It was a sunny Labour Day Monday when Amanda Termeer and her climbing partner Ben decided to tackle Mount Rae in the Rocky Mountains.
Little did she know it would be a day she would never forget.
Amanda tumbled about 30 feet down the mountain, and rolled with about 200-lbs of rock.
Her injuries were significant and she feared the worst, until a stranger from Vancouver Island came to her rescue.
Here is an account of what happened, in Amanda’s own words (unedited):
Mount Rae alluded us for the entire season. We nearly attempted the summit countless times, always greeted by a sign that said, “Warning. Do Not Enter. Grizzly Activity.” The hiking trails leading to the summit approach were also plastered with the face of a 45 year old mountaineer who had been missing for months.
When we finally found ourselves on the scree slog of Mount Rae, we were met by brutally cold winds and a light frosting of snow. I felt over-trained and exhausted. This was my 25th mountain of the season.
As usual, when we reached the technical portion of the scramble, I found my second wind. I flew up the mountain, route-finding for Ben.
We found ourselves taking a technical approach to the summit and decided to head back down to the scree slog approach for the sake of safety. There were double chutes that allowed us to abseil towards the conventional route. We were about 20 minutes from the official summit.
I chose the eastern chute and Ben headed towards the western one. Our plan was to briefly separate and meet at the scree slog.
I carefully lowered myself down a gigantic slab. I checked the slab prior to lowering myself down it to determine if it was steady and it appeared deeply ingrained with the mountain’s infrastructure.
When I was lowering myself down, the ~200 pound slab came loose. I realized I was falling with it. I was rolling down the ~70 degree mountain with a boulder that outweighed me, my head and body slamming against the hard rock on the chute’s apron.
I eventually stopped sliding, a distance that Ben estimated to be 30 feet. I stumbled onto my feet, completely disorientated. I looked at my hands and saw that they were covered in blood. I touched my face and head, my hand returning to my line of (double) vision with gushing red blood dripping onto the ground.
In my head, I was screaming Ben’s name. Ben told me later that he heard an enormous crashing noise and then saw me sitting on the ground, completely dazed. There was blood splattered along my 30 foot tumble.
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When Ben came into my line of vision, I mumbled, “Am I alive? Am I paralyzed?”
I was hit with a wave of undifferentiated pain. My entire body was in agony. I started screaming and hyperventilating. I could not separate the pain to any specific point of my body. (It’s similar now, actually. I’m on a strong dose of oxycodone).
Ben’s eyes were wide and I could tell he was holding back tears, “We are getting you down this mountain, I am not leaving you here.”
“Is it bad, Ben? How bad are my injuries? Will I be okay?”
He said, “I don’t know. Let’s get you down.”
“I don’t want to die.”
I focused downwards, on the steep, rocky terrain. The footing was unstable and would have been a challenge without my injuries. I was leaning against rocks and trying to maintain my balance. After a few steps, the world started fading away and I could see stars.
In my mind, I said, “No. You can’t black out. If you lose consciousness, it’s over. I don’t want to die.”
I wanted badly to walk down the mountain, but it seemed impossible.
The pain was hitting me and the left side of my body was nearly immobile. My neck was stiff and I feared broken vertebrae. I was unable to lift my shoulders and my leg was shooting pain. My left toes were numb. Although I was wearing merino wool layers and a rain jacket, the strong winds and cold temperature (close to zero) was causing me to shake uncontrollably. Despite my bulldog determination, I knew descending the peak was outside of my range of current capabilities.
Ben gave me his jacket and left me at the side of the mountain, “I’ll come back for you. Try to stay warm.” My blood was caked on his face.
He disappeared behind the ridge. I was alone and it was starting to snow. I was in an exposed area about 10 000 feet in the sky. The Northern wind was tormenting me.
I kept meditating on the idea that, “Pain is good. It means that I’m still alive.”
While waiting on the side of the mountain, I knew that if Ben was unable to find help, he would have to descend Mount Rae. From the parking area, he would have to drive about an hour before he could get cell reception. This process could take hours and hypothermia and shock were likely to occur. I focused on my breathing, but every inhalation caused extreme pain. I found solitude in my despair.
About 45 minutes later, Ben ran over the ridge, followed by two hikers. He bolted back to my location, “These hikers, they have a special satellite system. If we press the button, it will cost $1700, but emergency services will be told our location without 2 feet and you will be rescued.”
I started screaming, “Press the button, press the button.”
The hikers, one from Vancouver Island, the other from Edmonton, were old college friends. “Van” had daughters my age and started throwing layers on top of me. He gave me cheese buns and had a very positive attitude throughout the situation. He told me that I was now his “mountain daughter” and that I should visit him on the Island one day.
“Ed” went to the peak, hoping that the satellite button was working.
Van and Ben kept me warm and about 1.5 hours later, the helicopter arrived. A wilderness expert was lowered from the helicopter. He stabilized my leg and put a vest around me. Then we flew above the mountain, dangling in the sky by a thin rope, to the ambulance waiting below. The medical crew was amazing. They IV’d me up and started morphine treatments immediately. They kept me immobilized on a spinal board with a full neck brace.
I had a great conversation with the paramedic, who also used to work as an accountant. We both reminisced about the misery of office life.
When she cut off my clothes to check my injuries, she commented on my Sanskrit tattoo, which was similar to her own. Everyone that I encountered along the way encouraged me to keep mountaineering.
The paramedics and rescuer told me that I’m a tough girl. I’d love for my career to go in the direction of wilderness rescue one day. They were amazing people and I felt an immediate connection to the outdoor enthusiasts who rescued me.
In the hospital, the MD ran a plethora of tests. It was determined that I had a concussion and hairline fractures on my collar bone and fibula. CT Scans and various x-rays revealed no significant brain or spinal damage. The MD was amazed at how strong my body was, how I was able to walk away with hair line fractures. My body is bruised and sore due to my dance with the boulder, but I am determined to make a full recovery. Before the accident happened, Ben gave me the idea of bagging 100 peaks before my program ends in 2014. I liked that idea.
I’m already 1/4 there.
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