- SIMON GIETL -
STIMMATE
Val Badia: una volta vista, non si scorda più. È uno di quei paesaggi che, quando ne parli a qualcuno che non c'è mai stato, pensa che te lo stia inventando.
Val Badia: una volta vista, non si scorda più. È uno di quei paesaggi che, quando ne parli a qualcuno che non c'è mai stato, pensa che te lo stia inventando. Se non ci sei mai stato, rimarrai sbalordito da prati verdissimi, fattorie curate, file di pecci che paiono nascondere il passaggio dal prato alla roccia dolomitica.
A Pedraces, per esempio, guarda a nord, verso Brunico. Vedrai il gruppo dell'Odle (Puez-Geisler) alla tua sinistra e il Sas dla Crusc (Heiligkreuzkofel, o Sasso di Santa Croce) a destra. All'alba, guarda la luce filtrare da est mentre accarezza dapprima le vette del Sass Rigais e la Furchetta e poi gli altri picchi di queste incredibili montagne. Al tramonto, quella parte del giorno in cui assaporare il silenzio e il panorama prima di rannicchiarti attorno alla stufa rovente, voltati verso il Sas dla Crusc. Guardalo arrossire, mentre l'ombra dell'Odle lo sfiora delicatamente.
Simon Gietl and Andrea Oberacher are climbing over an impressive roof, right under the arête after which the wall turns west. They are making the first free ascent of “Das Erbe der Väter” (The Heritage of our Fathers), the route that Simon opened with Vittorio Messini. It’s bold and traditional, ground up, protected with trad gear and pegs and involves sport climbing difficulties up to UIAA 9-. This is the way Simon likes it: modern routes climbed free. Pure alpinism, similar to the ethics of our forefathers. You just have to watch him climb. Just look at the topo. Just look at how the route picks its way up through the sea of yellow rock. Respect. Simon grew up just outside Luttach, in the Aurina valley. He has always been a hard worker, first on his family’s farmstead, then as a carpenter. His first contact with climbing, fifteen or so years ago, was totally by chance. He was hitchhiking from Dobbiaco to Brunico, and a climber gave him a lift. After chatting and listening to the stories and tales shared during that drive, Simon decided to give climbing a go.
Simon Gietl and Andrea Oberacher are climbing over an impressive roof, right under the arête after which the wall turns west. They are making the first free ascent of “Das Erbe der Väter” (The Heritage of our Fathers). It’s bold and traditional, ground up, protected with trad gear and pegs and involves sport climbing difficulties up to UIAA 9-. This is the way Simon likes it: pure alpinism, similar to the ethics of our forefathers. You just have to watch him climb. Respect. Simon grew up just outside Luttach, in the Aurina valley. He has always been a hard worker, first on his family’s farmstead, then as a carpenter. His first contact with climbing, fifteen or so years ago, was totally by chance. He was hitchhiking from Dobbiaco to Brunico, and a climber gave him a lift. After chatting and listening to the stories and tales shared during that drive, Simon decided to give climbing a go.
Simon Gietl and Andrea Oberacher are climbing over an impressive roof, right under the arête after which the wall turns west. They are making the first free ascent of “Das Erbe der Väter” (The Heritage of our Fathers). It’s bold and traditional, ground up, protected with trad gear and pegs and involves sport climbing difficulties up to UIAA 9-. This is the way Simon likes it: pure alpinism, similar to the ethics of our forefathers. You just have to watch him climb. Respect. Simon grew up just outside Luttach, in the Aurina valley. He has always been a hard worker, first on his family’s farmstead, then as a carpenter. His first contact with climbing, fifteen or so years ago, was totally by chance. He was hitchhiking from Dobbiaco to Brunico, and a climber gave him a lift. After chatting and listening to the stories and tales shared during that drive, Simon decided to give climbing a go.
Sotto il Sas dla Crusc si trova una chiesetta isolata. Una piccola chiesa montana, ben tenuta, proprio come i tabié, i fienili di montagna più in basso. La chiesa è antica, molto antica. La sua consacrazione risale probabilmente al 1484, con la benedizione del vescovo ausiliare di Bressanone. Esistono dei posti che fanno davvero percepire quanto grande e vecchio sia il mondo. Alcuni dicono che si tratti della mano di Dio; altri, meno religiosi, lo vedono come un segno di rispetto e di contemplazione di fronte alla bellezza. La chiesetta di Santa Croce è uno di quei luoghi in cui l'uomo, da millenni, avverte il senso del sublime.
“Guarda là, guarda quella via!” Il sole cala alla fine di un giorno d'estate, la sua voce riecheggia dal Sas dla Crusc, giù nella valle sottostante. “La sai una cosa? Hai ragione!” “Sembra difficile, impervia, ma la via si inerpica secondo una logica”. Simon Gietl sta facendo una discesa in corda doppia e rallenta per osservare più attentamente. Andrea Oberbacher, sopra di lui, ancora in sosta, lo guarda apparire e sparire, mentre si cala a balzelloni. “Che te ne pare, Simon? È scalabile?” Andrea chiama. Un silenzio carico di riflessione. “Non lo so, dovremmo vedere. Ma una cosa è certa. Non ci sono altre vie qui. Nessuno ha mai trovato un modo per passarci. Andiamo a dare un'occhiata”.
Chiacchierando e scherzando, entusiasti dei nuovi progetti, i due continuano la discesa regolare fino a terra. Raccolgono l'attrezzatura, si sistemano gli zaini sulle spalle e scendono verso la chiesetta. Ci si fermano proprio davanti. Si voltano, guardano in alto verso il Sas dla Crusc e la parete, ancora una volta. Come in sincronia, il loro sguardo segue la stessa via allo stesso tempo. Socchiudono gli occhi per cogliere ogni particolare, pensando alla qualità della roccia gialla e nera.
“Allora”, chiede Simon, “hai da fare dopodomani?”
Andrea ridacchia. Si conoscono bene, si arrampicano insieme da anni. Quando vai in arrampicata con qualcuno ne condividi le sensazioni, i sogni e le paure, spesso in spazi limitati. Impari subito a conoscerlo. Andrea si aspettava quella domanda.
And he’s been climbing ever since. It didn’t take him long to decide that climbing, or rather, that specific way of climbing, was what he wanted to dedicate his life to. Or at least part of his life. He is also dedicated to Sandra, Iano and Iari, his wife and two children. This is why he inspires such admiration and respect. Simon is a man who understands the consequences of the choices he makes. He knows that his life is not only about himself. Every decision, including electing to open a route of that difficulty, from the ground up, on that rock, is tempered by a great sense of responsibility. The sun is starting to set behind Cima Ovest. Simon and Andrea are out of sight. They’ve reached the great ringband terrace and then the summit. The wind carries an exuberant shout of joy far towards the distant meadows of Misurina. A small flock of choughs flies past with complete indifference, heading towards who knows where. Das Erbe der Väter is a unique route. Without a doubt. It’s an innovative feat, opening a line of that level of difficulty using a traditional approach. It’s more than just a route, it’s a tribute to the climbers who laid the historical foundations of alpinism and a prophecy of the climbers who will envisage and create its future – on this same mountain – in years to come.
It didn’t take him long to decide that climbing was what he wanted to dedicate his life to. Or at least part of his life. He is also dedicated to Sandra, Iano and Iari, his wife and two children. He knows that his life is not only about himself. Every decision, including electing to open a route of that difficulty, from the ground up, on that rock, is tempered by a great sense of responsibility. The sun is starting to set behind Cima Ovest. Simon and Andrea are out of sight. They’ve reached the great ringband terrace and then the summit. The wind carries an exuberant shout of joy far towards the distant meadows of Misurina. Das Erbe der Väter is more than just a route, it’s a tribute to the climbers who laid the historical foundations of alpinism and a prophecy of the climbers who will envisage and create its future – on this same mountain – in years to come.
It didn’t take him long to decide that climbing was what he wanted to dedicate his life to. Or at least part of his life. He is also dedicated to Sandra, Iano and Iari, his wife and two children. He knows that his life is not only about himself. Every decision, including electing to open a route of that difficulty, from the ground up, on that rock, is tempered by a great sense of responsibility. The sun is starting to set behind Cima Ovest. Simon and Andrea are out of sight. They’ve reached the great ringband terrace and then the summit. The wind carries an exuberant shout of joy far towards the distant meadows of Misurina. Das Erbe der Väter is more than just a route, it’s a tribute to the climbers who laid the historical foundations of alpinism and a prophecy of the climbers who will envisage and create its future – on this same mountain – in years to come.
“No, non ho nulla in programma. Attento però, tua moglie potrebbe essere gelosa”.
Simon scoppia a ridere, dà una pacca sulla spalla del compagno d'arrampicata e continua a scendere.
Hai presente cosa si prova quando si aspetta qualcosa di davvero speciale? Non il fine settimana, qualcosa di veramente speciale. Quel misto di entusiasmo e attesa, come quando da bambino friggevi per aprire i regali di Natale. Il tempo trascorre in modo diverso, sembra che vada a rilento. È così che si sentono Simon e Andrea nei due giorni prima del ritorno.
Pieni di aspettative, si incontrano di nuovo sotto il Sas dla Crusc. Una nuova via, giusto nel mezzo di quella parete: quello sì che sarebbe un regalo. Durante l'avvicinamento restano in silenzio, un passo dopo l'altro, divorando la roccia con gli occhi.
Al sopraggiungere dell'alba, il sole sorge mentre si legano. Al crepuscolo hanno finito, dopo aver trascorso la giornata esplorando quel mare di roccia, cercando cavità e crepe per collocarvi picchetti, camme o almeno un dado. Simon a volte dice di tornare indietro, andare avanti. Per lui, l’“alpinismo” è quello dei nostri padri, un concetto di gran lunga più complesso e articolato rispetto a “limitarsi a usare attrezzi tradizionali”. L'uomo è sempre andato alla ricerca di luoghi in cui avvertire il senso del sublime. Simon ritiene che si tratti di ben più di un semplice luogo. Scalare i monti, lasciando quante meno tracce possibili, legarsi con un compagno che rispetti, qualcuno che ti capisce senza stargli a parlare, gli occhi sempre aperti per scoprire la prossima avventura.
Altri tre giorni e un bivacco sulla parete per aprire la nuova via. L'intuizione nel trovare le vie, la perseveranza nelle sessioni più difficoltose, il sangue freddo e la padronanza di sé nell'accettare una protezione precaria o lontana. Simon e Andrea non sono i protagonisti di un libro. Sono persone vere, con amici e familiari che li aspettano a casa. Non sono eroi. In molte occasioni si sono chiesti se valesse la pena andare avanti. Però continuano a rispondersi di sì.
Passa un anno dall'apertura della via. Ci sono nuovi progetti, arrampicate invernali, spedizioni verso altre parti del mondo. Un anno intero, prima che giunga il momento di tentare l'ascesa libera.
Quante cose ci sarebbero da dire. Potremmo descrivere i paesaggi, o la pulsione che ci spinge a ricercare il sublime, o come una cordata sia ben più della somma di due persone e una corda. Altre cose però sono più difficili da comunicare. L'atmosfera durante la prima ascesa libera di una via è tra queste. In che modo descrivere la concentrazione muta di Simon e Andrea mentre indossano l'imbrago e si legano prima di partire? O come esprimere il modo in cui si sostengono e incoraggiano a vicenda nei punti cruciali? L'occhiata veloce a una protezione lontana prima di proseguire con calma. Il cuore che accelera quando un piede scivola prima di trovare un punto d'appoggio migliore. Il modo in cui i due uomini sorridono, soprattutto con gli occhi.
È una sera di fine luglio. Simon e Andrea tornano giù dal Sas dla Crusc per l'ultima volta. Non scherzano, non si prendono in giro, non parlano. Non perché siano stanchi, o perché la strada fosse lunga. Non perché il punto cruciale era 10-. Sanno entrambi che non ci sono altre vie come questa nelle Dolomiti. Assaporano in silenzio il dono di averla trovata, aperta e scalata.
Proprio come un anno fa, Simon e Andrea si fermano alla chiesetta, voltandosi per ammirare quel versante ancora una volta. Sul prato ci sono tre vecchie sculture incise nel legno di pino: Cristo e i due ladroni rantolanti e inchiodati alle croci suggeriscono un altro cammino per giungere al sublime. La via scalata da Simon e Andrea, la via verso il sublime, è proprio là, dietro i crocefissi. Ecco perché è chiamata Stigmate.
Paul pulls the window down. “Hey, Ken!” The shaggy Alaskan turns around, and stares at the Austrian. It could be the light of dawn, but he sees something more than a simple pilot, and something more than an adventurer. He sees a man who had no fear to take a new road, to follow a dream, to understand the true spirit of Alaska, beyond the rhetoric of the last frontier. He sees someone who flies to fly, someone for which air is not only what your wings, or your sail fly across. Someone for which the never ending kilometers of tundra, lakes and mountains are not a distance to merely fly across, but a space in which to express oneself. It could be the light of dawn, but Ken is almost touched by the thought. “Ken, I wanted to say…no, forget it. Thanks, you are awesome, see you in four days. Buy some beer!” Ken lifts his thumb. Paul turns on the engine, taking off with elegant precision from the narrow strip which by now he calls air field. He gains height, while the intense morning light starts to caress Seward’s Folly. Four hours later his plane is parked on the edge of a nameless valley, somewhere east of Peter’s Dome. Paul is running fast; behind him the paraglider inflates, and his feet lose contact with the ground beneath. Around him a never ending expanse of new and incredible places, there is no sign of a person, a house, or a trail. “Flying to fly” he giggles happily, fixing himself in the saddle. “Yes, this is exactly what dreams coming true taste like.”
- SIMON GIETL -
STIGMATA
Val Badia: you’ll never forget the first time you see it. It’s one of those landscapes that when you talk about it to someone who’s never been there they’ll think you’re making it up.
If you’ve never been, you’ll be amazed by the meadows that are so green, the farmhouses that are so well looked after, and the row of spruce trees that seem to hide the transition from meadow into dolomite rock. At Pedraces, for example, look north, towards Brunico. You’ll see the Odle (Puez-Geisler) group to your left and Sas dla Crusc (Heiligkreuzkofel) to the right. At sunrise, watch the light filter in from the east, first stroking the summits of Sas Rigais and Furchetta, then the other peaks of these incredible mountains. At sunset, a time of day to enjoy the silence and the view before curling up around a warm stove, turn around towards Sas dla Crusc. See how it blushes, as the shadow of the Odle gently brushes it.
Below Sas dla Crusc, there is an isolated church. A small mountain church, well looked after, just like the tabié, the mountain haylofts, further down. The church is old, very old. Its consecration probably dates back to 1484, blessed by the Auxiliary Bishop of Brixen. There are certain places that really make you feel how big and old the world is. Some people say that this is the hand of God; others less religiously inclined see it as respect and contemplation in the face of beauty. The little church of Santa Croce is one of those places where man has felt a sense of the sublime for millennia. “Look at that, look at that line!” The sun is sinking at the end of a summer’s day, his voice echoes off Sas dla Crusc, down into the valley below. “You know what? You’re right!” It looks tough, really tough, but the line climbs up logically.” Simon Gietl is abseiling, he slows down to look more carefully. Andrea Oberbacher, above him, still at the belay, watches him appear and disappear as he rappels down in leaps and bounds. “What do you think? Is it climbable Simon?” Andrea calls down. Thoughtful silence. “Don’t know, we would need to see. But I know one thing for sure. There is no other route there. No one has ever found a way through. I think we should go take a look.” Chatting and joking, enthusing about new projects, the team continue their steady descent back down to the ground. They collect their stuff, haul their packs onto their backs, and descend towards the little church. They stop right there in front of it. Turning back, they look up at Sas dla Crusc and its face once again. As if synchronized, their gazes follow the same line at the same time. Eyes scrunched up to pick out the details, they wonder about the quality of the yellow and black rock. “Well” says Simon “Do you have any plans for the day after tomorrow?” Andrea sniggers. They know each other well, they’ve been climbing together for years. When you climb with someone, you share their feelings, dreams and fears often in confined spaces. You learn pretty quickly who they are. Andrea was expecting the question.
“No, I don’t think I’ve got anything on. Mind out though, your wife might get jealous.” Simon laughs loudly, slapping his climbing partner on the back, and continues to walk downhill. Remember that feeling of waiting for something really special? Not just the weekend, something really special. That mix of enthusiasm and expectation, like waiting to open your Christmas presents when you were a kid. Time starts to move differently, it goes by more slowly. That’s what it feels like for Simon and Andrea during the two days before they return. Full of anticipation, they meet up again, below Sas dla Crusc once more. A new route, right through the middle of that face, that would be a real gift. During the approach, they remain silent, one step after another, but devour the rock with their eyes. As dawn breaks, the sun rises as they tie in. By dusk they have finished, having spent the day exploring that sea of rock, looking for pockets and cracks to place pegs, cams or at least a nut. Simon sometimes talks about how we have to go back, to move forward. For him “alpinism” means the alpinism of our fathers, a much more complicated and detailed concept than “simply using trad gear”. People have always gone in search of places where you feel the sublime. Simon feels that it’s about more than just the place. Climbing mountains, leaving as few traces as possible, tying in with a partner you respect, someone who understands you, without even talking, your eyes always open for the next adventure. Three more days and a bivvy on the wall to open up this new line. Route-finding intuition, perseverance on difficult sections, coolness and composure to accept precarious or distant protection. Simon and Andrea are not characters in a book. They are real people, with loved ones back home. They are not heroes. More than once, they question if it’s worth going on. But continue to tell themselves, yes. A year passes after opening the route. There are other projects, winter climbing, expeditions to other parts of the world. A whole year, before the moment comes to attempt to its free ascent.
There are so many things to say. One could write about landscapes, or the tension that pushes us to look for the sublime, or how a roped party is more than the sum of two people and a rope. There are other things that are harder to communicate. The atmosphere during the first free ascent of a route is one of them. How do you describe the silent concentration as Simon and Andrea pull on their harnesses and tie in before setting off? Or the way they support and encourage each other at the crux moves? The quick glance back at a distant piece of protection, before calmly moving on. The quickening heartbeat when a foot slips, before finding a better foothold. The way these two men smile, especially with their eyes. Its evening at the end of July, Simon and Andrea walk back down from Sas dla Crusc for the last time. There’s no joking, no teasing, they don’t speak. Not because they are tired. Not because it was a long route. Not because the crux was 10-. They both know there is no other route like this in the Dolomites . They silently enjoy the gift of having found it, opened it and climbed it. Just as they did one year ago, Simon and Andrea stop at the little church, turning around to admire that face once again. On the meadow, there are three old sculptures carved from pine: Christ and the two thieves gasping on their crosses, nailed down, suggesting another road to reach the sublime. The route that Simon and Andrea climbed, their route towards the sublime, is right there, right behind the crucifixes. That is exactly why it is called Stigmata.
If you’ve never been, you’ll be amazed by the meadows that are so green, the farmhouses that are so well looked after, and the row of spruce trees that seem to hide the transition from meadow into dolomite rock. At Pedraces, for example, look north, towards Brunico. You’ll see the Odle (Puez-Geisler) group to your left and Sas dla Crusc (Heiligkreuzkofel) to the right. At sunrise, watch the light filter in from the east, first stroking the summits of Sas Rigais and Furchetta, then the other peaks of these incredible mountains. At sunset, a time of day to enjoy the silence and the view before curling up around a warm stove, turn around towards Sas dla Crusc. See how it blushes, as the shadow of the Odle gently brushes it.
Se non ci sei mai stato, rimarrai sbalordito da prati verdissimi, fattorie curate, file di pecci che paiono nascondere il passaggio dal prato alla roccia dolomitica.
A Pedraces, per esempio, guarda a nord, verso Brunico. Vedrai il gruppo dell'Odle (Puez-Geisler) alla tua sinistra e il Sas dla Crusc (Heiligkreuzkofel, o Sasso di Santa Croce) a destra. All'alba, guarda la luce filtrare da est mentre accarezza dapprima le vette del Sass Rigais e la Furchetta e poi gli altri picchi di queste incredibili montagne. Al tramonto, quella parte del giorno in cui assaporare il silenzio e il panorama prima di rannicchiarti attorno alla stufa rovente, voltati verso il Sas dla Crusc. Guardalo arrossire, mentre l'ombra dell'Odle lo sfiora delicatamente.