Confession time :-) I had an immense and epic day out yesterday, climbed the highest mountain in the Eastern Pyrenees, stunning views, excellent weather, but I did have a little accident. I tried to find a way down which the map described as passage difficile (difficult path) and it was a lot more difficile than it should have been!! I was high up, at 9000 or 10000 feet, and large segments of the supposed path were lost under steep snow fields. I managed to skirt around several of them, involving some dangerous downward rock climbing, but then got to one large snow field that just couldnt be avoided. There was one set of footprints in it, and I tried to follow them. I put snow grips on my shoes, not proper crampons, but little points that are supposed to help. They didnt. In hindsight, looking back, it was foolish for me to step out on such a steep slope, the snow field was at maybe 60 degrees or 65 degrees, and frankly I should not have been stepping out on anything over about 35 or 40 without crampons and an ice axe. It was afternoon, the snow field had been in hot sun for several hours, and the top layer of snow was slushy and slippery. I only made it out a few steps, and as I started to slip there was just nothing stopping me. It was sunny, I had taken my t-shirt off after leaving the summit and packed it in my ruck sack, my phone (with very little battery left) was fortunately zipped into my pocket, but I was in shorts and bare chested, wearing a backpack, and suddenly I was face down in the snow and falling fast. I tried hard to arrest my fall. I know a little about snow safety and I tried to spread eagle and dig in, but the mountain side was way too steep and I was just going faster and faster. I wasnt scared, oddly, for the first few seconds it was actually kinda fun, exciting, til I realised I was getting faster and not stopping. Trying to dig my hands in was achieving nothing, and my bare front was freezing, so I rolled over on to my back thinking my heels might be more use. Thats when I started to realise I might die. There was nothing, just a big mountain and a long way down, and I was going very fast now, perhaps around 30 miles an hour. Then I saw a hole. There was a hole ahead and it looked like I was heading straight for it. I had already been falling for 15 or 20 seconds, and there were not many seconds left, the hole was approaching fast. In my fleeting thoughts, I tried to avoid it, but it was a sizeable dark patch and I had no ability to steer as gravity was fully in charge. I fleetingly though Oh shit, how deep is it (the snow and ice was between 2 and 20 foot thick) and what will I land on but before I had any more time to think about bracing my legs or back or what I might do with my arms...I was in it. The hole was about bath tub shaped, but twice the size, maybe 3 times the size. I flew off the end of my snow shoot, having fallen, well, probably 250 feet or more in about 30 seconds, and going at 30 or 40 miles per hour...I have no idea what my butt, back or thighs landed on, I dont recall, all I know was that as my body weight (at speed) dropped into the gap, I very quickly reached the other side of the hole...only by now, instead of my body being up at the same height, I.E. my bum on top of the snow, now I was lower, and the 2 foot thick solid wall of frozen snow basically was now a wall in front of me. My legs disappeared under the snow sheet into rocks, my head and arms thankfully stayed above it, and my midsection took the full impact, 100%, my entire body weight at 35 mph slammed into a solid wall stopped entirely by my ribs. It felt like I was cut in half. Bang, I had stopped but my insides felt like they kept going, kinda like a car crash but without the car as protection. The impact completely winded me, I laid in the snow and ice, a jumble of rocks up my bum, gasping but unable to breathe. It felt like when I bust my back, I was gasping but nothing was happening. I guess it was a perfectly safe place to be sat, but my intuition was screaming at me to move and get out of the snow...I guess because if something was broken, I didnt want to be sat there in the cold when my body went into shock, that would surely shorten my survival time. So I somehow pulled myself off the snow and extracted my legs, and stumbled up on to my feet, bent over double in pain. I still had 6 feet of snow to cross to get to rocks, but not so steep, so I scrambled over to safety on solid rocks and sat for a moment trying to control my breathing. I felt compelled to keep moving, as previous injuries from a twisted ankle to a fractured spine have taught me not to just sit still, as everything seizes up. I knew I was still at 9000 feet, and I had a long way to get back down, my car was 5000 feet below, 5 or 6 miles down the valley, and in falling 250 feet I had lost the path, which was buried under the snow fields. I had a lot of dangerous rock scrambling still ahead of me, I had to get my body working, moving. I stood up, controlled my breathing and starting brushing off all the slush and snow...it was everywhere, in my pants, my hands were numb frozen, snow in my pockets, round my trousers waist band, in my armpits, you name it. My thumbs and the pads at the bottom of both thumbs (cant remember what they are called) were frozen and numb, and I had cuts and scratches up my arms...I got my t-shirt on, drank some water and started moving slowly, stopping every few steps to try to control my breathing. Slowly, everything started working and I just kept moving. I scrambled up on to rocks and looked back at the gash in the snow left behind by my falling body. From below, it looked insanely steep, I never should have tried it, an idiotic mistake, and a lesson learned for sure. I had not been scared at all, and I had not felt any fear. But then stood looking at where I had fallen, I realised that if I had been 6 foot to the left, I would have missed the hole completely, and my fall would have kept going...not 250 feet, but 600 feet, and I would have been spat off the end of the snow field at 40 plus miles an hour into a rugged boulder field. This would have almost certainly led to multiple broken limbs, possible broken spine, possible instant death. Many climbers have died from less. And had I had time to think about the hole before I was in it, had I been able to sit up and see what I was heading for, perhaps I would have put my legs out to brace the impact, that could have led to broken legs, or one leg up and one leg down and my manly bits taking the impact. I might have put my hands out and broken my wrists, almost certainly precluding me from further descent down the mountain. I was not afraid at the time, but I then spent the next 3 hours slowly making my way, lost and off route, down the mountain, over boulder fields, steep rocky walls, scrambling down stream beds and scree slopes, thinking about just how dangerously close I came to dying. I was on the quiet side of the mountain, no one about and no one knew I was there, things could have been a whole lot worse. So I made it home, eventually, and I hurt like hell. Every part of me from neck to groin feels like its done 12 rounds with Mike Tyson, my entire mid-section feels very sore and movement is slow, but Im alive, and I will not let one slip spoil an otherwise perfect day on beautiful mountains under sun-filled blue skies. It may not sound like it, but I am reasonably experienced in mountain environments, and I have been in a few predicaments over the years, and always come out largely unscathed. Mountains are by nature both beautiful and dangerous, and every time they try to teach me a lesson, I gain renewed respect for them. Im too young to die! I have a lot to do over the next 60 years! Yesterday, this cat lost one of its lives, but I still have 5 or 6 left, so Im doing OK! Today, I am very glad to be alive xx
Posted on: Mon, 25 Aug 2014 11:33:14 +0000
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