Alive: The Story of the Andes Survivors

by Piers Paul Read

  Páez Vilaró agreed to this, as did the four other members of the group. Canessa, Harley and Nicolich prepared to return to Montevideo the next day on the C-47, while Páez Vilaró and Rodríguez Escalada booked seats on a scheduled flight the day after.

  Ten

  1

  After Vizintín had left them, Canessa and Parrado decided to spend the whole of that day resting near the top of the mountain. The three-day climb had left them exhausted, and they knew that they would need all their strength to reach the top again and then go down the other side. They also hoped that the aeroplane which had so nearly passed over them the day before might make another run in the same direction. As it was, the peace of their eyrie was not disturbed. They ate their meat, melted snow to drink and thought of what lay ahead, Canessa trying to dispel his basic pessimism with thoughts such as ‘Qui ne risque rien, n’a rien’ or ‘The water which falls down that side of the mountain must somehow get to the sea.’

  At nine in the morning on Saturday, December 16, Parrado and Canessa set off once again for the top of the mountain, Parrado first. This time they were carrying their knapsacks which, with the departure of Vizintín were even heavier than before. It made the ascent considerably more difficult. The air at that height was very rarified; their hearts beat fast and after every three steps they would have to pause and rest, clinging to the precipitous wall of snow.

  It took them three hours to reach the top. There they rested and looked over the other side for the best way down. There was considerably less snow, the valley they were making for was quite clear, but one way down looked as good as another, so they chose a path at random and set off, Parrado once again taking the lead. It was extremely difficult going for, while the sides of the mountain were not sheer, they were very steep and often made up not of solid rock but of shale. The two were attached by a long luggage strap, but mostly they slid down the mountainside on their backs and bottoms – Parrado first and then Canessa – sending small avalanches of grey stone cascading down the mountain. Their knees felt weak and wobbly, yet both knew that a single slip might send them both toppling down the mountain – or they might just sprain an ankle, which in their circumstances would be as bad. Canessa began a continuous dialogue with God. He had seen the film Fiddler on the Roof and remembered how Tevye had spoken to God as a friend; he now took the same tone with his Creator. ‘You can make it tough, God,’ he prayed, ‘but don’t make it impossible.’

  After descending in this manner for several hundred feet, they came to a point where the side of the mountain was in the shadow of another peak and snow was still thick on the ground. The gradient was steep but the surface of the snow was solid and smooth, so Parrado decided he would toboggan down on a cushion. He untied the luggage strap, sat on one of his two cushions, stuck his aluminium pole between his legs to act as a brake, and shoved himself off down the mountain. He immediately began to fall at a great speed, and when he dug the pole into the snow it had no effect at all. He went faster and faster, reaching a speed he estimated to be sixty miles an hour. He dug his heels into the snow but they did nothing to stop him, and he was dreadfully afraid that he would topple over and break his leg or his neck. Suddenly in front of him he saw a white wall of snow lying right across his path. If there are boulders under that, he thought to himself, I’ve had it. An instant later he smashed into the wall and came to a stop. He was quite conscious and quite well. It had only been made of snow.

  A moment later Canessa caught up with him. ‘Nando, Nando! Are you okay?’ he shouted.

  A tall, somewhat shaken figure climbed out of the snowdrift. ‘I’m okay, yes,’ he said. ‘Let’s get on.’

  They both continued more cautiously down the side of the mountain.

  At four in the afternoon they came to a large flat rock, and though they had no real idea of where they were they decided that they had better stop there and dry out their clothes before dark. They estimated that they were about two thirds of the way down the mountain. They took off their socks to dry them in the evening sun, and when the sun had set they got into the sleeping bag and slept on the rock. It was not so cold that night, but it was particularly uncomfortable.

  They awoke the next morning at first light, but waited in the sleeping bag until the rays of the sun were upon them before eating their breakfast of raw meat and a slug of rum and setting off again. It was the sixth day of their journey, and at midday they reached the bottom of the mountain. They found themselves where they had planned to be – at the entrance to the valley which led to the Y. Its surface was covered with snow, which at this time of day was mushy and deep, so they had to wear their snowshoes, but its slope was no steeper than 10 or 12 degrees (1 in 8 to 1 in 10). Before moving on, however, they ate their lunch. The sun was on them as they ate and then as they walked again, which together with the exertion required to plod through the snow on sodden cushions made them both extremely hot, but they both chose to sweat under their four sweaters and four pairs of jeans rather than spare the time and energy to remove them.

  Soon after they had started down the valley, the strap on Canessa’s knapsack snapped and he had to stop to mend it. He was grateful for an excuse to sit down, for his strength was beginning to fail him. Whenever the intrepid Parrado looked back, he would see Canessa sitting on the snow. He would shout to him to come on, and slowly Canessa would get to his feet and plod after him. As he walked he would pray. Every step became a word of the Lord’s Prayer. Parrado’s mind was less on his Father in heaven than his father on earth. He knew how his father was suffering; he knew what need he had of his son. He was walking through the snow not so much to save himself as to save this man he loved.

  With his mind on his father in this way, Parrado would draw ahead of Canessa. When he remembered his companion again, he would look around and see him several hundred yards behind. Then he would wait and, when Canessa caught up, allow him to rest for four or five minutes. On one such stop on their journey they saw to their right a small stream coming down from the side of the mountain. It was the first fresh water they had seen since Vizintín had tasted the brackish trickle which flowed over a rock on the very first expedition. From where they stood they could just see, growing around the stream, some moss, some grass, and some rushes. It was the first sign of vegetation that they had seen for sixty-five days, and Canessa, tired though he was, climbed up to that stream, picked some grass and rushes, and crammed them into his mouth. He took more of this greenery and put it into his pocket. Then both boys drank from the stream before going on their way.

  As it came to the late afternoon, Canessa and Parrado began to argue as to when they should stop for the night.

  ‘There’s nowhere to sleep here,’ said Parrado. ‘No rocks, nothing. Let’s go on.’

  ‘We’ve got to stop,’ Canessa replied. ‘I’m finished. I need to rest. And you’ll kill yourself too if you don’t slow down.’

  A momentary struggle went on in Parrado’s mind between his impatience to continue and the common sense of the medical student’s enjoiner to conserve his energy. It was also quite apparent that even if Parrado might survive such a forced march, Canessa would not. He therefore agreed to stop for the day, and they pitched camp on the snow. The sun had gone behind the mountains and it had started to get cold, so they climbed into their sleeping bag and warmed themselves with a drink of the rum they carried with them. Then they lay looking down the valley which was their path to freedom, wondering what would face them the next day.

  From where they lay they could see some way ahead the end of the valley which was the Y they had been making for. Both suddenly noticed that while the sun had left them at around six in the evening, it still shone on the mountain on the farther side of the Y. They watched this phenomenon with growing concentration and excitement, for since the sun set in the west, if it continued to illuminate that mountainside late into the evening it must mean that no other mountain stood in its way.

  It was not until nine at nigh
t that the reddish rock streaked with snow fell into shadow. Canessa and Parrado slept that night with the firm knowledge that one arm of the Y lay open to the west.

  The next morning, after their usual breakfast, they started out full of optimism, but once again Parrado drew ahead, spurred on by his curiosity to see what lay at the end of the valley. Canessa could not keep up. Little of his strength had returned with the night’s rest. When Parrado stopped and turned to call him to hurry, he shouted back that he was tired and could not go on.

  ‘Think about something else,’ said Parrado. ‘Distract yourself from the walking.’

  Canessa began to imagine that he was walking down the streets of Montevideo, window shopping, and when Parrado called to him once again to hurry, Canessa replied, ‘I can’t hurry. I’ll miss some of the shop windows.’ Later still he distracted himself by shouting the name of a girl Parrado had once told him he liked: ‘Makechu … Makechu …!’ Her name was lost in the snow which lay all around them, but Parrado heard and smiled and waited for his companion.

  They walked on, and slowly the sound of their cushioned feet on the snow, which had been all that broke the silence, was superseded by a roaring noise which grew louder and louder as they approached the end of the valley. Panic entered the hearts of both of them. What if an impassable torrent now blocked their way? Parrado’s impatience to see what lay ahead now took complete possession of him. His pace, already fast, quickened and his strides grew wider over the snow.

  ‘You’ll kill yourself!’ Canessa shouted after him as he drew ahead, yet he too was possessed not so much by curiosity as by dread of what they were to see. ‘Oh, God,’ he prayed once again, ‘by all means test us to the limit of our endurance, but please make it humanly possible to go on. Please let there be some sort of path by the river!’

  Parrado walked faster and faster still. He prayed too, but above all he was obsessed with curiosity. He drew two hundred yards ahead of Canessa and then suddenly found himself at the end of the valley.

  2

  The view which met his eyes was of paradise. The snow stopped. From under its white shell there poured forth a torrent of grey water which flowed with tremendous force into a gorge and tumbled over boulders and stones to the west. And more beautiful still, everywhere he looked there were patches of green – moss, grass, rushes, gorse bushes, and yellow and purple flowers.

  As Parrado stood there, his face wet with tears of joy, Canessa came up behind him, and he too exclaimed with happiness and delight at the sight of this blessed valley. Then both boys staggered forward off the snow and sank onto rocks by the side of the river. There, amid birds and lizards, they prayed aloud to God, thanking Him with all the fervour of their youthful hearts for having prised them from the cold and barren grip of the Andes.

  For more than an hour they rested in the sun, and as if it were indeed the Garden of Eden the birds they had hardly seen for so long perched close to them on the rocks and seemed quite unalarmed by the extraordinary apparition of these two bearded, emaciated human beings, their bodies padded out with several layers of filthy clothes, their backs humped with knapsacks, their faces cracked and blistered by the sun.

  They were confident now that they were saved, but they still had to press on. Canessa picked up a stone from the ground to give to Laura when he returned, and both threw aside one of their cushions, keeping only one each to sleep on. Then they started down the right-hand side of the gorge. Though there was no snow, the going was not easy. They had to walk on rough rocks and climb over boulders the size of armchairs. At midday they stopped to eat. Then they continued, and it was not until they had walked for another hour that Canessa realized that he had lost his sunglasses. He remembered immediately that he had taken them off and put them on a rock while they were eating their lunch, and loath as he was to walk back in the direction they had come, he was still more afraid that without the glasses his eyes would become as burned and blistered as his lips. Thus, while Parrado lay back to wait for him, Canessa retraced their steps to the spot where they had eaten. He reached it in less than an hour but, while recognizing the place itself, he could not remember on which among a hundred boulders he had put his glasses. He began to search and as he searched he prayed, for nowhere could he find what he was looking for. Tears of despair started to pour from his eyes; he was tired and desperate – until at last, on a tall rock whose top had hitherto been hidden from view, he saw his sunglasses.

  Two hours after leaving Parrado, Canessa rejoined him, and both immediately continued their journey. A little farther on, however, and they were brought to a halt by an outcrop of rock which rose almost sheer in front of them and fell away precipitously into the river on their left. From where they stood they could see that the ground was more even on the other side of the river. Rather than scale the obstacle in front of them, therefore, they decided to ford the river. That in itself was no easy task. It was twenty-five feet wide, and the current flowed with such force that it carried huge boulders with it. Still, there was a rock in the centre of the stream which was large enough to withstand the current and high enough to stand out above the water. They decided that they could cross by leaping from the bank onto this rock and from the rock onto the opposite shore.

  Canessa went first. He took off his clothes to keep them dry, tied a nylon luggage strap around his waist, and two other luggage straps to that. Then, while Parrado held the other end in case he fell into the river, he leapt onto the rock and then from the rock onto the other bank. Parrado, when he saw that his companion was safe, took the sleeping bag, tied it to the luggage strap, and threw it with all his force to the other bank. There Canessa untied it and sent back the strap so that their clothes, sticks, knapsacks, and shoes could be thrown across in the same way. It took great effort to throw the knapsacks that distance and the second fell short, crashing against the rocks by the side of the river. Canessa had to climb down to the water’s edge to retrieve it, getting soaked by the spray, and when he unpacked it he found that the bottle of rum had been broken.

  Parrado now joined him, but since so many of their clothes were wet they walked only a little farther. Finding an overhanging shelf of rock, they decided to camp under it for the night. The sun still shone and they laid out their wet possessions to dry. Then they settled back on their cushions and ate some meat, watched by a large number of curious lizards.

  That night was warmer than any thus far. They slept well and in the morning set out on the eighth day of their journey through the Andes. In the light of morning the view ahead – even to eyes less hungry than theirs for the fruits of nature – was of unsurpassed beauty. Though they were still in the shade of the great mountains behind them, the sun illuminated the farther reaches of the narrow valley, tingeing the green of the gorse and cactus plants with the silver and gold of mist and light. There were now trees to be seen in the distance, and in the middle of the morning Canessa thought he saw a group of cows grazing on the mountainside.

  ‘I can see cows!’ he shouted to Parrado.

  ‘Cows?’ Parrado repeated, blinking into the distance but seeing nothing because of his shortsightedness. ‘Are you sure they’re cows?’

  ‘They look like cows.’

  ‘Maybe they’re deer … or tapirs.’

  What they saw before them had in any event so much the appearance of a mirage that no exaggerated expectations were placed on those distant beasts. But it meant that their spirits remained strong and optimistic just at the time when their bodies – above all, Canessa’s – were suffering increasingly from the effort that had been demanded of them. The horizon might be green but the intermediate terrain was no easier than it had ever been; they still had to leap, laden down by their packs, from one wobbling boulder to another, or stride on their frail ankles over the rocks and pebbles on the riverbank.

  Then suddenly they came upon a most tangible sign of civilization – an empty soup tin. It was rusty but the maker’s name – Maggi – could still be read on the
label. Canessa clutched it in his hand. ‘Look, Nando,’ he said. ‘It means people have been here.’

  Parrado was more cautious. ‘It might have fallen from a plane.’

  ‘How on earth could it have fallen from a plane? Planes don’t have windows, do they?’

  There was no way of telling how long the tin had been there, but the sight of it gave them hope, and as they continued down the valley there were other signs of life. They saw two hares leaping over the rocks on the other side of the river. Then they came upon some dung.

  ‘That’s cow dung,’ said Canessa. ‘I told you those were cows I saw.’

  ‘How do you know?’ asked Parrado. ‘Any animal could have done that.’

  ‘If you knew half as much about cows,’ said Canessa, ‘as you know about cars, you’d know that that’s cow dung.’

  Parrado shrugged his shoulders and they continued. Later they sat by the river to rest and eat some meat. They noticed, as they unpacked the rugby socks, that while their food supply remained adequate, it was beginning to suffer from the warmer temperatures. After eating a ration of two pieces, they repacked it all the same and set off yet again down the valley. The river was wider, for every now and then smaller rivulets would descend from the mountains on either side.

  It was here, where the river widened, that they found a horseshoe. It was rusty like the soup tin, so there was no knowing how long it had been there, yet it was not something that could have fallen from an aeroplane but in-controvertible evidence that they were approaching an inhabited area of the Andes. More evidence followed. As they rounded one of the many outcrops that jutted out into the valley, they suddenly came within a hundred yards of the cows that Canessa had seen from a distance that morning.

  Even now Parrado was cautious. ‘Are you sure they aren’t wild cows?’ he asked Canessa, staring at the cows, which stared back at him.