinterstoiser Traverse" a year earlier.
A.Hinterstoiser
The rocks, along which we now had to traverse to the left, were cut vertically clear air. We were delighted with the courage and skill of Hinterstoiser, who crossed this traverse through the first ice field, realizing the complexity of the task.
Tony Kurtz and Andreas Hinterstoiser
The deceased Tony Kurtz
Hans Schlunegger, Arnold Glatthard and Adolf Rubi. Guides who tried to save T. Kurtz
A breakdown on such a traverse was fraught with the emergence of a huge "pendulum". We were full of gratitude also to Ferg and Rebic for leaving the rope on the traverse - saying hello to us, she was very helpful. We checked the rope and made sure it was secure and safe to load, although it had hung for twelve months in storms and downpours, in damp and cold.
Traverse Hinterstoiser. Current state
From reports, descriptions and photographs we knew how to traverse. No one, however, explained what to do when the entire wall was covered with slick ice. The rock was completely icy, without a single ledge on which one could stand with a foot.
On the traverse F. Kasparek
Nevertheless, Fritz traversed with his usual amazing skill, balancing on the slippery ice, making his way, centimeter by centimeter, meter by meter, across this difficult and treacherous wall. In some places he had to blow snow or a crust of ice off the rock with the blows of an ice ax; ice shards slid down the cliff with a high-pitched ringing sound, and disappeared into the abyss.
F. Kasparek passes the traverse
But Fritz held on confidently, working his way to the left, climbing, hanging near the rock on a rope, from hold to hold, until he reached the far end of the traverse.
G.Harrer traverses pushing F.Kasparek's backpack
Then I followed, pushing Fritz's backpack, hanging on the railing, in front of me, and soon joined my partner on the other side. Shortly after the traverse we arrived at the Swallow's Nest, a bivouac site made famous by Rebić and Fjorg, and there we stopped for a rest and a little snack. The weather held on and the beautiful dawn turned into a wonderful day. The lighting was so good that it was already possible to take some pictures of the traverse, a traverse that is certainly one of the most photogenic in all the Alps.
Current state of the Hinterstoiser traverse
This prosaic epithet describes a whole story - extreme hardship, exposure to danger, courage to move. But I would like to immediately take the opportunity to correct the misunderstanding: the Hinterstoiser Traverse is certainly one of the key stages of the ascent, but by no means the only one.
Traverse Hinterstoiser. Modernity.
This impossibly huge Wall has numerous key locations that - thanks to the successful return of Rebic and Ferg - have by now been scouted for Zedlmeier and Mehringer's Deadly Boot. We did not yet know what key sections were waiting for us there, at the final stage of the ascent. So far we only knew that in all the Alps, this wall is a striking object for the admiring spectator and a lofty but expensive goal for the best climbers in existence.
In early August, two German climbers, aged 36 and 43, crashed while climbing the northern slope of Mount Eiger in the Bernese Alps. How exactly they died is still unknown. At first they were declared missing, then rescuers from a helicopter managed to find the bodies of the dead. Presumably, both fell into the abyss. This event, which at first glance may seem unremarkable to some, nevertheless makes us recall the very sad story of the Eiger North Face, in particular, the story of another ascent that ended tragically, undertaken in 1936 by four young climbers: two Germans Tony Kurz and Andreas Hinterstoiser and two Austrians Willy Angerer and Eduard Reiner.
By the 30s of the last century, one after another, almost all the main peaks of the Alps were conquered. The Eiger was no exception: back in 1858, guides from the village of Gindenwald at the foot of the Eiger, Christian Almer and Peter Boren, together with the Irishman Charles Barrington, reached the top of the mountain along the Western Wall. In 1932, a successful ascent was made along the northeast ridge. However, the northern slope of the Eiger continued to be impregnable. It is an almost sheer wall, blown by strong winds, which rises almost 2000 meters, and the higher, the steeper. The northern wall is always in the shade, the sun practically does not look there, this is the dark side of the Eiger in every sense. At the same time, the weather on Nordvand can change in a matter of minutes.
The first attempt to climb the North Face was made in 1934 and ended in failure: three climbers fell down, but were eventually rescued. In August 1935, two residents of Munich, Karl Mehringer and Max Sedelmeier, tried to conquer the North Wall. On the third day of the ascent, when the climbers were on the so-called second ice field, the weather deteriorated sharply, a snow storm began. Numerous reporters and spectators gathered at the foot of the mountain watched through spyglasses as Mehringer and Sedelmeier tried to find shelter on the slope. On the fifth day, both disappeared from sight. The stiffened corpse of Max Sedelmeier was discovered later. The place where he was found was called the "Bivouac of Death".
box#2092542
However, despite the grim glory of the North Face, the following year four young climbers Kurz, Hinterstoisser, Agnerer and Reiner (the oldest of them was 27 years old) made their own attempt to climb the North Face. Initially, it was assumed that they would go in two teams - German and Austrian, but then the two groups merged into one. Kurz and Hinterstoisser developed their original route. They intended to climb to the point where the sheer Red Rock (Rote Fluh) began and go around it on the left, thus ending up right in the heart of the Eiger, where the ice fields lie, and continue climbing to the top along them. They managed to reach the Red Rock without much difficulty on the first day. However, a completely unexpected obstacle was discovered here.
A sheer, completely smooth slab about 30 meters wide prevented us from going around the rock; it was not possible to traverse it. However, a solution was found. Above the smooth slab, a rocky ledge hung. Hinterstoisser, who was the most skilled climber of the four, got to him, drove in the hook and threw the belay. Insured by his comrades, he managed, like a pendulum, to fly sideways to the other side, and gain a foothold there. The rest climbed over, holding Hinterstoisser's belay with their hands. It was an obvious success that opened the way to the top of the Eiger. However, it was at this point that the climbers made the mistake of removing the rope that they had traversed. In principle, none of them imagined that they would have to return by the same route, and, of course, no one could know that this rope was the only way to return.
After passing the traverse, Kurz, Hinterstoisser, Angerer and Reiner began climbing the first ice field, starting at an altitude of 1000 meters. Here, in addition to the obvious dangers such as the steep slope and the wind, there was another one that no one suspected. In the afternoon, as the sun approaches the upper edge of the North Face, the ice on the summit begins to melt. Together with it, small pieces of rock thaw, which rain down. Despite their small size, they are very dangerous, as they fall from a great height. In the 30s, none of the climbers had protective helmets, the ascent was made in thick knitted hats. Tony Kurz and Andreas Hinterstoisser climbed without problems, but Willy Angerer, who was in third place, was hit in the head by a small stone. Pulling him up and stopping the bleeding, the comrades decided not to go further and spend the night.
box#2092543
A small pebble, taken literally from nowhere, radically changed the situation. Now, out of four climbers, one was injured, and there was still more than half the way to the top. It was necessary to decide whether to continue the ascent or return. At seven o'clock in the morning the next day, all four moved further up, soon reaching the place where the second ice field began, about 600 meters wide. They expected to pass it as quickly as possible, in five or six hours, reaching the "Bivouac of Death" - the last point that Karl Mehringer and Max Sedelmayer had reached in their time. However, it turned out that the wounded Willy Angerer was moving slower and slower every hour. As a result, by the end of the day they were still on the ice field and spent the second night on the ice.
It was clear to everyone that it was necessary to pass the ice field as quickly as possible. The weather could turn bad at any moment and lock them up on the slope. This is how Mehringer and Zedelmeier had died a year earlier. The Bivouac of Death, where the frozen Zedelmeier was found, was only a few tens of meters away, as if serving as a grim reminder. It was impossible to move on at such a slow pace. The next morning, Toni Kurz and Andreas Hinterstoisser broke away from Angerer and Reiner and quickly went up. Probably, with their slightly aggressive behavior, they wanted to captivate their comrades along with them, to force them to gather their strength. However, the result was just the opposite. It soon became clear that the wounded Willy Angerer was completely exhausted. Climbing was out of the question, the main thing now was to save his life.
The climbers moved back, but descending with the wounded, losing strength Angerer turned out to be as difficult as climbing. It was only in the evening of the third day that we managed to pass the second ice field back. The next day, Kurz, Hinterstoisser, Angerer and Reiner descended over the first ice field to a traverse, which they successfully crossed on their way up. The traverse was the only way to continue on a relatively safe descent. However, what was possible in one direction was impossible to do in another. On the side where the climbers were, there was no ledge hanging, so it was impossible, like the previous time, to drive a hook and, with the help of insurance, get over to the opposite side.
Andreas Hinterstoisser, who secured the belay for the first time, knew better than anyone how difficult it was. To this was added another complication: the weather began to worsen. Fog shrouded the northern wall, the stones became wet and slippery, in some places ice had already frozen. However, Hinterstoisser tried to repeat the success: for almost five hours, he non-stop tried to traverse the wet smooth rock 30 meters wide to secure the belay at the other end, but failed every time. Only now did all four realize what a mistake they had made by removing the rope, and thereby cutting off their way back. The climbers had no choice - they had to either die on the Wall, or go straight down a steep slope about 230 meters high. If successful, they could reach the cornice below, moving along which, reach the underground railway adit and escape.
Eiger has another feature. At the end of the 19th century, the Swiss authorities built a railway tunnel through the mountain. In the middle of the tunnel, a corridor upstairs was hollowed out, which led directly to the North Face, so that passengers could climb up and take in the views. The exit from the corridor with a small observation deck has more than once saved climbers who got into trouble. Kurz, Hinterstoisser, Angerer and Reiner began a very risky descent. By this time, a snow storm had already broken out. Despite fatigue and poor visibility, they managed to overcome more than half of the way. At that moment, they heard a cry: the keeper of the railway tunnel was shouting, he went out to the observation platform and asked how they were doing.
For some reason, the climbers shouted that they were doing well. Not a word about a wounded comrade, or about the fact that they themselves go down an extremely dangerous route, and, moreover, into a snow storm. They really only had a little bit left: to drive in the last hook, secure the insurance and go down the last 70 meters. Around 2 pm Andreas Hinterstoisser, who was leading the way, untied the belay that tied him to the others, and began to drive in the last hook. And at that moment, an avalanche suddenly hit the climbers. Hinterstoisser was immediately swept into the abyss. His body was later found at the foot of the Eiger.
The avalanche tore Tony Kurtz and Willy Angerer off the wall. Hanging on the insurance, the wounded Angerer hit the wall with all his might and died almost immediately. Only Eduard Reiner managed to stay at the top. However, a powerful and sharp jerk of the insurance that obliges him, on which two of his comrades hung helplessly below, tore his diaphragm. According to other sources, Reiner was strangled by a harness. Finally, according to the third version, the taut insurance pressed him against the wall, where there was a sharp stone ledge that crushed his chest. Eduard Reiner fought and died for about ten minutes. Tony Kurtz was not injured. He was hanging over an abyss. Angerer was below him, Reiner was above him, both dead. At about 3 pm, the tunnel keeper told the rescuers in the valley that he again tried to shout to the four young climbers, but this time only one voice answered him, which called for help.
An hour later, the rescue team was already at the exit to the observation deck. Moving sideways, they reached the place over which Kurtz hung, but they could not see him: Tony was about 50 meters away from them behind a rock ledge. The only way to save him was to climb higher and pull him up, but in a snowstorm and rapidly approaching darkness, this would be tantamount to suicide. Rescuers would not save anyone and would only die themselves. So they shouted to Kurtz that he must hold out the night: in the morning they would come and take him down from the cliff. They went back to the cries of Kurtz, who begged them not to leave him. How Tony Kurtz survived his fourth night on the wall, dangling in a blizzard over a precipice, is impossible to imagine.
Waking up in the morning, he found that in a dream a mitten had fallen off his left hand, and his hand froze, turning into a frozen hook. Rescuers came, but again they could not climb the wall to pull Tony Kurtz out. During the night, the warm front that brought the storm was replaced by a cold one, the entire North Face turned out to be covered with a centimeter layer of ice like glaze. The only possibility for Kurz was to cut the rope at the end of which Angerer's body hung, after that he himself climb up to Reiner, remove the harness from him and go down to the rescuers using the released insurance. Kurtz cut the rope, then with one hand, with an incredible effort, he climbed up. However, having released the insurance, he realized that it would not be enough to go down.
To lengthen the rope, he was forced to unravel the frozen strands of the rope with his only working hand and teeth. This, according to various sources, took him from three to five hours. On the rope thus lengthened, Tony Kurtz, of course, could not descend to the rescuers, but he handed her down, where they tied another rope to her. Kurtz began to slowly pull the insurance back. But then the rescuers noticed that even the new rope was not enough for Kurtz to descend, and they lengthened it by tying a second rope with a knot. Around noon, having secured the insurance, frostbitten and barely alive Tony Kurtz began to slowly descend. About 50 meters separated him from the rescuers. When they were only 15 meters away, Kurtz stumbled upon a knot that tied two ropes. And this knot turned out to be too big to pass through the carabiner. The exhausted Kurtz tried to push him through, somehow weaken him. In front of the rescuers, he unsuccessfully tried to free himself, finally, he said distinctly, so that he could be heard below: "Ich kann nicht mehr" (I can't take it anymore), and sagged.
Tony Kurtz's body was removed only two days later by a joint rescue team from Germany and Austria. After this incident, the Swiss authorities closed the North Face for climbing, but four months later the ban was challenged in court and lifted. Two years later, on July 21-24, 1938, the German-Austrian group of climbers managed to conquer the North Face. And yet: in 1957 there was a new accident - of the four climbers who set off along the North Face, only one survived. In 1967, four experienced climbers from the GDR died while trying to climb. And in 2010, two German climbers died again on the Eiger North Face. Their death is no less tragic than the death of their predecessors.
The famous British climber Joe Simpson, who wrote a book about Tony Kurtz and his comrades The Beckoning Silence, noted that the most paradoxical thing when climbing the extremely dangerous North Face is the fact that everyday life is in full swing very close by. You can hear the voices of tourists coming by train to five-star hotels at the foot of the Eiger, the clink of beer glasses that are clinked in a restaurant, people can be seen skiing carelessly. One way or another, this year the North Face once again confirmed its gloomy glory.
It is worth noting that in 2007, based on the book by Joe Simpson, a reconstruction documentary film Drama in der Eiger Nordwand was filmed, which was shown by Channel 4 and the pan-European cultural television channel ARTE. In 2008, a feature film Nordwand ("Northern Wall") about the 1936 climb starring Benno Fuhrmann and Johanna Wokalek ("Barefoot on the Pavement") was filmed in Germany. Neither film was shown in Russia.
Alexey Demyanov
A. Heckmeier, L. Fjorg, F. Kasparek, G. Harrer
The summer of 1938 began rather sadly, with the deaths of two young Italian climbers, Bartolo Sandri and Mario Menti. They worked in a wool factory in Valdano, in the province of Vicenza. At a young age - 23 years old - both became honorary members of the Italian Mountaineering Club. Especially famous was Sandri, an extraordinarily gifted climber who made many serious ascents of the highest 6th category of difficulty, including several first ascents.
True, they had almost no experience of moving along the ice routes in the Alps. Like all real climbers, they arrived at Alpiglen and Kleine Scheidegg quietly, without fanfare, almost secretly. First, we studied the Wall, for reconnaissance we passed the beginning of the route and descended again. They decided that the direct route that Max Sedlmeier and Karl Mehringer tried to climb the Eiger three years ago was easier than the one discovered by Andreas Hinterstoisser. But he was by no means safer. The fact is that the Wall has not yet reached the state most suitable for climbing.
View of the Eiger, Mönch, Jungfrau from Mänlichen. Bernese Alps
However, Bartolo and Mario set off early in the morning on June 21st. They were able to climb higher than Zedlmayer and Hinterstoiser did on the first day. The courage and enthusiasm of the friends increased, as did their determination to win. The Italians were impatient and simply could not keep themselves waiting. And nature at this time followed its own laws, not taking into account courage, enthusiasm and ambition. Late in the evening, one of the infamous Eiger thunderstorms began...
Eiger, Mönch, Jungfrau
The next day, a search patrol of Grindelwald guides, led by Fritz Steuri, finds Sandri dead in the snow at the foot of the Wall. Menti's body was raised with great difficulty from a deep crack in the glacier only a few days later.
rescue work
Memorial plaque B.Sandri and M.Menti
It was a bad start to the attempts to climb the Eiger in the summer of 1938, but another tragedy could not stop the developments that were to come. The memory of the successful return from the Rebic and Ferg route, which was a turning point in the minds of the climbers, was still vivid. But it was a lesson from which everyone realized that it was impossible to take the Wall by surprise. Veni, vidi, vici (I came, I saw, I conquered) does not pass on the Eiger. It is necessary to have infinite patience and be able to wait for a long time ... for many days, perhaps even weeks.
Aiger. photo billyc
Meanwhile, Fritz Kasparek was impatiently waiting for my arrival. This great climber from Vienna, sparkling with life, blessed with an optimism that nothing could destroy, had already been in Grindelwald for some time, skiing around the Bernese Oberland, never ceasing to watch the mighty Eiger Wall. Although, so far, there was not much to watch, except for continuous avalanches, serious enough to nip even the very idea of \u200b\u200btrying.
Scheme of the North Face of the Eiger
All the same, Fritz would very much like to have his partner with him now for the serious climb they were planning to do together; You never know what might happen when you change plans. Sepp Brunnhuber, with whom Fritz made the first winter ascent of the Grosse Zinne North Face back in February - somewhat of a training climb for the Eiger project - still couldn't get up. I promised Fritz to come to Grindelwald by 10 July; but deep down he had reason to doubt the student's promises.
Heinrich Harrer and Fritz Kasparek
Actually, I was no longer a student by the time I got to Grindelwald. My lecturers at the University of Graz were amazed at the speed with which I suddenly passed everything. final exams. I couldn't explain to them that I need to get rid of my studies before I can climb the Eiger North Face.
They would, of course, shake their heads, and - not without condemnation - would remind me that it is quite possible to make this ascent without higher education. I didn't tell anyone about our plan, neither fellow students, nor fellow athletes and climbers. The only person I let into the secret was a wise, practical and courageous woman, my future mother-in-law, Frau Else Wegener. In 1930 her husband, Professor Alfred Wegener, gave his life for the life of companions in the endless ice of Greenland when he died in a snow storm; thus, she may have had good reason to be vehemently opposed to plans that put your life on the line. She, however, did not utter a word of condemnation; on the contrary, she encouraged me, although she knew well the reputation of the Eiger North Face.
My last test was on the morning of July 9th. After dinner I mounted my heavily loaded motor bike; and arrived in Grindelwald exactly on the 10th of July, as promised. Fritz Kasparek, tanned to a chocolate shade under the mountain sun, with burnt hair, greeted me in the unchanging Viennese.
Fritz Kasparek
Fritz was endowed with the art of eloquence. He had a positively original gift for inventing curse words when faced with apparently insurmountable difficulties, but he would not admit it - both in the mountains and in ordinary life. However, he never used to flaunt his feelings; never chitchat about friendship or partnership.
But he had such a nature that in a difficult situation, he would not only share with his companions the last crust of bread or a crumb of chocolate, but also give them the whole thing. And at the same time, not with pity on his face, but accompanied by a strong Viennese word or expression. With such friends, you can steal horses, invite the Devil to a picnic, or climb the North Face of the Eiger. Fraissl and Brankowski, two old Eiger experts, were also in Grindelwald.
F.Kasparek, G.Harrer, K.Freisl and L.Brankowski
Together we walked to a pasture above the Alpiglen, and there we camped. We had a firm intention to avoid those mistakes that proved fatal to the previous groups. Most importantly, it was necessary to thoroughly study our entire mountain before climbing its most interesting and difficult wall. Therefore, we first climbed diagonally from the Hoheneis Glacier along the northeast slope along the Mittelega Ridge, then up to the top and descended along the usual route.
Aiger. Rib Mittelegi
Ascent to the Eiger summit along the Mittelega Ridge
In addition, we climbed Mönch on the Nollen route.
Mönch. On the right, the Nollen route passes through the ice "nose".
Meanwhile, the cows were driven to our idyllic pasture. Fritz and I decided to change our place of residence, and moved our small tent to a small meadow not far from the wall. Fraisl and Brankowski stayed in the pasture.
Swiss pastoral
It was a beautiful day when Fritz and I started climbing from the bottom of the wall and after climbing about 700m to the so-called “Bivouac Cave” above the “Destroyed Pillar”, we left a backpack full of provisions and equipment. We attached a label to it with the inscription: “Property of Kasparek and Harrer. Do not touch".
This notice did not signify any particular distrust of the other climbers on the North Face. Simply, due to repeated climbing attempts and frequent rescue and transportation operations, the wall was littered with the remains of equipment, ropes and hooks, which served as a good help and addition to the equipment of subsequent groups. Therefore, it was simply necessary to clearly sign any backpack, specially left on the wall with a throw, like, for example, ours.
On the Eiger wall
We went back down to our tent. The conditions did not yet allow us to start climbing and count on the slightest prospect of success. We made up our minds not to let ourselves be pushed, pushed, or urged on. Past tragedies, and especially the death of two Italians earlier this summer, have taught us that any haste can interfere with a conscious sober decision and lead to the most dire consequences. We could wait and we wanted to wait.
North Face of the Eiger in the snow
The days of good weather had already arrived, and we were still waiting, watching how the snow that fell during storms and filled up the rocks, changing their shape, melted, mixing with the old bottom layer. Now it seemed reasonable to hope that conditions on the pre-summit, unknown section of the wall would also be tolerable. On the 21st of July we decided that the hour had struck. Around 2:00 am we started to climb the wall, crossing the bergschrund in the dark, moving one at a time, unconnected, to the “Shattered Pillar”.
We climbed in silence, each of us choosing our own path, each of us thinking about something different.
Movement on the glacier
These hours between night and day are always a tough test of courage. The body goes mechanically, making the right movements, gaining height; but the spirit is not yet awake, it is not embraced by the joy of ascent, the soul is in thought and doubt. My friend Curt Maxes once called these doubts the true sister of fear, the right and necessary counterbalance to that courage that urges men to go up and protects them from self-destruction. This is certainly not the fear that climbers sometimes experience; but doubts and questions, and human fears. After all, climbers are just human beings. They must come to terms with their own shortcomings and forebodings; they must submit to willpower, realizing that everything is in their hands.
And thus the first hour, the hour of gray, formless, colorless dusk at dawn, is the hour of silence. Apparent trust is false, reality can be erroneous, sometimes when a person struggles to achieve perfection, he overdoes himself, trying to extinguish subtle nuances premonitions with their will power. And the great thing about the mountains is that they don't tolerate lies. Among them, we must be honest, first of all, with ourselves. Fritz and I climbed up in the dark, and at dawn we passed the Broken Pillar.
From time to time we heard voices behind us, could even distinguish individual words. They were Fraisl and Brankovski, who, like us, waited for good weather and went to the wall after us. We got along pretty well with them. Two bundles on this huge wall will not interfere with each other; on the contrary, they can come to the rescue in unforeseen situations.
Route start
The rocks looked gray, even the snow was gray in the first, deathly pale rays of dawn. And there was something else gray moving ahead. This time, not rocks, but people emerging from their tent-sacks in the "Bivouac Cave". Immediately, all thoughts, doubts and questions that were born in the secret depths of our ego rushed away. We were not going to discuss them, especially with unfamiliar fellow climbers who were both comrades and competitors.
A. Heckmeier
Strangers? Climbers are never truly strangers, especially on this Wall. We introduced ourselves to these two who had just woken up from a night's sleep. Then they told us who they were: Andreas Heckmeier and Ludwig Förg. It was a unique place for such an acquaintance. The light of the approaching day was too bright for us to be able to see the faces of the people standing opposite, to distinguish individual features and appreciate them.
A. Heckmeier
So, it was the famous Andreas Heckmeier. He is 32 years old and was the oldest of the four of us. His face was deeply lined with a sharp, protruding nose. It was a thin, brave face, the face of a fighter, a man who demands a lot from his partners, but he himself gives all the best.
L. Ferg
The second man, Ludwig Förg, seemed to be exactly the opposite type; well-rounded, of an athletic build, not in the least wiry or thin, yet his features were not as memorable as those of Heckmeyer. They radiated a friendly disposition; his whole being was characterized by latent strength and inner calm. His friends, with whom he was in the Caucasus two years ago, nicknamed him “King of Bivouac”. Even those terrible nights in the open air on the 2000-meter ice wall of Ushba, the “Terrible Mountain”, could not disturb his sleep.
In a nutshell, one could attribute dynamic strength to Heckmeier and stamina to Ferg. In any case, two such different and complementary characters could not resist the temptation to make this difficult ascent.
We couldn't tell if the two men were disappointed that we were on the Wall at the same time as them. If they were, then, of course, they did not show it. Heckmeyer said: “We knew you were trying to get over the Wall. We saw your backpack and read the tag.” We could not understand why we were ignorant of the presence of these two men, who did not live in a tent or in Alpiglen or Klein Scheidigg, neither in hay nor in any of the pastures. It was only later that we learned that this time, they completely covered their tracks. They arrived in Grindelwald with luggage and rented a room in one of the hotels in Klein Scheidegg.
Hotels in Kleine Scheidegg
Who has ever heard of a North Face Eiger candidate sleeping in a hotel room? The trick worked great. Heckmeyer and Ferg had the best, most modern equipment with them. They were in fact as poor as we were, but they had found a climbing sponsor in advance and therefore, for the first time in their lives, they were able to buy everything their heart desires in the best sports shop in Munich, and even make special-order equipment.
Of course, both had twelve-tooth cats, which had just come into vogue. Fritz had ten teeth, and I had no cats at all. It must be said that this was a mistake, but it was not the result of negligence, but rather of too scrupulous calculation. We reasoned that the North Face was a rocky wall with patches of snow and ice. A couple of cats weigh a fair amount, and we felt that if we could do without them, we could take more equipment and provisions with us. My shoes were nailed with special nails, according to a system popular in Graz; the location of the spikes provided equally good stability on rocks and ice.
Our plan was to have Fritz lead on the ice and me on the rocks. We also didn't want to waste time putting on and taking off crampons. We were very wrong, and it was a mistake, but it did not lead to tragedy, we just lost time. But we didn't know it yet when we stood and talked with Heckmeyer and Ferg at the entrance to the Bivouac Cave. Ferg, accustomed to bivouacking in all conditions and places, grumbled about the night they had just spent. “It was cold and uncomfortable,” he complained. “Rockfalls made it impossible to sleep outside the cave, and the cave itself was narrow and wet. Our sleeping bags dripped all night.”
The foot of the North Face of the Eiger
Heckmeyer looked at his altimeter and shook his head vaguely. “Up about sixty meters,” he announced, “meaning the barometer has dropped about three points. It doesn't bode well for the weather." At that very moment, Fraisl and Brankowski approached us.
Acquaintance and friendly greetings followed, but at this time, notes of concern were already audible in Heckmeier's voice. Like a good actor, he hid his disappointment. He just pointed to a fish-shaped cloud on the horizon and said, “I'm sure the weather is changing. We won't go any further." We ourselves were sure that the weather would be stable, and Fritz expressed his optimistic point of view “Oh, I'm sure the weather will stay the same. And someone has to climb the Wall someday, after all!”
Heckmeyer and Ferg began to prepare for the descent, and we went on. I kept thinking about the retreat of these two superb climbers, and there was a look of indescribable disappointment on Ferg's face. But what about Heckmeyer? I soon realized that his suspicious cloud and “altimeter boost” were just excuses. He knew that the presence of three pins on the Wall could lead to serious delays, but he was too good a sportsman to insist on the rights of “who is first up…” and ask that one of our teams return. Thus, he himself decided to return: instead of saying “you are wrong”, he noted that he did not like the weather. It was a decision dictated by the true meaning of responsibility in mountaineering. Again and again, climbers on the North Face faced difficulties, because they allowed themselves to be rushed not only by the condition of the Wall or the weather, but also by competing with others. Ferg, one of the finest climbers to have attempted the summit, didn't want to let himself be rushed.
Work on the wall
At that moment, there was no time for psychological reflection or solving such problems. The wall itself presented us with real challenges as we reached the “Tough cleft”. Twilight was finally forced to give way to the first bright morning light. We climbed up, and Fritz took up the first serious wall with his usual skill.
The heavy backpack over his shoulders cooled his spontaneous attempt to pass the wall on the move. He had to go downstairs and leave the backpack at my feet. Then he made a second throw. It's a pleasure to watch him. He climbed higher and higher, elegantly exploiting every crack, not out of his own rhythm, without any extra effort. And in an amazingly short time, he coped with this first bastion on the Wall.
The job of lifting Fritz's pack was difficult, and a huge waste of time as he clung to all the ledges. After all, we pulled the first backpack upstairs; the second, weighing 25 kg., I dragged on my shoulders. We simply didn’t have time for the fun of pulling out the second backpack. Fritz picked me out tight; his help at least offset the weight of my rucksack, and soon I too was at the top of the crevasse.
With a heavy backpack
Passing this bulwark gave me my first foreboding of what the Wall had in store; but the fact that I didn't lose my breath walking through the crevasse added to my confidence that I was ready for the physical challenge. There is, of course, a huge difference between balancing, like a gymnast under a circus dome, on even the most difficult Dolomite wall and climbing the Eiger Wall with heavy luggage. But isn't the ability to carry heavy backpacks a necessary skill for every successful climb?
Overcoming the "Difficult Crack"
Many climbers will use the old loops left in the Difficult Crevice to climb. We chose to climb free climbing. A climber with the skill of Kasparek only uses loops where they are absolutely unavoidable.
red plumb
By that time, we were just below the “Red Plumb”, that smooth wall, thirty meters high, which stretches like licked rocks into the sky. According to the rules based on human experience, the walls of the mountains sleep peacefully early in the morning, bound by the cold of the night. Stones are frozen and motionless.
But Iger's Wall is not subject to any Queensberry rules; another example of how she doesn't give a damn about all the tricks of people. Stones suddenly fell down. We saw how they flew over the edge of the "Red Plumb" and whistled over us, describing a wide arc. The wall opened fire. We hurried up to quickly get to the bottom of the plumb line, where, clinging to the wall, we could feel safe.
Another rockfall rumbled. Stones hit the wall below us, shattering into a thousand pieces. Then we heard Fraisl's voice, not a call for help or an SOS, just a conversation, one of them was hit in the head by a stone and wounded.
"Something serious? Can I help you?" we asked.
“No, but my head is terribly dizzy. I think we've had enough. We'll have to come back." “Can you manage on your own?” "Yes, everything is fine." We were sorry that our two Viennese friends could not keep us company, but we did not dissuade them. Thus, Fraisl and Brankowski began to descend back down.
red plumb
Now, before sunrise, the two of us were alone again on the Wall. There had just been six of us, now Fritz and I could only count on each other's help. We didn't discuss it, but subconsciously it reinforced our sense of mutual help and camaraderie. We moved quickly over simple rocks, and then, suddenly, we found ourselves at the crossing, which Rebic and Ferg had christened the "Hinterstoiser Traverse" a year earlier.
A.Hinterstoiser
The rocks, along which we now had to traverse to the left, cut through the transparent air vertically. We were delighted with the courage and skill of Hinterstoiser, who crossed this traverse through the first ice field, realizing the complexity of the task.
Tony Kurtz and Andreas Hinterstoiser
The deceased Tony Kurtz
Hans Schlunegger, Arnold Glatthard and Adolf Rubi. Guides who tried to save T. Kurtz
A breakdown on such a traverse was fraught with the emergence of a huge "pendulum". We were also full of gratitude to Ferg and Rebic for leaving the rope on the traverse - saying hello to us with this was very helpful. We checked the rope and made sure it was secure and safe to load, although it had hung for twelve months in storms and downpours, in damp and cold.
Traverse Hinterstoiser. Current state
From reports, descriptions and photographs we knew how to traverse. No one, however, explained what to do when the entire wall was covered with slick ice. The rock was completely icy, without a single ledge on which one could stand with a foot.
On the traverse F. Kasparek
Nevertheless, Fritz traversed with his usual amazing skill, balancing on the slippery ice, making his way, centimeter by centimeter, meter by meter, across this difficult and treacherous wall. In some places he had to blow snow or a crust of ice off the rock with the blows of an ice ax; ice shards slid down the cliff with a high-pitched ringing sound, and disappeared into the abyss.
F. Kasparek passes the traverse
But Fritz held on confidently, working his way to the left, climbing, hanging near the rock on a rope, from hold to hold, until he reached the far end of the traverse.
G.Harrer traverses pushing F.Kasparek's backpack
Then I followed, pushing Fritz's backpack, hanging on the railing, in front of me, and soon joined my partner on the other side. Shortly after the traverse we arrived at the Swallow's Nest, a bivouac site made famous by Rebić and Fjorg, and there we stopped for a rest and a little snack. The weather held on and the beautiful dawn turned into a wonderful day. The lighting was so good that it was already possible to take some pictures of the traverse, a traverse that is certainly one of the most photogenic in all the Alps.
Current state of the Hinterstoiser traverse
This prosaic epithet describes a whole story - extreme hardship, exposure to danger, courage to move. But I would like to immediately take the opportunity to correct the misunderstanding: the Hinterstoiser Traverse is certainly one of the key stages of the ascent, but by no means the only one.
Traverse Hinterstoiser. Modernity. This impossibly huge Wall has numerous key locations that - thanks to the successful return of Rebic and Ferg - have now been explored to Zedlmeier and Mehringer's Deadly Boot. We did not yet know what key sections were waiting for us there, at the final stage of the ascent. So far we only knew that in all the Alps, this wall is a striking object for the admiring spectator and a lofty but expensive goal for the best climbers in existence.
Passage traverse
We made excellent progress, the weather was fine, and we had no doubt that we had a good chance of success; but we did not forget that the best of the best climbers had to retreat. Therefore, we equipped the "Swallow's Nest" for a possible escape route. The old rope, left in 1937 by the team on the traverse, was not enough to carry out the descent. We decided to accurately calculate the return route. In 1936, the lack of calculation proved fatal for a team of four climbers; a tragedy that reached its climax with terrible death Tony Kurtz.
Tony Kurtz
In the "Swallow's Nest" we left 100 meters of rope, hooks, rope loops, and provisions. It was July 21st, 1938. Exactly two years ago on this same day, Hinterstoiser spent hours desperately trying to get back up the traverse he himself had discovered. Everything was in vain.
E.Reiner and W.Angerer
He, and Angerer and Reiner with him, died on the same day. We were extremely saddened by these memories. If only those four climbers had left their fixed rope on the traverse, if they had had a long enough rope in the Swallow's Nest, if only… We should have thanked the dead for our knowledge. Memory made us think and grieve, but we did not flinch. Life has its own laws that we obey subconsciously. The predecessors showed us the way.
Routes: 1935 (green) 1936 (blue) 1938 (red)
Fritz put on his crampons and went out to the First Ice Field. There was no firn here, instead there was hard, brittle sinter ice. I estimated the slope at 50-55°, which is somewhat steeper than the average Pallavicini couloir on the Grossglockner.
Grossglockner. Couloir Pallavicini
Having gone the full length of the rope, Fritz cuts a large step and hammers in an ice hook to insure me when I climb. We were already beginning to realize that we had made a mistake in the calculations when we decided not to take my cats. Now, due to their absence, I had to strain my muscles as much as possible. Well, it's okay, my workouts are in different types sports came in very handy ...
On the First Ice Field
We were heading for a vertical takeoff, which leads from the First to the Second Ice Field. The only possible passage seemed to lie through the chute, later called the Ice Sleeve. This bridge between two ice fields is one of the many tricky traps on this Wall. Externally, the wall in the Dolomites is far more imposing than any bastion on the Eiger Wall. When I think of the big wall in the Dolomites, there are many sections on it that seem more difficult, steeper, more inaccessible than they really are. But when you touch a rock in the Dolomites, you immediately admire the rough surface, the horizontal hooks, the horizontal arrangement of depressions, and the reliable cracks and crevasses into which you can safely drive hooks. But here? The first illusion is that the ice-covered rock does not look particularly difficult. All you have to do is hammer a belay into it... but it's not possible to set up a belay on this wall! In fact, there is not a single crack for a reliable hook, and there is not a single suitable slot. In addition, the rock is polished by falling stones that fly down mixed with snow and ice and water flowing from the ice field. This is not an invitation to a merry climb, the wall does not inspire confidence; it simply threatens extremely difficult and dangerous climbing. But what can you do, this is part of the North Face of the Eiger, which we are trying to climb ...
In "Ice Sleeve"
"Ice sleeve" confirms its name. The rock was flooded with water and, in places, iced over. Water poured down under the frozen layer, between ice and rock, breaking out. The only way was through it. Water poured into the sleeves of our windbreakers, ran all over the body, fell into the leggings, which were supposed to separate our trousers from boots, and poured out in a matter of seconds.
F. Kasparek on ice
There was practically not a single gap in this gutter, consisting of ice, rock and water. The wall was rough and required excellent climbing technique and skillful, deliberate manoeuvres. Here Fritz also showed the highest class; but hours passed before we reached the Second Ice Field. We were soaked to the skin when we got there. It was still daytime. The Second Ice Field stretched high and wide above us. Our path went diagonally up to the left sharp ridge, nicknamed "Iron", in the direction of the last bivouac of Sedlmayer and Mehringen.
The huge ice apron looked small from where we stood; but even considering the optical illusion and remembering that it took five hours - twenty pitches - for such first-class ice experts as Rebic and Ferg - to reach its upper edge, we still had enough time to do this and probably even reach the “Bivouac of death". Yet we still had at least six hours of daylight. Despite this, we decided to climb not to the left, but to the right, to a small rock sticking out from under the snow above the upper edge of the Red Plumb. Fine afternoon allowed the sun to beat diagonally down on the top of the Wall, where "little icicles ring in streams." This is where avalanches start; and stones, once released from their icy confinement, have a habit of obeying the laws of gravity. Further along the route - because it was necessary to traverse diagonally across the Wall hundreds of meters across the ice fields - snow falls, rockfalls and cascades of water fell in a vertical fall from the "Spider". Admittedly, every stone finds a target.
But we prepared so carefully for our return trip to the Swallow's Nest not to be stoned or swept off the Wall by avalanches at that point. Falling rocks are on the list of "objective" climbing hazards, or in other words, as circumstances over which one has no control; but not tracking the movement of falling stones with the eyes is already a subjective factor of danger, the result of obvious irresponsibility or stupidity. This huge ice apron was a place to pass in the early morning. Even in this case, the danger from stones will not be completely eliminated, but it will be minimized.
G. Harrer at the First Bivouac
We reached the target rock and were able to score two safety hooks; then we spent several hours carving a small shelf in the ice just below. It was still daylight when we started finishing our bivouac. We tied ourselves and our belongings to safety hooks, put coils of rope under us, and began to prepare dinner. The rock afforded us complete protection from stones; The view from our overnight stay was magnificent.
F. Kasparek at the First bivouac
There were all conditions for a wonderful bivouac; but we were soaked to the skin. Still, although we had warm clothes and a change of underwear in our backpacks, we decided not to risk changing or pulling warm jackets over wet clothes. We did not know what the weather was capable of, or how often, where and under what conditions we would have the next bivouacs. So we had to keep our supplies dry for future nights; but it took a strong will not to get them out of the backpacks and put them on, even knowing that it was better to wait. The night was long, cold and uncomfortable. The bivouac turned out to be not as wonderful as it seemed at first. Only later did we realize that it was the worst on the whole Wall, despite its relatively good location. Our wet clothes made us doubly susceptible to the cold; our minds and souls were as outraged as our bodies, trying to cope with the discomfort. But every night ends someday. In the gray shroud of dawn, we began to gather, chattering our teeth, and prepared the ropes for the upcoming ascent.
Beginning of the ascent after the First Bivouac
The weather was still good, the cold had frozen all the stones, and we began to climb diagonally across the Second Ice Field. And only here we fully realized what a mistake we made by leaving my cats. Fritz compensated for this puncture with a huge expenditure of energy, as he had to cut steps in the ice. It was amazing to see how skillfully this best climber of Vienna wielded an ice ax. For hours on end, he rhythmically swung his ice ax to cut step after step, resting only on the belay points to receive me. And the steps were so good that the spikes on my sole stuck perfectly to them.
From top to bottom, the Icefield looks like a smooth surface; but this is pure illusion. Huge waves on the surface of the ice gave the impression that we were about to come to the safety of the rocks above; but we soon realized that we had just reached another bulge in the ice, and that further on there was another ice valley that we had to cross. It was a phenomenon that a climber so often encounters in the Western Alps when he mistakes one of the many snow ledges for the main peak. Equipped with the latest technology, the climber uses an ice ax as a guide of a bygone Alpine era. Speed is the essence of modern ascent; persistent, slow progress - a tribute to the classical past. We naturally spent a lot of time because we used the technique of the past. Even Rebic and Ferg had spent five hours a year earlier to cross this huge patch of ice. It took us exactly the same amount of time.
Just before the rocks separating the Second from the Third Icefield, I looked back down at our endless procession of steps. Above it I saw the New Age approaching at top speed, there were two men running - and I stress - running, not climbing. Admittedly, skilled climbers can move quickly over good steps, but for these two, reaching this point in the early morning was positively amazing. They must have bivouacked last night on the lower part of the wall; it was practically impossible for them to climb just today. But it was, in fact, the same case.
On the left is the exit route to the wall of Heckmaier-Fjörg, on the right - Kasparek-Harrera
These two were the best of all the "Eiger Candidates" - Heckmeier and Ferg - used their twelve-tooth crampons. I felt quite old fashioned in my old, nailed boots. We exchanged brief greetings; then they approached Fritz. I knew my friend and his respect for Alpine etiquette quite well; I knew that he preferred to choose his own routes, and that although he wore the noble badge of the Mountain Rescue Squad, he himself did not like to accept help.
Even to Heckmeier's apparently jocular question whether he would like to return, he replied with a strong Viennese catchphrase. But Anderl did not want to start a quarrel. He does not have a malevolent nature; moreover, Kasparek and Heckmeier had a deep respect for each other, and therefore the result of the meeting was neither discord nor competition, but a unity that was rarely found on this mighty wall. We, of course, continued to climb as two separate bunches, but now led by Heckmeier and Ferg. They later told us that they saw Fraisl and Brankowski return; after that, nothing held them back. They went to the wall early in the morning, and now they have already caught up with us. Now we're all moving together...
death bivouac
We moved up the steep buttress to the "Death Boot" at a synchronized pace. During our long afternoon rest, we felt like we were one team. Not a word of disappointment. It seemed like we had planned to climb together for a long time, and now, ultimately, we were all happy to unite. There were no differences of opinion regarding the further route. It led from our resting place diagonally down across the Third Ice Field to the foot of the "Ramp", a section of the wall rising sharply to the North-East Slope, along which Lauper's first ascent route ran; then from the top of the “Ramp” traverse to the right to the “Spider”; across the “Spider” and then along the exit crevices to the top firn crowning the final wall.
It all just seems easy to describe. In fact, each of the named plots has its own big question mark. But when I looked at my companions, Fritz, Anderl and Wigerl, I felt full confidence that any peak, the least suitable for climbing, could be easily climbed by our four. It might have been realistic to climb straight up the wall from the Deadly Boovouac to the Spider, but we couldn't get a close look at the wall because we were looking across the abyss.
Fog descends on the Eiger
The fog descended on the mountains, and began to slowly slide down, heading towards us. It was the mist that "there" is referred to as Eiger's "Cotton of Cotton" and it envelops every single peak. But this fact did not upset us much. It's one of Eiger's normal features to put on an afternoon nap cap, to the furious dismay of spyglass-eyed curious. Of course, we could not judge the strength of that disappointment, since the tickets and the people behind them in line were left far behind, and those who wanted to look at the Wall had to pay for a three-minute viewing, regardless of whether they saw anything anything or not. In the meantime, hidden from prying eyes, we were traversing the icy slope at 60 degrees to the beginning of the “Ramp”.
On the ramp
The "Ramp" looks no different from the rest of the Wall, but is still much more difficult than it seems. You cannot run up it as there are no foot or hand holds. Here the wall goes up steeply and breaks down in huge drops, and there are literally countless cracks into which you can drive a hook. In any case, I drove a good safety hook at the foot of the Ramp. I stood watching Fritz as he moved up in clear, rhythmic movements to a point about 25 meters above me. Suddenly he slipped. I can't tell if his arms got weaker or if he lost his foothold. Everything happened suddenly - once, and he is already out of sight. I leaned harder and waited for the worst. I knew that the hook was firmly packed and that it would not fail. And the safety rope wrapped around my shoulders must withstand the tug. Anyone walking without a safety net in this place would have fallen right down to the foot of the wall...
Walkthrough "Ramps"
Luck smiled upon us. The rope stopped the fall at a small snow puff, on the surface of the firn. The speed of Fritz's fall was such that the jerk, which I extinguished, was quite tolerable. But was Fritz injured? I soon calmed down. From below came a few words that only someone who knows Viennese slang well understands - selected strong expressions.
Then Fritz climbed again. Soon he was at the top of the "Ramp", moving on and on, as if nothing had happened, until I shouted to him that the rope was over. As I was climbing, I looked at the place where he fell off. Fritz flew 18 meters without touching the wall, straight from the diagonal of the "Ramp" and then confidently climbed back along a difficult crack. We did not remember this breakdown. Fritz was calm, like a player who rolls such dice during a game that it is necessary to return to the beginning in "Snakes and Ladders." We were not at all upset: we only laughed because we continued to enjoy life. No sentimental handshakes or hugs. Going back and doing it all over again is how we perceived it. It was in Fritz's nature to continue climbing after a fall, as long as he didn't hurt himself. And it was very natural for me to detain him, because that's what I was there for. Fritz was just the right partner for this big Wall. It seemed useless to him to burden his friends with “what if…” and “suppose that…”, arguments about “what could happen”, or the question “why did this happen?” What really mattered was that everything ended happily. Toward evening, all four were together again.
The passage of the "Ramp". Nowadays.
Above us, the "Ramp" ended in a narrow well with a crack coming out of it. The water washed out the crack. None of us bivouacked in wet clothes - ours had dried off during the morning as we crossed the Second Ice Field. We thought the day went pretty well. A crack would be a good prelude to the next day's work.
And we began to prepare a place to spend the night. This sounds pretty prosaic. And we thought it would be easy enough to find a place to bivouac when we looked at the "Ramp" in the photos or through the tube. We even thought we had marked these places. In fact, there were no places, not a single place. On the entire wall, acceptable shelves were rare.
A. Heckmeier and L. Ferg at the bivouac
We positioned our bivouac about 2.5 meters below that of Heckmeier and Förg. We managed to drive one single hook into a tiny gap in the rock. It was a thin horizontal hook. He entered only a centimeter, but firmly enough. Obviously, as soon as we load it with all our weight, it will work like a lever and can break free. So we bent it down until the ring touched the rock. So we did away with any questions about the lever and knew we could rely on our little gray steel friend.
At first we hung all our things on it and, after that, we became attached ourselves. There was no place to even sit down. The "ramp" was very narrow and steep at this point; but we managed to make a kind of seat with a lanyard, and hung our feet over the abyss. There was a tiny alcove next to me, big enough for our stove so we could make tea, coffee or cocoa. All of us were in dire need of liquid.
Chef Harrer
Heckmeier and Ferg were not much more comfortable. Ferg's attitude to rest, "King of the Bivouac," was quite remarkable; even in a place like this, he had no intention of sacrificing possible comfort. He changed into soft sheepskin coats, and the look on his face told us that he knew about such things. It would not be an exaggeration to say that we all felt quite comfortable and convenient.
Experienced climbers will understand my statement, non-professionals should just believe it. A famous philosopher, when asked what is true happiness, answered; “If you have some broth, a place to sleep, and no physical pain, you are on the right track.” We can add to its definition. “Dry clothes, a reliable hook and a precious life-giving drink - this is true happiness on the Eiger North Face.”
Yes, we were quite happy. This great Wall has brought our lives to common denominator. After cooking for many hours, we pulled on our sleeping bags and tried to find the most comfortable position so that we could at least take a nap. It was wonderful to meet the arrival of the night in dry clothes. We were at an altitude of about 1200 meters above the snowfields at the base of the wall; if one of us had fallen from this height, he certainly would not have survived. But who thought about falling? It was a good bivouac. Muscle pain and discomfort did not interfere with the flow of our thoughts.
When I fell asleep, I saw a picture, a happy, sunny picture of what happened to me when I was very young, not a mirage of a solid roof over my head or a warm bed, but a memory of one of my first trips to the mountains.
Peak of Mangart. Photo by M.Lipar
It happened when I was only 15. I climbed all alone to the summit of Mangart, a beautiful peak in the Julian Alps, and descended, very proud of my own great achievement. I came to a huge scree, quite simple, like all such in the Julian Alps, kilometers long. Down I went down through a narrow gorge, wandering along it for a long time.
The sun was beating down, and the tongue stuck to the sky. There, in the middle of the scree, I saw two eagles tearing huge pieces of flesh from the body of a chamois. The birds of prey reluctantly flew away when they saw me. I was so mesmerized by the view that I instantly forgot my thirst. I was young, and could not accept the fact that the death of one being meant the birth of another. I wondered if this was an immutable law of Nature? Was this true for humans as well as for animals? Every part of my being was against this notion.
Lake Weissenfelser
I went down to the shore of the lake Weissenfelser. There, by the lake, stood the shepherd's hut, next to the stream, ringing with a crystal stream of water. I leaned over and ran the water through my fingers. Then I drank and drank and drank…. Suddenly, I heard a rough voice behind me. A tall, gray-haired shepherd stood there, his sharply-shaped face scorched red by the sun. “Boy, why are you drinking water?” he asked. “There is cool milk and sour cream in my hut. You can quench your thirst by sitting in the house.”
I will never forget the old man who spoke rudely to me to do me a favor. For a couple of days I stayed at his place, ate and drank everything that his little farm produced, milk and cream, cottage cheese and cheese. He was a proud, hospitable man and, more importantly, educated and experienced, fluent in eight languages.
For many years he worked as a cook on a ship, plowed the oceans, and all the events of his life, in general, left good memories of his brothers. I remembered a terrible picture of eagles tormenting a dead chamois. And then I realized, with the receptive idealism of youth, that the cruelty of Nature should not manifest itself among people. People should be friendly...
Peak of Mangart and the lake
With these memories of the old man from the Weissenfelser lake, I fell into a deep and dreamless sleep. I don't know how long I slept like that. Suddenly, in a dream, I again saw the old man in front of me. His face was no longer kind; he got angry and tried to push me away. I tried to get rid of him, wanting to sleep more, but I couldn't, he was so strong. He grabbed me and gave me a good shake.
I was only half awake from sleep, but I still felt a hard pressure on my chest. It was a rope. In my dream, I slipped off my ledge, and hung with my whole mass on the rope. I already realized that I was on the “Ramp”, on the North Face of the Eiger, and that I should wake up, pull myself up and return to my sitting position; but I was too sleepy.
I vaguely understood that it was impossible to hang for a second longer on a hook that was only one centimeter driven into the rock; but I wanted to take a little more pleasant nap before correcting the situation. As a result, I fell asleep again...
As soon as I forgot, my dream returned. This time, the old man shook me so hard that I finally woke up. I got up in the stirrups and resumed my sitting position at that dizzying height on the little ledge. Fritz muttered something in his sleep.
Then I heard Andreas and Ludwig talking above me. Ferg seemed agitated and I asked what was wrong.
"Anderl is not well," he answered.
"He has an upset stomach because of the sardines he ate last night."
By that time I was fully awake. I was no longer cold. Next to me, in a niche, was a stove. “I'll make you some tea, Anderl,” I said. "It always helps." Tea is, of course, the king of all beverages. It helps with the cold, it helps bring down the high temperature, against discomfort and nausea, it copes well with fatigue and weakness. And in our case, tea also helped. The sardines settled in Anderl's belly.
We dozed and slept until the stars began to fade and the light of a new day began to break through the pre-dawn twilight. The night has receded; and she wasn't so bad. Ferg started cooking around four o'clock in the morning. Like everything else, he did it thoughtfully, slowly and carefully. He made a lot of oatmeal and coffee. It cheered us up and banished the cold.
Exit from the bivouac
It was already seven o'clock when we finally started to move up. Dealing with a crack in the well in the early morning was a severe physical test for bodies not yet stretched from a sitting night.
In the morning the route didn't get much easier than last night, except that the waterfall was frozen over. In its place, on the rocks, a thin crust of ice gleamed. Even Anderl, walking in front, seemed puzzled. Apparently he decided that he was directly the best way and walked straight up the well, driving in hooks wherever possible.
One of them seemed reliable enough. Anderl made his way higher and higher, demonstrating the highest technical aerobatics, cutting down the ice, and passing overhanging sections. He heavily loaded the hooks to test them, and they withstood the load. A second or two later, our friend hung safely on a good hook, on the negative section of the wall.
This will not work, Andreas Heckmeier decided: the canopies should not delay us. He really got very angry. So he put on his famous twelve-tooth crampons. Then he entertained us with a demonstration performance with elements of acrobatics that we had not seen before.
It was half superior climbing technique, half ice dance. He caught on a rock, held on to the ice, bent in half and straightened up, walking on the front teeth of crampons on the ice. They were only a few millimeters long, but that was enough.
Heckmeyer overcame this difficult section of the route, cut down steps and hammered pitons into the ice slope, and then received Ferg. We were still moving in two independent bunches.
Now it was Kasparek's turn to tackle the crack in the well. He didn't have any twelve-tooth crampons, but he had a completely different approach to the route. He went straight, avoiding the ice-covered rocks. Showing masterful climbing, he seemed to be climbing at home, and not on the big Eiger Wall.
Harrer on the wall
I went last. Then all four of us gathered together on the ice, looking up in incredulous surprise, struck by the menacingly overhanging wall of ice with a cornice against which the route rests, ice that blocked all further progress along the “Ramp”.
Would anyone even be able to climb it? The overhanging ice was over 10 meters high. I had never seen anything like it, and the others seemed astounded at first too. Shall we go to the left? No. On right? No. It just seemed like the best choice: but is this “best” option really real?
Heckmeyer made an attempt. He began to hammer hooks into the ice below the negative section. One of them entered crookedly. Then he cautiously began to make his way up. Icicles hung from the wall, on one of them he hung a noose and pulled himself up. It looked terrifying, but he ignored the danger; centimeter by centimeter, he moved up, but as soon as he hung with all his weight on the icicle, the pretty glitter broke off and he flew off ...
Hook survived.
Again we saw the same reaction as before. The failure sent Heckmeyer into a cold rage. He immediately tackled the overhanging patch again. This time, he did not trust the icicles with which the Architect of our mighty prison had adorned it. Was it really a trap? Was this the place where we would have to give up and turn back? No, our Andreas climbed up and got out of the trap, finding the “ice bracket”. An icicle, growing from top to bottom, connected with a ledge covered with ice and striving upwards - a stalagmite with a stalactite, both made of ice, merged into one. And this object, sculpted by nature, was intended to be the key to our prison door.
Heckmeyer looped through the brace, and leaning to the side almost horizontally, he made several holds with his ice ax where the ice flattened out. Then, grabbing the loop, he switched to the cut-out holds. I have never seen a site that looked so risky, dangerous and completely extraordinary.
Fritz, who knows many walls in the Alps, thought the famous overhanging roof on the Marmolada Pillar was child's play compared to this barrier. We were all extremely stressed. Ferg gripped the rope tightly, ready to hold on to Heckmeier at any moment if he slipped again.
But he didn't break.
We couldn't figure out how, but with a sort of dashing manner, he managed to insert the ice hook deep into the crack above the wall and thread the rope through the carabiner. Then he gave the order: “Choose!” Ferg pulled him up with a rope, along the wall, to the hook.
Heckmair used his ice ax a few more times. Then he said “Give it out!” Ferg loosened the rope so that Heckmeyer could get up, at the same time he was still watching closely in case he fell.
But Heckmeier was soon on the firn, he walked a few more meters up the slope above the wall, cut down a layer of firn and drove a safety hook deep into the strong ice. After that, as the final phrase to an unusually dramatic scene, we heard the long-awaited words: “Rise up!”
Railings are ready!
Our prison gates were open. Ferg broke out of the trap. The North Face of the Eiger is so vast, so difficult and so dangerous that any display of human vanity would be out of place. No doubt Fritz and I could have climbed the ice wall without any help from above, but it would have cost us precious hours that would come in handy later.
Therefore, Fritz did not hesitate for a moment and grabbed the rope that Ferg threw us. We, who followed him, were taken away thrill and adventure from this, the most difficult section on the Wall at the moment, we only felt the burden of work that was invested in its passage.
And I, as the last on the rope, had to knock out and bring all the hooks. I was adorned with them like a Christmas tree, and chains of iron hooks choked me as I climbed up. The ice slope above was easy compared to what we had just overcome. We walked quite a bit on the ice, and then immediately traversed to the right.
Wall. Photo by David Gladwin
Of course, for someone who has made a successful first ascent, it is quite easy to nod his head at the mistakes of those who follow him. I'm not going to do this. But I express surprise that so many of the teams that climbed the Wall after us went straight up the ice slope towards the North East Face and tried to traverse too high to the “Spider”.
This caused many delays and also led to the tragedy of 1957. It was very clear to the four of us that we needed to traverse to the right as soon as possible.
United Team at the Wall
So, we were traversing from the ice wall, four of us in one bunch, along the brittle belt of rocks below the overhanging cliff. By that time it was already noon, and we could hear the hiss of avalanches and the sound of rocks, but we were protected from danger by the overhang. While we were crossing these shattered rocks - Heckmeyer was about 60 meters ahead of me - we suddenly heard an annoying buzzing and howling sound.
It was not a rockfall, not an avalanche, but a plane flying very close to us. We could see the faces of the passengers quite clearly. They waved their hands in greeting, and we responded with friendly gestures. Hans Steiner, a Bernese photographer, was able to capture in those moments several photographs of unique documentary value.
A shot of the team from the airplane window
His photographs showed the three of us on the traverse while Heckmeier was already in the crack at the end of the traverse.
Exit to the "Spider"
That crack is the only possible variant lifting from the place where the brittle belt adjoins the wall, which ends the traverse to the “Spider”. Heckmeyer thought he could clear it with normal climbing; but every section of the Eiger Wall is more difficult than it looks, with tricky ledges where the snow has only stuck to the rocks, with precarious footholds and handholds that can let you down.
So, he had to leave his pack behind to make a second attempt at this stretch lightly. To do this, he put on crampons, knowing that icy patches are constantly found on the wall. It was a completely new type of climbing, this climb on a serious, even super-serious rock, overhanging in places - in crampons.
Heckmeyer was often on the verge of a breakdown, but somehow trained fingers held him when he thought he was running out of strength. The scratching of his cats against the hard rock was like an angry gnashing of teeth that only stopped when he disappeared from view above.
The three of us followed him without the cats.
The beginning of the passage of the "Spider"
It seemed to be years before we all passed the 30-meter vertical section of rock. But still not long enough for it to be dusk? It suddenly became very dark, although the clock showed that, despite the thickening mist, it was still early day. Heavy clouds piled up in the sky, and this time the thunderous roar that resounded through the rocks and echoed in hundreds of echoes was not the sound of an airplane flying dangerously close to us. It was real thunder.
By the time I caught up with Fritz, another bunch had gone ahead. They untied the common rope to get to the Spider before the storm hit.
The storm brought a dark, threatening, but majestic setting. A few minutes ago, the sun was shining, at least for the people down in Grindelwald. This sudden change was typical of the North Wall; and we were already so familiar with her whims that the approach of the storm caused no panic.
In fact, I regretted that there was no time to linger at the place where Fritz was waiting for me. There was something mysterious about that place; it was the first place, perhaps even the only one on the whole 1800m Wall, where you could feel comfortable. It would be gorgeous to sit and relax there, looking down from the great wall at the valley with the surrounding hills.
But the weather preyed on us and we followed the others.
On the traverse to the "Spider"
The rocky traverse to the “Spider” is clearly not a walk. But at least the rocks in this area are horizontal and the position of the holds is therefore favorable. And the patches of ice cutting through the rocks were solid enough for us to drive our pitons deep into them.
Not only is the traverse indescribably beautiful from an aesthetic point of view, it is also objectively amazingly safe, which we almost did not pay attention to due to the approaching storm. I can't remember who first gave it the name "Traverse of the Gods", but it's an appropriate name.
"Spider". Photo by Wendy Bumgardner
We reached the "Spider", a large ice patch on the Wall, quickly and without encountering any great difficulty. We did not have time to explore the area and landscape in more detail, the opportunity to spend on this time was missed. The sky, meanwhile, took on a blue-black tint, and then completely disappeared behind shreds of fog that washed over the Wall, then descending on us, then rising again to open the view for a second, and then turned into a thick blanket of clouds.
A storm began, it began to rain with snow; lightning flashed and thunder roared. We still saw Heckmeyer and Ferg, already on the way to the ice slope of the Spider, a pitch and a half away from us; we followed them.
"Traverse of the Gods" and "Spider". photo capgwlan
As I have already explained, the name "Spider" was given to this sheer patch of firn and ice, perched high on the nearly vertical Wall because of the white streaks radiating from it in all directions, like the legs of a spider or the toes of a palm. Especially many lanes go up - in cracks and couloirs to the snow cap of the summit - and down to the "Death Bivouac".
But no one guessed how true this name was, given even before we got there. We, too, did not realize this until we had passed the first pitch. We did not imagine that this "Spider" of snow, ice and rocks could become a deadly trap.
When hail or snow falls, ice and snow avalanches, rolling down from the sharp firn ridge of the peak, accelerate along the channels of cracks and couloirs, fly out to the “Spider” with acceleration, and there, merging in a furious desire for destruction, they sweep across the body of the “Spider” and, finally, they rush down, sweeping away and taking with them everything that is not part of the rock monolith.
Nor is there any way out of the Spider for those caught off guard by bad weather and avalanches.
We didn't know it then, but very soon we realized it.
Very soon.
Instantly...
On the "Spider"
I was already on the ice of the “Spider” and cut a good ledge on which I was able to stand quite firmly without crampons. I felt safe thanks to the securely packed ice hook. The rope was threaded through a carabiner hanging from Fritz's hook ring, which was advancing about 20 meters above me.
Its blurred silhouette was visible through the fog and falling snow. He soon disappeared from my view, swallowed up by the mist. The howling of the storm and the rattle of the hail were unsettling. I tried to peer through the gray curtains to catch a glimpse of Fritz, but in vain. Only dullness and haze... The howl of the wind intensified, rising to terrible notes - knocking and gnashing, whistling and hissing.
It wasn't the voice of a storm rising from a wild dance of ice and snowflakes, it was something else. It was an avalanche and, like its harbingers, stones and pieces of ice! I lifted the backpack over my head, gripping it tightly with one hand while the other held the rope that was reaching for my partner. I pressed myself against the ice of the wall just as the full weight of the avalanche came crashing down on me.
The rumble and clatter of rocks against my backpack was swallowed up by the roar and roar of the avalanche. She grabbed and pulled me with awesome force. Can I survive this pressure? Hardly... I was suffocating, trying, first of all, to hold my backpack, which was torn from my hands and also prevent the endless stream of rushing snow from cramming between me and the ice slope and squeezing me off my shelf. I didn't even know if I was still standing or rolling down. Did the ice hook survive? No, I was still standing and the hook was still secure, but the pressure was becoming unbearable.
Avalanche on the wall. Photo 1nick carter
And Fritz could break at any moment. Standing there in the open, he couldn't possibly resist the fury of the avalanche... it should have swept him out of its way... My thoughts were quite clear and logical, although I was sure that this avalanche should throw us all off the Spider. down to the base of the mighty wall.
I fought only because any person continues to fight as long as there is life in him. I still held the rope with one hand, determined to do everything in my power to keep Fritz. At the same time, I began to wonder if we were already so high on the “Spider” that it would not roll to the rocks, but would remain hanging on the ice slope, if it broke, it would fly past me and hang on the entire length of the rope twenty meters below?
And can I take the hit if Fritz crashes into me? All these thoughts were calm, without a hint of panic or despair. I just didn't have time for that. When will Fritz break down? It seemed that I stood in this crushing, flying Hell for many years. Maybe the stones broke the rope, and Fritz flew away, having lost his insurance? No, if that happened, the end of the rope would fall towards me. And it was still pulled up, so Fritz was still somehow holding on ...
The pressure eased, but I didn't have time to breathe or scream before the next avalanche followed. Her rage exceeded the fury of the first, she had to end us. Even this statement of fact was almost objective. It was strange that no important thoughts bothered me, such as the fact that I could achieve more in my life. There were no scenes from life running before my eyes.
My thoughts were almost trite, ridiculous and insignificant. I felt a little offended that the critics and wise men, as well as the Grindelwald gravedigger, who counted us, like all those who are trying to conquer the North Wall, among his clients, were right. Then I remembered the accident at the Western Wall of Sturzhan in the Toten Mountains, years ago.
I tried to climb that difficult wall in the winter and fell 45 meters. And in that case, my life did not flash before my eyes, and I also did not have a feeling of despair because I loved life very much. Does everything change when you cross that line? And now, I was still alive; my backpack still protected my head; the rope was still threaded through the carabiner; and Fritz hasn't fallen yet.
Then a new, incredible, and this time amazing realization came to me. The pressure of the avalanche stopped. Snow and ice rang far below. Even the furious roar of the storm seemed like a gentle whisper now that the avalanche had subsided.
And then, vibrating through the gray fog, the first screams were heard, picked up by the cliffs surrounding the "Spider" and reported to people who were barely able to realize the incredible truth. Names were called out and voices answered, “Fritz! Heini! Anderl! Wigerl!” I realized that we are all alive. They were all alive, and so was I. Eiger's biggest miracle happened. "White Spider" took no victims.
But was it really a miracle? Was the mountain good? Was it true to say that the “Spider” spared the lives of its victims?
Aiger. Photo Lawrie Brand
Climbers are not superhumans, they are quite prosaic people. Such reflections can only be explained by the first burst of joy at the return to life; they don't have a chance to sober our worldview. Miracle and mercy are out of fashion in nature, especially in the mountains, today were the result of a person's desire to do the right thing even in moments of the most terrible danger.
Is it possible to say that we are just lucky? A famous person once said: "In the end, the one who fights to the end is lucky." I'm not so presumptuous as to say that we climbers always make the most of every opportunity. But it seems to me that one of the statements of Alfred Wegener fits our situation on the Eiger's Spider in the best possible way.
He said: "Luck is the last bullet in the drum." Our revolver was empty…. Kasparek was standing 20 meters above me on the ice slope. When he heard the avalanche approaching, he instantly tried to hammer the ice hook. He didn't have time to be scared even for a split second. The hook was driven only a few centimeters into the ice, and very loosely, when the first avalanche began. Despite the danger, even as the avalanche roared down on him, he thought of the unfinished hook. It had to be hammered securely, it had to not break out under the impact of cascading masses of snow and ice, and falling stones; so Kasparek held it, covering it with his hand.
Stones hit him on the arm, tearing off the skin. He was in terrible pain, but his desire to hold the hook was greater. And during the short break between the first and second avalanche, he drove the hook into the ice to the ring, and quickly snapped his lanyard into it. And that is why Fritz did not break ... And only later, when the tension of the moment passed, I remembered that I, too, fastened my lanyard to my hook for greater reliability during the same break.
The avalanche took Heckmeyer and Ferg by surprise, on a rocky ledge, about 20 meters below the cliff overlooking the Spider. Due to the shape of the ledge, the avalanche split into two separate streams not far from them, but the snow and ice chips flying down each of them were strong enough to sweep the climbers out of their way. None of them could arrange a self-insurance by throwing a hook, not only because there was no time, but also because they did not have a single hook.
The whole collection was then on me: thanks to the fact that I was the last in the bunch, I carried about 9 kilograms of iron, which I knocked out of the rocks and ice. Heckmeyer only had an ice ax to hold on to. A river of ice washed up to his thighs and threatened to carry him away like a fallen leaf; but he managed to withstand the furious pressure. At the same time, he proved himself to be a reliable teammate and an outstanding leader of the ascent. Despite his own unfortunate situation, Heckmeier took the time to think about his other half, standing below him on the open hilltop.
Grabbing the ice ax with one hand like an anchor, with the other he grabbed Ferg by the collar and held him tightly. And that's how they both survived the avalanches. Only now, with the danger behind him, did Fritz feel a sharp pain in his torn-off arm. Only then did he call out to Heckmeyer and Ferg. "Drop the rope to me, I'm hurt."
It took a long time to tie the ropes and throw them down to where Fritz was standing. And even then, 10 meters were not enough, so Kasparek had to climb this distance without insurance. How right Wegener is! Luck is really the result of the last stock, the last cartridge in the clip. This is how Heckmeyer described the end of the avalanche and his joy at finding that we were still alive:
Gradually it became lighter, and the pressure weakened. We already understood, but still could not believe that everything ended well. But what about others? The fog cleared - and there - "Wigerl", I shouted. “They are still holding on!” It seemed unreal, a real miracle. We began to shout, and they answered us. An indescribable joy swept over us. Only then do you feel how strong the spirit of camaraderie can be when you again see friends whom you considered already dead ...
We all got together on top of the Spider. Our feeling of delight when looking at the faces of our comrades was indescribable. As a confirmation of our friendship, we decided to again connect the four of us with one rope and follow this way to the very top.
And Anderl must be our leader. The avalanches of the Spider were not able to blow us off the Wall, but they succeeded in sweeping away from us the last, small remnants of our mean and selfish ambitions. The only counterbalance to this majestic wall was the tested strength of friendship, aspiration and understanding that each of us gives our best. Each of us was responsible for the lives of others, and we no longer wanted to walk apart. We were filled with sincere joy. It made us more confident that we would climb the Wall to the top and find our way back to the valley where the people lived. In such high spirits, the group continued their ascent.
Our ascent was brightly publicized and attracted public interest, although we did not know this then, and did not stir up interest in our ascent; but it is curious to note how the events on the North Wall were refracted in the eyes of observers from below.
They look at us through binoculars, pipes of hundreds of eyes ...
Here is how Ulrich Link, a well-known Munich journalist, reported his observations at Klein Scheidigg:
On Saturday at about 12.30 pm, a change in the weather on the Eiger was noticed. A slate-grey, menacingly dark cloud covered the Lauterbrunnen Valley. At this time, these four climbers, after five hours of incredible effort, crossed the "Diagonal Corridor", perhaps the most difficult section on the entire Wall ...
At one o'clock all four walked in single file along the left edge of the snowy field. Heckmeier, a guide by trade and probably the most knowledgeable and experienced on the ice, led the way. For half an hour, the cloud hid the climbers from our eyes. At about 13.30 the Wall was again lit up with light. By that time they had passed the "Traverse of the Gods", and the first one had already reached the exit to the snowfield, called the "Spider". Heckmeyer had a superb lead - he was first all day - towards the Spider. Kasparek and Harrer, meanwhile, were resting at the exit to the snow. From 15:00 to 15:30, the Wall once again wrapped itself in a cloud. Then the sky cleared up again, everyone rushed to the telescopes.
At the telescope
The leader of the second bunch was traversing from the rocks along the “Spider”. At this time, Heckmeier reached the exit of the rocks in the upper part of the snowfield. The second bunch moved more slowly, but just as confidently and cautiously as the first. Heckmeier and Fjorg now reached 3600 meters, it was 15.50. The clouds closed the wall again, and we were cut off from them, along with our fears and hopes. The summit was still over three hundred meters above the four men.
The weather turned bad again. Hour after hour, the tedious waiting lasted, and it was impossible to foresee whether it would all end well or badly. The valley of Lauterbrunnen lay under a dirty gray veil; The Jungfrau and Münch were wrapped in clouds. The glaciers gleamed light blue and bluish green. Sometimes a patch of blue sky opened between rain clouds. Grosse Scheidegg, somewhere on the horizon, was still clearly visible, but the weather was inexorably worsening.
Meanwhile, the second team was supposed to be in the Tube on the Spider. At 16.25 a light rain began, and exactly five minutes later a heavy, noisy downpour, as if the clouds had broken through. The downpour must have hit the Wall and those four climbers like a tsunami. A hint of muffled anxiety broke through the embarrassed murmur of voices. The entire North Wall turned into a raging waterfall in an instant. The water rushed down the cliffs in ten or fifteen wide streams of white foam.
Fans
A marvelous rainbow flashed and arched wide over the Alpine valley by the river; but no one had leisure to follow this amazing play of light. Up there, two men must be standing on the snowy slope, resisting the violent force of the flood pouring down on them.
Will they be able to hold on? Finally, the cloud lifted. Everyone turned to the telescopes. Here it is, a huge snowy slope ... and here are the climbers, both climbing slowly and confidently. They survived the storm. Ferg and Heckmeyer were probably in a more protected area, since they managed to run to the rock at the edge of the snowfield.
But then the clouds descended again ... At 18.45 all four men reunited and moved to the upper edge of the snowy field. At 7 pm they reached it; at 20 they were still pushing further, either because they still hadn't found a bivouac spot or decided to keep going while daylight allowed to get as close to the summit as possible. Now they had reached 3,700 meters, rising high above the Spider, a wonderful job done in fourteen hours.
At 20.20 it started to rain again. During short intervals, when the gaps in the clouds allowed, we watched the climbers rise higher and higher. At 9 pm they were still moving, probably preparing their lodging for the night; a third bivouac for Kasparek and Harrer, and a second for Förg and Heckmeier. Of course, it will be a cruel test, in wet clothes, in a place absolutely unsuitable for rest. But all four are hardened like steel...
Ten o'clock. The wall is plunged into darkness. From now on, these four men must endure the long hours of the night; they have enough provisions for six days. They might be able to get some sleep and probably squat around their kitchen and make hot tea and heat up the food. Now there can be no question of retreat ...
That report from a knowledgeable and experienced journalist is an accurate statement of the facts, even for a climber; and although it is written in a manner that would capture even a non-professional, but without inappropriate drama, and without cheap sensations sucked from the finger. The truthful presentation of the facts, the successful observations of nature, the parsimonious description of the Wall are sensational in themselves.
But Ulrich Link was wrong about one thing. We couldn't sit down by our kitchen. There was no place for this, although cooking was of no small importance. As for the location of our bivouac, with the exception of the area above the crack leading to the "Traverse of the Gods", there is not a single place where one can sit or where one can bivouack without careful preparation.
After we got through the ice, we came upon a rock ledge, protected by an overhang from falling rocks and avalanches. When I say ledge, I don't mean a flat, comfortable shelf to sit on; it was too narrow and sharp for that. Heckmeyer found a place where he could securely drive a hook in, then patiently found a few more cracks where he managed to drive the hooks to hang all the things, as well as secure himself and Ferg.
Bivouac
There was no room for us. Fritz and I made our nightly abode about three meters apart. The ledge was hardly the width of a boot, and only allowed us to stand upright, firmly pressed against the rock, but we managed to drive in a hook on which we could organize a belay.
And even after that, we still could not sit, the shelf was so narrow. But still we found a solution. Taking the contents out of our backpacks and hanging everything on the hook, we were able to put our feet in the backpacks and hold on. We were sure that this way we would last all night, and so it turned out. Between us and our friends, we pulled a railing rope, along which a pot of food cruised back and forth.
Ferg took on the important role of cook for the expedition. So, even if we weren't able to sit down as Link imagined it, the simmering of Ferg's pot put us in a good mood. Neither of us wanted any solid food, all we needed was a drink. So Ludwig brewed coffee for hours on end. Once another portion was ready, he took a sip, and then passed it to us in turn.
Fritz, like a true crown, was a connoisseur of coffee, and even he honored Ludwig's brew with praise. But good coffee needs a cigarette if you smoke, and Fritz was the only real smoker among the four of us. Unfortunately, his cigarettes could not stand the torrents of rain, hail, snow, they were wet and crumpled.
Fritz, who did not utter a word about his well-being, did not complain because of the severe pain in his injured arm, relaxed at the thought of cigarettes: “Oh, if only I could light a dry cigarette with dry matches ...”
I would have given anything to fulfill Fritz's wish, but I had no cigarettes. Then I remembered how I met Fritz Kasparek for the first time. It was in the early thirties when I was a young student with a great desire to climb but no money. Those were the days when everyone, in one way or another, invented the possibility of being in the Dolomites for a few weeks with only thirty shillings in their pocket.
Dolomites
The bicycle was the only means of transportation and since everyone had to have a license to ride it in Italy and since a license cost money we walked for hours to get from one mountain range to another. One day I left my bike at the border and walked through Italy.
There is a song of the old tramps by Ermann Lons, which sings: “I will never, never give up.” I was hungry and even more thirsty, but I was mindful of my thin purse as I passed hotels and shops with the finest fruits and delicacies in their windows.
A traveler approached me. He also had a huge rucksack, a typical climber's rucksack; he also had a shock of blond hair, a pair of amazing eyes, and a tanned face. We appreciated each other, mutually recognized a kindred spirit in each other, nodded.
Then the fair-haired one, heading towards the Austrian border, said hello: “Hello, who are you? Where? Where?"
“I am Heini Harrer from Graz,” I told him, “I am heading for the Dolomites.”
"And I'm Fritz Kasparek from Vienna." Fritz Kasparek... I already knew that name. He was one of the most daring and experienced climbers in Vienna.
This Viennese youth climbed the pillar on the Marmolat, the North Face of West Zinn, the North Face of Admonter Reichenstein,
Massif Admonter Reichenstein
countless other very difficult and new routes. He was only a year or two older than me, but I called him "Sir" out of respect for his well-known reputation.
"Nonsense," he said, shaking his head. "I'm Fritz, and you're Heini, that's all." And then bluntly: “Do you want to eat? Drink? No money, huh?” I nodded. Kasparek took off his backpack, waved it temptingly towards the grass on the edge of the road, sat down and took out a huge bag of magnificent pears and peaches.
“Eat!” he suggested. I didn't expect a second invitation. We ate all the fruits, legs, leaves and seeds, and I must honestly admit that Fritz ate half as much as I did. He laughed, stood up and shook my hand. “I hope,” he said, “we will meet again.” He headed towards the Austrian border, and I stood looking after him for a long time.
I did not suspect then - and it would not have been Fritz Kasparek if he had said a word about the fact that he bought those fruits as provisions for a trip to Vienna for his last pennies. As a result, he had to pedal his bicycle 480 kilometers to Vienna penniless and without any food.
Perhaps he used his shameless Viennese charm to get an invitation from one or two farmers for a glass of milk, I don't know. But the reader will understand how much I regretted then, being on the North Face, that I could not hand Fritz a pack of dry cigarettes and say: “Smoke!” - just as he once handed me a bag of fruit on a hot highway and said: “Eat!”
With such sunsets on the Eiger, the team was not lucky
It was 23:00. Ludwig stopped cooking and "retired to rest." Even here, at this altitude of 3750 meters, and 1500 meters from the nearest horizontal surface, he could not refuse comfortable slippers. Andreas hung on the hooks to keep him stable on the wall, his head resting on Ferg's broad back.
The next morning we found Ferg sitting still, not moving, so that Heckmeier's sleep was undisturbed. Fritz and I pulled on sleeping bags and tents; tucked their feet into the backpacks supporting us, and very soon I heard the deep, even breathing of my friend sleeping next to me.
Through a small window in the tent, I saw that there were no stars in the sky, and the weather was still bad, it was snowing. There was an occasional small avalanche of snow, but the snow slid across the fabric of the tent, with a gentle rustling sound, as if someone had stroked it with a hand... I wasn't worried about the weather. I was seized with a sense of complete peace, not resignation to our lot, but the certainty that, no matter what the weather, we would reach the summit tomorrow and then plunge into the safety of the valley.
Dream Eiger by Anthony "Ginger" Cain
This sense of peace has grown into an awareness of happiness. People often experience happiness without realizing it; only later do we realize that at one point or another we were happy. But here, at our bivouac, I was not just genuinely happy; I also understood it. This, the third bivouac for Fritz and myself on the North Face, was the least convenient in terms of accommodation; despite this, he was the best.
And if you ask why - the reason was the rest, the peace, the joy, the great satisfaction that we all enjoyed there. If, during those long hours when we were cut off from outside world one of us has given up or lost patience with the other; if, driven by the instinct of self-preservation, one of us thought about trying to save his own life by abandoning the others, no one would blame him.
His teammates will not turn their backs on him, although they may be cooler towards him in the future. If, down in the valley, people meet him joyfully and with all honors, his friends will never say a bad word. But that special happiness that is born in the unity of a common impulse will bypass it and will not bring joy.
All four of us at that bivouac at the Eiger Wall were happy. Even if it was snowing, and snowflakes flowed like a waterfall over our tents, but our happiness was inextricably linked with all this. It allowed me to think about good things, and helped me sleep…
Eiger is a mountain of happiness. Artist Anthony "Ginger" Cain
Testing oneself is an expression no doubt an exaggeration of a healthy, honest experience, and contrary to the cold calculation that every climber gives to himself. But the main mistake is to assume that this extreme test of oneself is the main driving force of mountaineering.
This is an assumption invented by the last ignoramuses, because they could not think of any better explanation for what they themselves cannot understand and what they have never personally experienced. I really can't help but smile when I imagine Fritz Kasparek's face if one of those know-it-alls asks him if he climbed to prove himself.
The interviewer would no doubt have retired, uncomfortably crushed by the caustic reply couched in those famous Viennese words that are so hard to translate into standard German. Of course, no climber makes a difficult climb to test himself.
If, during extreme danger on the mountain, he thinks first of his tie-mates, if he subordinates personal well-being to the common good, then he automatically passes the test; and thus will pass it in any of the calamities that occur, flood or fire. Such a man would certainly not whistle past wounded people on the road; he would help. It is very important for him to realize that he did everything he could.
A passionate desire to prove his exclusivity can never be the main driving force that makes him conquer the most difficult peaks. I am very annoyed by those hacks who characterize climbers who climb extremely difficult routes as mentally deranged.
I can't imagine more normal men than my three companions on the Eiger. Yes, the situation in which we found ourselves was not very trivial; but the reaction of my friends at this unusual moment was perfectly normal.
Fritz wanted dry cigarettes; Ludwig changed into comfortable, soft bivouac slippers; and Andreas, hammering his hooks into the wall, protected by Ludwig's broad back, slept peacefully.
Sleep on the North Wall. Artist Horsley Freya
The peace and harmony of that night under the open sky allowed me to rush away into the twilight world between waking and sleeping. My body, almost devoid of spirit, was at rest. The cold did not bother; it served only as a reminder that I was hanging on a huge mountain wall, and was in a somewhat cramped position, held hostage by a backpack, in our bivouac.
But that didn't bother me either. Here, as elsewhere in life, happiness was born out of contrast. After our experience with the avalanches a few hours earlier on the Spider, camping for the night seemed like heaven to us. I woke up to a significant snowfall above our tent.
Dawn flickered through a small window; a new morning was approaching.
Unfortunately, it was not illuminated by the magnificent play of the light of the rising sun, nor by the clear, light blue sky, in which the stars were clouded by the light of a new day; his approach was a haze emerging from a gray mist. Having pulled off our sleeping bags, we got into winter.
The snow continued to fall, and everything sharp or angular was plastered with fresh snow. The ledge on which we spent the night also disappeared into the snow. Our friends, a few meters below, looked like marble sculptures frozen on plinths. The idea that in this absolutely wild nature, people survived, and even planned to get out of here, on the same day, from this trap on a vertical rock, polished with ice and covered with snow, seemed ridiculous.
But we were really alive; and we not only planned to climb up from here, we were sure that we could do it. We heard the roar of the storm howling on the ridge above us. Where we stood, there was no wind. Only avalanches coming down and rushing past us gave birth to wind.
We studied their schedule and planned our actions in accordance with the knowledge gained. It was terrifying to even think about the deplorable state we might be in if we were up there on the Wall, if we still had to pass the ice slope of the Spider. Those small landslides that flew at us from the crest were only the beginning of large avalanches, which, having been fed by numerous couloirs above, were now rushing along the slopes of the “Spider”.
We were lucky to get to the height at which we now were. But we soon realized that our hanging night would seem like an easy test compared to what we still have to deal with today. We were in good shape. The pain in Kasparek's hand seemed to subside.
Thanks to Ferg's broad back, Heckmeier had a great night's sleep. Ferg has already taken over his post as cook. He brewed a whole pot of coffee, melted chocolate in condensed milk, and all in all made a wonderful and hearty breakfast. During the absorption of this magnificence, we held a council of war. The weather has changed, as we expected - for the worse. She was as bad as ever when people stayed on the Wall for days on end. We had enough food and fuel to bivouack for several days.
But how will this help us? Even if the weather improves tomorrow or in a day or three days, the condition of the Wall will not improve immediately, the rocks will return to normal only a few days after the bad weather. Shall we allow ourselves to be exhausted by sitting and waiting? "It's better to break loose than to freeze." This is the saying of Michel Innerkofler, the oldest known dynasty of guides in the Dolomites. We didn't think about falling, and even less about retreating because the Wall was dressed in winter clothes.
We decided to move on. Once the decision was made, I reduced the weight of our backpacks, dropping down into the abyss that part of the equipment and provisions that seemed superfluous. Among other things, there was a whole loaf of bread, which disappeared at great speed into the mist below us.
I grew up in harsh conditions and had never thrown away a single piece of bread before; but now this action seemed to me almost symbolic - we cut off the path to retreat. “Forward” was now the only way; there is no going back. The past was forgotten and only the future mattered; and the future lay along the snow-covered, ice-covered wall to the top.
It seems to me that not a single person can gather all his will, all his aspiration, all his energy into a fist for a decisive desperate throw, until he is convinced that the last bridge behind him has been burned and there is nowhere to retreat, only forward movement is possible.
We moved on. Anderl will lead us to the top of the Wall; this would be Heckmeier's stellar day. Today, as I sit and write these lines, I firmly believe that we would all have got off the Wall safely, even if Heckmeyer had not been ahead; Fritz would have been able to walk the Wall alone, despite his injured arm.
But, without Anderl's leadership, we would never have done it so wonderfully, and we would probably have to spend the night on the Wall again. I think it would not have ruined us, we were all prepared enough, strong and cheerful in spirit, to survive even more. But will we be one iota worse, or will the crown fall off our heads if we, with due admiration, admit that one of us was the best?
We again tied the four of us with one rope. The order was now: Heckmeier, Förg, myself and Kasparek, who was the last to go today, so as not to choose the rope with his injured hand. Heckmeyer ran into problems from the very beginning.
The first decision to be made was which of the two routes to take? A fireplace with overhanging ice that looked damned complicated but protected from snowfalls; or up the steep, ice couloir to the left of the fireplace, along which, from time to time, small avalanches descended? He chose the fireplace, and Ferg belayed him through an immediately hammered hook.
But the fireplace proved so difficult that even Heckmeyer's skills were useless. So, he had to go back and try the couloir climb, first studying the avalanche schedule.
Climbing the couloir
The snow continued to fall, and now that it was daylight it was wet, heavy snow, the kind that slips easily and adds speed to avalanches. But even without avalanches, the couloir was so difficult that even Heckmeier fell off it twice, and only on the third attempt, having gathered all his strength for the attack, he was able to climb the crest of the rock to the left of the couloir.
There he knocked down snow and ice with the blows of an ice ax and cut down a comfortable step for his feet.
"Get in," he said. Ferg climbed up, and we followed him. Then Heckmayer continued to climb the route, which demanded from us the full return of forces. He couldn't afford to waste time, because he had to get to the next safe spot between avalanches before another avalanche hit. True, there were no safe places here; a step in the ice, a belay hook, was the best we could hope for here.
But the higher we climbed, the thinner the layer of ice in the couloir became; so thin that it was no longer possible to cut the steps, and the ice stopped holding the hook. The steel blades cut through the ice, hit the rock below it, and just bounced off.
Bad weather...
We all walked on the same rope. If the first fell off and the second couldn't hold him, I would be the one to try to prevent the fall. And if they pulled me off behind them, then all the weight would fall on Fritz.
We knew that no man could have kept three of them in that area. No one knew this better than Heckmeier, who was moving fast, and in doing so, had to move as reliably as possible. He seemed to be trying to bring us liberation.
And once we were on the verge of death. I was standing on a small hill with Fritz below me. Förg stood 30 meters above me, belaying Heckmeier as he struggled against the icy rock, treacherous ice couloirs, snowfalls high in the mist above us, and falling snow.
We couldn't see one or the other. Fritz joined me on my high ground. Ferg's command to ascend has not yet come. We heard voices and short, muffled screams. What went wrong there? And then we heard only indistinct muttering.
At that moment, a layer of snow descended on us. It was nothing special, and we are already quite used to it; but the snow was not pure white. The snow was covered in blood. Definitely blood, because the next thing that came over us was a pack of bandages and a small, empty medicine bottle.
"Hey!" we shouted. "What happened?" No answer. We waited for what seemed like an eternity, tormented by doubt and anxiety. Then, according to the schedule, the next avalanche rushed with wild force. Only when it passed did we hear a command inviting us to move on.
Ferg chose the rope so hard that I was out of breath. But I understood how hard it was for him to work with the icy rope. There was no time to climb carefully, according to the rules. Time became our motto if we planned to get off the Wall.
And obviously something happened up there that caused a big delay. What could it be? When I reached the point where Ferg stood, a stone fell from my soul.
L. Ferg on the wall
They were both alive and not seriously injured. Ferg's arm was bandaged with a blood-stained bandage, but Heckmeyer was already a rope higher, on a tiny, cut-out, fragile platform.
Later, he told in his dry but picturesque way how Ferg got his injury: -
Wet snow fell heavily. There has been no avalanche for a long time. Therefore, quickly, under a canopy! Damn... the ice on the rock has thinned and the hooks no longer hold. On the second hit, they go right through the ice and bend over the rock.
I could stand on a small ledge only by placing my legs together in crampons, because the strip of old ice in the couloir was very narrow, and the flow ice that covered the rock was too hard, smooth and thin. The tip of the ice hook, which I held on to with all my strength, entered to a shallow depth, as did the beak of my ice ax. Suddenly, the hook flew out, and at the same time my ice ax popped out.
If my legs were wide apart, I might have kept my balance. But with my legs together, there was no hope .. I shouted, “Hold it, Wigerl!” And broke. Wigerl seemed to be standing securely. He recoiled as far as possible, but I flew straight at him - not through the air, since the couloir was not sheer, but glided across the ice with lightning speed.
As soon as I fell, I began to kill myself so as not to fly head over heels. Wigerl let go of the rope and caught me with his hands, and one of the teeth of my crampons pierced his palm. I started to tumble, but in a fraction of a second I managed to grab the rope from the safety hook, and this allowed me to jump to my feet.
I plunged all twelve teeth of my cats into the ice - and resisted. The force with which I crashed into Wigerl knocked him off his feet, but he also managed to linger, and here we were about a meter below the station on steep ice without any foot steps. One big step and we are back to the place of insurance.
The hooks flew out and I immediately killed them again. All this took only a few seconds. Reflex saved us; our friends, standing with a rope below and connected with us, did not even notice that something had happened. If we had not stopped our fall, we would have pulled them off the Wall after us.
Meanwhile, Wigerl took off his mitten. Although the blood spurted out, it was dark in color, which means it couldn't be a ruptured artery. I glanced quickly up at the wall; thank God, there was not yet another avalanche flying down. Taking off my backpack, taking out a bandage, I bandaged Wigerl's hand. He was very pale; in fact, if it was of any color at all, it was green.
“Are you not feeling well?” I asked.
“I don't know myself,” he answered. I stood up so that he could not fall, and urged him to immediately gather his strength. And that's when a small jar of heart drops from the first aid kit came in handy.
Dedicated Dr. Belart of Grindelwald made me take them with me in case of emergency, adding: “If Tony Kurtz had these drops with him, he might have survived that ordeal.” And we were supposed to use them only in case of emergency. On the bottle was written ... "ten drops." I simply poured half the contents into Wigerl's mouth and drank what was left myself, because I was thirsty.
We ate a few glucose tablets, and soon returned to normal. It was the time of the avalanche, but I did not see any signs of its approach. “Listen, I'll try again,” I told him. "Okay," he replied, "but please" - and his voice was still weak - "don't use me as a mattress again."
I moved up, and coped with a difficult wall, this time absolutely safely, passing a section without intermediate hooks in order to slip through this really difficult and dangerous section of the route as quickly as possible. I climbed about 30 meters - almost the full length of the rope, not finding a place to stop; but at least I managed to score one small hook at the end.
And just when Heckmeyer got there, at the moment when he secured himself on a dainty little hook, an avalanche came down, which shocked us with its view below, as I have already described.
She did not manage to take Heckmeier and Förg with her, and none of us, but it was still a long time before I was close to Förg and I managed to receive Fritz. Ferg, with the help of a rope, hastened to join Heckmeyer.
I vnatyag chose Fritz. In fact, we all pulled each other up as time slipped away and the section to be climbed was dangerous, sheer and difficult; And we still didn't know how things would turn out. I have never been on an ascent where there would be such races and competition over time, as on this Eiger.
This final wall, clad in chain mail of ice and snow, challenged the leader as he blazed the trail inch by inch. We were moving forward. The snow was falling non-stop. Visibility was barely more than the length of the rope.
Suddenly, through the cloud and the swirling flakes, we heard screams coming towards us, though we couldn't tell exactly where they came from. The screams could have come from the summit, or from the Western Slope. Somehow, they were getting closer. We agreed, immediately, not to answer. Whoever was calling us, they were too far away to make out exactly what we were shouting back. Our cry might start a rescue operation which, once set in motion, could not be stopped without consequences. It could be a long descent for someone from the top into the valley, the rescuers going out, the beginning of the ascent… one of our shouts could start the whole process if they misunderstood us… even if we just shouted a greeting…
So, we climbed with Anderl at the head. Minutes turned into hours. We went up, meter by meter, rope by rope. And then we heard screams, this time more distinct and closer. We could discern that these were not the same voices as before. Again, we didn't answer. We learned later that the first voices were the screams of Fraisl and Brankovski, who were very worried about our fate and screaming down from the Wall. The second time it was Hans Schlünegger, the Oberland's most famous guide, yelling down to ask if we needed help. True, he and the two fellows from Vienna were equally convinced that at present the bad weather on the snow-choked Wall made it impossible to give us any help; but he and our friends were equally ready to help us, or save us, as soon as the weather improved.
Before going to the ice dome
In this regard, I must emphasize again the selfless readiness of the local guides. These two teams reached the summit on their own, using the relatively easy classic Northwest Face route, but immediately returned without receiving any response from us. Obviously, after the hopeless news brought by those who climbed to the top to look for us, the chances that we are still alive have plummeted.
Despite everything, we were still alive and continued to climb. The steepness of the couloir has decreased. Avalanches could no longer hurt; they were still weak here. And then we left the couloir on the ice slope.
It was the Pre-top ice field. If we hadn't just left the Eiger Wall behind, we could say that this course is steep; now it seemed horizontal to us. The final couloir was behind us; we got out of the clutches of the "Spider". It was noon when Heckmeyer came out onto a gentle ice slope.
An hour later, the last of us arrived safely there. Only the ice slope now separated us from the ridge leading to the summit. We did not traverse left to the ridge, but climbed diagonally to the right, following the direction to the summit.
Only the icy slope of the summit remained.
Even this last argument from Eiger is not a joke. Wet snow did not adhere tightly to the firn and the ice underneath; he periodically slipped down. This is the cause of the Eiger avalanches. We did not dare to hasten our assault. The thought firmly seated in our minds that the Wall has not yet let us go, did not allow us to relax and stroll carelessly.
Anderl was still at the head, he walked as prudently and carefully as always. He knew that a change in leadership would be accompanied by rope manipulation and loss of time; but the first one had a positive factor - he could catch his breath, waiting for us to follow the rope, while we were out of breath. At the same time, it testified to his efficiency.
In this place, I especially felt the absence of cats. Despite the fact that Heckmeyer cut down, where necessary, huge steps for me, despite the fact that Ferg carefully chose the rope that went to me, I could not afford the slightest mistake. I dared not slip; but it required a great return of strength to hold on only with spikes on my soles.
Bad weather. photo hwackerhage
The snow was falling harder than ever. And at the same time, the flakes no longer fell vertically, but flew almost horizontally, driven by the wind. The ice slope seemed endless. Another two hours flew by. Then something happened, in a way amusing, if it did not mean a moment of mortal danger.
Heckmeyer climbed up the slope in fog and snow blizzard hitting his face. The slope became less sheer, but as he walked upwind and unable to see anything, he did not notice it. Ferg, following him, suddenly saw dark spots in front of him. No - not in front - under your feet. Very, very far down...
These were the rocks on the South Side of the Eiger, which were not so tightly hidden in the clouds and falling snow. The first two people to come up from the North Face almost fell right off the top of the ledge down the South Face. If they broke, I doubt that we would be able to keep them.
Be that as it may, they retreated from the edge of the ledge at the very last moment. We followed, reached a shelter on a windy mountain range, and wandered further past it to the top of the Eiger.
It was 3:30 pm on July 24th, 1938. We were the first people to climb the North Face to the top of the Eiger, from bottom to top.
Joy, relief, noisy triumph? Nothing like this. Our release came too suddenly, our minds and nerves were still shackled, our bodies too tired to give free rein to emotions. Fritz and I were on the Wall for 85 hours, Heckmeier and Förg for 61.
Not the desire to survive against the elements, but our friendship and hope for each other helped us. And, despite the difficulty of the ascent, we did not doubt for a minute that we would succeed. The storm at the top raged so fiercely that we had to double over. Our eyes, noses and mouths were covered with a thick crust of ice, and we had to peel them off before we could look at each other, speak or breathe fresh air.
We probably looked like the legendary monsters of the Arctic, but we weren't in the mood to play pranks on each other. Indeed, this place was not conducive to spinning the wheel on your hands or screaming with joy and happiness.
We silently shook hands. And immediately began to descend. I remember another quote by Innerkofler: “Going down is easy! You are accompanied by a couple of little angels…”
But it wasn't easy. The descent was full of danger and treacherous intentions. The wind here did not blow away the snow, it was wet, it heavily settled on the western slope, covering the icy slabs with a layer of almost a meter. We slipped and grabbed each other. We suddenly felt tired, terribly tired.
I got the job of finding the right path, and I went first because I knew the route; but when I was traversing the Eiger the previous time, the visibility was excellent. Now I didn't always find the right route right away; and my partners scolded me.
I didn't argue because they were right. Especially Anderl, who led us like an absolute hero throughout the climb - a real hero, calmly doing his job and serving his friends. He wasn't the type of person who needed drums and fanfare or crowd cheers to propel him to a masterful performance.
The conviction was within him, from his nature, from his true character as a man. But now we have seen how he slumped, not in the physical, but in the spiritual sense. Resignedly, mechanically, he moved forward; but he ceased to be a leader. The extreme nervous tension with which he lived during those days and nights on the mighty Wall had its consequences. During those endless hours of danger he outdid himself; now he could afford to be an ordinary person again, with all the weaknesses, perceptions and vagaries of normal life.
For example, take the problem with Anderl's trousers. The elastic of his jumpsuit was torn. Anderl pulled up his trousers, but they fell off again. And this man, who reacted with lightning speed while flying along the ice couloir, and thus saved us all from trouble, the man who so often withstood the pressure of deadly avalanches, who made his way to the ice dome during a snow storm and, with incredible endurance, fought for the victory for himself and his three teammates - the same man, was nearly driven to hysterics by a broken rubber band.
Thus, Andreas retired from leadership. He had every right to lead us down the slope as safely as he had led us to the top of the terrible Wall; and he had every right to swear now, when exhausted and exhausted to the limit, he had to climb up several tens of meters again, because, in the fog and falling snow, I made a mistake in choosing the route.
There was nothing surprising in the decline of Anderl's strength. On the contrary, the real human nature of his reaction made me love him even more. We again found the correct route and began to descend along it. We slid, rolled, collided, insuring each other.
Gradually we lost altitude, and finally we descended below the clouds. The snow turned into rain. But how close the safe world of humans was now. Those many dark dots moving there on the glacier were people. They walked slowly to meet us. What else could they be looking for on the glacier?
As soon as we saw the people, we suddenly longed for the comforts of human civilization, which we did not even dare to think about during our overnight bivouacs. You don't think of a bed when you're hanging from a hook over a sheer precipice. But when we saw people walking towards us, we immediately wanted to take a hot bath, fall into a soft feather bed, plunge into comfort.
True, there, at the foot of the wall, was our tent, a luxurious house compared to our bivouac above the "Spider"; but we were soaked to the skin, and oh how we wanted to sleep in bed!
Will the Hotel am Kleine Scheidegg grant us a loan? How much money do we have left? Anderl was the richest, he still had a franc and a half, but this was not enough to fulfill the dream of a bath and a bed.
Suddenly, a little boy appeared in front of us, staring at us like we were ghosts. His face expressed embarrassed, incredulous surprise. He summoned all his courage to ask:
“Did you come down from the wall?”
“Yes,” we confirmed, “from the Wall.”
Then the boy abruptly turned around and ran away, squealing in a squeaky voice: “They are coming! They are here! They are coming!"
Meeting on the glacier
Soon we were surrounded by people. Guides, our Viennese friends, men from Munich, members of the Rescue Patrol, journalists, onlookers - all united in great joy - to see alive those four men whom they thought were dead. They took our backpacks off of us, they wanted to carry us in their arms, and they would if we didn't suddenly feel so rested and cheerful, as if we had returned from a walk, and not from the Eiger North Face.
Someone gave Fritz his first dry cigarette in a long time. Rudi Fraisl handed Andreas a small flask of cognac.
“Drink some,” he said. “Helps keep you warm.”
Anderl emptied the flask in one gulp. But he didn't get drunk. Even without this, we were all intoxicated by the general joy that surrounds us. And then, for the first time, we felt extraordinary satisfaction, relaxation, relief from all worries, and incredible delight that we had climbed the North Face.
So, all of a sudden, all our problems were solved. Beds, baths? Everyone showered us with invitations, absolutely everyone, just because they were human, and we returned safely to the fold of humanity. Yes, we went on excursions to another world, and we returned, but we brought the joy of life and humanity with us.
In the hustle and bustle of daily routine, we often live side by side, avoiding contact with each other. On the North Face of the Eiger, we learned that all people are good and the land we were born on is good too.
And now, the earth has welcomed us home...
Memorial plate to the pioneers of the Eiger North Face