the peak was reached by: Tomaž Humar
	expedition members: Tomaž Humar (leader), Vinko Berčič - Cene, Joško Bojić, Stipe Božić, Tomo Drolec, Andrej Kmet, Lado Ogrin, dr. Anda Perdan, Gorazd Suhadolnik
	north face - to acclimatize he climbs up the Swiss Route to an altitude of 7300 m
	2800m
	south face, he climbs - solo - alpine-style a new Mobitel Route up the central part to an altitude of 8000 m. VII, 90°, M7+
	4000 m
	he descends down the Swiss Route to 5600 m
	It was in April 1999 when Humar felt the mountains calling again - he knew the time had come to face the south face of Dhaulagiri.
	When organizing the expedition and choosing its members he ignored the standards rules and invited along a group of people who had no connection to mountaineering, but were in his opinion vital for the success of the expedition.
	For the first time in the history of mountaineering, his progress could be followed via internet every step of the way.
	During his acclimatization ascent along the normal route, he met several unsuccessful expeditions which were forced to turn back due to bad weather conditions.
	Despite this fact he started climbing the south face on October 25. After nine days of battling the slope where the ice was turned to sliding snow avalanches by the sun during the day, Humar found himself just under the peak of Dhaulagiri on November 2, 1999.
	The already terrible weather conditions were getting worse by the minute. After climbing the south face Tomaž felt it was not meant for him to conquer the peak, so he descended down the north face and returned to the valley.
	The film Dhaulagiri Express won an award at the Poprad film festival in Slovakia and the Golden Camera award in Graz for the best mountaineering film.

Winter had slowly turned into spring, and I still did not know what the fall would bring. At long last, in late April, Dhaula called. I could not believe it at first, but the call grew stronger with every passing day. I was again in the familiar condition of fitfully dozing at night, incapable of sleeping profoundly. It was at the same time the most terrifying and the most blissful moment of my mountaineering career, a moment I had been waiting for these last five years. Dhaula had finally called, and I knew I had to mount the expedition that same fall.

Chindi, my old colleague, can not accompany us on our expedition to Dhaulagiri, so Dipak finds me another one. It soon becomes apparent that the new sirdar is a novice without the foggiest idea of which way north is on a map, where the Kali Gandaki gorge is, or where Pokhara is.

Seeing as he is to be our cook as well, I test him with a few questions the answers to which I have known since youth. "How much potatoes should we take for two months, what do you think?" I want to know. "Sir, I think pipty," he replies.
" Are you sure," I act surprised. "There'll be fifteen of us in base camp!" "Okay, sir, I think hundred kilos!" I scowl at him, and he quickly adjusts his figures, as though we were haggling over the price of something, and not discussing amounts which must be calculated very carefully indeed, as we have a limit on the load we can take on the helicopter with us.
" Sorry, sir, I think hundred and pipty kilos!" "Oh, boy, do I miss Chindi!" After another sorry, sir he reaches two hundred kilograms of potatoes. It's the same story with the flour, rice, sugar … I lose my temper when he starts calculating the necessary amounts of pepper and chili in his crazy kilograms.

I get on a bike and pedal to Dipak as fast as I can: "I want a sirdar who'll know something about maps, Dhaulagiri and food by tomorrow!" "Yeah, we figured he mightn't be exactly right," they answer. "Good God, guys, stop making me nervous! I'm not an employment agency, I used to be unemployed myself! "

November 2. On the ninth day, after the miserable bivouac, I continue my ascent late in the morning, totally dehydrated. I reach the edge of the wall at one p.m. I throw my rucksack down and start pondering how to proceed. The weather is getting worse by the minute, and I'm just below the summit. I take my money, a picture of the Virgin, some photos of my family, the topo of the descent, the radio, the camera, a few energy snacks, an ice-screw and a daisy-chain. Meanwhile, Gorazd reads the messages from my country to me. They all wish me well - some are already celebrating success, some are keeping their fingers crossed, others are praying, and still others are nervous wrecks. One million seven hundred thousand hits in a day. A lot of people are hanging on my success and safe return, while I'm standing here on the brink between heaven and hell. After a while I speak to Sergeja. It's my decision alone.

It's almost two p.m. when Stipe radios in:
"I think no-one's ever done that before.It's time to start thinking about descending!"
I take the pictures out of my pocket, and in one of them my little Tomaž crooks his finger at me:
"Come home, daddy!"

I look toward the summit. The curtain of snow eddied about by the gale is constantly growing. At that moment I realize in a flash: You're going to die! If you go on, you're going to die, and there's no doubt about that.

I understood, so I did not toy with the fact presented. Dhaula had let me have the face, but not the summit. I was grateful for the knowledge. I wanted to see my children's eyes again, I wanted to go chestnut picking again...

In short, I wanted to live, so I descended down the north side.

Abstract from the book by Tomaž Humar, No impossible ways, 2001, Mobitel d.d., Ljubljana