The Beckoning Silence (22 page)

‘They called their variation on your route “Avoiding the Touch”. How about that then, kid?’ Ray asked. I felt stunned.

‘Bloody hell! That’s great,’ I said at last.

I had always felt that we had done a very serious route but it had been overshadowed by the accident. It was sometimes a little irksome to think that I would be known as the climber who fell off a hill and crawled home. ‘But we probably did bite off more than we could chew,’ I added.

‘Yeah, but you climbed it in style, youth. That was your first experience of high-altitude climbing and you did the route in less time than Buhler and Price and think of the experience those guys have.’

‘That’s probably why we screwed up. We didn’t have their experience. We were running on empty, completely over-stretched …’

‘Don’t be so hard on yourself. They damn near killed themselves as well.’

I felt quite emotional at the news. In a way it was a great vindication for Simon and me as climbers to be praised by one of our peers.

‘Well done, mate, you deserve it,’ Ray said. ‘It’s some compliment, isn’t it?’

‘Absolutely brilliant,’ I said. ‘Funny, isn’t it? I was just thinking about Siula Grande, trying to convince myself that the Eiger was a good idea and now you tell me about Buhler.’

‘That settles it, then,’ Ray said confidently.

‘You know, we might be climbing well,’ I added, ‘but there is no way either of us are as fit as we used to be or will need to be for the Eiger.’

‘Better get training, then,’ Ray said confidently. ‘How long have we got? Five months. We’ll be fine, kid. You keep looking at those videos, familiarise yourself with the face,’ he added.

‘Listen, I’ve read so many books on the bloody Eiger I think I know it like the back of my hand now. Whenever you see a mention of the Eiger in any climbing books there is always some epic story involved.’

‘Stands to reason,’ Ray replied. ‘What’s the point of writing about a perfectly successful but uneventful climb? This sort of thing is self-perpetuating. The rat needs feeding.’

‘You mean like a self-fulfilling prophecy?’

‘Yeah, that sort of thing. As if people are so conscious of the history of the place that they inevitably start making it themselves.’

‘No, I don’t buy that,’ I said. ‘It is just a mountain in the end. Strip away the history and it is just another hill.’

‘Do you believe that?’ Ray exclaimed and burst out laughing.

‘Not really,’ I muttered sheepishly. ‘But if you think about it, when we went to Siula Grande it was just a mountain. When we came back it suddenly had some pretty serious history and now Buhler has just added to it. But the mountain itself hasn’t changed at all, has it? I mean, we didn’t think twice about attempting the west face. It was just a series of problems. There was no psychological baggage at all. All we have to do on the Eiger is see through all the tragedies …’

I put the phone down and thought about our decision to climb the Eiger. I felt the fear but it was overwhelmed by a keen sense of anticipation. Ray was right. It was where we should be, win or lose. And thinking about it, failure is never quite so frightening as regret.

'...the beckoning silence of great height.' Eiger North Face, September 2000.

Trudle and Anderl Heckmair with Joe and Ray. Kleine Scheidegg. September 2000.

Sedlmayr and Mehringer's names in the Hotel des Alpes Register, Grindelwald.

Joe, Anna Jossi and Alice Steuri, with the register, Grindelwald.

Joe beneath a sunset-washed Eigerwand

(left) A sombre Ray packs for the climb. (right) A sobering reminder of previous attempts.

Joe climbing the Difficult Crack.

The face turns into a deadly trap after a violent storm.

Ray belaying as the storm sweeps in.

Joe crossing the Hinterstoisser Traverse during the storm.