Predigtstuhl and Accident

Published on 2020-7-25 by Michael Stanton

Well. It's been tough to write about this. It's been almost half a year since it happened. I wondered why it's taken this long. I realize it's because I wanted to be "completely better" before I told the story. That would be a more secure place for me. However, I have to accept there may be no such day.

The good news up front. Jong is fine, though losing his glasses was very annoying! He had to get stitches for the cut above his eye, and he had to endure a night of me complaining and occasionally yelling in the hospital, which I wouldn't wish on anyone!

Also, I'm "fine" too. I got a calcaneus fracture in my right foot, and now have 6 or so big screws in there. It looks like a block of wood in beginner shop class under the x-ray. Within a year, I should be able to get those screws removed. It hurts to walk very far, though I did manage to run the other day when I was late for my passport renewel appointment. Stressed out, but pleasantly surprised!

The main takeaway is that we are the architects of our experience. However, we run our lives in a frame of support and occasional rebuke, whether from higher parts of "ourselves" or "some other" it is hard to tell from here. The sense of presence, of consciousness...certainly concerned, but not overly so, is palpable to me. What follows are my impressions, and I know Jong will roll his eyes somewhat at them. He keeps things practical and on the ground, and has my enormous thanks for being a climbing partner, a vigorous debating partner and a true friend!

The Day

We were very excited, because in a week we'd go to climb the Nordgrat of the Piz Badile, and begin the long awaited Alps vacation. As usual, we hiked up at a brutal pace to climb the Predigtstuhl Nordkante, and possibly something else if we had time. We left one pack at the base of the route and started up, passing a couple of parties with simul-climbing. A couple of cool dudes recognized me from my orange helmet and said "hey are you the Mountainwerks guy?" That was fun! We travelled near each other for a while in the really delightful crack pitches where the wall goes vertical. Then Jong and I travelled in coils up to regain the ridge at a notch. I think we were arguing about politics in here. How wonderful it is and how lucky we are to be able to do that!

My favorite place on the Nordkante. My fourth time to climb it.

Two guys on the Nordkante.

Jong climbs to the upper ridge.

Another picture of Jong.

We stuffed ourselves awkwardly into the Oppelband, continuing our discussion. As I inched my way forward, one hand pawing at loose stones and my body trying to fall out, eyes looking at the people walking up the switchbacks far below, I argued that Trumpism is continually misunderstood and mischaracterized by a media class that lectures without any understanding of what their chosen policies do on the ground far away from coastal enclaves. "People think he is supported because of his brash or 'rude' statements, but his support comes in spite of them because no one else articulated 'America First,' which in any other nation would be seen as a dutiful expression of national interest in a time of ballooning debt, instead of a dark and dramatic 'turn towards fascism,'" I hollered around the corner.

Jong talked about the necessity to face sometimes painful realities, such as the demise of coal and the disappearance of earlier modes of life. He grew up in a coal mining region of Germany. His dad was a miner. He knows more about that life than I do, and spoke with integrity about the need for national policies that don't only cater to one group, because such promises will ultimately be broken!

Or at least I think that's what he said, but his voice was somewhat muffled because he was speaking into the loose pebbles in front of him as he crawled, plus my belay was around a corner, one pitch below the summit.

Writing this now, later, when I don't know the shape of my life in the mountains going forward...I'm struck by the freedom and joy in such days!

Shortly after our struggle with the Oppelband, right below the summit.

Soon we stood on the summit, happy beings! We started the abseils down the Botzong Kamin, and I already began arguing to continue the day. Jong was rather tired. I argued that we should do one more short climb on the basis that the extra training would benefit us next week on the Piz Badile. Jong agreed. My gosh, if I had been less of a martinet and listened to my friend!

We got to the little basin below the abseils, and crabbed our way over to the side to inspect the "Westschlucht" route. "Well, I guess this is it," I said. It looked a bit loose and dubious. At least, the initial wall was steep but there were plenty of loose rocks around too. We decided to leave our other pack here, as it should be a trip up and down of just a couple hours.

The first pitch was quite exciting. Some tough moves, but also, alarmingly, stacked blocks of loose rock. In one case I placed a cam in a crack just to keep the rope away from one such block-stack for when Jong came up below it. My belay was improvised and awkward, atop a set of stalagtites below a yellowish face.

Jong came up carefully, knocking off one block-stack near the crux, and successfully avoiding the upper one. Hmm. Well, okay, it should get easier.

The next pitch was more straightforward. Go up easy ground to a belay on the buttress. This intersects with another (steep!) route. I think I had a piton and a cam for the belay. From here, the job was to go around the corner and get into a wide gully that leads to the summit. I think the route is named for this feature. Jong sent me off, and I traversed grade III terrain down then up and down again. This would be terrible for rope drag! Finally I was in the gully with tons of rope drag. I would have to belay no matter what. There was an enormous (Smart-car sized) block wedged into a constriction with a rope around it. Standing in a little niche below it, I saw it was an obvious belay spot. I craned my neck to look above, thinking that a belay might be found in a niche directly above this block. But that would require about 4 more meters of climbing and I just didn't have enough rope. I tested the fixed rope around the block with full weight, and decided to trust it for an anchor. I reasoned that I was also in a niche that could offer body-belay opportunities if Jong were to pull on the rope through a fall.

The tricky first pitch of the "Westschlucht."

Jong coming up the second pitch.

About 30 minutes before the accident. Jong is saying "FU" to the whole thing of "let's climb another route!"

It took a long time for Jong to come around the corner, and I was always laboriously pulling in rope. It turned out that his experience was that of seeing the rope lying there in piles along the traverse. He finally took up the slack and tied in short. Rope-drag pitches are no fun in this way. It's like, everybody works hard and no one is safe!

Jong came up and we sorted out the rope. There was one real pitch to the summit, with a bit of grade IV, and rather long. I started up, climbing directly up the wedged block because piles of loose rock were on either side.

Something was wrong though. Why was I falling?

The block was tipping! Making a horrible crunching sound the block tipped, I fell on Jong, then the ground with a sharp pain in my foot. The air was filled with a rending noise that made it impossible to think. Jong was yelling and I bet I was too. Now sitting in the niche I knew the block had fallen, and mentally braced for the last breathe of life because I knew we were tied to the block and when the slack rope finally paid out Jong and then I would be mercilessly yanked into the depths.

Anticipated violence is felt at a deep level. Below us were 700 meters of chimneys and caverns winnowing into darkness.

I read somewhere that evil spirits are attached to comets, perhaps as a kind of metaphysical prison. Or perhaps it is the last place in a universe where they can maintain some hold. Their essence long ago became one of rejection, of saying no to what is natural and moving away from union. Perhaps, from a gollum-like existence on one planet or another through a series of lives, the strength of the will-to-no is great enough that they are flung from planets into space. Maybe the comet is a place of reconsideration.

Either way, it is the end.

I felt the reality of spiritual death more than a mere physical death. Horrible. Incredibly horrible.

But we were not dragged. No malevolent force harried us. The awful crashing and echoing slowly died away, leaving the cries of observers from the great Steinere Rinne below in its wake. They knew something had happened. They probably heard our cries mixed with the crashing noise.

German has a very good word for this: lärm, pronounced Laerhm, reminding me of "alarm."

Jong lost his glasses when I landed on him, and he had a cut above one eye that meant he just saw blurry red shapes. I was sitting in the niche and holding onto his leg. I was pretty nicely jammed in so if we weren't going to be pulled off I felt pretty safe. Jong was standing and was acutely aware that we must not be connected to the mountain. He shouted down to the voices below that they should call for a rescue. They heard. It was a great hot summer day, and the walls were actually alive with climbers, though too small to see. I marvelled at what a noise and mess and trouble we'd be causing!

It was a good thing though that there is no popular route below us. There was only a more seldom-travelled route climbing up to the previous belay point. I couldn't imagine where that enormous block ended up.

Jong picked up a frayed piece of yellow rope. It was the anchor rope! It had been destroyed when the block cantilevered out of the wall. That was what saved us.

It took a while, but finally I got three cams into cracks around me and we were tied in. The pain in my foot was throbbing. We heard a helicopter and soon they were hovering across from us and checking us out. We made a few hand signals, only wanting to indicate that we did need help but we weren't in a life-threatening situation now. They flew away.

Jong and I conversed in that way that happens after something crazy. Glad to be alive, thankful that neither was hurt too bad. Wondering how all this happened. He said I had a really big butt, as thats what hit him in the face, and this got us laughing heartily.

The helicopter came back and within seconds a man appeared on a long steel cable. He hovered in right next to us and conversed a bit. Once he was sure things were stable, he said to disconnect from the wall (craftly, I took my cams with me: they are expensive, you know!) after connecting a sling to him. Then, suddenly, all three of us were lifted up, out and away from the wall.

It was a dreamlike experience to hover over the Wilder Kaiser. The colors of everything were verdant, deep. The plunging verticality was intense. They flew us to the little lawn at the Stripsenjochhütte, setting us down. Other rescue personal came and unhooked us from the line and started going over me carefully. Then the helicopter landed beside us.

At this point another story begins, where I'm not the main character. I'm just a resevoir of life that main characters work to preserve and protect. The rescuers in the helicopter and the man on the line. The concerned doctor on the ground, setting me at ease with her many questions. Later the police investigator, who managed to round up our gear from the two cache sites on the mountain, allowing us to drive home after a night in the hospital at St. Johann.

Later still, the surgeons at the hospital in Ebersberg.

Throughout all this stuff Jong was a humorous, teasing and happy presence and I can't thank him enough.

As it became clear that recovery would take a long, very long time, Barbara was there always. She cleaned my apartment, got me groceries, gave me her constant love. Broke me out of the hospital to eat cheesecake and drink beer.

I'm absolutely blessed. The accident was my fault, and I am paying for it. But all around me no one wants me to suffer. Everyone wants me to be okay. I can't say thank you enough to all these hands that appear and just want to make my life easier. Take the world of insurance, for example. I can feel the goodness of people who process my application, who make sure I get some money back. I didn't fill out all those forms! I think I should pay to some degree.

Life will change because it must. Thank you.

Images from after

Two weeks in the hospital.

Yeah. No fun to look at and live with.

Playing hooky. Barbara did a great job distracting me!

As happy as it's possible to be in this situation.

Man does not live by bread alone.