Anno dazumal Part 6 | Snowshoeing in the Oetztal Alps - Part 2

Snowshoeing in the Ötztal Alps

By Dr. Franz Tursky

Weißseespitze, 3534 m, Hochvernaglwand, 3433 m
As soon as we had our snowshoes on our feet, we set off, descending the low altitude to the Kesselwandjoch; there we all gathered again to then climb over the uppermost firn basin of the Gepatschferner to the summit of the Weißseespitze. Slowly, one behind the other, we ascended, and even though we could often barely see the person in front of us in this billowing sea of fog, our gaze immediately wandered into endless distances. How we all rejoiced, having always wandered around in the fog without even being able to see the neighboring peaks!
Well rested as we were, with only a small pack on our backs, we advanced quickly. We made careful use of every crease in the glacier floor to gain height as effortlessly as possible and at the same time to define a nice line of descent. As we ascended, we were already looking forward to the uninhibited shot that would take us from the summit back to the Kesselwandjoch in just a few minutes.

Once again, we were shrouded in a flimsy cloud of mist that surrounded us and, whipped by an icy north wind, enviously hid the summit of the Weißseespitze from our view. And when we stood on its summit soon afterwards, we took a short, rather uncomfortable break, hoping that we would succeed in catching a moment that would allow us a distant view from our vantage point. But we waited in vain. We didn't have too much time, as we didn't want to be satisfied with this one summit. So we soon decided to set off. We had to glide along in the fog for a short distance, then we had the sunlit firn surfaces in front of us again, over which our ascent track stretched. It only took a few minutes to reach the flat glacier floor not far from the Kesselwandjoch, but it will always remain unforgettable as long as a drop of blood still runs through my veins. It was a disembodied glide into the blue distance, a merry race with the wind. We felt like birds, circling through the air with outstretched wings, and we chased along as if carried by invisible forces. Our snowshoe tips cut through the hissing snow until we lost more and more speed and finally came to a standstill of our own accord.
We had reached the level firn not far from the Kesselwandjoch, from where we now climbed the Hochvernaglwand. The view back from this ascent to the Weißseespitze we had just visited was magnificent! Just now, while we had turned our backs on it, the envious fog had receded from it, now it shone over to us in sun-drenched light, as if in defiance of us foreign intruders. But we still enjoyed the clarity of the sun and could hardly get enough of all the rare images that presented themselves to us as we climbed the Hochvernaglwand. We therefore spent a lot of time taking photos so that we could capture at least as much of this high-altitude atmosphere as possible.

We were able to reach the summit again on our skis, even if the last part was quite hard and blown away. The panoramic view that presented itself to us was upliftingly beautiful and even then gave us an idea of a whole range of pleasures that we would experience a few days later. However, we didn't stay too long, as an icy cold wind - the guarantee of consistently good weather - made resting on the summit quite uncomfortable. We swept down the glacier, which we had come down slowly, at an incredible speed. Occasionally on this trip we paid a little visit to the pinnacle, which is little more than a rocky head rising out of the eternal ice, and then chased down to the Kesselwandjoch in a whirring glide, which we reached shortly before nightfall. Then it was back to the Brandenburger Haus, where we spent the night once again.

Drunk on beauty, we stood on the summit, whose visit was to mark the end of our Ötztal trip, and after a rest of almost an hour, we finally prepared to say goodbye, not without melancholy. No matter how much we were called down to the valley, no matter how many beautiful hours we were granted down there, we all knew it for sure: we could not hope for a more glowing life, a more blissful enjoyment down there than here. Because "only then do I really enjoy my life, when I get it anew every day'-----
Barely half an hour after leaving the summit we had reached our snowshoes, which we had left behind. On them we went down the Taschachferner at breakneck speed until we stopped in front of an extensive glacier break, which we used to cross. We filed our way down in three sections and slowly and carefully descended the steep firn snow, constricted on the right and left by huge crevasses. As soon as we had escaped the maze of crevasses, we re-fastened our ropes and carelessly raced down the now gently sloping, crevasse-free firn, the snow spraying up from under the gliding rails. But soon the rapid descent lost more and more of its speed; we had reached the flat glacier floor, which runs under the Mittelbergjoch and then leads up to it in a gentle slope. The midday sun was blazing down on us and made the weight of our backpacks feel quite uncomfortable again. But the thought that on the other side of the yoke the great ride had to start all over again, the awareness that we would be rewarded for this ascent with another exultant ride, gave us courage and strength. After barely an hour's ascent, we had reached the yoke - the Mittelbergferner lay before us. Like a white gown, it stretched down before our eyes in wide folds, with no crevasses visible anywhere. How this vast, moderately sloping surface gave our boards life and movement again! We glided down in uninhibited protection; each of us looked for his own way, where he hoped to find the best snow, the fastest ride. One wanted to outdo the other in speed and so we all whirled around in a mad dash. If one of us managed to get ahead of all the others thanks to his special "speed", another one would immediately whizz past him, who would soon be overtaken by a third. So we swept down the Ferner in exuberant merriment and only stood still when we were no longer allowed to give up any height so as not to have to climb back up to the Braunschweiger Hütte. We set off in single file and reached it at 2 o'clock in the afternoon.

Here we allowed ourselves a long rest, made tea, ate almost all the food we still had with us and took as many photos as possible. Then we went on again and climbed up to the Pitztalerjöchl, which we reached after an hour's walk. The Rettenbachferner lay ahead of us, already the fourth glacier we had climbed today and over which we were now to descend into the valley of the same name in order to follow it to Sölden. Once again, we were looking forward to this speedy ride, during which we overcame a difference in altitude of almost 2000 m in not much more than an hour. On the northern edge of the Ferners, we raced downwards, deeper and deeper towards the valley. No stone, no tree disturbed our rapid flight, I almost thought I was being carried by higher forces - the feeling of gliding takes a back seat on such a descent. The end of the Ferners has already been reached, a steep step marks its tongue all around, but nonetheless the route continues at breakneck speed out of the valley. With my snowshoes tightly fastened together, I descended with breathtaking speed without looking after my companions, as we had already left all danger behind us when we left the glacier region. A few trees, which we wouldn't see again for a full eight days, all heavy with the glistening snow that winter had heaped on them for months, flitted past me in a blur. We passed a few alpine huts that were dreaming of the approaching spring under their snowy winter coats, and soon afterwards we had already reached the tree line. By then, however, the snow was nowhere near as deep or as good as it had been at higher altitudes, and the descent was often quite bumpy along the forest path that ran alongside the stream. From a large meadow across which it led, we could already see the little church of Sölden and a little later we unbuckled our snowshoes at the first houses in the village and walked into the village.

All the plans with which we had set out for these mountains a few days ago had come to fruition, we had completed the crossing of the Weißkamm in the Ötztal Alps just as we had intended.
The life of privation in the huts was now followed by a fun evening in the excellent inn "Zum Alpenverein". After a sumptuous evening meal with fresh beer, which we had longed for for days, when we still had to drink boiled meltwater in the huts, made into tea, we went to rest and stretched out in the cozy beds full of comfort for a long sleep. With deep contentment, a new zest for life and a proud feeling of strength, we all gladly returned home to the eternal monotony of everyday life. The rich wealth of wonderful impressions and memories helped us to return to the narrow sphere of activity of our unadventurous profession from our free raptures through unlimited distances and sunny heights.