Optimales Eis
January 16, 1999

Originally, Scott Kinkele and I were supposed to go ice climbing to Austria, but as it is often the case, life conspired to prevent this. As an alternative, we settled on attending the Adirondacks Ice Festival, but at the last minute, Monika begged me to accompany her to Austria. With only a week left, I initiated the frantic preparations for my unanticipated vacation; replacement passport (lost on the way back from The Netherlands), car rental, last-minute calls and writing, packing, etc. Many things didn't get done, but I did managed to call Wayne Trzyna to ask him for Jens Maier's phone number in Munich. A short call to Jens and voila, I had plans for alpine ice climbing.

Jens explained that the location and timing of our ice adventure was at the will of the Föhn (a warm wind that, at times, blows down the Alps). Conditions had been excellent in November and December, but in the last few days the Föhn had managed to melt most ice in the Austrian Alps. The poor conditions didn't bother me given that there was plenty of snow on the ski slopes of Pinzgau. Jens promised to give me a call prior to his next ice-climbing trip, and I set out to learn to ski.

In the words of my brother-in-law, Hermann, I proved to be a "virtuoso disciple." By the end of my first day in the slopes, I was carving my way at high speed through the infant slalom coarse beating most of the 3-4 year olds in attendance. Hermann deemed that I was ready for the real thing, and the next day I was taken to my first "lift." The initial ride was intimidating but I managed my way down without any falls. Hermann ordered a change of venue to a step 15-m bunny slope. By what can only be described as a miracle, I made it down in one piece and so I was declared alumni of the "Hermann Ski Schule." In spite of this, the next time around, Sabrina (my 4-year-old niece) got too close, and as I tried to break, I felt busting my knee in the process. The Olympics and the Weltcup contracts were put on hold - my prodigious ski career was over.

At the belay, I marveled at the unquestionable trust placed on a two-screw belay in soft ice. Jens explained that since he sustained a 15-m fall, he has renewed trust in ice screws. Christian was a natural and without delay he was chain-smoking by my side once again. Jens initiated the second pitch via a steep line but the climbing proved harder that anticipated and I suggested that he moved left into easier terrain. At the second belay, Jens and I rapidly concluded that it was getting too late, and the pillar looked thinner than we would have liked. He climbed into a cave behind the pillar where we pounded a snag into a beautiful transparent tongue of ice about 1-m wide by 1.5-m deep. Emerging from the cave he proclaimed - "optimal". Everybody sensed the strenuous nature of the exercise to follow and words of encouragement in English, German, and Spanish were offered to the one in need. At last, he made it through the final bulge and a general sense of relief was felt among all present.

Following Jens up the column was much easier that I had anticipated thanks to holes in the ice that made for excellent hooking. On top, even Jens marveled at the trust placed on two-ice-tools-buried-in-frozen-grass belay. Jens remarked - "this belay reminds me of Ben Nevis... but not to worry, das ist optimal." While Christian climbed, I sat in a snow ridge and delighted in the glorious alpine glow casted on the gorge by the dying sun. It was a strange feeling - I am the type of climber that typically spends 30 seconds in the summit of a mountain, yet there I was witnessing the retreating sun, with a busted knee, and over 400-m of down-climb down a frozen gully still waiting for me.

Upon Christian's arrival, we set out to look for a good tree from which to rappel. The choice was limited so we rigged "a rappel to no where" from a small tree at the crest of the ridge. The two ropes barely reached the start of the snow gully to the left of the climb - the same gully that had been swept by an ice avalanche earlier in the day. Jens said - "Well, I am sorry about this, but it seems like this climb is turning into a small epic." With the sun all but extinct, I started the blind, unroped, down-climb. Initially, the terrain was steep enough that it made sense to face the slope. Unconsolidated snow turned into neve, which eventually became just snow pasted rock. It was pitch dark, my knee was killing me, and I had yet to recover Tom's ski poles. The though of buying Tom a new pair of ski poles became more appealing with every swing of my axes into the loose snow.

"Christian, where the hell are you?" - I yelled down the mountain and into the darkness.
"Here" - the answer came back, like if I could determine his position from the echoing reverberations in the walls of the gully.
"Where is 'here'?" - I inquired trying to keep my cool.
"At the base of the climb" - Christian replied.
"Do you see the ski poles?" - I asked with little hope.
"Yes, I have them already" - Christian replied.

"Sehr, sehr gut. Christian, das ist optimal."

From that point on, Christian was a true lifesaver by leading the way back to the access road. Meanwhile, the rest of the Regensburg crew had to deal with Enni who -in the words of Jens- "was severly fucked at that point, so it took us some time to cheer him up, which we did with proven relaxation techniques." Incomprehensible as they were, they somehow managed to get down just a couple of minutes after Christian and I. We raced for the packs where food and beverages waited for us (talk about being fools; we were blind and thirsty, while all along, we had hot tea and head lamps in our packs at the base of the mountain).

The walk out was hell for me and for my knee. By the end of the multi-kilometer walk, my knee was so weak that I felt flat on my back after slipping in a small patch of ice. A short drive latter we were back at the Rosshaus where one of our beautiful Tirolian hostess brought beers inciting a round of "Optimal" cheers. Beers were followed by huge Wiener Schnitzel (the kind that sticks out of the plate on both sides). With my knee the size of a grapefruit, I decided that a second day of ice climbing would be unwise. I paid my dues at the kitchen of the Rosshaus (BTW, this is where the owner's daughters hide when they are nowhere to be found), and said fair well to my new friends. Without a doubt, European hospitality had saved the day in more ways than one, and once again, been a member of the rec.climbing community had paid off.

Pedro I. Espina^© 1999