the peak was reached by: Tomaž Humar - solo from the last camp
	expedition members: Tone Škarja (leader), Stipe Božič, Carlos Carsolio, Viki Grošelj, Tomaž Humar, Davo in Drejc Karničar, dr. Damijan Meško, Janko Oprešnik
	north face, after three days at an altitude over 7500 m he ascends the French Route alone and reaches the summit
	3900 m
	The only classical Himalayan expedition Humar took part in and his first 8000 m peak.
	Among the members of the expedition were Carlos Carsolio from Mexico and Stipe Božić from Croatia, who became Tomaž's teachers, co-climbers and his close friends.
	During the ascent he spent his first night at the so-called "death's door"; with sirdar Arjun at the altitude of 7.500 m. The night passed without any difficulties.
	Despite being forbidden to do so by the expedition leader, he continued by himself toward the peak in the morning, and on May 6, 1995, stood alone at the altitude of 8091 m. His faith had never left him and he was rewarded in the end. The Himalayas liked him

Annapurna, or the "Bountiful Harvest," was for me - thanks particularly to our leader Tone Škarja - an unexpected opportunity which I could not let slip by. It was the only classic Himalayan expedition I had the chance of experiencing. I still believe one should first try everything, including attaching fixed lines, setting up camps, the Sherpas... There is no surviving without that in alpine-style climbing, which does not make allowances for any mistakes.

I keep telling myself that the storm can't last forever, and continue wading through the deep snow until five p.m., bearing right in the absolute white blindness. I know I'll never find Camp 4 again if the fog doesn't lift by nightfall. The thunderous cold has turned me into a grinding robot who's crossed the boundary between life and death.

It was an incredible sensation, completely indescribable. I was fully aware of the situation; I knew I would survive and I had no fear. He was with me because I had absolute faith in Him.

At five I reach the bottom of the summit couloir, which is so filled with snow that I can't even make out its outlines. I call base, where they've been expecting me since morning. When they find out I'm just below the summit, they're all primarily concerned about my health.
The deep snow, the storm, the altitude and the cold have all taken their toll; I'm exhausted, and I still have more than two hours to the summit. When I manage to clamber on all fours to the top of the couloir, the snow is so deep I decide to bear left, where there are more rocks. Gulping for air, I end up in a not too steep rock groove from where I somehow pull myself to just below the summit cornice. Toward the west, next to some isolated, V-shaped rocks, Dhaulagiri shines redly in the setting sun. Around seven I turn on my radio and yell into it:

"Camp base, do you read me, this is awesome,it's just awesome!"
I hear the base buzz with excitement, then Tone's voice:
"What's awesome, where are you,how are you feeling?"
"Man, what a sunset ... this is awesome!"

In tears, I try to describe my position. Next I speak to Damjan and then proceed to the summit, where nightfall and silence enshroud me.

I take pictures of my surroundings. I plunk down in the snow for a few moments and try to calm down. There's no time for anything but to beat a retreat back into life. It becomes dreadfully cold, so cold that I feel a sharp pain in the back of my neck. I start literally running back down in twenty or more meter bursts, then I throw myself into the snow and breathe, breathe, then get up again ...

Abstract from the book by Tomaž Humar, No Impossible Ways, 2001, Mobitel d.d., Ljubljana