Nanga Parbat: the Dramatic Conclusion of the Messner Brothers’ Expedition on the Rupal Face

By Marco Arezio

Dawn on that decisive day rose like an omen at the Higher Camp, a place suspended between earth and sky, where everyone’s life seemed stripped down to its bare essentials. Nanga Parbat, with its majesty and ferocity, revealed itself in all its cruel beauty.

Here, on the Rupal Face, brothers Reinhold and Günther Messner knew they were just one step away from fulfilling their dream—or plummeting into a nightmare with no return.

The atmosphere in the small camp was tense; every movement took on vital importance, every whisper echoed in the thin air. Everyone’s breathing grew labored because of the extremely high altitude, and even the sunlight filtering through the snowy ridges served as a reminder of just how fragile life was on those slopes.

To reach this moment, the two brothers had invested everything: months of training, careful selection of equipment, detailed studies of potential climbing routes and escape options. They had chosen the alpine style, which demanded self-sufficiency and swift action. Now they were there, facing the final section of the Rupal Face, ready to venture into the unknown.

The “Push” Toward the Summit

The first hours of climbing were marked by a steady, deliberate pace, the result of preparation that went beyond mere physical strength. Reinhold and Günther, tied together by a rope and by a deep fraternal bond, advanced with precise steps, relying on their ice axes and crampons to gain ground on sections of ice and rock.

Despite the fatigue and the focus required, they occasionally exchanged encouraging glances. In those moments, it was as though the mountain briefly suspended its harshness to grant them a fleeting sense of accord, a moment of human warmth amid the icy vastness.

The most dangerous section proved to be a particularly treacherous gully of ice, where the risk of avalanches and falling ice blocks loomed constantly. The Messners alternated sections of vertical ice climbing—bodies pressed close against the face—with stretches where exposed rock called for mixed climbing techniques, made even more demanding by the thin air.

Every swing of the ice axe, every step with crampons, cost a fraction of energy that could prove decisive by day’s end. Yet fueled by adrenaline and the desire to conquer that legendary mountain, the two brothers kept climbing with resolve, aware that the Himalayan weather is an unpredictable and often merciless opponent.

The Instant of Triumph

When they finally reached the summit ridge, a nearly unreal light lit up the snow and ice. The wind, which howled incessantly over those slopes, now seemed to transform into a distant chorus—a song heralding their entrance into an extreme dimension. Each step toward the summit was a struggle against both the rarefied air and their own psychological limits.

The view of the world below was simultaneously chilling and magnificent: distant peaks, plumes of vapor rising from the valleys, and that feeling of floating, as though the mountain itself had become some kind of walkway suspended over the void. Reinhold and Günther were well aware that at those altitudes, any misstep or moment of lost focus could be fatal.

The moment they set foot on the summit of Nanga Parbat was one of ecstasy and emotion. There were no crowds to greet them, no flags waving, no fanfare. Only the silent emptiness of high altitude and the rapid thump of their hearts.

Reinhold would later speak of a feeling of “absolute emptiness”: a blend of overwhelming joy and gratitude for having reached the top with his brother, but also a sense of foreboding, as though the mountain were whispering that the greatest challenge was not the climb but the descent.

The Beginning of the Descent and the Sudden Storm

As much as the summit represented the dream of every climber, it was only half the journey. Reinhold and Günther knew this and did not linger long at the top: a veil of dark clouds on the horizon convinced them that every second would be precious in starting the descent.

The weather deteriorated with shocking speed. The air grew even colder, and the wind picked up until it shook their ropes and their very bodies. Within a few hours, a genuine onslaught of snow and ice forced them to rethink their descent plan, driving them to seek alternative, less exposed routes.

Günther, who until that point had shown strength and resolve, began to exhibit signs of extreme exhaustion. The high altitude, accumulated fatigue, and the intensity of the storm were eroding his stamina. Reinhold realized that his brother’s clarity of mind was fading and that they needed to find a faster, more sheltered way down. It was then that, according to reports, they decided to look for a less-traveled route, hoping to avoid the riskiest sections.

The Tragedy and the Loss of Günther

Nanga Parbat is a mountain that does not forgive mistakes and allows no margin for hesitation. As they tried to descend via a different face than their ascent route, buffeted by wind and blinding snow, the brothers found themselves in a maze of crevasses and ice seracs.

Testimonies and Reinhold Messner’s own accounts speak of a moment of separation—an instant when darkness and the storm swallowed Günther, carrying him away in an avalanche or due to a collapse in the snowpack. Right there, in the heart of the Himalayas, unfolded the drama that would forever shape Reinhold’s life and alpinism history.

Reinhold’s despair mingled with a primal survival instinct: now alone in an extreme situation—no supplemental oxygen, no psychological support from his brother, and no break in the dreadful weather—he had to battle guilt and fear in his fight to reach lower altitudes.

The descent was an ordeal. Reinhold would later describe suffering hallucinations, desperate hunger and thirst, and wandering among ridges and frozen scree, pushed on solely by his will to survive and tell what had happened. Perhaps it was his exceptional physical resilience, his technical skill, and his moral strength—fueled by brotherly love—that eventually brought him back to safety, though frostbitten and utterly spent.

The Return and the Legacy of a Legendary Expedition

Returning alone and in critical physical condition marked the start of yet another difficult phase: Reinhold was now without Günther, devastated by grief and suffering serious frostbite, in a world demanding explanations.

Controversy flared up: some questioned the dynamics of the accident; others claimed the brothers had quarreled; still others criticized the choice of an “improvised” descent route.

But beyond the controversies and subsequent reconstructions, one glaring truth remained: it had been a monumental achievement paid for in blood.

Scarred in both body and spirit, Reinhold Messner chose to honor his brother by recounting the truth of those events from his own perspective, standing by his version of Günther’s tragic death in an avalanche for many years.

The 1970 expedition to Nanga Parbat—scaling the Rupal Face in alpine style and its tragic outcome—became a watershed event in the history of mountaineering. It showed that, while extremely risky, it was possible to attempt the highest Himalayan peaks with a lighter approach and minimal support, relying primarily on one’s own technique, endurance, and team cohesion. Yet it also laid bare the darker side of extreme adventure: the mountain makes no concessions and, when it demands a toll, offers no warning.

Lessons Learned and Spiritual Legacy

From that experience, Reinhold Messner carried a wealth of lessons that would influence his future career and shape modern mountaineering. On one hand, the pain of losing his brother never left him, becoming an open wound that drove him to tackle further challenges on the world’s highest peaks, always guided by deep respect for nature and its boundless power.

On the other hand, recounting those harrowing moments helped redefine the alpine style as the highest expression of freedom and individual responsibility in mountaineering. The age of large-scale expeditions, with armies of porters and multiple camps, gave way to a more essential approach where the relationship between humankind and the mountain became closer, more honest, more reverent.

The international mountaineering community also recognized the revolutionary impact of this episode. Nanga Parbat, already infamous as the “killer mountain” due to the high number of fatalities, assumed an even more legendary aura, intertwining the Messners’ story with the allure of a summit that became emblematic of challenging the unknown.

The Memory of Günther Messner

The memory of Günther, the lost brother, lives on in Reinhold’s words and in the minds of all who admire pioneering mountaineering. His memory does not fade but stands as both a warning and an inspiration: the mountain teaches humility and, at the same time, urges us to push beyond our limits.

For years, Reinhold Messner fought against rumors and insinuations, striving to clarify the true nature of the tragedy and reaffirm the profound bond he shared with Günther.

The discovery of some of Günther’s remains, many years later, confirmed he had indeed been swept away by an avalanche on the Diamir Face, putting an end to part of the controversy and offering a small measure of peace in a story marred by dispute and suffering.

Conclusion: The Path That Never Ends

The Messner brothers’ 1970 expedition to Nanga Parbat concluded with a mountaineering success of historic importance, but also with an indelible tragedy. The Rupal Face, with its ice and enormous vertical scale, became the stage for one of the most recounted and debated episodes in mountaineering history.

This third and final chapter of the adventure reminds us how, at high altitude, the boundary between triumph and loss is razor-thin, and how courage and preparation may not suffice when the mountain decides to reveal its harshest face.

Nonetheless, if this story imparts one lesson, it is that the deeper meaning of alpinism does not lie solely in the conquest of a summit but in everything that leads up to it—from initial training to understanding one’s own limitations, all the way to an encounter with the most authentic aspects of oneself.

Today, Reinhold Messner’s name is synonymous with the great Himalayan challenges and extreme mountaineering, yet his fame is forever etched by that ancient wound named Günther, a brother who vanished on one of the world’s most lethal mountains.

What remains, ultimately, is not just the memory of a great achievement but the legacy of a style, an ethical vision of adventure, and a profound reflection on the value of life in hostile environments.

In this way, the 1970 expedition to Nanga Parbat takes on the contours of a grand metaphor for existence: ascent and descent, dream and nightmare, the joy of success and the pain of loss. A story that continues to inspire generations of mountaineers and mountain enthusiasts, reminding us that every summit conquered leads us to explore the deepest recesses of the soul—and that even in the darkest tragedies, there lies a seed of knowledge and beauty.

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Photo Wikimedia: Shirjeel Imran Malik