Real Survival Stories - Tomb of Ice: 40-Foot Plunge Into a Crevasse

Episode Date: April 3, 2024

After a relaxing family holiday in a Montana national park, Ted Porter stays on for a few days. He wants to explore, to tackle some longer hikes and bigger climbs. But as he descends a remote glacier all alone, a whirlwind of an accident leaves him trapped inside a deep fissure in the ice. With no hope of rescue, and with a broken back, he must somehow find a way out. Ted is about to discover an inner strength he never knew he had… A Noiser production, written by Chris McDonald. 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's mid-afternoon in the state of Montana on September 2, 2013. A blanket of clouds drifts over Glacier National Park. It casts a dark shadow across the jagged, snowy mountains, the sparkling alpine

streams, and deep, tree-lined valleys. This ancient landscape was carved out of the ice. Glaciers once covered every mountain. Today, only a few dozen remain. Those that journey here are still awestruck by their eternal beauty. But alongside that beauty lies danger. These great, sweeping ice sheets can be treacherous underfoot. Yawning chasms concealed by snow run tens, if not hundreds of feet deep. It's a danger that 36-year-old Ted Porter is now all too aware of. He shudders and blinks up into the darkness,

back towards the light and the slender opening of the crevasse which he has just fallen into. And I was at the bottom of the crevasse and I was trying to figure out where I was, how deep I was, and fathoming the fact that this actually took place, and this is really happening to me right now. And I'm by myself. Then the pain hits him. My back pain was so horrific. I mean, it was excruciating pain like I'd never experienced in my life.

This was hard to describe pain. Ted tries to roll over, but he can't. His legs are numb. In fact, he can't feel anything below the waist. He looks up again at the towering walls of ice. They're a deep, ethereal blue, almost glowing. He fumbles in his pocket for his phone. With trembling fingers, he unlocks the screen.

His heart sinks. No signal. Ted opens the camera app and switches it to video. He pans the lens around. Then he begins saying a tearful goodbye to his mom and dad a goodbye to life i was hoping you know when and if search and rescue or whoever came for me however many days or weeks later that they would find my phone if my phone was still intact and not destroyed, that they would be able to relay this video and give it to my parents.

It really was a goodbye. 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 Ted Porter. Descending the Jackson Glacier, an accident leaves him severely injured and trapped inside a deep fissure in the ice. With no hope of rescue, there's only one way out. He'll have to climb.. There's nobody to say, hey, can you go get help? There's no friend saying, are you okay?

There's nobody. Hopelessness will threaten to consume him. But Ted is about to discover an inner strength he never knew he had. I'm John Hopkins from Noise of This. His real survival stories. from Noisa, this is Real Survival Stories. Monday, September 2nd, 2013. Ted emerges from the treeline out into a wide open meadow. His brow is slick with sweat. His breath fogs in the crisp mountain air.

Looming ahead is Mount Jackson, one of six peaks in the Glacier National Park that rise to over 10,000 feet. Straddling the border between Montana and Canada, the park covers over a million acres of alpine wilderness. There's over 700 miles of trails, from short walks to multi-day hikes. Over the years, Ted has done quite a few of them, mainly with his family. Glacier is a special place to them, and well worth the journey from Kansas every year or two.

My family has been going there since I've been a kid. So I have a long history of going and hiking in Glacier National Park. The first time when I went there was as a child, when I was six months old, as a baby, I guess. My two sisters, you know, mom and dad and me, have been going to Glacier Park for forever. And so the deep bond that I have with Glacier is also just further deepened with the deep bond that I have with all of them. In fact, Ted has just spent the past week on vacation here with his parents. He always loves their time together, but he also loves exploring

on his own. So he'll often stay on for a few days to tackle bigger climbs, like Mount Jackson and its famous hanging glacier. Ted strides through the pine-fringed meadow, making a beeline for the peak up ahead. He's got his work cut out. It's probably a three-hour hike to the base of the glacier, then another couple of hours up to the summit from there. It'll be a race against time to make it back down again before nightfall. But that's all part of the fun. You can't wait to get up there. There's just something about setting foot on those ancient ice fields.

The mountains have always been an escape for me. I love that feeling of solitude. Just being out there by yourself, connecting with nature. And I don't know how to explain it. The feeling I get when I'm there, the smell of the mountains, the smell of the air, the feeling of just being there,

specifically Glacier, is just different for me than most other places. It just does something different to you. The air is cleaner, everything seems more sensitized, it seems to make sense. It's 11 a.m. when a light rain begins to fall. Ted nods a hello to a few day trippers at the side of the trail. After a later start than planned, he's now speeding up the six miles to Gunsight Lake, which is where the ascent to the Jackson Glacier properly begins.

I was feeling absolutely fantastic and I was in pretty good shape. I just took a pack, a small pack for that day. I had a fleece jacket and I believe I had a raincoat. And then I had my crampons and I had a fleece jacket, and I believe I had a raincoat. And then I had my crampons, and I had a nice axe. And then I had, you know, some snacks and a few water bottles and stuff like that. So pretty light kit for the day. And I was blazing. I was, you know, hiking so fast that you just make up time. A couple of hours later, Ted arrives at gun sites on the turnoff for the Jackson Glacier.

The trail doesn't look too promising. It's almost indistinguishable from the scrub and gravel lining the lake. If it weren't for the shabby looking sign, he might have missed it entirely. The sign that says, you know, Glacier Overview this way or Glacier Overlook, you know, it looked like it hadn had been painted or repaired in 40 years as kind of ramp shackle and broken down and all that stuff so i'm guessing a whole lot of people didn't go up there he pushes on during the climb he's treated to stunning views of the forested valley below he hops over rocks to cross a babbling stream, melt from the glacier above. Towers of dark granite, flecked with white, soar overhead. The last two miles up to the edge of the glacier are tougher going.

The path is slippy and muddy. He also notices some familiar signs of Montana wildlife. Lining the trail is fresh bear scat. Grizzlies are known to roam the park, and while attacks are rare, you really don't want to surprise one. But Ted isn't overly concerned. He has his wits about him,

and a can of bear spray in his bag. Still, he does get a jump as he hurries around a bend and straight into some hikers coming down the other way. He assumed he was the only one up here. I came across three guys, and I'm not sure where they were coming from, but I said, where are you headed to? And I said, up to the glacier. They said, be careful.

It's really slick up there. It's just rained. And I was pretty young at the time, and I was pretty cocky, and I was like, eh, no big deal. That's not going to affect me at all. Fifteen minutes later, Ted is at 7,000 feet, almost halfway up the northern face of Mount Jackson. The path has now vanished completely, leaving him to scramble up steep slopes of scree.

But after one final push, has now vanished completely, leaving him to scramble up steep slopes of scree. But after one final push, Ted stands atop a gravel embankment, right at the foot of the famous glacier. The sprawling expanse of ice takes his breath away. Covering 250 acres, it clings improbably to the mountainside. Its snow-covered folds and ripples look like crashing waves suspended in time.

Ted cranes his neck, looking over the ice sheet and up to the summit, another 3,000 feet above. Dressed only in a T-shirt and cargo pants, the chill coming off the surface is bracing. And I couldn't feel it as I hiked up, you know, a mile from it I couldn't feel it, but right when you got there you just felt the chill of the ice and I remember that hitting me and how awesome

that was. Ted pauses, assessing the best route onwards, and he clips on his crampons and steps onto the ice. It is a smaller alpine glacier, still a massive sheet of ice, but it's not some 20-mile-long river of ice. And alpine glaciers tend to be smaller, and they also tend to be steeper, too. You know, they're usually tucked back and stuck up against the side of the mountain. So they're smaller, but seemingly more dangerous, I suppose. Despite appearances, glaciers are not static. Under the pressure of their own immense weight, they flow imperceptibly. They can shift hundreds of meters every year depending on conditions.

Some parts move faster than others, especially on steeper terrain. Over time, this uneven movement creates weaknesses in the ice, causing it to crack. As he climbs, Ted keeps scanning the snow-covered surface ahead. He notes the soft folds in the distance, fractures in the ice pack, possibly crevasses that could be tens or hundreds of feet deep. Glacier travel is always dangerous, you know. Even if there's not huge crevasses all over the place, you still never know. You're walking on a sheet of ice,. You never know what's going to happen. I do remember that there were some refrigerator-sized blocks of ice,

blue ice, who had fallen off the glacier at some point. And walking by those and just being in awe of how big they were. I mean, they were like car-sized, you know, pieces of ice. And they were crystal clear blue. About halfway up the glacier ted spies a rocky ridge line ahead jutting up out of the ice it should lead him right to the top of mount jackson but it's almost 2pm he'll need to move fast to summit and descend before sunset ted maneuvers to the ridge and begins clambering over huge granite slabs.

They're stacked one on top of the other, like giant stepping stones. But as the afternoon wears on, the weather turns again. The slabs of rock quickly become slick underfoot. I remember scrambling up one and I started to slide down. And it was at that point that I made the decision that it's getting too late in the day. The weather is starting to move in and the face is really getting slick. And so I actually made the good decision to descend. At that point, it just seemed like the right thing to do is to turn around because it didn't feel safe to me at that point anymore.

Ted takes one last look up towards the summit of Mount Jackson. It's frustrating, but he knows it's the right call. He turns and faces back down, trying to figure out the quickest way back. He could return via the slippery, downward slanting rocks, or he could descend the glacier at its steepest point. Neither option is ideal. That was a little scary feeling because, you know, you're kind of feeling like you're high and dry and what do I do? Do I go back the way I came or do I try to descend the glacier? And so my thought process was, you know, I'm just going to descend the glacier and I should be just fine.

And I've spent a lot of time in the mountains before. You know, you can descend the glacier or the snow field pretty fast. Ted decides to try and boot ski down the glacier. He'll do his best to stay upright while skidding and sliding a few feet at a time. I wanted to descend the glacier quickly, and so I thought I could boot ski. So instead of putting on my crampons and getting on my ice axe, which are, of course, things that keep you safe and keep you from falling and slipping, I neglected to do that. I thought, oh, well, I don't need these things. I mean, it was the biggest mistake I've ever made in my life, I thought, oh, well, I don't need these things. I mean, it was the biggest mistake

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Ted takes one final look down. Where he stood, the incline is gentle, before becoming much steeper. But the snow looks thick enough, and he can't see any obvious dangers. I'm at the top, and I'm looking down it, and I was scanning for crevasses to make sure that there were no crevasses, right? So my thought process is, if I fall, I'm going to slide a long, long way. But eventually this glacier peters out, right? It doesn't just drop off into the void. So my plan was, if I fall, just to ride it out and I'll be fine.

He checks the straps on his backpack and tightens his boot laces. Then, trekking poles in hand he steps out i found out that beneath that intro two or three inches of what looked like snow or slush was of course bulletproof alpine ice and i immediately fell so i fell on my back. My feet came out from under me and I just fell. So I'm now, you know, practically sledding down the glacier. I'm building up speed. And, you know, in the beginning, it all happened so quickly. But it didn't seem like it was that big a deal.

Ted tries to use his poles to slow himself, but instead he gains speed. His pole tips skittering off the frozen surface. It's like a luge on a sled because it's ice. And so I'm just gaining more and more and more speed, and I cannot stop. And it went from kind of an exciting, wow, this is a wild ride, to, oh, God, I'm in trouble. And I specifically remember that of, this is not funny anymore. You know, this could be real serious.

Ted slides faster and faster down the glacier. He tries to dig in with the heels of his boots. He claws at the frozen mountainside with his bare hands. To no avail. Chunks of ice and snow spray into his face, temporarily blinding him. Still sliding, he frantically wipes his eyes, eventually dislodging enough powder to see where he is headed. As I keep descending, I notice in front of me when I clear my eyes that there is in fact a gaping crevasse right in front of me.

And I have no option to try to get over it or around it. It's right in my path of descent. It's all happening so fast, but it's also like time is standing still because you're processing everything so quickly, and then you see this crevasse in front of you, and your mind goes into overtime, and you go into survival mode, and you think, oh, my gosh, this might be it. And so as I was sliding down towards it i didn't know

if this was 200 feet deep or 20 feet deep or 5 feet deep or what it was all i knew is that i could see a big crack in the ice and that i was going to go straight into it he has mere seconds left he tries desperately to formulate a plan. If he pushes off the ice with his feet at the very lip of the crevasse, he could jump the gap like a snowboarder. Flying on his back towards the precipice, Ted waits until the very last possible moment. Then he pushes down with everything he's got.

I really am barreling down the ice, like, you know, sliding super fast. I tried to plant my feet, and I tried to jump over the crevasse. And it just didn't happen. And I slammed into the front wall of the crevasse. Next thing you know, it was one of those moments where it's like you're in a car wreck. Everything's jumbled and dark and completely disorienting. Ted opens his eyes. Slowly they adjust to the gloom. His head is spinning.

He seems to be lying on wet bedrock at the bottom of the crevasse. He's still wearing his backpack, which probably broke his fall. Gingerly, he cranes his neck to study the slick walls of ice towering 30 or 40 feet above him. His body feels numb. I couldn't fathom what happened. It was so hard to believe that I was in the situation that I was in. And I remember thinking, this can't possibly be happening to me right now. This has got to be some kind of a bad dream.

This is not real. This incident did not just take place. But as Ted shifts his weight, a searing pain tears through his back. My back pain was so horrific. I mean, it was excruciating pain like I'd never experienced in my life. This was hard to describe pain.

And I knew, of course, at that moment that this was all very real, what was happening. After a second or two, he tries moving his legs, but he can't. I think I landed on my feet and my weight just collapsed my body and so I hit my back. And so I was paralyzed,

which I didn't realize till about, I don't know, a minute or two maybe after I'd been down there because I was just so disoriented. And so from the waist down, I could feel absolutely nothing. And as I looked at my legs, I remember thinking, what's going on? Why aren't they working? This doesn't make any sense. And I was moving my legs with my arms. So I was picking them up and they were so heavy. And I was moving them around and I started to freak out a little bit.

I'm like, oh my God, I'm paralyzed. I'm paralyzed. I can't move. What am I going to do? How am I going to get out of here? Out of all the scary moments that happened that day, that was probably the scariest. Ted lies back. He stares up at the sliver of light some 40 feet above him.

His teeth chatter, but his breath clouds around his face. It was cold on top of the glacier, but down here in the darkness, under the ice, it's far, far colder. Maybe below zero. Suddenly, Ted remembers his phone is in his pocket. He fumbles with the screen, trying to unlock it with trembling fingers. But when he does, he sees the service bar is empty.

That's that, Ben. I knew I had very limited time. I thought I was going to freeze to death I probably would have survived my injury but I knew that I would have frozen to death Still holding his phone Ted navigates to the camera app and presses record

Shakerly he pans the lens around, documenting the hopelessness of his situation. Just then, he feels a powerful urge to speak to his parents. He starts recording a video message. At least when they find his body, they'll have some explanation of how their son died. I didn't think I was going to get out. I mean, I thought my chances were slim to none to get out.

My parents and I have a great relationship. So, you know, I wanted them to know that I love them and they had a great time. And if I didn't make them out or make it out of the crevasse, well, you know, it's been a pleasure knowing you. I mean, it really was a goodbye video for my parents. Ted ends the recording and lets his hand drop back by his feet. Then, a dull ache. Slowly, but surely, the feeling is returning to his legs.

As he feels his strength growing, Ted's spirits soar. It's like a starting pistol has gone off in his head. All thoughts of dying are suddenly banished. It happened real fast. That's, I don't want to die down here. I'm going to do everything I possibly can to get out. I don't want search and rescue to find me down here dead. So I'm going to do everything with my power to get out.

Still lying down, Ted carefully takes off his rucksack and unzips it. He pulls on his fleece-lined jacket, and he pulls out his crampons and ice axe. There's only one option. He'll have to climb out. But he can still barely move. Ted has no way of knowing, but he's fractured multiple vertebrae. What's more, a shard of splintered bone is now pressing into his spinal cord. One wrong move, one slip, stumble or fall could leave him paralyzed. Ted rolls over and pushes himself onto his feet,

leaning on his ice axe for support. And I got to my feet, all the while just having the worst pain ever. I mean, unbelievable, like unthinkable pain. And I'm hunched over and I'm kind of walking around in the bottom of the crevasse and looking up and looking down and looking right to see which way I can go. And crevasse like i said was hit bedrock but as i moved to my right the bedrock dropped away and there was a massive chasm under the ice ted isn't at the bottom at all he's landed a ledge, and below him is a yawning void.

If he'd fallen a few feet to his right, he'd already be dead. Swallowing hard, he scans for a possible route out. The back wall slants towards him in an overhang. That's out of the question. The front wall is more promising. It's steep, but not vertical. That's out of the question. The front wall is more promising. It's steep, but not vertical. Ted hobbles over and kicks his crampon into the ice as hard as his back allows.

Then he reaches upwards and thrusts the ice axe in. He has no idea how he's going to do this. He's not an experienced ice climber. Even without a broken back, and even with the right kit, this would push him to his limits. When you're ice climbing, you have crampons on both of your feet, right? And ideally, you have ice axes in both of your hands. Well, I only had one ice axe. When I take that ice axe out to swing higher, right, to try to ascend out, how am I going to stay adhered to the wall?

You know, I mean, what's going to keep me from falling back? So the thought of that was, when I was climbing, was unbelievably scary. But that being said, I slowly inched my way up. Each time he frees his axe, Ted breathes in and presses his face and body into the ice. His free hand claws at the surface, searching desperately for finger holds. At any moment, he could fall into the void. But he just keeps edging upwards, his whole body shaking with the effort.

A few minutes later, miraculously, Ted's axe bites into the lip of the crevasse. He pokes his head above the surface. Brilliant sunlight streams through the clouds, blinding him. With one last push, Ted pulls himself over the ledge and back onto the surface of the glacier. He lies on his front, breathing hard and shivering uncontrollably. Though, compared to where he's just been, the temperature up here is almost pleasant. I was only in the crevasse for 15 or 20 minutes. I wasn't down there for hours or anything like that. I was going to freeze to death.

It was so cold. Ted fights an overwhelming urge to rest. He knows he has to keep moving. But all around him are fissures and cracks in the ice. He's actually lying on a narrow snow bridge between the crevasse he just escaped and another chasm directly adjacent. One wrong move and it's curtains. So my back is in such bad shape and I'm in such bad shape that I'm concerned about now falling into the next crevasse in front of me. You know, because I'm so unstable. My back is shot. I mean, all your mechanics are not working nearly like you want them to.

Ted grits his teeth and starts to crawl. I laid down on my side as much as that hurt, and I inched across. I like caterpillared for feet, maybe 10 or 15 feet, with my ice axe in the ice. I felt that that was safer than walking because I was so unstable. And so I just inched my way 15 feet until I was clear of that crevasse. But while that obstacle has been navigated, it's almost 3 p.m. now, and there's only about two hours of daylight left. His car is eight miles away. He's not safe yet. Not by a long shot.

Straining every sinew, Ted pushes himself up off the snow and clambers to his feet. Leaning heavily on his axe, he sets off down the glacier. Slowly. Finally, he makes it to the bottom. But he still can't rest. His next goal is to get to the lake. At this gun-side lake area, there's a campground. And when I passed there earlier in the day, I remember seeing people gathered and people camping. So, you know, I was assuming that they'd still be there. So when I got out of the crevasse, cleared the other crevasse, I started the three-mile descent across incredibly rocky, shelvy terrain down to the campground where I was hoping to find people. Ted lurches along just a few more miles.

The trail narrows. It's been raining all day, turning parts of it into a bog. Suddenly he loses his footing. He collapses in a crumpled heap, writhing in agony. He forces himself back up. Even slower than before, Ted continues down the path, but he slips again and again.

Then he sees the bear markings he noticed on the way up. That's the last thing he needs right now. In one hand, I had my ice axe, like I was using as a cane. And I, in the other hand, I had my ice axe, like I was using as a cane. And I, and the other hand, I took my bear spray out in case I happened to run into a bear on the trail. So I was descending terribly, you know, in a broken back stupor with bear spray in one hand and my ice axe on the other hand. It was horrendous, yeah. It was the most precarious, weird-looking walk

you've ever seen. It's around 5pm. The daylight is fading fast. Almost two hours after leaving the glacier, Ted lurches out of the trees, back into the meadow surrounding Gunsight Lake. He just prays that those campers are somewhere nearby.

Rounding a final bend, those prayers are answered. Right in front of him, perched on a rock, are two hikers. And I will never forget when I saw those people. I wandered up to them. I really did stumble up to them.

And they said something like, hey, are you all right? And I said, yeah, I just fell in a crevasse in the Jackson Glacier. And they said, you did what? I was like, I just fell and crawled out of a crevasse in the Jackson Glacier. And they couldn't believe what I was telling them. Before long, I had a group of about eight or 10 people surrounding me, gathering around me, because the word had spread

that there had been an accident. Two of the campers are first aiders. They immediately set about trying to make Ted comfortable. They ease him onto an inflatable mattress, then they carefully wrap him in sleeping bags and slip extra pairs of socks onto his feet but there's not much they can do for the pain one of them had tylenol or some kind of over-the-counter pain medication but somebody had brought either a flask or a nip i'll will never forget she goes, do you want to, you know, do you want a

swig of this? And I said, I don't really drink liquor. And I said, you know what? Absolutely. With dusk settling, there is a hurried discussion of what to do next. Someone suggests going for help immediately, but others are concerned about running into bears. Someone else suggests trying the satellite phone for the emergency services. They ask Ted what he thinks. Now he's lying down. He does feel a little better. He is of course unaware of the severity of his injuries. And as trivial as it might seem, phoning Mountain Rescue from here would incur a massive bill. Ted tells them to hold off. He doesn't want to cause any more trouble.

He can wait until morning. I didn't want to inconvenience them. I do remember telling them, you guys, I'm so sorry I'm inconveniencing your camping trip. I felt bad for these... They're having a great time in the backcountry camping and here I am ruining their trip. The decision is made that two of the campers will hike down

at first light and alert the park rangers. As night falls, one by one they crawl into their tents to bed down. Ted's back has seized up, and moving again is too painful. So he spends the night under the stars, tucked up on his inflatable mattress. Sleep eludes him.

It truly was the longest night ever. The worst thing I could possibly do was check the time, and I kept checking the time. And what seemed like an hour or two had gone by was eight or nine minutes. I mean, time stood still that night. It truly did. The sound of birdsong comes as a relief, as does the first glimmer of the rising sun. Before anyone else wakes, a deer wanders into the clearing and nibbles at the colorful wildflowers. It stops and stares at Ted for a minute, its dark brown eyes almost sympathetic. Soon there's movement in the tents. Two of the campers get up and head straight off to find help.

Another comes and sits with Ted. When the sun came up in the morning, a woman named Janet came out and she sat next to me for hours and just held my hand. She talked to me. We talked about all kinds of stuff. She was trying to take my mind off the pain. And Janet sat by my side for quite a few hours the next morning. I will never forget that. Finally, at around 10 a.m., a faraway whir cuts through the stillness. The campers who went for help had run straight into a ranger at the foot of the first trail. He wasted no time in calling an air ambulance.

Trees bend and leaves are scattered as the rescue team comes into land. When the helicopter started coming in, when I heard the rotors of the helicopter, Janet, she was sitting next to me holding my hand. She looks up and then she looked at me as she heard the helicopter and she said, that's for you, which was pretty awesome. Moments later, two medics rush to Ted's side. After a quick assessment, they administer synthetic morphine and maneuver him onto a stretcher. With the help of these awesome campers and the paramedics, I got loaded into the helicopter,

and next thing you know, I'm on my way to Kalispell Regional Medical Center, and I was there in probably 25 or 30 minutes. Ted is taken directly to the emergency room, where the doctors do some initial tests and take x-rays. The emergency room doctor, really nice guy. And he asked me, he goes, what do you think happened? And so I made some joke. I said, I think I pulled my back really badly.

He goes, well, you did much more than that. You broke your back really badly. I had a burst fracture in my L2, I believe. And apparently it's called a burst fracture because you hit so hard that your vertebrae bursts apart. So, I mean, I had pretty much lost a vertebrae. I had hit so hard, my spine had compressed, and my vertebrae was so impacted by the force that it blew out. Ted calls his parents. But then another doctor bursts in with more bad news. He's going straight to the operating theater. The anesthesiologist came in when I was in the emergency room.

I was on the phone with my parents and he said, get off the phone immediately. We're going into emergency surgery. A bone fragment, a piece of my vertebrae that had blown apart was pushing into my spinal cord. It had broken off kind of like a spear or an arrow point. Now, it hadn't penetrated the spinal cord wall yet, but you could see visibly that it was pushing in a side of it. And the doctor told me, he said, if this bone spur penetrates your spinal cord, you could be looking at partial or full paralysis.

When Ted wakes from surgery, he's informed that the operation has gone to plan. I have two rods and eight screws in my back holding me together. I have five vertebrae fused. I'd also had a cervical fracture as well in my vertebrae, and so my back was just shot. It was terribly destroyed. After a few days of stationary recovery,

his rehab program begins. Time is of the essence if he is to regain full mobility. Well, apparently they get you up pretty soon because your muscle memory starts to go away and you need to learn sooner rather than later how to walk again. I completely could not walk. So the physical therapy nurses were incredible people. They taught me how to walk again. A week later, Ted is discharged from hospital.

He flies to his family home in Kansas City. Despite the successful surgery and physiotherapy, despite the fact that it could have all been so much worse, Ted must come to terms with his new reality. His life has changed forever. I suffered such a severe injury that my body will never be the same again. I have gone through physical therapy, acupuncture, you know, yoga, meditation. I've gone through all kinds of therapies, you know, some drug related, you know, pain pills kind of stuff, some holistic, I've gone through everything, and unfortunately, none of them have provided much alleviation.

So, you know, I go through days still where I'm extremely happy to be alive, of course, and happy to walk. But I also have suffered from chronic pain for over 10 years now. But even with all he's been through and still endures, Ted continues to seek out the positives. I'm in pain all the time. So it's tough to enjoy things the way you used to enjoy them. But that hasn't stopped me from still getting out

and climbing mountains and hiking and enjoying life and adventuring. And I'm still very much active. I go to the gym all the time. So, you know, for a survival comeback, you know, I think I'm a pretty good example of what you can do even with a horrific injury. In the next episode, we meet mountaineer Stephen Venables. In 1992, he's part of a group exploring a remote region of the Indian Himalayas.

In the final days of the trip, they make a daring dash to the summit of an unclimbed peak. But as all mountaineers know, getting back down is often an even bigger challenge. In white-out conditions, the treacherous, adrenalizing descent will nearly cost Stephen his life. That's next time on Real Survival Stories. You can listen to Stephen's story right now as a Noisa Plus subscriber.