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Anno dazumal Part 5 | Snowshoeing in the Oetztal Alps

High tour classic 100 years ago

by Bettina Larl • 02/02/2017
Alpenvereins Jahrbuch 1916 - Dr. Otto Böhm
In the fifth part of Anno dazumal from 1916, Franz Tursky reports in two parts about past snowshoe trips in the Ötztal Alps. The article was printed in 1916 in Fraktur font and caused some problems for the Alpenwort project, as the Optical Characzer Recognition (OCR) caused some "fails" during digitization. So if you find errors in the text - you can be happy to be better than the software ;) In any case, we hope you enjoy the well-formulated stories about today's "high tour classics"!

Snowshoeing in the Ötztal Alps

By Dr. Franz Tursky

There is probably no other glacier region in the Alps that offers snowshoers such enjoyable trips and such rewarding destinations as the Ötztal mountains. Flat firn fields often rise up to the highest peaks and the glaciers that flow from them down to the valley are mostly gently sloping and extensive, so that they allow Nordic skiers a carefree and at the same time speedy ride everywhere. That's why the Ötztal high peaks, which in the past never or only rarely had winter visitors, became known early on in the alpine snowshoeing guild and are now popular with all those who love mountain sports and snowshoeing to the same extent.

Easter! This is just the right time to celebrate the end of winter on snowshoes in a worthy manner. And where else but in the high mountains! The days are already long, the weather is usually good and the snow conditions at this time of year are more favorable than in the depths of winter. That's why the disciples of alpine snowshoeing are once again powerfully and irresistibly drawn out into their lofty high mountains at Easter, and there are many of them who celebrate the start of spring every year on a proud three-thousand-metre peak. My descriptions are primarily intended for them, but I also want to tell everyone about my sunny Easter mountain trips in the Ötztal, to whom this type of mountaineering was previously unknown from my own experience, in order to recruit supporters and friends of alpine snowshoe mountaineering in their ranks.

How wonderful was Easter 1914, which I spent in the Ötztal high world in the cheerful company of some like-minded mountain companions! Those days were delightful, so wonderful and enchanting that the memory of them still fills me with blissful feelings today. Gone are the carefree journeys over shining distant shores and with them the high joy of this pleasurable life, but in my innermost being rest imperishable images which were imprinted on my soul at that time and which will always and forever remain unforgettable to me. All that is ugly and beautiful has vanished from my memory, and what has remained as a lasting gain from fleeting pleasures is a deep memory of those journeys, which has often allowed all the noble images to pass before me, as splendid and beautiful as they once were in the swift flight of reality. In wild beauty and with lavish abundance, All Mother Nature rebuilds the shimmering splendor of this high world before my mind's eye, and when I think of you, you proud, sun-drenched peaks, the radiance of past joys, the sun of vanished pleasure, surges through my soul - as full of light and brightness as in those hours when I dwelt on your flashing crests. Yes, a single thought of you is able to awaken in me that fortifying elation that I felt on your light-flooded heights back then, a single image of my memory is enough, and already that enjoyable joy of existence revives in me, which once held me blissfully enthralled in your magic spell. But what use are words of love when it comes to describing a glowing life! My thoughts and feelings can only be understood and empathized with by those who, like me, know how to recount the countless joys they once experienced in the mountains in winter.

Access to the Brandenburger Haus on the Kesselwandjoch, 3277 m

Alpenvereins Jahrbuch 1916 - Dr. Otto Böhm
Alpenvereins Jahrbuch 1916 - Dr. Otto Böhm

With my long-time mountain companion Dr. Otto R. von Böhm and a very young member of our Viennese academic section, we boarded a car in Landeck early in the morning of March 4, 1914, which took us via Pruh to Feuchten to begin the ascent to the Gepatschhaus. We had a small snack in the inn and on this occasion met six Bavarian snowshoe hikers - including three from Munich - who had put a similar crossing of the Ötztal glacier mountains on their wish list as we had. We quickly became acquainted, and by the time we strapped on our snowshoes as we set off, a lively exchange of ideas had already brought us so close that any uninitiated person would have thought we were old good friends. In glorious weather we hiked into the valley under the "oppressive weight" of our backpacks and reached the Gepatschhaus shortly before nightfall, where we stayed for the night. The next day the weather had changed, we had to climb over the Gepatschferner in flimsy clouds of mist and could see nothing of all the scenic beauty that the previous day had given us such a promising glimpse of in the sunshine. Not far from the Rauhenkopfhütte, we wound our way through the maze of crevasses in a glacier crevasse, which required a great deal of care and caution, and were delighted when we felt safe ground beneath our feet again and soon afterwards had even reached the hut itself. We could hardly see more than a rope's length in the fog at that time, and when the diffuse snow light occasionally cleared in the rays of the penetrating sun, these precious moments had to be quickly used for orientation. Once again we climbed up over the vast expanse of the Ferner in order to reach our destination for the day as quickly as possible - according to the map and compass. Several crevasses were crossed; the snow, which until then had been of a moist-salty consistency, became increasingly unfavorable, a sure and reliable sign that we were already approaching the Iochhöhe. The steady increase in the intensity of the storm also confirmed our suspicions. At an altitude of just under 3000 m, which we determined barometrically, we determined the direction to the yoke as precisely as possible and then headed for it without hesitation. The cutting gale on the hard snow stubbornly tried to fight us, but there was no turning back for us. Using all our strength and willpower, we strove up to the yoke, and even if the icy storm raged even more furiously and hurled its glittering ice needles even harder into our faces to defend its storm-tested realm against us foreign intruders - we had enough courage to face it with a firm forehead and to take on the unequal battle it offered us and to stand our ground. Slowly but steadily, we gained height. When the storm raged too violently against us, we stopped to catch our breath and worked our way higher and higher. The slope of the glacier became less and less steep, it leveled out and soon our boards began to slide - we had already crossed the yoke and were on the Kesselwandferner, therefore in the immediate vicinity of the Brandenburger Haus. We once again determined the direction we had to follow and after a few anxious moments, we actually caught sight of the stately house that was to house us for a few days. We climbed up over the hard firn and the rocky cliffs that crowned this hut, shouldering our snowshoes; and even now, when the icy storm had already lost its game against us, even now it was still trying to defend this rock castle against us with all its might and made the few meters that still separated us from the hut door quite uncomfortable. Crawling partly on our hands and knees, we made our way up and all breathed a sigh of relief when we entered the winter room of the house; everything we had on our bodies was frozen solid and completely iced over. We quickly made ourselves comfortable in the hut and soon had a fire going and the cooking pots going. As long as the storm was raging out there, we were tied to this spot and could do nothing better up here than wait patiently for good weather. We had several days to wait, so the weather had to change. That's what we hoped and that's how it actually turned out.

Alpenvereins Jahrbuch 1916 - Dr. Otto Böhm

We sat idle for two days, passing the time as best we could with chatting, singing and all sorts of jokes to keep us in a cheerful mood. Then we indulged in plans for the future again, which didn't fit in at all with the fog raging outside our hut windows, but were nonetheless able to keep us in a good mood. Finally, on Maundy Thursday, after the air pressure had begun to rise slowly but steadily 24 hours earlier, the storm was still raging as it had on the day of our arrival, but the fog had thinned considerably. And lo and behold, in the morning hours it brightened up; we could finally see part of our immediate surroundings from time to time. We quickly got everything ready, cooked and had lunch, then stepped outside the hut door, strapped on our snowshoes and were amazed at the beautiful images that the sun conjured up for us in its relentless battle against the chasing clouds of mist. Here and there a ridge, a peak became visible, but was soon surrounded by mist again. Like a storm surge, the hurrying clouds crashed against rock and firn, shattering and shattering in a delightful play of their own impotent fury. More and more the ice-bound mountains around us emerged from the drifting clouds, more and more the sun with its flaming rays enlivened this silent, lonely high world before our eyes. These were solemn hours that we experienced, a resurrection from night and fog - eagerly awaited by us - took place before our delighted, amazed, admiring eyes.

Weißkugel, 3746 m

As we looked out for the weather the next day - it was Good Friday - all the high peaks around us rose up into a cold, cloudless, clear starry night, just the right weather for our plans. We cooked quickly and left the hut soon after sunrise. How happy we all were when we stepped out into a glistening abundance of light and the most distant peaks glowed before us in a rosy morning glow!

We had soon descended over the upper part of the Kesselwandferner, then we left a large icefall on the left and headed towards the Hintereisferner, which we reached at an altitude of around 2500 m. After a short rest, as the last part of the descent had been steep and strenuous, we climbed up over the long, gently sloping glacier, always keeping our eyes on today's destination, with the highest mountain in the Ötztal Alps, the Wildspitze, behind us. The snowshoe hike over the Hintereisferner to the Hintereisjoch is one of the most beautiful of its kind that I can name from my rich experience. The gentle slope of the glacier rises amidst a mighty world of ice, which amazes and delights every visitor with its defiantly enchanting beauty. A little below the Hintereisjoch, after a few hairpin bends necessitated by the steadily increasing gradient, we left our skis behind, as without them we could more safely negotiate the huge masses of snow that had been deposited here all winter - although it was arduous and not without danger, even if it was only a few pitches. I had left my double poles behind with our snowshoes, as had everyone else who was equipped with ice axes; just below the yoke we had to carve a few steps into the hard firn, which then brought us to the ridge of our mountain, which we now followed. It became narrower with every step. To the left, a dazzling white abyss opened up, blazing in the fire of the sun's rays, to the right a shimmering, sparkling depth filled with rays! How wonderful was this airy firn footbridge, which we had been looking up to longingly for hours! Just before reaching the summit, we climbed up over a slab-like rock tower, up to a sunny resting place on this peaceful height, up to the highest step of an eerie ladder to heaven, which we carved out for ourselves in snow and ice!

It is not without good reason that our summit is described as the noblest elevation of the mighty Ötztal ice mountains. It is as if infinity has been opened up to the human eye all at once - so overwhelming is the impression of this panoramic view. Mountain after mountain is lined up at the viewer's feet and the whole visible world seems to be rolled up before him like a single, large painting. In the far distance, mountains rise up into the blue sky like silver threads and all the countless glaciers at their feet flow like mighty streams down into the valley, towards the young spring below. My feeble pen cannot describe the elemental power of nature that is revealed to the human eye here. If you can, go our way yourself to see and feel for yourself what we saw and felt.

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It was a glorious, cloudless, sunny day and that's why we spent more than an hour on the summit. Every mountain name we called out to each other brought back old memories, as there were so many good friends in the group whose pale rock walls we had once scaled with rope and climbing boots, and so many good friends whose flashing ice ridge our bold daring had once conquered with an ice axe years ago. We were all lost in deep contemplation, remembering joys that had long since vanished, and at that moment we felt a deep sense of gratitude towards the mountains more powerfully than ever.

This rest on the summit triggered delicious, blissful feelings in me, moments that make my life all the more worth living, because they fill my ego with a strange happiness and deepest bliss. Stripped of every burden of existence, I stood there on a heavenly height, surrounded by a breath of the divine in my soul. I felt an intoxicating royal feeling within me and sensed the unearthly, as it were, which ignited my joy of existence like a spark of light into a heavenly fire that still burns brightly within me. I learned to understand all my ardent longing and desire for the mountain world here as rarely before - again I realized why I love the mountain world so much and why I always stand up for it in word and deed, even if there are still many who are uncomprehending of our beginnings, often even condemning our actions.

Then it was time to leave. We packed up and made our way back. We used the same ridge that had led us up the mountain to descend. But we scrambled down the flat rocks and the ice axe came into its own again, as we had to repair almost all the steps we had made on the ascent. No faster than careful use of the rope would allow, we followed the ridge that led us back to the Hintereisjoch. Now we only had a short distance to cover to get to our boards, and a few moments later we were chasing down the steep firn of the glacier at lightning speed. Following our ascent tracks, we first had to take a few hairpin bends in bold turns, then we went straight down - in a furious rush. What a feeling to fly through the air like an arrow, on gliding rails, master of space and time, detached from everything heavy, unpleasant and ugly on earth! In just a few minutes, we effortlessly covered distances that had taken hours of hard work on the ascent, and when I think of this wonderful journey that took us through the wintry high world, my heart still rejoices with joy and delight today. All too soon it came to an end - like everything beautiful and desirable on earth - and out of insurmountable fear of the upcoming arduous ascent to the Kesselwandjoch, we took a never-ending rest on the Hintereisferner, until we finally mustered the necessary self-conquest to tackle the more than two-hour climb. Without grumbling, mindful of the sunny hours that had amply compensated us for all the efforts of the day, we trudged up to our hospitable mountain home, which we only reached at dusk. For a long time, the fading light of day battled with the dawning night, until it shrouded all the splendor of the glimmering Cises glory in its black pall. And when the light had finally given way to darkness, every sound of life that had resounded during the day through the thunder of the avalanches and the bursting of the icefalls in a mighty melody died away with it - the magical realm around us had been transformed into a dark world of silence. Only the moon spread its radiance over it, so that the summit on which we had stopped several hours earlier shone in a mystical glow, as if lost in sweet dreams. And just now a star rose above its crown: silent, large and shining.

Alpenvereins Jahrbuch 1916 - Dr. Otto Böhm

Fluchtkogel, 3514 m

We used the early hours of the following day to sort out the economic affairs in the hut, thoroughly cleaned the winter room we had occupied, the cooking utensils we had used, made our entries in the hut book, cooked a hearty breakfast and didn't set off until around 10am. We were in no hurry, we just had to pay a visit to the nearby Fluchtkogel and then descend to the Vernagthütte, which was to serve as our base for the ascent of the Wildspitze. The Guslarjoch, over which the summer crossing to the aforementioned hut leads, is always heavily overgrown in winter, which is why you have to use a slightly higher single pass towards the Fluchtkogel for the crossing at this time of year. We headed there via the gently rising glacier and left our snowshoes and most of our luggage there to make the steep firn ascent to the summit easier. We made a series of carefully hewn steps to safely negotiate the snow and, a good hour after leaving the Brandenburger Haus, we were already standing on the summit, whose precipice towards the Vernagtferner was adorned with monstrous cornices. With an armed eye and a "panorama" in hand, we sat here in the center of the mighty Ötztal icebergs, of which the Weißkugel and the Wildspitze stood out as the highest elevations, the former now already a joyful experience in my memory, the latter at that time still a hotly felt desire of my insatiable summit longing. For a long time we basked in sweet idleness and gazed out into the crystalline distances that stretched endlessly before our eyes. Then we descended again in the steps that had led us out and, once back in our snowshoes, began the journey over the Vernagtferner to the Vernagthütte. And that was another trip worthy of all the others we had made in the Ötztal mountains, beautiful and enjoyable at the same time. We quickly descended deeper and deeper, and soon we must have reached the height of the hut. A glance at the map was enough to determine where we had to go, the hut could only be hidden behind a wave of firn not far from our position. We headed for this destination and soon had the joyful satisfaction of seeing the hut. We opened the door with the Alpine Club key, then settled down and prepared a hearty meal, lunch and dinner at the same time, which did our famished stomachs a lot of good.

We spent the rest of the day outside the hut door and chatted away the hours in the most pleasant way. Countless old memories, of which we were all rich, were refreshed, and the splendor of the mountain world in summer and winter was praised in enthusiastic words. These were hours that can only be properly appreciated by those who are as devoted to mountaineering as we are. We spoke with equal enthusiasm of icy storms on dizzy ridges and of carefree hours at sunny rest stops, and whatever experiences we recounted from the mountains filled us with quiet enjoyment and blissful happiness. Night fell before we thought about it. We retired to our home away from home and soon went to bed. All available alarm clocks - and almost all of us had one - were set to 4 o'clock.

Alpenvereins Jahrbuch 1916 - Dr. Otto Böhm
Alpenvereins Jahrbuch 1916 - Dr. Otto Böhm

This article has been automatically translated by DeepL with subsequent editing. If you notice any spelling or grammatical errors or if the translation has lost its meaning, please write an e-mail to the editors.

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