National Park After Dark - The Cost of Survival: The Cordillera Huayhuash Reserved Zone (Part 1)

Episode Date: January 5, 2026

High in the Cordillera Huayhuash Reserve of the Peruvian Andes, two British climbers attempt the first ascent of the West Face of Siula Grande. The mountain is remote, unforgiving, and lethal to mistakes. After reaching the summit, a catastrophic accident during the descent forces a decision that places survival and death on opposite ends of a single rope.For a full list of our sources, visit http://npadpodcast.com/episodesFor the latest NPAD updates, group travel details, merch and more, follow us on npadpodcast.com and our socials at:Instagram: @‌nationalparkafterdarkTikTok: @‌nationalparkafterdarkSupport the show by becoming an Outsider and receive ad free listening, bonus content and more on Patreon or Apple Podcasts. Want to see our faces? Catch full episodes on our YouTube Page!Thank you to the week’s partners!Quince: Use our link to get free shipping and 365-day returns.IQBAR: Text PARK to 64000 to get 20% off all IQBAR products and free shipping.Smalls: Smalls New Year’s Special - get 60% off your first order, plus free shipping, when you head to Smalls.com/NPAD.BetterHelp: National Park After Dark is sponsored by BetterHelp. Get 10% off. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

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slash Visit Scotland In mountaineering, more than almost any other pursuit, survival depends on absolute trust. From the moment two climbers leave the ground, they are connected by a single rope that binds their bodies, decisions, and lives together. That rope can save you from falling to your death, but only if your partner is careful, technically skilled, and fully present. Every step requires diligence, strength, and discipline because the consequences of failure are final. climbers train relentlessly to be the best teammate they can be. They refine their technical ability,

obsess over gear, rehearse safety systems, and memorize procedures, all because they understand that their partner's life is literally in their hands. The rope between them becomes a physical symbol of that trust, something sacred, something you protect at all costs.

Because of that, it feels almost unthinkable to imagine a moment when you would intentionally sever. it. But the mountains are indifferent to ethics and attention. In alpine environments, even the most skilled mountaineers can find themselves in precarious situations. One, where saving a partner means risking your own life, and we're holding on just a few seconds longer, could ensure that neither of you survives. In those moments, climbers are forced to confront a question most people will never face. How much would you risk to bring your partner home alive? And where is the line?

we're trying to save someone guarantees that both of you die. Everyone has a limit and a line they can't cross, and the mountains have a way of finding it. Welcome to National Park After Dark. Hello, everyone, and welcome to the first main episode of 2026. Yeah, happy 2026, everybody. We're starting off strong because we're starting with a survival story, and not only is it a survival story, but we're doing a two-parter. start out of 2026. And not only is it a two-part survival story. It is a two-part survival story that has been recommended and wanted for years. Yes. And not only has it been recommended and asked for

years. It's also not in a national park. Oh. Tadda. Okay. Just what everyone wanted. I didn't know this. It's in a reserved zone. Yeah, it's in a reserved zone adjacent to a national park. So technically, it is a preserved area and it has significant ecological value, but it's just not technically a national park. Okay. That's fine. But the story is just too good. The story is too good to not dive into. And it's a pretty popular story. But I for one did not know all the details. And I think what makes the story so interesting is that it's such a conversation starter of what would you do in this situation and a situation that a lot of us will probably never find ourselves in unless you are an extreme mountaineer, which I am not and climbers. But still, it's a great story. Well, it sounds intense. So mine as well start.

Yeah. It sounds like an intense way to kick off a new year. So whether, regardless of if it's in a national. or not, I think it's fine. Yeah. And I think for 2026, we always try to get the hard hitting stories, but for 2026, we're really, we're really honing in on them. We got some hard hitters in line for the next couple of months, I would say. So yeah, we've kind of like evolved a little bit with how we plan out the show because at first it was just totally random and we never have overlapped and we kind of remark about that from time to time about how funny that is. But now we kind of are

more intentional with what stories we tell and when and the cadence of which we do it and why we select certain stories and things like that. So all of that to say this year we have some in mind that are going to be pretty cool. Pretty cool. And I personally, I don't know, when winter comes around, I love a good winter survival story. I think it just, it hits hard. It hits different when you're physically cold listening to it. Yeah. Yeah. So they just hit different for me, which is part of why I wanted to tell this one. Well, I have one. I have one you're going to like. It's cold. And there is survival. Currently cold. If you see me. me on YouTube right now. I put on an actual sweater. And right before this, I started, we have two,

we have two wood stoves. And I started both of them up and I cranked our heat up because I was freezing. Yeah, it's 12 degrees right now. Yeah. It's obscene. I love winter. I love so much. I do like winter. It is my, it is probably my favorite season. It gets up there higher and higher each year. But I am cold and I don't enjoy that part as much. Well, I'm excited to hear about whatever you have in store first. I know, I'm going to say right off the bat for as much as this story has been requested, I know very, very little about it. And I know it's a super popular one, like not only in the outdoor community, but I feel like in general, I think a lot of people know of this story. Yeah. So we're going to be telling the survival story of Joe Simpson and Simon Yates. And if you, if their names do not sound familiar, the book and the movie might. It's called Touching the Void, both of them, have that title. And if you haven't, if you still, still haven't heard of it, we're going to dive into it today. But before we get fully into the story, we'll get into the location that is not a national park, but maybe it should be.

Or maybe we'll be one day. I don't know. So this story takes place in a place that borders Washkaran National Park. We are headed to Cordyra-Ywash Reserve Zone in Peru, a high mountain range in the Andes. that has been protected as a reserve natural area since 2002. In Peru, designated as a reserve zone, is often considered the first step towards national park status, a way of preserving ecosystems and landscapes that are both fragile and extraordinary.

So just because it's not a national park yet does not mean that there aren't pushes for it to one day become one and it does border one. This area was protected with the goal of conserving its high mountain ecosystems and its exceptional scenery, and it's easy to understand why. The range is made up of massive, jagged, snow-covered peaks that rise sharply from glacial valleys. Seven of those peaks exceed 19,000 feet. And for comparison, the entire United States has only one mountain taller, which is Denali, of course, in Denali National Park. The region is also known for his biodiversity. The name Wash Quran comes from Quechua, the indigenous language of the Andes, and roughly transatlese,

and roughly translates to weasel, a nod to the wildlife found throughout this region. More than a thousand plant species grow here, along with dozens of bird species and a range of mammals adapted to extreme altitude. The areas, glaciers, and lakes provide water to communities far beyond the mountains themselves. This region is remote even by Andean standards. The nearest village is roughly 28 miles away, or 45 kilometers, and reaching Lima requires several days by foot, mule, and vehicle through remote mountain terrain. So you can't just drive here. It is very, very, very remote. There are no easy access roads. There's no rescue infrastructure and no quick way out if something goes wrong when you're recreating here. When climbers enter this

range, they do so knowing that they are largely on their own. Among these peaks stands Ciaula Grande, a mountain rising to roughly 21,000 feet. At the time of our story, it had been climbed before, but one side of it remained completely unconquered. It's west face, a steep 4,500 foot wall of ice and snow, had deterred mountaineers in the past, but in 1985, two British climbers, Joe Simpson and Simon Yates believed they could be the first to climb it. And going into who they were, Joe Simpson was born in 1960 in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia, where his father was stationed with the British army. Because of his father's career, Joe grew up moving frequently, spending parts of his childhood in different countries before being sent to boarding school in the United Kingdom. He was one of

five siblings and learned early how to adapt to unfamiliar environments. Joe discovered climbing in his early teens. Initially, it was a way to avoid getting pummeled in school rugby. He's like, I don't want to play rugby. Let me climb. So he did that. But quickly, it became something much more. He realized he had a natural aptitude for it and felt an immediate connection to the sport. His passion intensified after his school organized a mountaineering expedition that he was actually excluded from despite being one of the strongest climbers. The group went on to make a first ascent of a mountain in Pakistan and Joe was left behind. And at first, this rejection devastated him. He was like, I could have been there.

I could have been the first to do this too. Why wasn't I included? but that quickly turned into motivation. He later reflected that if others could not see that he was a natural mountaineer, he would prove it on his own. From that point on, he devoted himself fully to climbing, spending his free time training and his summers in the Alps, steadily building experience and confidence.

Simon Yates was born in 1963 and Leicestershire, England. He studied biochemistry at Sheffield University, but like many climbers of that era, he was drawn to a nomadic life in the mountains. Compared to Joe, Simon came across as more easygoing and lighthearted. Joe admired this about him, noting that Simon seemed to laugh at misfortune as readily as he did, success. So he has a good attitude. Yeah, he's easygoing.

He's like, yeah, this is great, no stress kind of guy. Simon had also witnessed firsthand how unforgiving the mountains could be. In the French Alps, he had seen two Japanese climbers rope together fall to their deaths. The experience left a lasting impression reinforcing the reality that even experienced climbers could be lost in an instant. So good, so good, so good. Everything you want for summer is at Nordstrom rack stores now and up to 60% off. Stock up and save on the brands you love like Vince, Sam Edelman, frame, and free people. Join the Nordy Club to unlock exclusive discounts, shop new arrivals first, and more.

Plus, buy online and pick up at your favorite rack store for free. Great brands, great prices. That's why you rack. Joe and Simon met in 1984 while climbing and Chamonie France. They were part of a larger group and began climbing together when the opportunity arose. They were not exclusive partners, instead climbing with whoever happened to be around, but they quickly recognized that their skills and ambitions aligned. Both were at a point in their climbing careers where they wanted to move beyond the Alps

and test themselves in more remote and demanding ranges. So for them, the Andes felt like the next logical step. Taller and larger than the European Alps, but not yet at the extreme altitudes of the Himalayas, the mountains of Peru offered a challenging proving ground. Over the winter of 1984 into 1985, Joe and Simon worked to save enough money to fund an expedition. In early 1985, they traveled to Peru and made their way into the Cordia-Ira-Wiwash. Just reaching the range was an undertaking. The journey involved long bus rides into remote valleys, followed by days of walking to establish a base camp at approximately 15,000 feet.

And of course, like I mentioned earlier, the nearest village was roughly 28 miles away. At base camp, the scale of the mountains became fully apparent, and it was astonishingly beautiful. Jagged, glaciated peak surrounded the camp, and aquamarine lake shimmered in the distance, fed by the surrounding glaciers. Joe recorded his impressions in his diary, writing that the place felt menacingly remote and exhilarating at the same time. There were no crowds, no helicopters, and notably no possibility of rescue. Just them and the mountains. However, they were not entirely alone. At a rundown hotel in Lima, Joe and Simon had met a traveler named Richard Hawking.

Richard was not a climber and had little experience in the mountains, but he was with traveled and full of stories from his journeys through South America and through Africa. They never invited him to join their expedition, but he was intrigued by their plan, and Richard followed them into the mountains to see all of these beautiful mountains that they had been raving about. Richard agreed to stay at base camp while Joe and Simon attempted to climb, and he would watch over their gear. His presence provided some companionship and a small measure of reassurance, But once Joe and Simon left camp, they would be entirely on their own. But it's also like if they don't come back, they have this guy hanging out at base camp that can alert someone maybe sooner.

And of course, they're going to bring a lot more supplies to base camp than they're going to bring to actually get to the summit of this mountain. They spent roughly two weeks acclimating to the altitude, attempting smaller climbs and exploring potential routes. storms repeatedly forced them to turn back before reaching any summits, but they accepted this as part of the process rather than a warning. With ample food at base camp and time on their side, they waited for a stable window of weather, confident that when the moment came, they would be ready. That moment arrived in early June. On June 4, 1985, Joe Simpson and Simon Yates left base camp with packs heavy with equipment and supplies. They climbed in alpine style, leaving their main tent at base camp and committing to the face with only sleeping bags and minimal gear. Each night depended on digging snow caves into the slope, a choice that saved weight but made retreat difficult.

Richard Hawking walked with them for part of the approach, accompanying them across eastern terrain towards the glacier that marked the beginning of the climb. Before turning back, he took photographs of the two men and joked that if they failed to return, he could sell the images as obituration. photos. Well, okay. We do that all the time. Dark humor we use all the time. And we joke of, especially on our trips and stuff, like if I die, make it a good episode or something like that, you know. I'm like, this would be a great photo if I go missing. Oh, what would be my photo? What would you pick if you went missing? I don't know. I don't know. I don't want a thirst trap photo of me. personally. You have to give it to me.

So I can, I can, you know, distribute it or Al, whoever your emergency contact is. I'll give it to both of you. Yeah, because if you and Al go missing, you need a backup. Yeah, then I need a backup. Yeah. And I feel like if you were to be in a situation where you would go missing, you'd be with Al. Really? I feel like I could be with you, too.

Yeah. We do a lot of traveling. Yeah, I was thinking more of I'll put you more in situations that would be dangerous. Yeah. I get lost a lot, not intentionally. It's like if Danielle and I go missing together, it's not malicious. We just got lost. Yeah.

We're just girls. We're just girls in the world. Yeah. Trying to find our way. Yeah. I'll think about it. I don't know. We had maybe I think mine, you know what my answer is.

which, and it hasn't even happened yet, but I know I'll use it. Okay. So last year for my birthday, well, now, 2024, because now technically it's 2026. We're recording in 2025, but I'm referring to 2024. So it's, it's very confusing. Yes. But Cassie, for my birthday in 2024, got me a gift certificate to have a tin type photo taken at a studio in Massachusetts. And my appointment is on December 30th of this year, 2025.

I really... It's happened very soon. It has already happened if you're listening. Right. But it's also very late from when you gave it to me. Yes. Regardless, I just know I'll love that picture. It'll look old-timey.

I expect myself to be very stoic and scary looking. And that's what I'm like. It's an iconic missing person's photo. It's like, does she want to be found? We're not sure. Like she looks like she intentionally went missing. Yes. So that will be, that's my answer.

And it doesn't even exist yet. I'll give it to you. Okay. Oh yeah. I'll keep that in mind. Okay. It's a good one. It's a good one for sure.

Let the record show. Thirst trap and like a mugshot. Yeah. Victorian mug shop. Love it. And that's our dynamic. Truly. A reflection of us.

Yeah. in a missing person's poster. Okay. So he makes this joke that he'll use these photos to sell us, his obituary, their obituary photos, and then they take off. The approach alone was pretty demanding. They crossed miles of glacial terrain before reaching the foot of the west face. Once on the ice, they roped up, put on crampons, and began the long upward push. From the start, the climbing required total focus.

They had to navigate crevasses that dropped deep into the mountain, unstable snow, and steep ice that offered little margin for error. As they ascended, they settled into a rhythm. Swing the axe, kick the crampons, test the placement, move upward. The repetition was exhausting but necessary, with each movement deliberate and controlled. By the end of the first day, they had made solid progress, and Joe felt increasingly confident.

Despite the altitude, both men felt strong and even matched. The second day was far more difficult. Much of the climbing involved steep ice, required them to drive their axes and crampons into hard surfaces while maintaining balance and conserving energy. As they climbed higher, the air thin dramatically. Joe's heart pounded even when he moved slowly, and every breath burned his lungs.

Being on the west face in the southern hemisphere meant they remained in shade for most of the day and the cold intensified. I'm just thinking of us on our Hawaii trip when we drove, not climbed to the very top of Hawaii Volcanoes National Park. And we were freezing. And it was hard to breathe. Yep.

And just going to the bathroom was hard. Just getting to the bathroom. Yeah. We joked. You know, we've never once been warm on any of our trips. And we weren't going to start in Hawaii. No, not there. Couldn't be there.

I, yeah. And I even was prepared, you know, I brought my jackets and I knew we were doing that activity. Yeah. But even still, it was a shock. It's such a stark difference, though, because at the bottom, it's humid, it's 85 degrees. You're in shorts and a tank top and you're sweating. And you're at sea level. And then suddenly you are at...

13,000 plus feet. It's like 10 degrees. with windshield. Oh, God. I was like, okay. You can't see anything. Okay, let's go. I'm having, oh, great, fine.

It was really cool to be up there. Yeah. Yeah. I'm just picturing them and they're swinging axes and kicking crampons and can't breathe and huffing it. And I'm just like at the top of the mountain with a van and cold. I'm like, I'm cold. I'm going to sit in the van. We sat in the van.

We literally did sit. in the van. Waiting for the sun to come out. We were, all of us, our whole group was like, we're really cool. Let's just sit in the van and wait for the sun to come out. Our driver was like, are you sure? You guys just flew here from all different parts of the world. It's 10 degrees. Take us back to the beach. Oh, I was going to ask something. So would this be categorized as, and I could easily look this up, but type 2 or type 3 fun? I'm going to guess this is type 3. I think so too. I'm not even sure if this was fun at all. Yeah. Yeah. When we get into it.

Maybe at this point it's type, maybe at this point it's type three fun, but I think it makes a dramatic turn to no fun was had. Okay. At all. Girl, winter is so last season. And now Springs got you looking at pictures of tank tops with hungry eyes. Your algorithm is feeding you cutoffs. You're thirsty for the sun on your shoulders. perfect hang on the patio sundress. Those sandals you can wear all day and all night. And you've had enough of shopping from your couch. Done hoping it looks anything like the picture when you tear open that envelope. It's time for a little in-person spring treat. It's time for a trip to Ross. Work your magic. So they're climbing. Progression is pretty slow. The wind picked up and there was

powdery snow that was clinging to their clothes and their face and it was just freezing on them. So Eventually, they had this big layer of ice also while they're trekking through this. And by late evening, they were forced to keep climbing in the dark, searching for a safe place to stop. They did not find one until around 10 o'clock that night, and this was after hours of climbing. By then, the temperature had dropped sharply and both men were exhausted. They dug a snow cave for the night, melted snow for water, and ate their final frozen, freeze-dried meal. Their gas supply was nearly gone. They believed it would be enough to melt snow once more in the morning, and then from there, they expected to reach the summit and descend all the way back to base camp where food, fuel, and shelter waited for them.

Confident in the plan, they turned off their headlamps and slept. When they woke the following morning, they could finally see the terrain they had been climbing in the darkness. To them, it was an Andean nightmare. The snow was soft and unstable, sculpted into deep grooves, fragile overhangs, and wind, form. lips of snow that could collapse without warning and offered no reliable footing. They had heard of these dangerous conditions in the Andes, but neither had ever encountered them firsthand. It was their third day now, and that day brought some of the most dangerous climbing of their lives. The powdery snow made retreat impossible. They were forced to continue

upward through narrow channels where a wrong route choice could trap them beneath impassable walls. Each decision carried the risk of committing them to a dead end with no way down. Despite the hazards, their root choices held. By early afternoon, they reached the top of Westface. They dropped their packs and rested briefly in the sunlight before walking the final distance to the summit. At nearly 21,000 feet, the view was vast and stunning, the surrounding peaks stretching away in every direction. They took photographs and ate chocolate, documenting their success. But Joe, felt a sense of anti-climax. The achievement itself was fleeting. They got to the top. It was amazing. It was incredible. They were the first to do it. But he realized that the most dangerous part

was ahead of them because historically speaking, the dissent is usually the most dangerous. Because at that point, you're the most tired. You're fatigued. Yeah. You just did this huge thing. And statistically, more climbers die on the way down than they do the way up. So they kind of reached a half waypoint and they had already been through so much to get there. It was like, oh, we still have this and then some to get down. As they prepared to leave the summit, they noticed clouds building rapidly to the east and they saw that a storm was moving in. The glacier they planned to descend would soon be obscured by snow and clouds. If they were going to make it down safely, they needed to move very quickly. As Simon began leading them down from the summit, the weather deteriorated far more quickly than either of them had anticipated. pated. Snow started falling steadily, driven by a rising wind that rapidly stripped the landscape of depth and contrast. Within an hour, visibility collapsed into a complete whiteout, erasing the line between sky and ground and turning the mountain into a blank, disorienting void. They stayed roped together and moved with extreme caution. Each man holding the rope in his

gloved hand, preparing to arrest a fall if one of them lost their footing. Progress was agonizingly, slow. Every step required probing the snow ahead, testing whether it support their weight or giveaway beneath them. In places, the ridge narrowed sharply with steep drop-offs on either side disappearing into the whiteness. At one point, Simon moved ahead to scout the route while Joe waited behind. Suddenly, the rope ripped violently through Joe's hands before snapping taut. The unmistakable signal that Simon had fallen. Joe shouted into the wind, his voice immediately swallowed by the storm and waited in mounting dread on shore whether the rope had held or whether he was now tethered to nothing at all.

Several long minutes passed before he heard Simon yelling back and followed the sound. Joe climbed carefully toward him until he found his partner shaken but alive. Simon explained that he had stepped forward and dropped straight through a cornice, unclear what had happened until the rope stopped his fall. Oh, God. Like, so they can't see anything. Nothing. Even to take a one step in front of you and you have to test it to see if you're on stable ground.

You can't see where there's any drop-offs. Simon just fell off the side of a mountain. I didn't know until he stopped falling. Yeah. Yeah. Horrible, horrible conditions. Hours passed with little progress. Night closed in and repeated attempts to dig a snow cave were thwarted by poor snow conditions and failing equipment.

Simon's headlamp flickered intermittently, and when he removed his gloves to try to fix it, the cold quickly numbed his fingers. By morning, several of them would show clear signs of frostbite. That was the one thing in my avalanche class. I remember learning because I, this is something that I really need to work on if I ever find myself in a situation like this is I feel like I'm totally useless when I have gloves on. So I like to take them off to do small things. But really I need to get the like the slip glove to put underneath my gloves or practice doing things with gloves because that was one thing that was mentioned in my avalanche class when I was trying to do something. They were like, keep your gloves on because if you're in a situation like this and you on glove and now your hand is unusable because you're in these frigid conditions, you just, you might have just made a fatal mistake. Yeah.

And I'm like, oh, okay. I like, I'm useless with gloves on. I like, but I'm useless with gloves on. I like truly, truly am. So I need to. Well, just adjust. Yeah, having like a little slip under there. Like small things to do though. Like same thing. He's pressing a button on headlamp when you have gloves on. You can't feel the button. If it's not pressing, it's like, am I doing it? And so for him, that was like, that was a moment where it's like, I shouldn't have done that. Yeah. So going back to the story, they hunker down for the night. He's showing signs of frost. bite already. It's very cold, but eventually they do find shelter, offering far less protection from the wind and cold than they would have liked, but they really had no other option. They melted snow for water using nearly all their remaining gas and rationed what little food they had left, which was chocolate, dried fruit, and a single packet of juicy fruit. Oh, no. What's juice? I'm like, juicy fruit is gum. Interesting choice. They had a single packet of fruit juice, not juicy fruit.

I haven't even thought of juicy fruit in it. So long. Decades. I haven't seen it on the shelves. Yeah. Does it even still exist? Probably. It's got to because bubble tape.

Is that always called? Oh. Still exists. Yeah, I remember bubble tape. Yeah. I do remember it. Well, Joe believed that they had enough fuel remaining to make hot drinks in the morning, and he assumed that by the following afternoon, they would be back at base camp.

Morning arrived with clearer skies, but no real relief. They moved slowly and deliberately, aware that even a minor slip could quickly escalate into something catastrophic. Joe began climbing farther ahead of Simon, gradually increasing the distance between them. At one point, Joe stepped into a hidden crevasse and dropped suddenly before managing to halt himself. He clawed his way back onto solid ground, shaken but uninjured, while Simon watched from behind. The incident only added to their growing frustration. They argued over root choices and pace, irritation sharpening as exhaustion set in until conversation eventually faded into silence.

By late morning, the grim reality of their situation became impossible to ignore. After nearly a full day of effort, they had descended only about a thousand feet. The sun burned against their back, a stark contrast to the storm that they endured the night before, while powdery snow continued to mask hazards everywhere. Joe continued moving ahead, eventually putting roughly 150 feet between himself and Simon. At this point, I'm picturing they're just so mad, so frustrated before they're climbing and hiking in unison and they're just trying to get down. And now they're like, just stay away from me. I need to. Tensions are high. Tensions are high. They're still attached by rope. There's still that safety there, but they're kind of getting away

from each other at this point. They had traveled far enough along the ridge that it was time to descend directly. Joe welcomed the change, hoping that the slope below would finally offer more solid footing. Instead, he found himself standing above a steep ice wall. He searched briefly for an alternate route but saw none, and so he carefully planted his axes and began lowering himself down. He kicked his crampons into the ice, testing each placement before shifting his weight. He drove one axe deep into the wall and held it firmly, then swung his hammer to set a second placement. The sound it made was wrong. He pulled the tool free and tried again, forcing it into what appeared to be solid ice. Satisfied, he removed the other axe and prepared to transfer his weight.

Then there was a sharp cracking noise and the ice failed. Joe was suddenly airborne. He slammed into the slope below with both legs locked, the impact exploding through his body. And he began to and sliding uncontrollably, accelerating towards a steep drop. He screamed as he lost control until the rope snapped tight and reched him into a violent stop. Pain tore through his thigh and knee. When he tried to move, there was a sickening grinding of the bone against bone. He looked down and saw his right leg twisted into an unnatural zigzag. Oh, that's a shape.

You never want to see a body part in, for sure. Especially a leg. Yeah. Your knees just don't really do anything. You know, you get the bend and that's it's one way. And one way only. And zigzag is not that way. Right. Did you say how far the, like what is the distance between them in this rope? I'm just trying to imagine the length of this rope, like how far apart they are. Do you know? They were about like 150 feet apart from each other. Okay. It's a long rope. Yeah. Tears filled his eyes not only from pain, but the immediate understanding of what this meant. Simon appeared above him, having followed the rope once it went slack, and took in the scene quickly. The shattered leg, their position, high on the mountain, and the fact that Joe could no longer protect either himself or his partner from a fall. And nearly the entire descent still lay ahead. They've only made it a couple thousand feet at this point.

And remember, it's a 21,000, they're over, they're above 21,000. thousand feet. They still have to get all the way there. They're still on the face of the mountain. And now he has a shattered leg. Ready to soundtrack your summer? With Red Bull Summer All Day Play, you choose a playlist that fits your summer vibe the best. Are you a festival fanatic? A deep end DJ, a road dog, or a trail mixer. Just add a song to your chosen playlist and put your summer on track. Red Bull Summer All Day Play. Red Bull gives you wings. Visit redbull.com slash bright summer ahead to learn more. See you this summer. For a moment after the fall, neither of them spoke. Joe stood on

his left leg, shaking, staring at the twisted shape of his right knee as nausea rose in his throat, his mind racing ahead to the inevitable conclusion that settled over him with frightening clarity. At this altitude, on this terrain, a broken leg was not something you recovered from. It was something you died from, slowly through exposure, dehydration, and exhaustion. Simon descended, carefully to Joe's position, following the rope once the tension eased, and when he reached him, he took in the scene with a quick practice assessment. The leg was obviously shattered, the knee grotesquely swollen and misshapen, and of course they still had miles and miles of terrain between them and any possibility of help. Joe considered lying. For a brief moment, he thought about

telling Simon that it was not that bad, that maybe it was just a sprain or something he could walk off, but the grinding sensation when he shifted his weight made that impossible. He told Simon the truth. He had fallen and his leg was very clearly broken. Joe watched Simon's face change as he processed what he was seeing. There was a flicker of pity there and something else Joe recognized immediately, a kind of emotional distancing. The look people give when they believe an outcome is inevitable.

It terrified him. He knew Simon was thinking the same thing he was thinking, that there was no realistic way to get an injured man down from this mountain without putting both of their lives at risk. Simon said very little. He gave Joe a couple of painkillers and began working through the problem in silence. They were no longer two climbers moving together towards a shared goal. They were now in a survival scenario where every decision carried the potential to end both of their lives. Joe leaned heavily on his ice hacks as they began moving again. Simon breaking trail, while Joe limped behind trying to suppress cries of pain each time his knee twisted or caught in the snow.

Neither of them spoke about the obvious truth hanging between them, that the fastest and safest way for Simon to survive would be to leave Joe behind. Joe was acutely aware of his own vulnerability and found himself afraid to ask for help, as if speaking might push Simon towards the decision that he feared most. After more than two hours of painfully slow progress, Simon finally asked him. Joe how he was holding up. Joe told him he felt slightly better, though the words rang hollow even as he said them. With effort, he acknowledged what they both knew, admitting that he could not see how he would make it down the mountain on his own. Simon did not respond directly, but instead focused on the terrain ahead where the slope steepened and the only viable route down involved a series of repels. They stopped and discussed a plan. Simon would dig a bucket

seat into the snow, carving out a crude but functional anchor that he could brace himself in while lowering Joe down the mountain. Once Joe was lowered as far as the rope allowed, Simon would then climb down to meet him and they would repeat the process. It was an improvised solution, risky and exhausting, but it was the only option that they could think of that offered any chance of survival for Joe in particular, but was the safest option for also Simon to try and help him out as well. They tie their two 150-foot ropes together to create a longer line, knowing that the not joining them would not pass through the belay device. This meant that halfway through each lowering, Joe would have to take his weight on his good leg while Simon unclipped the rope, reset the device,

and clip it back in. It was one of the most dangerous moments of the entire process, as any slip during the transfer could send both of them plunging down the mountain. When they began the first lowering, Joe tried instinctively to keep his feet from touching the snow, an unnatural position that left him swinging awkwardly as Simon controlled the descent from above. Whenever his crampons caught or his injured leg twisted unexpectedly, white-hot pain shot through his body and he struggled to keep from screaming. By the time he reached the end of the first rope, his entire body was trembling. As Simon adjusted the rope at the knot, Joe balanced precariously on his left leg, digging a seat for Simon to use when he came down. Despite the pain, a surge of hope ran through him. In a

short span of time, he had been lowered far more quickly than he ever could have descended on foot. For the first time, since the fall, it felt possible, however remote, that he might actually make it off the mountain alive. They repeated the process again and again, descending steadily despite the deteriorating weather around them. Clouds rolled in, the wind strengthened, and the temperature dropped, but they pressed on, aware that stopping meant exposure without food or a reliable way to make water. They were running on borrowed time. As darkness approached, Simon increased the pace of the lowering, trying to get them down as

quickly as possible. The faster Joe moved, the more violently his injured knee was jarred against the slope, and several times it twisted backwards with a sickening crunch that made him sob in pain. I'm surprised he hasn't passed out. Me too. I feel like at this point he's running on pure adrenaline. Yeah. It's like this is my life every time. I feel like there's just so many shots of pain and adrenaline and like this is your only way of survival. Also trying to keep Simon in mind too. You know,

he's digging these bucket seats for him so he can climb down, sit, re-anchor himself, re-repell, you know, like Simon's doing a lot. The most. The most. Yeah. He just took on a huge job. And I think also everything that Simon's doing, it just paints a picture of how good of, a climber he truly is as well to have all of these techniques and yeah it shows cases his ability as a climber and to work under immense pressure and decision making and all that yeah and it seems like he wasn't even saying too much either he's just like okay let's this is the plan let's do it and was just kind of going through the motions and trying to get him out yeah where he easily could have been like wait here i'll come back for rescue even though that i say that easily he could have done that

That would have been a death sentence, essentially. So he was, it sounds like he was doing his best. So his leg twists and makes this horrible crunching sound. And he is sobbing in pain. And he shouts up to Simon to slow down. But his words were torn away by the wind. It was so windy that Simon couldn't hear anything that he was saying or hear him crying. Simon, for his part, had begun to shut out.

Joe's cries entirely. And it wasn't out of cruelty. It was just out of necessity. He's like, I know you're in pain, but we got to go. It was a survival technique. So he kind of just, even if he did hear him crying, he wasn't really paying much attention to it. His fingers were going numb from the cold as he held the rope. And he knew that if he slowed down too much, they might both be caught on the face overnight with no shelter and no water.

Speed, however brutal it was, felt like their only chance. Because they still have to find shelter. They're on this ice face. It's like we can't stay here for the night. It's dark. Weather's getting worse. We got to go. Joe dug another seat in the snow as Simon prepared for what they both believed would be one of the final dissents.

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Your next obsession is waiting. Watch only on Prime. As Simon began lowering Joe once more, Joe sensed immediately that something was wrong. Instead of being eased down the slope in a controlled descent, he began to slide, his body accelerating as the angle beneath him steepened and the snow hardened into slick ice. He tried instinctively to slow himself, dragging an axe and then a cramp on, but neither found their spot. And when he shouted up to Simon to stop, the wind tore the sound away before it could reach him. Within moments, the ground disappeared beneath his feet altogether, and his body swung outward into the empty space before his rope caught, and he was lowered over and

overhang. So at this point, his rope just caught right after he goes over this big snow lip overhang. And now he's just hanging there while snow pours over him from this overhang. And he's slowly spinning on this rope and just hanging midair. This is like reminiscent of your lightning strike episode. Yeah. Yeah, a little bit. Just that position of just hanging. And I think wasn't that guy deceased that you were talking about? Or maybe he lived later. I don't remember. It's like years ago. Well, there was the upside down. That's what I'm thinking of. He lived. Okay. He was alive. Yeah, so he's just hanging here and the ice face is, it feels like it's almost close enough to touch, but he just can't reach it. So he also can't re-anchor himself either.

Okay. Below him, the crevasse opened into darkness. It's, depth impossible to judge. And when Simon continued lowering him unaware of what happened, Joe descended further until he reached the knot tying the two ropes together. The rope jerked three times. The signal Simon used for Joe to take his weight off the line so the belay device could be reset. And Joe felt a surge of disbelief and panic as he realized there was nowhere for him to stand, no ledge, no slope, nothing but open air. So Simon doesn't even realize yet. He's like, all right, reset, you're good because he's over this overhang, which I imagine for Simon, kind of like made the rope tight there and took the brunt of that fall. So he didn't feel the tug, the tug from where he was because this overhang kind of caught on it.

And now he's just hanging there. And Simon's like, all right, do your thing. Like, we're almost there. And he's just hanging midair with nowhere to go. And no way to communicate his predicament. Yeah. And obviously he can't undo the rope. Right.

Right. Because he's hanging in the middle of the air. From above, Simon could feel Joe's weight still pulling steadily at his harness and assumed that his partner was struggling to regain balance or carve a stance. So he waited, giving him time to sort it out. Hanging in the cold, Joe understood that there was only one option left to him. He would have to climb back up the rope. Under normal circumstances, it would have been a simple maneuver,

using the loops that they have. A lot of ropes have those little loops that you can just grab onto and each spot has to hoist yourself up. To hoist yourself up and you can put your feet in them and stuff. And this was something he had done countless times, but his hands were now numb. And of course, he only has the one leg and he's tired. He's fatigued. So he fumbled for the first loop and fought to attach it to the rope.

His fingers were refusing to work and minutes passing as he forced the non. into place with a combination of effort, frustration, and his teeth when his grip failed him. When he reached for the second loop, his finger slipped and he watched helplessly as it dropped away, tumbling silently into the blackness below and vanishing from sight. Wait, what did he drop? He dropped, so he's attaching these loops. Oh, okay. That he can climb up and he just dropped one of them.

Okay, okay. In that instance, he knew that his last chance of climbing back up had disappeared with it. He slumped on the rope, exhausted, shaking, and acutely aware of what this meant for both of them. If he could knock it off the rope, Simon would eventually lose his grip or be pulled from the collapsing snow seat above, and they would both fall. The only question left was how long would it take for it to happen. Joe screamed into the wind, cursing the mountain, his shattered leg, and the absurd cruelty of the timing, but there was nothing more that he could do. He hung there, suspended between ice and darkness waiting. Above him, Simon sat in the bucket seat he had carved

into the slope, feeling the full weight of Joe's body dragging relentlessly at his waist as the snow beneath him slowly compacted and crumbled. His hands were numb, his legs trembling with exhaustion, and communication was impossible. He waited, trying again and again to think of a way to pass the knot through the belay device, but every option collapsed under the reality of the terrain and his fault and his failing strength. Minutes stretched on, then longer still, and as his feet began to slip, and the pull of his harness grew more insistent, the realization settled over him with brutal clarity that he could not hold Joe indefinitely, and he could also not haul him back up. If he stayed tied to him, it was clear now that they were both going to die. He reached into his pack, found the knife,

and struggled to open it with stiff fingers. The metal, briefly sticking to his lips as he freed the blade. He placed it against the rope and applied pressure, and the line parted instantly. The sudden release sending him sprawling back into the snow as the weight vanished from his harness. He lay there for a moment, stunned, staring at the severed end of the rope, knowing that he had almost certainly just killed his climbing partner. Below, Joe felt the rope snap free and for a fraction of a second, experienced nothing at all before gravity reclaimed him, and he dropped into the void beneath the overhang. Simon listened, straining for any sound, carried back up the face, any shout, any impact, any sound at all.

But nothing came. There was no movement, no voice. And in his mind, there was only one conclusion. He had just killed his friend. As the silence stretched on, Simon became aware of everything else all at once. The mountain beneath his feet, the cold creeping deeper into his numb hands, and the weakness settling into his legs. He was still high on the face, night was closing in around him, he was alone now, with no rope below him and no clear way down. And little did Simon know, as he left his position to find an alternative way down and left Joe behind, that Joe had landed and survived the fall.

But with Simon abandoning him and Joe left alone at the bottom of a crevasse is where I leave you all for this week. And we will pick up next Monday to find out what happens to the two of them. Wow. Well, I'm on the edge of my seat. That is intense. That is so intense. Wow. Yeah.

I can see why this is so highly requested. Yeah. It doesn't get more serious than, making a life or death decision for not only yourself, but for a friend or family member or someone you're with, you know? So. Yeah. But when you're sitting there and you're losing your footing, you're on a, you're on ice

face. And it's like we're either both going down or one of us is going down. It's just the no. And I know there's no communication possible. It's just the decision of like, well, this has to be done. And just kind of the assumption that or hope that this other person would understand that decision because they're very well aware that it's the only one to be made. Yeah.

Like, I just, I think I would at least, I'm not trying to be in his head or anything, but in my mind, I envision myself if I'm in his spot just being like whispering, like, I am so sorry. And maybe he did. Yeah. Maybe he did. You know, I've just like, God, I please forgive me. And I think in that moment, too, it was almost a survival moment where he, it was almost

an out-of-body experience where his mind was like, the only way you're going to survive is if you get rid of this rope attached to you. So I feel like it was almost this out-of-body experience where he grabs the knife. He unsheaths it and he just holds it again. And the rope was so taut that it just snapped under the pressure of a knife. Like it's not like he had to saw it or anything like that. It was just like he held it up, pushed against it and it just. And, oh, wow. Well, Unlike the rest of you suckers, I can hear part two very soon because we're recording it now. Now. Cool.

Okay, I do just to end on like a, just something to, I couldn't help but think about it when you're explaining this story because it has clearly were set in the space of the land of crevasses. Do you remember a time not so long ago? I sure do. where baby Danielle and baby Cassie thought that crevices and crevasses were just different ways of saying the same thing. I do. We're like, yeah, it's like pecan or pecan, tomato, tomato. What? Yeah, you can hear that full episode.

I think it was your Denali episode. It was like our third episode we ever did. And you guys continued to listen to us after that. Yeah, you did. And that's your fault. Yeah, that is your fault. Life is about growing. Look how much we've grown. I know. And that's why I wanted to say it, not just to poke fun at ourselves, but even though that is fun to do from time to time. It's very humbling. You know, you have to look back at where you came from, back in the crevice. To really. In the crevasse, you know. Yeah. And we have persevered. And to be clear, he's in a crevasse, not a crevice. Right. Which we know now. And you know as well if it wasn't made abundantly clear before. I just remember someone correcting us very politely.

They're like girls. Which is very nice of them. So nice. In today's climate, we would have been burned at the stake. And maybe rightfully so. Yeah. Okay. Well, I will see you, Cassie, in like 20 minutes.

Everybody else. We'll see you next week. And the meantime, enjoy the view. But watch you're back. Bye, everyone. See ya. Thank you for joining us again. week. If you love National Park After Dark and want to hear exclusive bonus stories, join us on Patreon

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