A Special Day, a Special Experience
Adventurous Climb of Mount Sonnblick

Yes, "another day another mountain," you might say. Not far from the truth. In the last 2 months we have kept ourselves busy on the weekends with various hikes and climbs in Austria. But today was not just some normal day, and this was not just some run-of-the-mill mountain. Today is my birthday, the mountain is Sonnblick and if you put the two together you get an adventure.

I don’t know where it comes from and why, but climbing mountains is definitely slightly addicting. The weekend after Grosglockner, we had a weekend off and I truly felt something is missing. I was hungry for more. Reading books like "Eiger Dreams" by Jon Krakauer, who also talks about this addiction and tries to give the reader an understanding of what’s behind it, just makes the feeling stronger.

"My mind is far away. The knuckles of my fingers hurt. That was the cold weather. My eyes burn. That was the strong wind filled with ice crystals..."

I was even asked, "Are you going to give up your longing and desire for warm tropical places and trade it for snowy cold Alpine air and glaciers?" The answer is "No". While nothing is certain, I see this as a temporary fling with the attractions of challenging mountains, but my true love still is the tropical heat and the place on the beach.

Now I am sitting here. In my stomach is a big piece of chocolate-peach-nut cake and some healthy herbal tea from the breakfast I just finished. It’s early in the afternoon. My mind is far away. The knuckles of my fingers hurt. That was the cold weather. My eyes burn. That was the strong wind filled with ice crystals. My back hurts. That is because we were climbing on hand and feet for a long duration. My knees hurt, for the usual reason knees hurt. And my mind? It is not in the normal state either. It is completely restless; jumping from one weird thought to another like it is wired wrongly. But who cares? All the pain is minor. Negligible. What counts is the feeling of accomplishment giving satisfaction and happiness.

It’s actually hard to write this as my brain still keeps jumping to the strangest thoughts and distracts me multiple times a second with messages about the 7,000m expedition I read about a few days back, weather reports, questions of where to go next, if I am still sane, the small hole I just discovered in my shirt, that there is food on the table, etc. I’ll do my best to make this trip report a lot less chaotic as my brain is right now.

Having done #1 and #3 of the Austrian mountains, it didn’t take long to figure out that our next trip should be to Wildspitze. At 3770m, it’s Austria’s number 2 peak. Preparations were running at full speed, but it didn’t look too promising. Some people didn’t have time; the weather wasn’t too rosy. I still had hope until the last minute to pull something off. Then I heard from two people that walked to the lowest Alpine refuge that "they barely made it" (to the lowest refuge that is) and that snowshoes are needed. With 40 to 90cm (1.3 to 3ft) of fresh snow, avalanche danger and such difficulties in the lowest regions we had to call it off. Thursday late afternoon I started scrambling for a new destination: high enough to be challenging, easy enough so that we need not rent any gear, and far enough away from Wildspitze so that the weather and snow conditions are better. I found it: Hoher Sonnblick. Now we had exactly 26 hours to complete research, planning and logistics. Let’s just say we were busy. The amount of time spent on preparations is unbelievably high. Sometimes you spend more time on preparing a hike/climb than actually doing. Sad, but true.

Sonnblick is not just a mountain, it is also a piece of history. The Celts were here on this mountain looking for and finding gold. After the Celts, the Romans came. They also knew about the gold deposits and spent time here on Sonnblick. Even today right on the bottom of the mountain is a gold panning area where tourists come and try their luck. A lot more than gold can be found here though. Quartz and other mineral deposits exist and after the gold the next treasure found here was salt. Salt used to be an extremely valuable good and it made some people rich. One of the salt barons was a Mr. von Zittel. Given this name I have to assume he was part of Austrian nobility. Anyway, he was rich and had a cabin built right on the very top of Mount Sonnblick, at 3105m (9300ft). This was in or before 1880. This building was then replaced and modified to become a weather observatory. At that time it was the world’s highest weather observatory. Today there are others that are higher, but even today it remains Austria’s highest weather observatory. The weather data from Mount Sonnblick is now available daily on the Internet. The building housing the weather station has kept its name: Zittelhaus.

"Blood was running down his hand and we had to get the first aid box out. A band-aid had to do the job for the time being...."

Plans are made to be ruined. I am at the airport Friday night, full of excitement and ready to fly to Austria via Germany when the airline announces at the gate just minutes before the departure that the flight is canceled. Turns out they knew already 24 hours ago but never bothered to tell passengers still hoping that through some miracle the flight would take place. The local FAA had rearranged air routes causing a massive mess with every single flight being 3 to 4 hours delayed and 25% of the flights being canceled. I was fuming. Not because of the mess but because they knew for one to two days and could have easily advised passengers that their flights would be severely delayed, that they would miss the connecting flights and giving them options to prepare for that. Anyway it was impossible to get a flight to anywhere in Austria. I did get a flight to Frankfurt though. Only problem left: Frankfurt is 600km (380 miles) from where I needed to be. With plane and train being no options, it was down to a rental car. After landing in Frankfurt at 11 p.m. and 4.5 hours of pedal-to-the-metal driving I got to Austria where I started packing in the middle of the night. At 4:30 I went to bed just to sleep for 30 minutes. At 5 a.m. the day-trip to Sonnblick started.

It was a family affair. Gerhard and Franz, my brothers, and I formed the team. Sonnblick is one of the many peaks in the Hohe Tauern, a section of the Alps. It has a glacier, although small, surrounding the peak. As the birds fly, it is only 25km (15 miles) from Grosglockner to Sonnblick. Several rivers flow from the Alps in a straight South-North direction into the Salzach River in the district of Salzburg. One of these rivers is the Rauris River. The valley and the largest village in the valley carry the same name: Rauris Valley and Rauris. Sonnblick is the origin of Rauris River and is located at the end of the valley. We entered the valley briefly before 8 a.m.

Rauris Valley is picturesque. Small old houses built with rocks, not bricks, occasionally lined the road. Some of them still heating with wood like centuries ago. The sun was already up and threw the first beams at the mountain range on the west side. Early morning clouds were still hanging in mid-air and slowly drifting away. The air was crisp and cold. It was a beautiful fall morning in the Alps. Rauris has a lot of charm. Really beautiful old buildings. But we had no time for that, we had to push on. Cows and horses were out on the meadows and fields. The grass had a silver shimmer from the early morning dew. A calf had somehow jumped the fence and was standing between the fenced cow pasture and the road and couldn’t get back to its family. It looked a bit lost. Soon, Sonnblick appeared at the end of the valley. First the peak was still cloud covered and only a tiny portion painted in yellowish sunshine. Only minutes later even the peak was visible. The foot of the mountain was brownish which then slowly changed to white. The upper half of the mountain was covered with the white powder.

At the end of the valley is the tiny village of Kolm-Saigurn and a parking lot. Kolm-Saigurn is at 1628 m (4900ft). The valley floor is narrow and on three sides encompassed by mountains. The trail goes along the Rauris River. Around us in the distance a dozen of waterfalls add to the beauty. They are easy to spot as the white water forms a sharp contrast to the dark brown of the soil and the rocks. Everything on the bottom of the valley has this brownish touch. It is fall. In summer, it would be all green. Sonnblick is the highlight of the valley, the jewel of this small region so to speak. The word "Sonnblick" translates into "A view of the sun". The sun was up there right now making the mountain sparkle.

The biggest waterfall is called Barbarafall and we walked by the foot of the fall. It’s ok, nothing too spectacular, or maybe I was just focusing on something else. At 15m (45ft) it’s of medium size. The other falls might not even have names. Water is here in abundance, we had to cross a few creeks and everything is wet. Water is not just running down the creeks but also down the trails. For a short stretch we cut our own trail through the rocks. We found several fist-size junks of very clean white quartz. We found head-sized pieces of not so clean quartz. Now I regret I didn’t take a few smaller pieces with me. While crossing yet another creek, Gerhard slipped on a wet rock and while trying to catch his fall cut his thumb on the inside on a rock. Blood was running down his hand and we had to get the first aid box out. A band-aid had to do the job for the time being.

At an elevation of 1800m (5500ft) standing water has turned to ice. The trail that was wet and covered with sharp rocks now was also sporadically covered with a thin layer of ice. Being forewarned by Gerhard’s mishap, we had to pay full attention to the trail. In 90 minutes fast- paced walking we reached the first landmark: Naturfreundehaus Neubau, an Alpine refuge at about 2200m (6600ft). Everything was locked up tight for the winter until May. That was expected; nearly all Alpine refuges close in the first week of October. I was sweating and the wind was strong and cold. It was best to move on. Only yards from here is an old ruin. Three of the outer walls are left from this castle. It doesn’t fit here. Do you ever think of a glacier and snow covered peaks when you think about the word "castle". No. It was a strange surrounding for a ruin. A bridge led over the Rauris, up here just a midsized creek; maybe 6 yards wide.

"With the snow loosened by my ascent and giving less hold the others behind me couldn’t follow. We had to get the rope out..."

For a short stretch the path was flat. We found two ponds covered with ice. Under the thin ice surfaces were moss and other small plants, flooded. These plants looked frozen in time for eternity. The ice and water gave them an eerie look. They looked alive, but didn’t move. The ice, breaking the light, added an unusual 3-dimensional effect. A quick photo break to capture the scenery left me seeking shelter from the wind behind a rock. Time to get the gloves out. My brother carried a full bag of photo equipment and even brought a tripod. All the essentials you need on a mountain.

Another half hour and we reached the snow line. It wasn’t bad initially, just a foot of snow to start with, then it turned into two, then three. We had to make our own track. There was no sign of a human being anywhere. We haven’t seen a single hiker all day. There were no tracks or other traces in the snow. I was sure we were pretty alone. We had the whole mountain to ourselves. That was a good feeling. Not that I am possessive; but having a whole mountain to yourself for a day is great. I even perceived laying the track as fun and something positive. It was actually the first time I was laying a track in snow on a high-mountain hike. Beats following a big crowd any day. Every inch of snow is so white and clean. Every step you have complete freedom of where to put your foot, every step is a first, every step leaves behind a unique imprint of the soles of your hiking boots, with every step the fresh white untouched snow gives off crunching sounds. Music to my ears.

We reached some man-made metal structure. It looked like a structure holding measuring equipment; maybe air quality measurement stuff to monitor the environment. Here the trail disappeared. It was covered under feet of snow. Usually you can tell where a trail is, even if fully covered by snow, by looking at the landscape and searching for patterns, lines that are never blocked by big boulders, and a slight shift in angle in a slope. Here we couldn’t spot anything. Had we spent time on exploring the vicinity we would have found the trail eventually, but hiking a mountain cross-country off the beaten path can be so much fun too. Why bother looking for the trail? It was early in the afternoon and until now we had excellent weather and sunshine. Now clouds moved in, just as predicted in the forecast. The clouds gathered 200 yards above us.

Standing at the metal structure we looked down on a small valley just some 20 yards in elevation below us. On the other side there was a steep ascent. It looked doable from the distance. The Sonnblick peak was out of sight. The slope across the valley took all the sight of what lay behind it and about now clouds where moving in that would hide the peak behind shrouds anyway. In the valley were some crevasses. We got closer to take a good look. The one we investigated was like a cave, not straight down but with an angle backwards. The ice was strong enough to hold a small boulder that must have come loose from the slope in front of us. For a photo opportunity I placed myself at the edge of the crevasse. If the ice were strong enough to hold a boulder it would be strong enough to hold me. Icicles were hanging down the edge of the cave- like crevasse. I couldn’t quite see the bottom of it, but I would guess it was 4 to 5 meters (15 ft) deep.

After the Kodak moments it was time to approach the slope in front of us. In the valley we just crossed we occasionally sank into the snow up to the belly button. Not too surprising, the wind would gather the snow there. But even here on the slope we sometimes sank in down to the belt. The slope was also steep and with two steps forward, it would be one step back. From the distance it all looks easier. Now up-close, I couldn’t believe how steep it was. The well-known 35 degree slope on Grosglockner was paling in comparison. In the extreme spots I was standing there upright in the snow and my eyes where only half a meter (20 inches) from the snow at eye height. We worked with arms and legs to make our way forward. Unfortunately, the steeper the hill the more likely it is that you slip downhill with the snow. So you make a small 1-foot step forward and upward, but snow and gravity pull you back by the same distance. One spot gave us a hard time. It took me a few attempts to get over it. With the snow loosened by my ascent and giving less hold the others behind me couldn’t follow. We had to get the rope out. They threw one end up to me. I tied it around my shoulders and chest, dug into snow, secured myself with the iceaxe and then Franz and Gerhard pulled themselves up on the rope. Worked fine. That was the only spot we had to resort to that technique on that slope.

"The way up was covered in ice and snow and it was kind of hard to see which parts would hold an adult. I put the iceaxe on top of the rock and when I shifted my weight on the next step the snow beneath one of my feet crumbled. I yelled out "I am slipping"..."

It was good news to see the next Alpine refuge. Rojacher Hütte is 2,718m (8,100ft) above sea level. It was snowed in and closed. It was pretty small in size in comparison to other Alpine refuges. We had walked about 4 hours so far and rested half an hour. To the top it is 400m (1,200ft) in elevation and 90 minutes hiking/climbing according to the book. What we had done up to now was the easy part, the difficult portion would start here. The wind was strong and cold. I had to get the next layer of clothing out. I put on my jacket and replaced my thin baseball cap with the jacket hood and a warm wool cap that I pulled down to my eyes and over the ears. The weather was not perfect but also not terrible. From here on upwards were clouds and visibility was about 100m (300 ft). The wind was strong. One could see from the refuge that it would get more difficult and certainly more dangerous as the path led along a sharp ridge.

We had left the car in the morning with the understanding that we would walk up to Rojacher Hütte and then make the final decision if we want to continue on to the peak. Now that we were at Rojacher Hütte none of us three raised the question again or gave a verbal answer. Gerhard only asked "Who goes second on the rope?" We decided that I would lead, Franz is the middleman, Gerhard the rearman. We left everything, camera and all 3 backpacks, behind in the snow. It was just us, the rope and the mountain. A nice threesome.

When we left the refuge, it was most likely about 2 p.m. We had to keep up our fast pace. Time was running a bit short. My fingers were freezing because for the last hour I had to frequently use my hands working my way through and up the snow. I think we all felt physically well and overall comfortable. It goes without saying that spirits and motivation were high if not soaring. The red markings on the rocks were calling our names. Fortunately there were literally hundreds of red markings. Enough of them on vertical snow-free surfaces for us to find the way easily. Without them it would have been impossible. There was a marking every 10m (30ft). The snow was mostly firm which helped. This gave us a secure footing. On steep sections it allowed us to make primitive steps with two swings of our boots. Punching a small hole of 5cm (2 inches) with the front of your boot was usually enough to make a solid footing for the next step. A steep approach led to the ridge. Hands were as essential as legs here. We had to bend over an awful lot, with our hands assisting the ascent. On the snowy portions hands placed on the snow helped us with the balance. With nearly every step I put the iceaxe so deep in the snow and ice that the handle was flat on the snow.

Once on the ridge the route changes back and forth between easy climbs and flat, open, exposed ridge portions where you get to visually enjoy the drop on both sides. We all felt very comfortable on the ridge and secured ourselves only on difficult spots. On a few, maybe 10, spots the mountain provides man-made 15cm (5in) metal poles that can be used to secure the rope. In other places we use rocks to secure ourselves. The scariest-looking portion is a big overhanging rock, you have to crouch down and slip under the rock. The rock is covered by inches of ice. First I have to clear all the beautiful icicles of the overhanging portion. These were gorgeously styled 5cm (2in) thick icicles that had grown to the length of half a meter (20in). I felt sad that I had to destroy natures work, this curtain of icicles, but we had to get beneath that rock. My brothers secured me and the rope was tight to shorten the distance of any potential fall to a mere 3 meters (9ft). Once beneath the rock you can stand upright again, then you walk a couple of steps with a drop to your left and then its up again. The way up was covered in ice and snow and it was kind of hard to see which parts would hold an adult. I put the iceaxe on top of the rock and when I shifted my weight on the next step the snow beneath one of my feet crumbled. I yelled out "I am slipping" instantly. But I just slipped by a few centimeters (couple of inches) before I had a secure hold again. Better to yell too early than too late. No more chances now. I used the iceaxe to clear the rock of all snow and ice on the portions where I wanted to put my feet. Just two steps and I was up without difficulties.

"In giant steps we went, slid or crawled through the snow. Again, we occasionally ended up with the lower half of our bodies disappearing in the snow. For a few meters you could create a skiing-like effect effortlessly sliding down a steep hill..."

More of the ridge walking followed. It felt good to finally walk upright again for a change. The visibility deteriorated. It was down to 50m (150ft) now. Still, looking down 50m into a sheer drop is fascinating enough. In front of us we could see how the snow and ice actually formed an overhanging portion. It is like in the movies; we got to see the "coming attractions". The wind that mostly blows from the west, pushes the snow inch by inch over the edge; it than freezes to ice and the process is repeated until you see what I saw now for the first time, not on TV, but in reality. A mountain ridge where the top portion is formed only of ice and snow which is overhanging. Beneath it is just thin air. In a certain spot the rock is also slightly overhanging. I was just thinking "... if the ice breaks while you walk on it you have a full 100 meters (300ft) or more of free fall in front of you ..." I made very sure I wasn’t close to that edge and walked in 2 to 3 meters distance from it.

At the end of the ridge the Zittelhaus, the weather observatory right on top of the peak, popped out of the clouds into visibility. It was a mere 50m (150ft) from us. Here the mountain widens and flattens on one side. The second side stays vertical. All we had to do now is to walk down into a little trough and then up a slope to the snow pounded building. Looked like a piece of cake. We should be there in 2 minutes, right? Not quite. Those 2 minutes turned into 20 minutes. That’s about 2m (6 feet) per minute.

I noticed that the snow on this short stretch downhill had a different consistency. It wasn’t that firm, slightly ice covered snow we had so far, but it was frozen rock-solid and hard snow. It was so hard that it was nearly impossible to dent it with our boots. Instead of the usual 2 swings with the boot it took 5 to 10 to barely scratch the surface. I was working my way down slowly, warning the others that it is extremely slippery. Just after I have done 5m (15ft) and reinforced that message I was already slipping, yelling "I am slipping", turning around onto the side while sliding and swinging the iceaxe full force into the ice to stop the slide. It all went quickly. 2 yards down from where I was before I was now hanging belly-down on the firmly placed iceaxe. We made it to the bottom of the trough, but not without Gerhard and Franz also slipping and their butt down on the ice once.

Now it was just 30m up. The vertical drop to the right of this icefield made me think twice with every step. I moved up the length of the rope with minimal support for my feet. Then I dug two deep holes in the ice and assured a secure footing for myself. Whole body flat on the ice and both hands on the also secured iceaxe I was ready for Franz to pull himself up on the rope. It worked, but not well. We switched techniques. Instead of pulling my brothers up, it was safer to just chisel steps into the ice with the iceaxe. In 80cm (2.5ft) spacing I cut steps until we were right at the entrance door of the Zittelhaus. That technique worked a lot better.

A few more minutes and I secured myself to a metal strutting of the building. We were on the top. Zittelhaus, Hoher Sonnblick, 3105m (ca. 9300ft). Not necessarily a high mountain but under these conditions a challenging one to climb. We looked down the vertical drop on one side of the building. Two powerlines run up here to provide electricity, environmentally clean power for the equipment of the weather station housed in the building. The Zittelhaus showed itself to us as a bizarre looking building. There was something right next to the building, but the snow had disfigured it so badly I couldn’t tell what it is. Snow and strong winds whipped the building, creating weird ice and snow formations right on the walls, the roof and anything. Franz was sad that he didn’t bring his camera. Besides the unreal-looking building there was nothing to see. Visibility deteriorated even more. It was down to 20m. The wind was unpleasant on the way up, and kept increasing. With only 5 minutes at the peak we turned around. On the way back we had to be safe yet quick.

We turned around and in reverse order we headed down the mountain. The steps in the ice made the task a lot easier. For the next 90 minutes we would backtrack our own footprints, often step by step, placing the boots into the same hole we made on the way up. With the limited visibility and the time pressure we just focused on getting down safely. There was nothing to see anyway. The wind started to annoy me. It was gusty on the ridge. You had to brace yourself on occasions. Worst of all was that the gusty wind carried tiny ice crystals that poked our faces like needles. My face could live with that, but not my eyes. Wearing glasses and a windshield on the cap helped but didn’t eliminate the problem. It was really painful in my eyes and I especially worried because of my old eye injury. Frozen water drops formed on the eyelashes. On the easier parts I close my injured eye for protection. So, I was partly walking with only 2-D instead of 3-D vision. The wind also made communication difficult. It was occasionally so strong that the next person a mere 10m (30ft) away could not hear your yelling.

There were no surprises on the way back. In two spots our tracks had disappeared and there we had to look again carefully for any markings. For a few moments when another gust carrying ice crystals swept by visibility was down to zero. But that happened only for seconds. I was so glad when we finally came off the ridge because that meant that the wind was less. As we got lower, visibility started to improve. As we reached Rojacher Hütte we had clear view of everything below us. From here on we could see for miles. We made it out of the cloud layer and finally the wind was down to a reasonable level. We recovered our backpacks, took off the rope and were on our way again. This time instead of going cross-country as we came we looked for the trail and found it. In giant steps we went, slid or crawled through the snow. Again, we occasionally ended up with the lower half of our bodies disappearing in the snow. For a few meters you could create a skiing-like effect effortlessly sliding down a steep hill. Once I was not careful and tumbled, falling head first face-down into the snow. In this powdery snow that is no problem, it’s fun.

We carefully crossed the valley with the crevasses looking briefly at another one from a safe distance and found our old track again near the metal tower on the other side of the valley. The sun was setting and as Franz took his last picture of the day we checked the time. 6:15 p.m. Later than we thought. It took us an estimated 2 and a half hours on the way up to where we were now. Simple math would tell us that it would be dark by the time we reach the car. Eventually we got out of the snow, crossed the Rauris creek and passed by the Alpine refuge Naturfreundehaus Neubau. Shortly thereafter came a fork. "Kolm Saigurn steep" it said on one sign, "Kolm Saigurn easy" on the other. We opted for the easy route.

The easy route was very flat, barely going downhill. As I wanted to walk a bit faster we separated and I went ahead. Half an hour later I realized we had made the wrong choice. This trail crosses the whole area, bringing us to one creek after the other always heading eastwards. It led everywhere but not downhill were we needed to go. I could make out the dirt road on the bottom of the valley in the dim evening light but I wasn’t getting any closer to it. Quite the opposite I seemed to get further away from it. After crossing what seemed the 10th creek, I stopped counting. It was dark by now. The same problem we had in the morning, thin layers of ice on the trail and the lack of any light made for an entertaining descent. I was very thankful that the trail markings on the rocks were red and white. White is such an unnatural color in this environment that it sticks out in the dark. I could never see the red markings but I could often spot the white. There was no moon, just the stars. They gave pretty poor light. In the valley where the dirt road is I saw some light coming from a building. At least I knew roughly in which direction I needed to go. But the trail still didn’t lead that way. Sometimes I wondered if I was walking down a trail or down a creek. There wasn’t too much difference as the water was also running down the trails. Eventually I came to another fork. Under these light conditions it was hard to tell if this is really a fork or if the water just washed out another path down. It took a long time but eventually I ended up on the foot of the Barbara waterfalls.

Now the minutes just stretched forever. It took a while before I got to the house where the light came from and thereafter the dirt road to the parking lot didn’t seem to end. I kept saying "I should be there by now. Did we really walk this far in the morning? Did I miss a turn somewhere?" I was always on the right course; my mind was just playing tricks on me. At the car I put on dry shirt, pants, socks and shoes. I was hungry. All of us just had an apple all day long. We never had time to eat our cheese sandwiches we carried. I placed all the food and drinks from the trunk in the inside of the car and started the engine to heat up the car. Then I got bored and decided to pick them up. I only made 200m (600ft) when their faces appeared in the headlight. It was 8 p.m. and there was no time for a leisurely dinner. We hopped in the car and Franz drove while Gerhard and I had dinner on the back seat. Then we rotated drivers and Franz had dinner on the back seat.

On this small country road toward Rauris, the calf we had seen in the morning was still standing outside the fenced cow pasture. All day it must have been trying in vain to get back in. Poor thing. The rest of the way home, I paid no attention to what was outside the car. I didn’t have to, I was chauffeured.

This was an excellent birthday. Making it to the top was of course the best presents of all. A thank you goes to the weather gods and my company who made it possible. The freezing, the frost pain in the finger knuckles and the pain in the back are all worth it. At least I know I have done something, accomplished something. I don’t like things the easy way. Sometimes I think I am a bit of a masochist. During summer the views are definitely better and one can enjoy the scenery more. Under the conditions we had it was more of a challenge. Overcoming minor obstacles makes for a good experience and long lasting memories. We all learned something today, about mountains, about us.

One of the elements that made it so special to me was that the mountain was completely unspoiled. We had the whole mountain to us. Not a single soul was there, not a single footprint to see. It was so unbelievably untouched, just fantastic. Given that I had to remove this curtain of thick icicles on that overhanging rock on the ridge close to the top it is apparent that nobody climbed to top for at least 3 days.

It was a unique experience, an experience worthy of a birthday.

— Manfred Pfluegl, MountainZone.com Pubster