There are few accounts of mountaineering as harrowing, poignant and downright tragic as that of Toni Kurz, Anderl ‘Andreas’ Hinterstoisser, Willy Angerer and Edi Rainer. The cruel fate that awaited them as they traversed the north face of the Eiger during July 1936 and the almost unimaginable hardship endured by one of the era’s brightest climbing stars, has cemented this heroic expedition into the highest echelon of climbing folklore. To read about it is to discover what it truly means to endure against all the odds – only for the toughest of spirits to be extinguished when a rescue was almost within reach. It is a heartbreaking yet deeply inspiring tale that needs to be retold.
It is apt that the English translation of Eiger is ‘Ogre’; a cruel and terrifying man-eating giant. For anyone standing at the foot of the north face’s 5,900 feet of vertical rock and ice, being terrified comes with the territory. It’s a gargantuan mass of limestone and black ice that never gets the sun, with the most precipitous of slopes prone to avalanches and rockfalls unsettled by some of the wildest storms Europe has to offer. It’s a profoundly volatile place, where conditions can change in seconds.
Some who have experienced these conditions first-hand speak of the mountain feeling like it’s alive. A dynamic – even malicious – environment where it feels like the mountain is out to get you no matter how well prepared or adept you might be. In Germany it has earned the nickname Mordwand, literally meaning ‘Murder Wall’, while the editor of Alpine Journal referred to it in 1938 as “an obsession for the mentally deranged.” Since the first ascent via the western flank in 1858, the north face of the ogre has claimed at least 64 lives.
But when Kurz and his climbing partners set foot on the Eiger’s north face on the 18th July 1936, there was no element of derangement, only hope for a successful summit. This, despite two gifted climbers – Max Sedlmayer and Karl Mehringer – having frozen to death at the ‘Death Bivouac’ a year earlier while attempting to be the first to conquer the north face. Yet the group’s confidence was burning brightly, fuelled by the exuberance of youth and a rock-solid reassurance stemming from their collective ability, which was outstanding. They were men in their prime, hungry for anything the Eiger was going to serve up, and their place in the history books beckoned.
Kurz and Hinterstoisser were highly regarded mountain guides from Bavaria who had joined up with Austrians Angerer and Rainer during their preparations on the Eiger. Angerer was an immensely capable mountaineer; Rainer, a vastly experienced climber and masterful route-finder. As they began their ascent at astonishing speed, a crowd of spectators and reporters formed in the resort of Kleine Scheidegg below – peering through scopes to get a glimpse of this extraordinary unfolding spectacle.
They covered 1,500 feet on that first morning, before their momentum came to a standstill as they reached a smooth slab of rock that looked different to anything they’d encountered before. It was a new route and a gamble. A gamble that involved following the ice fields at its centre, aiming for a left-hand corner of an immense overhanging rock wall feature known as the Rote Fluh which separated them from the first ice field.
Hinterstoisser was the best rock climber of the group and set about placing pegs for this perilous traverse. Working with the most miniscule of holds and straining every sinew, this remarkable athlete hugged the face and contorted his body at angles few in the world could manage as the others held him, looking on with admiration and trepidation. It was a masterly piece of climbing and he soon reached the other side. The team were euphoric – this opened a door to the rest of the mountain and surely the most difficult obstacle was now behind them. The fact that a fixed rope is now kept in place over this section – known forever afterwards as the Hinterstoisser Traverse – speaks volumes for how incredible a feat it was back in 1936. Back then, he gathered up the rope and on they went, oblivious to the fact he had unwittingly sealed their fate.
As they hit 3,000 feet, a new danger emerged. When the early afternoon sun strikes the edge of the face, rocks in the ice field begin to loosen and tumble down at bone-shattering speeds. The climbers were directly in the firing line. It was soon raining rocks of all shapes and sizes as they clung to the slope with ice axes, doing their best to dodge the projectiles. Then with an awful thud, the inevitable happened. Willy Angerer took a direct hit to the head – no helmets back then, only felt caps.
They were now halfway to the summit of the Eiger with a medical emergency to deal with. As they examined his bloodied head, there was a critical decision to be made: do we turn back, or keep going? They opted to rope themselves to a ledge for the night and reassess in the morning.
That morning brought a renewed sense of hope with Angerer showing slight signs of improvement. With onlookers in the valley below still engrossed in the drama, they made their way to a second vast and exposed ice field. Kurz and Hinterstoisser knew how vital it was to cover this ground quickly while conditions were good, but they had a badly concussed man in tow and progress was faltering. As daylight morphed into dusk, they were still traversing the frozen terrain. They set up camp for the night. By this point the buoyant mood had dissolved. In its place was exasperation and apprehension. With bad weather never far away on the Eiger, it was not somewhere you wanted to spend any longer than needed.
Another dawn brought fresh impetus and drive to get it done while the weather window was open. Hinterstoisser and Kurz surged ahead, hoping their newfound enthusiasm would rub off on the Austrians. It soon became apparent, however, that Angerer had deteriorated overnight. Once again, progress came to a halt with a palpable sense of dismay, and this time it was a game-changer. Their objective now was not summiting, but getting Angerer down to safety. This tortuous retreat was not in their script – they hadn’t planned to come back down the same way. As they descended, storm clouds began to gather in the valley – their luck was running out as the depressing prospect of a third night on the face loomed.
The following day they reached the Hinterstoisser Traverse once again, but this time conditions had worsened. Every surface was now wet as the mountain was wreathed in cloud. Visibility was poor, the wind had picked up and the temperature was plummeting. They couldn’t go up, they couldn’t go down – the traverse was their only hope for safety. But unbeknownst to them, it would be virtually impossible to climb from this side, with no high piton placements in reach to give the necessary tension.
To compound matters, the limestone was now covered in verglas – a treacherous type of black ice that forms a near invisible glaze when moisture-laden clouds meet extremely cold rock, or temperatures around wet rock drop suddenly below freezing. It must have been a gut-wrenching moment as they approached what looked like wet rock, only to discover every square inch was as slippery as it gets. What now?
Hinterstoisser would attempt another virtuoso piece of rock climbing repeatedly for five hours until he could no longer move from exhaustion. It was impossible. As he clung on intensely – spread-eagled against the face – despair had well and truly set in. They were stranded. But with the weather closing in around them, to stay put would mean freezing to death. They had to find another way.
They had little time to think before the storm hit with ferocious intensity. There was now only one option; to get roped up and descend vertically over increasingly steep terrain that would lead them to a 200-foot barrier of overhanging rock. Make it over that and they would get to a chain of ledges that would take them to the safety of a railway tunnel door. But they were descending directly into avalanche and rockfall territory as the wind speeds found another gear. Under any other circumstances it would have been unthinkable to attempt it.
But they had no choice, and so down they went laden with a barely conscious Angerer and energy reserves at rock bottom. Not long into their descent they heard a voice calling to them through what was now a blizzard. It was a railway guard coming to check if they were alright. “All’s well,” they answered, with no hint of the hardship they’d suffered. It was a matter of pride.
Buoyed by the realisation that an escape from the ogre’s trap was within shouting distance, they got to work once again, only a handful of abseils between them and the safety of the railway line. Cups of revitalising tea awaited them on their arrival – the guard had gone to put the kettle on – and their ordeal would be over.
By 2pm Hinterstoisser was unclipping from the rest and set about preparing the final abseil, 200 feet from safety. As yet another peg was hammered in, a huge avalanche hit. Angerer and Kurz were thrown off the ledge. Kurz was left hanging in the abyss while Angerer was killed; either on impact as he smashed against the face, or strangled by the entangled rope. The force of this had ensnared Rainer, pulling him up against a snap-link, slowly squeezing the life out of him as the weight of his fellow climbers below crushed his diaphragm. Hinterstoisser was blasted straight off to his death, some 2,000 feet below.
Kurz was the only survivor. He had been left hanging way out from the rock, caught between the dead and dying. By 3pm the railway guard was back at the door calling up. Now he was only met with the voice of Kurz, panic-stricken. “Help! Help! I’m the only one alive!” Within an hour a rescue party were making their way towards the railway door, despite a recent instruction from the chief mountain guide of Grindelwald that no rescue attempts were to be made in such conditions.
After traversing the system of ledges, they managed to position themselves under Kurz, but still 150 feet away. Kurz knew he couldn’t be rescued from below. They would have to climb up through a crack where they’d left some pitons on their way up, then descend three times on the doubled rope. But with so much ice around, his rescuers thought it unclimbable. They were at an impasse, and with daylight fading fast, an awful decision had to be made. To rescue him from above in the dark would have been suicidal.
“Can you stick it for one more night, pal?” they shouted. “No! No! No!” came the reply. However their minds were made up, and they left to return in the morning, with Kurz’s heartbreaking cries hanging heavy in the air as they climbed back down – cries that would come to haunt them. And for Kurz, can you imagine a more agonising moment as he was left to contemplate another freezing night – alone – on the Eiger, hanging over a void in frigid conditions? They would surely arrive back to find a frozen corpse.
Somehow, he did survive, swinging back and forth in his rope sling while being hit by small rocks and enduring unimaginable cold. Icicles eight inches long were now dangling from his crampons, and he’d lost a glove. And yet, Kurz still had fight left in him. But the Eiger had other ideas, with the north face now coated in even more ice. The crack that Kurz so desperately needed them to climb was impossible. If he had another rope on which to descend to them, he could be saved. Attempts to fire one up with a rocket failed. The only option left was for Kurz to climb down as far as he dare, cut away Angerer’s body and then climb up again to sever the rope above him. He would then have to untwist the frozen strands of additional rope and join them to his existing line.
Holding on with one frozen hand and using his knife as a saw with the other, he cut the rope loose and began the tortuous task of untwisting it. Working with one hand and his teeth it took him five tormenting hours. Yet, his unbelievable feat was to be undone by the cruellest twist of fate.
As he swung the fabricated line to his rescuers and they attached more rope it was clear another length was required, and so they tied on another. Now Kurz began making his way down, beyond exhaustion. Finally, they could see his legs dangling below the overhang – he would make it! And then...the junction knot jammed in the snap-link of Kurz’s sling. The knot was too thick. He couldn’t force it through. The guides below could hear his moans and groans as he fought with the knot – encouraging him through every excruciating minute.
Toni Kurz’s energy was now running on empty. He had given all he had, and more. The guides were pleading with him, “Try lad, try! It’ll go!” He tried one last time with his teeth before shouting clearly, “I’m finished.” His body tilted forward and his sling – now almost within touching distance – swung out. Toni Kurz was gone.
