The Mammoth Book of Mountain Disasters

by MacInnes, Hamish

  DR RAIMUND MARGREITER

  Aeroplanes repeatedly circled over us dropping messages: “Hang on, only another five miles, the whole of Kenya is praying for you.”

  We were moved by this, the sympathy of a whole country. In the late afternoon we reached the main camp, where Gerd met his father who had organised the whole operation so magnificently. The further journey by jeep to the airstrip at Nanyuki, the flight to Nairobi, and the medical operation had all been well prepared and thought out beforehand.

  A farmer took Oswald and Ruth in his four-wheel-drive car through the mud to his farm in the plains. Here, for the first time in ten days, the doctor relaxed. Next morning they got the good news that Gerd had been operated on in Nairobi and that he still had his leg!

  Robert Chambers considers the rescue in retrospect. It is the summing up of a modest man.

  ROBERT CHAMBERS

  We would have been faster if we had decided on the North Ridge from the start: but then it would have been harder to believe we could ever get Gerd off the mountain that way and we might have given up. We would have been faster if we had never relied on the cacolet stretcher; but we did not know till we tried. Gerd would have been off quicker if we had called out the Austrians at the start; but it never occurred to us then that a team could come all the way from Europe. Jim Hastings the helicopter pilot would not have died if there had been no rescue bid, but in the event he did not die in vain, and there was no way there could have been no rescue. That was fate. The balance sheet in lives, at the end, was one for one, and it could easily have been worse. But to count lives seems wrong. Some things just have to be done. What I see now, and did not at the time, is how much we owed to the Austrians. If they had not come, I believe Judmaier would have died on the mountain, quite likely with some of us. His father expressed gratitude to us, but we should also thank him; for he and the Austrian climbers released us from the rescue, and perhaps in turn saved some of us.

  The last words are with Oswald:

  Ten years later we celebrated Gerd’s “tenth anniversary” with a superb climb in the Tirol. The previous evening we enjoyed both the wine and the company of our girlfriends. It was an anniversary to remember.

  High Winds in the Andes

  Hamish MacInnes

  Acclimatisation is possibly the greatest single factor involved in accidents on the world’s highest mountains. If the members of the casualty’s climbing party can be deployed, well and good, but if the rescue party has to come from much lower, the rescuers themselves are put at considerable risk from pulmonary or cerebral oedema, in addition to the danger of moving on difficult ground when suffering from mountain sickness.

  This rescue story is from Chile, along the border with Argentina, on a mountain called Ojos del Salado, at 6,885 metres (22,590 feet) the second-highest peak in the Americas and the highest active volcano in the world.

  I first heard about this accident from Bob Lyall, an expatriot Scot now living in Santiago. Bob is one of the prospecting bosses of the Anglo-American Corporation and has an avid interest in mountaineering. He called in at my home in Glencoe when on holiday in Scotland in 1985, and was telling me enthusiastically about a great volcanic complex he discovered when poring over NASA photographs taken from space. The company use these photographs for studying terrain with possible mineral deposits. The year before they had used them for a grimmer purpose. Bob told me the story.

  It was in April 1984 when Louis George Murray visited Chile to see the Anglo-American projects at first hand. Louis was a geologist and a senior executive in the company, based in South Africa. He had a passion for the wide open spaces of the world and a talent for photographing them.

  Both Louis and Bob Lyall were suffering from bad backs at the time, legacies of countless miles in four-wheel-drive vehicles over rough and roadless terrain. With this in mind, Bob arranged for a helicopter to take Louis round the various projects in the mountains to the east of Copiapó, which is some 800 kilometres north of the capital, Santiago.

  As Ojos del Salado was such a fascinating geological phenomenon, Bob suggested that it should be included in the itinerary as it could be overflown after a visit to Esperanza, which is the most northerly of the company’s prospecting camps. The helicopter chosen for this flying visit was a Lama belonging to Helicopters Andes, a company whose pilots have vast experience of high-altitude work. César Tejos, an ex-Commander of the Chilean Air Force in Antarctica, was to be their “driver”.

  When César was asked if it would be possible to overfly Ojos summit with the helicopter, he consulted his tables and told Bob and Louis that it would be feasible with two passengers and a minimum supply of fuel, although a landing was out of the question. Even if a landing had been on, it would be unwise to leave the aircraft as anyone could collapse within a few seconds if suddenly deprived of the Lama’s oxygen supply at that height.

  Bob Lyall and Louis Murray started their inspection of the prospecting camps on 14 April and the following morning a pick-up truck was sent with Tomás Vila to Laguna Verde, a lake close to the mountain, with fuel for the Ojos flights. That same day the helicopter left Esperanza camp with Robert Schnell, Enrique Viteri, Louis and Bob on board. The mechanic was left at the camp to monitor the helicopter radio frequency.

  Just after 8.00 am they located the pick-up at Laguna Verde and, after refuelling, Bob and Roberto set off on the first recce flight. Conditions were perfect and the Lama climbed high over the arid terrain, which is really the southern end of the Atacama Desert, and without trouble circled the summit twice and angled back down to the emerald-green lake. Though the weather was superb with clear, windless skies, it was confirmed that a landing on the summit was out of the question as the temperature was – 15°C, comparatively mild for the end of the South American summer.

  In order to keep the helicopter as light as possible, it had been decided that Louis would do the second flight alone with César, and they took off at 10.20 am. The others at the edge of the lake watched the helicopter diminish in size until it was a mere speck in the azure sky.

  When the Lama hadn’t returned by 11.30 am they became worried, especially as they had no radio contact with the helicopter from the pick-up. At midday Tomás and Enrique drove west a few miles to get a better view of Ojos, but by 2.00 pm they returned having seen no sign of the Lama.

  Bob Lyall had thought there was an outside chance that some minor mechanical fault had developed and César had considered it safer to return to the camp and his mechanic, rather than go back to Laguna Verde. So there was only one course left, to go to Esperanza, about 120 kilometres, to see if the helicopter had returned there. Once more Tomás and Enrique climbed into the pick-up and set off, while Bob and Roberto took up temporary residence in the old abandoned Chile-Argentina frontier post, constructed in natural caves by Laguna Verde.

  At 4.00 pm the pick-up arrived at Esperanza and after speaking with the mechanic, who had had no radio contact with the Lama either, they realised that the helicopter was indeed missing. Santiago was then contacted and Helicopters Andes confirmed a First Stage alert with the National Search and Rescue Organisation of the Chilean Air Force. Some of the fittest personnel from the camp were mustered and arrived at the carabineiro post about 7.00 pm. Following in their tracks on the long dusty road, which climbs to over 15,000 feet, were other essential supplies and equipment: radios, food, bedding, generator, flares. Word arrived that a Cheyenne aircraft as well as the helicopter company’s second Lama (Kilo Alpha) would depart Santiago 6.00 am next day to assist them. About to commence was the highest search operation ever conducted in the Americas.

  On any rescue operation, especially in big mountains, there can be confusion and false leads to follow and eliminate, wasting valuable time. Such was the case for the ground party, led by Enrique Viteri, which set off to reach a mountaineers’ refuge at 16,700 feet (5,100 metres), on the lower slopes of Ojos del Salado. This was a logical move, for one can’t always rely on air search, espe
cially at high altitude, and it was assumed that had the helicopter made a forced landing and the two men survived, they would have headed towards this known place of shelter. For to spend a night in the open without special clothing at such a height would be courting disaster. On the first flight with Bob and Roberto, César had pinpointed the yellow-painted refuge.

  However, Enrique’s party had trouble finding the hut in the dark. Previous parties had driven up there with four-wheel-drive vehicles, choosing whatever route took their fancy over the dunes, with the result that the place resembled a twin-tracked maze. It was not until they had radioed Eduardo Olmedo, a mountaineer who knew the area well, that they managed to locate the refuge at about 9.00 pm. On the way one of the party reported a white flare to the south-east.

  Various flares were set off in reply, but there was no response to these. There was further confusion when the flares which they had fired were in turn reported as from the missing helicopter.

  The white-flare sighting (it was established later that this must have been a shooting star) spurred the Ojos rescue team into setting off up the mountain from the hut at 10.00 pm. It was full moon and below them the vast expanse of open country was broken only by the white heads of the mountains. Laguna Verde lay in the shadow of a hollow between hills. They reached a height of 20,300 feet (6,200 metres) by dawn and searched into the next day, Sunday, without success.

  As promised the Cheyenne fixed-wing plane arrived in the area at 8.00 am, but base at Laguna Verde had no direct communication with it. From the mountainside Enrique could make indirect contact by first radioing the Andes Lama helicopter, which was now airborne and heading up the narrow torso of Chile to Copiapó en route for the mountain. This way he could relay messages from base at Laguna Verde, where Bob Lyall and other members of Anglo-American were still ensconced in the subterranean guard post. The Cheyenne pilot was Pablo Pfingsthron, a man with 29,000 flying hours behind him and the co-pilot Jorge Lathrop, Director of Helicopters Andes.

  Bob asked them to check out craters and fumaroles in the summit area, just in case they had landed safely and Louis’s fascination with geology and photography had lured him to these features. The Cheyenne searched the summit area until its fuel was getting low then returned to La Serena to fill up. In the afternoon it again quartered Ojos, but still they didn’t see any sign of the missing Lama, although false hopes were raised when they spotted red-jacketed figures on the mountain, to be dispelled when walkie-talkie and radio contacts established that they were, in fact, Enrique’s team.

  The Chilean Search and Rescue organisation were meanwhile deploying a Twin Otter and another Lama from the base at Antofagasta. Commander Heinrich was in charge of the official SAR and he asked José Miguel Infante, Helicopters Andes Operations Manager, to co-ordinate with him. But as José arrived in Copiapó in the company Lama ahead of the SAR group he refuelled and carried on to Laguna Verde where he touched down at 4.00 pm and managed one search mission before dark, covering the ground between the summit and Laguna Verde.

  That Sunday night the rescuers got into their sleeping bags somewhat despondent and there was another false report of a flare, this time on the north side of Laguna Verde. The old frontier post was busier than it had been for years and the twin caverns echoed with the plans of the rescuers. Mixed teams of company men, carabineiro and police were selected to search on both sides of the border, but the Argentinian authorities would give permission only for civilian teams, so the next day an Anglo-American Company contingent under Tomás Vila was to cross the border to search the south-eastern flank of the peak. The police and army were ordered to Laguna Negro Francisco on the other side of Ojos to commence search operations there.

  Up in the refuge the hope which the Anglo-American party had felt the previous night had now, after an exhausting day’s search, been replaced with a numbness. They realised that Louis and César would have to be very lucky to be still alive. Their own situation was one of acute frustration. Though they were used to working at 14,000 feet or so, the extra altitude was telling. Acclimatisation is essential and in normal circumstances should be attained by slow degrees, not by a relentless push to over 20,000 feet. Every step had been an effort, yet colleagues in distress are a compelling incentive. However they could do no more good on the mountain and returned to base.

  The next day, a Monday, was a day which the aircrews of the Ojos del Salado rescue won’t forget. It was a day of high wind and turbulence.

  José was airborne first in the Lama, with Enrique as observer, and checked out the wild country to the north and north-west of Laguna Verde. It was in this region that the flare had been reported the previous evening, but they found nothing. By 8.00 am the SAR Twin Otter started on its search pattern, while José in the Lama was on his second patrol of the day. Both aircraft were still operating within Chilean territory, but by 11.00 am permission came through to overfly Argentina and José immediately swung over the divide to concentrate his efforts on the south side of the mountain. Flying conditions were appalling – the prevailing westerly winds, warmed by their passage over the Atacama Desert, stream over the chain of high peaks which form the border, to descend in the notorious “mountain wave” on the Argentinian side. The turbulence behind the mountains was terrific, and José had to use all his skills to keep the Lama flying. At one point they were hurtled downwards at 4,000 feet per minute, and José wrestled the machine south towards the broad flat expanse of the Salina de la Laguna Verde, contemplating a forced landing, while Enrique radioed their position to Bob at base. However, conditions improved a little, and, all possibility of a systematic search having gone, José concentrated his efforts on solving their own predicament, and gradually worked his way back until he managed to slip over a pass some fifty kilometres west of Ojos del Salado, into the welcoming rising air on the Chilean side of the mountains, to angle back to base at Laguna Verde, exhausted by the tensions of what he later described as the worst experience of his flying career.

  The press can be a mixed blessing on any protracted rescue. Often they get in the way, jam switchboards vital for communications and get the facts wrong. In all fairness, however, they often do good by publicising the plight of rescue teams in dire need of donations. On the Ojos del Salado rescue, however, the common radio frequency chosen by the SAR authorities for the emergency was Anglo-American’s 7790. Once this was known, the frequency was monitored by radio hams and also by a broadcasting station. So Bob’s contact back to the mining camps as well as SAR information was monitored and sent out for public consumption.

  A report was made to the local Intendente in Copiapó that a helicopter had landed at approximately 11.00 am on the 14th close by Cerro El Gato, about 150 kilometres south-west of Ojos. Those at base were somewhat sceptical about this sighting, for it was doubtful if the missing Lama had sufficient fuel to get that far. Also the same helicopter had been working in that particular area a week previously. The sighting could have been confused. Nevertheless, after José’s narrow escape that day such a possibility couldn’t be discounted, for there was a stock of helicopter fuel at Aldebarán camp and José had spotted a pass which led there via Laguna Negro Francisco, which could provide a bolt hole for an aircraft in trouble. The Argentinians were now in action using a Hercules as a spotter plane crammed with observers. They had also a couple of Lamas standing by should they have any positive results. Help was now coming from all quarters and patrols were out to the north and west on the mountain, as well as Tomás Vila’s group on the Argentinian side.

  More oxygen for use in the Lama and climbing equipment arrived that evening, which meant that the Anglo-American party which was going back up Ojos now had better gear to tackle the upper regions of the mountain, and this time instead of using the Ojos refuge as an advanced base they pushed up higher and set up camp at 20,300 feet (6,200 metres).

  On the Wednesday Bob Lyall returned to Santiago, leaving Enrique in charge on the spot, and he asked his second in command, Iain Thoms
on, to arrange photographic coverage of the mountain. Bob felt that studying enlargements might give them the best chance of locating the missing helicopter. This is a sound idea provided one can ensure comprehensive coverage from enough angles. For it is notoriously difficult and tiring to concentrate on searching what is often a hypnotic landscape in turbulent conditions from the air.

  The photographic flight was set in motion but ran into such turbulence that most of the photographers spent the time being violently sick, and took two days to complete their assignment.

  Meanwhile the Anglo-American party which had camped high on Ojos was not faring so well. One of the team was a small agile geophysicist and surveyor called Carlos Perez and I was later to observe his ability as a natural mountaineer. Carlos’ nickname in the mining camps is Darling, a word which he frequently uses to supplement his limited English vocabulary. With five colleagues Carlos had set off from their tents at 20,300 feet in an attempt to gain the summit. Now at 10.30 am and a height of 21,000 feet, only one other member of the party was fit to go on. The others had succumbed to altitude sickness. Above, after negotiating a difficult section on rock and ice, his remaining companion fell victim to sickness and exhaustion and Carlos told him to return to camp.

  At 5.00 pm Carlos reached a cairn between the two summits and saw, close by a section of disturbed snow, a small weighted company pennant which Louis had prepared to jettison on the summit as they flew over. The objective of his climb was to search the summit and also to look down the east side, but due to a ferocious wind and driving snow he couldn’t get to the eastern summit. He put the flag in his pocket, and decided to return to their high camp, but didn’t reach this until 11.00 pm, so exhausted that he had to be carried the last few hundred metres to camp by his companions, who had heard him call for help. The temperature on the summit that day was –20°C.