Climbing on Siula Grande my fried Simon and I were tracking our way up the mountain. When we got to the sumit I fell and broke my leg. I was tumbling down slowly realising what is happening – I am not going to get off this mountain. Simon came chasing after me. We carried on I was hopping but then I had a second fall.
Hanging off with a broken leg about 1000 metres off the ground was not the greatest thing but it was better than dieing. I called up “pull, pull, can you hear me?” No answer.
Then I heard a rustle like a backpack.
Then it happend I heard a knife slash and the next thing I knew I was falling. The mountain suddenly chanted ‘DIE, DIE, DIE”
I was now soaring through the sky . Spontaneously my life flashed in front of me, boom, crash, bang. I thought I was dead but my leg was still broken.
I fought against the snowy wind, my head dizzy I could not think. I just crawled on my elbows hoping I won’t hert myself anymore. It took me 12 days to get back to camp. They took me strait to hospital. They said I had to have my leg chopped off.