July 18th, 2025.
Damn! Why do I keep doing this to myself?
The sound of rumbling rocks was approaching fast — confident and unstoppable. I darted toward the nearest vertical stone wall and pressed myself tightly against it, shielding my head with my hands. The first heavy rocks, propelled by massive kinetic force, crashed to the ground just a meter behind me and tumbled further downhill. Smaller stones, traveling with less momentum, struck my backpack, shoulders, and arms, leaving behind a trail of minor scratches.
Was I scared? I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t. But it wasn’t the rocks themselves that frightened me — I knew a rockfall was possible here and was mentally prepared for it. The fear came from the loss of control in a situation that had caught me off guard. The roar gradually faded into the valley, and a final wave of fine gravel tapped a farewell against my helmet. Relief washed over me. It had passed. Finally, I could breathe freely.
Could someone have climbed this route ahead of me? Unlikely—at least not this one. Or maybe someone had been walking along the ridge? Hmm, I doubted it. It was still early. Had I startled a herd of chamois? Possibly. But the main question was: what next? Should I return?
I was already halfway to the ridge somewhere between the Tiefkarspitze and the Larchetfleckspitzen. I decided to continue, keeping a close eye above and listening intently to the mountain. Stones still fell now and then, but thankfully, they kept their distance.
I had chosen my route deliberately. Solo. That means relying entirely on yourself. It means minimizing risk through planning and awareness, knowing that there's no one to catch you if you slip. There are at least three ways to reach the Tiefkarspitze (DL/KW-014), 2430m. I opted for my own, slightly unconventional path: approaching the ridge from the north, starting at the Merk-Kronwitter-Hütte, ascending the north face, and then traversing the airy ridge to the summit.
The ridge walk turned out to be a delight — as always — offering joy without major technical challenges. Probably grade II or II+ at some key spots. With a bit of improvisation, one could ramp up the difficulty to grade III+ e.g. by climbing around the notorious “yellow crack” — a spot I’m sure many climbers have hesitated before. One challenge was the rock itself: often brittle, breaking off in your hands or crumbling beneath your feet with a thunderous crash. One mistake, and you'd be following those stones down. Having learned from past experience, I checked every hold and every step carefully — twice, sometimes three times. Another challenge was navigating my way up to the ridge. There were several options, and I had to do a bit of wandering. But that’s part of the beauty — finding your own line. And I did. And last but not least, it is a challenging, complex and varied terrain with a difficulty level of T5+, in which you have to feel mentally and physically comfortable.
Once I reached the ridge, I quickly let the SOTA-DL group know I was safe. After a brief rest, I made my way along the ridge to the summit — deliberate in pace, light in heart, and full of quiet joy. The skywalk was a moment of sheer delight! An hour later — Bergheil — I stood on the summit. I set up my QRP station and began calling on 20 meters. The pile-up wasn’t long in coming. Of all the signals — loud and weak — I chose to dedicate my first QSO to my friend and loyal xOTA companion Mario, DJ2MX. It was an honor to log him as No. 1. Then I continued operating on the 40m and 20m bands. Job as usual. After about an hour of CW keying, I began packing up while still calling on 2m FM. My other close friend Andy, DL2DVE completed today's log with No. 66. QRT.
And finally — the last remaining, never-activated summit in the SOTA-DL Association — the Tiefkarspitze (DL/KW-014), 2430m — had been activated. It only took more than 20 years for it to be activated.
Solo. By DD1LD. My personal challenge. I let my feelings run free. That's why I keep doing this to myself!
In the distance, the Westliche Karwendelspitze (DL/KW-008), 2385m seemed to beckon me. I couldn’t help but toy with the idea of following the ridge all the way there. It would have been doable — absolutely. But I had promised my family I’d be home for dinner.
The descent to the Merk-Kronwitter-Hütte went smoothly and, in my opinion, was close to ideal. Unfortunately, 2m FM APRS didn’t work reliably. I regularly sent my location to the SOTA-DL group — just in case I got hit by a stray rock. In a worst-case scenario, mountain rescue would at least know where to start looking. And, there was only one more rockfall, about 20 meters away. Easy.
Roughly three hours after leaving the summit, I was back at my car in the parking lot. I made it home in time for dinner — and everyone was happy. Especially me. The fatigue and the countless scratches on my arms and legs will soon fade, and the emotions will settle. But what endures is the memory of this extraordinary journey — captured in the photos, the log, and a few quiet lines in the summit book.
Was it the optimal route? No. Next time, if I return, I’ll take a different one. Strictly along the ridge — that is technically more interesting and probably also easier and safer.
Thank you all! 73 de Dzianis, DD1LD
