The text below is from something I wrote shortly after the incident. It was in support of my contention that organising group tours for on a pre-booked schedule was very unwise when the huts are as high as the ones in this area (up almost to 3000m). The dangers of snowfall and icing are too severe for a group which must move onwards to a schedule.
".............. If the above seems unduly pessimistic then read on to hear what happened on my first day. The conditions were indeed extreme on that day – but they were an excellent demonstration of what can happen just going up to the hut, let alone doing one of the ridge-walking days!
I left the Gasthof Post after making casual enquiries about the weather and getting a reply that it had been hot but there might be some rain today. I took a taxi to the Hintersee at 1313m and set off for the St Pöltner Hütte at 2481m – a route signposted at 4hrs. The weather was hot at that time and I was wearing shorts. I set off up the climb going well (I had recently led a tour in Switzerland and was still nicely fit). At that stage I was enjoying the outing and was pondering how I would feel as tour leader if one or more of the clients was not fit for the hard climb on the first day of the tour.
At the 2hr point I had reached 1900m but was now in thick cloud with very poor visibility. The rain started and, as is my usual custom, I put up my umbrella and fitted the rucksack rain cover. The rain got heavier and the visibility worse but I felt fine and the rain drummed on the umbrella. The temperature was dropping fast but that suited me as it kept me cooler. Less welcome was a succession of five lightning strikes in the immediate vicinity. This would normally have scared me witless, but I knew I was very close to some big high-voltage transmission lines, even though I could not see them in the thick cloud so I felt safe(ish).
As visibility was near-zero and there were no major direction changes I was losing count of progress but the last finger post had suggested I was dropping behind the “official” timings and had the better part of an hour to go. I had a GPS location stored for the hut but the vast amount of water in the air above me had soaked up so much of the GPS signal that the unit had lost the satellites. The temperature was now getting low and I was feeling a little chilly but still OK. The rain was tipping down so heavily that I did not want to put down the umbrella and change into rain jacket and trousers. I preferred to keep a good pace going and generate body heat. Also the rain was turning to sleet and heading for snow, which would mean I would no longer be able to see the red and white painted markings which were the only signs of the path: now on hard rock which did not take footmarks!
There were some wind squalls too. Finally one of these broke my umbrella. My reaction was “Damn – and on my first day too. No umbrella any more. Well, let’s get the storm outfit on now and hope the rest of the tour isn’t going to be too wet.” Then I got a real shock. I found it hard to open the rucksack fittings and get the gear out and, horror of horrors, I was unable to do up the zip on the jacket with my cold hands! With a bit of a fight I did get the press studs done up but they kept blowing open and I could not fix the toggles to get the hood to stay on my head. Obviously I was not as warm as I had felt.
I was now beginning to feel I was fighting for my life. I decided against trying to get into the waterproof trousers as I would get drenched and frozen while fumbling my boots off in the driving sleet and I doubted my ability to re-tie the laces. My main chance was to keep going before the way-markers vanished under snow and to maintain my body heat by keeping moving. I reckoned on anything up to 45min before I reached the hut. If that could not be achieved then, thank heaven for my good sense, I was carrying a double-bivi plastic bag and I could probably survive inside it if I did not delay beyond my breakdown-of-thinking point.
I staggered on feeling that this might be my fight to the end. Then suddenly I saw the outline of the hut above me. I had been going much faster than I had estimated and the torture was nearly over. Soon I was in the hut, had changed into dry clothes and was drinking a large mug of hot tea.
It would be great to end the account happily here, but the story continues…..
As I warmed up and started jotting down notes about the hut’s capacity and contact for next years possible bookings there was a group of people coming into the hut. They looked pretty wretched and I knew how they felt, although they had used a different path from myself. The hut was warm and they were getting dried out, but they were anxious and trying to make calls on their mobiles. Facial expressions were getting strained and finally, with my limited ability to follow German, I caught the dreaded word Unfall (= accident).
The Hut Warden bravely kitted-up and set off down the path below the hut. In the next hour or more there was a flurry of phone calls on mobiles and the hut radio-phone. Meanwhile the falling snow had ceased leaving some 5cm of cover and the visibility had become quite good again, revealing everything clad in white. We could hear a helicopter coming and going and eventually it landed outside the hut.
From the helicopter came the Hut Warden and a Rescue Doctor clad in a red protective suit. She came in and began to speak to the group I had just mentioned. The news was horrible. One of their companions had fallen to his death. The other four had been lifted off the path by the helicopter and taken down the valley.
The doctor returned to the helicopter and left. We sat in the hut and tried to eat our dinners. From time to time there was a breakout of sobbing – both from the women and the men."