75th Anniversary. Annapurna 1950: First eight-thousander.

Exactly 75 years ago, a 3 June 1950a group made up of the best French mountaineers of the time, signed one of the most extraordinary - and tragic - feats in the history of Himalayan mountaineering: the first ascent of a mountain over eight thousand metres, Annapurna I (8,091 m)..

The Great Race for the Ochomiles.

In the mid-20th century, the Himalayas remained largely unknown and unexplored territory, and none of the 14 great eight-thousand-metre peaks had ever been climbed. Nanga Parbat, persistently attempted by the Germans in the 1930s, had claimed more than 30 lives; Everest resisted the British like an impregnable fortress (they had reached 8,570 metres in 1933); and K2 had repelled attempts by the Italians and Americans, who had come close in 1938 and 1939.

Against this backdrop, France - fresh from the Second World War and eager to regain its international prestige - was authorised to organise an expedition to the Nepalese Himalayas. It was 1950, and Nepal had just opened its borders to the outside world after a century.

At first, the French had Dhaulagiri in mind. They set out for it, but after several weeks of fruitless exploration, they came to the conclusion that it was an unfeasible undertaking in the short term. Thus, on 14 May, after more than a month in Nepal, the group led by Maurice Herzog took the controversial decision to change their objective and direct their efforts towards Annapurna, a practically unknown mountain, with hardly any photographs and of which they did not even know the approach route. A blind gamble in a race against the clock in the face of the imminent arrival of the monsoon. And so it would be, on 24 May news arrived from India, the monsoon had already reached Calcutta and was expected to reach the mountains by 5 June.

The team

The expedition was led by Maurice Herzoga young politician and mountaineer with solid experience in the Alps. He was accompanied by three guides from Chamonix, Louis Lachenal, Gaston Rébuffat y Lionel Terrayall members of the prestigious French Groupe de Haute Montagne (GHM). Also part of the team were Jean Couzy, Marcel Ichac (filmmaker), Jacques Oudot (doctor) and a number of highly skilled Sherpas, including Ang Tharkaywho had already worked with British expeditions.

Although the expedition had a classic hierarchical structure, marked by Herzog's organisational character, the success of the enterprise would depend on the cohesion of the group and collective sacrifice. Annapurna would become a scene of tension between authority, camaraderie, physical suffering and difficult decisions.

Exploration against the clock

After discarding Dhaulagiri, the expedition settled in the Kali Gandaki valley near the village of Tukucha. From there they began reconnaissance marches northwards, through unexplored glaciers, looking for a possible route to Annapurna. It was Louis Lachenal who first glimpsed a viable route: a long ridge ascending to the summit from the north, via an apparently more accessible slope than the extremely steep southern one.

Access to the north-facing glacier required opening a route from the valley floor to an elevation high enough to set up high camps. In the process, the climbers worked for days in extreme conditions, crossing suspension bridges, overcoming treacherous crevasses and enduring freezing temperatures. All this without proper acclimatisation or prior information.

Eventually, they managed to set up a series of camps that would allow the assault on the summit. The last of these, Camp V, was set up at about 7,400 metres, just below the death zone. It was here that the decisive moment of the expedition would be concentrated.

The summit and the price

On 3 June 1950, Maurice Herzog and Louis Lachenal left Camp V for the summit. They carried no supplementary oxygen. The ascent was slow, arduous and dangerously exposed to avalanches and wind. During the last hours, visibility was reduced and the cold was extreme. As Herzog recounted in his famous book Annapurna, first eight-thousanderOn the final stretch, the two men climbed like automatons, completely exhausted.

Around two o'clock in the afternoon, they reached the summit of Annapurna. The first eight-thousander had been conquered. There are no photographs of the moment: the camera froze. Herzog planted a French flag and buried a small cross in the snow. Lachenal, for his part, was already showing the first signs of severe frostbite. Herzog, in his efforts to reach the summit without gloves to handle the equipment, suffered severe damage to both hands.

The descent was an ordeal. The two climbers, semi-conscious and with frozen hands and feet, crawled down the mountain to the camp. There they were picked up by Terray and Rébuffat, who staged one of the most dramatic rescues in the history of mountaineering, lowering their companions by hand, in extreme conditions, across unstable glaciers and under the threat of storms.

The journey back to the makeshift hospital in Pokhara took more than a week. The suffering was unimaginable. Herzog lost all his fingers and several toes. Lachenal suffered similar amputations. The price of the glory was enormous.

Epic and controversial

The expedition was greeted in France with patriotic fervour. Herzog, charismatic and politically well-connected, was hailed as a national hero. His book Annapurna, premier 8000published in 1951, became an unprecedented publishing success and required reading for generations of mountaineers. "There are other Annapurna's in the lives of men," he wrote at the end of his account, a phrase that summed up both the spirit of self-improvement and the existential dimension of the adventure.

But not all was harmony. Decades later, critical voices questioned the official version of events. Louis Lachenal, who died in a skiing accident in 1955, had left diaries in which he expressed doubts about Herzog's leadership and the decision to go ahead despite adverse medical conditions. Lionel Terray also published his memoirs (The conquerors of the useless), where he added nuances to the dominant heroic narrative.

In 1996, the publication of Lachenal's diaries sparked a major controversy in France. In them, the climber expressed his frustration at Herzog's unilateral decisions, his fear of frostbite and his conviction that the summit was not worth the price they were paying. Herzog's hitherto untouchable figure began to come under critical scrutiny.

Even so, the feat did not lose its lustre. Beyond the personal and political tensions, the fact remains monumental: the conquest of an eight-thousander, without cartography, without previous experience in the Himalayas, without artificial oxygen and with rudimentary means. Annapurna was, more than an ascent, a leap into the void of human will.

An indelible legacy

The first ascent of Annapurna marked a before and after in Himalayanism. Not only did it inaugurate the era of the eight-thousand-metre peaks, but it established a new paradigm of exploration, daring and physical and mental endurance. In the years that followed, all other summits over 8,000 metres were climbed, but none under such precarious conditions and with such a powerful symbolic charge.

Annapurna, however, would retain its lethal reputation. Decades later, it would be considered the most dangerous eight-thousander, with one of the highest mortality rates. The French route via the north face has rarely been repeated; most expeditions today choose less exposed, but equally dangerous, routes.

In 2010, during the 60th anniversary of the ascent, several events commemorated the protagonists of the feat. In France, books and documentaries were republished; in Nepal, commemorative plaques were erected. Maurice Herzog, now in his eighties, was honoured with full honours. He died in 2012, one of the last great names of the heroic age of mountaineering.

Today, Annapurna remains a symbol. Not only of conquest, but of the questions that every mountaineer asks himself when he looks up: how far is it worth going? What price are we willing to pay for a peak? Are there other Annapurna's in our own lives?

The story of that 1950 expedition offers no easy answers. But it does offer an unflinching lesson in the power of the will, the fragility of the body and the beauty - terrifying and absolute - of the mountain.