Manolo: Weg durch den Fisch, climbing the Marmolada Fish route thirty years later

Some stories (and climbs) are destined to live forever. They are stories that are passed down by word of mouth, from one generation to the next. That become legendary. And unrepeatable. Like the one that happened on Via Attraverso il Pesce - the Fish route - the mythical climb established in 1981 by the "Czechoslovakians" Jindrich Sustr and Igor Koller on the South Face of Marmolada in the Italian Dolomites. The year was 1983, the climbers were Heinz Mariacher, Luisa Iovane, Roberto Bassi and Maurizio Zanolla, alias Manolo, attempting the first repeat of what is, and will always be, one of the historic climbs in the Dolomites. Not merely a reference route in terms of difficulty, but also one of the most beautiful of all. What happened next is common knowledge: while threatening clouds darkened the sky, Manolo set off to tackle one of the most difficult and sketchy sections of the route. Protecting himself proved impossible, apart from a single, dubious peg. Yet Manolo continued, upwards, ever upwards, further and further away from that "safety" point. Until darkness set in. "It’s a very strange situation" is what he seems to have uttered… He attempted to place an improbable peg, but the hammer slipped from his grasp and disappeared into the immense void. He couldn't see a single thing, neither hand nor footholds. He was utterly alone. Wrapped in the pitch-black, infinite abyss. The situation, more than "strange", seemed past the point of no return. Until, after un undefined amount of time that seemed like eternity, Manolo reappeared at the belay. He’d used a small cliff-hook to abseil back down to his partners… an absolutely extreme solution, not be imitated! The scene was illuminated by the light of a small candle… and this gave way to the long series of abseils that put an end to this adventure. A year later Heinz Mariacher, Manolo, Luisa Iovane and Bruno Pederiva (instead of Roberto Bassi) completed the first repeat of the Fish route. In 1987 Mariacher and Pederiva carried out the first free ascent. In 1990 Maurizio Giordani made the first solo ascent, self-belaying on 9 pitches, while Daniele De Candido and Gildo Zanderigo carried out the first onsight that same year. And in 2007 Hansjörg Auer climbed the Fish alone and free solo, without a rope…
Why are we telling all of this which, precisely, is common knowledge, which has gained legendary status? Because we found out that, a few days ago and after 31 years, Manolo returned to the Fish route. This in itself isn’t a groundbreaking stuff. We certainly didn’t want him to tell us about the route or how it had changed. What interested us instead was how and if - after a lifetime - he relived those moments, that abseil into the void. With what eyes did he scrutinise those holds. How much had his vision changed since those ghastly and unrepeatable moments? In short, how much had his life changed after that experience… Manolo didn’t say yes right away, on the contrary. But then the following landed in our inbox: "Weg durch den Fisch, on the Fish route thirty years later"…

WEG DURCH DEN FISCH, ON THE FISH ROUTE THIRTY YEARS LATER by Manolo

I’d promised myself that sooner or later I’d return, but the more time passed, the more I didn’t want to. In life I’ve sifted and rummaged through many places to relive and rediscover certain experiences, only to understand that they no longer exist, that they’re gone for good, are so distant that they’ve even changed abode. But the yearning to experience those moments once again has always been too strong. It’s the usual story of shattered projects, of things we want but cannot have, or of dreams that disappear at dawn, leaving no trace, apparently without pain. These are crossroads we head towards without the possibility of being able to choose.

If there’s something that I like about mountain huts then it’s the faces huddled around the table the evening before, they’re different, in the way they talk and are dressed, it’s a matter of fact. And if there’s something I don’t like about mountain huts it’s that, even before entering, everyone already knows what I want to do.

When I turn the torch off the light of day doesn’t reveal anything I recognise. I take off my rucksack and rack up. It’s thirty past six.

This place isn’t identical to others, and yet it’s not even somewhere I’ve never been to before; that wet crack doesn’t seem at all easy, but the deal was clear: I’ll come, but only to hold your ropes! But I begin to get worried. I can’t remember anything, not a single thing, everything seems the same and yet completely different, also when I look upwards, searching for that niche I can’t make out.

Someone joins us, his presence surprises me and I’m asked something in German. I can’t understand a thing but when he says "Fisch" I answer yes.

The ropes pull tight and I have to set off; it’s not easy, it’s wet and the rock seems loose, there’s not even a single peg; he’d climbed well, been light and fast.

Perhaps because of those two below us, but at the belay I take the lead, so as to not waste time, and we just continue swinging leads… those two disappear but I immediately regret being up in the lead, up in that soaking wet crack I climb against my will, as easy transforms into difficult and suddenly everything is like before, identical, grey, confused… and I drop my chalk bag.

I didn’t want to, but by luck of the draw I find myself dealing with that silver corner pitch, thankfully I don’t find it too difficult, there are pegs nowadays and I know where to go, I can protect myself, and when I reach the belay I get the shudders, memories flood in, lucid and frightful. It all seems simply impossible, I cannot understand what had pushed me that day to distance myself so far from that single peg. And that roulette on the cliff hook, that abseil in the dark, is something so far removed from rationality that I could never do it again. Emotions overwhelm me and the more I delve into the past, the more it frightens me.

In that niche I make out my friends, Heinz, Luisa, Bruno... and Roberto and when I set off once again I’m different, confused, cannot wait to reach the point where I truly felt even more alone.

It’s all easier now, more contorted, the threads and pegs lead leftwards, to places and pockets I’d never been before… then the belay… that I hadn’t reached and that smooth slab towards the crack, empty, where I failed to place any pro and where I had to continue climbing, upwards, upwards, ever upwards. I’m terrorised by the thought of having done it and - even though with difficulty - I comprehend why the others, down at the belay that day, had untied from the ropes!

Nowadays the the final meters that reach the crack are climbed by descending and traversing, feet completely smeared. Auer and his free solo springs to mind: congratulations!

From the belay I continue to look at that sheet of limestone and the void that now makes itself felt and I realise that after that day I’ve never felt more alone in this world, tied to a rope.

Twelve has passed and we begin our descent, I don’t want to climb any further. It's been a grandiose day of climbing, I can’t say I climbed the Fish onsight because I’d already climbed it more than 30 years ago but, above all, because we swung lead all the way!

Thanks to Koller and Sustr for their vision but above all... Thanks Omar! Had it been for me, I would have stayed at home to watch Bolt surpass even himself!

"Weg durch den Fisch"

Manolo and Omar Genuin on 27 August 2015