The Mammoth Book of Mountain Disasters Page 6
We reviewed the overall situation and came to the conclusion that there was still some hope for Sedlmayr and Mehringer, if they had found a sheltered bivouac site. Swiss airmen had already flown across the face three times, for an hour on each occasion, but without success. Now it was very cloudy, though we hoped that the following day we should be able to search the wall ourselves with the telescope. We dumped our gear at the start of the climb for, in the event of a rescue bid, we should start from the same spot. Should the weather permit (which we doubted in view of the constant avalanches) we proposed setting out the next day. For the time being we stationed ourselves in a barn and, as agreed, sent reports on the rescue situation back to Grindelwald, from where Munich was informed. Friday, 30 August was a beautiful clear day. We travelled to the Eigergletscher station on the Jungfraubahn and there split into two groups. Haber and Prosel climbed the West Flank of the Eiger to get a view of the face from there. The rest of us went up the railway tunnel to just below the Eiger window. Here there are a few galleries giving access on to the wall. They were originally used for dumping rubble during the construction of the tunnel. We attempted to get on to the face by the gallery window closest to the route. It transpired that the conditions were as bad as they could be, but we still wanted to make an attempt. Peters went out on to the face belayed on a double rope. Because of the heavy snowfalls of the previous few days, it was quite wintry and during this time avalanches, some of them formidable, thundered down, often releasing great clouds of powder snow. Obviously, any search work would be very difficult in these conditions; the danger was so great that after a few hours we had to give up the idea of getting any further out on to the face. The rock was covered with an ice layer 10-cm thick; no sooner had we cut steps than they were immediately filled with cascading powder snow. So, back to the gallery window.
The Swiss flyers were not idle this day either; they took photographs, hoping that something would be revealed when they were blown up. From this visual material and various observations we concluded that a spine of rock on the Second Icefield would probably have seemed a logical line to the two mountaineers. So they had possibly left their bivouac equipment and rucksacks beneath it and attempted to climb it in reconnaissance. But they must soon have realised that it wasn’t feasible and therefore descended to their rucksacks – this clambering up and down had been observed by a gamekeeper. They then bivouacked in a niche they had already found and probably due to the cold and the snow storm went to sleep never to awake. It seemed to all of us that something like this must have happened. To reach the Death Bivouac, as it was later called, in good weather would be possible only with great difficulty and risk. We would need to consider carefully whether it was feasible and indeed justifiable to undertake such a venture to recover two corpses. We decided to wait until the next morning. Two more Munich climbers arrived to strengthen our team, Hans Teufel and Albert Herbst.
The next day, Saturday, the six of us went up to the start of the face. From very early in the morning avalanches of stones and snow were hurtling down, as if trucks were continuously dumping their loads off the top. They were sweeping the wall like torrents. The marginal crevasses going round under the face were filled with avalanched snow. Despite the poor visibility, we decided to proceed to climb to the Eiger window in three parties. That was a wearisome business, traversing upwards, for one minute we were in an avalanche runnel that was so hard in places we needed crampons, then it was ploughing through fresh deep powder snow. At 14.00 hours the sun came out and all hell let loose. Avalanches like a great barrage opened up unpredictably all over the wall. It meant we had to take cover from these under overhangs and in holes as quickly as possible and wait until 19.00 hours when the sun had crept off the summit rocks. The face soon became quieter and in a short time everything was frozen, covered in ice. We were certain that the missing men could not be lying on the lower section of the Eigerwand, the middle of which is smooth and steep. In the event of a fall nothing would come to rest here. Tired and depressed we retreated to Alpiglen. There we discussed our efforts so far and resolved to go up the West Flank right to the summit the next day and from there descend the wall.
On Sunday, 1 September, we went to the Eigergletscher station again equipped with high-power binoculars and a tripod. The West Flank was certainly the easiest route to the Eiger summit at 3,975 metres, despite the fact that the conditions demanded good climbing know-how, and as we had to scramble up every ridge and eminence that gave us a clear view, great care was necessary. It was all in vain; we didn’t see any sign of our friends. We reached the summit around midday and by descending the ridge a short way to the north-east, we had a good view of the North Face. To climb down this wall, however, was impossible at that time because several cornices overhung the ridge; there was besides two metres of snow lying on the summit and we could not find the food dump left by the two missing men. A descent would have required at least three bivouacs and indeed whether it would still be possible during the remainder of that year was the big question. Powder snow avalanches continually leapt down the face. So again we had to return to our base having achieved nothing.
On Monday another attempt was made to get on to the face from the Eiger window, but again it had to be called of as the weather conditions had hardly improved at all since Friday. With heavy hearts we now resolved to abandon the attempt because of the advanced time of year and the deep-winter-type conditions. It seemed impossible to us that the two could still be alive. We had tried everything humanly possible, but the unanimous view of the company was that not only would any further attempt put our own lives at risk, it would be irresponsible and foolhardy. The mountain was stronger than human skill or will. But we resolved that the following year we would come again and bring down our dead comrades and return home with them.
Back in Grindelwald everyone was most sympathetic over the fate of the two lost men. We took our leave and made arrangements with the Swiss guides that, should there be an unexpectedly fine autumn and the face become free of snow, we would return. We had experienced the fullest co-operation from all quarters, including the Swiss authorities.
The journey back to Munich was a bad one; it rained very heavily and we were still very preoccupied with the trauma of the search. At Berne the sun suddenly appeared and our spirits rose. We were starving but had little money and we wondered how we should overcome this problem. Then Rudi Peters had a bright idea. He knew a well-known writer who lived near Berne whom he wanted to visit. With luck, he said, we should get plenty of food there. He was right! A great spread was provided and we sat around the table and ate our fill. Nor did the hospitality end there; the writer’s wife made us masses of sandwiches for our journey. But we had barely gone twenty kilometres when we came to a big orchard. We all agreed that this would make a delectable interlude as the apples were asking to be picked. Naturally, both sandwiches and apples disappeared in this impromptu picnic – climbers are renowned for their prodigious appetites. The journey back was a pleasant one after the rigours we had been through and our Kompressorwagen went like a dream; we were able once more to smile on life and enjoy the wonderful scenery and the fact that we were alive.
After a few weeks we heard from Grindelwald that pilot Oberst Udet with the mountain guide, Fritz Steuri, had made a flight across the Eiger face and had sighted one of the missing men at the Death Bivouac. He was sitting huddled up, face on hands, and the snow reached to above his knees. It was assumed that his companion was probably still in his bivvy sack buried under the snow. This flight proved that due to the heavy snow it would be totally impossible to recover them till the following year. For the victims’ parents it was some small comfort to know at least where they were.
In the spring 1936 we were in touch with Grindelwald again. We received regular reports on weather and the snow conditions on the face. On 5 July I went with the then leader of the German Bergwacht, R. Siebenwurst, to Grindelwald to arrange accommodation for our rescue team and to d
iscuss the situation with the local guides. These men knew their mountain better than anyone and could give the best advice. We also intended to take a look at the face from the West Flank to see if a plan I had hatched would prove possible to put into practice.
On the West Flank at about 3,500 metres there is a gap in the ridge into which a chimney from the North Face leads. This chimney is some 150 metres long and links up with the band of rock that crosses the face (the upper limit of the Third Icefield). I now thought that we could abseil down this chimney by means of a 6-mm wire rope from a winch established on the ridge. Traversing the band would then not be so desperate as there were good belay possibilities at the junction of the ice and rock. But most of all the retreat and recovery of men and equipment could be guaranteed more quickly and safely. We wanted to get everything ready on the spot.
When we got to the Eigergletscher station we learned of an accident a couple of days earlier on the Schneehorn to two of our last year search helpers. Hans Teufel was dead, and Bertl Herbst injured in Lauterbrunnen hospital. After a successful ascent on the extremely difficult North Face of the Schneehorn, an ice peg had pulled out on the descent. Teufel fell and died instantly from a broken neck. Herbst only sustained a few grazes and bruises. He had to pass the night beside his friend on the ice and it was only the next day that his cries for help were heard by the Eigergletscher station. We enquired at the hospital after Herbst and were told by the doctor that we could take him back to Munich with us in a couple of days’ time. All sorts of rumours were abroad; some said the pair had been in training for the Eiger Nordwand, others that the two had been sent out to see what the conditions were like with a view to recovering last year’s victims.
After we completed the reconnaissance from the West Flank we descended and near Scheidegg met the first two recruits for an Eiger attempt that year, two Austrians, Edi Rainer and Willi Angerer. We visited them in their tent at the foot of the face. Both were splendid young men and made a good impression as climbers. The day we left Grindelwald they made their first recce of the wall. As for us, we drove round to Lauterbrunnen and collected Bertl Herbst. He was very depressed and could barely reconcile himself to the death of his friend. It was tough that the mountain had again demanded a victim, and very painful for him to return home without his climbing companion.
Once back in Munich we learned via the communications network we had organised that Rainer and Angerer had got company. Toni Kurz, a guide, and Anderl Hinterstoisser, a climber from Berchtesgaden, had set up their tent close by, having come from the Dolomites where they had climbed some of the hardest routes, including the North Face of the Cima Grande. They were apparently very fit and experienced. There was no rivalry between them; in true mountaineering spirit they made a joint reconnaissance climb and discussed their plans and proposals together. On the 17th the weather was somewhat better and on the 18th the two parties were able to make a start on the face. They had dumped food and equipment up to 3,000 metres.
The major difficulties began from the bivouac site below the Rote Fluh. Angerer and Rainer had already had an abortive attempt on this section. An overhang was passed on the right and the easier terrain reached by an extremely difficult overhanging crack, about the level of the First Icefield. Now, however, steep smooth slabs blocked the way to the Icefield. However Hinterstoisser overcame these difficulties with panache. He traversed using a rope in a pendulum movement. They now reached the first bivouac site which had taken last year’s contenders two days. They had reached in one day the same level as Sedlmayr and Mehringer’s third bivouac. It was obvious to all who watched that the two parties were moving well and working as a unit. On the Sunday morning the four climbers were seen to leave their bivouac. Shortly afterwards a veil of cloud encircled the mountain and nothing could be seen, but above the clouds the top third of the mountain was showing throughout that Sunday. The reappearance of the climbers was awaited with much anxiety. But nothing happened. Neither party was visible beyond the spot where Mehringer and Sedlmayr were seen for the last time the previous year, before the storm enshrouded the mountain.
Shortly before 8.00 am on the Monday the climbers were seen again, continuing their attempt, albeit very slowly. But something was amiss. Towards midday, shortly before the face was again covered by mist, all four were back in their Sunday bivouac. There was much speculation amongst the various observers manning the telescopes. Had they given up? Were the difficulties insuperable? Or had something happened to one of them that prevented their continuing? Several people noticed that one of the climbers didn’t seem to move so well as the others. It was thought that perhaps one of the many stone falls that had been seen had injured him. Again cloud and shreds of mist veiled the mountain and hid the 3,600-metre bivouac site of the two parties from view. Anxious hours passed; everyone hoped for the best. Another night came and went and by morning the weather had again taken a turn for the worse; there was nothing to be seen. Then suddenly for a brief moment the mists parted and the face was clear. There was a mad scramble for the telescopes. The men were seen on the Second Icefield above the Rote Fluh. They were therefore retreating. It was easy now to see that one was injured, for two of them were continually helping him. The descent with the injured man was a very time-consuming business. At 8.30 pm they reached the bivouac site that Sedlmayr and Mehringer had used for their second night.
On the morning of the 21 July it was pouring with rain and above there was fresh snow on the face. It would be hard to describe what it is like to climb in such conditions after a frigid bivouac. Their rope must have been as stiff as a wire hawser (we were still using hemp rope at that time) and the rocks encased in a sheath of ice. Again clouds rolled in forming thick curtains; stone falls tumbled down and over the rock overhangs torrents of water and snow avalanches poured in continuous destruction. The traverse to them must have seemed impossible and so they resolved to abseil down the overhangs on the face below. They deliberated a long time over this abseil because the vertical and overhanging section below required several pegs and they only had a few. As the first one descended, a railway worker came out of the gallery window and called up the face to see if everything was all right. They called back, “All’s well.” It may have been the encouragement of finding themselves once more within shouting distance of other people. The linesman marked their position using a shovel as a pointer and went back to his work.
When he returned two hours later, he could hear cries of help from the face. He ran to the Eigerfenster station and telephoned the Jungfrau railway office for immediate assistance. There were three Wengen guides at the Eigergletscher station, sheltering from the storm. They were Christian Rubi, his brother Adolf, and Hans Schlunegger. A special train was ordered to take them to the gallery window, as the guides assembled their rescue gear – despite the ruling which had gone out that no life was to be put in jeopardy on the Eigerwand.
As the three climbed out of the gallery window, they were immediately assaulted by the violent storm raging on the face. It took all their strength to make a traverse of around 200 metres, running the gauntlet of continual stone bombardment and avalanches, until they were within shouting distance of the climber. His calls for help were getting increasingly more urgent. They heard, “Throw down a rope from above, no more pegs . . .” It was the cry of only one man. The guides shouted to him that it was impossible to get above him that day, he would have to wait until tomorrow. In agitation he shouted back “No, no, no!” It was terrible to hear; then he shouted something else about “Dead”, but his words were carried away by the storm. The storm was so strong by then that the guides only just had time to withdraw to the gallery window before complete darkness set in. Between the crash of avalanches the man outside could be heard yelling for help like a wild animal. The icy face hurled back the inhuman, demented cries. It pierced everyone to the quick. Could he withstand the night?
Next day as soon as it began to get light the Swiss guides went once more through the gal
lery window and out on to the hostile face. The cries for help still came down from the wall. What must he have endured during this long night – yet he still lived! He grew quiet when he heard that they would now attempt to rescue him. They reached to within forty-five metres of the difficult section where Toni Kurz was hanging beneath an overhang in a single rope sling.
“Are the others still alive?” one of the guides shouted.
“No, they died yesterday. I am quite alone. One is frozen above me, one fell yesterday and the other hangs below me on the rope, he too is frozen – dead.”
“Can you free yourself from the corpses? Try it and save as much rope as possible.” Kurz climbed down twelve metres to his dead friend and with his ice axe cut the rope. Then again he climbed up to the other body and there, too, cut through the rope. The section of rope thus gained was frozen solid, but with incredible perseverance he began to separate it, untwisting the strands, with only one hand. (The guides had noticed that he only used one hand when he was abseiling, the other was frozen.) Only an experienced climber can appreciate what an achievement that was. When he had unravelled the frozen strands, he joined them so that he had a piece fifty metres long. He weighted it with a stone and lowered it to the guides. Hours had passed. One can but marvel at his will to live, his stamina! This man Kurz would have climbed the North Wall if the weather hadn’t put a stop to it. Now the guides fastened a forty-metre rope, pistons, karabiners and hammer to the line and watched as it was raised by Kurz. (A second rope should have been sent up to the trapped climber.) Kurz hammered in the pegs and then the guides waited to see if he would pull the rope in any further. For a while he did; powder avalanches were meanwhile falling all around, but at last the rope stopped and Toni Kurz appeared over the overhang. He had therefore secured the rope above and was abseiling on it single. Slowly he came closer but the guides noticed the nearer he came, the more his strength ebbed. He was using a sit-sling for abseiling and the rope ran through a karabiner. There was no other method he could employ using only one hand. By holding the rope taut from below the guides gave him some assistance. But now he was coming to the knot where the ropes were joined. What would he do now? It would be impossible for him to get the bulky knot through the karabiner which was four metres above the guides. He realised this. Up till then his energy and his tenacious hold on life had been remarkable, now defeat threatened. Encouraging words were no longer of any help. The guides could see that suddenly it was all over. He tipped forward and didn’t move any more. His face was red and frozen, his hands swollen and from his crampons hung long icicles. When it had appeared that rescue was almost achieved, his flame of life had been extinguished. Numbed and dazed, the guides took their difficult route back, immersed in the memory of the skill and courage of the young climber who still hung from the rope.