SHIVA'S LINE

THOMAS HUBER

SHIVLING, SHIVAS LINGAM, the symbol of divinity 'Lord Shiva', god of destruction and renewal - and I am right in there. The facts in front of my eyes: If I keep on climbing, I won't be able to calculate the risk anymore. I am standing on a tiny ledge within the pitch of the overhanging wall, Iwan, who is belaying and frozen is 10 metres below. I am however, dripping with sweat. Above myself is a brittle area, a fragile network consisting of meter sized flakes which are loosely wedged into the wall. Even compact looking parts of the wall echo like a bell when hit with a hammer. My common sense is paralysed by fear. I cannot make a decision. A bit further above, an overhanging crack disappears in the mist. Damn, only 20 more metres, and we would have made it, but during those 20 metres no anchor would be good enough to secure a fall. Should I risk to climb this overhanging pile of rubble despite that? And if at some stage the rock starts to trickle down on me ... will I be able to get back? Or will I be brought down with a giant flake which will crash onto Iwan like a guillotine before that? Even if we survived, we are still within a mountain region, at more than 6000 metres, where nobody would be able to help us. I am fighting against myself, I have the will to try it, but the frightening vision of failure stops me from attempting the deciding step.

In the meantime, it has started to snow, everything is shit, this mountain, this route, this unbearable situation. I can't bear it any longer ...

Iwan agrees with my decision, because he fancies to lead this pitch even less than myself. Apart from that he is completely frozen. So then, head back.. once more I am searching the route above us.. ..we are here because of this wall, we have started this expedition because of it, we have carried the heavy rucksacks through the couloir, waited at base camp for the bad weather to clear and now I am frightened to death. .because of these few, silly metres..

Shivling is, with its 6543 metres, not an extremely high, but one of the most beautiful mountains in the Himalaya. Light and shade separate the northern wall into an eastern and western half, and outline a dream route. In part, this magic, central route has been ascended for the first time by the Tyrolean -Team Kammerlander / Heinz. However, from the middle of the wall, they orientated to the right and climbed to the summit via the Japanese route. The 'cream top', the overhanging wall, remained untouched. During the last few years it has been the aim of many expeditions to straighten the right turn of this outstanding line, and not without a reason, because the direct northern pillar surely is one of the big challenges in the Himalayas. It was also my dream to climb this route at the Shivling at some stage, but I didn't yet know when.

Only three months before the start of the expedition, my brother and I decided to risk this project. For a long time I wasn't sure whether I could even build up the right attitude to an expedition of this category. Only when we were leaving the air-conditioned arrivals terminal in Delhi, reality hits us. More than 40°, 80 % humidity. That's India, now we are here, because we wanted to be. Difficult times are awaiting us during the next few weeks: carrying heavy rucksacks, cold nights in the bivouac on the mountain, continuous melting of snow in order to satisfy the need for water, mastering dangerous passages, and the hidden risks which are lurking everywhere on this mountain. But despite all those rather off-putting imaginations, our motivation is increasing and now I know why I am here.

Before we may sample the challenges of India's most beautiful mountain personally, we get to know a country which is new to us: India, which is shaped by Hinduism. The journey into the mountain region of the Himalaya leads us along the holiest Hindu river, the Ganges, also called Mother Ganga, India's pulsating vein. The water of the Ganges is known for its extraordinary cleansing properties, only one sip and the whole inside of the body 'cleanses'. If you think of the rubbish, sewage and burnt remains of dead bodies which are disposed of in the Ganges, the cleansing properties are, from a medical point of view, no secret.

After two days of a wild bus journey, we reach the first chain of mountains of the Garhwal himal, the country of the holy mountains, rivers and lakes. Since thousands of years, this countryside has been routed deeply in the religion and mythology of Hindu people. They are the residence of the gods and here are the river sources of the Ganges, the origin of all life.

At an altitude of 3000 metres, lies Gangotri, the start-off point of our two-day trek to base camp. This place is located at the biggest source river of the Ganges, the Bhagirathi. Thousands of pilgrims are travelling to this place in order to pray to the holy mother Ganga and to bathe in the ice cold, rapid Bhagirathi which will wash their sins away. 19 kilometres further down the valley, brown, muddy water is running from the Gangotri glacier. The source forms a huge gate to the glacier, the Gaumukh, translated the 'cow's mouth'. Days later, three pilgrims are killed by falling ice pieces during their ceremonial wash. But according to many Hindus, the people killed were lucky, as at this place one already has got one foot in nirvana. In unity with nature and facing the holy mountains, a few Babas, which are Sadhus and Swamis, the holy men who, during the summer, live in simple houses or primitive caves, and are dedicated to meditation and the study of holy scripts, are living high up the Garhwal himal. They are trying to free themselves from superficial, shallow values and completely give up all luxuries. The aim of their ascetic life is to find closeness to god via a new mental dimension and to break through the circle of rebirth.

Panda, who is 25 years old, a Sadhu and a follower of Shiva is living hidden behind a moraine, at 4400 metres at the foot of Shivling. After year long studies with a well-known Guru, he is living at this holy place at 4500 metres, during the summer as well as winter. At this altitude and at the foot of Shivling mountain he is a little closer to god, and through meditation and special exercises, he can survive the long winter with little food and clothing. One of his main exercises is a 5 year long vow to be silent, so that communication from his side is carried out with pen and paper. He has already managed two years. 'Silent Baba' gives a content impression. He has chosen to live for, and with god.

Our base camp, Tapovan, is located half an hour further, at the same altitude, directly at the spurs of Shivling.

The weather could not be better, and already the next day, we carry two heavy rucksacks towards start-off point. The sooner, the better, the sooner I will be back at home with my family. But this initial optimism is slowed down one day later by 15 centimetres of fresh snow. So once again, waiting for better times. We know this nerve wrecking 'time killing' exercise from our expedition to Ogre in Pakistan last year. The day is filled by eating, reading, playing cards and eating again. Luckily, after two days of bad weather, a Swiss and a French expedition arrive, who also want to climb Shivling and it makes a change. For three more days we are tied to base camp by the miserable weather, until at last the sun chases the last few dark clouds away. The Swiss expedition is getting ready to climb Bhagirathi 2 in order to acclimatise, and the French are preparing their first transportation of gear to the normal route of the Shivling.

We want to establish a camp at approx. 6000 metres at the 'Kammerlander / Heinz' post in order to create a better starting point for the climb all the way through.

Still before sun rise, and loaded with heavy rucksacks, we climb through the couloir and find a good camp site which is sheltered from rock fall, at the right hand edge of the snow channel, only 200 metres below our entry into the pillar of rock.

Once again, we have to become martyrs to climb up the couloir for 400 metres with 50 degrees incline and 30 kg on our back, until all of the material, tents, cooker, sleeping bags, ropes and climbing gear are deposited at our camp site. This is every day life with expedition climbing. When you are not waiting for good weather at base camp, you often walk around with heavy rucksacks and force yourself up hill, metre by metre. Ten steps in one go, swearing while hyperventilating and asking the question of questions, 'why?', as always, not finding an answer, and then, during the following step, trying to manage another ten steps in one go. All of this is repeated several times.

On completion of our daily task, we crawl into our tent which is far too small and start to melt snow for hours. Nobody wants to talk and we stare into the air, only the constant sizzle of the gas cooker breaks the silence, a noise which even haunts me in my dreams. And the condensation which is dripping from the walls of the tent, intensifies this special adventurous romanticism.

At some stage, I force down, the normally so delicious, 'Simpert- Reiter' (dehydrated food) meal which has been soaked with hot water, without an appetite, and then start the well deserved rest.

By dawn, we have reached the start-off point at the pillar. Because of the snowfall during the last few days, everything seems very wintry, everywhere, the slabs and dihedrals are still covered with fresh snow. Looks quite cold, dangerous and difficult. Alexander immediately volunteers to lead during the first pitch. Alongside old, torn remains of rope from previous expeditions, Alexander fights his way higher up across the snow covered slabs, he wedges the ends of his ice pick into fine cracks, climbs up a crack which is filled with snow and scrapes millimetre wide ledges with his crampons, a mixture of modern dry tooling, free climbing and classic mixed climbing. On the same day, we manage four additional pitches which are not very different in terms of difficulty and character, and climb up to an altitude of 5700 metres. After that we abseil into the couloir and shortly after that reach the camp. Tomorrow, we want to reach our envisaged campsite at an altitude between 5900 and 6000 metres. A challenging goal, but we could make it.Instead of climbing, we are sitting at base camp with good coffee and pancakes at seven o'clock in the morning, while the last snow clouds disappear. We have to get used to those weather changes.

Early evening, the Swiss successfully return from Bhagirathi II. Two of them, Iwan and Bruno, are targeting to repeat the Japanese route at the northern wall, after acclimatising without problem.

Their planned ascent also starts inside the couloir and carries on via our route between 6000 and 6200 metres, before they take a right turn shortly below the top of the wall across a striking system of platforms.

We appreciate their decision, because if anyone needed any help, we could assist each other. But the weather is too changeable for climbing all the way in one go, and the altimeter does not increase hope for improvement.

Despite the bad prognosis, we want to climb to the 'turret' between 5900 and 6000 metres as a day trip and set up the camp.

Today, four of us are climbing into the couloir. Iwan and Bruno want to deposit their rucksacks at our camp at 5400 metres ready for the ascent in one go, and then descend to base camp. But the only one descending to base camp this morning is myself. My 'engine', my body did not want to start, and I forced myself until I had to throw up. Now I am lying on my insulation mat, completely exhausted, with an empty stomach and fever and am following he actions at the pillar with the binoculars.

In the afternoon, all three are forced down from the wall by a thunder storm, but before that Alexander manages to climb 5 additional pitches and secure everything at approx. 5900 metres. With this starting point, it would be possible to reach the summit within three days.

The next day, I feel a bit better and the continuously unstable weather allows enough time to recover completely from this bad stomach.

The French group calls off their expedition during those days.

Air pressure has risen by 30 metres. A good sign, we can start tomorrow.

The Swiss are waving good-bye in the light of the miners lamp, while we are still packing our tents into rucksacks at 5400 metres. Not much later, we are hanging in the fixed ropes, with a heavy load, and are working our way up pitch by pitch. At the end of the fixed rope pitch, we have to climb a more easy pitch up to the ledge where we want to set up our camp. Today Alexander feels weak, he fights to his limit. Under these conditions, it is most likely that we do not have a chance to reach the summit.

Bad weather clouds are coming along from the west. This makes our decision easier. We quickly deposit our whole climbing and bivouac gear behind a block of rock and start to abseil.

Kammerlander Heinz

Kammerlander Heinz

Bruno and Iwan carry on. On the same day, they reach the 'bend', where the 'Kammerlander / Heinz' and Japanese routes meet.

The next day, early morning, the weather is good again. I am disappointed and worried that we have missed our chance. But it was only a theoretical chance, because Alexander would not have had the strength. The Shivling cannot be conquered with 38 degrees fever and infected tonsils, as diagnosed by the French expedition doctor.

The chances for recovery from ill health are small and therefore the success of our expedition is more and more unlikely.

Via radio, we hear from the Swiss that a storm with more than 100 km/ h is blowing round the crest and ties them to their camp.

Now we can see the kilometre-long snow clouds which are blown from the Shivling and surrounding summits, and are happy, with yesterday's retreat, and to have made the right decision with regard to the weather as well.

At least I am telling myself that we do not miss out on anything up the mountain today, and am hoping for a little miracle.

Iwan and Bruno are stuck. Since two days the storm is blowing with biting frost, although there are hardly any clouds in the sky. It is absurd, the weather is stable and sunny during their attempt, but still they are nearly blown off the mountain by this storm.

Alexander's state of health has improved during the last few days and he thinks to have recovered from the infection.

We are on our way again, want to climb all the way through to the summit, the weather is still perfect and the storm seems to have settled a bit. Iwan and Bruno want to start heading towards the summit today.

At six o'clock, I am at the start of the fixed rope pitch and am waiting for Alexander. One hour later he also reaches the belay station, without any energy. For him this is the final straw, and at the same time the end of our expedition. Alexander has done his best, but this infection, which is breeding in his body, weakens him too much, he hasn't got a chance. Alexander is disappointed, sad and angry all at once, but we both know that now there is only one decision to make.

Head down, Alexander descends through the sun-flooded couloir, while I climb up the fixed ropes in order to collect our climbing gear and the bivouac stuff.

On arrival at the top, I am talking to the Swiss via the radio, 'Thomas calling Iwan, are you already near the summit, over and out?' 'Iwan calling Thomas, no it is freezing cold, cannot feel part of my toes any longer. We are just below the headwall and it still is very windy up here, we don't have a chance, we are abseiling, Thomas, where are you, ...over and out'-'Thomas calling Iwan, Alexander has descended to base camp, he is ill, I am at our camp at 5950 metres and are collecting the gear, we are calling off the expedition, ...over and out'- 'Iwan calling Thomas, please wait with the descend, we are going to abseil via your pillar and will be with you in three hours, then we'll see,....over and out'- Thomas calling Iwan, ok I'll wait, over and out.' Do they want to,. I don't dare to progress this thought any further. Hours later, they reach the 'turret', tired but happy and they are firmly convinced to support myself during the rest of the expedition - but only after a few days of relaxation at base camp. Alexander is happy that our expedition has the chance to climb the direct northern pillar in one go. He leaves base camp the following day.

We discuss our approach and the formation of the team. The Swiss decide that Irma and Iwan will try to reach the summit via the western crest, and Bruno will climb the direct northern pillar together with me. Shortly after that, Bruno injures his finger and it is nearly impossible for him to support me. After Bruno's small, but weighty injury, the Swiss are changing their team formation. Now, Iwan will try to climb the direct northern pillar with me, Bruno and Irma will climb via the challenging western crest, the normal route.

In the evening of 28th May, we, once again, discuss our tactics on the mountain: start shortly after midnight, and on the same day set up the camp on the lower part of the crest, the so-called 'bend' at 6050 metres. On the second day, climb a pitch of the crest wall, fixing the ropes and on the third day, climb through to the summit....if everything goes well, the weather keeps stable, and our energy reserves last. For us, it is the last possibility to reach the summit, because the carriers will arrive on 4th June. If we are surprised by weather, we are going wait at the top camp, and will only return as a last resort, we both agree with that. Tonight will be a short night. After three hours of dosing, sleeping and crazy dreams, our cook makes me jump out of my sleeping bag with a cheerful 'good morning'. What is it you call morning, it is midnight, pitch black and not a star in sight. The air pressure on the altimeter is not too bad, however. So, let's go. Waiting another day at base camp, would endanger success, purely in terms of time. Two cups of coffee in order to pep up circulation and off we go. We stumble over the field at base camp in the light of the miners lamp, up towards the steep moraine hills which lead up to the entrance of the couloir. 'We'll manage.' Iwan is an optimist. Hopefully, he will be right. Slowly, the body is adjusting to the regular exercise. Breathing in - one step - breathing out - one step-, nothing will change this rhythm during the next 2 hours. With this monotony, everyone is walking on their own, all dialogues are reduced to the most important. .'How are you?' 'Well!'. everyone concentrates on their thoughts and dreams. This walk through the night with the miners lamp, can best be described as 'sleeping while walking'. what would be the happiest moment. calling my family from Gangotri and telling them that we all have returned safe and sound, and then three days later the first embrace at the airport.. . A mountain can never give you such a feeling, this warmth and affection. The mountain is rough and cold. If someone asked me now, right at this moment, while I am getting closer to this adventure with every step, which can even end with death, why I am going up there, then I would not no an answer. To describe my actions is slightly easier. I am always going up hill, automatically, without really thinking about it, as long as I can take responsibility, and, until I cannot climb any higher. Which is the summit, the point which is targeted by my actions. I take feeling of success, the achievement, down with me to safety. A rocky and dangerous way which shall lead me to appiness, I won't risk anything we are approaching the couloir entrance. We climb into the ice channel with crampons attached to our climbing shoes. The flank spreads out up to 50° in front of us, and the dreams of better times give way to a constant state of alert. At 5 o'clock, we have reached the entrance to the pillar, the start of our fixed ropes, we are doing well in terms of time and also the weather seems to turn better.

"Maybe you are right with your 'we'll manage' ", Iwan. His cunning smile tells me everything, I attach my ascenders to the static rope and we climb the first 300 metres of the pillar along the fixed ropes.

At 9 o'clock, we reach the small ledge at 5950 metres and sort our material: one tent, two sleeping bags, one cooker, gas and supplies for three days, friends, nuts, hammer, 5 bolts, and just in case, if everything fails, lots of pitons and special gear for the smallest cracks.

In the meantime, the weather has turned out perfect, blue sky above us and no sign of a storm.

Under these circumstances, we have a good chance to erect our camp 100 metres further up, at the 'bend', the end of the 'Kammerlander / Heinz' pillar.

We want to climb up to the planned campsite with little weight, and haul the whole bivouac material in the afternoon. Iwan leaves the lead to me. After a short pitch, the pillar steepens vertically. A short patch of slabs which is difficult to secure, requires all of my climbing skills, and I need several attempts until I can go further up. A fall would not be a very good idea here. After 4 metres, a solid friend calms my nerves and the way up seems to become easier.

The compact granite pillar bends backwards a bit and we manage to progress quickly.

At one o'clock, we reach the exposed campsite. A crazy site, just big enough for our tent.

Four hours later, we are sitting at the top camp, tired from carrying and worn out. Melting of snow, eating, drinking, everything happens with the usual routine. The same applies to the weather, hours ago, it has been sunny and warm, but now a freezing wind is blowing, it is snowing and our tent is swallowed by dark clouds. When it also starts to thunder, our adrenaline level rises. Thunder in the mountains, in our exposed camp! We are trapped in a small cage and can only hope and wait. The next day, no traces of yesterdays thunderstorm, the weather has completely normalised again. We wait until the rays of the sun reach the camp, then Iwan climbs the first pitch of the combined crest of the Japanese route.

Unfortunately, today the sun does not have the warming strength of yesterday and a cold, cutting wind is blowing round the crest. Below the headwall, in the summit region, the wind is whipping snow clouds into the blue sky again. Iwan hates this weather, he knows it very well. We carry on climbing. Iwan reaches the belay station below the overhanging summit wall. The old, rotten fixed ropes of the Japanese route are running over to the right. In front of us is unknown territory, the unknown and adventure, the system of cracks of the Magic Line. I sort the material attached to my harness and climb into the crack which is overhanging the belay station and leading away from it.. ....'Iwan, just hold on a second'.. I cannot just give up like that, without having tried. It would always be on my mind. I have to put an end to this story, even if after 10 metres I find out that it is not possible for me. 'so, Iwan, I will try, watch out and duck in case anything falls down'.

From now on, there must not be any more doubts, I can, and I want to live this adventure here and now.

I am careful, I check every metre, knock with the hammer, question every fixed anchor, and gradually gain altitude.

But none of the anchors would withstand a fall, because all of them are placed behind relatively loose flakes. I traverse three metres to the left, on a 2 centimetre thick granite flake which is sticking out of the wall by 10 centimetres, with the help of cliff-hangers, and hope to find more compact rock along a fine crack to the left.

My movements are slow, I am very careful with everything I do. I persuade myself of safety, safety which no longer exists. I have crossed the deadline; everything is in my hands now. 'At this moment, only trust in your actions and not a 'friend' which might save your life when you fall.' The quality of the rock does not improve; it is the same rubbish over here as on the right, it is sickening. I fumble and extract two little stones from the crack which, to begin with, was finger width, and carefully wedge in a baby camelot. It should hold, I should say has got to hold. Slowly I shift my body weight to the camelot and observe the piece of equipment for the smallest movement, always ready to react, to step back to the cliff-hanger underneath myself. It does not even move a millimetre.

The piece of gear seems to maybe even withstand a small fall, although the rock still sounds terribly hollow. 'Only trust your actions', the risk of security on an allegedly good camelot is too high. Only two more metres, and the unstable rock area could lie behind me. I put my total energy and concentration into the last metres and hammer a long cutting piton into the rotten rock and slowly shift my body weight. It holds. shit it does not. the piton slips out two centimetres and wedges again, I nearly.. .fall, I feel sick, Iwan, watch out, the piton does not hold, I need to go back'. Now, remain cool, otherwise I do not have another choice. Once again, I hammer the piton completely into the rock and try to slowly shift the weight to the suspicious belay again, deep breath, avoid all sudden movements, wedge in another cutting bolt a metre above myself, hammer it in with careful hits, another metre, deep breath.

A profile piton penetrates the compact crack with a singing noise, it is my hymn of victory, we have made it. Ten minutes later I reach the belay station. Left behind, is a 40 metre long psycho thriller which I have never experienced before. Tension slowly subsides and I recognise my surroundings again. I am at the Shivling, we are at 6250 metres and are climbing our route, it is snowing and it is cold. Iwan follows with the ascenders, and climbs the first 25 metres of the next pitch as well. After that, we abseil in a snowstorm, back to our camp. The wind changes to hurricane force and we are starting to have doubts.

31 May 2000, we are both sceptical whether this day will lead to success. Again and again, we are swallowed by thick cloud, it is snowing in between, and an uncomfortably cold wind is blowing. But despite that, we are on our way. We have been hanging in the overhanging headwall for hours and are fighting our way up pitch by pitch. It is possibly our last opportunity to reach the summit, and we want to make use of that, despite the hostile weather conditions. After the second pitch, I lost the complete hand drill set, our only life-line, should a passage of compact granite stop us from progressing further. But today I am lucky. At the last minute, I again and again, find a way to place a piton, to wedge a birdbeak into the smallest thin cracks or place a cliff-hanger behind a flake.

It is 4 o'clock in the afternoon and we only have to conquer 25 metres of overhanging rock, then we should reach the icy area of the summit. So we are still in the race. The roof-like top of this 200 metre wall, the overhang over the flat, ice covered area will be another challenge. I put all my hopes into one camelot, whose segments have more contact with the ice than the rock.

Another one of many suspicious belays, where luck is by my side again., Iwan, we have managed it!' Once more, I enjoy the view below and the exposure of this steep wall.

Then I place two pitons at the bottom edge of the icy area and attach the rope for Iwan. 10 minutes later he is standing next to me. Without a break, Iwan takes over the lead during the next few pitches through the icy summit area and at the end climbs up the 70° steep icy cornice. 6 o'clock on the dot, we reach the highest point of the Shivling and again, we are completely stuck in mist. The summit, a flat snow covered plateau, completely unspectacular. We shake hands, congratulate each other to the success, and after a short rest, start the descend. There is not enough time for emotions, the feeling of having achieved it, is dampened down by the thought of abseiling during the night via the overhanging summit wall.

Around 11 o'clock at night, completely exhausted, we reach our top camp and crawl into our humid sleeping bags. We are too tired to be aware of today's success, and minutes later we fall into a deep sleep.

The next day, we are woken up by the rising sun, in the blue Garhwal sky. The scratched and swollen fingers remind us of a big adventure. Only now, we realise our achievement, which, yesterday, due to tiredness, we could only take in systematically. We have managed to climb this magic line all the way through to the summit. We call the route 'Shiva's Line'.

Via radio, we learn that Irma and Bruno reached the summit one day before us, under extreme weather conditions. Perfect!

We dismantle our camp and start to abseil. We really deserve the Swiss cheese fondue tonight.

'Shiva's Line' is rated at 7/A4, it is one of the most difficult routes I have ever climbed.

Thomas Huber.. Why? Because I want to. and what remains is a lasting memory of a big adventure.

Iwan Wolf, 28 years old, Engineer, Swiss, Extreme Climber, a good friend..

SUMMERY

An ascent of a new and difficult route on Shivling (6543 m) named by them as 'Shiva's Line'.

 

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