Real Survival Stories - Dangling off a Granite Cliff: Teenager Runs for Help

Episode Date: May 1, 2024

Two rock climbers - father and son - embark on an epic adventure in the Idaho wilderness. But as they work their way up jagged ridges and towering cliffs, little do they know how far their bond will be tested. When dad David Finlayson is critically injured, young Charlie will face a situation well beyond his years. He must save his father’s life, then strike out for help alone… A Noiser production, written by Joe Viner. For ad-free listening, bonus material and early access to new episodes, join Noiser+. Click the Noiser+ banner to get started. Or, if you’re on Spotify or Android, go to noiser.com/subscriptions If you have an amazing survival story of your own that you’d like to put forward for the show, let us know. Drop us an email at [e-mail] Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

You're a podcast listener, and this is a podcast ad heard only in Canada. Reach great Canadian listeners like yourself with podcast advertising from Libsyn Ads. Choose from hundreds of top podcasts offering host endorsements or run a pre-produced ad like this one across thousands of shows to reach your target audience with Libsyn Ads. Email bob at libsyn.com to learn more. That's B-O-B at L-I-B-S-Y-N dot com. It is Wednesday, August the 19th, 2015. Idaho, USA. Dawn is breaking over a vast swathe of alpine backcountry,

ominously named the River of No Return Wilderness. As the sun crests a jagged ridge, golden light pours into a valley. The shadows roll away, revealing pine-fringed lakes, scree slopes, and granite cliffs. High on a remote hiking trail, a lone figure darts between wind-bent evergreens, hopping over branches and puddles. Thirteen-year-old Charlie Finlayson is on a mission, and he won't rest until it's complete. His boots skid over loose stones as he stumbles around corners. Tucked into his shirt pocket is a folded piece of paper, scribbled note it details the location of his tent on the shore of the lake where his father lies bleeding every so often charlie stops to peer along the

path looking for anyone who might be able to help the park seems deserted he hesitates is he doing the right thing every step takes him further away from his dad, further into the unknown. But it really just came down to desperation. It's not a choice, right? It's not a choice of sticking around, because that just is going to lead to death for him. I might be able to help him with some small things, but it won't keep him alive. Charlie carries on, scumbering along the trail. He just hopes he finds someone

before it's too late. Ever wondered what you would do when disaster strikes? If your life depended on your next decision, could you make the right choice? Welcome to Real Survival Stories. These are the astonishing tales of ordinary people thrown into extraordinary situations. People suddenly forced to fight for their lives. In this episode, we meet Charlie and David Finlayson. In the summer of 2015 they're on a rock climbing adventure in the mountains of Idaho. It's an opportunity for father and son

to spend some quality time together. Little do they know how far that bond will be tested. I had my 13 year old with me and I needed to get him out. I confessed I didn't think I was going to make it out. I thought that I was going to bleed out before we could get me out. With David critically injured, Charlie will face a situation well beyond his years. He must strike out for help alone before his father succumbs. I don't really want to be on my own. I don't want to leave my father,

who has up to this point been such a source of protection and guidance for me. He's alone. He might bleed out if I'm not with him helping to take care of bandages or something like that. But I do need to go find help.

I'm John Hopkins. From Noisa, this is Real Survival Stories. It's mid-August 2015. David and Charlie Finlayson are in the Salmon River Mountains of Idaho. They are hiking along the edge of a deep, tree-lined canyon. 52-year-old David walks out in front, listening to the soft crunch of his teenager's footsteps. As they approach a bend in the trail, David glances back. Charlie's round, freckled face is tilted up towards the granite domes in the distance, his eyes wide with wonder and trepidation.

David smiles and snaps a photo. He wants to capture every moment he gets to spend with his son. These days, they feel increasingly precious. Charlie was in school up in Boise, Idaho, where his mom lived, and I was a trial attorney in Salt Lake. And so that was sort of our situation. I would see him at least once a month where I would go up there or bring him down to Salt Lake. And I was pretty busy.

I was also doing some projects in the Congo and Africa and down in South America. So I was traveling a lot, but always found time for Charlie and me to hang out together. But it was a pretty busy, busy time in both of our lives. Living so far apart isn't easy. But at least they have a shared passion they can always return to. A passion that's been nurtured since the day Charlie was born. The great outdoors.

He took to nature like I did. That was apparent from the time that he was young. And it's been a very important part of our relationship to be out in nature together. He's been in the jungles of Peru and Panama and Costa Rica with me, to mountains from Alaska to Washington, to the Northwest, to, you know, all through the Rockies. And he has always enjoyed,

well, I don't know if he would say he's always totally enjoyed all of our adventures and trips, but he's always enjoyed being out there with me. I've enjoyed having him with me through those adventures. Charlie's feelings about these trips are perhaps slightly more complicated. It's funny. I always had a little bit of reservation going on the adventures with my father, but it was never because of our relationship. I always felt very close with him, but I knew he was going to really push me. I knew

that I was going to be kind of terrified when I went with him. I don't know, kind of in a way that maybe wolves have a connection with their pack leader. It's like you follow them wherever they're going to go, even if you don't like it at first, but you know that it's going to be a good adventure right now charlie is on his summer vacation and david has brought him on a two-week rock climbing adventure here in the frank church river of no return wilderness area it's a two million acre reserve of forests mountains canyons and whitewater rivers as they hike deeper into the backcountry, the only signs of civilization are a few empty campgrounds. Their target is Ship Island Lake, or rather, the amphitheater of walls, domes, and spires

that circle it, a climber's paradise called the Bighorn Crags. I had wanted to go into the Bighorn Horn Cracks for some time because I had seen photos of it. It's really a sort of an unclimbed area, wilderness area, and I had wanted to go there for some time. We talked about some different places to go and decided on this Big Horn Cracks in the ironically called the River of No Return Wilderness. Two days into their trip, Charlie and David reach the ranger station at the Big Horn Crags trailhead. Luckily, the two volunteer rangers are at home, which is not always the case.

Up here, they'll often rotate to different cabins and trailheads through the week. They inform the Finlayson's that a group of hikers recently passed through on their way to the crags. Otherwise, Charlie and David should have the place to themselves. They refill their canteens and continue along the trail. After a 13-mile hike, the Finlayson's finally reach Ship Island Lake and its intimidating cirque of granite peaks. They set up their tent on a grassy bank. As they hammer in tent picks, Charlie glances up at the sawtooth ridge line

over a thousand feet above them. And so there was a lot of excitement, but at the same time, I was definitely nervous going into something where, you know, I'd climbed with my dad before, but it had never been an experience of real, you know, multi-pitch mountaineering or climbing big mountains that no one has ever really touched in that way, you know. Charlie and David spend the next two days exploring new routes up the crags. This is Charlie's first taste of big wall multi-pitch climbing but he's rising to the challenge charlie was really excited he was

climbing really above his certainly above his age level he did great and we were having a great time by the end of day two the finlayson's feel ready to step things up. As the sun dips behind the range, David points out a pair of colossal towers set back about a mile from the lake. Twisted spires looming above the evergreens. Either would be bigger than anything they've attempted so far, but Charlie feels up to it. They settle on one and agree to give it a crack.

The following morning, Monday, August 15th, David and Charlie rise early. To reach the rock face, they first have to cross a large boulder field. It's a steep, mile-long stretch of rubble. Tough going. But 40 minutes later, they reach the wall. It's a steep, mile-long stretch of rubble. Tough going. But 40 minutes later, they reach the wall. Despite its size, in dawn's pale light, the cliff doesn't appear too technically challenging. It's not completely vertical, maybe 70 or 80 degrees.

There also seem to be plenty of cracks for their pegs and anchors, as well as small ledges and places to rest. The Finlaysons strap on their helmets, tighten their harnesses, and start climbing. David goes ahead, while Charlie belays. To do so, he uses a device called a grigri, a semi-automatic braking mechanism. It means that should David fall, Charlie won't have to catch him unassisted. By pulling down with his brake hand, an internal locking system will automatically stop the rope. A wise precaution, but not foolproof. If Charlie were to mishandle the rope or accidentally release the brake line.

David forges on, agile and expert. He climbs horizontally away from Charlie before ascending vertically, another vital safety precaution. It was important setting up the anchors where Charlie would belay me to make sure he wasn't below me as I was climbing because when you're climbing areas that haven't been climbed there's always a possibility that might kick a little rock off or something even a little rock can be pretty dangerous coming down so I would anchor him way off the route and then I would have to make my way back to the route and then climb up and then I would find an anchor off the route again. All morning, the Finlayson's make headway up the wall,

one pitch after another. By midday, they've arrived at a narrow ledge about 1200 feet up, not far from the summit. The ledge is a few meters wide, a rocky outcrop covered with moss and scrub, as well as a single, stunted, windswept tree. David gives the trunk a few sharp tugs. It feels sturdy enough. He anchors both Charlie and himself to the tree. Then he gives his son a reassuring smile before traversing to his left across the cliff face. Alone on the ledge, Charlie tries to relax his grip on the Grigri, letting out a foot of rope at a time, giving slack. David's about to begin his vertical climb now. Charlie keeps one eye on his dad, but his attention keeps going back to the tree, which now looks alarmingly frail.

Could it really hold both their weight? I was just staring at this tree, right? I'm belaying him, I'm supposed to be looking at him, but I'm kind of just staring at this tree, like, if something happens, I'm going with this tree, right? Now, it was pretty secure, but it just, when I was a kid, I was always like, are you sure about this? Charlie suppresses his nerves. He looks over at his dad, who has come to a stop. David is now maybe 20 or 30 feet up to his left. So we're getting pretty close to the end of the climb where we're going to top out this wall and be able to walk off. But he can't figure out where to go, right?

And I'm looking above him, and I don't see anything. It seems like kind of a sheer wall from here on up. So he's looking around. He can't really see a way to get up. And I glance up at him. He's doing well. I look down back at the tree, and then I hear a yell. Charlie whips his head around just as two fallen objects rush past him. One is his dad, arms flailing. The other is a boulder the size of a refrigerator.

In a flash, they vanish from view. I think what probably happened was a boulder fell from above, hit him and knocked him and the piece of rock that he was on off the wall, right? Sheared off the rock he was standing on. And as soon as I looked and saw that, I just jumped down and kind of like hunkered down and tightened the rope.

Charlie throws his body against the rock face and pulls down hard on the brake line, activating the locking system, preparing to absorb his father's fall and hoping the tree holds fast. Charlie opens his eyes. He's still anchored in place on the ledge. His knuckles are white as he keeps the rope tight against the Grigri's brake. Twisting around in his harness, he tries to look down the wall,

but the clumps of vegetation block his view. His father is somewhere below, dangling on the rope. Charlie calls out. No response. He tries again. Problem is, I can't see him at all because there's that bush in the way. And I can't hear him. He's not saying anything. He's just kind of dead weight on the rope at this point.

Without thinking, Charlie's lips start rapidly forming words. A prayer. Something that both parents have really taught me is a connection with the divine. My mom and dad in Idaho have always taught me to connect with God. We go to church and we believe in God. And my dad has always supported that with his, he believes that God is very connected to us through nature. And so that was my next step, honestly, was a lot of prayer. I prayed hard that he was alive and that he was safe. And honestly, I prayed that I could keep it together. I was 13. And as far as I know, he was decapitated hanging on this rope.

There's little more Charlie can do from where he is. Time seems to spread out. Eight minutes have passed now since David fell. Eight minutes of not knowing whether his dad is dead or alive. I remember just sitting there. I wasn't quite sobbing. I was crying, but I knew if I started sobbing, I'd fall apart. I would lose it. And I knew it was crucial to just keep my wits about me. And so I was crying, but I was just kind of trying to calm myself down and say, we're going to get through this. As long as he's still alive,

we'll make it out. Right. You're a podcast listener, and this is a podcast ad heard only in Canada. Reach great Canadian listeners like yourself with podcast advertising from Libsyn ads. Choose from hundreds of top podcasts offering host endorsements or run a pre-produced ad like this one across thousands of shows to reach your target audience with Libsyn Ads. Email bob at libsyn.com to learn more. That's b-o-b at l-i-b-S-Y-N dot com. It's about 12.30 p.m.

Forty feet below the ledge, David hangs in the air. He's motionless, slumped in his harness, resting against the steep rock face. His left arm dangles limply, torn from its socket and fractured from the shoulder all the way down to

the wrist. His badly dented helmet shows the signs of a bone-crushing impact, an impact he was lucky to survive. Blood gushes from a deep wound in his left leg. David's eyelids flutter as he slowly regains consciousness. When I first woke up, I couldn't move. I was just in intense pain. There was blood running all the way down the cliff wall, and so I figured out that I still had my leg, but it was crushed from my foot all the way up to my knee, and I was missing the tissue, I guess.

The only way to explain it, I was missing all the tissue in the front of my leg and the bone was just sticking out. Through the blinding pain, incoherent thoughts flare, then fade. He can hear something, but struggles to make sense of it. He leans back on his harness and peers up the bloodstained wall. A voice. Charlie. David shouts back to let his son know he's alive. There is a small lip of a ledge just within reach. It's less than a foot deep. But somehow, David manages to shuffle onto it

and take his weight off the rope. When he is more secure, he yells up to Charlie to send down the first aid kit. Blood is pouring from his leg. He needs to act fast. He lowered the first aid kit down to me and I kind of got a tape tourniquet on my leg, at my knee, and tried to slow the bleeding down. Obviously didn't have the use of my left arm or my shoulder or my left leg, but I had my right. My right arm wasn't too damaged. And so I got a tape tourniquet on my leg. David knows he was struck by a falling boulder, but he can't remember much more than that.

Was it something he did, a mistake he made, or just a freak accident? I don't know if I dislodged something above me, but the boulders, you know, Charlie told me the boulders that he saw going down the wall with me were as big as me. So I don't know exactly how those dislodged, whether I dislodged them they I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time but I got hit pretty hard the tourniquet seems to be helping but he's already lost a lot of blood coupled with the blow to his head David is weak and struggling to focus it's only a matter of time before he loses consciousness when does, Charlie will be all alone. For a moment, David just sits there, paralyzed by despair. The next thing that I had to do was figure out how to get Charlie down and me. And I just was not sure how we were going to do that. We were 1,200 feet up a cliff wall. I mean, I could barely move,

and how we were going to get Charlie down and me down, I was trying to figure that out. It was not in a good frame of mind because I was thinking, you know, this is it. I don't know how I'm going to make it all the way down this wall, all the way back to camp, all the way back out. So it was a rough time waking up to that whole situation. Back up the rock face, Charlie hears David call to him again.

Instructions. He needs to rappel down. Charlie swallows hard. I'd never really rappelled. I think in Boy Scouts I had done it once, but I'd never set up a rappel and then had to trust my own, you know, your life's in your hands. If I let go or if something happens,

if a bee stings me and I freak out and I lose the grip of the rope, I drop 1,000 feet, right? Charlie shuffles his feet backwards and leans over the ledge. Cautiously, he starts feeding the rope through his fingers. Finally, he reaches David. But any relief is quickly wiped out. First thing I saw was a giant gash on his face and his helmet was destroyed, right? So something hit him pretty hard in the head.

For a climbing helmet to be obliterated like that takes a pretty big hit. And his face is just bleeding. His arm was completely destroyed, right? His left forearm was just broken. All of the flesh off of his left shin was gone. So that was, again, the biggest worry, I think. If he bleeds out before I can find any help, he's going to die. And that was the biggest problem, was that shin was bleeding like crazy.

David is still just about lucid enough to help Charlie come up with a plan. They're on their own. Neither of them has a cell phone. With no signal out here, it wouldn't make much difference anyway. Their only option is to get themselves down. Or rather, Charlie is going to have to get them down. Pale and trembling, the 13-year-old nods as his dad tries to talk him through it. They'll need to set up a series of anchors in the wall to take their weight. Then Charlie will lower David down one rope length at a time. And he's like, all right, you've belayed me before. It's going to be like that, the opposite, right?

You're just lowering me from above and just go slowly, right? Charlie had never been in a situation like this, obviously. And so he really got things together. He really got himself together and said, hey, okay, I can do this. And we started making our way down. Charlie rigs up the first belay and begins lowering his dad through the first 70 meter pitch. The wall is extremely steep, but it isn't a sheer drop, which means David is sliding and scraping his way over every inch. He would lower me pretty slowly because I was in pretty intense pain and I didn't want to totally lose consciousness I would black out a little bit on the way down and I needed to keep some of my wits

about me in order to get us out. Charlie peers down watching as his dad passes out limbs falling limp before a jolt or a bump wakes him up again. It takes an hour to set up every pitch because I'm lowering him so slowly, right? I lower him maybe a meter at a time, and then he has to take a break and maybe black out, maybe keep his consciousness, but regain the ability to lower again. Because every time I lower him a meter, it's just excruciating pain for him.

Every time his heel touches, every time his arm touches the rock. As for David, the black spots in his vision are coming thick and fast now. In his waking moments, he begins to think it might be better for Charlie to just get himself down safely than go for help. I do recall having a conversation with Charlie where I told him, look, the next time I pass out, you just tie me to the wall and make your own way down, make your own way out, and get out and get some help, because I didn't think that there was any way I was going to be able to make it all the way down.

And he just refused. He refused to leave me but as the sun sinks beyond the opposite ridge and darkness descends david's condition worsens in a way charlie is already on his own that's where i really kind of started freaking out because up until that point i had his his brains to work with. And once he started saying stuff like, I think you can walk off from here, and we still had a whole pitch left, like a whole rope length that we had to lower, I started getting worried. It's kind of me alone here having to deal with him at least tonight, because he's losing it for tonight. As the last rays of light

are chased out of the valley, Charlie keeps his concentration. One final belay and they're down. The skin on his right hand is blistered and raw, but again, he lets the coarse rope slide through his clenched fist

as he lowers his father the remaining 70 meters before rappelling down himself. He's done it. They're back on solid ground. But there's no time for celebration. David sits slumped at the base of the wall. He's delirious and shivering violently, his body temperature plummeting as a result of the blood loss. They're at the edge of the boulder field they crossed earlier, the mile-long stretch of rubble leading down to the lake. There's no way they can make it back to their camp in the dark.

Charlie props his dad up against the wall and races to the tent to collect provisions. When he gets back, he wraps David in a sleeping bag and moves him onto a patch of mossy ground. Lying side by side, they spend a sleepless night under the stars. I was in a lot of pain. I was counting stars and constellations, trying to maintain consciousness. And I knew I had a bad head injury and it wasn't a good idea to pass out and I may never wake back up. Tuesday, August the 16th. As color washes into the dawn sky, the Finlaysons assess their situation.

The tourniquet on David's leg is holding, and though weak and in terrible pain, is coherent for the time being. In his condition, navigating over flat ground would be hard enough, but over the mile-long sweep of boulders, it seems near impossible. Charlie, though, is convinced that getting the two of them back to camp is essential. The lake will provide fresh drinking water and he can clean David's wounds. Ultimately, David is in no fit state to be calling the shots. He heaves himself into a sitting position. Then, clinging onto his son, using his good arm and leg,

he begins to shuffle forward over the first boulder, the first of many. There was many times that day where I just gave up. I was too exhausted. I was in too much pain. And I would just say, Charlie, you've got to leave and just go get some help. I can't make it any further. And he really was stubborn about not leaving. He was not going to leave me. There were a lot of arguments that we got into on that boulder field of just,

Charlie, I don't think I'm going to go on. I think you just got to go find some help. And I don't know why, I just had kind of a conviction that he needed to at least get to our camp. Soon David's leg is bleeding again. The effort of moving is only making it worse. By the afternoon, his head is spinning.

Still, Charlie remains fixed on their objective, get the two of them back to camp. After years of his dad coaching him through adventures, the roles are reversed. He would coach me along six inches at a time. And there were times that I would black out, I would pass out. There were times when I would fall off a boulder and land between a couple of others and pass out.

And he would wake me back up and get me going again. And that was our whole day. But it really was Charlie coaching me six inches at a time. That was his mantra, when you can make it another six inches. I mean, this part really just came down to him. If he wasn't able to do it, I would have just had to leave him at the top of the boulder field and go find help. There were times when he really didn't want to go on.

You know, he was having to scoot across a boulder, try to use his right arm to sit on another boulder, and then just scoot across that one. It was torture. It was as close as you can get to torture. As evening approaches once more, David forces himself over the final boulder. Ahead of them, finally, lies the lake and their campsite down by the shore. Charlie half carries, half drags his father the remaining distance to the tent where he collapses.

Now they've made it to camp, Charlie's next objective is to find help. He recalls their conversation with the park rangers about a group of hikers camping out by the lake. Maybe they're still here. Charlie jumps back to his feet. I just run the length of this lake. I run the length of this lake and I get to the camp where we're hoping there's a big group. No one's there.

He frantically scans the clearing. Just a few mashed patches of grass and a pile of cold ashes in the fire pit. If the hikers were here, they're long gone now. Charlie jogs back towards the tent to break the bad news. But on his way to camp, his ears prick up. I hear some voices, right? I hear someone kind of calling or something.

Someone talking on the other side of the lake. So I run around the whole thing again. I run around the whole lake, and as I'm running, I can hear voices. I can hear voices kind of near where the camp was coming from, but I don't really trust them very much because I can also hear voices behind me and around me. Running three more miles around the lake,

Charlie hunts for the phantom voices, eyes darting in the failing light. But there's nobody there. Are his ears playing tricks on him? Is he imagining things? He returns to the tent in the dark and finds his dad lying stiffly on his back. It's clear now to both of them that only one course of action remains, the thing Charlie has been dreading the most. So we talked about the fact that it was going to be a necessity for Charlie to leave me, and he certainly didn't want to do that, but that was going to be a necessity. You know, if we both just stayed there and didn't go get some help,

I wasn't going to make it back out. I think we both had a good cry, actually, and especially over that plan. But it really was the obvious necessity that he was going to have to hike out. The next morning, dim light seeps through the fabric of the tent. Charlie prepares to set out for the ranger station, a ten-mile hike. Silently, he packs a bag with a few essentials.

Among them is a piece of paper detailing David's location. Ready to go, he shares a tearful goodbye with his dad. David listens to Charlie's footsteps fading out of earshot. He closes his eyes and lets the breeze blow over his cracked lips. The tourniquet on his leg has restricted the bleeding, but not completely. Crimson welts bloom across the bandage. Should the worst happen, he's glad Charlie won't be there to see it. I had my 13-year-old with me and I needed to get him out.

I confess I didn't think I was going to make it out. I thought that I was going to bleed out before we could get me out. It was rough sending him off on his own. There really wasn't anything else that could be done at that point to get Charlie out, except to send him on his own. And I sort of insisted on it at that point. And it was a rough goodbye. Charlie jogs away from the tent. It goes against every instinct. I'm walking away from him, walking away from the ability to help him from bleeding out, help him keep an infection away, help feed him. And there was a moment where I thought, well,

maybe someone will come to the lake. Maybe I can just be with him. And honestly, it was a moment of fear as well, right? I'm leaving him. I don't really want to be on my own. I don't want to leave my father, who has up to this point been such a source of protection and guidance for me, maybe forever. You know, I don't want to leave him forever. And I definitely don't want to leave him in this moment. Blocking out the morbid thoughts, Charlie hurries along the trail. He races around switchback turns, up and over rises, through wooded paths and along windswept ridgelines. After just two miles, he's exhausted, but adrenaline powers him on.

He checks his dad's smartwatch. It shows a map of the trail. Eight more miles to the ranger station. Then he hears it. Voices. And this time, it's not a trick of the wind. Charlie stands rooted to the spot as the voices get louder before a man and a child, another father and son, walk into the clearing. About two miles away from the lake, I find a dad and his son. They were willing to go help my dad and attend to any need he had. It's the stroke of luck Charlie has been praying for. The father and son head straight to the lake. They'll stay with David while Charlie continues his mission to the ranger station. Reinvigorated, he sets off running again.

Three miles later, he comes to a junction. The trail splits in four directions. He hesitates. He knows the way to the ranger station station but he wonders if he's more likely to run into help right here at the junction where a number of trails link up should he wait here or continue he decides to stick to the plan and press on but after just a few paces he stops and decides to turn back no more than a minute after I started hiking, I just received like a, just an impression,

you know, from God to stop and turn around and go back to the junction. I was a big overthinker when I was young and I still am. And there was a moment where I was like, just go, you know, like you just got to keep going. You can't keep thinking about stuff. It's already been two days, but I did have a distinct impression

that I had to follow. So I came back to the junction and just blew my whistle as hard as I could. As Charlie empties his lungs, the shrill piercing sound of the whistle rings out across the valley.

Startled birds spiral up from the trees then silence he's about to blow again when he hears a snapping of branches from over his shoulder this guy mike comes out of, literally out of the trees. And if I remember correctly, he was a retired helicopter pilot, or at least had been a helicopter pilot before. He had run marathons, I think, pretty consistently. So I was like, this is the perfect person, right? I'm sobbing and just explaining to him. He's like, it's gonna be okay. It's gonna be okay and

He said he was willing to just run the eight miles and just get to the Rangers if the Rangers were there And if not just keep going Mike gives Charlie a reassuring smile before turning and racing off down the trail Charlie follows in the same direction As he gets closer and closer to the trailhead, he comes across more hikers. By now, they've all heard the story of the boy racing to save his dad. I pass a lot of people along the trail, and they all just said, like,

oh, are you the kid whose father is in trouble? And I said, yeah. Have you seen Mike? And they said, yeah, he's up there. He's still running. Finally, eight hours after leaving his father, Charlie reaches the ranger station. When he bursts through the cabin doors, they're expecting him. Mike got there two hours ago and raised the alarm.

They sit Charlie down and check him for injuries. They tell him it's all going to be okay. A helicopter is being called in, and another ranger is already headed to the lake. They ask if he's hungry. Charlie nods. He's done all he can. It's up to the adults now. Ten miles away, back by the lake, a faint mechanical drone snaps David back into consciousness.

A few moments later, he's being carried from his tent. Then he's strapped into a harness and winched upwards. Lying in the back of the helicopter, he watches the blur of rotor blades against the pink evening sky. His head swims, but one thing rings clear. Charlie did it. David is flown to hospital in the city of Boise. I had a broken back. I'd broken my T4 vertebrae,

and I had really messed up my neck and my lower back. It tore the discs apart. My left arm was crushed. I had internal bleeding clear a year after this. I still had internal bleeding that they were trying to track down, trying to figure out. So I got, and the whole left side of me pretty much was crushed. They didn't know exactly what to do with my leg. You know, there was some discussion about whether I could keep my leg or not.

The following day, Charlie appears at David's hospital bedside. Looked after at the ranger station, Charlie had waited there for several hours before his stepdad came to collect him. They'd driven back home to Boise, where Charlie was reunited with his mom. David wraps his one good arm around Charlie's neck and pulls him close in an embrace. One day, when he's older, Charlie will fully understand the magnitude of what happened up in the crags. For now, though, he's ready to go back to being a kid again. Everything was honestly back to normal for me as far as, you know, I wasn't thinking about it in a

very traumatic way, but I didn't like telling a story so much. I just wanted to, like, move on to the next thing, next adventure, and I didn't want it to be such a traumatic and formative thing. For David, though, the road to recovery is a lot longer the surgeons managed to save his leg eventually the muscle tissue grows back and after countless hours of grueling physical therapy he's able to walk again however in the end it was the blow to his head rather than his leg that would change the course of David's life. Ultimately, my head injury was bad enough that I just couldn't continue as an attorney, and so I had to quit that and go on disability.

So that's affected my life pretty significantly from being in jungles in Africa and the Congo and down in South America and climbing mountains all over the place and in between doing trial work to a situation where I couldn't work anymore. These days, David leads a quieter life, leaving the more intrepid pursuits to Charlie. I sort of handed the baton off to Charlie in that sense. He's out on his adventures with his friends now. I go with him

when I can, but my life has become much, much more meditative and in a sense of nature and spirituality, much more meditative. You know, my adventures sometimes are walks with my dog, you know, trying to find some quiet place in nature to go. Even nine years after the accident, the pain is still there. But there is also plenty of gratitude and an unshakable bond between father and son. I think the first thing, it really created a bond between Charlie and I that you just can't imagine how close that bond is now.

He would say, I owe my life to you. You saved my life. And I don't know if I really believe that. Like I said, I would have lost it right when it happened if it weren't for God and my father talking me through, right? It really became an experience where we had to rely on each other, right? Endless people have asked me, how did your 13-year-old keep it together to be able to do all that? He just did. He kept it together and was my coach, six inches at a time time trying to make it down the cliff wall across

the bowler fields hiking out to get me a rescue you know that was all charlie next time on real survival stories we meet personal trainer, former Marine, and avid mountain biker, Anne Yella. A competitive rider, Anne loves nothing more than pushing herself to the limit. But in January 2004, when she goes for a quick sunset spin in the foothills of Southern California, she has no idea of the terrifying fate that

awaits her. I remember thinking, this must be where the tunnel of light thing happens, or the real of your life, that movie playing back. And I was sorely disappointed that none of that happened. I just had that sense of calm, and then the breathing is cut off. But at that point, I was 100% convinced that I would not be waking up. That's next time on Real Survival Stories. Listen to Anne's story today without waiting a week by subscribing to Noisa Plus.