Story and Photos by Martin Moser and Arnold Senfter - mahrapower.com
August 2006. At some point, between millions of raindrops, the third, and the fourth beer, we speak about the aims for the upcoming winter. Martin, with a big smile from one ear to the next, suggests trying ourselves in the Bellavista on the Cima Ovest … and I cannot help but think he is crazy, or at least drunk. A few days later the same ideas dance around in his head, so I try to make friends, too. Well, we could try it … and if necessary I can always jumar behind Martin and let him do the job.
Beginning of November, the first snow falls down the sky, and we walk in the direction of the Tre Cime to give the route a closer look and to deposite the first material at the bottom of the wall. It was already clear from the very beginning that the project was going to be a battle of material. Unfortunately this day is one my few good days and so it happens: Full of motivation I say, that I’m going to do the first pitch – knowing that according to Alexander Huber the first was the most dangerous of all pitches. Close to the wall nothing seems too bad, the first piton was seven meters high…but I’ll do it!
Scene change: 6th of January 2007. Somehow we manage - with to fully packed rucksacks - to get to the Rifugio Auronzo. The plan is to pitch our bed there in the wintercamp and to handle the tour in the next two days. The clock rings very early and with an amazing sunset in the back we trudge for one hour to the bottom of the wall. Without knowing what to expect I carry all possible material, squeeze myself together with the woollen socks of my grandma in the climbing shoes and take a deep breath. First of all we want to climb technically, but taking into account the few pitons there is no other possibility then climbing it free. And even the few pitons don’t seem to be very trustful. At some time, 20 meters above the ground, I manage to put a reliable Camalot in a whole and for the first time I feel secure. No idea, if the previously pitons would have survived a fall – probably not.
In the meantime I lost the feeling in my hands and feet, and because of the cold wind it is time to come to the belay. 15 meters above, a few really difficult freeclimbing meters higher and after some technopassages I see the saving bolts on the belay. Just a few moves and I can clip myself in the bolts. I cannot believe that I did some of the most difficult pitches of my life. While Martin is jumaring up the rope, I pull up the rucksack with all the material. I’m happy and relaxed, especially because I have a break now and it’s Martin’s turn to lead. And only therefore I don’t even mind that while jumaring he breaks out two of the pitons with his bare hands. And this two little pitons should have saved my life?!
The next pitches are not easy, but somehow we feel able to reach the end. With all the tricks of the technoclimbing we get higher, even if there are hardly as many pitons as we thought. Freeclimbing still dominates – the holds seem to be wet and even putting the hands into the chalk-bag doesn’t help because we forgot to fill it up…
And the typical loose rock of the Tre Cime helps to slow down the movements. Therefore it is no wonder that in the fourth pitch Martin steps on a foothold and that breaks out and hits me with the full power. Blood gushes from my wound and everything gets black in front of my eyes, I become hot and I’m afraid of fainting. After a minute full of fear and pain I check my wounded hand… but nothing seems to be broken. Good’s sake!
Some hours later we succeeded in the first four pitches and only one last pitch separated us from the beginning of the big roof. It would be my turn to lead but I’m too tired and I don’t have any motivation left. And I have a good excuse: we haven’t drunk since the beginning of the climbing, because at one point our rucksack clashed towards the cliffs and our Thermo can broke…. In a very diplomatic way I suggest to abseil and to continue the next day, because it would get dark soon and we would have plenty of time the next day… But Martin has no sympathy and says that until the darkness there was still one hour left! So I accepted my destiny and started. Cramps accompany me through the whole pitch, but I manage to set a few good friends into the overhanging crack. And I feel secure in some ways. Together with the darkness I reach the belay. Unbelievable! The roof starts exactly next to my head and ends in the deep night. We sort and fix the material, eat a few crunches and abseil the five pitches with the torch.
Tired but very satisfied we march towards Rifugio Auronzo, still hoping, that somebody is waiting there for us. Somebody who has already melted the snow and cooked our noodles. But of course our wishes weren’t heard and we have to overcome our tiredness to cook and not to fall immediately in the warm sleeping bags. While we eat, we let the day pass in front of our eyes. What would have happened, if I felt in the first pitch? And what, if the cliff had moved when Martin fell into it after his feet slipped away? Better not to think too long and sleep. One minute later both of us are already dreaming.
The next day welcomes us with lots of clouds. Quickly we reach the tour and start to jumar. The day before we had fixed the ropes up to the roof, now we are can pass all the passages quite easily. And I realize now for the first time which great performance we did yesterday - and which devil must have ridden Alexander Huber the day he managed this area alone and in wintertime.
A tiny crack starts left from the belay directly into the roof. Relaxed we see that the density of pitons gets higher. Martin starts, armed with loads of carabiners, pitons and friends, nuts, cliffs and ladders. I try to sit comfortably on the wooden chair we brought and lean in my chest harness. An old rope is fixed from here to the next belay, but we don’t dare to use it. Martin gets higher quickly, some parts he climbs free, some he masters technically. After 20 metres he reaches a belay, which seems to be very uncomfortable but at least more then reliable. Of course we are happy and like secure belays, but nevertheless we consider four bolts simply too much. I reach Martin too, jumaring and pulling on the pitons. Some of them bend themselves like soft iron. Which wonder, that they haven’t broken out already because of the gravity.
I turn around and see the last belay. And again it reminds me of Alexander: first ascend, alone, cold and in the winter. I cannot more then shaking my head…
At the belay I realise what we are doing… I turn my head left and there it is… the line I should lead! The first meters are like a torture, the movements are clumsy, I’m very afraid. And the big anxiety blocks me totally. Of course I know that even falling nothing happens to me, not even a little wound, so much air is there under me! But nevertheless – angst is angst! After a few meters I manage to calm myself a little bit. The steepness is still bothering me, but I try to concentrate and to believe in the old and groggy pitons.
Here a piton, there a mini-nut, and with the speed of a snail I move higher. I have to use a very strange formation of pitons – a U-piton put into a whole, and there in the middle a small piton - and I just hope that the whole roof is going to break out… I cannot stand the tension anymore… but nothing happens!
These 35 meters seem to be longer then eternity… Towards the end I don’t have enough carabiners and I produce a linkage like on a bad-jokes party! But I reach the end! Martin follows quickly and enters in the last pitch. Two roofs and one traverse, in total 20 metres, are waiting for Martin. He speeds up, because it is already late. Just a few metres below the belay he stops! What has happened? I hear him swearing and see him sweating… but it takes him only few seconds to overcome the passage and he fixes the belay with loud jodlering. I follow him but because of the traverse I have to jump a few times into my jumars. It doesn’t matter, because the only direction I want to go is upwards. Immediately we start to abseil because our torches are in the rucksack at the beginning of the roof. Partly abseiling and party hanging, partly still in brightness and partly already in the darkness we reach the rucksack! A gulp of tea and down we go! At the end the rope gets in a muddle and we have to leave it there… we reach the bottom of the wall in the pitch-black night, where Martin Kopfsguter, is already waiting for us to help with the transport of all the material!
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