There are moments during a high-alpine expedition when all planning loses its influence. Not because it's unimportant. On the contrary. It's a prerequisite for everything that follows. But in certain moments, something begins that can only be controlled to a very limited extent and renders all planning obsolete.
In a few days, I'll be heading back to the Alps for two months.
My physical and mental preparation is complete. My gear has been checked and packed. The routes have been planned. Everything that could be influenced has been done.
Now nature takes over.
And this summer, it's already making it clear very early on who's calling the shots.
Many Alpine glaciers are already losing what they built up last winter. Snow bridges, firn fields, and glacier conditions are changing unusually early. Waterfalls are currently cascading down the north face of the Matterhorn. It's a sight that even experienced mountaineers describe as extraordinary. At the same time, reports of rock and ice falls are mounting. High-altitude expeditions, which for decades followed established seasonal patterns, now require a reassessment almost daily. For mountaineers, this is no footnote. It changes decisions—perhaps more than ever before. That's another reason why preparation in the high mountains doesn't mean sticking to a plan, but rather being ready to change it at any moment. Perhaps a route will be possible; perhaps not. Perhaps a summit will be reached; perhaps turning back is the only option. Not as a defeat, but as part of the responsibility that has always been part of mountaineering.
My photography in the mountains is therefore subject to a very special dynamic. And some images can only be captured if one is willing to expose oneself to precisely this uncertainty.
The camera captures what becomes visible for a brief moment. However, it doesn't decide whether that moment will occur. Only nature does that. For me, that is precisely the biggest difference between photographing in the mountains and in almost any other place. I don't determine when a picture is taken. I can only be prepared and hope that nature allows it.
In a few days, this very part of my work will begin. The part that can neither be practiced nor planned. And perhaps that is exactly why I keep setting out again and again.