Climbing the Eiger, 2005

Eiger – Round One.
We started the approach by taking the cog train from Grund to Apiglen. After a two hour quad-burning, oxygen-sucking approach from the train station through cow pastures we started climbing at 8:30 a.m

Eiger translates to ogre in English…an appropriate name. After reading a London Telegraph article warning of the serious rock fall on the Eiger due to global warming we decided to attempt the Northeast Pillar due to it being on a buttress and reportedly relatively safe from non-self-induced rock fall. The Eiger has been described as a giant pile of choss. It is. Cannon cliff is no comparison for loose rock. It is composed of crumbly limestone that breaks into razor sharp shards. I pulled down so many rocks that I quit yelling “rock” unless I thought it was in Peter’s direction. Everywhere we grabbed or put our feet was suspect. I sent one block whizzing by Peter’s head that was the size of a beach ball.

After 12 hours of climbing we were 13 pitches up. Most of the climbing was not technically difficult but it required complete concentration as it was all loose with almost no protection. All day long a Swiss Air-Rescue helicopter periodically flew by; an ominous sign. I had just finished leading a dripping wet pitch with worthless protection on snot-slick rock complicated by mountain boots and a 20-lb pack when we decided we had to bivy. Everywhere there was water. Waterfalls cascaded down the route from the melting snow fields above. We couldn’t find a flat, or even a semi-flat, ledge to bivy on and nothing dry. The only thing we did find was a pair of rusty circa 1960s? strap-on crampons. From the first ascent party? It was now 9:00 p.m. and we decided to rappel down to the last place where we remembered a possible bivy. Three pitches down we found a ledge that was a small promontory on a flat rock. It was exposed to rock fall and lightning but the sky was clear, the rock should be freezing up eliminating rock fall, and at that point we didn’t really care. We had to rest. Peter pounded in a couple of pitons we anchored everything and crawled into our bivy bags. The view of the stars and the lights of Grindelwald 7,000 feet below were beautiful and we could hear the constant clanging of the cow bells from the cow pastures far below but the ambiance was anything but idyllic. Sleep was impossible. We lay there shivering in freezing temperatures, the rock sucking the warmth out of us, the wind fluttering our bivy bags with every gust. Sound like fun yet?