Touching the void

 Touching the void (adapted from a true story)

Joe and Simon, two friends, fellow mountaineers, set out to climb an obscure unclimbed peak in the Peruvian Andes. Theirs was the classical Alpine style of attempting the peak. This meant they would be on their own, totally unsupported. All their needs taken along on their backs in their rucksacks. No backup. Neither of supplies nor of help or rescue. They had only each other for support. The confidence in each other’s abilities was complete and so was their trust. They would back each other to bail them out of trouble on the mountain any day.

Initial few days were spent in looking up at the mountain from their base camp which they set up at the foot of a moraine beneath the glacier over which they planned to approach the mountain. The mountain looked stunning and unclimbable from what they could see from their location. However one couldn’t really know unless one tried and that’s exactly what they wanted to find out. A way to the top! And back. After peering through a pair of binoculars, at the slopes and the ridges and spurs that fell away from the imposing snow covered face, they finally settled on a line of climb that could lead them to the top. They hoped.

They figured it would take them about three days to reach the top and return back to the base camp. Without weighing themselves down with too much provisions, except for some bare essential clothing, food, stove and climbing gear, they set off across the crevasse strewn glacier. Negotiating the minefield of crevasses and cracks that lay across their path was a treacherous task. Finally they came upon the rocky face that they had to climb to reach the ice covered slopes of the upper reaches of the mountain. The actual climbing was at last upon them. They were roped in and alternated the leads between them from pitch to pitch. They had climbed together on many occasions, hence their thought processes were very much in resonance. Communication was monosyllabic or just a nod of the head, saving every breath. Every precious lungful of oxygen. Sometimes their crampons slithered on the rocks that were masked by powder snow in places. But they held on. It was pretty tiring to say the least. Despite the cold weather their backs were soaked in sweat, which also froze on their faces. Hanging away from the rock, anchored to a piton they sometimes afforded themselves the luxury of looking around at the mesmerizing landscape that they had left below. To either side of them the face of the mountain extended beyond their vision, covered in fluted snow. The snowy fields were interspersed with windblown ripples. On occasion the peak that was shrouded in a plume of snow would reveal itself, as if enticing them on with her charms. It was exhilarating and both of them were held in thrall. But such are the pleasures of mountaineering. This is what people climb for. This is what touches their core. It’s akin to the high of a heroin addict. It keeps bringing the people back to the mountain. Again and again.

They had somehow managed to reach the foot of the couloir, which they had earmarked during their survey of the mountain face. The wind had taken up the challenge of blowing them off the face. A chill had also set in as the sun had now gone onto the other side. They decided to call it a day and having anchored themselves to a rock, dug a snow cave and settled in for the night. They had earned the rest. They partook of their meagre rations of protein and chocolate bars and more importantly hydrated themselves with the snow melted in a pot on the stove. Tomorrow was another day and the peak awaited them.

They awoke to a still and silent dawn. The wind had ceased howling and the picturesque peak beckoned, which now seemed tantalizingly close and within reach. The fresh untrammeled snow crunched under their feet. The progress was agonizingly slow as their feet sank up to their knees with every step. They soon came upon the ice wall which was shimmering in the first rays of the rising sun, which also set off the deep blue of the hardened ice. Already panting by now, their exhale condensed in front of their faces. The peak beautifully reflected in their shades as they looked up trying to gauge the distance. Gradually they started scaling the nearly ninety degree wall. First the ice axes would be thrust into the ice above their shoulder. Right then the left. Test the grip with their weight then lift each leg one by one and front point them into the ice to enable standing, as if on a ledge. Repeat the entire process, till the lead climber reached about 40-50 feet higher. He would then anchor himself and the second climber would then follow front pointing up the wall. It was tiresome work. But the night’s rest did them good and they made rapid progress. The ice wall soon gave way to a sharp ridge. They warily made their way along the ridge, taking care to stay away from the overhanging treacherous cornices. One false step and it would be an abrupt end to their adventure. Now the going was relatively easy and the summit lay just a few feet ahead. Suddenly Joe realized that he had no more to go! No more mountain remained to be climbed! He was already on the summit. He let out a whoop of joy! A few seconds later Simon joined him. They had done it! They had conquered the unconquered peak. They had touched the void that lay between them and the sky! The sense of achievement was overwhelming. Embracing and hugging each other, they celebrated by nibbling on a chocolate bar and drinking some water and turned their thoughts towards the downward journey. It wasn’t enough to climb the peak. They also had to get down to base camp. Safely. Preferably in one piece.

They had plenty of daylight remaining for the descent, which they expected to be fast. The weather was still fine. However one never knew when it could turn for the worse. Again they set off down the ridge cautiously one step at a time. Being energized by their success they made good progress. They kept alternating the lead, on the way down. They followed the principle of only one person moving at a time and also to remain roped in continuously. Joe was in the lead and was feeling his way around a hump in the wall that waylaid their path of descent. He tentatively reached across for a hold with his ice axe. He thought he had it and let go his other hand. However the left hand which had gripped the wall just came off and in the blink of an eye he slid down the vertical at breakneck speed, unable to break his fall. After a seemingly never ending wait his fall came to a jarring halt as he landed right leg first on an outcropping ledge with a crunch. Meanwhile, Simon sensing the tautness in the rope as Joe slid down, immediately turned around to face the ice and hung onto the anchor for dear life, hoping to arrest the free fall of Joe.

 Regaining his senses Joe tried to assess the damage done. There were no cuts or open wounds because of the heavy clothing. But the moment he tried to lift his right leg, he nearly lost his senses again, because of the pain that shot up his right leg; as if a searing hot rod had been thrust in. A loud groan escaped his lips as he realized that he had broken his leg near the knee. The significance of his injury gradually seeped in. High up on the mountain such an injury can be a killer. With no form of backup rescue available he was doomed. He neither could get down the mountain nor could he survive the weather on the open mountain face! Being unable to move by himself he would be endangering his partner’s life too. They could climb down successfully only as a team. They depended on each other for their safety. They were each other’s anchors. They also shared each other’s energies. If one of them couldn’t move, the other’s life was jeopardized too. On the summit he had touched the void between him and the sky. Here too he could see the void that needed to be traversed, stretched out below him. The whole adventure now suddenly seemed so pointless. It is only bravado along with a feeling of invincibility that leads you up the mountain to scale the peak. But the way down is a reality check. You start thinking of the warmth of a fire, comfort of a sleeping bag, food to satiate your ravenous hunger. You start to long for your near and dear ones that you had left behind, and whom you expect to meet on your return. Everything just disappeared as if in a puff of powder snow. The sense of total loss engulfed him. The prospects of him surviving the mountain seemed very bleak. As all these thoughts flooded his concussed brain, he felt the emptiness of all emotions. He could feel the ever expanding void inside him. He could not summon up the will to attempt the descent anymore. 

Joe then turned his thoughts towards Simon. What was he doing? How would Simon cope without his support? Would Simon abandon him and carry on down to save himself, knowing that bringing down his injured friend would endanger his own life? Or worse, would both of them perish on this desolate godforsaken mountain? The clouds had thickened and it started to snow heavily. The melancholic atmosphere deepened. Simon on his part immediately realized that something had gone horribly wrong. He could see where Joe had stopped falling and was held in place by his ice axe. But it looked like a very precarious perch, which couldn’t possibly hold Joe for very long. He had to do something. He slowly let himself down the slope to where Joe was rooted. Joe just signaled that he had a broken leg and was unable to stand or support himself. Thinking quickly, Simon worked out a strategy whereby he would lower Joe as a dead weight for a length of rope and then he himself would descend slowly to his level. This could be repeated till they reached the bottom. They managed to descend a few thousand feet in this manner, till tragedy struck again. 

The thick clouds prevented Simon from being able to see where he was allowing the dead weight of Joe to descend. In one such attempt Joe slipped over an overhang and was left hanging from the rope without any foot hold, literally hanging like a pendulum. There was no way that Joe could climb back up the rope. Simon was at the other end of the rope and anchored to the wall. There was no more length available to lower Joe to something firmer than thin air. Now both of them were well and truly stuck! They were at an impasse. Neither could Joe climb back up nor go down. Neither could Simon go down as he was impaled as an anchor at the top of the line that held Joe. It looked very much like the end!  Both of them were to soon close the chapter of their lives on this wind swept mountain face, lost to the world which was oblivious to their grim predicament. Unless……

When Simon realized that Joe had broken a leg, the only thought that occupied his mind was how to lower his friend down the mountain. Not for a fleeting moment did the thought of abandoning his partner touch him. It was never an option. He had frenetically thought up the trick to lower themselves down. He was sure that he could get both of them safely down to base camp. You can never leave a part of yourself out there and return in one piece. However the situation had now become more complicated. Simon could visualize the weight of Joe hanging at the end of the rope. He however couldn’t imagine what was lying below Joe. He could have been a few feet from the surface or a hundred. He gave Joe close to two hours to try to climb back up. All the while his mind wrestled with the consideration of the inevitable tragic outcome of their attempt on the mountain. The exhilaration of the successful summiting had long back vaporized into thin air, much like the clouds hovering over the mountain top.

Unless Simon did something, both of them were surely going to freeze to death, assuming Joe hadn’t already… what was left for Simon to do but release himself of the weight of Joe, hoping that he was only a few feet above the surface of the slope and that he wouldn’t fall a long distance, and even if he did, he hoped that he would somehow survive the fall. He was hoping against hope. He had to cut the rope that held his dear friend. He would be abandoning Joe to his fate. Was he being selfish? What would he tell Joe’s parents? Nothing in the world can prepare you for such choices. You never discuss these situations while planning. One never prepares oneself for such ultimatums. The chill outside was nothing compared to the cold hand that gripped his heart. It was a survival move. He emptied his mind of all thoughts and emotions. He felt that emptiness- that void and cut the rope…..

Like the tale of fortunes and misfortunes, fortunately Joe fell only a few feet from his pendulum position. Unfortunately the slope led him straight down a deep crevasse. The thud of the fall knocked him out. As he came to, he tried to figure out what had made him fall. He looked at the end of the rope that had collected around his feet and immediately realized that it had been cut deliberately. For a moment he was angry. Then he put himself in Simon’s shoes and understood the tough decision that his friend had to make. Tears ran down as they stung his frozen cheeks. His fate was sealed in this bottomless frozen tomb. The assurance that at least one of them would be returning back was a slim consolation. He looked at himself and took stock of his resources. It was going to be a long night. Not just because the sun had already set, but because he was embedded in a deep crevasse, where no shaft of light could penetrate. To make matters worse, the broken leg was making its presence felt. Every move he made was agonizing to the core, as the jagged bone edges grated against each other. He was totally dehydrated, hungry and utterly exhausted. Sleep came easily. Or was it unconsciousness?

He awoke with a start. Not knowing whether it was night or day. Joe was known among his friends as a very determined guy, not one to give in easily. His parents called him obstinate. Never heeding to their advice or words of caution. True to his character he started to devise a way to get out. He rummaged around his rucksack and fished out a flashlight. He shone it around him and soon realized that he was half way down a crevasse and was standing on a wide ledge. He had two options. Climb up and try to reach the surface or go down to plumb the depth. He naturally preferred the first option. His food and water was completely gone. So a breakfast was out of question! There was only one hitch. The broken right leg! How on earth was he going to front point himself up the vertical wall of the crevasse on only three intact limbs? He summoned all his will and started off. Every step was agony! Only a dozen steps were enough to sap his tolerance of the pain. He realized the futility of trying to climb and gave up. What remained was only the other option of going down the deep hole and see where the bottom lay, if at all there was a bottom to this hole in hell! He didn’t want to die! Like a rat trapped in its burrow. 

He dug out an ice piton from his sack and screwed it into the ice. Testing it with a tug he anchored himself and let himself down gradually, abseiling along the length of rope which he had thrown down. There was no pause for reconsideration. It was a continuous seamless sequence of actions. The beam from his headlamp penetrated through the darkness trying to scour the bottom. As he reached the end of the rope he noticed that he was hanging only a few feet from the bottom of the crevasse which was lit up from a ray of light that came down a slope from another side. He let go of the rope and cushioned his fall by falling on to his left shoulder. The ray of light lit up his hopes and his face. It was a gradual incline from the bottom up to the skylight. He again scraped the bottom of his dwindling energy resources and set off up the incline, the painful right leg notwithstanding. After dragging himself up over about fifty to sixty feet he broke through the surface onto the snow covered slope in the open. Daylight at last!  His face was creased with a smile and beaming in spite of the frostbitten nose. Hope at last! A couple of thousand feet more and he would be at base camp enjoying a hot meal along with liters of water to drink. With renewed vigor he started once again down the slope…

After cutting the rope, Simon stumbled past the point where Joe must have been hanging like a pendulum. He noticed the mouth of the crevasse below and immediately drew the conclusion of Joe’s death and entombment in the hell hole. Nobody could survive such a fall, especially with a broken limb. Poor Joe! Eyes blurred with tears Simon could hardly make out his way down the decline. The night was soon upon him and he again bivouacked for the night in a dug out snow cave. No water and no food. At least all his limbs were intact. As the howling wind abated he dug himself out and continued down the mountain. Bereft of all emotions except the overwhelming grief for his departed friend, he trundled on oblivious to his exhaustion, hunger and thirst. What would he say to his parents? How would he justify cutting the rope to his fellow mountaineers? Would anyone ever trust him again? What would Joe have done in his place? He somehow made his way across the crevasse infested glacier, trekked through the moraine, waded through the lake and finally reached the base camp. No joy. No happiness. No satisfaction. Only sheer misery. It was only three days since they had started climbing. An eternity seemed to have passed since. It was a different world that he had come back to. The void left behind by his dear friend would never be filled. It just didn’t seem to be worth it! Would he ever climb again?

Joe was planning his descent. Twenty minutes to that rock. A further twenty minutes to the next ledge. Skirting another overhang he dragged his lifeless right leg behind him and supporting himself on the ice axe he gradually inched down the slope. At last he reached the edge of the glacier. He could see the footprints of Simon who had preceded him across. Here again Simon was of help in treading a path across, avoiding all the crevasses. He wouldn’t survive another fall! He didn’t want to spend another night out in the open. Hunger was gnawing at his insides. His throat was dry as sandpaper. How he longed for a sip of water! He had already repeatedly scraped the bottom of his energy resources but somehow managed a few more steps towards his destination. The right leg had become numb. Or was he numbed to the pain? 

At last the glacier gave way to the moraine. But he was faced with another painful problem. How would he pull himself over the many boulders that lay strewn across? Dragging himself over the snow was much easier. The base camp was just beyond the moraine. So near and yet so far! There was one consolation however of the availability of water. He could now quench himself from the stream that flowed out from the edge of the glacier. It was no small relief. Reenergized from the quenched thirst, he started pulling himself over the boulders. The pain somehow became tolerable. The progress was painstakingly slow. Night had set in and his flashlight had exhausted its batteries. Unlike himself he couldn’t squeeze out any more energy from them! Time and again he would fall off a rock here and a slope there. He willed himself to rise and go ahead. Till he just could go no further! He had reached the end of his endurance. He was human. There were limits. His efforts over the preceding more than seventy two hours had finally drained every calorie of energy that was possible. He could not move his limbs anymore. Not another inch. Utter exhaustion. Complete void! He let out a cry of anguish. Again and again he cried into the night Simon’s name. Hoping somehow that he would be heard… 

Simon, after consuming all the food that he could muster to cook had settled in for the night. Those nightmares again! Him, frantically calling out to Joe. Joe not responding. Him becoming more and more anxious and finally cutting the rope. He could literally see Joe falling down the crevasse, mouth agape, arms flailing and shouting for help. Suddenly he woke up startled. Did he imagine it or did he really hear his name being called? He waited for a moment. There it was again. A plaintive call of his name” Simon….”! He got out with a start. It had to be his friend Joe who was calling him. There was no other soul in this cold desert. He rushed out with a flashlight and went in the direction of the sound…

Joe had shriveled to nearly two thirds of his weight. Simon lifted him up easily and tenderly cradling him in his arms, brought him into the tent. There was joy. There were tears. There was sobbing. There was happiness and relief as they recounted their travails. They lifted themselves from the depths of despondency to laugh once again. The void of separation that they had experienced was now filled with the glow of understanding and friendship. 

They would climb again!

Dr. Milind Shah