Where are you, friends?

Sharply contrasting all happy nature feelings, we sometimes get an unnerving reality check on the risks involved with loving the outdoors. Here follows the story of what happened last Monday.  

Hope turning into worries
Late Sunday afternoon, feeling exhalted after a perfect climbing day at the remote valley of Cochamo, Claudio and I arrived back at camp. To find it empty. Javier, Jennifer, and Lucas hadn't returned from their climb at the Amphitheater yet. And neither had they at nightfall. Nor at midnight. Which got our worries growing, especially as none of them were weather worn mountaineers. Leaving a thermos flask of hot water and food at their tents, we set our alarm for six am, hoping our friends had merely had an uncomfortably long day. A few hours of sleep later, a quick check confirmed our fears: their tents were empty, the food untouched. To fully understand our concern, you need to know Chile is no Europe. There are no rescue services to call. From here it was up to the two of us.  

Just the two of us
After a quick breakfast, we scavenged everyones backpacks for as many calories, sugars, and instant soup as possible. Throwing in extra warm clothes, a first aid kit and the rifugio's emergency radio, we braced ourselves and started on the 2.5 hour hike up. But with the path not always marked we got lost twice in the dark, losing valuable time. Luckily, soon enough the first dayligt made finding the trail easier. Plus we finaly found a sign telling us we finally were on the right track. While walking we had a quick run through all options, possible decisions, and emotional responses. Which wasn't a very nice thing to have to do, but necessary all the more.  

From worries to fears
As we exited the forest and stood in full view of the amphitheater, we found Lucas' hiking poles slung to a tree at the trail entrance. Meaning our friends were not lost in the forest, an option we had in a macabre way hoped for, but still somewhere at the towering rock face. More bad news followed at a viewpoint. Javier, Jennifer, and Lucas were nowhere to be found. Not on the climbing route they had set off for, and neither on the - different - descent line. I guess that was the point when conversation ceased. Unspokenly, we were both thinking the same. It had been light for at least an hour and a half. Even after a forced night on the rock, they should have been on the move by now. But we could not spot anyone climbing or descending on the wall. If they had managed to rappel by themselves, we should have met them on the trail. With fear squeezing our throats and hearts, we quickly scrambled up the dry riverbed. For fifteen very long minutes of listening and watching the wall. Only finding silence and grey granite.  

Life signs
When we hit the base of the rock, Claudio went ahead to the descent line, as we had agreed upon earlier. Fifty more meters uphill, and then, out of nothingness, we heard Javiers distant voice. He still was somewhere up there, and talking to someone else! Shouting back and forth, we finally spotted Javier's helmet popping out from behind a rock the size of a train station. All three of them were alive and doing well, things considering. Our friends were very high up, far off route, and unable to rop out to the mountain summit. And consequently were not able to reach the rappel anchors. But with them they still had both ropes and gear for protection. After a last, unsuccessful ascent attempt, they were trying to find an alternative - yet uncharted and unbolted - line of crack systems down. Knowing most climbing accidents happen when people make their way down, and mentally adding they would probably be cold, dehydrated, hungry, and tired, Claudio and I were still on edge. As it would be hours before they'd arrive at the bottom of the rocks, we ate a little, wrapped ourselves in our down jackets, and settled against a rock to catch up on some much needed sleep.  

32 hours later
On the wall, progress was understandibly slow. And most importantly, without major problems. Around 2.30 pm, 32 hours after the unfortunate three had left camp, our friends finally got down. To solid ground, food, rehydration liquids, and a huge hug. To our great surprise and relief their spirits were still resilient. So after we had all recovered a little from the physically and emotionally straining events, we started our hike down. I can't even begin to explain how relieved I was when we all got to camp, tired but safe. Where we could relax and eat loads of hot food. Plus the remaining chocolate eggs. It was Easter after all.  

I have more stories to tell about the past two weeks, but I needed to get this one off my chest first. Thanks for reading. And be safe, whatever you're up to.