Extreme Survivors: 60 of the World’s Most Extreme Survival Stories. Collins Maps
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entered a delirium of thirst, pain and hopping. Then he somehow realized he had to discipline himself. He would pick a landmark and give himself half an hour to reach it. This galvanized him into action. When he missed his target he sobbed with frustration.
He found himself scrabbling down a muddy ice cliff that he remembered from the way in. By now he was falling with every hop. But he had stopped screaming at the frequent stabs of pain. There was no one to hear him, so what was the point?
He became obsessed with getting to Bomb Alley that night and its stream of life-giving water. In his near-madness he stopped timing his landmarks and lost track of his route. Eventually he dropped to the rock and slept.
Camp
Another day had brought Simon’s strength back. He didn’t want to leave, but knew that they had to. Richard went down the valley to find the donkey driver and instruct him to come for them in the morning.
Another night
Joe had a bad night. He had deteriorated to the point where he could only pull himself along with his arms. The pain was at a new level of intensity. Three days and nights without water had maddened him. But somehow he made it to Bomb Alley where he drank until his stomach ached with the cold of the water, then he drank some more.
Gradually he felt his strength returning. He restarted his time targets. A strange, disembodied voice kept urging him onwards. He found Simon and Richard’s bootprints in the mud and felt the buzz of being nearer to them.
Joe Simpson, writer and climber.
Suddenly he was at the first lake, a beautifully clear pool with green shadows. Beyond was a second smaller lake and behind that were the tents. But now he was reduced to just shuffling along backwards on his bottom. He still had to climb up the moraine wall that dammed the water. What if the tents weren’t there when he got to the top? Could the world be that cruel?
Another night fell and he crawled on through it. The voice told him he had to. But he lost track of where he was. Surely he should be at the camp by now? Or was he back on the glacier? Were these cactus spines digging into him? Grass? Should he sleep here?
His nostrils flared at the sharp smell of what could only be shit. He must be close to camp! He only had to stand up and shout – if they were still there…
‘Simon!!’
He couldn’t lift his head to see if his cries had been heard. But now there were scuffling noises, a light, voices – not his – and then a light dazzled him.
‘Joe?! Is that you?!’
Mule journey
Joe had reached camp just a few hours before Simon and Richard were due to leave with the donkey. If they had, he would have had no chance.
After an agonizing two-day mule ride they made it to Cajatambo where they hired a truck to take them to Lima.
Joe’s leg was yellow and brown and swollen as thick as his thigh all the way to the ankle. Purple streaks showed haemorrhaging around the knee and ankle where it was broken. He had lost 19 kg (3 stone).
After two days waiting without painkillers in hospital while his insurance company sent clearance, he was finally operated on. Joe needed six operations on his knee. The doctors said he would never climb again and that he would have a permanent limp. After two years of rehabilitation, he was back on the mountains. All subsequent climbers have avoided the North Ridge and rappelled back down the face.
The Miracle of Stairway B
| WHEN THE 110-FLOOR NORTH TOWER OF THE WORLD TRADE CENTER COLLAPSED ON 11 SEPTEMBER 2001 IT BROUGHT HALF A MILLION TONS OF STEEL AND CONCRETE AVALANCHING TO EARTH. SOMEHOW, A FEW FLOORS OF A STAIRWAY IN THAT TOWER AVOIDED TOTAL DESTRUCTION. AND WITHIN THAT TINY POCKET, SIXTEEN PEOPLE SURVIVED THE CATACLYSM. |
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| DATE: 2001 SITUATION: TERRORIST ATTACK CONDITION OF CONFINEMENT: TRAPPED IN THE NORTH TOWER OF THE WORLD TRADE CENTER ON 9/11 DURATION OF CONFINEMENT: 102 MINUTES MEANS OF ESCAPE: GOOD FORTUNE NO. OF ESCAPEES: 16 DANGERS: FIRE, CRUSHING, ASPHYXIATION EQUIPMENT: THE FIREMEN HAD TOOLS AND EQUIPMENT; THE OFFICE WORKERS HAD NOTHING |
At approximately 9.59 a.m. the South Tower of the World Trade Center collapsed after being hit by a plane.
Caught in a catastrophe
It was 10 a.m. on 11 September 2001, and Pasquale Buzzelli, a 34-year-old structural engineer, was still in his office on the 64th floor of the North Tower of the World Trade Center. The South Tower had collapsed just moments earlier after burning for fifty-six minutes. He was on the phone to his wife who was seven months pregnant and watching the horror of 9/11 unfold on TV at home in New Jersey. Pasquale told her not to worry. He was about to head down Stairwell B with a dozen colleagues. There was no smoke. He’d be fine. He put the phone down, slung his briefcase over his shoulder and led his team to the stairs.
The narrow stairs were crowded, so they could only move slowly. It took them twenty-eight minutes to walk down forty-two floors.
Then, as Pasquale reached the 22nd floor, he felt the building shake. The concrete stairs beneath his feet lurched like a ship’s deck in a storm. He heard thuds, as if heavy objects were being dropped somewhere high above. The thuds got louder, really quickly. Instinctively he dived into a corner as the walls buckled and folded on top of him. Oddly, he felt himself in free fall, and then the blackness swallowed everything.
A good turn
Captain Jay Jonas and five of his fire crew were on the 27th floor of the North Tower when they heard a sickening rumble. The staircase swayed and the lights flickered off and on. Jonas’s radio crackled and a captain from another company told him that South Tower had just collapsed.
Jonas immediately decided to evacuate his men. The North Tower had been the first building to be hit by a plane. If the South Tower had just fallen, they couldn’t have long to live. He didn’t tell his men why they were going, he just got them moving. Despite each man carrying close to 45 kilos (100 lbs) of equipment, they set a fast pace down the stairs.
They ticked off seven floors in a few minutes and were at the twentieth when they ran into Josephine Harris. A car had hit the 59-year-old book-keeper just a few months earlier, injuring her leg. Harris had already hobbled down fifty floors and was now moving pretty slowly.
One of Jonas’s men asked what they should do. He knew that if they continued down she would be left to struggle on alone. If they helped her, they would be risking all their lives.
‘We got to bring her with us,’ said Jonas.
It was a decision that would save all of their lives.
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