Austria’s ‘notorious’ slope

Kitzbuehel / DPA

Without my poles I would have been lost. I was using all my strength to push them into the slope and pull myself up. I had no idea the competition would be so hard.
I was taking part in order to conquer one of the most dangerous ski runs in the world, the “Streif” in Austria’s Kitzbuehel resort. But in “Vertical Up” races, competitors travel the other way along the slope.
Instead of racing down to the valley with skis at breakneck speed, competitors use snow shoes, spikes or touring skis to climb to the top.
The race, which began in 2011 and has steadily grown in popularity, is more than 3.3 kilometres long, rises 860 metres in altitude and the steepest section has a gradient of 85 per cent. It takes place at night and there’s a “speed division” for the real athletes and a “rucksack division” for the more easygoing. That sounded like the category for me. At least, it did in the comfort of my own home.
At the ski loan shop they asked me reverently how long I’d been training for. “I’ve done a bit of jogging, bit of yoga,” I mumbled in reply, drawing looks of horror.
The “Streif,” on the Hahnenkamm mountain, is considered the most challenging course in the world for World Cup skiers, who took part in the 77th edition of the Hahnenkamm races in January. And it wasn’t hard to see why the slope is so notorious when I went to check it out before the race. In some sections it appears to be almost vertical.
As I was gazing in awe at the slopes, I spotted my first “Vertical Upper” wearing hiking boots and spikes as he tramped purposefully upwards – a final practice run.
“How long have you been training?” I asked the man, who introduced himself only as Christian.
“Ach, I’ve only been doing a bit for the last few weeks. I did it for the first time last year and it was really easy,” he said. Perhaps the race was in fact completely achievable for me then, I thought.
Later in the evening at the conference centre where the competitors were gathering there were an intimidating number of wiry men and women in lycra.
I met 62-year-old Harald Ziegler, who was also going to attempt the rucksack division. “You’ll manage,” he said reassuringly. That was before he told me that he himself liked to jog up the slope in summer before breakfast. Well.
We set off at 6.30 pm. Almost 1,000 participants surged up the mountain but after only 50 metres I was already starting to pant.
Suddenly a strong arm grabbed me from behind – it was Harald. “Use your spikes and push on,” he bellowed and I obeyed.
The race went on. And on. I was in last place. Harald took pity on me and refused to leave my side. “Just focus on the next bend,” he kept saying. “In the steep parts lean onto your poles.”
Now and then we paused – he to enjoy the twinkling of the stars and the view of the houses lit up in the valley, me to gasp for air.
And then suddenly the final slope appeared – just one more push up a steep section.
“I’ve never been so happy to see the last competitor,” the commentator chuckled over the loudspeaker. “We’ll play ‘We are the Champions’ for you as you cross the finishing line.”
Laughing hysterically, I staggered towards the finish, having completed the race in a time of two hours and 41 minutes.
The winner, who a short time later was presented with his prize on a podium in the valley, needed just 30 minutes and 29 seconds.
He seemed really familiar to me, it couldn’t be… no, it was. It was Christian, who I had met doing his trial run earlier.
And he wasn’t just the winner of that year’s race and the year before, he was also the Austrian legend Christian Hoffman, the Olympic cross country medallist.