National Geographic Expedition I

This is the Uruguayan Air Force Fairchild 572. The survivors crashed in the Fairchild 571. This one is now on the Airforce base in Montevideo. The inside is all gutted out.

Eduardo Strauch and Ricardo Peña inside the Fairchild 572. Dec 06, 2005.

Photo by James Vhalos

On December 7th Eduardo organized a dinner for Ricardo and James Vlahos where they got to talk to the survivors about a lot more details. From left to right: Top row: Daniel Fernandez and his wife, Zerbino's wife, Eduardo, Laura his wife, and their son Pedro. Bottom row: Laura
(Roberto's wife), Roberto Canessa, Gustavo Zerbino, Ricardo, Fito Strauch and his wife.

Here is Eduardo's passport showing the stamp of the fateful day...Friday the 13th of October, 1972. This is the passport Ricardo found inside Eduardo's coat high on the mountain on February 12, 2005.
Photo by James Vlahos

The inside of the Fairchild 572 as it looks today.

Ricardo and Roberto Canessa discuss the route while looking through Google Earth, while Moncho Sabella looks over their shoulders.
Photo by James Vlahos

The airplane compass, boots, belt and clothing used by Roberto Canessa to escape the Andes.
Photo by James Vlahos

Ricardo, Roberto Canessa and his wife, Laura Surraco. Laura was Roberto's girlfriend at the time of the accident. She knitted one of those sweaters for Roberto.

Photo by James Vlahos

These sunglasses were made by Fito Strauch out of materials found in the plane: a visor from the pilot's cabin, plastic from the flight plan's folder, wire from the cabin, and a woman's bra provided the elastic band. Snow-blindness is a serious problem on a high altitude glacier.

One of the "blankets" used by Fito. These were made out of the the seat covers.
Photo by James Vlahos

Gustavo Zerbino wearing the shirt he wore for 72 days on the mountain and holding the other pilot's hat which he wore.
Photo by James Vlahos

The Andes as seen from the Argentinean side.

Driving into the Andes in 4x4 trucks.
Photo by James Vlahos

Crossing the Atuel river required crossing sections of it on foot...
Photo by James Vlahos

...and using a raft on the deeper parts of the river...
Photos by James Vlahos

...and finally horses.
Photo by James Vlahos

Horses were used until the snow got too deep to proceed.
Photo by James Vlahos

On this rock outcrop Mario Perez, James Vlahos and I said goodbye to our argentinean friends (Marquez on right) who went back with their horses. We did not see any other person for 7 days until we met with Chilean guide Mauricio Guerra at Los Maitenes, Chile.

At this point, we strapped on snow shoes, put our heavy packs on and pulled sleds up to the glacier, and the next day to the Valley of Tears where the survivors lived for 72 days. The valley and headwall are visible in the background.
Photo by Marquez

James Vlahos and Mario Perez (El Sosneado in the background) approach the "Glaciar de las lagrimas".

Finally after the sun set we reached the glacier. Getting on itrequired us to haul all of our gear up this very steep slope.

James took this picture of me as we approach the area where the tail was in 1972. This is on our way to the place on the glacier where the fuselage of the Fairchild 571 came to rest and where the survivors lived.

Photo by James Vlahos

Compare this photo (that James took of me on December 13, 2005, with the famous photo of Nando in the tail with the Adidas bag (the back cover of the Alive hard cover book). If you look carefully you will see that the upper right hand corner matches with this picture. This is the place where the tail was in 1972.

In an upcoming NG article (summer 2006) you will know more about further investigation we did in February 2006 regarding the fate of the tail.
Photo by James Vlahos

....and finally...here it is at last...the actual spot on the glacier where the fuselage came to stop after the crash and where the survivors lived for 72 days. Compare this photo to the famous photo of the survivors "sewing the sleeping bag". You will see the background is exactly the same. (you can see the picture on the book or on the survivors page: http://www.viven.com.uy/571/FotosIneditas.asp )

The remains of the fuselage are now buried in the glacier and not visible. To be here on the same day (December 14) as the survivors had been (but 33 years later) looking at this valley completely covered in snow like they did and feeling the cold temperatures that are common at this time of the year really brought home the isolation they must have felt. It was quite challenging to get to this place with these conditions. They were right...a land rescue would have been very difficult.
Photo by James Vlahos

This is the view north from where the plane was.

This picture also matches the one in the book that shows the track made by the fuselage. What neither photo reveals is how steep this slope really is (30-40º). You have to remember this picture is taken looking up! The plane came down between those rocks. The tail went left and the fuselage hit the flat spot where I am standing to take the picture.

The previous picture is looking south (where the plane came from). This is the view East from where they were. The memorial (with the cross) is visible on the lower right side.

...and this is the view West and the escape route! You are looking at almost 3000 vertical feet. The view from this close undermines the difficulty of climbing that wall. The survivors thought it would take them one day to get to the top. In fact it took them 3 days! We were forced to do it in one day (the day after this picture was taken) due to rock fall, ice fall, and avalanche danger, and it was brutal! Also, as you can see, the slope was so loaded with snow that there would have been nowhere to camp safely (digging a snow plataform into an avalanche prone slope is not a good idea).

Here is our camp on the valley. We were camped about 300 yds from the spot where the plane was to avoid avalanche danger.
Photo by James Vlahos

Climbing towards the headwall with a 60-65lb pack.
Photo by James Vlahos

Climbing the headwall. In order to avoid the crevasse in front of me I had to go right and expose myself and the team by going under that hanging glacier. The debris of yesterday's avalanche is visible on the picture.
Unfortunately that hanging glacier was losing car size chunks of ice almost everyday and at all times of the day and night, so it was impossible to
predict when the next one would come. This was pretty much a game of russian roulette.
Photo by James Vlahos

The snow was very soft. Here you can see me post-holing in thigh deep snow.
Photo by James Vlahos

This picture show the dangers encountered in documenting this. Shown here is James photographing Mario. Avalanche debris is visible, crevasses partially visible, and photographing all of this on an avalanche prone slope!

Hours later...higher up on the headwall.

This is probably the view that Roberto Canessa was looking at in 1972 when he saw the road. As you can see on this picture, the road is visible at the foot of El Sosneado (the big mountain in the background), though barely. Roberto was right, though it's understandable why Nando didn't want to go back.

Here is a composite of three pictures to show their view west when they finally reached the saddle (or the "top of the mountain" as they refer to it in the book). Visible are the two peaks without snow that they hoped would mark the end of the Andes in Chile. On the forefront you can see the gullies we had to descend to continue our trek to Chile. I am standing on the crest of the Andes at 14,800', the international border between Argentina and Chile.

The view north was just as discouraging as you can see from this picture of James that I took.

The view South reveals this summit (15,400'), which is the peak I climbed on February 2005 (see Discovery) to get a view of what Nando and Roberto had seen to the west. My route of ascent in February was via the ridge on the left side. This picture was taken from the top of a 15,000 ft summit which I climbed the same morning. Visible in the picture is our camp on the saddle (and James or Mario standing next to the tent). To the right is Chile, to the left Argentina.

Since this was most likely another previously unclimbed 15,000ft summit in the Andes, I snapped this picture of myself on the summit with El Brujo (a 16,000ft glaciated mountain with notable technical ascents) in the background.

Descending into Chile
Photo by James Vlahos

This is the gulley we followed. One of my concerns was that after 34 years of erosion (which is extreme in this part of the Andes) we would be stopped by a cliff. With the quality of rock being so rotten it could be imposible to set up a rappel and we would have to climb back up and try different routes until one worked.

This gulley kept us busy for hours...

...and at last I saw, with great relief, an opening without any technical obstacles.

Mario and Ricardo sliding down what is most likely the same place Nando slid down uncontrollably. Luckily for us the snow was very soft and easy to control.
Photo by James Vlahos

James Vlahos was an incredible person to have on this trip. Not only is he a great photographer and writer, but he is also a great person to climb with. Always easy going, considerate, strong and positive. It was very rewarding to become close friends with him during this incredible expedition.

This was the valley that opened up after the gullies. To give you a sense of the size of this landscape, look at Mario, visible as a small dot on the snow. The survivors camped somewhere near the spot where I took this picture, but we continued on.

Later that evening we found water for the first time.

After a long day (Dec 16, 2005), we finally pitched camp not too far from where the survivors camped on December 17, 1972.
Photo by James Vlahos

This is El Brujo. Nando and Roberto saw the sun illuminate this peak until 9 pm. This gave them great hope that the next valley was open to the west, since apparently no mountains were in the way to block the sun. This picture was taken a few minutes before 9 pm on December 16, 2005.
Photo by James Vlahos

The next morning we make our way to the base of El Brujo.
Photo by James Vlahos

This is probably the first spot where they saw water. After almost 70 days
without any running water this was an incredible experience for Nando and Roberto.
Photo by James Vlahos

A great picture James took of me and El Brujo.
Photo by James Vlahos

It was tricky to stay on the left side of the river.
Photo by James Vlahos

Roberto Canessa described the moment when he saw the snow end as the difference between death and life. He had seen all his friends die in the snow and he thought to himself: I am out of the snow now, I have to live.

Punching through the snow would have turned deadly on places like these. These rivers are very cold and very strong!

The valley that opened up was immense!

This is probably the place where they camped on the night of December 18.

The first signs of vegetation!

Our route became very rocky. Loaded with such heavy packs, walking became very tricky over this rough terrain.

At one point a rock dislodged under my foot and I went down. My pack crushed me against rocks that hit my sternum and cut my forearm. A hematoma formed instantly on my arm which made it look like a compound fracture; I was very relieved to see that it was just a cut! A compund fracture, days away from any help, can be a very serious matter, if not fatal.

The slope where I fell after having crossed it.

Later the inclination angle eased but the going was still very tricky. Most
rocks were moving under our feet.

The first human signs.

Guanaco (a relative to the Llamas) bones.

December 18,2005 The challenge of this day and the next one are the hardest to convey. We no longer had dangers of avalanches, crevasses or technical terrain; it was simply a physical challenge to cover miles and miles with heavy packs, heat, and direct sun over terrain that's tricky to walk on.
Photo by James Vlahos

There were absolutely no trail or paths to follow, a lot of rocks and as we got lower a new evil...brush!
Photo by James Vlahos

...and bugs! Mario's new pet!
Photo by James Vlahos

Rocks, rocks and never-ending rocks!
Photo by James Vlahos

Something we didn't expect...a swamp!
Photo by James Vlahos

Mario and I at the end of another tough day, 12/18.
Photo by James Vlahos

Before we camped we got a view of the next valley that would leads us into Los Maitenes (still a long way to go!) 12/19
Photo by James Vlahos

The next morning we headed to Los Maitenes. It seemed ridiculous at that point to be carrying snow shoes, -20 degree sleeping bags and down jackets in this heat! The elevation was now under 5000'. This proved to be another brutal day.
Photo by James Vlahos

There were still many tricky river crossings.

The heavy vegetation made it impossible for us to continue. The only option I found was to follow herd paths (that we were now encountering along with a few cows grazing but no humans) that climbed up more than 1500 vertical feet above the river and went above this ridge line that would eventually drop us into Los Maitenes. It was very discouraging to have to climb yet another mountain when we were so close to our destination.

Condors kept a close look at us while climbing.

At last....Los Maitenes (Self Portrait). Roberto and Nando saw a Chilean peasant tending his cattle in this area. They were very lucky this peasant (Sergio Catalan) was up there early in the season, otherwise they would have found what we found...a deserted place!

From L to R: Ricardo Peña , Mario Perez and James Vlahos in Los Maitenes on December 19, 2005, after completing the first succesful re-tracing of Nando Parrado and Roberto Canessa's historic escape from the Andes. They reached Los Maitenes on December 21st, 1972.
Photo by James Vlahos

We arranged to have Mauricio Guerra, a Chilean guide and now good friend of mine, meet us at Los Maitenes. He brought salami, cheese, wine and pasta which we quickly devoured around a campfire. The stars as always were incredible!
Photo by James Vlahos

This is the hut where Roberto and Nando were taken by the chilean peasants. This little outpost was where they ate their first real meal in 70 days and where for the first time they told other human beings about their incredible ordeal!
Photo by James Vlahos

For us the work-out wasn't over, since we had to walk another full day to
reach the nearest road where a van met us.
Photo by James Vlahos

The heat was very dehydrating.
Photo by James Vlahos

But at least now we followed a path, and it was hiking on a good trail.

At last on December 20, 2005 our crossing of the Andes on foot ended when we reached this road and this vehicle. We had a very different
experience of San Fernando, Chile, than the survivors. While the survivors were welcomed like heroes (the rest of the survivors back on the glacier were rescued by helicopters), we were greeted like illegal criminals. As we reported to the local authorities to have our passports stamped with the proper entry stamp we were practically detained. That entry stamp was essential to leave the country the next day, otherwise we would be detained at the airport and arrested.
Photo by James Vlahos

Alpine

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