A Review of Six North Faces
by Gaston Rébuffat
translated by Hitoshi Kondo
Hakusuisha, 1955
Rébuffat and a Generation of Mountaineers
For many Japanese mountaineers of an older generation, Gaston Rébuffat — together with his Japanese translator Hitoshi Kondo — was a figure of admiration and longing. Some may even have personally known him or learned from him directly.
Kondo’s preface contains an excellent summary of Rébuffat’s life and career, and it deserves to be quoted at some length.
He was born on May 7, 1921, in the French port city of Marseille. As a child he wandered among the mountains of Provence and climbed the cliffs of the Calanques rising above the deep blue Mediterranean, gradually falling under the spell of the mountains. At seventeen he began serious mountaineering, climbing La Meije and traversing the Barre des Écrins.
At twenty he entered the Jeunesse et Montagne training school, graduating at the top of his class, and the following year obtained his guide’s license. He then became an instructor at the climbing school of La Grave and later at the Army High Mountain School. Inevitably, his life became inseparable from the mountains, and after joining the Chamonix Guides Association, he devoted his entire existence to them.
Since 1947, when together with Édouard Frendo, founder of the National Mountaineering and Ski School, he succeeded in the second ascent of the Walker Buttress on the north face of the Grandes Jorasses, numerous first ascents crowned his career. In 1950 he became one of the principal members of the Annapurna expedition, playing an active role up to the highest camp, as is well known. Thereafter he continued his practical achievements, climbing the north face of the Eiger and repeating the Walker Buttress of the Grandes Jorasses, among many other exploits.”
More Than a Climbing Chronicle
When Rébuffat was asked to write this book, he did not wish merely to produce a technical account of ascents.
“Stars and Storms’ is a book that speaks, through the profession of a mountain guide, about the relationship between mountains, nature, the elements, and mankind, with the great north faces of the Alps as its stage. In this sense, the north faces themselves are merely the frame of my work. Therefore my book is not technical; rather, I tried as much as possible to bring out its human quality. On north faces one must bivouac — hence the word stars. And because these long climbs are so often struck by bad weather, there comes the word storms. Thus the title became Stars and Storms.”
This statement perhaps best explains why Stars and Storms continues to be read not only as a mountaineering classic, but also as a work of literature.
The Six Great North Faces
The North Face of the Grandes Jorasses
In August 1938, the Italian party of Riccardo Cassin and two companions made the first ascent of the Walker Spur.
In 1943, Rébuffat attempted the Walker Spur with Édouard Frendo, but they were forced to retreat by storms.
In 1945, they climbed beyond the terrace reached on the earlier attempt, overcame a 75-meter concave wall, and bivouacked beneath the Grey Tower. The next day Frendo fell 25 meters in an overhanging chimney. They traversed onto a vertical face of extreme difficulty, yet resumed climbing the following morning in thin mist and finally emerged onto the summit at noon, crossing the final cornice.
The North Face of Piz Badile
First climbed in July 1937 by Riccardo Cassin and companions.
In 1949 Rébuffat climbed it with Bernard Pierre. Though not entirely vertical or overhanging, the wall’s fine-grained, flaky, concave rock proved exceedingly difficult. After a bivouac they surmounted a gigantic overhang and continued up a couloir, only to be caught by storms and forced into a second bivouac amid rain, thunder, and lightning. The storm finally passed, and they reached the summit at noon the next day.
Rébuffat later reflected that on this climb he had fulfilled his responsibilities as a guide and proved his trust in his companion.
The North Face of the Dru
First climbed in July 1935 by Pierre Allain and Raymond Leininger.
In August 1946, at the request of René Ferlet, vice president of the Belgian Alpine Club, Rébuffat left the Montenvers railway station on the morning before the Guides’ Festival and began climbing that afternoon. Hoping to return in time for the festival the following morning, they increased their pace and climbed the 800-meter wall rapidly. During the night a violent storm erupted, bringing snow and forcing a bivouac, yet Rébuffat felt deep satisfaction in helping fulfill a dream he himself had cherished for nine years.
The North Face of the Matterhorn
First climbed in July 1931 by the brothers Franz and Toni Schmid.
In June 1949, Rébuffat and Raymond Simon deliberately chose the early season, when there would be fewer climbers and less rockfall.
This face, he wrote, was dangerous rather than technically difficult. The rock was brittle, the ice like glass, and avalanches fell almost daily. There were few ledges or secure belays. Though steep rather than vertical, the couloirs were like nests of falling rock and ice, so they avoided them whenever possible. Deceiving and testing drawer-like blocks of rock one after another, they climbed all day and finally reached the summit at nine in the evening, in the last rays of sunlight.
The North Face of Cima Grande di Lavaredo
First climbed in August 1935 by Emilio Comici and the Dimai brothers.
In September 1949, Rébuffat climbed the face with the famous Dolomite guide Gino Soldà, the young guide Mazzetta, and the student Laurent Stell. Though only 550 meters high, the first 220 meters were almost entirely overhanging.
By then the wall had become heavily pitoned, reducing the difficulties considerably compared with the first ascent. Bathed in the changing light of approaching autumn, the climb offered a day of pleasure quite different from the severe ascents of the higher Alps.
The Eiger North Face
The Dark Wall Above Kleine Scheidegg
First climbed in July 1938 by Heckmair, Vörg, Harrer, and Kasparek.
In 1952 Rébuffat wrote that this north face rose darkly above the lovely meadows surrounding Kleine Scheidegg, as though dispelling all gaiety. Sunlight scarcely touched it; only the summit ridge briefly caught the light. The 1,600-meter wall appeared gaunt like the chest of a consumptive patient and was perpetually veiled in mist.
(As I have already written previously in this blog about the tragedies and first ascent of the Eiger north face, I shall omit those details here.)
Three Parties on the Wall
A highly experienced French team — Jean Bruno, Paul Aubert, Pierre Leroux, Guido Magnone, and Rébuffat himself — entered the face. Beyond the Hinterstoisser Traverse they heard voices above: two inexperienced Germans, and above them the Austrians Hermann Buhl and Jochler.
Rébuffat already knew Buhl’s name and greeted him, but it was Jochler who replied. Since the Austrians were progressing slowly, the French asked permission to pass, but were refused.
They passed the “Death Bivouac” — the ledge where Sedlmayr and Mehringer had died — crossed the Third Icefield, and reached the “Traverse of the Gods.” Above them Buhl appeared to be struggling after losing the route. That night three separate parties, nine climbers in all, bivouacked high on the wall, with only 300 meters remaining to the summit as storms approached.
Avalanches, Storms, and the Frozen Rope
The next day a rock dislodged by the Germans struck Rébuffat directly on the head. By instinctively jamming his fingers into a piton and leaping sideways, he narrowly avoided the full impact of a massive stone, though fragments gashed his scalp and injured his right elbow.
Amid wind and snow they continued the long traverse and finally reached the last snowfield, “The Spider.” Separated from the Germans and Austrians, the French moved left above a couloir, but repeated avalanches threatened to tear Rébuffat from the wall. The Germans lowered them a rope, and clutching the frozen line, Rébuffat crossed the couloir and thanked them.
Nine Climbers, One Rope Team
During the second bivouac, the Austrians remained one pitch higher while the seven Germans and French crowded together on a narrow ledge, their feet dangling in space or resting in frozen rope slings. They shared their scant food, especially with the poorly equipped Germans.
The following morning the storm had passed, but bitter cold froze their clothing solid. The nine climbers now moved as a single party, with Buhl slowly forcing a way up the final vertical wall. Around six in the evening, somewhat after the Austrians and Germans, the French party reached the summit. Sharing their emotion and gazing for a brief while over that otherworldly alpine realm, they soon hurried down the normal route toward Eigergletscher Station before darkness fell.
Rébuffat and Hermann Buhl
A Slight Distance Between Great Climbers
One interesting aspect of Rébuffat’s account is that, despite his deep respect for friendship in the mountains, he appears somewhat critical of Hermann Buhl during the Eiger climb.
Yet Buhl himself — one of the legendary giants of mountaineering — seems to have viewed Rébuffat and the French climbers with admiration rather than disdain.
In Nanga Parbat Pilgrimage, Buhl writes:
“The identity of the five climbers who arrived later gradually became clear: they were two rope parties. Soon I recognized among them familiar faces from Chamonix. First of all there was Rébuffat — once close enough, we exchanged greetings. Then among those following him was Magnone, whom I had met two years earlier on the north face of the Dru. He had only recently achieved the magnificent feat of the first ascent of the great west face of the Dru, the last major unclimbed wall of Mont Blanc. I warmly congratulated him. Yet at that moment I suddenly felt something strange — rather, I thought to myself that standing here among such internationally famous climbers, I seemed unbearably small, almost like an unnecessary person.”
Reading this passage, one cannot help feeling that Buhl did not ignore the French climbers at all. Rather, he may have felt somewhat overawed by these internationally famous alpinists.
Friendship Under Extreme Conditions
Nevertheless, Rébuffat later expresses gratitude for the rope lowered by Buhl’s party, and warmly recalls the moment when all nine climbers effectively became a single rope team upon the wall.
In extreme conditions such as these, especially among multinational climbing parties, misunderstandings and tensions are probably inevitable. Yet this is precisely why the friendship described in the book feels authentic rather than sentimental.
One realizes that in the mountains, at the edge between life and death, human relationships reveal themselves in their rawest form.
Beyond Mountaineering Literature
Rébuffat wrote many guidebooks, mountain books, and films in addition to Stars and Storms. Even those who have never visited the Alps can vividly feel the atmosphere of the mountains through his works, while those who have been there rediscover both nostalgia and the profound beauty of the Alps.
Some readers may even have fallen under the spell of mountaineering through Rébuffat himself. There was once even a Japanese mountaineering circle named Stars and Storms, associated with climbers such as Tsuneo Hasegawa.
Both Rébuffat and Buhl wrote books that remain intensely gripping even today. No matter how many times one rereads them, they possess a dramatic power surpassing many ordinary novels.
Stars and Storms
The world-renowned alpinist Gaston Rébuffat brought his masterpiece Stars and Storms to the screen. Together with the distinguished actor Maurice Baquet, he challenges the five most formidable north faces of the Alps.
Between Heaven and Earth
“A guide does not climb for himself alone.
He climbs to ensure the safety of the mountaineer and to give others the joy of ascending the mountain they dream of.”— Gaston Rébuffat
English version prepared with AI assistance
(Originally written in Japanese)
Japanese version:
https://hifuka-otibohiroi.net/星と嵐ー六つの北壁登行ーレビュファ/