A History Lesson

This route had been our obsession for a long time. Movies, books, and legendary stories about this wall inspired us to develop the mindset we needed for the attempt. The plan was simple in theory: climb the entire route in one day, reach the summit of Triglav by evening, and descend into the valley before nightfall. When we arrived in the Vrata Valley and stood in front of Aljaž Hut, the great wall of Triglav was right in front of our eyes. Calmly, Radovan and I immediately traced the line of the wall with our eyes. We pointed out the lower slabs, the crux, the upper dihedral, and even some obvious navigational marks. It felt promising. We look ready, educated, and excited, I told myself. That evening, the valley grew quiet. The air cooled, the sun withdrew, and the hut slowly drifted into sleep. Our approach the next morning stretched endlessly. We were excited to start the route, but our heavy backpacks slowed us down, and an hour passed as we searched for the faint path that would lead us to the base of the rock, a smaller wall standing aside from the main rockface. This was the start of the Skalaška route—our gateway to Čopov Steber at the north face of Triglav. The 1000-meter rockface is split into two parts, lower and upper, and our objective, Čopov Steber, rises from the higher one. A striking dihedral, framed by dark rock and menacing overhangs, and unbelievable traverses—it was both terrifying and irresistible.

To reach Čopov Steber, we decided to approach through the Škalaška route—a common choice, but still demanding in terms of navigation and route finding. The first two pitches we climbed without a rope, scrambling over solid, sunlit rock, until we finally arrived at the real start of the route. For a moment, I thought of Joža Čop himself. I imagined him making the same moves, pausing to glance right and left, maybe even feeling the same pulse of excitement I felt now. To step, even briefly, into the story of one of Slovenia’s greatest alpinists felt like a quiet privilege. Radovan took the lead. He danced up a beautiful crack, reached a ledge, traversed left, and found an anchor. His call brought me up, and soon we were moving together in rhythm. We entered a flow state—just the two of us, absorbed in the climb, savouring every move. Skalaška gave us exactly what we needed: a taste of Triglav’s north face. We learned what to expect—the loose rock, the sparse gear, the constant need for attention. After four hours of steady climbing, we stood on Gorenjska Turnc, where the lower wall ends and the upper begins. Ahead of us rose our true goal: Čopov Steber.

Behind us stretched the Vrata Valley, funnel-shaped and beautiful. Looking out into that vastness, I felt my mind expand, my spirit stir, my soul sing. After a short break, we rubbed our hands together, ready for the real adventure—the fine climbing we had come for. It began with a long, loose traverse, then a short push onto a slender tower, until finally we reached the dihedrals—the very heart and spirit of the route. Our movements were gentle, deliberate, quick enough to keep momentum, but always aware. When doubts appeared, we met them with a glance at each other, sharing silent reassurance, the raw intensity of uncertainty. We weren’t relying on luck but on education, experience, and trust in each other to find the way through that immense wall. “Here, it takes little to overnight,” Radovan said, half-joking, half-serious. He was right—the face is huge, and it is easy to lose yourself in it. Our guiding stars were not chance, but the knowledge, instincts, and quiet confidence we carried within us. On some pitches, there was no gear at all. In those moments, my focus narrowed more than ever before—every move had to be exact, every decision deliberate, knowing how remote and isolated we were. The relief of finding an anchor built from two pitons was immense. Each one felt like a small victory, a sign we were on the right path. After three hours of steady climbing, we reached the crux. We couldn't see what we would face on these pitches. We were below an overhang from where pitons were shining as a call to action. We did a short break, read the map, and took a deep breath. Radovan’s lead was beyond perfect at those pithes, bringing us one step closer to the end. I felt a strong flow when climbing these pitches, placing my foot and hands at the right time at the right place. From time to time, as I picked up the gear, I turned my head to glance back at the valley. The view reminded me: this is real. We are here. In the place we had planned to be.

Čopov Steber carries its own legends. Along the way are three caves, each like a chapter in a story. The hardest climbing lies between the first and the second, but it is the third cave that holds the history. Here, Joža Čop and his wife, Pavla, once faced despair. On their first ascent, they had no knowledge of the terrain. Pavla could not overcome the overhang above the cave and was forced to remain there—four long days of waiting—while Joža pressed on alone into the unknown, carving his name into the history of Slovenian alpinism. Above that cave stretches the Čopov Traverse, the most iconic I have ever climbed. It was the heart of our adventure, graded VII, long and exposed, demanding every bit of focus we possessed. Radovan and I moved with a precision and gentleness I had never known before. Each step felt like a conversation with the mountain itself. Below me, the north wall of Triglav—950 meters of vertical rock—seemed to smile. I smiled back, set my foot on a slab, found a hold, and pulled onto the final ledge. Ahead lay the last pitch. We were close now. Near the end, we crossed paths with two other parties arriving from different routes. Strangers at first, but soon companions in fatigue, laughter, and relief, we shared those final hours together—tired, uncertain, and deeply happy.