Touching The Void

I have been extremely disappointed to find that most of my old favorites in movies no longer have any attraction for me with this new personality developing within me.  For instance, I find myself more attracted now to the photography  than to the story line (old me).  I am sure my children are rejoicing that I no longer view vampire movies anymore, but Godzilla still rules!

So, last night, I plugged in, Touching the Void.  A disquieting movie because I used to be a climbing guide and it was the only place where I knew I belonged for very many years.  And almost instantly, I was back on Longs Peak in Colorado, December 1975 .....

In the 1930's, the US Geodetic Survey was working on the mountain to determine the actual height of it (14,259').  Those men had to spend months up there, living in an area called Boulder Field and having to summit everyday.  Well, it is a hard climb and so to ease their labors, they packed in about a thousand feet of steel cable to help them past the almost impossible part of the mountain's northern terrain.  Those men hold the record for most ascents on the mountain.

However, outside of those men using cables to reach the summit, no one was able to beat my record I set in high school.  I darn near matched those engineers.  In some ways I have a little pride there because I did every route on the mountain, even creating a few new ones - and without using bolts to do so.  If you are not a climber, none of this really matters to you.  So, I digress...

It was bitterly cold day, easily -20 F.  Not too bad for a Colorado winter's day.  But, it was not until you went  through the Keyhole that you would be whacked by the 60+ mile per hour winds that day.  It was bitterly cold with that wind chill factor!

It was a little before noon when my climbing partner, Randy and I reached the Trough.  A narrow chute in the granite of the mountain.  Filled with snow and ice, it is a short slide before you are launched into the air for the rest of the 8,000 foot fall into the valley on the western side of the mountain.  I had lost a climbing party here in 1973.  One second they were there, the next they were gone, just that fast.  I and the guy roped to me thought maybe they had turned back.  Yeah, wishful thinking.  Randy and I roped up and began the nerve wracking climb up the ice.

I had just reached the Notch, a break in the eastern face of Longs Peak when I heard Randy yell.  He was falling in the chute!  I was at the worse possible place to have this happen.  In front of me, below the frozen snow cornice I stood on, was Chasm Lake 1,600 feet of air between us.  Behind me was a falling Randy and 8,000 feet of air to the bottom.

I did the only thing I could do as I was jerked backwards, I swung my ice axe for all I was worth, hoping for a solid bite into the ice beneath the cornice.  But, there was precious little space to swing that ice axe in and so as the pick slammed into the ice, the lower walking point I had been using up the chute, penetrated my leg and sunk solidly into the bone above my right knee.

At once, a thousand thoughts raced through my mind: the sudden pain as the leg was pierced and the sound of the bone splintering, the sharp impact as the rope went taunt and my leg was jerked free of the spear which had gone through it, the heavy grunt of my friend as he reached the end of the rope's stretch, the jerk of pain as my right shoulder separated being pulled out by the strap which held my wrist to the ice axe, then knowledge that we were dead.

There was nothing I could do to help Randy from where he hung.  He had to get back on the ice himself; I was busy slamming my right shoulder on the rock wall hard enough to pop the arm back together, before it swelled up.  It would be worthless now for trying to do anything with.  I put weight on my right leg; exquisite pain.  Randy was now up to me and apologizing for the fall, which was the least of our worries.  Going back the way we came was out of the question, as the area known as the Narrows, a thin ledge of rock, would require strength in both of my legs.  It was easily another 500 feet up the side of the mountain to reach the top.  I knew the cables were still there, but after almost 50 years, what kind of shape would they be in?  Would they hold our weight?  Could I control my descent with only my left leg and arm, my weakest side?  And could we even make it to the top?  Randy would have to lead and he did not know this part of the mountain.

So, standing in the notch, buffeted by sixty mile an hour winds with a wind chill somewhere around -80 or lower, we asked God for a miracle.  And Randy took the lead, with my guiding him on how to avoid the common mis-steps on that section of the mountain which had led to more than a few tragedies in the recent past.  We summited about an hour later, it was a glorious day, but we had no time to enjoy the view, we had to get me down and we were now three hours from the car when on good legs.  I theorized that if Randy could get me down to Jim's grove, a sheltered area, I could survive with my space blanket for a few hours while he went for help.

We crested the summit and found the upper cable to be in good shape.  1,700 feet below lay boulder field where the engineers had lived for months.  With Randy belaying me, I slid to the first eyelet holding the cable to the mountain, then he joined me.  I would slide to the next eyelet and so on, until we reached a point where he could stand and I could continue my slide down to a ledge  wide enough to hop along.  This was actually the easy part.

As we entered Boulder Field, those random rocks only hours ago we had hopped across in glee, now posed an almost insurmountable obstacle!  No way around the rocks, no way to now jump from rock to rock and no way Randy would be able to carry me.  My right leg  had been completely numb since starting the descent and my right shoulder robbed me from any grip with my strong hand.  I knew the femur was broken to some extent and I counted it a blessing I could not feel anything.  It had been excruciating making it the 500 feet to the summit from the accident point.  Four miles to the car and only Randy's good will to rely on in order to make it just to Jim's Grove,  maybe a mile and a half more, and I could curl up into a ball and whimper.  God how I needed something for my shoulder!

With Randy helping me move gingerly from rock to rock, we made it past Boulder Field.  We were at the juncture; turn right and bivouac in Jim's Grove or go straight.  The official trail wanders around through the trees for miles and would take Randy hours to traverse, or if Randy could be my crutch, I remembered the route used to run the telegraph line up to Boulder Field from the base of the trail.  It would be hazardous for me due to the terrain and ice but this could save Randy literally hours and maybe my life.  Randy was game to try.

We made it back to the car about 6:00 pm.  I limped to the car, threw my gear in the Duster's trunk and then pulled my pants and Duco leggings off.  I expected to see blood and lots of it but there was nothing other than a blackened square hole in my leg and a very wobbly bone underneath.  Yeah, we thanked God for getting us back to the car.  If bone chips and frostbite were all I was going to suffer above the knee, then awesome!

As we drove back to Denver, my leg began to thaw out and the pain began to come in waves.  I splinted it while Randy drove and thanked God again for even being alive.

As the movie drew to a close, I felt so sorry for that man whom had to crawl five miles out, after having been left for dead by his climbing partner, and having survived a horrible fall!  I could relate to a well told story, I could still feel the truth in their words.  I understood their viewpoints, but I also recognized that what separated us was that Randy and I were both Christians and therefore you sometimes need to take a risk, to make a sacrifice to save a brother (or sister, or even the lost!).

I am not saying that what happened on that mountain face in Peru would have been any different, were they Christians, but neither of them seem to have seen or found God through it, when He was so plainly evident in what did happen in the story.  There are no coincidences in life.....

Language is a little rough in spots in the movie, and though I consider it a must own because of my own similar experience, it has some real lessons in it concerning the nature of man, the triumph of the will, and the need for God by every person - particularly before you are facing your maker in an icy tomb .....

Rent it.  Sorry no girls, death, machine guns or explosions, just a real life story of survival and the nature of natural man.

Now for the rest of the story:
Back home, of course I had to go to the hospital.  A tetanus shot, some work for the frostbite at the wound site and a better splint helped a great deal.  Unfortunately, this was followed by blood poisoning and I almost lost the leg, however God came through....  :)