- SIMON GIETL -

La glace de Shiva

Grimper sur la neige et la glace crée son propre son, son propre rythme. Balancer son piolet, le sentir accrocher dans la glace. Le balancer de nouveau, respirer.

Enfoncer le premier crampon, les pointes frottent contre la roche. Enfoncer le second, respirer. Et ainsi de suite. Grimper sur la neige et la glace crée son propre mantra. Tandis que tu grimpes vers la cime, ton esprit, accompagné du rythme répétitif, s'éclaircit, se purifie. Ces effets collatéraux ont un nom : la « sérendipité » (une coïncidence heureuse, une bonne fortune inattendue). Horace Walpole a inventé ce terme après avoir lu la fable narrant l'aventure des trois princes de Serendip, qui, au cours de leurs voyages, font de constantes découvertes inattendues. Tu es donc en train d'essayer de grimper un itinéraire mixte, tout en méditant. Certaines montagnes retiennent plus l'attention que d'autres. Quiconque s'est tenu au pied du Cimon della Pala, symbole du massif de Pale di San Martino, du Punta Sorapiss, ou du Cervin le sait bien. Ce qui les rend si impressionnantes n'est pas leur hauteur, mais leur beauté saisissante. Elles se dressent, isolées et distantes, se projettent vers le ciel, sans rien à leurs alentours.

Simon Gietl and Andrea Oberacher are climbing over an impressive roof, right under the arête after which the wall turns west. They are making the first free ascent of “Das Erbe der Väter” (The Heritage of our Fathers), the route that Simon opened with Vittorio Messini. It’s bold and traditional, ground up, protected with trad gear and pegs and involves sport climbing difficulties up to UIAA 9-. This is the way Simon likes it: modern routes climbed free. Pure alpinism, similar to the ethics of our forefathers. You just have to watch him climb. Just look at the topo. Just look at how the route picks its way up through the sea of yellow rock. Respect. Simon grew up just outside Luttach, in the Aurina valley. He has always been a hard worker, first on his family’s farmstead, then as a carpenter. His first contact with climbing, fifteen or so years ago, was totally by chance. He was hitchhiking from Dobbiaco to Brunico, and a climber gave him a lift. After chatting and listening to the stories and tales shared during that drive, Simon decided to give climbing a go.

Simon Gietl and Andrea Oberacher are climbing over an impressive roof, right under the arête after which the wall turns west. They are making the first free ascent of “Das Erbe der Väter” (The Heritage of our Fathers). It’s bold and traditional, ground up, protected with trad gear and pegs and involves sport climbing difficulties up to UIAA 9-. This is the way Simon likes it: pure alpinism, similar to the ethics of our forefathers. You just have to watch him climb. Respect. Simon grew up just outside Luttach, in the Aurina valley. He has always been a hard worker, first on his family’s farmstead, then as a carpenter. His first contact with climbing, fifteen or so years ago, was totally by chance. He was hitchhiking from Dobbiaco to Brunico, and a climber gave him a lift. After chatting and listening to the stories and tales shared during that drive, Simon decided to give climbing a go.

Le mont Shivling tombe également dans cette catégorie. Son nom se réfère à son statut de symbole sacré « Shiva Linga ». « Lingam » est le mot sanscrit utilisé pour caractériser une représentation de la divinité hindoue Shiva, qui se présente souvent sous la forme d'une colonne, et se symbolise par le culte vertical des monolithes. Le Shivling est le lingam de Shiva, car vu depuis Gaumukh, dans l'extrême nord de l'état indien d'Uttarakhand, il ressemble à une pyramide pointant à la verticale. 25 septembre : Simon Gietl et Vittorio Messini atteignent Gaumukh, dans le Garhwal himalayen. Ils sont en chemin vers le Shivling. Ils planifient leur ascension par la Voie de Shiva, le superbe parcours ouvert par Thomas Huber et Ivan Wolf en 2000. Depuis des mois ils en parlent, font des recherches, étudient les topos et les photos. Tandis qu'ils grimpent vers Tapovan, le camp de base pour les alpinistes et les pèlerins en route vers la source du Gange, à 4 300 mètres au-dessus du niveau de la mer, leur conversation se poursuit. Ils se souviennent de la première expédition vers le sommet, dans les années 70, organisée par la police indienne des frontières ; ils discutent de la montée depuis la crête est, du succès de Hans Kammerlander et de Christoph Hainz par le pilier nord, et de leur descente dans des conditions météorologiques désastreuses. L'approche n'est pas chose facile. Il a beaucoup neigé et il est pratiquement impossible de grimper. Tandis qu'ils prennent de la hauteur, les doutes envahissent l'esprit de Simon et Vittorio. Il y a beaucoup trop de neige, le froid est rude et intense, plus qu'il ne devrait l'être en cette saison. La montée sera bien plus difficile que prévu. Alors qu'ils se rapprochent, les parois rocheuses imposantes s'exposent dans toute leur noblesse majestueuse et glacée. « Simon, ça risque d'être compliqué, » marmonne Vittorio en abaissant ses lunettes. « Regarde ces corniches, elles sont instables, prêtes à se défaire au moindre toucher. » « Hmm, tu as raison, » répond Simon, sans joie. « Il n'y a pas moyen de passer par là. À moins d'être fou, ou suicidaire. Attends... Passe-moi les jumelles... » Simon ne regarde pas le parcours que Vittorio et lui-même avaient prévu de grimper. Il regarde plus à gauche, où une cascade de glace énorme s'incline contre la roche sombre. « Vittorio, attends, regarde... sur la gauche... Regarde les photos, tu crois que c'est une cascade de glace ? » Vittorio tire une liasse de papiers de son sac, les feuillette, à la recherche d'informations. « Non, il n'y a rien ici. Simon, tu crois que c'est solide ? » L'expression de Simon change. Son expression morose disparaît, telle une bouffée d'air glacé. Il paraît à présent déterminé, curieux et affamé.

And he’s been climbing ever since. It didn’t take him long to decide that climbing, or rather, that specific way of climbing, was what he wanted to dedicate his life to. Or at least part of his life. He is also dedicated to Sandra, Iano and Iari, his wife and two children. This is why he inspires such admiration and respect. Simon is a man who understands the consequences of the choices he makes. He knows that his life is not only about himself. Every decision, including electing to open a route of that difficulty, from the ground up, on that rock, is tempered by a great sense of responsibility. The sun is starting to set behind Cima Ovest. Simon and Andrea are out of sight. They’ve reached the great ringband terrace and then the summit. The wind carries an exuberant shout of joy far towards the distant meadows of Misurina. A small flock of choughs flies past with complete indifference, heading towards who knows where. Das Erbe der Väter is a unique route. Without a doubt. It’s an innovative feat, opening a line of that level of difficulty using a traditional approach. It’s more than just a route, it’s a tribute to the climbers who laid the historical foundations of alpinism and a prophecy of the climbers who will envisage and create its future – on this same mountain – in years to come.

It didn’t take him long to decide that climbing was what he wanted to dedicate his life to. Or at least part of his life. He is also dedicated to Sandra, Iano and Iari, his wife and two children. He knows that his life is not only about himself. Every decision, including electing to open a route of that difficulty, from the ground up, on that rock, is tempered by a great sense of responsibility. The sun is starting to set behind Cima Ovest. Simon and Andrea are out of sight. They’ve reached the great ringband terrace and then the summit. The wind carries an exuberant shout of joy far towards the distant meadows of Misurina. Das Erbe der Väter is more than just a route, it’s a tribute to the climbers who laid the historical foundations of alpinism and a prophecy of the climbers who will envisage and create its future – on this same mountain – in years to come.

« Vittorio... Cela va être difficile, mais je pense que c'est faisable. Oui, il existe une voie. Il faudra commencer depuis la gauche, grimper en diagonale, puis traverser... Regarde ! » Vittorio prend les jumelles que lui tend Simon. Il étudie la paroi scrupuleusement, suivant les instructions de son partenaire. Mètre après mètre, il discerne le potentiel. Son attitude change également. « Imagine ça, Simon. On démarre dans l'idée de refaire un parcours, mais la neige nous en empêche. Malgré tout, au lieu de ça on a l'occasion d'ouvrir une nouvelle voie. C'est vraiment fantastique. » Simon acquiesce, se frottant les mains, tant pour les réchauffer qu'à cette idée réjouissante. Le 9 octobre, après deux jours d'ascension, allourdis par leur équipement, ils entament finalement leur tentative vers le sommet. Ils partent très tôt, il fait encore nuit. Tel un mantra, la journée se poursuit au rythme des piolets et crampons. Ils bivouaquent à 5 500 mètres pour se ressourcer. Ils reprennent leur ascension très tôt le jour suivant. La neige est compacte, la glace solide. Ils atteignent 6 000 mètres et le pilier nord emprunté par Kammerlander et Hainz. Jour trois : ils parviennent finalement au sommet, rejoignant le parcours japonais. La Glace de Shiva, la nouvelle voie de Simon et Vittorio, consiste en plus de 1 500 mètres de roche et de glace, avec des difficultés jusqu'à WI5, M6. Elle représente plus qu'une heureuse coïncidence. Elle prouve en définitive comment une certaine approche, une attitude prudente et minutieuse peuvent transformer l'insatisfaction et la frustration en de nouvelles et merveilleuses opportunités. Il est midi. Simon et Vittorio sont assis au sommet du Shivling à 6 543 mètres, heureux et essoufflés, sous un ciel si bleu qu'il paraît presque noir. Lorsqu'ils repensent à leur ascension, ils s'accordent pour dire que sérendipité est un mot compliqué, qu'il signifie tout simplement avoir un rêve, le chercher et le poursuivre. Et il convient de ne pas oublier d'étudier attentivement toutes les opportunités pouvant surgir le long du chemin.

Just before Paul starts the engine and before he takes off for this new adventure Ken appears, still a bit sleepy. The American discretely knocks on the fuselage, he strokes it. “We definitely did a good job with this bit of scrap iron from ’59, didn’t we? It looks impressive now.” Paul comes out of the cabin, he steps down, and nods. “Well, you did a great job, I just acted as your busboy. Ken, I just don’t know how to thank you enough. You are an amazing person, and a friend.” Ken minimizes, sneers then mumbles, he doesn’t like receiving compliments. “Listen” Paul urges on, “why don’t you come as well? It’s been a while since we’ve flown together.” Ken strokes the shiny blades of the Supercub’s rotors, lost in his thought. !I would love to come. Fly with you, teaching you how to fly over Alaska was awesome. I think… when you show someone the place you live in, it is like having the opportunity to see it with a fresh look. Well, I might have taught you a few bush pilot tricks, but you’ve reminded me why I am so in love with this darned ice.” Ken furrows his eyebrows and curls his lip “...and today I need to go to Anchorage for the monthly shop, and I have to go by car.” Paul and Ken laugh as accomplices. Pats on the back, farewells, and Paul back in the cabin is ready to take off. Ken walks lankily back home.

Paul pulls the window down. “Hey, Ken!” The shaggy Alaskan turns around, and stares at the Austrian. It could be the light of dawn, but he sees something more than a simple pilot, and something more than an adventurer. He sees a man who had no fear to take a new road, to follow a dream, to understand the true spirit of Alaska, beyond the rhetoric of the last frontier. He sees someone who flies to fly, someone for which air is not only what your wings, or your sail fly across. Someone for which the never ending kilometers of tundra, lakes and mountains are not a distance to merely fly across, but a space in which to express oneself. It could be the light of dawn, but Ken is almost touched by the thought. “Ken, I wanted to say…no, forget it. Thanks, you are awesome, see you in four days. Buy some beer!” Ken lifts his thumb. Paul turns on the engine, taking off with elegant precision from the narrow strip which by now he calls air field. He gains height, while the intense morning light starts to caress Seward’s Folly. Four hours later his plane is parked on the edge of a nameless valley, somewhere east of Peter’s Dome. Paul is running fast; behind him the paraglider inflates, and his feet lose contact with the ground beneath. Around him a never ending expanse of new and incredible places, there is no sign of a person, a house, or a trail. “Flying to fly” he giggles happily, fixing himself in the saddle. “Yes, this is exactly what dreams coming true taste like.”

- SIMON GIETL -

SHIVA'S ICE

Climbing up snow and ice has its own sound, its own rhythm. You swing your tool, feeling the pick bite into the ice, swing again, and breathe.

Climbing up snow and ice has its own sound, its own rhythm. You swing your tool, feeling the pick bite into the ice, swing again, and breathe. Kick in your first crampon, points scrape against rock, kick in your second crampon, breathe. And repeat. Climbing up snow and ice has a mantra all of its own. You climb a mountain, while your mind, accompanied by the repeating rhythm, clears and cleanses itself. These kinds of collateral effects have a name: “serendipity” (a fortunate or happy unplanned coincidence). Horace Walpole invented it after reading a fable, the story of The Three Princes of Serendip, who during their travels keep discovering things they weren’t even looking for. So, you’re trying to climb a mixed route and you’re meditating. Some mountains attract more attention than others. Anyone who has stood below Cimon della Pala, the symbol of Pale di San Martino, Punta Sorapiss, or the Matterhorn will know this. What makes them so impressive is not their height, but their striking appearance. They stand alone, isolated and remote, projected into the sky, with nothing surrounding them.

Shivling also falls into this category. Its name refers to its status as a sacred symbol “Shiva Linga”. “Lingam” is the Sanskrit word for a representation of the Hindu deity, Shiva, which is often a column-like form and symbolized in the cult of vertical monoliths. Shivling is the lingam of Shiva because when seen from Gaumukh, in the extreme northern part of the Indian state of Uttarakhand, it looks like a pyramid pointing vertically upwards. 25 September: Simon Gietl and Vittorio Messini reach Gaumukh, in the Garhwal Himalayas. They are heading for Shivling. They plan to climb Shiva’s Line, the magnificent route opened by Thomas Huber and Ivan Wolf in 2000. They have been talking about it for months, reading up on it, studying the topos and photos. As they head up towards Tapovan, base camp for alpinists and for pilgrims heading towards the source of the Ganges, at 4,300 metres above sea level, they continue to talk about it. They remember the first expedition to reach the summit, in the 1970s, organized by the Indian border police; they discuss the ascent from the east ridge, the achievement of Hans Kammerlander and Christoph Hainz with their North Pillar and the descent in terrible weather conditions. The approach is not straightforward. It has snowed a lot and it’s almost impossible to ascend. As they gain height, Simon and Vittorio start to have doubts. There’s far too much snow, and the cold is sharp and intense, more than what it should be for the season. The ascent will be a lot harder than expected. As they get closer, the imposing rock walls show themselves in all their icy, majestic grandeur. “Simon, I think we’re in trouble,” Vittorio mumbles, lowering the binoculars. “Look at those cornices, it’s all unstable, ready to come down as soon as you touch it.” “Hmm, I think you’re right,” Simon answers unhappily. “There is no way through there, unless we’re totally out of our minds, or wannabe suicide victims. But…pass the binoculars over...” Simon is not looking at the line that he and Vittorio had planned to climb. Instead, he looks further to the left, where an enormous icefall slants up the dark rock. “Vittorio, wait, look…to the left…check the photos, do you think there’s an icefall?” Vittorio pulls out some sheets of paper, he leafs through them, searching. “No, there is nothing here. Simon, do you think it’s solid?” Simon’s expression changes. His gloomy face disappears like a cloud of icy breath. Now he looks determined, curious and hungry.

“Vittorio… It will be hard work, but I think it’s climbable. Yes, there’s a way through. We’ll set off from the left, climb diagonally, then traverse… Look!” Vittorio grabs the binoculars from Simon’s hands. He studies the face carefully, following his partner’s directions. Metre by metre, he can see the potential. His attitude changes too. “Just think Simon. We set off to repeat a route, which we can’t do because of the snow. However, instead we get to open a new one. I think this is a great deal”. Simon, nods, rubbing his hands from the cold and in anticipation. On 9 October, after two days of hauling up gear, the pair start their summit bid. They leave very early, while it’s still dark. They continue their mantra with tools and crampons throughout the day. Biviing at 5,500 metres, they recover some energy. Next day, they set off again, another very early start, moving up. The snow is compact, the ice is solid. They make it to six thousand metres, and the north pillar climbed by Kammerlander and Hainz. Day three: finally, they reach the summit, joining the Japanese route. Shiva’s Ice, Simon and Vittorio’s new route, is more than 1,500 metres of rock and ice with difficulties up to W15, M6. It represents more than good fortune. Ultimately, it shows how a certain approach, and a careful and open-minded attitude can transform dissatisfaction and frustration into new and wonderful opportunities. It’s midday. Simon and Vittorio sit on Shivling’s 6,543-metre summit, happy and gasping for air under a sky so blue it almost seems black. When they think of their climb, they agree that serendipity is a complicated word, in the end though it just means: have a dream, look for it and follow it. But don’t forget to carefully consider any opportunities that might crop up along the way.