One Life One Chance Read online

  We arrived at camp two in three hours and forty minutes. A layer of snow covered the flat area where our tents would go and we buried the equipment there and piled rocks on top to stop it from getting blown away. As we started our descent the wind picked up and it began to snow, first just a light dusting and then a heavier fall, with the wind at our backs. The weather slowly intensified and chased us all the way back to camp one, where we were quick to scramble inside our tents to keep warm. It was a tough day overall and as white-out conditions settled over the camp, we huddled to warm ourselves in our bags. One of the porters brought us a hot drink each, with a big smile. I smiled back as my morale skyrocketed, and I thought to myself that this was living.

  The storm had cleared by the morning and the rising sun was quickly melting the snow that had become stuck to the outside of my tent. It was day nine and another scheduled rest day before we moved higher. I had a very restless sleep, needing to pop headache tablets at midnight to ease the jackhammer behind my eyes. I’ve read many accounts from climbers who say the hardest part of climbing big peaks is adapting to life at altitude and staying fit and strong enough for a summit bid. I was beginning to understand what they were talking about. As we proceeded higher and higher sleep was getting shorter and more restless – constantly waking up gasping for breath. The altitude made me less hungry but I needed to eat and drink more than normal to acclimatise well. The endless hours inside the tent waiting for the weather to clear can be like torture if you don’t have books or journals to occupy your mind; too much time thinking negative thoughts is never a good thing.

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  On day ten, Petros and Johanna decided to quit the expedition. They each had their personal reasons and were evacuated by helicopter that afternoon. Maybe the first taste of bad weather was enough to make them second-guess their decisions or maybe the tougher slog to camp two was an eye-opener as to what summit day would be like. Either way, they left the team healthy, and as the helicopter echoed away down the valley towards Mendoza, we became a team of eight.

  I still remember vividly the strong bond our team had, regardless of our ages, experience, religion or where we called home. We were all there for the same reason, and especially after we had lost three teammates, the remainder of us pulled together even more. There were plenty of funny stories shared during tough times high on the mountain and a whispered word of encouragement from one of my team while I struggled for breath and was swamped in negative thoughts was enough to push me forward and finish the day. Little moments like that gave real meaning to the term teamwork.

  A light snow began to fall again in the evening but the weather report for the following day was good and with conditions improving, our plan was to move permanently to camp two the following day and repeat the load-carry process all over again. Temperatures dropped to minus 10 degrees throughout the night and I made sure to keep my water and pee bottle inside my sleeping bag. Hiking a frozen pee bottle up to camp two was not going to happen. As the sun brought its glow into the valley the winds were blowing steady and the sky was clear, so Matias made the call to push us on to camp two. As I pulled my pack onto my back I had to stamp life into my feet and keep my hands under my armpits. It was still well below freezing and my down jacket was staying on for the first part of the climb. An hour into the ascent it started to snow, steady at first and then it was thicker and heavier. The slopes were getting blanketed and we were pushing through knee-deep fresh powder as we came to the final turn before camp two.

  It took us four hours to reach camp two and as we arrived the wind turned gale force and it was white-out conditions. The horizontal pelting snow was stinging my face as I grabbed the tent from my pack and wrestled it open. Leonardo raced over smiling under his goggles and mask to help me get the poles into position and tie the tent down with rocks. The conditions that were crazy and exhausting for me were second nature to him. We both helped the rest of the team set up their tents and then everyone crawled inside to shelter from the storm that was getting stronger by the second. I was totally spent, it had been one breath per step all day, with ice forming into long strands from my beard and the wind howling; it was pure Hollywood stuff. The storm raged on throughout the afternoon and at dinner time there was a shake on the tent and Matias handed in a cup of soup and a hot drink. These guys were absolute legends and made our lives so easy at times I almost felt lazy.

  Our meals were all prepared by the guides and not having to worry about food prep was one of the biggest bonuses in joining an organised expedition. Years later on trips that I’d organise and execute myself, I would understand how good I had it on my early adventures. As we rested, Matias and the guides would be procuring water, boiling it, preparing our food, making hot drinks and sharing out snacks. Our meals would be as high in calories as possible, filled with oil, rice and sugar-rich local produce. My favourite meals were always ones that were easy to devour like rice and vegetable stir-fries. Breakfast was typically oats with dried fruit and coffee, quick and easy and perfect before a big day. Snacks were chocolate, nuts, muesli bars and preserved cakes, all high in good fats, sugars and calories. Our team would eat together whenever the weather allowed it and we would all cram into the cook tent and share our feelings and thoughts of the day we had endured or the one still to come. If anyone sat quietly it typically meant they were feeling sick or struggling mentally and we would all make an extra effort to cheer them up.

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  The weather grew in intensity and was fierce by the middle of the night. I was suffering badly from headaches while watching the tent strain under the wind, convinced it would tear apart at any moment. I managed to get to sleep in the early hours of the morning as the winds eased. The storm died down by dawn and the snowfall had stopped, so the team came together for breakfast under the main tent where we shared our storm stories and Matias gave us an update on weather and conditions. He dropped a news bomb on us, reporting that a team of Spanish climbers who were making a summit bid the day before were caught in the storm and were now missing out on the Polish Glacier. Then he told us an English team had also been caught in the open and one of their teammates had slipped into unconsciousness and died from exposure. We were very lucky to be low on the mountain when the storm hit, the teams up high and those on summit bids got caught in our worst nightmare. Rescue teams were now out risking their lives searching for the missing climbers.

  I thought about the missing climbers a lot throughout our rest day and into the night. To be trapped out in the storm, exhausted and freezing, would be terrifying. I ran scenarios through my head about how I would react in that situation and then hoped I’d never have to be tested like that, finally succumbing to sleep around 10 pm. I noticed while I was using my pee bottle after midnight, trying not to spill a drop into my sleeping bag, that it was now calm outside. The winds were gone and it was eerily quiet. As I zipped the tent open at dawn I was met with an incredible view of the valley below us, fresh thick snowfields all around and the sun beaming down on it all.

  The conditions were perfect for our load-carry and acclimatisation climb up to camp three, the 6000-metre mark on the mountain. We were the first team to hit the route after the storm so we needed to break trail through almost a metre of snow the entire way. I had never seen snow in this volume before nor had I broken trail, making day twelve a day of firsts for me, and a tough, gruelling one. Altitude’s effect on the body is a dominant force. If I was sitting and resting I was not breathing overly hard and all was fine but as soon as I took a step to go higher I had to gulp air into my lungs in order to get the oxygen I needed, then it would be one step, one breath the whole way up. The 500 metres of elevation gain took us five hours to complete in the tough conditions, and we cached our equipment and enjoyed a rest on an exposed and beautiful perch high in the Andes.

  The descent back to camp two was without incident and Matias pulled us all together for another round of weather and updates. The weather for the coming days was holding
clear and if this stayed the case our plan was to move to camp three the next day and push for the summit the following day. Matias told us that two of the missing climbers had been found and had sustained severe frostbite to their hands and feet, the third was still up there somewhere. He then lowered his head before telling us that two more bodies were found higher up. The climbers had been making a summit bid when the storm caught them and they died of exposure. The bodies were still so high on the mountain that it would be very hard to move them and they would stay there until a fresh team could be organised to bring them down.

  This was devastating news and the team’s morale was definitely affected and it was hard to process all the information and the current climate on the mountain. It was stacking up to be one of the worst seasons on record for fatalities. I thought to myself that the climbers who had perished could have been professionals with loads of experience, and yet they died; what the hell was I doing on this monster as a total beginner? I consoled myself that I’d trained very hard for this expedition, I was the fittest and most mentally capable I’d ever been and I wouldn’t be taking any chances with my life. I had total faith in Matias to guide us through the unknown scenarios as well. I could tell by the way the news had affected him that he had great respect for the mountain and the utmost compassion for all the climbers trying to climb it.

  As forecast, the weather was perfect the following day and as soon as I unzipped the tent I knew we would be going for the summit the day after. We shouldered all of our equipment and stepped off towards high camp shortly after breakfast. The conditions were perfect and with better acclimatisation and no trail to break we were sitting in camp three, three hours and thirty minutes later. We set up camp and settled into an afternoon of hydration, food and rest. Matias came around to each individual team member asking us if we were ready for the summit bid the next day. When he came to me and asked if I was good to go I didn’t hesitate in saying, ‘Absolutely mate, I’m ready.’ He smiled at me and said, ‘Perfect, we will step off at 5 am so get a good rest. Tomorrow will be a very big day.’ The reports of the dead and missing climbers were my last thoughts before drifting off to sleep.

  It was day sixteen and the day that we had all been working towards since our first hike around Penitentes. The alarm on my watch beeped at 4 am but I was already lying awake in my sleeping bag and waiting for it. I was instantly alert, switched on my headlamp and began my preparations for summit day. It was bitterly cold outside so I decided to leave three layers on under my down jacket until sunrise. I filled my water bottles, packed a few snacks and a camera into my pack and pulled on my boots. Sitting with my legs out in the vestibule I strapped on my crampons and then crawled out into the dark frosty morning.

  As I stood tall and stretched out my back I could see a line of headlamps making their way up the start of the trail towards the summit. It was another team that had gone out before us and were making very slow progress up the dark slope. I looked around at our team tents and could see everyone getting ready. It was close to 5 am and I began stamping my feet and waving my arms around to keep warm as I waited. The first stage of our summit bid was to make it from camp three to a ridge line called Independencia, then from the ridge, stage two was up to a rocky outcrop called the cave, and from the cave, stage three was to the summit.

  I didn’t want to focus on the entire route; just like everything else, I broke it down in my mind into short manageable sections and I’d just plug away.

  Once everyone was ready we moved off in a single file to begin one of the biggest days of my life. We moved slowly and methodically, the last thing we wanted on a summit day was for anyone to slip or fall and hurt themselves. The route was covered in a thin veneer of ice mixed with rock and scree. An hour after we stepped off I was in a slow, steady dreamlike state when a children’s song that I hadn’t heard since I was a boy started to repeat itself over and over in my mind. The song was from the Roger Ramjet cartoon and it was funny to hear it at first but after another thirty minutes I thought I was starting to go slightly insane. I tried to block it out as best I could as we trudged on upwards.

  We reached the ridge line of Independencia just as the sun was showing itself on the horizon. The rest break on the ridge timed with the glorious morning sun over the beautiful mountain range below gave me a warming recharge. There was a very small ruined wooden hut just back from the ridge and I wandered over and poked my head inside to see what was in there. I was ripped back to reality by a dead climber wrapped in a silver foil blanket lying in front of me. This was one of the climbers who had died of exposure a few days before and was yet to be recovered from where he lay. As I looked up from the body Matias made eye contact with me and I knew not to mention the body’s presence to the rest of the team. This was the reality of what can happen when things go wrong and morale would not be helped by everyone knowing he was there.

  I hadn’t seen a dead body since my time in the Army and it definitely had me questioning my choice to be on the expedition. In the end I came to the same conclusion – life is for living and yes, adventures are a risky way to explore that life, but with the right training, ability and decision making, adventures can be enjoyed in relative safety. This is what I convinced myself as I shoved my down jacket into my pack and pulled on my goggles to protect me from the sun’s strong UV rays. We departed the ridge, traversing up towards a second ridge called the Windy Pass. I’m sure you could guess from the name that it’s renowned for hurricane-force winds. This section had been a road block for many teams in the past, forcing them to turn back. I pushed the image of the dead climber from my mind and steadied myself for this next challenge.

  As we turned a corner to enter the Windy Pass I was expecting to be hit by a wall of wind but instead we were caressed with a gentle breeze and a clear trail. The sun was bathing us in all its glory and my spirits were high as we made our slow progress, one step, one breath at a time towards the next checkpoint at the cave. Halfway across Windy Pass, Matias made a tough decision to turn back one of our members who was showing extreme levels of fatigue. It’s a really tough call to make for a guide but a very important one to ensure the safety of the team. If one of us collapsed up high we would put the entire team at risk, and they would have to abandon their summit attempt and conduct a rescue. Matias turned Dody around, who I could see was upset with the decision. After a few minutes of consolation he began to make his slow progress back down with one of the guides towards camp three.

  It had been a tough six hours since we departed high camp when we made it to the cave and stopped for our second break of food and water. Matias mentioned to me in private that the other English climber lay dead close by somewhere but he thought that his friends had hidden the body out of respect. I imagined giving that same level of respect to one of the members of my team if we were placed in that situation. It would be incredibly hard to move past it mentally and as I guzzled some water, washing down a biscuit, I hoped again to never be put in that position. The final stage to the summit lay ahead of us, a steep rocky section made all the more difficult by the altitude and our level of fatigue. I guzzled one more mouthful of water to help down a headache tablet and we moved off towards the top.

  An hour after leaving the cave, we were moving at a crawl and needing constant rest breaks to keep everyone together. I was having fake-summit syndrome like I used to get years ago while hiking mountains in the jungle with the Army. It’s not a real illness, but as I came up over one rise and I was absolutely sure that this was the top and it couldn’t possibly go any higher I would then see the next steep slope in the distance going up. Every time it happened I would need to stop, take a few big breaths to calm myself and continue on. There was no other choice; I wasn’t turning back.

  I let my mind wander for an unknown period of time and when I looked up I saw some other climbers coming down the route towards me. They were smiling as they passed and looked energised and I knew where they had come from. As they passed on
e climber gave me a thumbs up and I latched onto this small sign as acknowledgement that we must be almost there. As I crested the next rise, expecting to see another slope continuing on higher, there was nowhere to go. Stretching below us in the distance were mountain tops as far as the eyes could see, I was standing on the summit of Mount Aconcagua.

  A feeling of accomplishment overwhelmed me and a few tears fell from my tired eyes. The team were all in a celebratory spirit, giving high fives and hugs to each other. It had taken us just over eight hours from camp three to be standing on the summit, six of our starting eleven team members having made it to the top. The summit was a rocky field about the size of a basketball court, a small smattering of snow lay on the ground but most of it was blown off due to the intense winds and storms. As we sat down to recover, the weather was changing, clouds began to block our view and a light snow began to fall. Matias reminded everyone that we had only done half the job and the most dangerous part was getting back down. He was right – statistics show that most deaths and accidents in mountaineering occur during the descent.

  I pulled out the sponsors’ flags and took some pictures for the media before we all shouldered our packs and began the slow process of getting back to the safety of our tents. I took one last look at the summit I had worked so hard to achieve and then looked up at the growing cloud cover, immediately thinking about the English climbers who were caught out in the open by the storm on their summit day. This thought triggered an alertness in me and I refocused all my remaining energy and attention on the climb and getting down safely. There was no way I was going to be another statistic wrapped in a silver blanket, motionless, on top of a mountain.

  As we descended, two of the team began to stumble and were starting to look very tired. Matias made the decision to short rope them to Leonardo and himself in order to help them get down safely. If they stumbled on any of the ridge lines during the descent they would fall thousands of feet to their deaths with nothing to stop them. By roping up, their lives were now linked to the guides and it was a brave call for Matias to make. Our progress was very slow and the gathering clouds and snow were following us down the mountain as an ever-looming possible worst-case scenario. Four hours after departing the summit, we stumbled back into camp three like a line of zombies.