A. Heckmeier, L. Fjörg, F. Kasparek, G. Harrer

The summer of 1938 began sadly enough 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. Sandri was especially famous, an unusually 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 on ice routes in the Alps. Like all real climbers, they arrived in Alpiglen and Kleine Scheidegg quietly, without fanfare, almost secretly. First we studied the Wall, for reconnaissance we passed the beginning of the route and again descended. They decided that the direct route that Max Zedlmeier and Karl Mehringer tried to climb the Eiger three years ago was easier than the one discovered by Andreas Hintersteusser. 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 Manlichen. Bernese alps

However, Bartolo and Mario hit the road in the early morning of June 21st. They were able to climb higher than Zedlmeier and Hintersteuser on the first day. The bravery and enthusiasm of the friends increased, as did their desire to win. The Italians were impatient and just couldn't keep themselves waiting. And nature at this time followed its own laws, without taking into account courage, enthusiasm and ambition. One of Iger's notorious thunderstorms began late in the evening ...

Eiger, Mönch, Jungfrau

The next day, a search patrol of the Grindelwald guides, led by Fritz Steyri, find Sandri dead in the snow at the foot of the Wall. Menti's body with great difficulty was raised from a deep crack in the glacier only a few days later.

Rescue

Memorial plaque to B. Sandri and M. Menti

It was a bad start to attempts to climb the Iger in the summer of 1938, but another tragedy could not stop the development of events that were about to happen. The memory of the successful return from the Rebich and Förg route, which was a turning point in the minds of the climbers, was still vivid. But this was a lesson after which everyone realized that it was impossible to catch the Wall by surprise. Veni, vidi, vici (came, saw, conquered) does not work on the Aiger. It takes endless patience and the ability to wait long ... for days, maybe even weeks.

Iger. Photo billyc

Meanwhile, Fritz Kasparek was impatiently awaiting my arrival. This great climber from Vienna, sparkling with life, blessed with an optimism that nothing could destroy, had already been in Grindelwald for a while, skiing in the Bernese Oberland, never ceasing to watch the mighty Eiger Wall. Although, so far, there was not much to observe, except for continuous avalanches, serious enough to completely nip even the very idea of ​​trying.

Scheme of the Eiger North Face

Anyway, Fritz would really like to have his partner with him on the serious ascent, which they planned to do together; you never know what can happen when you change plans. Sepp Brunnhuber, with whom Fritz made the first winter ascent of the Grosse Zinne North Face back in February - a somewhat training climb for the Eiger project - still couldn't get there. I promised Fritz to come to Grindelwald by July 10; but deep down he had reasons 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 teachers at the University of Graz were amazed at the speed with which I suddenly passed all my final exams. I would not have been able to explain to them that I need to get rid of my studies before I climb the Eiger's North Face.

They, of course, would shake their heads, and - not without condemnation - would remind me that it is quite possible to make this ascent without having a higher education. I didn't tell anyone about our plan, neither my fellow students, nor my fellow athletes and climbers. The only person whom I dedicated to the secret was a wise, practical and courageous woman, my future mother-in-law Frau Elsa Wegener. In 1930 her husband, Professor Alfred Wegener, gave his life to live as companions in the vast ice of Greenland when he died in a blizzard; thus, she may have had good reason to strongly oppose plans in which you risk your life. She did not, however, 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 lunch, I climbed onto my heavily loaded motor bike; and arrived in Grindelwald on the 10th of July exactly as promised. Fritz Kasparek, tanned to a chocolate shade under the mountain sun, with burnt-out hair, greeted me in the same Viennese.

Fritz Kasparek

Fritz was endowed with the art of eloquence. He had a positively original gift for inventing swear words when faced with apparently insurmountable difficulties, but did not admit it - both in the mountains and in everyday life. However, he never used to flaunt his feelings; never chatted 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 everything entirely. And at the same time, not with pity on his face, but accompanied by a strong Viennese word or expression. With friends like this, you can steal horses, invite the Devil for a picnic, or climb the Eiger's North Wall. Fraissl and Brankowski, two of Eiger's old connoisseurs, were also in Grindelwald.

F.Kasparek, G.Harrer, K.Freisl and L.Brankovski

Together we walked to the pasture above Alpiglen and camped there. We had a firm intention to avoid those mistakes that were fatal for the previous bands. Most importantly, it was necessary to thoroughly study our entire mountain before climbing its most interesting and difficult wall. Therefore, we first ascended from the Hoheneis glacier diagonally along the northeastern slope along the Mittelegi ridge, then up to the top and descended along the usual route.

Iger. Mittelegi rib

Exit to the top of the Eiger along the Mittelegi ridge

In addition, we climbed Mönch on the Nollen route. Moench. On the right, through the ice "nose" is the Nollen route.

In the meantime, cows were driven into our idyllic pasture. Fritz and I decided to change our place of residence, and moved our small tent to a small meadow near the wall. Freisl and Brankowski remained in the pasture.

Swiss pastoral

It was a beautiful day when Fritz and I began our ascent from the lower part of the wall and after ascending about 700 meters, up to the so-called “Bivac Cave” above the “Ruined Pillar”, we left our 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 indicate 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 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 load, like, for example, ours.

On the Iger's wall

We went down to our tent again. Conditions did not yet allow starting the ascent and counting on the slightest prospect of success. We definitely decided not to allow us to be rushed, nudged or prodded. Past tragedies, and especially the deaths of two Italians earlier this summer, have taught us that any rush can hinder a conscious sober decision and lead to dire consequences. We could wait and we wanted to wait.

Iger's North Face in the Snow

The days of good weather had already come, and we were still waiting, watching how the snow that fell during the storms and filled up the rocks, changing their shape, melted, mixing with the old lower layer. It now seemed reasonable to hope that conditions on the pre-peak, unknown section of the wall would also be bearable. On July 21st, we decided that the hour had struck. At about 2:00 am we began to climb the wall, crossing the bergschrund in the dark, moving one at a time, unconnected, towards the “Shattered Pillar”.

We climbed in silence, each of us chose his own path, each of us thought about something different.

Glacier movement

This watch between night and day is always a tough test of courage. The body moves mechanically, making correct movements, gaining height; but the spirit is not yet awake, it is not seized by the joy of ascent, the soul is in thought and doubt. My friend Kurt Makes once called these doubts the true sister of fear, the right and necessary counterbalance to the courage that convinces men to go up and protects them from self-destruction. This, of course, is not the fear that climbers sometimes experience; but doubts and questions and human fears. After all, climbers are only human beings. They must accept their own shortcomings and apprehensions; they must submit to willpower, realizing that everything is in their hands.

And thus, the first hour, the hour of gray, shapeless, colorless dusk at dawn, is an hour of silence. Explicit trust is false, reality can be erroneous, sometimes when a person is struggling to achieve perfection, he overcomes himself, trying to extinguish the subtle nuances of premonitions with his willpower. And the great thing about the mountains is that they don't tolerate lies. Among them, we must be honest, above all, with ourselves. Fritz and I climbed up in the dark, and at dawn we passed the Shattered Pillar.

From time to time we heard voices behind us, we could even distinguish individual words. They were Freisl and Brankovski, who, like us, waited for good weather, and followed us to the wall. 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 sacks-tents in the "Bivaca 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 at the same time.

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 this was the famous Andreas Heckmeier. He is 32 years old and the oldest of the four of us. His face was covered with deep wrinkles, distinguished by 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 does his best himself.

L.Ferg

The second man, Ludwig Förg, seemed to be exactly the opposite type; well-rounded, athletic, not in the least wiry or thin, and his features were not as memorable as Heckmeier's. They radiated a friendly disposition; his whole being was characterized by hidden strength and inner peace. His friends, with whom he was in the Caucasus two years ago, nicknamed him “The King of Bivouac”. Even those awful open-air nights on the 2000-meter ice wall of Ushba, “Terrible Mountain,” could not disturb his sleep.

In short, one might ascribe dynamic strength to Heckmeier and endurance to Förg. 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. If there were, then, of course, they did not show it. Heckmeier said: “We knew you were trying to get over the Wall. We saw your backpack and read the label. ” We could not understand why we were unaware of the presence of these two men, who did not live in a tent or in Alpiglen or Klein Scheidigg, not in the hay, not in any of the pastures. It was only later that we learned that this time, they completely hid their tracks. They arrived in Grindelwald with their luggage and rented a room in a hotel in Klein Scheidegg.

Hotels in Klein Scheidegg

Who has ever heard of Iger's North Face contender sleeping in a hotel room? The trick worked great. Heckmeier and Furg had the best, most modern equipment with them. They were in fact as poor as we are, but they found a sponsor for the ascent in advance, and therefore for the first time in their lives were able to buy whatever their heart desires at the best sports shop in Munich, and even make special order equipment.

Of course, both had twelve-toothed cats that had just come into fashion. Fritz had ten-teeth, and I had no cats at all. I must say, this was a mistake, but it was not the result of carelessness, but rather too scrupulous calculation. We reasoned that the North Wall was a rocky wall with patches of snow and ice. A couple of cats weigh decently, and we felt that if we did without them, we could take more equipment and provisions with us. My boots were lined with special nails, according to the system popular in Graz; the arrangement of the spikes provided equally good stability on rocks and ice.

Our plan was for Fritz to walk ahead on the ice and me on the rocks. We also didn't want to waste time putting on and taking off cats. We were very wrong, and it was a mistake, but it did not lead to tragedy, we just lost time. But we did not know about it yet, when we stood and talked with Heckmeier and Förg at the entrance to the Bivach Cave. Förg, accustomed to living in bivouacs in all conditions and places, grumbled about the night they had just spent. “It was cold and uncomfortable,” he complained. “Rockfalls prevented sleeping outside the cave, and the cave itself was narrow and wet. It was dripping on our sleeping bags all night. ”

Eiger North Face

Heckmeier looked at his altimeter and shook his head vaguely. “Got up about sixty meters,” he announced, “which means the barometer has dropped about three points. It doesn't bode well for the weather. ” At that very moment, Freisl and Brankovski approached us.

Introductions and friendly greetings followed, but by this time Heckmeier's voice could already be heard notes of concern. As 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 will not go further. " We ourselves were confident 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! ”

Heckmeier and Förg began to prepare for the descent, and we moved on. I kept thinking about the retreat of these two excellent climbers, and I had a look of indescribable disappointment on Furg's face. But what about Heckmeier? I soon realized that his suspicious cloud and “altimeter rise” were just excuses. He knew that the presence of three ligaments on the Wall could lead to serious delays, but he was too good an athlete to insist on “who got up first…” rights and ask one of our teams to come back. So he decided to come back himself: instead of saying “you’re wrong,” he noted that he didn’t like the weather. It was a decision dictated by the true sense of responsibility in mountaineering. Time and time again, climbers on the North Wall faced difficulties, because they allowed themselves to hurry up not only because of the condition of the Wall or weather conditions, but also in competition with others. Förg, one of the finest climbers to have attempted to conquer the summit, did not want to let himself be in a hurry.

Work on the wall

At that moment, there was no time for psychological reflection or solving similar problems. The wall itself presented us with real problems as we arrived at Hard Rift. Dusk 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 rucksack over his shoulders cooled his spontaneous attempt to climb the wall. He had to go downstairs and leave the backpack at my feet. Then he made the second throw. It's a pleasure to watch him. He climbed higher and higher, elegantly, using every crack, without getting out of his own rhythm, without any extra effort. And in astonishingly short term he mastered this first bastion on the Wall.

The job of lifting Fritz's backpack was difficult, and it was also a huge waste of time to cling to all the ledges. In the end, we pulled the first backpack upstairs; the second, weighing 25 kg., I dragged on my shoulders. We just didn't have time for the fun of pulling out the second backpack. Fritz chose me vnatyag; his help at least made up for the weight of my backpack, and soon I was also at the top of the crevasse.

With a heavy backpack

The passage of this bastion gave me a first sense of what the Wall had in reserve; but the fact that I didn’t lose my breath while walking through the crevasse increased my confidence that I was ready for exercise. There is, of course, a huge difference between balancing like a gymnast under a circus dome on even the toughest wall of the Dolomites and climbing the Eiger Wall with a heavy load. But isn't the ability to carry heavy backpacks a necessary skill for every successful climb?

Overcoming the "Difficult Crevice"

Many climbers will use old loops left in the Difficult Crevice to climb. We preferred to free climb. A climber with the skill of Kasparek uses loops only where absolutely unavoidable.

Red plummet

By that time we were just below the "Red Plumb", that smooth wall, thirty meters high, which goes into the sky with licked rocks. According to rules based on human experience, the walls of the mountains sleep peacefully in the early morning, shackled by the night's cold. The stones are frozen and motionless.

But Iger's Wall does not obey any of Queensberry's rules; another example of the fact that she does not give a damn about all the tricks of the people. Stones suddenly fell down. We saw them fly over the edge of the Red Plumb and whistled over us in a wide arc. The wall opened a barrage of fire. We hurried up to get to the bottom of the plumb line faster, where, huddled against the wall, we could feel safe.

Another rockfall rumbled. The stones hit the wall below us, shattering into a thousand pieces. Then we heard Freisl's voice, not a call for help or SOS, just a conversation, one of them got a stone in the head and wounded.

"Something serious? Can I help you?" we asked.

“No, but I'm terribly dizzy. I think we've had enough. We'll have to come back. ” "Can you handle it yourself?" "Yes, it's okay." We were sorry that our two Viennese friends could not keep us company, but we did not dissuade them. Thus, Freisl and Brankovski began to descend back down.

Red plummet

Now, before sunrise, the two of us were alone again on the Wall. There were just 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 along simple rocks, and then, suddenly, we found ourselves at a crossing that Rebich and Förg had dubbed the “Hintersteuser 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 Hintersteuser, who walked this traverse through the first ice field, realizing the complexity of the task.

Tony Kurtz and Andreas Hintersteuser

The deceased Tony Kurtz

Hans Schlunegger, Arnold Glatthard and Adolf Rubi. Guides who tried to save T. Kurz

Failure on such a traverse was fraught with the emergence of a huge "pendulum". We were also full of gratitude to Förg and Rebić for leaving the rope on the traverse - saying hello to us, it was very helpful. We tested the rope to make sure it was securely fastened and can be loaded safely, although it sagged for twelve months under storms and downpours, moisture and cold.

Hintersteuser's traverse. State of the art

From reports, descriptions and photographs, we knew how to go through the traverse. No one, however, explained what to do when the entire wall is covered with drip ice. The rock was completely icy, without a single ledge on which to stand.

On the traverse F.Kasparek

Nevertheless, Fritz traversed with his characteristic amazing skill, balancing on slippery ice, making his way, centimeter by centimeter, meter by meter, across this difficult and treacherous wall. In some places he had to knock snow or a crust of ice off a rock with blows from an ice ax; shards of ice 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, making his way to the left, climbing, hanging on a rope near the rock, from hold to hold, until he reached the far end of the traverse.

G. Harrer passes the traverse, pushing F. Kasparek's backpack

Then I followed, pushing Fritz's backpack, suspended from the railing, in front of me, and soon joined my partner on the other side. Shortly after the traverse we got to “Swallow's Nest”, a bivouac site that became famous thanks to Rebić and Fjörg, and there we stopped for a rest and a small 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, the traverse, which is of course one of the most photogenic in all the Alps.

Current state of the Hintersteuser traverse

This prosaic epithet describes a whole story - extreme difficulties, exposure to danger, courage to move. But I would like to take this opportunity right away and correct the misunderstanding: the Hinterstoiser's traverse is undoubtedly one of the key stages of the ascent, but by no means the only one.

Hintersteuser's traverse. Modernity. This incredibly huge Wall contains numerous key locations that - thanks to the successful return of Rebich and Förg - have by now been scouted to Zedlmeier and Mehringer's "Death Buvwuak." We did not yet know what key areas 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 high but expensive target for the best climbers in existence.

Traverse passing

We walked splendidly, the weather was perfect, and we had no doubt that we had a good chance of success; but we didn't 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 for the descent. We decided to calculate the exact route of return. In 1936, the lack of calculation proved fatal for a team of four climbers; a tragedy that reached its climax with the horrific death of Tony Kurtz.

Tony Kurtz

At the “Swallow's Nest” we left 100 meters of rope, pitons, rope loops, and provisions. It was July 21st, 1938. Exactly two years ago on the same day, Hintersteuser spent hours desperately trying to get back on the traverse that he himself had opened. It was all in vain.

E. Rainer and V. Angerer

He, and with him Angerer and Rainer, died on the same day. We were extremely saddened by these memories. If only those four climbers left their fixed rope on the traverse, if they had a long enough rope in the Swallow's Nest, if only ... We had to thank the dead for our knowledge. The memory made us think and grieve, but we did not flinch. Life has its own laws, which we obey subconsciously. The predecessors showed us the way.

Routes: 1935 (green) 1936 (blue) 1938 (red)

Fritz put on his crampons and went out onto the First Ice Field. There was no firn here, instead there was hard, brittle drip ice. I estimated the slope at 50-55 °, that is, somewhat steeper than the average steepness of the Pallavicini couloir on Grossglockner.

Grossglockner. Couloir Pallavicini

After going the full length of the rope, Fritz cut down a large step and hammered in an ice hook to insure me on the ascent. 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 training in different sports came in handy ...

On the First ice field

We were heading for a vertical takeoff, which leads from Icefield One to Icefield Two. The only possible passage seemed to be through a chute, later called the "Ice Arm". This bridge between two ice fields is one of the many tricky traps on this Wall. Outwardly, the wall in the Dolomites is much more imposing than any bastion on the Eiger Wall. When I think of the great 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 cliff in the Dolomites, you immediately admire the rough surface, the horizontal hooks, the horizontal arrangement of the depressions and solid cracks and crevices into which the pitons can be safely driven. But here? The first illusion is that the ice-covered rock does not look particularly difficult. All you have to do is hook the belay hooks into it ... but it is not possible to arrange belay on this wall! In fact, there is not a single crack for a secure hook, and there is not a single crack that fits. 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 fun climb, the wall does not inspire confidence; she simply threatens with extremely difficult and dangerous climbing. But what can you do, this is part of the Eiger North Face that we are trying to climb ...

In the "Ice Sleeve"

The Ice Arm confirms its name. The rock was flooded with water and, in some places, froze over. Water poured down under the frozen layer, between the ice and the rock, bursting out. The only way was through her. Water was poured into the sleeves of our storm jackets, running all over the body, fell in a matter of seconds into the leggings, which were supposed to separate our trousers from our boots, and poured out.

F.Kasparek on ice

There was practically not a single gap in this gutter, consisting of ice, rock and water. The wall was harsh, and excellent climbing technique and skillful, deliberate maneuvers were required of us. Here Fritz also showed the highest class; but hours passed until we reached the Second Ice Field. We were soaked to the skin when we got there. It was still afternoon. The Second Ice Field stretched high and wide above us. Our path went up diagonally to the left sharp ridge, nicknamed "Iron", in the direction of the last bivouac of Zedlmeier and Mehringen.

The huge ice apron seemed small from where we stood; but even with the deception and remembering that it took first-class ice connoisseurs like Rebich and Förg five hours - twenty pitches - to reach the top edge, we still had plenty of time to do it and probably even reach the Bivouac of death". Yet we still had at least six hours of daylight. Despite this, we decided to go up 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. The fine afternoon allowed the sun to strike diagonally down to the top of the Wall, where “little icicles are ringing rivulets”. This is where avalanches begin; and stones, once set free from icy confinement, have a habit of obeying the laws of gravity. Further along the route - because it was necessary to follow the traverse diagonally across the Wall hundreds of meters across the ice fields - snowfalls, rockfalls and water cascades plunged in a vertical fall from the "Spider". Admittedly, every stone finds a target.

But we did not prepare ourselves so carefully for the return trip to the “Swallow's Nest” in order to be hammered with stones or swept from the Wall by avalanches in this place. Falling stones are on the list of "objective" dangers of climbing, or in other words, as circumstances over which a person 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 the place to go in the early morning. Even so, 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 hammer in two safety hooks; then we spent several hours cutting down a small shelf in the ice just below. It was still light when we began to finish the arrangement of our bivouac. We tied ourselves and our things to the safety hooks, put coils of rope under us, and began to cook dinner. The rock provided us with complete protection from stones; the view from our overnight stay was magnificent.

F.Kasparek at the First bivouac

There were all the conditions for an excellent bivouac; but we were soaked to the skin. Still, although we had warm clothes and removable underwear in our backpacks, we decided not to risk changing clothes or pulling warm jackets over wet clothes. We didn't know what the weather was capable of, or how often, where and under what conditions we would have the next bivouacs. Thus, we had to keep our supplies dry for future nights; but a strong will was needed not to get them out of backpacks and put them on, even knowing that it was better to wait. The night was long and cold and uncomfortable. The bivouac was not as wonderful as it seemed at first. Only later did we realize that it was the worst on the entire Wall, despite its relatively good location. Our wet clothes made us doubly susceptible to cold; our minds and souls were just as outraged as our bodies trying to cope with the discomfort. But every night ends someday. In the gray veil of dawn, we began to gather, teeth chattering, and prepared the ropes for the upcoming ascent.

The beginning of the ascent after the First bivouac

The weather was still good, the cold froze all the rocks, and we began to climb diagonally across the Second Ice Field. And only here we fully realized what mistake we made by leaving my cats. Fritz compensated for this puncture with a huge expenditure of energy, as he had to chop steps in the ice. It was amazing to see how this best climber in Vienna was masterfully wielding an ice ax. For hours on end, he swung his ice ax rhythmically to cut step by step, resting only on the belay points to receive me. And the steps were so good that the spikes on my sole held up just fine.

From top to bottom, the Icefield looks like a smooth surface; but this is pure illusion. The huge waves on the surface of the ice gave the impression that we were about to approach the safe rocks above; but we soon realized that we had just reached another bulge in the ice, and that further there was another ice valley that we had to cross. It was a phenomenon that climbers often encounter in the Western Alps when they mistake one of the many snow eaves for the main summit. Equipped with the latest technology, the climber uses an ice ax as a guide of the past Alpine era. Speed ​​is the essence of modern climbing; persistent, slow progress is a tribute to the classic past. We naturally wasted a lot of time because we used techniques from the past. Even Rebich and Förg had spent five hours a year earlier to cross this vast stretch of ice. It took us exactly the same time.

Just before the cliffs separating the Second from the Third Icefield, I looked back down at our endless line of steps. Above it, I saw the New Era approaching at top speed, there were two men running — and I emphasize — running, not climbing up. Admittedly, skilled climbers can move quickly on good steps, but for the two, reaching that point in the early morning was positively surprising. They must have camped last night on the lower part of the wall; it was almost impossible for them to climb just today. But this was, in fact, the same case.

On the left is the route to the Heckmeier-Fjörg wall, on the right -Kaspareka-Harrera

These two were the best of all Eiger Candidates - Heckmeier and Förg - using their twelve-toothed cats. I felt quite old-fashioned in my old, nailed boots. We exchanged short greetings; then they approached Fritz. I knew my friend and his respect for alpine etiquette well enough; I knew that he preferred to choose his own routes and that although he wore the noble badge of the Mountain Rescue Team, he himself did not like to accept help.

Even when Heckmeier’s apparently joking question if he wanted to return, he answered with a strong Viennese word. But Anderl did not want to start a quarrel. He is not evil in nature; in addition, Kasparek and Heckmeier had a deep respect for each other, and therefore the result of the meeting was neither disagreement nor competition, but a union that was rarely seen on this powerful wall. We naturally continued to climb as two separate ligaments, but now led by Heckmeier and Förg. They later told us that they saw Freisl and Brankowski return; after that, nothing held them back. They went to the wall early in the morning, and now they caught up with us. Now we are all moving together ...

Deadly bivouac

We moved up the steep buttress to the Death Buvuac at a synchronized pace. During our long afternoon break, we felt like one team. Not a word of disappointment. It seemed like we had been planning to climb together for a long time, and now, ultimately, we were all happy to come together. There was no difference of opinion on the further route. It led from our resting place diagonally downward across the Third Ice Field to the foot of the Rampa, a section of the wall that rises sharply to the Northeast Slope, along which Lauper's first ascent route passed; then from the top of the “Ramp” by traverse to the right to the “Spider”; across the "Spider" and then along the exit crevices to the firn of the summit crowning the final wall.

All this just seems easy to describe. In fact, each of the named sites has its own big question mark. But when I looked at my companions, Fritz, Anderl and Wiegerl, I felt completely confident that any peak, the least suitable for climbing, could be easily climbed by our four. It might have been realistic to climb right up the wall from the Death Buvuac to the Spider, but we couldn't study the wall closely as we were looking across the chasm.

The fog descends on the Iger

The fog descended on the mountains, and began to slowly slide down, heading towards us. It was a fog that “there” is called as Iger’s “Cotton Ball” and it envelops each individual peak. But this fact did not upset us much. It is one of Iger's normal characteristics to wear a cap for an afternoon nap, much to the dismay of the curious who crouched on the telescopes. We, of course, could not judge the strength of that disappointment, since the tickets and people standing behind them in line were 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. sometime or not. Meanwhile, hidden from prying eyes, we traversed the ice slope of 60 degrees to the beginning of the "Ramp".

On the ramp

The "Ramp" does not look different from the rest of the Wall, but it is still much more difficult than it seems. You cannot run up it as there are no leg or hand holds. Here the wall goes steeply upward and breaks off downward with huge faults, and there are literally countless cracks into which you can drive a hook. Anyway, 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 cannot tell if his arms are weakened or if he has lost his fulcrum. Everything happened suddenly - once, and he is already out of sight. I rested harder and waited for the worst. I knew that the hook was securely hammered and that it would not fail. And the safety rope wrapped around my shoulders should withstand the jerk. Anyone walking without belay in this place would fly down straight to the foot of the wall ...

Passing the "Ramp"

Luck smiled at us. The rope stopped the fall at a small snow blow, on the surface of the firn. The speed of Fritz's fall was such that the jerk, which I repaid, was quite bearable. But was Fritz injured? I soon calmed down. From below came a few words, understandable only to those who know Viennese slang well - selected strong expressions.

Then Fritz climbed again. Soon he was at the top of the Ramp, moving further up, as if nothing had happened, until I shouted to him that the rope was over. As I climbed, I looked at the place where he fell. Fritz flew 18 meters, without touching the wall, straight from the diagonal of the “Ramp” and then confidently climbed back along the difficult crevasse. We did not think about this breakdown. Fritz held himself calmly, like a player who drops such dice during a game that it is necessary to return to the beginning in "Snakes and Ladders". We were not in the least upset: we just laughed because we continued to enjoy life. No sentimental handshakes or hugs. To go back and do it all over again - this is how we perceived it. It was typical for Fritz to continue climbing after a fall, since he did not injure himself. And it was quite natural for me to detain him, because that is why I was there. Fritz was just the right partner for this big Wall. It seemed to him useless to burden his friends with the phrases "but if ..." and "suppose that ...", reasoning about "what could have happened", or the question, "why did this happen?" What really mattered was that everything ended well. Towards evening, all four were back together.

Passage of the "Ramp". Nowadays.

Above us, the “Ramp” ended in a narrow well with a crack coming out of it. The water washed away the crack. None of us camped out in wet clothes — ours dried out during the morning as we crossed the Second Ice Field. We thought that the day was quite successful. A crack would be a good prelude to the next day's work.

And we started to prepare a place to spend the night. This sounds rather prosaic. And we thought that finding a place for a bivouac would be easy enough when we looked at the “Rampa” in the photographs or through the chimney. We even thought we had mapped out these places. In fact, there were no places, not a single place. Acceptable shelves were rare throughout the wall.

A. Heckmeier and L. Ferg at the bivouac

We placed our bivouac approximately 2.5 meters below that of Heckmeyer and Förg. We managed to hammer one single hook into a tiny crevice 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 act like a lever and can break free. So we bent it down until the ring touched the rock. So we were done with any questions about the lever and knew we could rely on our little gray steel friend.

First, we hung all our things on him and, after that, we attached ourselves. There was no room 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 we dangled our legs over the abyss. There was a tiny niche next to me, enough to accommodate our stove, so we had the opportunity to make tea, coffee or cocoa. We all desperately needed fluid.

Chef Harrer

Heckmeier and Förg were not much more comfortable. The attitude towards the rest of Furg, “King of Bivouac”, was quite remarkable; even in a place like this, he was not going to sacrifice possible comfort. He had changed into soft lambswool chuni, 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 comfortable and comfortable enough.

Experienced climbers will understand my statement, but non-professionals should just believe it. The famous philosopher, when asked what true happiness is, answered; "If you have a little broth, a place to sleep and you are not in physical pain, you are on the right track." We can supplement its definition. "Dry clothes, a secure hook, and a precious life-giving drink are true happiness on Iger's North Face."

Yes, we were very happy. This huge Wall has brought our lives to a 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 great to welcome 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 fell from this height, he certainly would not have survived. But who thought of falling? It was a nice 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 about a solid roof over my head or a warm bed, but memories of one of my first hikes in the mountains.

Peak 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 talus, quite uncomplicated, like all those 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 my tongue stuck to the sky. There, in the middle of the scree, I saw two eagles tearing huge chunks of flesh from the body of the chamois. The birds of prey reluctantly flew away when they saw me. I was so mesmerized by the view that I instantly forgot about my thirst. I was young, and I could not come to terms with the fact that the death of one creature meant the birth of another. I wondered if this was the immutable law of Nature? Was this true for humans as well as for animals? Every part of my being was against this concept.

Lake Weissenfelser

I went down to the shore of Lake Weissenfelser. There, by the lake, stood the shepherd's hut, next to the stream, ringing with a crystal stream of water. I bent down and passed the water through my fingers. Then I drank and drank and drank…. Suddenly I heard a rough voice behind my back. A tall, gray-haired shepherd stood there, his sharp-cut face burned to 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 in the house. ”

I will never forget the old man who spoke rudely to me in order to do me a good service. For a couple of days I stayed with him, 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 well-seen, fluent in eight languages.

For many years he worked as a cook on a ship, furrowed the oceans, and all the events of his life, in general, left fond memories of his brothers. I remembered a ghastly picture of eagles gnawing at 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 kind ...

Mangart peak and lake

With these memories of the old man from Lake Weissenfelser, 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 some more, but I could not, he was so strong. He grabbed me and shook me well.

I was only half awake from sleep, but I still felt a hard pressure on my chest. It was a rope. In a dream, I slipped off my ledge, and hung with all my weight on the rope. I already realized that I was on the Ramp, on the North Face of the Iger, and that I had to wake up, pull myself up and return to a sitting position; but I was too sleepy.

I dimly understood that I shouldn't hang on a hook for a second longer, which was hammered into the rock only one centimeter; 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 sitting at that dizzying height on the small ledge. Fritz muttered something in his sleep.

Then I heard Andreas and Ludwig talking over me. Furg seemed flustered and I asked what had happened.

“Anderl is not feeling well,” he replied.

"He has an upset stomach because of the sardines he ate last night."

By that time, I was already 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 drinks. It helps with cold, it helps to bring down high temperatures, against discomfort and nausea, copes well with fatigue and weakness. And in our case, tea also helped. The sardines settled in Anderl's stomach.

We dozed and slept until the stars began to fade, and the light of a new day began to break through the predawn twilight. The night has receded; and she wasn't that bad. Förg began to cook at about four o'clock in the morning. Like everything else, he did it thoughtfully, unhurriedly and carefully. He made a lot of oatmeal and coffee. It cheered us up and drove away the cold.

Exit from the bivouac

It was already seven o'clock when we finally began to move upward. Coping with a crack in the well in the early morning was a physical challenge for the bodies not yet crumpled after a sedentary sleepover.

In the morning, the route did not get much easier than it did last night, except that the waterfall was frozen over. In its place, on the rocks, a thin crust of ice glittered. Even Anderl, walking in front, seemed puzzled. Apparently he decided that a straight line was the best way and walked straight along the well, driving in hooks wherever possible.

One of them seemed reliable enough. Anderl made his way higher and higher, demonstrating aerobatics, cutting ice, and passing overhanging sections. He put heavy loads on 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 awnings should not delay us. He was really very angry. Therefore, he put on his famous twelve-toothed cats. Then he entertained us with a demonstration performance with elements of acrobatics that we had not seen before.

It was half excellent climbing technique, half ice dance. He caught on a rock, held on to the ice, doubled over and straightened himself, walking on the front teeth of the crampons on the ice. They were only a few millimeters long, but that was enough.

Heckmeier defeated this difficult section of the route, cut steps and hammered hooks into the ice slope, and then took Förg. We were still moving in two independent bands.

Now it was Kasparek's turn to tackle the crack in the well. He didn't have any twelve-toothed cats, but he had a completely different approach to the route. He walked straight, avoiding the ice-covered rocks. Showing masterful passage, he seemed to be climbing at home, and not on the big Iger Wall.

Harrer on the wall

I went last. Then all four of us gathered together on the ice, looking up in disbelieving surprise, struck by the threateningly overhanging wall of ice with a cornice on which the route rests, ice that blocked all further progress along the Ramp.

Could anyone climb it at all? The overhanging ice was over 10 meters high. I have never seen anything like it, and the others also seemed amazed at first. Let's go to the left? No. On right? No. It seemed like the best choice: but is this “best” option real?

Heckmeier tried. He started hammering hooks into the ice below the negative segment. One of them entered crookedly. Then he carefully 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 it moved up, but as soon as it hung with all its weight on the icicle, the pretty shiny thing broke off and it flew off ...

The hook held out.

Again we saw the same reaction as before. The failure drove Heckmeyer into a cold rage. He immediately tackled the overhanging site again. This time, he did not trust the icicles with which the Architect of our mighty prison adorned it. Was it really a trap? Was this the place where we would have to surrender and turn back? No, our Andreas climbed up and got out of the trap, finding the "ice bracket". The icicle, growing from top to bottom, joined with a ledge covered with ice and tending upward - a stalagmite with a stalactite, both of ice, merged into one whole. And this object, sculpted by nature, was intended to become the key to our prison door.

Heckmeier looped a loop through the shackle and, leaning to the side almost horizontally, made a few clues with his ice pick where the ice was flattening. Then, grasping the noose, 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 that the famous overhanging roof on the Marmolada Pillar was child's play compared to this obstacle. We were all extremely tense. Förg gripped the rope tightly, ready to hold on to Heckmeier at any moment if he fell again.

But he didn’t break.

We couldn't figure out how, but with some dandy manner, he managed to insert the ice grapple deep into the crevasse above the wall and thread the rope through the carabiner. Then he gave the order: "Choose!" Förg pulled him with a rope, up the wall, up to the hook.

Heckmire used his ice pick several more times. Then he said, "Give it out!" Förg loosened the rope so that Heckmeier could stand, while 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, chopped off a layer of firn and hammered a safety hook deep into the hard ice. After that, as the final phrase to the unusually dramatic scene, we heard the long-awaited words: "Come up!"

The railing is ready!

Our prison gates were open. Förg broke free from the trap. The Iger North Wall is so vast, so difficult, and so dangerous that any display of human vanity would be inappropriate. No doubt Fritz and I could have climbed the ice wall without any help from above, but we would have spent precious hours on that, which would come in handy later.

Therefore, Fritz did not hesitate for a minute and grabbed the rope, which Förg threw for us. We, who followed him, were robbed of the thrill and adventure from this, the most difficult section of the Wall at the moment, we only felt the heaviness of the labor that was put into its passage.

And I, like the last one on the rope, had to knock out and bring all the hooks. I was decorated with them like a Christmas tree, and chains of iron hooks choked me as I climbed up. The ice slope above was light 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, it is quite easy for someone who has made a successful first ascent to nod their heads at the mistakes of those who follow him. I'm not going to do this. But I am surprised 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 the Spider too high.

This caused many delays and also led to the tragedy of 1957. It was quite clear to the four of us that the traverse to the right must be passed as early as possible.

Joint Team on the Wall

So, we traversed from the ice wall, four of us in one bundle, along a fragile belt of rocks below the overhanging cliff. By that time it was already noon, and we could hear the hissing of avalanches and the clatter of stones, but we were protected from danger by an overhang. While we were crossing these ruined rocks - Heckmeier 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 several photographs of unique documentary value in those moments.

A shot of the team from the airplane window

His photographs captured 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 way of lifting from the place where the brittle belt adjoins the wall, with which the traverse to the "Spider" ends. Heckmeier thought he could get past it with normal climbing; but each section of the Iger Wall is more difficult than it sounds, with tricky ledges where snow only sticks to the rocks, with precarious supports for arms and legs that might let you down.

So, he had to leave his backpack in order to make a second attempt to pass this section lightly. To do this, he put on crampons, knowing that icy areas are constantly found on the wall. It was a completely new type of rock climbing, this ascent to a serious, even super-serious rock, hanging in some places - in crampons.

Heckmeier was often on the verge of collapse, but somehow trained fingers held him when he thought he was running out of strength. The scraping of his cats on solid 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 like years passed before we all walked a 30-meter vertical section of the cliff. But still not long enough for dusk to fall? It suddenly became very dark, although the clock showed that, despite the thickening mist, it was still early day. Heavy clouds had accumulated in the sky, and this time the thunderous roar that resounded in 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, the other bunch had gone ahead. They untied the shared rope to get to the Spider before the storm began.

The thunderstorm brought a dark, menacing, but majestic setting. A few minutes ago, the sun was shining, at least for the people below 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 did not cause panic.

Indeed, 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 entire 1800 meter Wall, where you could feel comfortable. It would be chic to sit and relax there, looking down from the great wall to 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 location of the holds is therefore favorable. And the areas of ice cutting through the rocks were reliable enough for us to hammer deep hooks 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 a fitting name.

"Spider". Photo by Wendy Bumgardner

We reached Spider, a large ice patch on the Wall, quickly and without much difficulty. We did not have time to explore the area and landscape in more detail; the opportunity to spend time on this was missed. The sky, meanwhile, took on a bluish-black hue, and then completely disappeared behind patches of fog that rushed onto 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.

The storm began, it began to rain and snow; lightning flashed and thunder struck. We still saw Heckmeyer and Furg, already en route to the Spider's ice slope, a rope and a half away from us; we followed them.

"Traverse of the Gods" and "Spider". Photo capgwlan

As I explained, the name "Spider" was given to this sheer patch of firn and ice, perched high on an almost vertical Wall because of white stripes radiating out of it in all directions, like the legs of a spider or the fingers of a palm. Especially many stripes go up - in cracks and margins to the snow cap of the summit - and down to the "Deadly Bivouac".

But no one imagined how correct this name was, given even before we got there. We, too, did not realize this until we passed the first pitch. We had no idea that this "Spider" of snow, ice and rocks could become a deadly trap.

When it is hail or snow, ice and snow avalanches, rolling down from the sharp firn ridge of the tops, accelerate along the channels of cracks and couloirs, fly out with acceleration to the Spider, and there, merging in a fierce desire for destruction, sweep across the Spider's body and, finally, they rush down, sweeping away and taking with them everything that is not part of the rock monolith.

And at the same time there is no way out of the "Spider" for those who were 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 Spider's ice and knocked out a nice shelf on which I was able to stand quite firmly without crampons. I felt safe thanks to the well-hammered ice hook. The rope was passed through a carabiner hanging from the ring of Fritz's hook, which advanced about 20 meters above me.

Its blurred silhouette peered 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 hail were alarming. I tried to peer through the gray curtains to catch a glimpse of Fritz, but in vain. Only grayness and haze ... The howl of the wind intensified, rising to terrible notes - knocking and grinding, whistling and hissing.

It was not the voice of a storm growing from a wild dance of ice and snowflakes, this is 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 reached out to my partner. I pressed myself into the ice of the wall just as the entire weight of the avalanche hit me.

The grinding and banging of stones on my backpack were swallowed up by the crash and roar of the avalanche. She grabbed and pulled me with awesome strength. Will I be able to withstand such a pressure? Hardly ... I gasped, trying, first of all, to hold on to my backpack, which was torn from my hands and also to prevent the endless stream of rushing snow, to cram between me and the ice slope and squeeze me out of my shelf. I didn't even know if I was still standing or rolling down. Did the ice hook hold up? No, I was still standing and the hook was still secure, but the pressure was becoming unbearable.

A shop on the wall. Photo by 1nick carter

And Fritz could break loose at any moment. Standing there, in the open, he could not possibly resist the avalanche's rage ... it should have swept him out of its way ... My thoughts were very 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 have only fought because every person continues to struggle as long as there is life in him. I was still holding the rope with one hand, determined to do everything in my power to hold Fritz. At the same time, I began to wonder if we had already been so high on the Spider that it would not sink to the rocks, but would remain hanging on the ice slope if it fell off, flew past me and hung twenty meters lower along the entire length of the rope?

And will I be able to withstand the blow if Fritz crashes into me? All these thoughts were calm, without a grain of panic or despair. I just didn't have time for that. When is Fritz going to take off? It seemed like I was standing in this crushing, flying Hell for many years. Maybe the stones broke the rope, and Fritz flew away, losing his insurance? No, if this happened, the end of the rope would fall towards me. And she was still pulled up, which means that Fritz was still holding on somehow ...

The pressure eased, but I didn't have time to breathe or scream before the next avalanche ensued. Her fury surpassed that 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, like that I could achieve more in my life. There were no scenes from life running through before my eyes.

My thoughts were almost banal, funny and insignificant. I felt a little offended that the critics and clever people, as well as the Grindelwald gravedigger, who ranked us, like all those who are trying to conquer the North Wall, among their clients, were right. Then I remembered the accident at the Western Wall of Sturtshan in the Totten Mountains, years ago.

I tried to go through that difficult wall in winter and fell 45 meters. And in that case, my life did not run before my eyes, and I also did not have a feeling of despair because I loved life very much. Does everything really change when you cross this 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 avalanche pressure stopped. Snow and ice rang far below. Even the furious roar of the storm seemed, now that the avalanche had subsided, a gentle whisper.

And then, vibrating through the gray fog, the first screams were heard, picked up by the cliffs surrounding the "Spider" and delivered to people who were barely able to grasp the incredible truth. Names were shouted out and voices answered: “Fritz! Heini! Anderl! Wiegerl! " I realized that we are all alive. They were all alive, and so was I. Iger's biggest miracle happened. The White Spider took no victims.

But was it really a miracle? Was the mountain kind? Was it true to say that "Spider" took pity on the lives of its victims?

Iger. Photo by Lawrie Brand

Climbers are not superhuman, they are quite prosaic people. Such reflections can only be explained by the first burst of joy in returning to life; they have no chance to sober up our worldview. Miracle and mercy are not in vogue with 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.

How can we say that we were just lucky? A famous person once said: "Ultimately, luck is with the one who fights to the end." I'm not so presumptuous as to say that we climbers always take full advantage of our opportunities. But it seems to me that one of Alfred Wegener's statements fits our situation on Iger's Spider perfectly.

He said: "Luck is the last bullet in the drum." Our revolver was empty ... Kasparek stood 20 meters higher than me on the ice slope. When he heard an avalanche approaching, he instantly tried to hammer in the ice hook. He didn't have time to be scared, even for a split second. The hook was only hammered a few centimeters into the ice, and very fragile when the first avalanche started. Despite the danger, even as the avalanche roared down towards him, he thought about the hook that had not been hit. It had to be hammered securely, it had to not escape under the blow of the cascading masses of snow and ice, and falling stones; therefore Kasparek held it, covering it with his hand.

Stones hit him on the arm, ripping off his 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 avalanches, he drove the hook into the ice up to the ring, and quickly snapped the lanyard into it. And that is precisely why Fritz did not break away ... And only then, when the tension of the moment had passed, I remembered that I, too, had fastened myself with a self-belay to my hook for greater reliability during the same break.

The avalanche caught Heckmeyer and Förg by surprise, on a rock ledge about 20 meters below the cliff overlooking the Spider. Due to the shape of the ledge, the avalanche split into two separate streams near 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 organize themselves a self-belay by hitting 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 rocks and ice. Heckmeier only had an ice pick to hold on. The river of ice overtook him up to his thighs and threatened to carry him away like a fallen leaf; but he managed to withstand the fierce pressure. At the same time, he proved himself to be a reliable teammate in the rope and an outstanding leader of the ascent. Despite his own sad situation, Heckmeier took the time to reflect on his soul mate, standing below him on the open top of the slope.

Gripping the ice ax with one hand, like an anchor, with the other he grabbed Ferg by the collar and held him tightly. And so they both survived the avalanche. Only now, with the danger behind him, Fritz felt a sharp pain in his flayed hand. Only then did he shout to Heckmeier and Förg. "Drop me the rope, I'm hurt."

It took a long time to tie the ropes and toss them down to where Fritz was standing. And even then 10 meters were not enough, so Kasparek had to climb this distance without belay. How right Wegener is! Luck is really the result of the last stocks, the last cartridge in the clip. Here's how Heckmeier described the end of the avalanche and his joy at finding that we were still alive:

It gradually became lighter, and the pressure weakened. We already understood, but still could not believe that everything ended well. But what about the others? The fog cleared - and there - "Wiegerl", I shouted. "They're still holding on!" It seemed unreal, a real miracle. We started shouting and they answered us. Indescribable joy gripped us. Only then do you feel how strong the camaraderie can be when you see again the friends you thought were already lost ...

We all got together on top of the Spider. Our sense of delight when looking at the faces of our comrades was indescribable. As a confirmation of our friendship, we decided to once again connect the four of us with one rope and follow it all the way to the summit.

And Anderl should be our leader. The Spider's avalanches were not able to rip us off the Wall, but they did manage to sweep away the last, small remnants of our mean and selfish ambitions. The only counterbalance to this majestic wall was the tried and tested power of friendship, aspiration and understanding that each of us is doing 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. From her increased confidence that we will climb the Wall to the top and find our way back to the valley where people live. In such high spirits, the group continued their ascent.

Our ascent was brightly illuminated 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, hundreds of eyes ...

Here is how Ulrich Link, a renowned Munich journalist, reported his sightings at the Klein Scheidigg:

On Saturday at about 12.30 pm, a change in the weather was noticed on the Eiger. A shale-gray, menacingly dark cloud covered the Lauterbrunnen Valley. At this time, these four climbers, after five hours of incredible effort, crossed the “Diagonal Couloir”, possibly 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 occupation and probably the most knowledgeable and most experienced on the ice, walked in front. For half an hour, the cloud hid the climbers from our eyes. At about 1.30 pm, the Wall lit up again. By that time they had passed the "Traverse of the Gods", and the first had already reached the exit to the snowfield, called the "Spider". Heckmeier was leading excellently - he was first all day - towards the Spider. Kasparek and Harrer, meanwhile, were resting at the entrance to the snow. From 15 to 15.30, the Wall was once again wrapped in a cloud. Then the sky cleared again, everyone rushed to the telescopes.

By the telescope

The leader of the second group traversed from the rocks along the "Spider". At this time, Heckmeier reached the rock outcropping at the top of the snowfield. The second ligament moved more slowly, but just as confidently and carefully as the first. Heckmeier and Fjörg have now reached an altitude of 3600 meters, it was 15.50. The clouds covered the wall again, and we were cut off from them along with our fears and hopes. The summit was still over three hundred meters taller than the four men.

The weather turned bad again. Hour after hour, an agonizing wait lasted, and it was impossible to foresee whether it would all end well or badly. The Lauterbrunnen Valley lay under a dirty gray blanket; Jungfrau and Münch were wrapped in clouds. The glaciers gleamed with light blue and bluish green colors. Sometimes a patch of blue sky was revealed between rain clouds. Grosse Scheidegg, somewhere on the horizon, was still clearly visible, but the weather was inexorably worsening.

Meanwhile, the second team was to be in the Pipe on the Spider. At 4:25 pm, a light rain began, and exactly five minutes later, a heavy, noisy downpour, as if the clouds had burst through. The downpour must have hit the Wall and these four climbers like a tsunami. In the embarrassed hum of voices, notes of muffled alarm broke through. The entire North Wall turned into a raging waterfall in an instant. The water poured down the cliffs in ten or fifteen wide streams of white foam.

Fans

An amazing rainbow flashed and curved wide over the Alpine Valley by the river; but no one had any leisure to watch this amazing play of light. Up there, two men must be standing on the snowy slope, resisting the fierce force of the flood pouring down upon them.

Will they be able to hold on? Finally, the cloud rose. Everyone fell to their telescopes. Here it is, a huge snow slope ... and here are the climbers, both ascending slowly and confidently. They survived the onslaught of the elements. Förg and Heckmeier were probably in a more sheltered area, as they managed to reach the cliff 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 snow field. At 19 o'clock they reached it; at 20 they were still moving further, either because they still had not found a place for a bivouac, or decided to go forward as long as daylight allowed, in order to get as close to the top as possible. They have now reached 3,700 meters high above the Spider, a remarkable job done in fourteen hours.

At 20.20 it started to rain again. During short intervals, when clearances in the clouds allowed, we watched the climbers climb higher and higher. At 21 o'clock they were still moving, probably preparing their overnight stay; the third bivouac for Kasparek and Harrer, and the second for Förg and Heckmeier. Of course, this will be a cruel test, in wet clothes, in an absolutely unsuitable place for rest. But all four are hardened like steel ...

Ten o'clock. The wall plunges into darkness. From now on, the four men must endure long hours of night; they have enough provisions for six days. They may be able to get some sleep and they will probably squat around their kitchen, make hot tea, and reheat their food. Now there can be no question of retreat ...

That message from a knowledgeable and experienced journalist is a true statement of fact, even for a climber; and although it is written in a manner that would capture the layman, but without inappropriate drama, and without cheap sensations sucked from the finger. The truthful presentation of the facts, the successful observations of nature, the scanty description of the Wall are sensational in themselves.

But Ulrich Link was wrong about one thing. We couldn't sit by our kitchen. There was no room for this, although cooking was of no small importance. As for the placement 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 to sit or bivouac without careful preparation.

After we passed the ice, we came across 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; he was too narrow and sharp for that. Heckmeier found a place where he could securely drive the hook, then patiently found a few more cracks, where he managed to drive the hooks to hang all the things, as well as fix himself and Ferg.

Bivouac

There was no room for us. Fritz and I set up our nocturnal dwelling about three meters away. The ledge was barely boot-wide, and only allowed us to stand upright, firmly pressed against the rock, but we managed to drive in a hook, on which we were able to organize the belay.

And even after that, we still could not sit, the shelf was so narrow. Still, we found a solution. Taking the contents out of our backpacks and hanging everything on the hook, we were able to put our legs in the backpacks and hold on like that. We were sure that we would hold out all night, and so it happened. Between us and our friends, we pulled a railing rope along which a pot of food plied back and forth.

Förg took over important role- the cooks of the expedition. So even if we couldn't sit down, as Link imagined, the boiling of Ferg's pot left us in a complacent frame of mind. Neither of us wanted any solid food, all we needed was drink. Therefore, Ludwig brewed coffee for hours on end. As soon as the next portion was ready, he took a sip, and then passed it to us in turn.

Fritz, as a true crown, was a connoisseur of coffee, and even he was praised for Ludwig's brew. 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 withstand the torrents of rain, hail, snow, they were wet and crumpled.

Fritz, who did not say a word about his well-being, did not complain of severe pain in his injured arm, relaxed at the thought of cigarettes: "Eh, if only I could light a dry cigarette with dry matches ..."

I would give anything to fulfill Fritz's wish, but I had no cigarettes. Then I remembered how I met Fritz Kasparek for the first time. This was in the early thirties, when I was a young student with a great desire to climb, but had no money. Those were the days when everyone, one way or another, invented the possibility of being in the Dolomites for several weeks with only thirty shillings in his 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 in Italy.

There is a song by old tramps, Ermann Lons, which sings: "I will never, never give up." I was hungry and thirsty, but I remembered my thin wallet as I walked past hotels and shops with the finest fruits and delicacies in the windows.

A traveler approached me. He also had a huge backpack, the backpack of a typical climber; he also had a head 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 blond, heading for the Austrian border, greeted: “Hello, who are you? Where? Where?"

"I am Heini Harrer from Graz," I told him, "I am heading to the Dolomites."

"And I am Fritz Kasparek from Vienna." Fritz Kasparek ... I already knew that name. He was one of the most daring and experienced climbers in Vienna.

These Viennese youth passed the pillar on Marmolat, the North Wall of the West Zinne, the North Wall of Admonter Reichenstein,

Admonter Reichenstein Massif

innumerable other very challenging and new routes. He was only a year or two older than me, but I called him “Sir” out of respect for his famous reputation.

“Nonsense,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m Fritz, you’re Heini, and that’s all.” And then bluntly: “Do you want to eat? Drink? No money, huh? " I nodded. Kasparek took off his backpack, waved temptingly towards the grass at 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, got up, 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 had no idea then - and it would not have been Fritz Kasparek if he had said a word that he had bought those fruits as provisions for the trip to Vienna for his last pennies. As a result, he had to pedal his bike 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 Wall, 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!"

The team was out of luck with such sunsets on the Aiger

It was 11:00 pm. Ludwig stopped cooking and "retired to rest." Even here, at this height of 3750 meters, and 1500 meters from the nearest horizontal surface, he could not refuse comfortable slippers. Andreas hung on hooks to keep him steady against the wall, his head resting on Förg's broad back.

The next morning we found Förg sitting motionless, motionless, so that Heckmeier's sleep was undisturbed. Fritz and I pulled on sleeping bags and tents; we put our feet into the backpacks supporting us, and very soon I heard the deep, even breathing of my friend asleep 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 accidental small snowfall, but the snow slipped along the fabric of the tent, with a gentle rustling sound, as if someone stroked it with a hand ... I was not worried about the weather. I was seized with a sense of complete peace, not resignation to our share, but the confidence that, no matter what the weather, we will reach the top tomorrow and then plunge into the safety of the valley.

Iger from the artist's dreams Anthony "Ginger" Cain

This feeling of peace has grown to the realization 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 only genuinely happy; I also understood it. This one, the third bivouac for Fritz and me on the North Wall, was the least comfortable in terms of seating; despite this, he was the best.

And if you ask why - the reason was the rest, the calmness, the joy, the great satisfaction that we all enjoyed there. If, during those long hours when we were cut off from the outside world, one of us gave 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, leaving the rest - no one would blame him.

His partners will not turn away from him, although, perhaps, in the future they will treat him cooler. If, below, in the valley, people meet him joyfully and with all the 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 on the Eiger Wall were happy. It was snowing, and snowflakes flowed like a waterfall on our tents, but our happiness was inextricably linked with all this. It allowed you to think about the good, and helped to fall asleep ...

Iger is a mountain of happiness. Artist Anthony "Ginger" Cain

The challenge of oneself is an expression that no doubt exaggerates a healthy, honest experience, and contradicts the cold calculation that every climber gives to himself. But the main mistake lies in the assumption that this extreme test of oneself is the main driving force of mountaineering.

This is an assumption invented by the last ignorant, because they could not think of any better explanation for what they themselves cannot understand and which they have never personally experienced. I really can't help smiling when I imagine Fritz Kasparek's face if one of these know-it-alls asks him if he made the ascent to assert himself.

The interviewer would no doubt have walked away in discomfort overwhelmed by the caustic response in those famous Viennese words that are so difficult to translate into literary German. Of course, no climber makes a difficult climb to challenge himself.

If, during an extreme danger on the mountain, he first thinks about his companions in a bundle, if he subordinates personal well-being to the common good, then he automatically passes the test; and thus will pass it in any disaster, flood or fire that occurs. Such a man would certainly not have passed whistling past the wounded people on the road; he would help. It is very important for him to realize what he did, all that 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 scribblers who characterize climbers on extremely difficult routes as mentally abnormal.

I cannot imagine more normal men than my three companions on the Iger. Yes, the position 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, who had hammered his pitons into the wall, protected by Ludwig's broad back, slept peacefully.

Sleep on the North Wall. Horsley Freya artist

The peace and harmony of that open-air night allowed me to rush away into the twilight world between waking and sleep. 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 the huge wall of the mountain, and was in a somewhat cramped position, held hostage by the backpack, in our bivouac.

But that didn't bother me either. Here, as elsewhere in life, happiness was born of contrast. After the experienced fight with avalanches a few hours earlier on the "Spider", spending the night in the bivouac seemed like paradise to us. I was awakened by a significant snowfall over 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. Pulling off our sleeping bags, we got into the winter.

The snow continued and everything sharp or angular was plastered with fresh snow. The ledge on which we whiled away the night also melted into the snow. Our friends, a few meters below, looked like marble sculptures frozen on pedestals. The thought 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 ludicrous.

But we were really alive; and we not only planned to go up from here, we were sure that we would be able to do it. We heard the roar of a storm howling on the ridge above us. There was no wind where we stood. Only the avalanches descending and sweeping past us gave birth to the wind.

We studied their schedule and planned our actions in accordance with the received knowledge. It was scary to even think about what a deplorable state we could be in if we were there, on the Wall, if we still had to pass the ice slope of the Spider. Those small landslides that flew towards us from the ridge were only the beginning of large avalanches, which, fed from the numerous couloirs above, were now rushing along the slopes of the Spider.

We were lucky to get to the height at which we are now. But we soon realized that our hanging sleepover would seem like an easy challenge 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 Förg's wide back, Heckmeier slept well. Förg has already taken up his post as cook. He brewed a whole pot of coffee, melted chocolate in condensed milk, and all in all made a lovely and hearty breakfast. While absorbing this splendor, we held a council of war. The weather changed, as we expected - for the worse. She was as bad as always when people stayed on the Wall for several days in a row. We had enough food and fuel to sit out in the bivouac for several days.

But how does this help us? Even if the weather improves tomorrow or in a day or in 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. Are we going to let ourselves be exhausted by sitting and waiting? "Better to break off than freeze." This is the saying of Michel Innerkofler, the oldest known dynasty of guides in the Dolomites. We didn’t think about the fall, and even less about the retreat due to the fact that the Wall was donning winter clothes.

We decided to move on. As soon as 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 unnecessary. Among other things, there was a whole loaf of bread that disappeared at great speed into the fog below us.

I grew up in harsh conditions and had never thrown away a 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 into a fist all his will, all his aspiration, all his energy for a decisive desperate throw, until he is convinced that the last bridge behind him is 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; it will be Heckmeier's starry day. Today, as I sit and write these lines, I am firmly convinced that we would all get out of the Wall safely, even if we were not ahead of Heckmeier; Fritz would have been able to pass the Wall alone, despite his injured arm.

But, without the leadership of Anderl, we would never have done it so well, 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 and not like that. But will we become even one iota worse, or will the crown fall from our head, if we, with due admiration, admit that one of us was the best?

The four of us connected again with one rope. The order was now: Heckmeier, Förg, myself and Kasparek, who walked last today, so as not to pick the rope with his injured hand. Heckmeier ran into problems early on.

The first decision you had to make was which of the two routes to take? An overhanging ice fireplace that seemed damn difficult, but protected from snow falls; 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 Förg belayed it through an immediately hammered hook.

But the fireplace was so difficult that even Heckmeier's skills were useless. So he had to go back and try to climb the couloir, first studying the avalanche schedule.

Climbing the couloir

The snow continued to fall, and now that day has come, it was wet, heavy snow, the one that slides easily and adds speed to avalanches. But even without avalanches, the couloir was so difficult that even Heckmeier fell twice in it, and only on the third attempt, having gathered all his strength for an attack, he was able to climb the ridge of the cliff to the left of the couloir.

There he knocked down snow and ice with the blows of an ice ax and knocked out a comfortable step for his feet.

“Climb,” he said. Förg climbed up, and we followed him. Then Heckmeier continued to climb the route, which required us to give full strength. He could not afford to waste time as he had to get to the next safe place in between avalanches before another snowfall occurred. 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 became in the couloir; so thin that it was no longer possible to cut down the steps, and the ice ceased to hold the hook. The steel blades went through the ice, hit the rock underneath, and just bounced off.

Bad weather...

We all walked on the same rope. If the first fell, and the second could not hold him, I would be the one who should try to prevent the fall. And if they pulled me along with them, then all the weight would fall on Fritz.

We knew that no one person could keep three in this area. No one knew this better than Heckmeier, who quickly moved forward, and, at the same time, had to move as reliably as possible. He, as it were, was trying to bring us liberation.

And once we were one step away from death. I stood on a small hill, and Fritz was below me. Förg stood 30 meters above me, protecting Heckmeier, who was struggling with an icy rock, treacherous ice couloirs, snow falls high in the fog above us and falling snow.

We couldn't see either one or the other. Fritz joined me on my hill. Furg's command to climb has not yet arrived. 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 fell on us. It was not something 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 hit us was a bandage pack and a small empty pharmacy bottle.

"Hey!" - we shouted. "What's happened?" No answer. We waited for what seemed like an eternity, tormented by doubts and anxiety. Then, according to the schedule, the next avalanche raced with savage force. Only when it passed did we hear the command inviting us to move on.

Furg chose the rope so tensely that I was gasping for breath. But I understood how hard it was for him to work with an icy rope. There was no time left to climb neatly, according to the rules. Time became our motto if we planned to get out of the Wall.

And apparently something happened up there that was causing a lot of delay. What could it be? When I reached the point where Förg stood, a stone fell from my soul.

L.Ferg on the wall

They were both alive and not seriously injured. Fyrg's arm was tied with a bloodstained bandage, but Heckmeier was already a rope higher, on a tiny, cut, fragile platform.

Later, he recounted in his dry but pictorial manner how Förg received his injury: -

Wet snow fell heavily. There has been no avalanche for a long time. Therefore, faster, under the canopy! Damn ... the ice on the rock has thinned and the hooks no longer hold. On the second impact, they pass through the ice and bend against the rock.

I could stand on a small ledge only with my feet in the crampons together, because the strip of old ice in the couloir was very narrow, and the drip ice that covered the rock was too hard, smooth and thin. The tip of the ice grapple, to which I held on with all my strength, went into a shallow depth, like the beak of my ice ax. Suddenly the hook flew out, and at the same time my ice ax jumped out.

If my legs were wide apart, I might have kept my balance. But with my legs brought together, there was no hope .. I shouted, "Here you go, Wiegerl!" And he snapped. Wiegerl seemed to be standing securely. He recoiled as far as possible, but I flew directly at him - not through the air, since the couloir was not vertical, but glided over the ice with the speed of lightning.

As soon as I fell, I began to hack to death, so as not to fly head over heels. Wiegerl let go of the rope and caught me with his hands, and one of the teeth of my cats pierced his palm. I started to somersault, but in a split second I managed to grab the rope from the safety hook, and this allowed me to jump to my feet.

I plunged all twelve of my crampons' teeth into the ice - and I resisted. The force with which I crashed into Wigerl knocked him down, but he also managed to linger, and so we stood about a meter below the station on steep ice without any steps for feet. One big step and we returned to the place of insurance.

The hooks flew out and I immediately interrupted them again. It all took just a few seconds. The reflex saved us; our friends, standing by the rope below and tied to us, did not even notice that something had happened. If we hadn't stopped our fall, we would have pulled them off the Wall after us.

Meanwhile, Wiegerl took off his mitten. Although the blood gushed out, it was dark in color, which means it could not be a ruptured artery. I glanced quickly up at the wall; Thank God, there has not yet been another avalanche flying down. Taking off my backpack, taking out the bandage, I bandaged Wigerl's arm. He was very pale; in fact, if it was of any color at all, it was green.

"Are you feeling bad?" I asked.

“I don’t know myself,” he answered. I stood up so that he could not fall, and urged him to immediately gather strength. And that's when a small jar of heart drops from the first aid kit came in handy.

Committed to her profession, 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 only had to use them when absolutely necessary. The bottle said ... ten drops. I just poured half of the contents into Wiegerl's mouth and drank what was left myself as I was thirsty.

We ate a few glucose tablets and soon bounced back. It was time for an avalanche, but I saw no sign of an avalanche. “Look, I'm going to try to get through one more time,” I told him. “Okay,” he replied, “but please” - and his voice was still weak - “don't use me as a mattress anymore.”

I moved up, and coped with the difficult wall, this time absolutely safely, passing the 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, finding no place to stop; but at least I managed to score one small hook at the end.

And only when Heckmeier got there, at the moment when he fixed himself on a graceful little hook, an avalanche descended, which shook us with its appearance below, as I have already described.

She did not manage to take Heckmeier and Förg with her, and neither of us, but it was still a long time before I was near Förg and I managed to receive Fritz. Förg, with the help of a rope, hastened to join Heckmeier.

I vnatyag chose Fritz. In fact, we all pulled each other up as time slipped away and the area to climb was dangerous, steep and difficult; and we didn’t know how everything would work out yet. I have never been on an ascent in which there would be such races and competition with time, as on this Iger.

This final wall, in a chain mail of ice and snow, challenged the leader, who paved the way, centimeter by centimeter. We were moving forward. It snowed without stopping. The visibility was hardly more than the length of the rope.

Suddenly, through the cloud and swirling flakes, we heard screams coming to us, although we could not say exactly where they sounded from. The screams could have come from the summit, or from the West Slope. One way or another, they were getting closer. We agreed not to answer right away. Whoever called us, they were too far away to make out exactly what we were shouting back. Our cry could 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 summit to the valley, the rescuers leave, the beginning of the ascent ... one cry could start the whole process, if they misunderstood us ... even if we just shouted a greeting ...

So, we went up with Anderl at the head. Minutes turned into hours. We went up, meter by meter, rope by rope. And so we heard the words, shouts, 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 Freisl and Brankowski, deeply worried about our fate and shouting down from the Wall. The second time it was Hans Schluenegger, Oberland's most famous guide, shouting from top to bottom to ask if we needed help. True, he and two guys from Vienna were equally convinced that at the present time the bad weather on the snow-covered Wall made it impossible to provide us with any help; but he and our friends were equally willing to help us, or save us as soon as the weather improved.

Before entering the ice dome

In this respect, I must emphasize again the selfless willingness of the local guides. The two teams made it to the summit on their own, using a relatively easy classic route along the Northwest Face, 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.

In spite of everything, we were still alive, and continued to climb up. The steepness of the couloir has decreased. Avalanches couldn't do much harm now; they were still weak here. And then we left the couloir onto the ice slope.

It was the Pre-Summit Ice Field. If we hadn’t just left the Iger Wall behind, we could say that this field is steep; now it seemed to us horizontal. The final lobby was behind us; we got out of the Spider's clutches. It was noon when Heckmeier came out onto a gentle ice slope.

An hour later, the last of us got there safely. Only the ice slope now separated us from the ridge leading to the summit. We did not traverse the ridge to the left, but climbed diagonally to the right, keeping to the direction of the summit.

Only the icy slope of the summit remained.

Even Iger's last argument is no joke. Wet snow did not adhere tightly to the firn and the ice under it; he periodically slid down. This is the reason for Iger's avalanches. We did not dare to hasten our assault. The thought firmly sitting in our minds that the Wall had not yet let us go did not allow us to relax and take a carefree walk.

Anderl was still in charge, walking as calculatingly and carefully as always. He knew that a change of leader would be accompanied by rope manipulation and wasted time; but the first also had a positive factor - he could catch his breath, waiting for us to follow the rope, while we were suffocating. At the same time, this testified to his performance.

In this place, I especially felt the absence of cats. Despite the fact that Heckmeier cut down huge steps for me where necessary, despite the fact that Förg carefully selected the rope that went towards me, I could not afford the slightest mistake. I did not dare to slip; but it took a lot of force to hold on with only the 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. Something funny happened then, if it didn't mean a moment of grave danger.

Heckmeier climbed up the slope in fog and blizzard that hit his face. The slope became less steep, but, walking against the wind and unable to see anything, he did not notice it. Förg, following him, suddenly saw dark spots in front of him. No - not in front - under your feet. Very, very far below ...

These were the rocks on the South Side of the Iger, which were not so densely hidden in the clouds and falling snow. The first two people to climb from the North Wall nearly fell straight from the top of the cornice down the South Wall. If they broke, I doubt that we would be able to keep them.

Be that as it may, they stepped back from the edge of the cornice at the very last moment. We followed, reached the shelter on a windblown ridge, 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 Iger, from foot to peak.

Joy, relief, noisy triumph? Nothing like this. Our release came too suddenly, our minds and nerves were still constrained, our bodies were 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 in spite of the elements, but our friendship and hope for each other helped us. And, despite the difficulty of the ascent, we never for a minute doubted the successful result. The storm at the summit was raging so desperately that we had to double over. Our eyes, noses and mouths were covered with a thick crust of ice, and we had to rip them off before looking at each other, talking or breathing fresh air.

We probably looked like the legendary monsters of the Arctic, but we weren't in the mood to make fun of each other. Indeed, this place was not conducive to spinning the wheel on his hands or screaming with joy and happiness.

We shook hands in silence. And they immediately began to descend. I recall another statement 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 settled heavily on the western slope, covering the icy slabs with an almost meter layer. We slipped and caught 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 traverse the Iger 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 as they were right. Especially Anderl, who led us as an absolute hero all the way up - a real hero, calmly doing his job and serving his friends. He was not 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 saw how he wilted, 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 these days and nights on the mighty Wall gave its consequences. During those endless hours of danger, he surpassed himself; now he could afford to be an ordinary person again, with all the weaknesses, with the perceptions and vagaries of normal life.

Take Anderl's trousers, for example. The elastic of his jumpsuit was torn. Anderl pulled up his trousers, but they fell off again. And this man who reacted with the speed of lightning when he flew along the ice couloir, and thus saved us all from disaster, the man who so often withstood the pressure of deadly avalanches, who made his way onto the ice dome during a snowstorm and, with incredible endurance, fought for the victory for himself and his three teammates - the same man was almost driven to hysterics by a torn rubber band.

Thus, Andreas was removed from the leadership. He had every right to lead us down the descent, as safely as he led to the top of the awful Wall; and he had every right to swear now that exhausted and exhausted to the limit, he had to climb again several tens of meters, 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 forces. On the contrary, the real human nature of his reaction, aroused in me even greater love for him. We again found the correct route and began to descend along it. We slid, rolled, collided, belaying each other.

Gradually, we lost altitude, and finally, we descended below the clouds. The snow has turned to rain. But how close the safe world of people was now. That many dark spots 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 people, we suddenly wanted the convenience of human civilization, which we did not even dare to think about during our bivouac nights. You don't think about the bed when you are 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, stood 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 on the Klein Scheidegg grant us a loan? How much money do we have left? Anderl was the richest, he still had one and a half francs, but this is not enough to make the dream of a bath and a bed come true.

Suddenly, a little boy appeared in front of us, staring at us as if we were ghosts. His face expressed confused, incredulous surprise. He mustered all his courage to ask:

"Did you come down from the wall?"

"Yes," we confirmed, "from the Wall."

Then the little boy turned sharply and ran away, shrieking in a squeaky voice: “They are coming! They are here! They are coming!"

Meeting on the glacier

We were soon surrounded by people. The guides, our Viennese friends, men from Munich, members of the Rescue Patrol, journalists, onlookers - all were united by a great joy - to see alive those four men whom they considered dead. They removed our backpacks from us, they wanted to carry us in their arms, and they would have carried it if we did not suddenly feel so rested and cheerful, as if we had returned from a walk, and not from the North Wall of the Iger.

Someone gave Fritz his first dry cigarette in a long time. Rudy Freisl handed Andreas a small flask of cognac.

“Have a little drink,” he said. "It will keep you warm."

Anderl emptied the flask in one gulp. But he was not drunk. We were all intoxicated by the common joy surrounding us without it. And then, for the first time, we felt extraordinary satisfaction, relaxation, relief from all worries, and incredible admiration that we climbed the North Wall.

So, all of a sudden, all our problems were solved. Beds, baths? Everyone threw invitations at us, absolutely everyone, only because they were people, and we safely returned to the bosom of humanity. Yes, we went on excursions in another world and we returned, but we brought the joy of life and humanity with us.

In the hustle and bustle of the daily routine, we often live side by side, avoiding contact with each other. On the North Wall of the Eiger, we learned that all people are good and the land we were born on is good too.

And now, the earth welcomed us home ...

Commemorative plaque to the first conquerors of the Eiger North Face

Eigerwand - The Eiger North Face is perhaps the most notorious wall in Europe. A mile of rocks and ice, prone to rocks and ice falls. She is also famous for sudden and incredibly violent storms. The earliest attempts to pass it ended in tragedies. 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 killed first, while Kurz continued his descent. The railway tunnel inside the mountain has one window that opens directly onto 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 a knot stuck in the descent device did not allow to complete the descent and he died.

Hans Schlunegger, Arnold Glatthard and Adolf Rubi: Three mountain guides who took part in the rescue of Tony Kurz.

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 London News (6th August 1938): Fritz Kasparek on the Hinterstoiser traverse.

Heinrich Harrer (left) and Fritz Kasparek (right) after climbing the Eiger North Face, 25 July 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 and Claudio Corti and the Germans 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, were injured and waited out the terrible weather on different shelves. The German team reached the summit, but both climbers died on the descent. Longy died on the wall. Corti was saved. The international team showed courage and ingenuity by launching a steel cable from the top. Alfred Hellepart went down 300 feet, found Corti and pulled him up.

Harrer criticized Corti's climbing skills to smithereens, and said that his version of what happened had nothing to do with reality. He assumed that Corti had killed the German climbers and used their equipment and food. Four years later, the bodies of the German climbers were found, and it became obvious that they died on the descent. The version about the involvement of Corti in their death has not been confirmed. However, Harrer did not even think to apologize.

Interview with Rainer Rettner: Secrets of the Eiger North Face.

Rainer Rettner, a German living near the Bavarian city of Wurzburg, devoted most of his life to the Eiger. His archive contains almost all books ever published, old and new magazines, thousands of newspaper articles and diary entries since 1882. This is one of complete assemblies in the world. Last year, he co-authored with Daniel Anker and published a paper dealing with the case of Corti. His version was fundamentally different from the biased assessment of Heinrich Harer, given by him in the book "The White Spider".

Rettner's last book, Eiger - Triumphe und Tragodien 1932 - 1938, is also the result of meticulous analysis. In it, he describes the first attempts to pass the North Face and the incredible solo attempt that preceded the successful passage of the 38th year, reveals new details of the tragic death of Tony Kurtz. Unique photographs of that time are used as illustrations - piercing evidence of human weakness and courage.

- How did your love for the mountains begin? 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. The first time we visited Grindelwald. As a six-year-old boy, I was deeply impressed by the landscape and the stone giants surrounding the village. Since then, I have dreamed of going back there.
He first became interested in Eiger during a boring summer vacation when he found The White Spider on his father's bookshelf. The story of the North Wall turned out to be incredibly exciting and Harrer became my idol. Gradually, I began to buy books from other authors, for example, Tony Hebler and Arthur Roth. I plunged deeper and deeper into the history of the Eiger. That's how it all started!

- Describing the political background of the first passage of the North Wall, you mention the collaboration of Heinrich Harrer with the Nazis. Have you become disillusioned with your idol, or is he still a great man for you, albeit with a faulty reputation?

First, I was not the first author to talk about Harerr's connections with the Nazis. Gerald Lehner, an Austrian journalist, found his dossier in the German War Archives in Washington. This was in 1997. It is surprising that these facts did not surface earlier. There are at least a few newspaper articles directly talking about 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 when it comes to famous people. Even now, two years after his death, Harrer is very popular in Austria.

There is no doubt that Harrer is convinced of 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 fastened to his tent. There are photographs in my book to prove this. Am I disappointed with his beliefs? Unlikely. It is easy to criticize a person for actions committed seventy years ago, based on 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. The impression was that his memory was too selective. He denied many facts throughout his life, despite their reliability, for example, membership in the SA and the presence of a Nazi flag in his backpack. This indicates a reluctance 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 mythologization 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 to be a prettier and more honest person.

- Yes, dark spots in Harrer's biography do not detract from the dignity of his book. You rightly said that this is a classic. A very strong piece. The chapter on Tony Kurtz touches you 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 ligament and the death of Kurz with his comrades, it is clear that Harrer treated Corti with a clear prejudice.

Despite his remarkable work in recovering the details of Kurz'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 the incident, talking to him on July 21, 1936. Because of the storm, they could hardly shout 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” - “everyone is alive”. The dialogue Harrer described actually took place in the early morning of July 22nd.

Tony Kurtz (left) and Anderl Hinstersteuber, Bavarian Alps.

Harrer also ignored the fact that the guides had a long rope (60 m). Hans Schlunegger, trying to save time, did not put it in the backpack, but fixed the bay between the back and the backpack. In principle, this 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: there would not have been an ill-fated knot on the solid rope that prevented Tony from going down to the guides. But, I am almost sure that his condition was so deplorable that even when he went down, the heavy traverse was not up to him. Harrera justifies the fact that for the first time the full version of those events was announced only in 1996, by guide Arnold Glatthard, who joined the rescuers on July 22, 1936. This shows the importance of this whole story with the rope. But don't blame the Swiss guides. They were first class climbers and did their best to save Tony Kurtz. It was just that luck was not on his side!

A terrible sight opened to the rescuers: the corpse of Tony Kurtz covered with an ice crust.

- While working on the book, you managed to find confirmation of a solo ascent 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 former partner Hans Haidegger that he had 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 lived in Switzerland from early childhood. He was a first-class climber and made the first ascents of difficult walls in Bernese Oberland, such as the Schreckhorn Northwest Face. Or the second ascent of the Lauterbrunnen Breithorn North Face route, very similar to the Eiger route. He did not elaborate on the solo climbing attempt, but made a short note in his diary that I could get from his daughter: “Eiger Nordwand besuch abgestattet allein”, which means “The North Wall has received a lonely guest”. This happened in early August 1937. He later drew a route line on a photograph printed in Toni Hiebeler's 73rd book. It turned out that he climbed straight to the first ice field, passing the Difficult Crack and the Hintersteuser traverse. It is difficult to say whether it was just intelligence, or he hoped to reach the top. A couple of days later, Heideger and Lucie Durand attempted to repeat the route along 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 when it came to Swiss climbers. Loulou Boulaz from Geneva, who climbed the Grand-Jorasse on the Croz-Pillar route, was severely criticized by Swiss journalists for unsuccessful attempt climbing the North Face in July 1937. She was charged with the recklessness of the German and Austrian climbers! Perhaps Heideger, who received Swiss citizenship only in 1942, did not want to get it from the journalist fraternity.

- Are there many unique photographs in the book?

Yes, I believe. 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 got a lot of unique photographs of Anderl Hintersteuser, 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 Ludwig Worg's collection of photographs that were taken during the 1937 attempt. Bern-based photo journalist Hans Steiner provided me with photographs taken at the glaciologists' station during the celebration of the successful attempt on July 24, 1938. I hope the readers will like the two hundred photos that I have selected!

With a heavy backpack

The passage of this bastion gave me a first sense of what the Wall had in reserve; but the fact that I didn’t lose my breath while walking through the crevasse increased my confidence that I was ready for exercise. There is, of course, a huge difference between balancing like a gymnast under a circus dome on even the toughest wall of the Dolomites and climbing the Eiger Wall with a heavy load. But isn't the ability to carry heavy backpacks a necessary skill for every successful climb?

Overcoming the "Difficult Crevice"

Many climbers will use old loops left in the Difficult Crevice to climb. We preferred to free climb. A climber with the skill of Kasparek uses loops only where absolutely unavoidable.

Red plummet

By that time we were just below the "Red Plumb", that smooth wall, thirty meters high, which goes into the sky with licked rocks. According to rules based on human experience, the walls of the mountains sleep peacefully in the early morning, shackled by the night's cold. The stones are frozen and motionless.

But Iger's Wall does not obey any of Queensberry's rules; another example of the fact that she does not give a damn about all the tricks of the people. Stones suddenly fell down. We saw them fly over the edge of the Red Plumb and whistled over us in a wide arc. The wall opened a barrage of fire. We hurried up to get to the bottom of the plumb line faster, where, huddled against the wall, we could feel safe.

Another rockfall rumbled. The stones hit the wall below us, shattering into a thousand pieces. Then we heard Freisl's voice, not a call for help or SOS, just a conversation, one of them got a stone in the head and wounded.

"Something serious? Can I help you?" we asked.

“No, but I'm terribly dizzy. I think we've had enough. We'll have to come back. " "Can you handle it yourself?" "Yes, it's okay." We were sorry that our two Viennese friends could not keep us company, but we did not dissuade them. Thus, Freisl and Brankovski began to descend back down.

Red plummet

Now, before sunrise, the two of us were alone again on the Wall. There were just 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 cliffs, and then, suddenly, we found ourselves at a crossing that Rebich and Förg had dubbed the "Hintersteuser 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 Hintersteuser, who walked this traverse through the first ice field, realizing the complexity of the task.

Tony Kurtz and Andreas Hintersteuser

The deceased Tony Kurtz

Hans Schlunegger, Arnold Glatthard and Adolf Rubi. Guides who tried to save T. Kurz

Failure on such a traverse was fraught with the emergence of a huge "pendulum". We were also full of gratitude to Förg and Rebić for leaving the rope on the traverse - saying hello to us, it was very helpful. We tested the rope to make sure it was securely fastened and can be loaded safely, although it sagged for twelve months under storms and downpours, moisture and cold.

Hintersteuser's traverse. State of the art

From reports, descriptions and photographs, we knew how to go through the traverse. No one, however, explained what to do when the entire wall is covered with drip ice. The rock was completely icy, without a single ledge on which to stand.

On the traverse F.Kasparek

Nevertheless, Fritz traversed with his characteristic amazing skill, balancing on slippery ice, making his way, centimeter by centimeter, meter by meter, across this difficult and treacherous wall. In some places he had to knock snow or a crust of ice off a rock with blows from an ice ax; shards of ice 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, making his way to the left, climbing, hanging on a rope near the rock, from hold to hold, until he reached the far end of the traverse.

G. Harrer passes the traverse, pushing F. Kasparek's backpack

Then I followed, pushing Fritz's backpack, suspended from the railing, in front of me, and soon joined my partner on the other side. Shortly after the traverse we got to the Swallow's Nest, a bivouac site that became famous thanks to Rebić and Fjörg, and there we stopped for a rest and a small 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, the traverse, which is of course one of the most photogenic in all the Alps.

Current state of the Hintersteuser traverse

This prosaic epithet describes a whole story - extreme difficulties, exposure to danger, courage to move. But I would like to take this opportunity right away and correct the misunderstanding: the Hinterstoiser's traverse is undoubtedly one of the key stages of the ascent, but by no means the only one.

Hintersteuser's traverse. Modernity.

This incredibly huge Wall contains numerous key locations that - thanks to the successful return of Rebich and Förg - have by now been scouted to the Death Buvuac of Zedlmeier and Mehringer. We did not yet know what key areas 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 high but expensive target for the best climbers in existence.

"Don't go to the Eiger, papa, don't go there ..."
Epigraph to the story "The White Spider" by G. Harrer

Eiger North Face. The "Wall of Death" or "White Cobra" is perhaps the most notorious 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 North Face can change in a matter of minutes.

There are three famous classic north-facing walls - Grand Joras, Materhorn and Eiger. The first, in 1931, was the Materhorn. 1935 - the wall of the Grand Joras. However, all attempts to pass the Eiger ended in tragedies.

On the basis of one of these dramatic stories, a feature film "The North Wall" was shot, 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 a director who, when asked "WTF?!?" rips his shirt, wringing his hands and shouting: “Grotesque! Allegory!! You don’t understand anything about cinema !!! ”:) But, I repeat, the film is still good - it made me browse the Internet and study the issue in more detail ...

A bit of history:
In 1924 and 1932, Swiss guides made two attempts to storm the Aigernorwand, but they managed to climb only the first quarter of the wall, the easiest section:

Summer 1935 - An attempt at twenty-four-year-old Max Sedlmeier and Karl Mehringer, who was two years older than his partner. However, these guys also suffered a setback - a month after the start of the ascent, German pilot Ernst Udet, flying around the top, found a human body on the wall. It was impossible to see who it was from the plane. The man was standing on the slope to the waist covered with snow 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, Austrians Wili Angerer and Eddie Rainer set up their base camp under the wall:

There they meet two more climbers who wanted to try their luck on the Eiger. They were the servicemen of the German mountain rifle troops Anderl Hinterstossser and Tony Kurtz. Both were 23 years old, and both had several first ascents of the sixth category:

On August 17, 1936, the climbers, united, go out 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 traverse along it. Nevertheless, a solution was found. Hintersteusser, who was the most skilled climber of the four, made his way to the ledge above the slab, hammered in a grappling hook and clicked on the belay. He managed to fly like a pendulum to the other side, and gain a foothold there. The rest got over, holding on to Hintersteusser's belay with their hands. This is one of the key places on the way to the top now called the Hinterstoiser traverse:

It was at this moment that the climbers made the mistake of removing the rope along which they traversed. 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 go back. The traverse of the Hinterstoiser in the opposite direction is impassable:

After passing the traverse, Willy Angerer, who was walking third in a bunch, gets a small stone in the head. In the 30s of the last century, none of the climbers had protective helmets; they climbed in thick knitted hats. After two nights on the wall, it became clear that the wounded Willie Angerer was completely exhausted. It was necessary to descend:

By the time we approached the Hintersteuser traverse, the weather began to deteriorate, fog fell on the wall. Hintersteusser tried to repeat his success: for almost five hours, he continuously tried to traverse a wet, smooth rock 30 meters wide in order to secure the belay at the other end, but each time he fell off. Only now did all four realize what a mistake they made by removing the rope, and thus cutting off their way back. The climbers had no choice - they had to go down a steep slope about 230 meters high, by rappelling. If successful, they could reach the cornice below, moving along which, reach the underground railway adit and escape ...

At about 2 o'clock in the afternoon, Andreas Hintersteusser, who was walking first, untied the belay connecting him to the others, and began to drive in the last hook. And at that moment an avalanche descended on the climbers. Hintersteusser was immediately swept into the abyss. The avalanche also blew Tony Kurtz and Willie Angerer off the wall. Hanging on the belay, the wounded Angerer hit the wall from full swing and died almost immediately. Only Eduard Reiner held on to the top, but a stretched rope pressed him against the wall and crushed his chest. Tony Kurtz was not hurt. He found himself hanging over an abyss. Below him was Angerer, above him was Rainer, both dead ...

The railway tunnel inside the mountain has one window that opens directly onto 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 to the climber, but severe bad weather prevented rescue work and the rescuers returned to the tunnel. Tony Kurtz was left hanging over the precipice alone. All night:

The rescuers returned the next day, early in the morning. It's hard to imagine what Tony had to endure on this endless night, but he was still alive. However, rescuers were unable to get close to Kurtz. The guides said that if Tony lowered the rope for them, they would give him everything he needed. But Kurtz could not do it - he had no rope, no hooks, no carabiners, no hammer. In addition, he lost his mitten, and his left hand was frostbitten and no longer worked. Kurtz had to climb up to Rainer's body hanging above him, tie up all the ropes that were possible, and lower the rescuers. In the photo, the guides who tried to save Tony Kurtz:

Only after six! the end of a rope with a stone tied to it appeared. The rescuers tied the rope and the necessary equipment and Kurtz began to select the load upstairs. At the last moment, it turned out that the 30-meter rope was missing and one of the guides was tying another rope. Exhausted Kurtz begins the descent, but when there are literally a few meters to the end, the knot is tightly jammed in the carbine. The last unexpected obstacle drained 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 Heckmair, Fritz Kasparek and Ludwig Wörg. Heinrich Harrer later wrote the book "The White Spider" about the first ascent of the northern face of the Eiger. And climber Joe Simpson, who miraculously escaped from a similar situation, removed documentary"Alluring silence" about these events.

After the First World War, European mountaineering changed. The image of a wealthy English gentleman accompanied by several guides was becoming 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 pass routes that were considered outrageous a decade ago. To do this, they invented new equipment - Hans Prusik invented the Prusik knot, and Hans Dülfer invented the rappelling descent.

However, in 1936, there were no ice augers or ice hammers with ingenious beaks. Even the front teeth on crampons, which allow either to get by with smaller steps or not to chop them at all, were invented by Grievel just three years earlier and were extremely rare.

What these guys were doing then, in my opinion, is comparable to the first spacewalk. And no matter how they try to attribute them to psychos and suicides, I sincerely believe that it is thanks to such people that humanity is continuously developing and moving forward.

P.S. On February 13, 2008, Swiss Ueli Steck reached the summit along the Eiger North Face in 2 hours and 47 minutes. Free style solo, no safety rope!

In 1858, the Irishman Charles Barrington arrives in Grindelwald. His mountaineering experience is limited, but Barrington is a great athlete, winner of the Great National Races, so he believes that he can make a serious climb. At first, he wants to climb the unconquered Matterhorn, but his finances and the time allotted for the trip are already running out, so he turns his attention to the mountain that is visible from the window of his hotel - the Eiger.

August 10 at 3.30 a.m. Barrington sets out to assault on west slope the mountains. He is accompanied by two experienced guides - Christian Almer and Peter Bohren. Climbing is not easy for them, and several times difficult wet rocks almost make them turn back. But the Irishman is stubborn, and at 12 o'clock all three reach the top. The path of the first climbers - the easiest route to the summit - was later used for descending the mountain or for lifting rescue teams. Barrington is well known in Great Britain, and after his stories, English climbers begin to come to Grindelwald to climb the Eiger, the mountain becomes popular.

In 1864, Lucy Walker climbed the Eiger, who, in addition to becoming the first woman on the Eiger, is known for her peculiar diet. During the ascent, she ate exclusively biscuit cakes, and drank only champagne.
In 1867, the Englishman John Tyndall first drew attention to the north face of the Eiger. The description given by him in the story about the ascent makes everyone understand that there is nothing to dream of climbing this wall.
So, Eiger conquered, what next? And then what happened to all the alpine peaks - after climbing the simplest path, attempts begin to go along other, more difficult routes.
In 1786 G.E. Foster, with his guide Hans Bauman, climbs the southern ridge. Eight years later, the southeast ridge is subdued. And again, the composition was standard for those years: the British Anderson and Baker, the Swiss guides Urich Almer and Alois Pollinger.
In 1885, a group of local guides, climbing the western slope, descends from the east along the unexploited ridge of Mittelleggi.
In 1921, this ridge, which leads to the summit directly from the village of Grindelwald, attracted the young Japanese climber Yuko Maki. Accompanied by three guides, he manages to make the first ascent along this ridge. Thirty-five years later, Yuko Maki will become known as the leader of the successful ascent of the eight-thousander Manaslu.
In 1927, Japanese climbers, again accompanied by Swiss guides, climbed another route to the Eiger - along the southeast face.
In 1932, two Swiss climbers - Hans Lauper and Hans Zürcher - accompanied by the Swiss guides Joseph Knubel and Alexander Graven, pass the northeast ridge, later called the Lauper ridge.
This ridge, bounding the north wall on the left, was the most difficult route taken on the Eiger. Excluding the wall itself, of course.

After the First World War, European mountaineering changed. The image of a wealthy English gentleman accompanied by several guides was becoming 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 pass routes that were considered outrageous a decade ago. To do this, they invented new equipment.
Back in 1900, German mountaineer Otto Herzog adapted a carabiner used by firefighters since the mid-nineteenth century in order to snap a rope on an ascent. Since then, the carbine has been an invariable part of the climbing kit.

Before the war Hans Prussik invented the grasping knot (""), which crawls along the rope, if you move it carefully, but grasps it tightly when jerking.

Hans Dyulfer invented (more precisely, spied on acrobats) a method of descending a rope (classic).

Both died in the war, but to this day climbers often insure themselves with a prusik and rappel from the walls. And, of course, rocky hooks. A wide variety of shapes and sizes. A hook driven into a crack, with a rope attached to it with a carabiner, became a reliable means of belay. It was possible to fasten a rope loop into the hook and stand in it with your foot. Or even sit down. With hooks, you could attach yourself to the wall and spend the night on a shelf half the size of a desk, without fear of falling into the abyss in a dream.
The British and Swiss looked down on all this disgrace and called the young wall climbers extremists. They remained adherents of a pure style: a rope thrown over the shoulder, in hand -. The wall routes that the Germans and Austrians climbed did not appeal to them.
Wili Welzenbach, who died in 1934 on the Karakorum eight-thousander, in the twenties develops the first route classification system.

After passing the northern wall of the Matterhorn in 1931 and four years later the northern wall of Grand-Jorasse, only the Eiger remains of the great alpine walls. The northern wall of the Eiger with a height of 1800 meters, is like a concave chest of a person on inhalation - relatively gentle lower slopes and vertical and even negative slopes in the upper part.

Rockfalls and avalanches almost constantly go from the upper part of the wall to the lower slopes. The railway, which was laid inside the mountain in 1912, adds some finishing touch to the history of the conquest of the Eigernordwend. Thus, in the left - eastern - part of the wall, several windows of the Eigerwend station appeared, and in the western right - a strong wooden door Stollenloch (literally - a hole in the tunnel).

In 1924 and 1932. the Swiss guides made two attempts to storm the Aigernorwand, but they managed to climb only the first quarter of the wall, the easiest section.

Drama # 1

In the summer of 1935, two mountaineers from Munich came to Grindelwald - twenty-four-year-old Max Sedlmeier and Karl Mehringer, who was two years older than his partner. Both, despite their youth, were already known as "category six climbers", so no one doubted what goal they set for themselves - of course Eigernordwand. Local guides agreed on their assessment: "These guys are crazy."

For a week, the climbers studied the wall optically. Mehringer "ran" along a simple western slope to the summit to leave a supply of food there, and at the same time scout the descent path in case he had to go down to bad weather... Now they were only waiting for a suitable forecast. On August 21, at three o'clock in the morning, the Bavarians go out on the wall. They are going to go through it in three days, but they carry food for six. As soon as the sun came out, Saddlemeier and Mehringer crossed the first rocky bastion at a good pace, and settled for the night above the windows of the Eigervend station. Their route ran more to the left than all subsequent attempts, so the note they left at the bivouac was only found in 1976! The whole next day, the audience watched as the bunch overcomes the next rocky belt and the first ice field. The first ice field is a glacier on the slopes of the wall, the average steepness is 55 degrees. To overcome the ice slopes at that time, it was necessary to cut down a chain of steps, securing themselves through the so-called. carrots are heavy steel ice hooks that require a lot of force to hammer and special accuracy.

Carrots - the first ice hooks