Marc, you are respon­sible on our bid team for special machinery. And your hobby is anything but ordi­nary. So how did you get into extreme moun­taineering?

I’ve been climbing moun­tains for over 20 years now. I love nature and the feeling of freedom you expe­ri­ence in the moun­tains. It all started with easy tours in the Allgäu region and in Austria. That’s when I real­ized that I simply enjoy being in the moun­tains and that they do me good – they’re like a home from home. At some point, the peaks started getting higher, the tours longer and more diffi­cult, and finally the desti­na­tions more inter­na­tional. I’m fasci­nated by how alti­tude affects you. Once you’ve passed the 5,000-meter mark, inter­esting things start happening to your body and mind. It’s exciting and very thrilling, espe­cially in combi­na­tion with your athletic perfor­mance. And then there are the risks involved in moun­taineering, which of course have a certain appeal about them too…….

Which moun­tains has your passion driven you to climb so far?

The Zugspitze in Germany and the Gross­glockner in Austria were the first high moun­tains I climbed many years ago. I grad­u­ally went on to climb numerous promi­nent Alpine massifs, including the highest, which is Mont Blanc in the Western Alps in France. My passion even­tu­ally led me to my first 6,000-meter summit, the Stok Kangri in India. Later, I climbed the highest moun­tain on the Amer­ican conti­nent, Aconcagua in Argentina, and the highest peak in North Africa (Jebel Toubkal, Morocco), and then the Lenin Peak in Kyrgyzstan.

As befits any ambi­tious moun­taineer like me, at some point I started to dream of conquering an 8,000-meter summit.

Marc Grün

Two years ago, I added the first 7,000-meter summit to my list: the Himlung Himal in Nepal. And through these weeks-long expe­di­tions, I real­ized I could cope with the adverse condi­tions and the thin air. So, as befits any ambi­tious moun­taineer like me, at some point I started to dream of conquering an 8,000-meter summit. And so last year, I trav­eled to Nepal again, home to Manaslu, the eighth highest moun­tain in the world.

How do you find out whether you are good at extreme moun­taineering?

ZWell, at first, you’re just a normal climber, but at some point, you might become a skilled climber. And then, if you want to aim higher, you push your­self to more extreme levels without any guar­antee that you’ll get it right first time. I made a few mistakes on my first expe­di­tion that cost me the summit, but I still gained a lot of expe­ri­ence and know-how. In other words, you become more skilled and accom­plished with every tour, but nobody tells you that. But you should only ever climb high moun­tains if you have quickly learned to correctly assess the risks and, if in doubt, turn back without having reached the summit.

How did you prepare for the ascent of Manaslu?

To get phys­i­cally fit for the climb, I often just went to the Allgäu or Austria. Typical training involved running up the moun­tain from morning to evening and then taking the cable car back down again, wearing weight cuffs on my feet and a heavy back­pack to simu­late the condi­tions I would encounter during the expe­di­tion as closely as possible. That added up to 4,500 meters in alti­tude – some­times in constant rain, although that certainly helped my mental prepa­ra­tion. When, shortly before the start of my expe­di­tion, I was able to climb the Zugspitze up and back down again in just a few hours instead of the orig­inal two-day tour, my body showed me that it was ready to go.

I prepared myself mentally with breathing exer­cises, medi­ta­tion, and yoga. On an 8,000-meter climb, unex­pected things can happen, and you must assume that you may encounter things you’d rather not see. You have to be mentally prepared for precisely these situ­a­tions, so that you remain calm and don’t lose your cool if the worst comes to the worst. Finally, of course, an expe­di­tion like this has to be planned and orga­nized. The costs were stag­gering, due in part to the special equip­ment required, and so securing spon­sor­ships from inter­ested compa­nies was vital.

How did the expe­di­tion to Manaslu go?

After my arrival in Kath­mandu, the capital of Nepal, and making final prepa­ra­tions, we set off by bus to the edge of the Himalayas. We then drove into the moun­tains for a day in jeeps until the “road” ended. From there, we started trekking toward the Manaslus base camp. We spent nine days passing through gorgeous scenery, traversing forests, gorges, valleys and passes. The night was spent in small villages, mostly with local fami­lies, until we finally arrived at the Manaslus base camp at around 4,800 meters. This is where we stayed to prepare ourselves for the ascent.

A human body can only survive in the death zone for any length of time.

Marc Grün

After resting for two days, we began the acclima­ti­za­tion and supply tours to high camp 1 at 5,800 m, high camp 2 at 6,300 m, and high camp 3 at 6,800 m. We delib­er­ately avoided a poten­tial high camp 4 at approx. 7,500 m because it would have involved a huge effort to set up camp there and carry all the mate­rial up. The so-called “death zone” also begins at 7,500 m. Above this alti­tude, it’s no longer possible for a human body to survive for any length of time. We there­fore decided to tackle the summit later from high camp 3. After about two weeks, the high camp chain was set up and we were suffi­ciently accli­ma­tized to attempt the summit. After another rest period of several days at base camp, we were off!

Towards the summit … Have you reached it?

The condi­tions on Manaslu were very diffi­cult last year. In the previous months, the glacier had devel­oped quite a few steep slopes that had to be nego­ti­ated. Some of these were 80-90° steep, and some were over­hanging. Climbing at such an alti­tude is very demanding and exhausting. We then climbed up the moun­tain – moving from one camp to the next of a series of high camps that had previ­ously been estab­lished.

We arrived at high camp 3 in the late morning of the third day where we rested for a few hours before starting the summit push at 6pm in the evening. The weather was crit­ical due to the cold and a storm – and it was here that we first encoun­tered some serious prob­lems. My climbing Sherpa’s oxygen regu­lator was defec­tive and had frozen. He there­fore had to climb without addi­tional oxygen, which logi­cally caused him obvious prob­lems at this alti­tude. He was getting slower and weaker, and I often had to wait a long time for him.

We were in the middle of the death zone and making slow progress. His strength was dwin­dling and he was shat­tered at just short of 8,000 meters. He couldn’t climb any further and was very weak. His life was in acute danger, so I decided to abandon the summit and try to get him down safely somehow. We couldn’t expect any help as there were no other climbers nearby. We then strug­gled back down to high camp 3, which took us a total of 17 hours of non-stop climbing and spent a very uncom­fort­able and stormy night there at 6,800 meters.

So what happened next?

The next day we made our way back down to base camp where we arrived safely after a few hours. Due to the onset of winter and with the logis­tics chain no longer in place, it was clear that there would be no second summit attempt. After another night’s rest, we started trekking back to civi­liza­tion from the base camp, which was very stren­uous due to the past grueling weeks plus four days of constant rain. After two more days riding in jeeps, we arrived back in Kath­mandu – exhausted but nonethe­less happy. A hot shower, clean and dry clothes, and a cold beer ……. pure bliss!

How do your family and friends feel about your – not exactly harm­less – hobby?

My family and closest friends, in partic­ular, know just how passionate I am about moun­tains, and that I simply feel good there and at home. I also occa­sion­ally go on tours in the moun­tains with my friends – not to cover any specific alti­tude or distance, but simply to have fun and spend time together. Nonethe­less, my family do, natu­rally, worry when my next big tour is up. And, of course, they are more than happy and relieved every time I arrive home safe and sound after weeks of radio silence.

You were denied the chance to reach the Manaslu summit. How do you deal with success and failure?

I always see a moun­tain climb and an expe­di­tion as a complete package. For me, it’s not just about reaching the summit. It’s every­thing that goes with it, like the journey itself, trekking to the moun­tain, getting to know new people and cultures, expe­ri­encing new things; to me, they’re all just as much a part of it. For this reason alone, the first ten days of the Manaslu expe­di­tion –before we even started climbing the moun­tain – were a worth­while expe­ri­ence. The summit is impor­tant to me, but not every­thing and – certainly not at any price.

 

Does extreme moun­taineering also benefit you in terms of your work?

Yes, absolutely! Every moun­tain tour changes me. For me, the moun­tains are like a school for life. They teach me things like posi­tive confronta­tion and perse­ver­ance. Or the confi­dence that if I invest enough energy and strength in a project, I can achieve anything I put my mind to, even in a crit­ical situ­a­tion. I think my super­vi­sors also sense that I have devel­oped certain qual­i­ties through moun­taineering that help me move forward and that also benefit my daily work. For example, I can pull off complex projects – despite all the chal­lenges involved. I have also learned to prior­i­tize. What is impor­tant right here and now, and what is maybe less urgent? What do I need to focus on at this very moment? It’s all very helpful in everyday busi­ness life. And that’s some­thing the moun­tains teach you too.

You use your vaca­tions for your moun­tain tours. So how do you still find time to relax?

For me, being in the moun­tains is sheer relax­ation. It doesn’t need to be a weeks-long expe­di­tion; I also really enjoy going on simple tours alone or with friends, like in the Alps. I can’t just sit around at home, there’s always some­thing I have to do. After the Manaslu expe­di­tion, I was phys­i­cally and mentally exhausted for a long time – it was the stress after the stress, so to speak. I find that relax­ation exer­cises and yoga help. In today’s hectic world with busy sched­ules, the trick is to make the most of the short time avail­able to recover.

Does Uhlmann support you in any way?

I would really like to compli­ment Uhlmann as an employer. I could hardly expect them to shout ‘hurrah’ when I announced that I would be away for several weeks to tackle an 8000-meter peak in the distant Himalayas. But they always responded with enthu­siasm and supported me wher­ever they could. That’s not some­thing you should take for granted and I am very grateful to them for that.

 

What’s next on your agenda? Is there already another moun­tain out there beck­oning you?

There are, actu­ally, a few smaller moun­tains that have been calling me since my return from Nepal. As far as all the really high moun­tains in the world are concerned, I already sensed during my descent from Manaslu that my mission was prob­ably not quite over yet. But an expe­di­tion like this depends on numerous factors that have to fall into place. I’m not getting any younger, and you really have to think care­fully about whether you want to put your­self through it all again. But there are defi­nitely a few ideas I already have in mind …

Thank you very much for the inter­view, Marc!