Extreme Survival

By Ron Tagliapietra

This biographical book covers 12 survivors who survived extreme outdoor accidents. From shipwrecks to plane crashes and from loss of limbs to blindness, these stories are the most exciting and inspirational stories of the last two centuries!

• Language: English
• Publisher: URLink Print & Media, LLC
• Release date: Dec 19, 2019
• ISBN: 9781647531096

Ron Tagliapietra

Ron has taught math for 15 years, and written math textbooks for another 15. He also wrote Great Adventurers of the 20th Century, The 7 Wonders of the World, Waterfalls of the States, The Southern Sixers, and 150 South Carolina Waterfalls.

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Extreme Survival

Copyright © 2019 by Ron Tagliapietra. All rights reserved.

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Published in the United States of America

ISBN 978-1-64753-110-2 (Paperback)

ISBN 978-1-64753-109-6 (Digital)

18.11.19

DEDICATION

This book is dedicated to the lord Jesus Christ, who gave me life when I should have died. Secondarily, it is dedicated to the following friends who have influenced this book (see the Foreword).

Nathan A. Chancy, an engineer, superb mountain biker, and runner from Florida; we kayaked in Dry Tortugas, rafted the Chattooga River, climbed Mt. of the Holy Cross and Mt. Sneffels, waded through Paria Canyon, and bushwhacked to Breakneck Ridge in the Smokies.

Josh Dixson, an ultra-marathoner from Maine who won his age group in the Mt. Washington Road Race, ran 100 miles, and ran up Cold Mountain; we did short runs and bushwhacked to Rich Mtn. Bald, North Carolina together.

Brian D. Johnson, a skilled artist and paleontologist from Indiana and a Lewis and Clark buff; we hiked at Cloudland Canyon, Georgia, and Foster Falls, Tennessee.

Caleb MacGill, a welder from Wyoming, who weight trained and rock climbed at gyms with me.

Kevin Neat, a project manager from Indiana who proofread two chapters of this book. We bushwhacked to Doubletop Mtn. in North Carolina together.

Tom Parr, an author from Idaho and second-degree black belt in karate, who often encouraged me to write; we visited the cave at Shining Rock.

Mike Santopietro, an editor, runner, and mountain biker from Vermont; we climbed 23 county highpoints, including Mt. Seward, New York, and Gillespie Peak, Vermont, 20 Eastern Highest 100 peaks, including Mt. Adams, New Hampshire, Blockhouse Mtn., and Rough Butt Bald, North Carolina, and visited waterfalls including Big Falls, Vermont.

James Wedekind, a strong military engineer from Utah who has climbed Aconcagua, Argentina; we climbed Mt. Hood, Oregon, Mt. Lamborn, Colorado, and a few other county highpoints together.

John and Barbara Tagliapietra, my parents of Chicago, Illinois, who helped me write the Introduction to this book.

CONTENTS

Foreword

Introduction: Surviving an Accident: Ron Tagliapietra

Chapter 1: Surviving Hostile Indians: John Colter

Chapter 2: Surviving Shipwreck: Captain James Riley

Chapter 3: Surviving Grizzly Bear Attack: Hugh Glass

Chapter 4: Surviving a Jungle: Isaac Strain

Chapter 5: Surviving Shipwreck off Antarctica: Ernest Shackleton

Chapter 6: Surviving a Plane Wreck: Fernando Parrado

Chapter 7: Surviving a Mountaineering Accident: Joe Simpson

Chapter 8: Surviving Volcanic Eruption: Maurice Krafft

Chapter 9: Surviving a Baling Accident: Steven J. Sharp

Chapter 10: Surviving Blindness: Erik Weihenmayer

Chapter 11: Surviving Capture for Ransom: Gracia Burnham

Chapter 12: Surviving Entrapment: Aron Ralston

Conclusion

Bibliography

FOREWORD

I have always liked stories of adventure and survival. I liked them long before my own survival of the car accident in 2001 (see Introduction). However, the accident gave impetus to my writing about them.

Several survivors came immediately to mind: Ernest Shackleton, Nando Parrado, Aron Ralston & Gracia Burnham. I knew that all four incidents lasted at least a week and some went years. These were not disasters of an hour or even a single day. These became my basis, though I did not write them all first.

Friends (see Dedication) mentioned other survivors. Brian Johnson offered John Colter. James Wedekind suggested Joe Simpson. Caleb MacGill told me of Hugh Glass, and Kevin Neat described the ordeal of Steven Sharp. Mike Santopietro loaned me two magazines: Adventure (Feb. 2004) had an article on James Riley and Outside (Dec. 2001) had one on Erik Weihenmayer.

After months of research, I discovered Isaac Strain and Maurice Krafft. I had wanted a jungle survivor and an eruption survivor. I compared Strain’s The Darkest Jungle to the modern Lost in the Amazon by Stephen Kirkpatrick. Strain had a much longer ordeal. I read many short accounts of the eruption of Mt. St. Helens and Surviving Galeras by Stan Williams. Williams’s book alerted me to Maurice Krafft.

So why isn’t so-and-so’s story included?

First, I did not include any survivors of wars, diseases, or athletics. War stories of Pearl Harbor, Darlene Diebler Rose, Jeremiah Denton and Haralan Popov are all riveting. Lance Armstrong (suggested by James Wedekind) won the Tour de France in spite of his cancer, which is remarkable. Dean Karnazes (suggested by Josh Dixson) ran ultra-marathons, leaving him thirsty in deserts and crawling on trails in mountains. I’ve included athletes, but the sport itself was never what was survived. Karnazes’ 350-mile run pushes limits & his book, The Ultramarathon Man, gets my highest praise. However, I was more interested in accidents than wars, disease or athletics. Many such stories are worthy of inclusion, but not in this book

Second, I excluded some because the disaster occurred on a single day. Examples include the World Trade Center collapse of 9-11-01, shark attacks, tidal waves, floods, concussions, and even a stowaway in the non-pressurized wheel compartment of a jet (The Frozen Stowaway in The Greatest Survivor Stories Never Told, loaned by Nathan Chancy). K. Neill Foster’s book Dam Break at Toccoa Falls has a great flood story. Joni Earickson’s concussion left her as a quadriplegic. Though struggles lasted for years, sources lacked compelling details.

You may ask why Sharp and Krafft were included, since both incidents were on a single day. Sharp was included since a book details his later struggles. The loss of both arms is no one-day experience, and his later victories are incredible! Krafft survived a glowing cloud on one day, but his up-close study of volcanoes brought him near death often. His boat trip on the unique acid lake in Kawa Ijen in Indonesia and the days spent in the crater of Oldoinyo Lenggai in Africa are examples.

Third, some stories I excluded because I had a similar but better story. Richard Byrd’s Alone takes place in Antarctica, but it is surpassed in every way by Shackleton. Anatoli Boukreev (suggested by James Wedekind) is an awesome story, but the survival aspects can’t compete with either Simpson or Weihenmayer. Peace Child by Don Richardson is a great tropical jungle story that I recommend heartily, but its survival aspects pale next to Strain.

Fourth, I also excluded a favorite epic survival story. Slavomir Rawicz’s The Long Walk tells of his escape from a Siberian prison camp and trek to India. Some have accused him of writing fiction. I suspect that his book is based in truth, but paucity of dates and later life events add to the difficulties. I highly recommend the book.

Finally, there is a spiritual aspect to survival stories, since each person has a spirit. Some survivors have accepted the Lord Jesus Christ as their Savior. The clearest salvation among the survivors is Gracia Burnham. As you read each story, ask yourself whether the person is a Christian before you judge actions or motives that you may not like. Ask whether the action or motive helped the person survive. Compare the stories, note their reactions and identify what enabled them to survive. You’ll find additional help in the Conclusion.

Many accounts of survivors contain foul language or other objectionable elements such as lasciviousness, gambling, smoking, alcohol, or false philosophy. The works cited in the Bibliography are not necessarily recommended reading, but they were necessary references that I consulted. If you read any of them, most objectionable elements will be obvious but watch out especially for false philosophy.

This book (and my previous book, Great Adventurers of the 20th Century) focus on the good aspects of survivors (or adventurers) that point one toward Jesus. I try to tell each story without giving offense, but it is not always possible. For instance, Aron Ralston had to cut off his own hand, and Hugh Glass fought pirates and a former friend. Worse yet, Nando Parrado had to eat the flesh of friends who had already died natural deaths. These are great survival stories because many things are not simple, and the answers required innovation. Be forewarned!

Most of all, I pray that each survivor will help you deal with your own circumstances a little better. May each story strengthen your spirit. I pray each will point you toward Jesus Christ and make you sense his presence more strongly.

INTRODUCTION

Surviving an Accident: Ron Tagliapietra

ARIZONA

We were on vacation, and we had worked ahead on our hours to get the time off. Two brothers, Drew and Aaron, flew from South Carolina to Phoenix with me. We rented an SUV and drove to Grand Falls on the Navajo Reservation. It was spring, and the frequently dry falls flowed decently. The falls were about 60 feet high and beautiful.

We camped at a tacky but convenient campground just outside Grand Canyon National Park. The night was cold, and we didn’t sleep too well. We awoke early on March 2, 2001.

We visited seven viewpoints on the South Rim: Yavapai Pt., Mather Pt., Yaki Pt., Grandview Pt., Moran Pt., Lipan Pt., and Desert View. It was my seventh time in the park, but they were new for Drew and Aaron.

On four previous visits to the Grand Canyon, I had visited views along the South Rim. On my first visit in 1979, Danish friends and I had also hiked the eight miles to the bottom and stayed at Phantom Ranch. In 1982, two friends from the west coast and I had visited Hermit’s Rest using the shuttle. In 1993 I had returned with a friend from Virginia. In 1997, a couple from South Carolina and I had visited briefly before descending Havasu Canyon to see Havasu Falls and Mooney Falls.

My other two visits to the Canyon had been to North Rim areas. In 1980 a friend from Chicago and I had backpacked to the bottom, passing Ribbon Falls—a 28 mile roundtrip. In 2000, I backpacked with a friend from South Carolina near Toroweap.

All my previous visits had been in July or August. Since it was March and being an avid waterfall buff, I was determined to view Cheyava Falls with binoculars ten miles away. I had seen the spot before in summer when it was dry, so at our first three viewpoints I knew where to look and soon found it. It was great to see it flowing. Cheyava Falls, plunging down the North Rim, is the highest waterfall in Arizona.

After Desert View, we continued east, planning to turn north for Zion National Park. We made sandwiches for lunch at a rest area. Drew took over the driving. With all the work getting our hours in and the fitful sleep in the cold the night before, we were all tired. Aaron slept sprawled across the back seat. With my seat belt on, I fell asleep, a rare event for me in a moving vehicle. I dreamed that we were crashing, and I thought I had to get my hand out the window. Apparently I succeeded.

Drew fell asleep behind the wheel, something he had never done on any of our past trips. He veered off the road, and the jarring of the vehicle on the flat desert brush awoke him. He turned the steering wheel abruptly. We crossed the road and went off on the other side. He jerked the wheel back, and we started rolling. My dream correctly reflected the crashing, but not the rolling.

The vehicle rolled 2.25 times. With my right hand out the window, the full weight of the vehicle crushed it twice. I ended up suspended in the seat belt. A slice of my scalp was torn loose, and blood ran down my face. I remained unconscious. Aaron was thrown from the vehicle, and he too was bloody. He had a head injury and a broken pelvis that severed his urethra. Drew came out the best of us, but suffered some broken ribs and a black eye. Our vacation was over.

An off-duty EMT from Utah, driving behind us, watched the whole accident and stopped. He removed me from the car, and his efforts stabilized me and saved my life. He also saw my camera and took photographs at the site.

Soon other motorists stopped. Because the car was empty, many assumed that no one had worn a seatbelt, and that I had also been thrown from the car.

An ambulance arrived, and technicians fitted me with a temporary neck brace. They took us to the hospital at Tuba City. Our cases obviously required a larger hospital, and a helicopter took me to Flagstaff. Still dreaming, now because of pain killers, I was oblivious to everything.

In Flagstaff, when the emergency room doctor and the various specialized surgeons first saw me, they guessed my age to be 30 and doubted that I would live for even one hour. A ventilator down my throat breathed for me. An IV (intravenous) tube, entering a vein in my arm, fed me and brought fluids and medications. They also connected all sorts of monitors to me.

The orthologist gave me a neck brace to stabilize the two fractured vertebrae in my neck. The plastic surgeon put the part of my scalp back on my head. The massive head trauma also included a bruised brain stem and fractures in all my facial bones. The surgeons decided not to operate on these so as not to injure my neck further.

The orthopedic surgeon slit my right hand open in four places so that swelling in my hand would not cut off circulation. This saved me from losing my right hand. Other surgeons found a bruised lung, a deep gash into my left elbow, and a fractured vertebra in my back. I received 18 pints of blood during my six hours in the emergency room. I was also still alive, which surprised them all. They later admitted me to the intensive care unit in critical condition.

Meanwhile, someone called my employer based on cards in my wallet, and my employer called my parents at 8:30 pm CST. My Dad quickly found a flight to Flagstaff from Chicago leaving early the next morning. In spite of the fact that there was little hope that I would live, they wanted to be there.

By the next morning, I remained in critical condition. It still seemed probable that I would die. Doctors awoke me and returned me to sleep with sedatives. When my parents arrived in the late afternoon, doctors warned them that if I lived at all, I could end up as a vegetable or a paraplegic. My parents had already lost their only other child 20 years before. My younger brother, Roger, born February 13, 1958, had been married only seven months and died of cancer on August 31, 1980.

My parents surprised the doctors when they told them my age was 44. I could not speak because of the tube in my throat. Once, when they awoke me, a nurse asked me to wink if I understood her. I winked. This calmed the fears that I would be a vegetable. Nurses also regularly asked me to move my thumb and wiggle my toes. My responses helped to relieve the fears of paraplegia.

Mom kept everyone informed regularly with prayer requests. She called their churches in Illinois and Flagstaff, my church and employer in South Carolina, and some of my friends. The entire campus of Bob Jones University prayed for me in chapel, too. With all those people praying, it is not surprising that I lived. Prayer changes things. God likes to surprise the doctors, after all He is the great physician.

On March 5, the pastor of the church in Flagstaff took Dad and the father of my fellow-traveler brothers to Tuba City. They visited the accident site, the small hospital, and the place where the SUV had been towed. They got our stuff from the vehicle, including my camera with the photos of the accident site. They took the film for developing as double prints, one set for each family.

On the fifth day, my parents signed permission forms for the orthopedic surgeon to reconstruct my right hand. The next day, he set the bones, attached the tendons, and surgically implanted two screws and wires that extended from my fingers. He closed up the four incisions and put my hand in a cast.

Since I couldn’t speak because of the ventilator and I couldn’t write because of the cast, communication was difficult. The next time they asked me something, I used a hand signal: thumbs up or thumbs down. My parents began to ask yes or no questions that I could answer in this manner. Later, I would learn to scrawl lefty.

On March 9, Drew and Aaron were released and flew with their parents to South Carolina. They had been in the hospital for one week. Aaron had not yet had his urethra reattached, which he would have done in June as an outpatient in Raleigh. Both of them returned to work.

I had been in intensive care for two weeks on March 16. Doctors removed the ventilator and replaced it with a tracheostomy (breathing tube bypassing the throat into the base of my neck) and an oxygen mask over it. They also added a gastrostomy (a tube for food and fluids) running directly into my large intestine. The next day, they sat me up for the first time.

A few days later, I signaled to my parents about pains in my jaw. When a nurse checked it, she saw that my neck brace had been rubbing under my jaw and created a pressure sore that exposed the bone. They promptly gave me a new brace. That was the only pain I felt during the entire hospital stay, for which I am grateful.

Soon a therapist held my arms for support while I walked. After several more days I moved slowly with a walker down the hall while the therapists moved the pole supporting the IV tubes and walked beside me. On March 26, I moved with the walker around the intensive care unit twice. I was still dopey due to medications.

On March 27, the hospital transferred me to a room in their rehabilitation center. I had been in intensive care almost four weeks. The next day, Dad flew home because of work obligations. I had tests, X-rays, occupational therapy, speech therapy, physical therapy, and pulmonary therapy including nebulizer treatments. I lost balance frequently, but we soon learned that I could speak short sentences in a halting and feeble voice if Mom covered the top of the tracheostomy.

Do you do anything to keep in shape, one doctor asked recalling his surprise at my age. Even at the younger age, he had expected serious repercussions.

I run a little to prepare for mountain climbing, I paused to breathe. Speaking with the tracheostomy was not easy.

The doctor didn’t let me continue to tell him about the backpacking, caving, rafting, and hikes to arches and waterfalls. Cutting me off, he said, It’s likely that those activities enabled you to survive.

This was the human perspective, and it may have played a role. But we knew that God had enabled me to survive because of prayer. We told the doctor that also.

An otorhinolaryngologist came by to unplug my right ear. There was dried blood and dead tissue clogging it, and I couldn’t hear on that side. She also briefly put a tube into my throat through my nose. That was miserable, but at least I could hear again.

On April 17, a doctor removed my tracheostomy, and I could speak again! I still received oxygen at my nose. The hospital took me and other rehab patients to the Flagstaff Mall, and I spent most of the time at the bookstore. It was great to get out of the hospital for a few hours.

By now I had received about 100 cards and numerous visitors. One friend, who, like me, enjoyed visiting highest points in counties, came whenever he was in town. The pastor from the church my parents began attending in Flagstaff came frequently as did some members of his church. A missionary family to the Navajo and my mom’s friends from Phoenix also visited frequently. Other visitors included my employer’s representative for Arizona, friends of Drew’s, a friend of my parents from Chicago, and highpointer friends from Montana.

On April 23, the hospital released me for therapy as an outpatient. By that time, I had received therapy as an inpatient for almost a month. Mom had obtained a hospital bed, a transfer chair, a shower wand, a nebulizer, an oximeter, a feeding pump, cases of liquid food, oxygen, wound-care supplies, a wheelchair, and a platform cane. She also obtained my prescriptions, and I moved into her motel room.

Physical therapy lasted another month. About the second week of May, I was able to travel in Flagstaff. Mom brought me to Riordan Mansion State Park and Lowell Observatory. It felt great to be able to leave the motel, even though I still lost my balance easily.

The first time I went to church again was wonderful. The church was a small group of believers that my parents had been worshipping with in town. They did not yet have a building but met in a school. It was so