What Happens Next? Recovering from an Accident in the Himalayas

As an experienced mountain leader, I’ve faced my fair share of challenges in the mountains. But nothing quite prepared me for what happened towards the end of a recent expedition to Everest Base Camp and Island Peak (Imja Tse) in Nepal.

A Successful Start

The trip had been a success. We had trekked to Everest Base Camp, gaining good acclimatisation and enjoying mostly fine weather. With the team in good spirits, we moved on to Chhukung, the last stop before Island Peak base camp. The next morning, after picking up equipment for some of the team at the local hire shop, we ascended through the moraines around Island Peak, reaching base camp uneventfully. We prepared for our summit push, setting off at midnight.

After a cold, clear start and an initially smooth ascent, we encountered the typical hurdles of high-altitude climbs—one team member descended due to illness, another struggled once on the glacier with a steep ice section. However, most of the team reached the summit, enjoying fantastic views of the surrounding mountains and celebrating a hard-earned achievement.

Our descent was going well—until it wasn’t.

A Snap, A Fall, A Broken Leg

I was attached to the rope; this was the last section of fixed line. I carefully went over the edge and was about halfway down when I heard a snap above me. A sickening feeling rising in my stomach, as one moment I was in control; the next, I was airborne. The fall was quick, but the impact was brutal. Agony exploded through my leg as my crampons bit into the ice, twisting my leg as I hit the surface, snapping both my tibia and fibula. I screamed in pain, hit the snow, and slid towards a large gaping crevasse. I tried to move once I had come to a stop, but the pain was instant and excruciating.

As I lay there, my senses felt heightened and as people rushed to my aid I could feel the cold snow beneath me and, looking up at the impossibly blue sky, I spotted alpine choughs circling lazily above. If I hadn’t just broken my leg, this would have been a moment to savour. But then reality hit: I wouldn’t be walking off this mountain.

The Reality of Rescue at 6,000m

Rescue logistics at 6,000 metres on a remote mountain glacier in Nepal are daunting. Helicopter rescues at this altitude are difficult, as only two helicopters in the area are capable of operating at such heights. Despite the growing crowd of rescuers and reassurances that help was coming, I could hear people discussing the situation on radios. I realised it might be a long wait. A great sense of unease flooded over me.

I pulled myself together and began engaging with the people around me and the Sherpas who were organising my rescue. I signalled that we needed to start moving, as it would be very difficult for a helicopter to reach the spot where I had come to rest.

A Sherpa suggested using a ladder as a makeshift stretcher, and with quick thinking, they turned it into a workable setup. They strapped me to the ladder and gathered a team to carry me down. It was agony. Progress was painfully slow, and my rescuers were straining and breathing hard. Soon, they were exhausted—and then the weather began to turn. Trying not to lose control, I realised just how long this journey off the mountain might be.

A Night of Terror: Strapped to a ladder in the dark

By the time we reached “crampon point,” where we had hoped a helicopter could reach us, the rescuers were exhausted; everybody’s breathing was laboured; everybody was spent. My rescuers needed to descend, and then came the news I had already suspected: the helicopter was not coming. I felt bitterly disappointed, having been reassured for hours that help was on its way. I was left bundled in jackets to keep warm; I was shivering from the pain. Soon, members of the in-country team arrived with supplies—food, drink, my sleeping bag, and a mattress. It was a relief, and I thought we might be spending the night there. But that was not the plan.

The team adjusted the ladder, re-secured me, and prepared to carry me down further. I knew this would be a gruelling experience for everyone involved. The thought of being carried over exposed terrain, strapped to a ladder in the dark, was truly terrifying.

The Sherpas worked tirelessly, straining and heaving me down, stopping to check on me, offering food and water, and covering me when I got cold. My injured leg kept shifting, sending waves of pain through my body. I asked for my legs to be secured together for stability, but their focus was on making progress, which was a great source of frustration for me. Their energy was entirely directed towards getting me down the mountain.

Hours passed in a blur as we slowly made our way to base camp. I lost all sense of where we were. Occasionally, I caught glimpses of the moonlit vistas around me, but mostly, I was focused on getting through each minute. When we finally reached base camp, I was placed in a tent and told to rest until morning, when a helicopter would come.

I tried to sleep, but the pain kept me alert. Eventually, exhaustion won, and I drifted off.

The Final Stretch

Morning came, and as my team checked in to wish me well, the lead guide asked if I could sit up in the helicopter. I tried sitting up no; I most certainly couldn’t. That meant waiting once more, my concern growing as the pain in my leg intensified.

Eventually, a surge of people entered the tent, and I was moved onto a flexible stretcher and carefully carried to a helicopter landing zone. The helicopter arrived, and I was painfully loaded in. My injured leg was stuck pressed against the door, and I felt every vibration of the flight to Lukla. There, I transferred to another helicopter for the flight to Kathmandu. Nearly 24 hours after my accident, I arrived at a hospital and finally received medical attention.

After ten days in Kathmandu and two uncomfortable flights, I arrived home to an appointment at the hospital and further surgery.

A New Kind of Challenge

Now, as I navigate my recovery, I’m grateful for the resilience of the team, the skill of the Sherpas, and the relentless determination it took to get me off that mountain. This accident has given me a new perspective on the trust we place in each other in extreme environments.

Though I’ll be off the hills for a while, I’m taking each step toward recovery with the same mindset I bring to the mountains: one step at a time, one day at a time.

This journey might be a different kind of adventure, but it’s one I’ll face with determination, patience, and gratitude.