Dan (McManus) and I had talked of climbing the North Face of the Eiger at the start of my third and his second year at Edinburgh uni. We knew someone who had done it the year before and knew that technically we were good enough climbers. We spent much of each lunch time checking the webcam that looks across the face. We must have spent hours studying the condition of the route and noting the weather. Eventually it all came to a head: the face looked good; the weather forecast looked good; and the EasyJet flights looked affordable. We booked our seats. We only had six days in which we could climb. We couldn't get away with missing too many lectures.
We arrived in Grindelwald at 8pm on Thursday the 26th October. The restaurants all looked expensive and nothing else was open so we skipped dinner and found a campsite. In the morning we woke up into the shadow of the North Face itself. It was huge. My eyes bulged; it was hard not to look at it.
After some breakfast, comfort food, we checked the weather. It looked good. We bought food for the face: tinned fish, pasta, cereal bars, dried fruit and nuts, chocolate. It was time to go up.
We plodded back to the campsite. In the light of day it looked closed for the season. After finding our tent collapsed and soaking wet from the dew, our suspicions were confirmed. The place had become a caravan park for the winter and our tent had been moved to make room. On the plus side we got a free night's accommodation. On the minus side everything was wet.
Undeterred (we both study physics and don't believe in bad omens!) we took the train up to Kleine Scheidegg and dried everything out. We lazed around enjoying the sunshine, nibbling some bread and cheese. The masses of tourists did not generally venture beyond the platform-side gift shop and restaurant so we were left in peace.
Our gear dried quickly. We packed our bags for the climb and placed everything else in storage at the station. We plodded, slowly, uphill towards the higher Eigergletscher station. The station sits below the West Ridge of the mountain just a mile away, but the combination of steep slopes and a full climbing 'sack meant it felt a lot further. We swapped our trainers for mountain boots and hid the shoes under a trough. We knew we would be returning this way on our descent.
We took a path that traverses gently downward under the North Face, finding a suitable place to sleep in a little dip. We slipped into our sleeping bags and ate dinner: pasta, salami and some veg - our last fresh food for a while. We slept a bit.
At 4.30am Dan's alarm went off. It was the worst alarm noise I've ever heard, like a cockerel being strangled. It worked; it made me want to get up to stamp on the damn thing.
We munched our dried fruit and nuts with some leftover yoghurt. At 5am we decided it was far too early and went back to sleep. Five-thirty: We packed our bags and started up. We meandered upward along a path we'd cairned the previous night. After half an hour we were almost at the bottom of the face. It was still completely dark. We hadn't planned on being too early! We stretched out in the shelter of a boulder, trying to avoid sliding down on the scree. After dozing for an hour the first slithers of sunlight made an appearance. We were off again.
At the Entry Chimney we glanced at the plaques wondering if the people they are dedicated to would really have appreciated seeing them on their attempt?! We scrambled and climbed roped up but not bothering to place gear after the initial chimney for a few hundred metres (vertically). Nothing was particularly tricky on the rocky slope, just the occasional short steep step. The day was sunny, though never on the face. On the horizon there were a few clouds but they didn't look threatening. After a short scramble over slushy rock we reached the Stollenloch, a door into the mountain that leads to the railway inside. Only the Swiss! We put our crampons on. The face became steeper and properly mixed and we moved together up a fixed line and then made diagonal traverses up towards the Difficult Crack. I led up this with some interest and more than a little thankful for the in situ gear (though we hadn't yet started pulling on it). We moved together and pitched a few more steps up to the Hinterstoisser Traverse. At this point a big grin came across my face as I recalled the stories of this famous (infamous?!) pitch, it was like touching history. We had it easy: we simply clipped into the two fixed ropes and pulled ourselves across. The snowy ice covering the slabs was particularly poor and I would not have fancied the leading it.
The icefields, more realistically called snowfields, were not in particulary great condition. They felt pretty insecure but fortunately Dan seemed to enjoy them as he pulled the rope up the first one. He boldly led the wall left of the Ice Hose (which wasn't quite complete) trying to avoid pulling on the shredded fixed line. It was down to two strands in places! I led through up the steep lower part of the second insecure 'snowfield' up to a belay where the angle eased. We moved together with no gear between us (a regular theme) to the top of the snowfield. From then on we swung moving together leads stopping to place a piece of gear or clip a peg maybe once every thirty metres. Dan led round a particularly insecure section of snow and belayed within sight of our target.
We had planned to sleep quite high up on the face, about halfway (800m vertically). This meant we had to move quickly and we never had that much time to take in our surroundings. After having been on the move for so long we were properly tired. We chewed a few energy tablets with some snow and perked up a bit. Our bivi for the night was above a steep section a fair bit further left. I gingerly led across up to the base of what looked like some reasonably quality 85 degree ice. I made a diagonal up this to an Abalakov (of 2mm cord!) at about ten metres above the snowfield proper. I continued up, Dan was now moving also, and I was still twenty metres shy of the top of the steepness. The ice became quite snowy and I had to make traverses to find ice that would hold, trying as much as possible to keep my weight on my feet. By now the Abalakov was going to do little to help me and I was getting pretty pumped. I threaded a sling through my axe (with quite a lot of difficulty) and clipped into it with some trepidation. Needless to say I got up and found a belay just before Dan was forced to start up the steep ice. One more fantastically exposed but easy diagonal traverse by Dan led to our ledge. 6.30pm and finally we could relax a bit!
The ledge, our bivouac spot, was Death Bivouac. It's about five metres long and maybe one metre wide. It was a good spot, despite its name, though we soon discovered it tilted to one side. We attached our bivi bags to the bolts in the overhanging rock wall that formed the side of the bivi. We took off our harnesses and over trousers and crawled into our sleeping bags and bivi bags and ate the rest of the day's cereal bars. We followed this with our pasta and herring mix, then a chocolate bar. I txted my mother mentioning how good the views were in Switzerland; since I had given her the impression I was off on a camping trip I thought it unwise to mention that I was half way up the Eiger. Dan txted his girlfriend for a weather update. Then after much shuffling we found positions where we could sleep without slipping around too much. We drifted off.
Next morning dawned it was soon to become sunny as it was to remain throughout the day. After I extricated my left-hand side from underneath Dan we munched our dried fruit and nuts admiring the view. Off we went, moving together across a snow slope and up a long snow covered rock ramp (enjoyable Scottish IV) to the hard part of our climb. I lead the first pitch, a steep corner with only a few reasonable edges to provide a rest. The few positive edges were tiny and really strained my calf muscles.
Eventually I got out of the steepness only to be met with the steepest powder snow slope I've ever seen - truly Peruvian. After struggling to move up at all I hit upon the idea of placing the shaft of my axe into the slope horizontally. It gave me enough purchase to move my feet but it was insecure and my last runner was a nut 1 at the top of the steep rock corner. A few more similar placements and many deep breathes I hooked a peg a yarded up to the belay. The next pitch was Dan's: a very thinly iced bulge of rock and a narrow ramp above. It was grim enough to second so it was a good lead.
Both these pitches took a great deal of time as they were hard, certainly Scottish VI, possibly harder. With these dispatched we scurried up the snow slope above to the Brittle Ledges. These were path which gave us a bit of a boost. Dan led the Overhanging Crack: a short but steep (though a little misnamed except for the final pull) rock section that led to The Traverse of The Gods.
This is a 250m traverse high up on the mountain on an easy angled slope but above a very big drop, spectacular! There was the odd peg to clip every twenty metres or so but not much else. We moved quickly and I belayed of a good ice screw and an in situ Abalakov on the White Spider. Dan romped up this and we moved together to the base of a pleasant long gully leading to the Quartz Crack. Dan climbed the initial section (Scottish IV) and I took us up to a belay just below the Quartz Crack.
My route description told us that the Quartz Crack was the final difficulty of the day with our bivi site situated just a short traverse above. Unfortunately we were again pretty tired by this point and the Quartz Crack looked pretty steep and featureless. Dan displayed the finest climbing skill I've ever seen: he found a belay about five metres up just before the Crack got technical! "You can lead this bit Tony," he said. In his defence he looked pretty tired and had probably been in the lead more than I that day. The crack/corner overhung but the wall forming its left side was a slab with a few edges. My rucksack made reaching into the crack quite awkward. Fortunately there was quite a lot of in situ gear which I unashamedly admit I hooked my way up while smearing my crampons on the edges on the left wall. At the top of the crack there is a capping bulge which forced me to give up hooking gear and start climbing properly again. A few tricky and tenuous moves later it was over and I got a solid belay up and left. Dan joined me and I took a few pictures while he recuperated before his lead.
Unfortunately, we then proceeded to miss our bivi. Climbing over it we had dismissed it with, "Can't be this. It's tiny!" We then traversed away from it and I then continued up the first pitch of the Exit Cracks. The heat of the day had caused the ice to melt a little and it was as secure as could be. In search of our bivi I climbed up the first pitch of the Exit Cracks. I passed a little beyond the first belay (a couple of pegs) and since I had seen nowhere plausible to spend the night I started down climbing. Just as I was coming down to the pegs I had passed my axe ripped. I was on my back, sliding speedily head first down the gully. I was looking at the pegs the ropes were clipped into, now above me and rapidly increasing in distance, when the rope started to go tight. "Oh, that's nice. They're still there." Was what I thought; by then I had stopped screaming. The pegs continued to stay in place and I stopped moving downward. After checking myself over and discovering that all I had sustained was a sore coccyx, I down climbed to Dan.
Realising we must have passed over our bivi, we traversed back along and proceeded to dig out a one metre square which was at least flat. "Suppose this must be it," we mused. One at a time we got into our sleeping and bivi bags. We sat upright with our backs against the wall and our legs stretched, feet sticking out over the edge. To my left was Dan and to my right was fresh air. The sunset was particularly stunning that night and our view was unparalleled. When Dan passed me the pan to fill with snow (to melt for water), I had to scrape away at the snow on my right forming the edge. After narrowing the ledge somewhat, I got a bit nervous. When Dan passed me the pan again I politely told him to get lost (or something similar). We ate dinner by headtorch and tried, unsuccessfully, to sleep.
Around 10pm the weather became quite poor. Though we were sheltered from the wind, spindrift blown off above would fall on us and it began snowing and sleeting. Worse, the cloud enveloped us and the moisture in the air made everything damp. By 7am we were a bit unimpressed by the conditions: visibility was poor and it kept snowing. We waited till eight when there was lull in the snow showers and we kitted up as quickly as possible. Our boots had frozen overnight and we had to thaw them a little before tightening them. Laces tied, we started climbing. We moved back across to the Exit Cracks, these made up the last two rope lengths of technical climbing. Slightly wary after the previous evening's events I sent Dan up first. Overnight the first pitch had frozen properly and was brilliant snow-ice. It was enjoyable to climb even in the very Scottish weather. Thump! One ice axe in. Thump! The other. Sheltered inside my hood I was really quite enjoying the climbing not thinking of the seriousness of our position.
The next pitch, my lead, consisted of unconsolidated snow on rounded rock. It was an easier angle but the snow was not at all well bonded and in the whole 60 metre pitch (on 50m ropes) I found one peg low down. It passed and the belay was good.
By now we were close to the top with the last of the difficulties behind us. We knew we were going to make it. Yet another snow slope and we were on the summit ridge and, according to my photocopied route description, only 200m from the summit itself. Unfortunately, being at almost 4000m with poor visibility and everything being white and windy, those 200m passed fairly slowly!
Finally, everything sloped downward around us. We were on the summit. Two and half days after starting up the North Face we were on top of The Eiger. We had no view and only paused briefly for an artless picture. In it, we're sat, trying to shelter from the wind with our jackets covered in ice, with white all around us. The only hint of our location is our wearied faces.
In the poor visibility we briefly started down the wrong ridge before I took a compass bearing and corrected our mistake. After a few abseils and a lot of running backward down snow slopes, we still remained in a sea of white. A bit further down still the snow on the ground gave way to loose rock and the snow showers gave way to constant drizzle. Eventually a pause in the drizzle gave us a glimpse of a recognisable landmark. We spied the Rotstock, a rocky pillar above the Eigergletscher station, and headed towards it. After much scrambling on steep ground we spotted the descent route on the other side of a gorge. After some hmm-ing and hah-ing we found somewhere to make a diagonal abseil across the gorge. A short scramble up the opposite side and we were back on track. The weather was taking its toll and we were beginning to tire of being on the mountain. It wasn't much fun now.
We had one more epic when Dan decided to jump over the bergschrund onto a dry glacier with no crampons on - fortunately we had been unroped for some time by then. After he came to a halt 100m down aid glacier (not too much damage done) I scouted around for another route. Unfortunately there wasn't one so I opted for the straddle method. I jumped onto the glacier letting one leg fall into the 'schrund to stop me sliding down. Somehow it seemed like a good idea at the time. Only then realising it might be useful to put some crampons while walking down a dry glacier I made it down to Dan sans 100m slide.
Finally we made it to the Rotstock from then on a well marked path took us wearily round to the Eigergletscher station. We picked up our trainers and trudged down. We were exhausted but still too cheap to buy a ticket from Eigergletscher to Kleine Scheidegg! We collected our luggage from storage and caught the last train down to Grindelwald.
By now we were starting to think/obsess about somewhere to ditch our kit and change our clothes. We got off at Grund, a small village a short distance below Grindelwald. We had planned to stay at a bunkhouse next to the station there. Arriving at the front door we found the place locked up - obviously closed. Words cannot describe our feelings.
The village of Grindelwald/Grund proceeded to receive a lot of unrepeatable verbal abuse. After much swearing and some blasphemy, a solution came to mind. I had seen a sign for another bunkhouse in Grindelwald itself. We had no idea whether or not this other bunkhouse would be closed too. Making matters worse Grindelwald was twenty minutes uphill and the last train from Grund was long gone. After 3 days of climbing, almost forty hours without sleep and carrying about 30kg of wet gear each, the walk was a drag.
The day ended as it started. Light drizzle rolled off our already saturated clothes. The omens (we had started to believe) were not good. Fortunately our luck turned. The bunkhouse was open. And, perhaps in order not to deter other customers, we were given a huge dorm to ourselves.
A quick shower and a change of clothes, and we went out to the cheapest restaurant we could find. I have never tasted a better Tomato and Basil soup nor a better rare Steak with Green Pepper sauce served with Rösti. The beer wasn't bad either.
After a very pleasant and comfortable night's sleep, we were ready for the next challenge: breakfast. We took self-service of the buffet to a new level that many would think impossible. We also thoroughly tested the machine that provided free Cappuccinos, Coffees, Hot Chocolates and hot milks. It produced very satisfying results. We had heard it was important to re-hydrate properly.
Breakfast dealt with, it was time to sit around. The previous three days were strangely absent from our memories. We just felt tired. Unfortunately since Dan had bad blisters it was left to me to collect our rubbish from below the face. In an effort to save cash, I decided to get off at the station below Kleine Scheidegg and make a walk of it. I had failed to notice that there was a 600 vertical meter height gain to get from the station up to where we had slept four nights earlier. Still, it was a beautifully sunny day and it felt good (sort-of) to stretch my legs. After catching the train down - which I had to run for to avoid a one hour wait - I found Dan lying on the sofa reading a book. Lazy git!
We spent the next day, Halloween, travelling to Geneva airport. We thought we'd save on accommodation costs by sleeping in the airport the last night. Never a good idea. Despite having slept (read: "spent the night") in Geneva airport twice before, I had blanked out how dismal it had been. We flew home the next morning, not soon enough. The day after, Thursday, we were back at uni; 9am physics lectures are a joy!
Dan McManus and Tony Stone are supported by The Student Loans Company.
(Oct-06)