Survivor Guilt & Moving On

[Phill the Thrill]

I may very well be the last person to have seen Sudheer alive:

http://publications.americanalpineclub. ... Longs-Peak

I met him near the top of the Trough, he was dressed just as the article described. We stopped and chatted for a minute. Found out he worked at HP, lived in Ft Collins and that we had some mutual acquaintances. He asked how far he had to go and I told him that he had about 3/4 of a mile and 500' in elevation to go (I think that's accurate, but I'm not sure). Gave him some food, a gel pack, and told him to go for it.

When I got to the Keyhole, the weather seemed to turn nastier. There was a huge ominous gust of wind. I saw his 2 friends waiting in the shelter there. They looked super concerned and I remember feeling really bad for them because it was getting a little scary out there.

2 mornings later, I ran into our mutual acquaintance and told him I met his friend on the mountain. He told me about Sudheer dying. They found him at the summit. I was in shock, but I was and still am very mad at myself for giving him encouragement, when I knew he was dressed inappropriately for the conditions and that he was extremely tired.

Thanks for sharing this story. It's easy to imagine this kind of thinking happening to anyone of us. How many times have I encouraged someone who has asked how far is it to the summit?

[Somewhat of a Prick]

Hi all, I don't post much on here, but do enjoy reading some of the threads. This particular one is close to my heart. 20 years ago (July 5, 1997), I was with 3 other people doing the Wilson group. I had already done all of the peaks (other than Gladstone) and the other 3 hadn't done any of them. We all hiked Wilson Peak together from the Rock of Ages mine, and that went well. But there was still a ton of snow in Navajo basin and I and one other person didn't think we were equipped to travel there let alone summit Mt. Wilson or El Diente, which are more difficult peaks. So after a bit of discussion, we parted ways - the other person and I traversed the ridge towards Gladstone as it was relatively dry. The other two went towards Mt. Wilson. A little before noon, my partner and I were very close to the summit of Gladstone and there were two people ahead of us. We had left the ridge proper to get around an obstacle, and I was slightly uphill from him. I stepped up on a boulder, it moved, and the whole slope we were on started to slide - large pieces of talus and boulders all tumbling down. I closed my eyes and was pretty sure I was going to die, as I was helpless against the power of the huge moving rocks. So I closed my eyes and just became limp - waiting for fate to take over. But then it stopped, and I was able to wiggle out of the debris that was covering me. I was bleeding badly from my head (I later learned I cracked my skull above the neck), my arms and hands were lacerated and scraped, and my ankles were badly sprained. Dust was in the air, and I couldn't find my partner. I panicked - I knew that I was in bad shape and was scared to go back into the rocks. I was convinced he was dead, but I wasn't sure. Should I risk going out there and finding him? Or should I try and go for help? He's GOT to be dead - look at those huge Boulders. I called his name - nothing. How much time do I have - I'm bleeding a lot, and getting weaker. I figure I have an hour or two of adrenaline in me, and since I was pretty sure he couldn't have survived, and that I couldn't help. I made the difficult decision to leave and get help. I stumbled and limped and bled my way back towards near the trail head, but didn't quite make it as my ankles were too painful. But I finally found some people and they helped me down the rest of the way. Somebody went into town and notified search and rescue; I was taken to the hospital in Montrose. While I was getting stitched up, stapled, scanned, and x-rayed, a doctor told me that a search dog found his body and he had died. I later learned from his family (who identified the body) that he was badly damaged, and barely recognizable. I felt (and still feel) terrible about what happened. I visited the family more than once, shared pictures (from my previous trip there), told the story as honestly as I could, and felt horribly guilty. It took me a few months to recover physically, after the healing process. But emotionally - I don't know. I don't think the family blames me, and I don't think we did anything inherently dangerous. But to this day (20 years later) I struggle. Why did I survive and he did not? So many questions - so many times re-living every minute of that day (and weekend). It was a striking reminder of our mortality, and gave me a new-found sense of gratitude for life. I've heard that Gladstone is not quite as loose as it used to be (since more people have climbed it). But it scares me and I have not been back.

Sorry to hear your story, that has to be very difficult. I hiked Gladstone last weekend and I found it terrifying, the large loose rocks...I'll never forget. It's definitely a mountain I'll never repeat.


The worst accident I witnessed in the mountains left a scar on me, even though nobody perished. I wrote a brief write-up about the accident here at the end of the TR: https://www.14ers.com/php14ers/triprepo ... m=tripmine

Seeing that climber get clipped by a huge rock and then disappear out of my sight was the more horrifying thing I have ever seen. I can still replay the accident in slow motion in my head, and I often do. This was over two years ago now, and it still feels like yesterday for me. My risk tolerance has definitely been reduced because of this, which is probably a good thing. I'm a bit disappointed in myself for doing Gladstone last week, mainly due to this accident. The entire time I was on that ridge I was watching my death replay in my head over and over and over and over again. In my head I was watching my wife get a phone call letting her know I had died. This went on for over 5 hours while we were on that ridge, I was trying to shake these thoughts so I could stay focused...but I couldn't. It was a living nightmare for me. Once we got back to the ROA saddle to head down after successfully hiking this peak I felt a weight lift off me like I never have felt before.

It was a very unhealthy and mentally draining day for me, I can't go through that on a mountain again.

[Phill the Thrill]

ortegajv, thanks for sharing your story. What a terrible ordeal, and so tragic to lose a climbing partner like that. It takes a lot of strength to overcome an experience like that.

[MtnHub]

Darin,

First of all, thank you for opening up yourself and sharing your experience with us. To expose your soul so publicly takes a lot of courage and I commend you for it. I think we can all learn a lot by this discussion and I also want to thank others who have chimed in with additional thoughts and insights.

It’s always sad and tragic to see a new thread about a death or accident occurring in the backcountry. For anyone who has lived through or witnessed such an event first hand would truly be horrific. My heart goes out to you, Darin, and anyone else who’s had such a personal experience.

And I don’t mean to sound ghoulish in any way, but I do believe it is good to have timely and regular discussions on death and loss. It’s simply all too easy to get caught up in the moment and forget about our own mortality and that there are real and significant dangers when climbing. We need to be reminded frequently to remain aware of them and be proactive to keep the risk of those dangers at bay.

I think topics like this are especially valuable for any newer members who are perhaps unaware of certain risks because they are less experienced or naïve to some of the dangers involved. Heuristic traps, as you stated, are also easy to fall into for the more advanced climber.

While I’ve never been the one to ‘helpfully’, and with all good intentions, encourage someone else through something they were not comfortable doing, I’ve been the recipient of that on a few occasions. Fortunately, they have all worked out.

It can be very difficult to tell a friend or trusted partner that you don’t feel comfortable with a particular obstacle you may face along the way. But I caution anyone, if you see red flags flashing in your mind and you don’t feel right about a particular move or route that someone else is pressuring you to try, stand up for yourself. DON’T DO IT! It’s not worth the risk to find out! All decisions within in a group should be universal or at least provide some adequate and safe alternative for each member.

Climb on but climb safe!

[snowypeaks]

This is one of the more thoughtful threads on this site and thank you to those who have contributed. On any perfectly fine day, life can go horribly wrong. It can happen to anyone. Best wishes to all on the road ahead.

[cdgibbons]

Agree to the thoughtfulness and vulnerability of this thread. I really appreciate everyone who has shared.

I wrote this piece two years ago after an accident on North Maroon (referenced above) from which I'm now fully recovered and back to climbing.
https://www.14ers.com/forum/viewtopic.php?f=28&t=48205

I think my perspective on accidents remains very much the same today.

I fear that when an accident takes place, the dialogue too often seeks to reduce the analysis to either a cause of poor judgment or a cause of poor luck- something of which I too often have been guilty. While a single incident might have more of one than the other (and only those involved know for sure), so many have components of both. It's incumbent on all of us to own making our preparations and judgment as safe as we possibly can, while also owning the risk involved in an inherently risky, and therefore more exciting, activity.

[polar]

Thanks to all who have shared your story. Since so many of you have been close to an accident, I want to mention something you may or (may not) know already, accident survivors can and often do suffer from PTSD. This was something that I was taught when I was guiding. Many of my coworkers went to the aftermath of 2008 Sichuan earthquake to help with the rescue/recovery effort, and some were affected by PTSD. We generally associate PTSD with war, but anyone who has gone through a traumatic experience (accident in the mountains for example) can suffer the same. This can include survivors, witnesses, first responders, people who helped out after, anyone who was close to an accident. Symptoms can include flashbacks or nightmares, depression, anxiety, insomnia, loss of interest in things you used to enjoy, etc. If you notice any of the symptoms in yourself or your loved ones, definitely reach out for help. There are many organizations out there that can help, PTSD is not something you should suffer alone.

[jpieta24]

I'm happy to have found this thread. I have been struggling the past couple days with the death of Jamie Rupp on Challenger Point Sunday. I was with him earlier that day. He missed the turn down from Kit Carson and ended up 300' or so down the gully and yelled to me for help with how to get back up. I told him to come straight to me, it was the best route and he said okay, but he would need help. I gave me poles and pack to my friend and climbed down to him. We exchanged hellos and I took his poles and said "you're okay" and he said "no, I'm not" I replied "but you will be okay, I'll get you back to the avenue", and I did get him back. He almost fell backwards off and I caught him with my hand and again told him he was going to be okay. He said "Thank you, you just saved my life." He fell to his death about an hour later. I was holding the pole that snapped under his weight. I knew that he wasn't okay. He was struggling so much, he didn't know the route, he was exhausted and unsteady. I keep going over it in my head that I should have stayed with him, told him to wait until I came down from KC, maybe I shouldn't have been so selfish about bagging a 14-er to help someone that I know needed it. I sent him on his way and he didn't make it home. When we were descending Challenger, someone yelled up to us that there was a body and I knew instantly it was him. I said "it's Jamie" and my stomach dropped out. Without knowing exactly where he was, it wasn't safe to go searching the gully so we continued down and tried to wave SAR to the right spot. I should have found him and I should have stayed with him, all night if I had to, so he didn't have to be alone. No one we were with took the decision of not searching lightly, we all encountered him that day at some point. Someone told me "there is an older gentleman, he's struggling, his name is Jamie, if you could check in on him if you see him" , a group on the summit said they saw him struggling and gave him some encouragement so he could get back. I know he wasn't my friend and I didn't have to see him fall, but it's hitting me a lot harder than I thought it would. Because maybe I could have done something. We know the risks we take but it always seems far enough away to disconnect. I've been put on my ass about the reality of those risks and my heart goes out to the people who have lost loved ones to them.

[MountainMetaphor]

I'm happy to have found this thread. I have been struggling the past couple days with the death of Jamie Rupp on Challenger Point Sunday. I was with him earlier that day. He missed the turn down from Kit Carson and ended up 300' or so down the gully and yelled to me for help with how to get back up. I told him to come straight to me, it was the best route and he said okay, but he would need help. I gave me poles and pack to my friend and climbed down to him. We exchanged hellos and I took his poles and said "you're okay" and he said "no, I'm not" I replied "but you will be okay, I'll get you back to the avenue", and I did get him back. He almost fell backwards off and I caught him with my hand and again told him he was going to be okay. He said "Thank you, you just saved my life." He fell to his death about an hour later. I was holding the pole that snapped under his weight. I knew that he wasn't okay. He was struggling so much, he didn't know the route, he was exhausted and unsteady. I keep going over it in my head that I should have stayed with him, told him to wait until I came down from KC, maybe I shouldn't have been so selfish about bagging a 14-er to help someone that I know needed it. I sent him on his way and he didn't make it home. When we were descending Challenger, someone yelled up to us that there was a body and I knew instantly it was him. I said "it's Jamie" and my stomach dropped out. Without knowing exactly where he was, it wasn't safe to go searching the gully so we continued down and tried to wave SAR to the right spot. I should have found him and I should have stayed with him, all night if I had to, so he didn't have to be alone. No one we were with took the decision of not searching lightly, we all encountered him that day at some point. Someone told me "there is an older gentleman, he's struggling, his name is Jamie, if you could check in on him if you see him" , a group on the summit said they saw him struggling and gave him some encouragement so he could get back. I know he wasn't my friend and I didn't have to see him fall, but it's hitting me a lot harder than I thought it would. Because maybe I could have done something. We know the risks we take but it always seems far enough away to disconnect. I've been put on my ass about the reality of those risks and my heart goes out to the people who have lost loved ones to them.

Thanks for having the courage to post this. I am so sorry you are struggling and I know you will get lots of support from everyone on here, whether they all post a reply or not.

As the cliche goes, hindsight is 20/20. You did what felt right to you at the time. It is very hard to know when to take charge and when to step back when helping out a stranger--or even a friend, for that matter. We are all the "boss" of ourselves, and we're socially conditioned to respect that as much as possible until the circumstances starkly command us to step in and take charge of another's well-being. Which is exactly what you did when he fell backwards: you braced him and you did save his life in that moment. Give yourself permission to feel good about that because what ultimately happened later does not negate that life-saving deed. What happened is in no way your fault; you can't put the responsibility on yourself to override what ultimately were Jamie Rupp's poor decisions. Only he could know whether he had the strength to keep going, or not--and as we all know, it's all too easy to underestimate our fatigue, overestimate our abilities, and make the wrong decisions for ourselves. We can't expect others to know better for us--and I'm sure he did not expect that of you or anyone else. I'm sure he was very grateful for your kindness, help, and encouragement.

You did the best you could in that moment, as did Jamie. What happened is no one's fault. Please don't allow yourself to think otherwise.

[polar]

I know he wasn't my friend and I didn't have to see him fall, but it's hitting me a lot harder than I thought it would. Because maybe I could have done something.

I echo the sentiments above. It’s normal to question ourselves after an accident if there’s anything we could’ve done differently, but each of us go into the mountains accepting a certain level of risk, and ultimately we are responsible for our own actions. You helped Dr. Rupp in the ways you could, I don’t think anyone can ask more of you. I'm sorry you had to go through this struggle, and condolences to Dr. Rupp's families and friends.

[mattpayne11]

Damn man, this is powerful stuff, thanks for posting it. I had a near miss with my best friend and I had all kinds of awful thoughts running through my mind during the event...

Great post - thanks!

[Phill the Thrill]

jpieta24: I'm sorry for the anguish you're going through. Thank you for sharing so many details. It's just a terrible tragedy, and I can see no reason to criticize your actions in the least. In fact, you really were a "good Samaritan" in doing all that you did, and I can imagine that I'd do exactly the same in that situation, and like you I would be sitting here wishing I had done more. It's a terrible feeling, and I hope you recover soon.

The friends and family of Dr. Rupp are in my thoughts and prayers. I know I will be thinking of Dr. Rupp and his loved ones when I'm climbing next weekend. Peace to you all.