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.