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A tale from the SOTA universe. Three radio amateurs. An unactivated summit. An agreement. And one man whose word weighs about as much as a worn-out band spring. Your Hansl investigated — uphill, naturally.
The Plan: Three Hams, One Summit, One Idea
It was one of those evenings when the bands were dead, the tea was hot, and the mood was good. Three OMs sat together in a roundtable — let’s call them Kurt, Berndt, and Fredl. All passionate SOTA activators, all with years of rucksack experience.
Kurt had an idea: “Lads, I’ve found a summit that nobody has ever activated. Never! How about we hike up together and do the first activation as a team? Joint credit, joint joy. That’s what bonds people.”
Berndt was in immediately. Fredl thought for a moment, then said: “Deal. Saturday at seven, at the car park below. Promise.”
A promise. Among radio amateurs. As rare as a clean signal on 40 metres at half past eight in the evening — but when given, it holds. At least that’s what Kurt and Berndt thought.
Saturday, 06:47: The Spot Nobody Expected
Kurt is sitting in his car at the agreed meeting point. Berndt too. Both have their coffee, rigs packed, antennas rolled up, spirits high. Only Fredl is missing. No problem, thinks Kurt — he’s probably stuck in traffic. Even though at 6:47 on a Saturday morning, only deer get stuck in traffic.
Then the phone buzzes. SOTAwatch notification. Kurt taps it. His face freezes. He silently hands the phone to Berndt. Berndt reads. Reads again. Then says a word that we shall, for editorial reasons, replace with “good heavens”.
OE?XXX/P 7032.0 FIRST ACTIVATION!!! Summit 2XXXm 0642Z
OE?XXX/P 7032.0 NEW ONE — never activated before! 0644ZFredl. With his callsign. On Kurt’s summit. An hour before the agreed meeting time. Solo.
The first activation. His first activation. All alone. All him.
08:15: The Celebration Begins — On Every Channel
While Kurt and Berndt were still standing at the car park wondering whether to message Fredl or head straight to the nearest pub, Fredl had already posted. Title: “First activation complete! Solo effort, great joy!” Accompanied by a selfie with summit cross, antenna, and the kind of smile you only wear when you know 47 OMs are about to type “Congrats!”
And sure enough, the comments rolled in:
- “Bravo Fredl, amazing achievement!”
- “Top work Fredl, thanks for the ATNO!”
- “You’re always the fastest — respect!”
Fredl basked in it. For hours. Replying to every compliment with a modest “Thanks, it was nothing really” — the universal signal for thinking it was very much something. Kurt and Berndt were not mentioned. Not a syllable.
It was as though that Wednesday evening conversation had never happened. As though no agreement had ever existed.
The Photo Blitz: My Summit, My Moment
And because Fredl is a man of ambition, the full photo barrage was uploaded to SOTAwatch immediately. Summit cross selfie: uploaded. Antenna setup photo: uploaded. Rig-on-sleeping-mat photo: uploaded. Even the thermos flask with the valley fog in the background: uploaded.
Caption on every image: “My summit. My first activation. My moment.” As if you could own a mountain like a sticker album. As if Kurt and Berndt, who have been operating in this area for years, were suddenly guests on Fredl’s mountain.
An older OM commented drily beneath the finest summit photo: “Nice view. Did you build it yourself?” Fredl didn’t get the irony and replied with a thank-you smiley.
The Race Nobody Called For
The sad part of the story: there was never a race. Nobody was competing with Fredl for the first activation. Kurt and Berndt would have happily hiked along, shared the joy, shared the laughs. The first activation would still have been Fredl’s — as a team, but with his callsign first in the log.
But the problem is: for some people, “first among equals” isn’t enough. They need to be “first alone”. They need the praise undivided, the spots undivided, the likes undivided. Sharing, to them, is loss.
Such people win a lot. They win first activations, top rankings, social media recognition. And in the process they lose exactly what amateur radio is really about: the friends you sit with on the frequency in the evening, laughing about that hike from back then. “Remember when we went up together…” — Fredl will never be able to say that about this summit.
Epilogue: Kurt and Berndt Climb the Mountain Anyway
On Sunday, Kurt and Berndt went up anyway. Not for the first activation — that was gone. Just because it was a beautiful mountain. They operated for six hours, made 82 QSOs, ate three sausages, drank two halves (shandy — altitude-appropriate) and laughed until their sides ached.
That evening in the valley, Kurt said: “You know what, Berndt? I had more fun today than any first activation could ever bring.”
And Berndt nodded. And both knew: that’s the difference. Some collect summits. Others collect memories. Some want to be first. Others want to be there.
And who drives home happier in the end — well, everyone can figure that out for themselves.
The Moral of the Story
- When you give your word, keep it. Even at 7 AM on a Saturday. Even when nobody’s watching.
- First activations are nice. Friends are nicer.
- Those who storm the summit alone also come back down alone.
- And: ham spirit can be learned. You just have to be willing to wait for the second person to catch up.
73 and stay decent,
your Hansl Hohlleiter, OE0HHL
Transparency Notice
This article is satire. All persons and callsigns are entirely fictional. Any resemblance to actual first activations, living or operating persons is purely coincidental — but statistically inevitable, because the lone summit rusher exists in every SOTA region. This article was written with the assistance of AI (Claude, Anthropic) and reviewed by the oeradio.at editorial team.
