Indian Creek is a true paradise. If you want to learn crack climbing, this is the place to train. The friction of the red sandstone is ideal, to get closer and understand traditional climbing. For me, the trip to Utah was a mixture of a tour and a holiday with my son, combined with the sport that I love: Climbing. This was my first large venture together with Manu, who was five years old at the time. My last big journey with Hari Berger. I knew Hari very well from the time we spent competing in tournaments. We had a very close, friendly relationship with one another and we decided, after spending time together in winter in Norway, that we would set out together in the summer. Six weeks of wild camping, in the middle of nowhere, at the same time, climbing until the fingers bleed – those were the days, Hari!
Hari was the complete motivation machine. Tackling a route like the „Pink Flamingo“, he could handle the torture like nobody else. He would get up around 5 am, as conditions at that time of the morning, were ideal. That was no problem for Hari, although I had problems getting up at that time. Luckily, we got to know several very friendly local people, who supported us, either serving as safety partners, taking care of Manu while I was climbing. My son was fully integrated and part of a large and somewhat crazy family.
Hari joined the trip with me and Manu, seeing it as a test run. At that time, he was in a relationship with Kirsten. Both of them were seriously considering starting a family. Hari wanted to see if he could combine his desire to have children with his passion for climbing.
Manu loved Hari, his buddy. Our time in Utah was hilarious, carefree, and for Hari very convincing. His girlfriend Kirsten became pregnant shortly afterwards. Baby Zoe was born in December 2006, just a few hours after Hari lost his life when an ice grotto collapsed at Hintersee. Hari, I know you would be very proud of your two girls, Kirsten und Zoe. I also know that you are reading this page: You were truly a great friend. We sorely miss you . . .