It had been snowing for over 24 hours, but the storm was set to clear out just in time for first light. My friend Jordi Tenas, who is a professional skier, and I had spent and camping under the towering Cerro Torrecillas near Las Le帽as Ski Resort in Argentina. It had been a dry winter in the Southern Hemisphere, and we were heading back to Spain in a few days. But our luck with the聽weather was about to change, so we extended our trip by an extra day to nail perfect snow conditions.

The plan was to wake up early, climb in the dark, and ski back down to camp at first light. From there, we鈥檇 break down the tent, head back to our apartment in town and pack up a season鈥檚 worth of gear before catching the last bus out of Las Le帽as.

We forced ourselves into sleeping bags and set an alarm for 6 A.M. Little did we know, that alarm would never come.

We woke up to a jolting impact against the tent wall, and we were pushed by a relentless river of snow that tossed and churned us as we struggled to free our arms from our sleeping bags. The roof of the tent caved in聽and squeezed against our bodies as it dragged underneath a massive avalanche. When it all finally stopped and the basin went silent once again, we couldn鈥檛 move our bodies from the waist down. My arms were just loose enough to keep an air pocket open, and I could faintly hear Jordi beside me.

We had known our tent was in a basin and potentially at risk for聽avalanches, but, perched up on a hill of glacial deposit, we thought any slides would have a whole bowl to fill before they reached our doorstep. I had expressed my concern to Jordi, yet in famous Jordi fashion, he confidently defended our safety, and I got lulled into believing it. After all, it would take a an avalanche of historic size聽to get anywhere close to where we were sleeping.

We never anticipated that a cornice would fall above us, or that it would be聽big enough send the whole bowl of snow聽crashing down鈥攑ersistent weak layer and all. I wouldn鈥檛 find out until later, but we were now buried under six feet of snow.

We whispered back and forth, and I could hear Jordi breathing. We both scolded each other for taking up too much air as things started to come in and out of focus. As my breathing got shallower, I realized it was still the middle of the night鈥攖hat no one would even realize we were gone until morning. We were going to die, I thought. That was the last thought that crossed my mind before I lost consciousness.

The next thing I remember is the ambulance door closing. I wasn鈥檛 sure where I was, but I was bundled in blankets instead of my sleeping bag. I was hypoxic and hypothermic, but I was still there. I wouldn鈥檛 find out until later, but Jordi wasn鈥檛 so lucky.

Our Las Le帽as roommate, a freeskier from Idaho, had noticed that we hadn’t聽arrive home that morning,聽and he had climbed up the nearest hill to get eyes on our ski zone. He saw a massive crown just peeking out over the ridge lines and rushed down to tell ski patrol. Equipped with two Pisten Bully snow cats and an avalanche dog, they took off to Cerro Torrecillas and started excavating the zone.

The season was done at the resort, so it鈥檚 a miracle rescuers from the ski area even came out that day. We were buried so deep, only the machines could dig us out. When they struck the tent, they were shocked to find me still breathing. I don鈥檛 remember getting loaded into the cat, and only barely remember pieces of the 125-mile drive to the hospital in San Rafael.聽Somehow I had been able to keep breathing in the same air pocket, yet Jordi had not. I survived being buried for 12 hours underneath and avalanche.

The interview with Txema Trull was conducted in Spanish and translated and edited for brevity and clarity by Kade Krichko鈥擡d.

The post Buried in an Avalanche, I Survived Over 12 Hours Underneath the Snow appeared first on 国产吃瓜黑料 Online.

On January 22, 2025, I hiked to the top of the Chief, a 2,303-foot granite monolith in Squamish, British Columbia for what I thought would be a casual BASE jump. I鈥檝e done it over 100 times. It鈥檚 one of those jumps where you take off, open, fly to the parking lot, and land. There鈥檚 only one tricky spot: a corner ledge about 30 meters to the left after you jump鈥攖hat鈥檚 the main hazard to worry about. You don鈥檛 want to make a 90-degree turn into that corner.

After two months of traveling and BASE jumping in Patagonia, these would be my first jumps back in British Columbia. The day that I was leaving Chile, I packed my BASE rig in a rush. It was a messy pack job, and I was distracted on the phone with another jumper.

The wind calmed, but with the cross-breeze blowing I thought I should static line鈥攖hat’s the type of BASE jump where you tie the line that opens your parachute to an anchor on the rock so the action of jumping opens your chute. A static line is a safe way to jump for a windy day or a low jump.

I remembered that this was the pack job from Patagonia and made up my mind. I suggested my friend and I do a two-way jump, where we both leave the cliff at the same time. Since my parachute would open immediately as I jumped, the two of us wouldn鈥檛 collide.

We counted down, and, one after the other, we took off. My parachute opened in a 180-degree line twist to the left, and suddenly I was facing the cliff. Because of the twist, any input into the parachute with my control lines was useless.

I don’t know what ultimately went wrong. I assume it was some combination of my hasty pack job and the cross breeze. Maybe I’ll never know.

I reached for my lines but didn鈥檛 have time to look up because the wall was so close. I tried to fight it, but there was nothing to fight. I smashed into the wall with my whole body. The rest happened in five seconds. I smashed into the wall, trying to fight the parachute to fix my lines because I had some clearing air-wise. The parachute continued collapsing as I slid down the wall. Then the chute caught air again and I smashed into the wall once more. The crashing and sliding went on for a few seconds as I waited for the final impact. In those moments I knew I was ready to die or get really badly hurt. There was nothing below me but hundreds of meters of air.

Then my parachute caught a tree. I was left hanging鈥攁ir below me, air around me, nowhere to grab, nowhere to step. My first thought after the chaos died down and I caught my breath was, What am I hanging onto and how long is this going to take? I was in a panic for the next 20 minutes because I didn鈥檛 know if my tangled chute was going to hold. I called my boyfriend鈥攈e鈥檚 a jumper as well鈥攁nd said he needed to call 911 and get the search and rescue process going. I didn鈥檛 know how long I was going to be hanging, I might have gone at any moment.

I heard people above me screaming, and they probably had called for a rescue as well. Within five minutes, I saw cops and firemen below, but they couldn鈥檛 get to me from above. I waited鈥攄angling on the line.

I鈥檝e been part of rescues like this before with other jumpers and I knew that it was going to take a long time. I tried to assess my body. I had hurt my knee crashing into the wall and it was swelling up. My next problem was suspension trauma鈥攅xtended periods in a harness can restrict your blood flow and cause an injury鈥攂ecause I was fully hanging on one leg. I didn鈥檛 want to move an inch, because I was scared that if I moved, my parachute could give in and I would fall. I tried to look up at the parachute, but I couldn鈥檛 see what it was hanging on. I tried to look at the ledge below me, which was about 100 meters down, and I thought that at least I would have a very clean death if I fell.

After half an hour, my leg started going numb. I knew I had to take the weight off it to get blood flowing. After that much time, I felt better about the stability of whatever I was hanging on, so I pulled up on my risers to put the weight on my arms for a few seconds and immediately felt the blood rush into my leg. Some friends came up to rescue me with ropes on their own, but they decided to wait because they didn鈥檛 want to throw a rope that messed with the parachute and could cause me to fall.

It was the longest four hours of my life.

I was just trying to keep my mind occupied counting to 60 slowly ten times, trying to count minutes. Ten minutes of counting was 30 minutes in real time. Words came into my head, something like With the power in my mind I am pushing forward. I probably repeated that line a thousand times. I have no idea where it came from.

I thought of Toma啪 Humar, the great Slovenian alpinist and soloist who had a very bad, very famous rescue on Nanga Parbat that took six days. He was wet, cold, and stuck in a snow cave at 21,000 feet. My situation wasn鈥檛 even that bad, and he survived with the power of his mind. That鈥檚 all I could think of.

Two hours in, my body started to shut down. I just wanted to conserve the energy I needed. I was running out, and then all of a sudden I heard this voice: James, one of the SAR team members.

鈥淗ey Alenka, I know your dad.鈥� He was a few meters away from me. The moment he clipped me in, I felt everything I didn鈥檛 feel before. I felt cold. I felt my knee really hurting to the point where I was screaming. I just felt everything. I felt safe.

Alenka Mali walked away from her crash with nothing but a bruised knee. She told聽国产吃瓜黑料 that she doesn’t know why she is still alive, but that she believes there must be a reason. 鈥擡d.

The post My BASE Jumping Parachute Malfunctioned, But I Survived appeared first on 国产吃瓜黑料 Online.