Real Survival Stories - Highland Plunge: Unlikely Saviour on the Isle of Skye

Episode Date: September 25, 2024

An outdoor instructor plummets into peril on the misty, mythical Isle of Skye. Iain Afshar is traversing a precipitous sawtooth ridgeline in the Cuillin Hills when he tumbles blindly into impenetrable fog. Bloodied, broken and stranded, it seems he has minutes to live. But as he clings to life, his ultimate salvation will come from the unlikeliest of sources… 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 Iain got in touch with us after listening to the show. If you have an amazing survival story of your own that you’d like to put forward, let us know. Drop us an email at [e-mail] Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

With TD Direct Investing, you can get live support. So whether you need help buying a partial share from your favorite tech company, opening a TFSA, or learning about investing tools, we're here to help. But keeping your cat off your keyboard? That's up to you. Reach out to TD Direct Investing today and make your investing steps count. Plus enjoy 1% cash back. Conditions apply. Offer ends January 31st, 2025. Visit td.com slash dioffer to learn more.

It's 8 a.m. on Tuesday, May the 19th, 2009. Heavy mist shrouds the black, cooling hills on the Isle of Skye, Scotland. Through the shifting patterns of fog, soaring basalt crags loom suddenly and vanish, swallowed up by the chill, billowing vapour. High on a jagged ridgeline, two and a half thousand feet above sea level, two men stagger blindly through the haze.

They are 39-year-old Ian Afshar and his climbing partner, Paul. The pair have been attempting to climb the Kulin Ridge, but poor visibility has forced them to turn back. Navigating its narrow, saw-tooth crest is dangerous at the best of times. To do so in this weather, surrounded as they are by plunging cliffs and gullies, is unthinkable. Now Ian and Paul are searching for the footpath that leads safely back down to the lock at the bottom of the ridge. It's the route they came up just minutes ago.

But right now, they're struggling to get their bearings. They can't see further than a few feet. There's no real obvious path there. And we're just climbing over boulders and broken ground, just trying to find our way back. And you think it's easy just to turn 180 degrees and turn back, but the mist is quite disorientating. Ian tentatively picks his way across the slippery ground as he walks he dislodges loose scree the small stones tumble down the mountainside

their tinny reverberations echoing through the fog he pauses blinking into the murk a few feet in front of him there's a boulder a squat solid rock bristly with yellowish moss ian shuffles his feet around the rock as he does he places both palms flat against its cold ancient surface shifting his weight and peering around the boulder into the fog ahead you know there's just misty void you can't really see anything so i kind of carefully just put my hands on the boulder just to step around it as i step around it i've got both hands on the boulder it moves it seems the rock was balancing on a knife edge, waiting for the slightest touch to send it hurtling down the mountain. And as the boulder plummets over the edge into the abyss, Ian goes with it. The next thing I know, I'm falling through the air and I'm thinking, oh dear, this is

not great. I couldn't see how far down it was, couldn't see anything. All I can really remember is the sense of falling and the sense of this is going to hurt. 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 outdoor instructor Ian Afshar. In May 2009, he and his friend Paul travelled to Scotland to traverse the famous Kulin Ridge on the Isle of Skye. They've planned for a quick, efficient climb. What they haven't planned for is the sudden onset of impenetrable fog

that sends Ian tumbling blindly into peril. Blooded, broken and stranded, it seems he has literally minutes to live. I thought no one's going to hear us, no one's going to find us. We're so remote. So, you know, at that point was when I really sort of gave up hope or felt like there's no hope of me surviving this. As Ian clings to life, he'll be forced to rely on the skill and bravery of others. And his ultimate salvation will come from the most unlikely of sources.

I'm John Hopkins from Noisa. This is Real Survival Stories. It's 7pm on Monday the 18th of May 2009, a few hours north of Glasgow, Scotland. A car wends its way through a rugged Highland Glen. In the distance, beyond the steep-sided hollow at the end of the valley, the dusky outlines of mountains contour the evening sky. Purple heather clings to the grassy braes that rise gently on either side of the road. Behind the wheel, 39-year-old Ian Afshar admires the golden light tinting the distant hills. His friend Paul sits in the passenger seat. A reverent silence has descended over the two friends as they make their way further

north. Every moment of this trip feels precious. After all, it's not every day they get the chance to come up here to experience the best rock climbing that Britain has to offer. Ian lives 600 miles away in Bristol. He runs an outdoor activity company, teaching his clients various adventure sports, from archery and abseiling to canoeing and raft building. But Ian's greatest love, bar none, is climbing. It was a passion he uncovered well into his twenties, after he'd already embarked on a career as a school teacher.

It was a discovery that changed the trajectory of his life. When I was teaching at school, one of the teachers was a climber and he had a friend in the Peak District that was training for his climbing qualifications and the guy said, look we need a few guinea pigs, do you want to come up to the Peak District with me? So myself and a couple of others were up for it and we went up there and that was the first sort of taste of proper climbing on rock and absolutely loved it. Just loved it. Then, yeah, got into it and kind of once I started,

just was hooked. Ian's passion for climbing was matched by his ability he was a natural he promptly traded the classroom for a rock face he's been running his outdoor activity company for five years now growing his business and making his mark things in his personal life are steady too he and his partner karen have been together for seven years. Recently, the conversation has turned to children. But when it comes to starting a family, Ian has his reservations. Karen's only a year younger than me,

so she was 38 at the time. I was still hanging on to the adventurous life. But yeah, so there was definitely conversations being had around having children, but I was kind of resisting for as long as I could. I just kind of had that bug, you know, the outdoor bug, and just was worried that having kids might sort of put a stop to that. As he continues north, Ian puts more and more distance between himself

and the difficult decisions about the future. He and Paul are on the way to the Isle of Skye, connected to the mainland by a bridge which they can now see in the distance. Tomorrow they plan to climb the famous Kulin Ridge. The pair met a couple of years ago during a trek up Mont Blanc. Paul is far less experienced than Ian, but shares his adventurous spirit and is a willing student. Ian, meanwhile, has scaled peaks in some of Europe's most famous mountain ranges. But there's something special about Scotland. The Highlands are the crucible of British climbing, the place where every young climber must come

to test their skills against the Crags, Corries and Monroes. It's, you know, the big routes, it's remote, both of which I love. I love remote climbing. There's some classic, very famous routes up there. I'm half Scottish, so there's always an appeal to go up to Scotland. And from a climbing perspective, that's where all climbers cut their teeth. If Scotland is a pilgrimage site for British mountaineers, then the Kulin Ridge is the holy grail. It's a monster 12-kilometre long spine of black gabbro rock,

linking together 22 separate peaks in the Kulin Hills and incorporating over 4,000 meters of ascent and descent. It's quite a technical route. It's quite a complicated route, so it's not obvious. It's not just a knife-edge ridge. It's very broken with different rock types. And the biggest challenge, because it's right on the coast is the weather Ian has attempted a traverse of the Ridge twice before on both occasions poor conditions forced him to turn back located in the far west of Scotland the coolin Hills are vulnerable to

extreme unpredictable weather fronts blowing in from the atlantic sudden squalls and heavy blankets of mist can roll in unannounced turning a challenging climb into a treacherous one you can go at any season and get lucky or unlucky the trouble living in the southwest is the time it takes to get up there and it wasn't so easy to drop everything just to go when the weather came good. So trips to Scotland tended to be booked in advance when we could both get the time off and then fingers crossed that we'd get a decent spell of weather for that time. They've spent the last few days compulsively checking the forecast. It looks promising. Sunny, clear skies and mild temperatures. And as they cross the bridge to the island,

with the last of the light fading from the late spring sky, all the signs suggest it's going to be third time lucky for Ian. 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 the next morning, 4am. After a night in the campsite near the base of the ridge,

Ian and Paul prep their gear for the day's climb. The plan is to travel light and fast, limiting their equipment to the bare minimum. As Ian packs up their ropes, harnesses and carabiners, Paul prepares lunch. I remember he made these huge doorstep sandwiches, like just thick wedges of cheese. These enormous things. And I kind of joked that we got all this lightweight kit and then he just doubled the weight with the cheese sandwiches. But he packed it, so I just shoved it without really thinking, just into the top of my rucksack just before we headed off. Even with the cumbersome cheese sandwiches, their packs are light enough to ensure speed and efficiency along the ridge.

They plan to be back at camp by nightfall. Ian and Paul climb into the car and begin the 30-minute drive to the south end of the ridge. They plan to be back at camp by nightfall. Ian and Paul climb into the car and begin the 30-minute drive to the south end of the ridge. As the darkness lifts around them, the two friends closely watch the dawn sky for weather warnings. By the time we kind of left the campsite, it was just starting to get light. We could see that our end of the ridge was clear but we could see you know there was definite cloud further along the ridge and as we drove to the start you could see up to the ridge and yeah it was like paul said the black cloud of ward or hanging over the southern end of the ridge where we were going to start so there was definite feeling of trepidation. For Ian, it's an all too familiar sinking feeling. In dawn's purple twilight, the north end of the ridge is clearly visible,

its craggy outline etched against the lightning sky. But the southern end is swamped by ominous black clouds. So much for the forecast. They park the car next to a lock at the base of the ridge's southern tip. As he zips into his belay jacket, Ian peers up at the mist swirling 3,000 feet above their heads. It doesn't bode well. But then, as abruptly as the weather can deteriorate up here, it can also suddenly improve. And it's with this positive mindset that Ian and Paul shoulder their packs and set off. The initial ascent is a three-hour hike and scramble over steep scree and slippery basalt

slabs. It's slow, tiring, and both climbers soon work up a sweat. Ian takes the lead, periodically checking in with Paul and giving him tips and guidance. For instructor Ian, this is an ideal dynamic. I was going for the mountaineering instructor award at the time. He wasn't a big climber. He was a very willing second, which at the time suited perfectly because it just gave me the skill of building up my own skills about bringing a client up second, which is what I was training to do.

It's 7.30am by the time Ian and Paul reach the crest of the Kulin Ridge. To their dismay, the weather hasn't improved. If anything, it's deteriorated. Ian squints into the mist, but he can't see further than a few feet. All around them, the fog billows like smoke. Ian and Paul share a gloomy conflab. The facts are obvious. They can't continue in these conditions.

The ridge is narrow and flanked by precipitous drops. Deadly in such poor visibility. The mist was getting thicker. It really was like pea soup up there. And after maybe 10 minutes, it became apparent that this really is not going to clear and the best course of action is to descend. So we decided, let's just stop. Let's turn around, head back down to the lake, and then have a rethink what we're going to do. It's bitterly disappointing. But if the choice

is between disappointment and endangering their lives, then it's really no choice at all. Having spent a long time instructing and writing risk assessments and looking after people, taking people climbing, think about the risk very, very carefully. You know, I have to. So I would consider myself a very cautious and careful climber. If something just doesn't feel right, then I don't mind backing off of it. They turn around and begin the long trudge back down to the lock but it becomes rapidly apparent that this descent won't be a simple matter of retracing their steps there's no like

real obvious path there and we're just climbing over boulders and broken ground just trying to find our way back you think it's easy just to turn 180 degrees and turn back but the mist is quite disorientating we're just trying to find our way back to the path where we'd come up onto the ridge ian staggers blindly forward he scans the ground for signs of a footpath but all he can see are broken fragments of rock uneven slabs that for all he knows bleed straight off a precipice to his left and right there appears to be nothing but empty space a yawning gulf filled with swirling opaque mist i see a boulder where the path looks like it goes and i know there's a drop off to one side of me to

my right so i just say to paul just wait there i'm just gonna have a just a little look around that boulder just see if the path's around there ian approaches the washing machine sized rock carefully he places his hands against its rough moss covered surface stabilizing himself then he leans forward peering around the boulder in the hope of spotting the footpath. There's just a misty void, you can't really see anything, so I kind of carefully just put my hands on the boulder just to step around it.

As I step around it, I've got both hands on the boulder, it moves. I can remember quite clearly the just feeling of falling into a void. I couldn't see how far down it was, couldn't see anything. All I can really remember is the sense of falling and the sense of this is going to hurt and thinking, where's this boulder going to land? After a few moments of weightlessness ian hits something solid the boulder has missed him it must have or he wouldn't still be alive but he has collided

with the rocks below with bone shattering force And he's still tumbling. I then started sliding and skidding down these slabs. And I can remember just trying to stop myself falling, just digging my fingernails in, clawing at the rock. And it, to me, just felt like I was just falling forever. Ian careens down the rough, angular slabs. He scrambles frantically at the ridge face, skin tearing from his fingers, clothes ripping, bones breaking, momentum gathering. He hurtles towards another sheer drop.

There's only one way this will end. I knew that down that side of the ridge there was about 900 meters of rock slabs and cliffs down to the lock in the bottom if I slide anymore I'm gonna fall off another cliff it's 8 a.m. on the Isle of Sk. Ian's body bounces down the rocky incline, a sheer drop fast approaching. If he doesn't stop sliding, he'll die. He desperately digs his palms into the wet, gritty surface. He presses down hard with the heels of his climbing boots. Gradually, he starts to decelerate.

And then, at last, he slows to a shuddering halt. It takes a few seconds to get his bearings. He's come to a stop on a slightly gentler gradient, lying on his back amid a jumble of small boulders and mossy tufts. Cautiously, Ian puts some pressure on his left leg, trying to push himself upright. There is an eruption of white heat, a blinding flash of agony. I think that was when the pain hit me. I hadn't felt anything other than that crunch before, but suddenly the pain just exploded. Never could imagine pain like it.

Even the slightest movement sends razor-sharp stabs through Ian's bones and muscle and tissue. Eyes bulging, sinews straining, he tries to reposition himself, but doing so only reveals how precariously poised he is. Every time I moved, I felt myself sliding. And at the time, at that point, my first thought was I've got to get myself anchored and stabilized because I'm going to keep sliding. I really didn't feel stable.

So initially I thought, well, I've got the climbing gear in my rucksack. Maybe I need to build an anchor and at least fasten myself to the rock so I'm stable. Somehow he manages to slide his backpack off his shoulders. He tries to reach inside and remove an anchoring device, but his trembling fingers can barely operate the zip. His hands are curled into crushed, bloody claws. Ian calls up to his climbing partner. I'm screaming up at Paul at this stage, just in absolute agony. I didn't know what I'd

done. Nothing in my body felt stable. My legs just felt completely unstable. I could hear bones grinding against each other, sickening kind of sound and sickening feeling. As Paul's distant voice echoes down to him, Ian tries to collect himself. Blood is soaking into his clothes, gushing from what feels like a hundred open wounds. The initial drop must have been around about eight metres straight down onto rocks. And then another, you know, 20, 30 metre slide down these slabs. I knew just from first aid training, if there's a lot of blood loss,

then the body's reaction is to go into shock to protect the core of the body. And I could feel the blood flowing out of my hands, out of my extremities, and my hands just became pretty useless. And I thought, I'm going to have to act quite quickly here, because I'm not going to be able to do much for myself if I don't do something now. Gritting his teeth, he manages to unzip his backpack and pull out his jacket, hat and gloves. The rate at which he's losing blood will impair his body's ability to regulate temperature. Hypothermia is a pressing threat. He manages to pull on his woolen hat and drape

his jacket across himself. Then he tries to force his fingers into the gloves, but it's no use. His hands have now lost all feeling. He lies back, what remains of his body heat slowly leaking out into the cold basalt. Ian has done all he can for himself. From here on out, his fate is in the hands of others. One faint ray of hope is the mobile phone Paul is carrying. If he can get some signal, he'll be able to place a call to the emergency services. With all the strength he can muster, Ian wails up to Paul, telling him their rough coordinates.

I just told him, you've got to make a call. You've got to get Mountain Rescue here. I'm in big, big trouble here. He shouted down that he didn't have any signal. I don't think we had a signal up there. And I just remember screaming up to him, just try it anyway. Just give it a call. You might get through. Just try 999. see if we can get through i then remember telling him you know you're gonna have to try and get down to me because i'm not gonna survive this i need help really quickly paul reassures ian that he's on his way down but it could take the inexperienced climber an hour, maybe more, to reach him. It feels like time Ian simply doesn't have.

I was just lying there. I was helpless. I couldn't do anything other than keep myself warm. And you know, that's when I really had to start digging in deep because I thought this could actually kill me. I was starting to get really cold in the mist, lying on cold rocks. If I don't, you know, if some help doesn't come fairly soon, I'm just going to get really cold and then problems are just going to get even worse. I had a lot of feelings of sadness as I realized that, you know, we're so remote here, I potentially could die from this. This could kill me. So I had to kind of lie there with those thoughts,

knowing that there wasn't much I could do myself. I couldn't move anywhere. So I was relying on others to come to my aid. Time crawls by. 20 minutes pass, then 30. Ian is growing weaker, his breath coming in short, shallow gasps. Big, terrifying questions come to the fore. How long does he have?

Will he ever see his loved ones again? I felt really sad for my partner Karen, and the children thing was going through my mind. She'd, she'd wanted kids and I wasn't going to survive. So that wasn't going to happen for her or with me. I felt really sad for my mum, for my family. But, you know, I tried to put those thoughts out of my head and just try and concentrate on surviving. These negative thoughts need to be pushed to one side.

They won't help him survive. And so he digs deep. Then, about 45 minutes after the fall, Paul appears from above, abseiling down through the mist. His feet land by Ian's head with a decisive thud. The presence of another human by his side gives Ian an immediate boost. But the facts remain. They are way off the beaten track here, in a precarious spot, concealed by a thick screen of mist. How is anyone going to find them?

In a voice contorted with pain, Ian tells Paul to open the first aid kit and take out the emergency whistle. It's a long shot, but they're not in a position to start ruling out any options. And I said, look, just blow it. Just get the whistle out. Just blow it. Six blasts of the whistle, a minute silence,

six blasts of the whistle and repeat. Just do that." He's looking at me like there's no one here, that no one's going to hear this. I just remember saying, just do it. Just get that whistle out. Just blow it. Someone might hear it. The echoes fade into the void. Ian strains his ears for a response, but nothing comes. Paul tries again, six extended blasts. Still nothing. The fog has a muffling effect on the whistles. They sound agonizingly weak.

Ian closes his eyes. This feels hopeless. But then... Miraculously, sometime later, I don't know how much later, maybe another 20 minutes later, we heard the kind of answering whistle. We heard a reply and we could hear it getting closer. Moments earlier, Paul had actually managed to get through to the emergency services.

The signal was too sporadic to hold a proper conversation, but over the patchy line, he thinks he heard that Mountain Rescue are sending out a team. Could this be the search party answering now with the whistle? I think at that point, you know, we were told that there was a rescue team had been alerted, Sky Mountain Rescue Team. They'd been alerted and they were assembling and they were going to come up and try and find us. So we knew that things were happening. Ian swivels his eyes left and right, scouring the fog. Then two figures materialise. It's not mountain rescue, but it's a welcome arrival nonetheless.

Two climbers had heard the whistle, had come to investigate. You know, I don't know how they got down the cliff, but they'd come and suddenly there was other people there. They had a sleeping bag, which they could use to kind of put over me to keep me warm. The two good Samaritans help restore a little of Ian's body heat. But he's still in agony and shivering violently. But then there's another sound. It's a distant whooshing through the fog. The hum of propellers. It's a distant whooshing through the fog. The hum of propellers.

It's a helicopter. It should be a relief, a welcome arrival. But it isn't. We could hear this helicopter. It sounded way, way off, much further north than where we were. And it sounded like a lot higher than where we were and it really was at that point that I thought they're just not going to find us. We're not even on the path, we're just down the side in really really dangerous terrain here. It's thick mist even if the helicopter could get anywhere near us they're not going to be able to fly in the mist and then that's when I thought I'm not going to survive this. It really kind of hit me at that point that they're just not going to find us. And even if they do, I'm not going to survive. It's a shattering blow to Ian's

morale. Even with a bird's eye view of the ridge, the climbers are invisible on their lonely ledge. They'll never be spotted. And now, Ian is finding it harder and harder to take breaths. Like a heavy weight is bearing down on his chest. Like the life is slowly being squeezed out of him, drop by drop. It's about 11am. Ian has stopped shivering now. His eyes are open, unblinking. Time seems to slow down, then speed up, acting in ways that are unfamiliar and unnerving. Ian is still conscious, his head wasn't injured in the fall, which may be the only reason he's still alive right now. But the pain humming through his body makes it hard to concentrate on what's happening around him.

The rest of the time just sort of went into a bit of a blur, really. All I remember is lying there, the pain. And then I can remember, you know, it's becoming increasingly hard to breathe. That's something I do remember. Paul tries to reassure his friend that the mountain rescue team is on its way. But as more time passes, as Ian gets colder and weaker, his reassurances fall flat. He may not be moving, but internally,

Ian is wrestling with everything he has left just to stay alive. And then he hears a calm, authoritative voice calling out from higher up the slope. He points his gaze upward. The mountain rescue operative's fluorescent jacket glows through the fog like a searchlight. The professionals have arrived. A few moments later, the rescuer reaches their location.

It's just one man in the advance party. The rest of the team are on their way. But that's by the by. For the first time in hours, there is a glimmer of hope. That felt like a bit of a relief. Suddenly, there was some people there that could potentially be equipped to actually help to evacuate me from this situation. I just felt I was deteriorating at the time,

and everything just seemed to take forever. Suddenly, Ian has a chance, but it's a small one. He's still a long way from safety, and every minute that goes by, the time bomb of his internal injuries ticks inexorably down. Eventually, two more rescue team members arrive. Through the haze of pain, Ian can faintly hear several voices discussing next steps. From where they are, it seems the helicopter won't be able to hover close enough to perform a safe airlift. They'll have to get Ian out of the clouds first.

So a decision was made that they were going to have to stretch me up the cliff that I'd fallen off of and then down the other side, back down to the lock. In my mind, I'm just thinking that I'm not going to survive that long. That's going to take too long for that all to happen. But Ian is hardly in a position to offer any alternatives. The S&R team begin strapping him into a harness. It's excruciating. His body feels like a collection of broken pieces,

grinding and scraping together. They thread ropes through his harness, fashioning a pulley system. Then, with one rescue team member positioned at the top of the incline, they start hoisting Ian up the 50 metres, back to the top of the ridge. I remember being winched up and then a feeling of almost suffocation. I could hardly breathe. And at the time, I just thought, it's all the straps, the straps, you know, being sort of winched near vertical up a cliff. The chest strap felt like it was digging into my throat.

It was suffocating me. Ian slumps lower in his harness, spluttering for air as he's winched up the rock face. By the time he reaches the top, he's gasping for breath. He pleads for someone to loosen the straps on his harness. A rescuer checks them,

but they aren't excessively tight. Clearly they're not what's making it hard for Ian to breathe. It's something much more frightening. It wasn't the straps causing the problems, it was just my lungs were collapsing with all the blood from the internal. I mean, I had a lot of internal injuries and that collapsed both of my lungs, which was just causing those breathing difficulties. But it felt like endless carry on this stretcher and I kept saying, I can't breathe, I can't breathe.

Ian is carried the 3,000 feet down the sloping side of the ridge. It's a rocky, slippery, uneven path, an assault course of boulders, scarps and scree. Ian jerks from side to side, gritting his teeth through every agonizing bump. After what feels like an eternity, they reach the lock at the bottom of the ridge. They're finally below the cloud here, which means the helicopter should be able to fly in and out. Ian listens to radio crackle. He can hear the mounting urgency in the rescuers' voices.

They were on the radio saying, we've got to get that helicopter in now. We need to get this rescue happening now. I remember just saying, I'm going to die, I'm going. I really was struggling to breathe at this point. Then, the sound that he's been waiting for. Ripples surge across the surface of the lock as the helicopter swoops low over the water. Ian feels the powerful downdrafts from the propellers. He inhales the smell of aviation fumes and listens to the rhythmic chop of the blades swarming against the fog-bound sky.

I've just got memory of a helicopter getting closer, getting louder, and then lying there looking up at the underbelly of a Seaking helicopter. A winch was lowered down, I was strapped into it, and then my last real memory is getting winched up into the hovering Seaking, being loaded into the back of it. And that's really my kind of lost memory. Ian has held on for just long enough. He is safe. And as the helicopter turns and sets off for the nearest hospital, he finally closes his

eyes and, for the first time since he fell, allows himself to slip into unconsciousness. It's late evening on Tuesday the 19th of May in Glasgow Royal Infirmary. Ian wakes up in a hospital bed blinking into bright strip lights woozy from painkillers it takes him a minute to orient himself to recall the series of events that led him here he opens his cracked lips and begs for a sip of water. His mouth feels like sandpaper. I remember waking up in intensive care. I can remember being absolutely gasping for something to drink. I think they gave me one tiny little sip of water or something, which I probably threw up everywhere. And then it was just sort of snatches of consciousness in different beds.

I remember being in intensive care for about four days, just being quite heavily sedated on morphine. And I do remember having some really weird hallucinations in the hospital. I'm pretty sure there was a Grim Reaper standing at the end of the bed. I know that's a bit cliche, but I'm pretty sure there was a hallucination of that. The next two weeks are a vague montage of IV drips, CAT scans and operating theatres. Ian suffered two collapsed lungs, a shattered pelvis, a snapped leg,

a broken shoulder blade, several cracked ribs and a fractured spine. His wrist and leg was slashed open, and he ripped all the skin off the fingers of one hand. That's not to mention the ruptured bladder or the five pints of blood he lost through internal bleeding. Gradually, though, after a series of intensive surgeries, Ian is bolted, glued and stitched back together. The next hurdle is working his way back to fitness. I started a course of physio and before that, you know, I was training for a 50 mile ultra marathon, so I was pretty fit. And that first session, I think I'd managed three steps on the crutches and just collapsed back in the bed. That was it. That's all I could manage, which was a bit soul-destroying to know that my level of strength and fitness had gone down to three steps.

The road to recovery is long and laborious. Thankfully, he has the support of his loved ones to help him through. One day, when Ian is feeling well enough to sit up and chat, Karen visits the hospital ward. She sort of sat me down and I remember saying, I've got something to tell you. And I'm like, I think she remembers the look of dread came across my face or look of panic came across my face.

And I'm like, yeah, go on. She said, oh, I'm pregnant. And, you know, at that point, I was kind of lying in this hospital bed, you know, talk about hitting a man when he's down. Becoming a father will almost certainly curtail the thrill-seeking part of Ian's life. But given what's just happened, Karen's news has in fact arrived at just the right moment. In some ways, it was the perfect time, you know, for it to happen because, you know, it kind of took all the worry about that away because I had so many other things to worry about that actually it was like, okay, that's really cool. While Ian digests the news

that he's becoming a father, the doctors offer solemn warnings about the long-term consequences of his injuries, how they will likely force him to change his lifestyle. But he remains defiant. You know, and doctors were sort of talking about in terms of years and having life-changing injuries. And I thought, no, that's not going to change my life. I said, you don't know what my life is. That's not going to change. The rehabilitation,

although it took a long time, I was in a wheelchair for about four months and on my crutches getting stronger on them. I thought, I'm going to get back to what I love climbing. I'm going to get back to what I, I mean, I love climbing. I'm going to get back to doing everything that I did pre-accident. It's not going to stop me. And Ian does get back to the life he had before. Slowly, patiently, he starts walking again, then hiking, and then climbing. These days, with two kids at home, he doesn't go on as many adventures as before the accident. But he still gets out when he can, very often with Paul, to whom he owes his life. A big shout out has got to be to Paul. Without him there, you know, he held it together.

And definite big shout out to the Sky Mountain Rescue. They do an amazing job and would not have survived without them. I thought what can I really do? So I joined my local search and rescue team, the Avon and Somerset search and rescue team, and spent some time working with them, helping and volunteering for them. So that was sort of the least I could really do to give something back to them. In the years since the accident, Ian has had plenty of time to reflect

on the various factors that helped him survive. Paul's cool head, the courage of the rescue team, his own experience, expertise and inner endurance. But ultimately, when it comes down to it, what Ian owes his life to above all else is something rather surprising. I absolutely maintain that that cheese sandwich that Paul made, because it was at kind of head height,

that's what stopped my head hitting the ground. If I'd have hit my head on the ground, that would have been it. But, you know, I remember at the time thinking, oh, so I've got a little bit of a pillow here, just where my rucksack lid was. And without a doubt, having a bit of a cushion definitely, I think, saved my life.turned-yachtsman Pete Goss as he takes on the most draining and dangerous sailing event on Earth, a 24,000-mile single-handed race around the globe. Most don't make it to the finish.

Some don't survive. Two months in, hundreds of miles from land, he is beset by the worst storm he has ever faced. A maelstrom of mountainous waves and hurricane-force gales. And then, a distress call comes in. A fellow racer is sinking and needs urgent help. Suddenly, Pete's battle to stay alive also becomes the most daring of rescue missions. That's next time on Real Survival Stories.