Not quite a walk in the park
Two weeks ago, I broke my tibia and fibula at the ankle joint on top of a mountain at the end of the world.
It’s amazing how much you focus on all the things that count as good luck when you are in the middle of one big bad luck event. I’m so lucky I wasn’t solo hiking. I’m so lucky Dr Chris was there. I’m so lucky I didn’t roll the other way (off the side of the mountain) when I fell. In the middle of one of the worst pieces of luck of my life, I have been incredibly lucky in a lot of ways.
Hiking the W Trail in the Torres del Paine National Park in Patagonia has been on my bucket list since my first visit to the very Northern part of Patagonia in 2011. I knew I would return to this stunning place and immerse myself in its vastness. I had a bookmark from Bariloche on the front of my fridge for 6 years to remind me to find the space to get here. When I decided to take this year out, Patagonia was always on the itinerary. I was delighted when my friend Cate showed interest in coming with me. I wanted to share this with someone. It felt like a big adventure. Wild, remote, end of the earth stuff. Having someone to turn to, to share the wonder with, would be great.
Cate and I are new friends. She is the sister and sister-in-law of my friends, the incomparable Sues, who I met when I moved to West End, Brisbane for a couple of years for work. Cate moved to West End towards the end of my time there. We had probably hung out no more than a dozen times. But, in the way you just sort of know when it comes to new friendships formed in middle adulthood, I was quite comfortable we would be good travel buddies. We have both travelled extensively and knew this would be a particular type of holiday – active, remote and hopefully with some decent food thrown in, although we weren’t hopeful as Chile is not renowned for its gastro scene! We made good middle ground choices about the hike. Cate wasn’t keen on doing a guided tour and I wasn’t up for carrying a tent and all our own food, so we settled on self-guided hiking and staying in refugios and pre-erected tents where you get breakfast, dinner and a packed lunch. We could walk at our own pace, avoid the potential downfalls of tour groups and have some comfort at the end of the day.
You can hike the W in a few different ways. At its quickest, it can be done in three days. We had decided to build in some extra time (a nod to our age and lack of serious preparation!) so were staying five nights and hiking over five days. We were to start with the hardest walking days first, reasoning it would be good to do the tough days on fresh legs. Our first day in the park was a nothing day. We just transferred in and stayed in a refugio at the central camp – the main entrance for day hikes. We had a lovely meal and a bottle of wine at the hotel there, took photos, read, napped and got nervous about the days ahead!
We woke to a stupendous blue sky, sunny day. For days before we arrived, the cloud had been low enough nobody had seen the Towers the park is named for. Patagonia is notoriously dramatic when it comes to weather. You can go from sunburn to hypothermia in a day and the winds are frequently in excess of 120km an hour. The hike to the Towers had been closed a few days earlier due to high winds, but it settled overnight and our excitement levels were high as we headed off with gloves, beanies, thermals and rain jackets packed away inside our backpacks and sunnies on.
We knew we had about seven hours of hiking ahead that day, with an 800m altitude gain. The first section of the walk was up and over a manageable, but consistent climb. As you reach the top, the valley spreads out before you with a river running along its floor, carving through the black volcanic soil and granite. Our first stop was Refugio Chileno which we reached in just over 2 hours. We were to stay at Chileno that night which meant we could drop some of our gear off before starting the climb to the Towers. We set off deep into the valley and after about 90 minutes along the undulating forest floor and across rivers, we reached the start of the climb up to the Mirador Las Torres. It was a steep, tough climb with some clambering over boulders and careful progress over scree and rocks. I am a bit weird and quite like uphill climbs, but Cate found it pretty tough going. But we made it! And as we rounded the last of the huge boulders and were greeted with this totally breathtaking view it was all completely worth it. Even with maybe 75 other people up there at the same time, you still felt like you were on the edge of the world. We sat, ate lunch from our pre-packed goodie bags, took photos and just soaked it all in.
The wind was picking up and some clouds started to roll in – it was time to descend to Refugio Chileno to rest for another long day ahead. We were about 10 minutes into the descent, past the boulders section and coming into the open, scree part of the trail before it drops down to forest again. I was feeling on top of the world. My body felt strong, legs were good. I was loving every second of this hike and was feeling really confident about the days ahead. This was one of the tough sections and I was handling it just fine. What do they say about pride and falling?
I hit a patch of scree and my left food slid out in front of me, knocking a small rock on the side of the trail and I was on my butt with my leg in front of me and my foot pointing very much in the wrong direction to my leg. I knew immediately I was in a lot of trouble. Through hyperventilating, panicky sobs, I said something along the lines of
“Cate, my foot is facing the wrong way”
which obviously Cate could very well see for herself! But she went straight into calm, pragmatic mode and downplayed that. Cate’s reaction in that moment set the tone for how we would handle the minutes, hours and days to come. Some people got me off the trail and onto some big boulders on the side where I had a moment of realising how lucky I was I had fallen to the right and not the left.
I was obviously in shock as the pain wasn’t too intense at that stage. My recollection of the next little while is a bit blurry and my sense of time is off. But Cate tells me over the next 10-15 minutes a guide came past with a radio who called for help, closely followed by a park ranger who kicked off the formal rescue operation, a German sounding doctor gave me some sort of pain pill which I took – still no idea what it was, a lovely physio, aptly named Mercè, gave me some ibuprofen and stayed with me and kept me calm, a tour guide stopped and gave us a splint from his bag and the ranger put it on me. We won’t talk about the quality of that particular splint – my foot was still at a jaunty angle. And at about the 30 minute mark, Doctor Chris arrived.
All of a sudden a handsome, ludicrously tall man was bounding towards me, kneeling in front of me and telling me his name was Chris and he was an emergency doctor from Canada and he was going to help me. And he was funny and kind and efficient and calm and reassuring and it’s making me cry just writing this. Everything changed in an instant. How lucky am I?
Chris unwrapped the splint, managed to get my boot off, performed a reduction (basically he yanked the bones back into place as well he could, whilst Cate held onto me so I wouldn’t kick him in the face and off the mountain), put my boot back on for stability and then re-splinted me. The pain when he performed the reduction was obviously excruciating, but it was no more than a couple of seconds and the relief was immediate and enormous. I don’t think you can overestimate how good this man is at his job. To create trust to a level that allowed him to even get my boot off, let alone then pull my bones back into place is no small thing. Although the spine board (stretcher) had been brought up the mountain from Refugio Chileno by a couple of rangers, and we were ready to prepare for descent, the fact that Chris and his wonderful partner Allison had not made it up to the Towers was weighing heavily on me – to come this far and not see them seemed ludicrous. So I insisted they go up and enjoy the spectacular scenery (but not for too long). I’m so glad he agreed – having just seen them, I couldn’t bear the thought of them missing out. While they were up at the Mirador, Chris had an illegal, and I assume freezing, dip in the lake, and recruited some volunteers for the rescue effort. Three strapping young Canadians just showed up and said the doctor had sent them to help (thanks Aaron, Ryan and Nik)!
The first and most arduous part of the rescue effort involved multiple men (and Allison on at least one occasion I saw) switching in and out carrying me on a stretcher board down incredibly steep, narrow, uneven, rocky, slippery, treacherous terrain. I spent a lot of the journey with my eyes closed. That section took three hours. It would have taken most of the men 45 minutes or less to walk up it to see the Towers. Three hours of strangers carrying a stranger. Three hours of speaking to each other in single words of “stop”, “wait”, “rest”, “change” because only a couple of them spoke both English and Spanish. This was not an easy thing. It was dangerous for them and for me. I will marvel at the teamwork, calmness, strength, tenacity, grit, goodness and decency of these men for the rest of my life. Only a handful were there in their capacity as rangers or mountain staff. The vast majority were other hikers who simply did something extraordinary that day. I get totally overwhelmed and teary every single time I think about them.
After this first effort, we all had a rest, took some photos and said goodbye to most of the volunteers. We had a new team of mountain staff and a trolley type of stretcher, a litter with a single fat ATV wheel in the middle of it. I would say this was easier, but in reality, the nature of the terrain meant that they were only able to push me about 30% of the time. The rest they had to carry the litter over rocks and streams. Sometimes above their shoulders like I was some sort of pagan offering to the mountain Gods! If there was a song to go along with the offering, it was a single word chant, “Espere”. They would drop the e and it became a chant that sounded like “spera, spera, spera”. It means wait. During this leg we were joined by some gauchos (Chilean cowboys) in full traditional garb. Along with being amazingly strong, these guys were apparently comedians as they had the mountain guys in stitches and one of them spent a lot of time singing as he worked. Another two and a half hours and we reached Refugio Chileno where Cate and I had been supposed to stay that night. We stopped for food, a bathroom break and a spot of juggling from Doctor Chris! Because of course, juggling clubs are the first thing you think to pack when climbing a mountain.
The days are long in this part of the world at this time of the year – the sun was setting as we made the final descent down the mountain to the waiting ambulance. This was a much easier section for the guys. Still lots of lifts and some tricky parts, but we made it to the bottom in two hours flat. The carabineros (police) joined us during this section as did some other new faces. I would just say “hola, gracias” to anyone new I could see from my pretty limited vantage point. Mainly I focused on the same three or four faces that had been with me most of the journey – when I didn’t have my eyes closed! The team was buoyant, ecstatic to be delivering me safely, full of song and banter and as we grew nearer chants of “beer, beer” and “kiss, kiss” started to spring up. They might not have been able to speak much English, but they managed that!
As I transferred to the back of the ambulance at about 10pm, with the last of the day light fading, nearly eight hours after I sustained multiple fractures on top of a mountain, my relief came in the form of tears. I had no way to properly express the depth of my gratitude to these people and it was all going to be a rush because the ambulance had to leave. Cate tried to pay them for the incredible effort they had put in for the day, but they were humble and would take nothing – not even money for a beer.
I was so relieved to be down and so overwhelmed by the mammoth, herculean efforts these people had made for me. The chant went up again and I beckoned one of the young men over who had been by my side for about six hours, carrying me, checking on me, pulling my beanie down to keep me warm and occasionally wiping my tears away. I put my hands on either side of his face and planted a big smooch right on him. This was met with a huge, raucous cheer and plenty of laughter and a very big grin from the man in question! Chris and Allison tell me that as the doors shut and we started the two hour journey to Puerto Natales in the back of a very bumpy ambulance, the boys ran after the ambulance shouting “te amo mi novia!” (I love you my girl).
Stupid ankle.
What followed next was a frenzy of x-rays, calls to my insurance company, calls to my sister and best wifey (helps to have a nurse and a crisis management lawyer on your side) to help me with insurance, all in the middle of the night. Talking to an insurance company whilst lying on an x-ray table at 2am is not something I need to do again. Nor are the phone calls that start with “I’m fine, but there’s been an accident and I need your help…”.
In many respects, this is the worst place, in the worst circumstances, I could do this. We are literally at the edge of the world (well, we would be if the world were flat). Eight hours down the mountain, two hours in an ambulance, two days before I could transfer to a main city to see a trauma specialist, three more hours in an ambulance, two weeks in a hospital – the base hospital for patients transported in from Antarctica, a 3.5 hour flight to Santiago this morning and now we are waiting for a 15 hour flight to Sydney, a 1.5 hour flight to Melbourne and a 3.5 hour drive to the hospital near my home town. We are a long way from home. But I actually feel really lucky.
Lucky to have my new friend Cate by my side – she has taken another week off work and will escort me home. Fair to say our friendship got a little fast tracked this trip! Her care but not fuss, constancy, practicality, patience, humour, ability to make fun of me relentlessly and boundless kindness have been extraordinary. She has been the main point of contact for Mum and Dad and her regular updates have allowed them to feel secure that I’m in good hands and getting great care. She is now probably the only tourist to have ever spent two weeks in Punta Arenas! I will be forever in her debt, it’s difficult to put into words how grateful I am. Sorry I ruined your holiday Cate 😉
Lucky to have not only had an English (and Spanish) speaking emergency doctor attend me on the mountain and stay with me the whole time, but for it to be Chris and his Allison specifically. Chris’ humour and energy and the slightly perverse joy he got out of the whole situation were equally important as his medical expertise over those eight hours. Allison’s patience and kindness and care for me was so gorgeous. She was the one who busted through the ring of men around me when she needed to make sure I was ok.
Lucky to have Mercè, the physio, be there during those first terrifying minutes. I will remember her kind eyes for a long time.
Lucky to have had the three Canadians, Aaron, Nik and Ryan as part of that initial team who could talk to me in English and keep me calm. I loved that they were excited to have another story to tell about their time in Patagonia! Proper travellers.
Lucky to have done this in a place where people didn’t think twice about the impact on their own experience or their plans for the day, but just stepped up to help a fellow human in need. Hiking people are the best kind of people.
Lucky to have a wifey Nicole and a sister Emma who I could call and know they would drop everything to help pull together insurance requirements and ease the stress of that process.
Lucky to have family and friends who have been checking on me constantly and sending love and well wishes and funny videos I can’t really watch because the wifi connection exists, but is not exactly high speed!
Lucky to be in a first-rate hospital with a surgeon, Stefan, who is kind and talented and who immediately put me at ease when I arrived in Punta Arenas after two days of uncertainty in Puerto Natales waiting for a transfer. Lucky to have John, our international patient liaison who checks on me twice a day and has earned an OBE for his work as an honorary British Consul.
Lucky to have known those men who I was at my most vulnerable with for eight hours. I don’t know their names (we did exchange names, but they are gone from my memory), but their faces will stay with me forever. I will be eternally grateful and in awe of their efforts that day.
There is a long way to go until I’m in hiking form again. But the joy I had that day is still very fresh in my mind and I know that my hiking days are far from over. For now, I’ll be doing a little less roaming and eating slightly less than gourmet hospital food! I will take some time back in Australia to recover and rehabilitate and then I hope to resume my travels sooner rather than later. Who knows, by the time I hit the road again, I might even have the blog up to date!
Thank you to every one of you that has reached out on Facebook, Instagram, Messenger and by other means. The love has been humbling.
See? Lucky.
Thanks to Cate Kildea for the photos and videos of the journey down. And for contributing to and editing this blog from HER chair in my hospital room. Oh, and I’m just going to point you to the below. I’m currently travelling on my NAB credit card insurance and they’ve been great. But World Nomads is my usual go to. More than ever before I believe that if you can’t afford travel insurance, you can’t afford to travel.
