Praxmar, Stubai Alps, Austria — February 2019
The following are diary entries from a few days of a eight day ice climbing trip to Austria. The first four days were learning ice climbing with the German Alpine Association (DAV) - there were four participants and one instructor. The last four days were practicising it on our own without the instructor.
16 Feb — Arrival
I was quite happy to be here, joyous at the sight of the mountains covered in snow crowned by sunlight, clear skies. Upon arriving in Praxmar, we decided to take a walk and Benno, our instructor, showed us various icefalls that we would climb in the coming days. Excitement gurgled inside me — what an adventure it would be. These blue formations, which exist only during these few months of winter and turn to water during the summer. The thought of it — of climbing on water. The things that man comes up with. Back in our mountain hut, Benno started talking about the equipment, about ice climbing. Benno loves to talk.
The lavishness of these mountain huts always astounds me. I want simplicity, not extravagance here in the mountains. And then this breakfast, with pretty much everything — knowing full well that people can’t eat so much, at least most of us. How will you do any kind of sport with a stomach that weighs a ton and gurgles with food every time you move a leg? I yearn for this simplicity. And then there was the contrast with Lenny and Julian, the other two participants of the course, who slept and ate from their van, got food from the containers and cooked themselves. All these things came to my mind when I especially had dinner. It hurt me. I felt like a disgrace.
Anyway, for breakfast I usually had croissants with scrambled eggs and jam, then a big espresso and sometimes juice, one day also Bircher Muesli — I first had it at the Diavolezza Hütte in Switzerland and it is delicious. One makes it by mixing muesli and fruits in milk or yoghurt and allowing the muesli to soak overnight.
17 Feb — The Blues
The day began beautifully but ended with an ache, a foot ache, a pain. I got the blues.
I slept patchily at night. And somewhere in the misery of a throbbing toenail I found myself writing in capitals: NOW RIGHT NOW I AM DECIDING NOT TO GO IN THE MOUNTAINS AND STAY AT THESE EXPENSIVE AND LUXURIOUS GUEST HOUSES. It happened in the summer and it is happening again and I hate it. Paying so much for this luxury that I don’t want. I just want food — no four course meal, just plain food and a warm place to sleep. I don’t care for saunas or even bathrooms. And because of this blue nail, I am not feeling particularly positive. I guess no one but me can resolve this.
19 Feb — Sleepless, Then Gasthausfall
At some point in the night my mind woke me up and started reciting the commands and actions one had to undertake when one builds a Stand, does partner check, or changes the Vorsteiger. And it just didn’t stop. I wanted to sleep for another hard day on the icefall but sleep didn’t come. I lay there waiting for it to pass. Just about when it almost did, Max’s alarm rang at 06:30, and I knew I had to get up.
I packed my bag quickly and readied myself — two layers of dried socks from the room heater, a fleece lining under waterproof pants, a merino base layer followed by a warm fleece, and on top the blue waterproof jacket. If it got cold or while belaying I had a down jacket in the rucksack.
In the rucksack went at the very bottom the rain cover. The bag holds the cold relatively well. Then on top came food — a piece of bread and a box with jaggery bars and figs. Then the down jacket, then the gear: slings, carabiners, ice screws, quickdraws, belay device — all on one sling. Then two parts of the shovel, my crampons in their crampon bag, and at last the helmet. There were two reasons to this order: as soon as we approach an icefall, one has to immediately wear the helmet, take out the shovel in case of an avalanche, and then wear the crampons.
I kept gloves, cap and buff in the outside pocket; meds, emergency blanket, the beacon and the headlamp on the inside. Benno said the headlamp goes as part of the emergency kit. The thermos I filled with tea. Also in the bag: the hydration pack for water.
Day 1 — Gasthausfall
Benno came from his room with his two files and showed us how to file the frontal teeth of crampons. He said it is sensible to invest in a nice filer. He himself had two, one with coarse grooving and another much finer — he liked the latter. He began filing the tip of the crampon teeth, the part which are the first to break the ice and grip when one kicks one’s feet. Soon the blunt tip became sharp like a V. He left to keep his filer back, then came back a few minutes later saying that Lenny and Julian were still in the middle of breakfast and that he would file my second crampon, since he felt weird to complete only half of the job. So soon I had two sharpened crampons.
We went outside from the Skiroom at 8 to meet the others. The day was beautiful, the mountains laced with snow, the blue sky with only a few whispers of clouds, the fresh, crisp and cold air. I felt delighted and joyous.
At the parking place, where Julian had parked his VW bus, Lenny was still brushing his teeth. When Julian started the bus and we were on our way, the same feeling gripped me like the days before — that I had forgotten some essential piece of equipment and would be filled with shame and horror when I discovered it later. Though this never happened, the drive to the icefall always left me a bit anxious.
Since Julian had already climbed all these icefalls two weeks before, he knew the way. We parked on the roadside, got all our gear and started the approach. Benno said he wanted to change the climbing teams — me with Julian, and Max with Lenny. The aim: we should lead climb, build an anchor, and belay the person behind us.
The icefall called “Gasthausfall” or Guesthouse falls was before me and my face must have betrayed my apprehension because Julian asked me if he should lead the first pitch. And so off he went on the left side, as I belayed him, inserting ice screws as he made his way up. Simulatenosuly, Max started to lead climb their section of the pitch, some 4 meters away. Only two meters from the floor, the crampon on his left shoe came loose. He struggled to find a good grip — dangling from both ice axes. After the initial moments of shock, he got a hold of himself, quickly put in an ice screw, called Zu, on which command Lenny, who was belaying him tightened the rope. He descended safely and heaved a sigh of relief.
Above me, Julian went over a ledge, some 20 meters of rope already taken, and I couldn’t see him any more. He soon shouted Stand and I took him out of the belay device. I climbed up, hacking my way through the ice, taking out the ice screws, then shaking them vigorously until the ice inside came out, before clipping them to a carabiner on my harness.
Julian asked me if I wanted to lead the second part. I looked onto the wall — it was also steep — but said yes. I had to do it someday, and this day had to be today.
Already on the second pitch, I had trouble inserting the ice screw in the ice and with every second of delay I was panicking. First my calf muscles started burning, then my arms. Lenny, who was now not far from me and leading the second pitch, told me to breathe deeply and be calm. The ice axes were jammed fairly well but the feet felt like they would break away from the wall at any instant. While fiddling with the ice screw, I dropped one below. Then took the second one and pleaded it to get in and it did.
With one screw gone and three on the wall, Julian pointed that I only had two more left to go all the way to the top and so I should calculate where I screw them in. I looked at the wall above me — I had to get past a steep section some 3 meters above me, and after that I could rest a bit. And so I rather hurriedly went straight to the ledge and rested there. I proceeded without putting an anchor and some two meters above saw a tree branch sticking through the ice. I threw a slning arond it, put in the quick draw and brought the rope inside it. Furter up was another tree with old slings hanging on it - that’s it, this was the end. I made an anchor around the tree, attached myself to it and cried Stand. I wanted to be correct — I was belaying someone for the first time from the top. Julian was soon on the top, and so was Lenny taking another route. Julian said I did well. I felt good, having made my first ever anchor, unaided on the ice.
Day 3 — Sir Max and Atlantis
Julian and Lenny hurried off to the nearby icefall called Atlantis, hoping to start on the ice as soon as possible and prepare a few top ropes. Atlantis was the biggest icefall till now, with characteristic ice columns and giant icicles at the top.
Julian went charging up the left side, hacking his way through the ice like cutting down brambles in a jungle. Throughout, I was awed by the relative ease with which he moved forward — strong, confident moves, the work of a master sculptor. He almost hopped his way upwards. I tried emulating his movements and flow but the ice did not give way to me as easily.
I was next, top-roping the route that Julian had just created.
Imagine that everything that you want is inside you, that it is somewhere hidden inside you, and what you have to do is search.
Imagine that everything that you want is inside you, that it is somewhere hidden inside you, and what you have to do is search. That searching is what you have to learn, and of course the patience that comes with this searching.
Initially I found ice climbing to be quite dull — it is the idea, the imagination of it that makes it exciting. The idea that you can walk up this slippery material, where even walking can be tough. And then this image, of a person hanging on this slippery wall, another below. There is this monotony of exactly hacking your way up. The caterpillar movement: hack your right ice axe, then the left one at approximately the same height — keeping your hip in and your chest out, to see what is ahead and get a nice swing movement to drive the axe in. When both axes are firmly in, you move your hip outwards, gripping the axes tight, and move your feet up one by one, the angle of attack not directly in but at a slight angle upwards, so that when you move up, your feet are almost perpendicular to the wall.
When you go up, I was always on the lookout for natural holes in the ice — they felt so secure. The worst was the slippery tight ice, where driving the foot was hard, and the near-vertical sections, where I couldn’t get enough leeway for my knee to drive my feet in. So I used to strike with my ice axes, and quite often, just by the sound I knew I had driven in nicely; other times one had to break the first few layers to find a nice spot.
Day 5 — Rechte Doppellotscher
Hannis, Max’s brother, was a new addition. The idea was to show him a bit of ice climbing, show what we had learned in the past days.
A day before, I had found myself climbing pretty confidently up the left icefall. How much could the difference be between the left, rated 2-3, and the right one, rated 4?
Arriving at the base, I looked up at the vertical sections of ice. We first gave Hannis a brief introduction and I set up a top rope. I was becoming confident in my strides with the tools — it felt good to be sure, to know it would work, that I could do sections without rope.
All geared up — 11 ice screws in total, 6 on the right and 5 on the left, express slings across my chest, a sling for the anchor, a 60 cm sling, a 120 cm sling — I bore the first ice screw at the bottom of the icefall and went up. Some 2.5 meters up, I heard Hannis below asking Max: when does he put the second screw?
It’s his decision, came Max’s reply.
Shouldn’t he put it already? If he falls, I will be dragged upwards, replied Hannis.
I overheard and looked down. Shit, probably yes. I stopped and brought my right hand to the karabiner where the ice screws were hanging. With so many hanging there, it was terribly difficult getting one out. I fiddled around, gave up, changed hands. I managed to take out the ice screw and started twisting it into the ice. It didn’t get in. My right hand burnt. I put the screw in my mouth and felt the tinge of cold metal and the sharp teeth of the ice screw. My arms were burning and my feet didn’t feel confident to take my weight. I took the screw to my right hand and began again.
It went in.