Eiger Westflank

“Bonjour!”

The voice echoed from my side. I turned slowly to see a lightly equipped female traversing with great speed towards me.

“Hello” I replied

She skidded to a halt inquiring.. “Where are you climbing today?”

I explained my plans as best as possible in the hope of some positive beta in return.

She looked at me and dispensed of any small talk “The rock is too wet, the snow is too soft. It’s too dangerous at the moment,maybe better to try tomorrow!”

I made my excuses and thanked her for the opinion …

She smiled with perceived admiration.

 ”Ok good climbing. Oh!.. And be careful!” 

She skipped off down the moraine towards the station with great skill, moving fast and light like a seasoned fell runner. I wasn’t going to let the seed of doubt nurture within me. I turned back upwards and pushed for the gully.

Donning crampons I pulled an axe from my sack, the snow was surprisingly firm considering the informal warnings and the morning sun was radiating full force from above the Monch. There were sights and sounds of excessive melt water all around.

Not just 2 days earlier there had been a good dump of light snow along the range and now it was beginning to give way yet again to the summer sun.

I reached the corner of Barrington’s Gully and found the snow slope almost as high as the buttress. The huge ice form arched at the edges like a shoulder, making transition to the rock face more than just a leap of faith. I looked further upwards and it appeared the slope cambered around the corner and almost touched the rock. It looked an ideal platform to mount the face.

I walked inside the gully along the buttress examining the huge slope whose shoulders now towered above me. A large van sized crevasse came into view as I rounded the corner. It’s position was right underneath the area I wanted to use to gain access to the face. I peered into the crevasse and shuddered to see how hollow the snow slope had become. Ice & melt water gushed a full torrent directly through the guts of the slope and dropped to a depth of approximately 30ft and then into unknown chasm beyond? Suddenly the platform didn’t look quite so appealing, if anything suicidal. I gazed in awe for some time at this phenomenon. After a while of reflection I turned to seek another access!

I tracked back along the dry alleyway that divided the rock face from the snow gully, eventually coming to a sharp corner where a strategic length of red static rope lay anchored from the top. The rope seemed new and well placed as I pulled, hung and tested its strength and durability. The 30ft climb was on  inverted rock and would require some form of Jumar or Prussic to gain the top. Without the aid of Jumars and a dislike of using Prussics I decided I would hand climb the short distance freehand?

I threw off my sack and crampons and clipped them in to the end of the excess rope in the hope of hauling the load upwards later. I took an ice axe and mounted the snow shoulder to just below the peak. Without crampons I felt twitchy and vulnerable. I kicked into the snow trying to get a better footing. Reaching out with the axe I hooked the rope, pulling it tight towards my chest where I snapped a carabineer to the axe and let it slide down on top of the sack. I breathed deeply, focusing on where my feet would land once I executed the Tarzan swing. I knew I would need to move quickly and forcefully before any lactic acid built up in my arms. With this in mind I launched off the slope and planted my feet sweetly on the rock, Swinging briefly to the right I managed to re-gain balance. After a moment of composure I pumped quickly for the top, my hands burned and smarted on the 10mm rope. Reaching the top and gasping for air I looked at the rope indents branded within my hands. I watched intrigued as the bloodless white dissolved back to its usual pinkish hue! With the sack haul complete and time to spare I sat peering out over the valley.      

The Lauberhorn, Monch, and Jungfrau immaculately lay abound me!......I was now on the Eiger for real!!

I followed the Cairns up to the top of the buttress without incident. Continuing to hop up and down large steps. After a while I eventually entered some level ground around 3010m. This was the promised bivvy area!

The bivvy was a creative construction of wooden planks bedded onto a flat piece of rock with a dry stonewall 1 foot high surrounding 3 sides of the base. I cleared a 5-inch blanket of snow from the boards and piled it to one corner so as to melt for cooking and drinking at any time I required a water top up.

                           

Some years earlier I had befriended an experienced alpinist.

Robert Thornton's website “ Alliance of solo alpinists “ was a trove of information and knowledge with the aim of helping solo climbers to maximise their experiences when tackling great routes in the Alps and beyond. Knowing Robert had soloed the Eiger many times, including some of the harder routes, 

I began to press him on the idea of myself doing the easier Barrington route and it’s pros and cons against the other routes on the Eiger.

One of the big issues detailed to me was the lack of ice and availability of water during a summer ascent. Apart from hauling litres of water in your pack it was more efficient to carry a little water and extra fuel to melt what water you required. This was always pending on conditions and if there was enough ice available or close to the bivvy area…. My luck was in!

It was still early in the day and things were going well. After making a quick brew, I decided to scout for a little hidey hole to store my excess gear the following morning when I push for the summit!

The plan was to leave as much equipment near to the bivvy area as possible, making travel to the summit as light as possible and retrieve the bag on the way down. With an ideal alcove found not 30 yards from my new base I decided to probe a little further to see what the first part of my morning ascent would feel like. The route looked simplistic up to the Kanzeli (Mushroom shaped rock favourable with base jumpers). After doing reconnaissance I was feeling confident of starting in the dark well before the sun rose.

For now, the sun was still hung high in the sky and the Westflank was alive with the noise of running water and cracking ice. I sat comfortable for some time enjoying the evening sunshine and exquisite vistas. I stuck my mug under a stream of water running down the rocks next to 2 newly placed bolts. I remember thinking how unfortunate other climbers had been years previous with such dry seasons. The mug filled instantly and I smiled at the blessing of water. 

By late afternoon the sun was floundering and I lay down on my matt to eat, I watched with intrigue as two Swiss Hornet jets flew back and forth and then disappear as quickly as they had arrived. The clouds were thickening and at times I lost all vision of the high points and their approach. My concerns were little as the forecast for tomorrow was good! After a quick brew I clipped my self in and drifted off into a content sleep!

At some unknown period in the night I broke from my slumber. Lying on my back I looked up mesmerised by the clear night sky, Satellites moved across the canvas skyline, meteors flashed through the canopy and the stars gave a picture like those you see only in movies. At one point I heard what seemed like voices, it wasn’t the first time I’d experienced this unusual phenomena. I rolled my head back expecting to see approaching head torches, but I knew the voices weren’t there and I shut my eyes in the hope of drifting back to sleep.

Crunch!..... The Eiger vibrated as a huge serac not to far away gave way to gravity.

I sat up quickly peering into the precipice before me. My bivvy bag crackled as I rose. It was frozen solid and my whole bivvy area was in deep freeze. My feet had been cool for some time, but now they were feeling uncomfortably cold. I wrestled out of my sleeping bag and put each foot into a spare dry bag, it wasn’t long before my feet sweated up and the warmth returned. The breeze had increased and compounded the feeling of coldness. I pulled my neck scarf up around my ears and zipped my quilted jacket up around my chin. I instantly felt warmer and tried to force another sleep….but never really succeeded!

I shook my bottle and sucked away listening to the air whistling through the top lid.. Pulling the drinks holder and sling around to the front of my body I struggled to push the bottle into its neoprene holder. I loosened the Velcro strap which secured the bottle whilst in transit and at that very moment my world seem to fall away from me!

The snow stance gave way and I dropped. Sliding like a guillotine I lurched for my axes, which also followed me in the downward motion. Suddenly and mercifully I shuddered to a stop. My crampons bit onto something hard and the daisy chain yanked hard against the piton. The slide must have been only 3ft at most, but enough to raise my terror alert and I felt my heart pounding, requiring me to gasp for air.

Resting at point 3668m I pondering my situation briefly. I felt thirsty, but the target of climbing the next leg took prime concern. The unknown steepness of the ascent, black rock, laced with ice and snow now took on a more menacing direction. My heightened mental awareness was now in overdrive as I teetered whilst picking away slowly with my axes along the lip of the steep West Ridge. Looking 1 mile straight down the North face into the boiling clouds my stomach danced. The exposure was extreme and the huge sense of mass that the Eiger exuded weighed heavily on my consciousness. 

Eventually after traversing slightly away from the ridge the uneasy gnawing feeling of the North face subsided. Still on equally steep ground I hunted around with axes for good placements. The snow was shallow, soft and felt gritty underneath. Placing protection was not an option. I plodded with heavy legs towards the false summit. A cluster of protruding large rocks choked with ice and snow, each section linked with vertical shallow smooth gullies.

My head thumped again as I looked up towards the false summit

I plucked a golf ball size piece of snow and rubbed it around my lips. I threw the remainder in my mouth and sucked the sorbet until it melted.

Doing little to quench my thirst I continued the next leg of the climb. I had reached as far as my Topo was detailed. Any climbing from now was all of my own judgment. It seemed laughable that I should be concerned when the whole day up to this point had been anything but per-se!

Arriving at the false summit (3820m) the gradient cambered towards a good belay stance. Without a partner I considered my options on the steep vertical gully which barred my way to the final summit snow slope. A chink of light glistened about 30ft up the gully and I spotted what looked like a new bolt? This would be my lifeline. Smashing my axe in just above head height, I carefully pulled and checked it’s worth. Happy with the placement I heaved myself up and kicked hard with the crampons. Continuing upwards I reached a bare section of rock. I slammed again with my axe, but the blade ricocheted with a high-pitched note. I tried again and again equally unsuccessful each time. Arms pumped and my breathing off scale I desperately stretched with the axe. Holding the very tip of the axe handle I managed to expose some softer ground. Scratching with the other axe I managed a marginal placement and pulled towards the clip. I threw my right sided axe into the bolt loop and felt a wave panic loose its grip from my body.

I cursed yet again at the severity of the climbing. It was an easy grade 3 at most but the altitude and my waning strength compounded the difficulty.

I held on to the biner and sling for a short time until my breathing was controlled and I eventually felt good to go again.

Looking down I noticed that the point at 3668m was now coming under attack with thick fast moving clouds. One minute it was there and then suddenly it vanished from sight!

Picking through the perilous rock section was slow and committing. Aware of the lapse of time and deteriorating weather I decided against all common sense and continued to climb. Thirsty and against the clock I ditched the idea of any self-belaying. Heaving my way up the rock face I caught a glimpse of the summit and my spirits and energy lifted.

The bright blue sky created a stunning backdrop for the summit as I exited the final rock section. Now on the final slopes and buoyed by my new enthusiasm I began to kick harder. Taking far fewer rests and pushing into the red I pulled myself forward.

Looking up my head pounded once more and my craving for water hit me like a train. Shovelling snow into my mouth I chewed uncomfortably and felt my throat tighten as I swallowed. As the tightness and pain intensified I spat out the remainder. Grabbing my axes and delirious with summit fever I dragged myself towards the summit.

                                 
At first it was calming and cooling against the body. Intensely overheating I welcomed the cooling with great relief.

It was only when I broke from my trance that I noticed the clouds were enveloping around me and pushing fast towards the summit. I halted and looked down at the swirling mass of grey cloud shifting quickly upwards, collapsing ominously over into North face as it moved.

With a grimace and concern I continued. Suddenly the view ahead disappeared and every corner of my vision became blank and white. I clung on motionless pondering my situation.

Anxious to be back at the Bivvy before dark, the thought of possibly spending a night without warm weather kit or water and my raging thirst all started to prey upon my mind. At this point even in touching distance all my hopes of making the summit were dwindling quickly! Eventually after a while of stalling a hole appeared in the clouds and gave me glimpse of the summit. With the altimeter reading 3920m I dropped my head and continued upwards.

With an air of desperation I mulled for a while on the idea of down climbing all the way to the base station. The light was almost gone and I knew the route to be treacherous.

The lower rock bands weren’t as steep as they are high on up but the very nature of the rock in which its formed makes navigating the descent dangerous at best but lethal at night! The dipping outward strata covered in splintered Eiger shale was once eloquently described as “A huge tiled roof covered in a layer of ball bearings”

After traversing the near by ledge the sound of water grew more intense. The trickling noise became more of a cascading flow. I moved further and further across the face. Every time I rounded a corner I expected to see torrents of water flowing abound. The disappointment of seeing even more dry rock cannot be put into words and the whole scenario began to take on a cruel and spiteful nature!

Smiling and giggling at my dilemma I pondered the absurdity of the whole situation. Climbing down the shale-strewn wall I eventually made the ledge at the waterfall. Pushing my hands into the ice-cold water I gulped greedily from cupped hands.

Immediately as I gulped a severe slicing pain ripped deep from inside my throat., the pain moving upwards towards my tongue. It felt like barbed wired hooks being dragged from deep inside. Coughing and heaving I wretched. Between spitting blood onto the rocks between my feet I managed to sip slowly as again the pain returned but with less ferocity. After about 5 attempts I was drinking without discomfort and it was only when my hands began to freeze I pulled myself from the stream almost satisfied.

My initial intentions were to return to the bivvy to collect another water bottle. I still required water for boiling. Food & drink seemed like a good antidote to the perils of the day. It was at this point I remembered the plastic sealable bag I had stuffed into my jacket earlier that evening. I filled the bag full and popped it into my mouth and began climbing back towards the camp.

Finally after some aimless climbing through the dark, I stumbled across one of the bigger Cairns close to the bivvy site.