‘Fearing for our lives’: Australians tell of Chilean mountain horror where five hikers perished
About 100 metres below the most challenging summit in a remote nature reserve in Chilean Patagonia, Australian woman Emily Dong was among a group of hikers who thought they were going to die. Less than a day later, five hikers would be confirmed dead in the Torres del Paine national park after winds hit 190km/h and temperatures plummeted to –5C. Taking into account wind chill, it felt like –20C. Dong, a keen hiker from Sydney, remembers crawling across an ice sheet on all fours, the wind howling around her. She was unable to put on her spikes because of the freezing conditions.
The 24-year-old had walking poles, but every step she took the wind “battered you from left to right”, forcing her on to her knees, she says. “I remember holding my hands over my head because that’s how heavy the storm was, that’s how bad the wind was, and it was impossible to move forward. “In my head I was just thinking, ‘I need to get to the next hut, I need to get to that hut so I can finally rest.’ After speaking with other hikers, it became clear many of us were fearing for our lives.” But the next hut was locked, Dong later found out. That was despite the hikers having been told by staff who operate the private campsites in the national park that they could stop there for lunch and to warm up before pushing on to the next campsite. There were no rangers in that area of the park due to mandatory voting in Chile’s presidential election that day, Mauricio Ruiz, the regional director of Conaf, Chile’s national forestry corporation, told local news media later. It was one of a series of communication failures that survivors believe may have contributed to the deaths of a British woman, a German couple and a Mexican couple, who all succumbed to hypothermia during the snowstorm on Monday 17 November. Dong was among a group of about 30 people, including 13 Australians, who tried over several hours to save them on the O Circuit trail at Torres del Paine, a popular spot that attracted 367,000 travellers last year. Police and emergency services would not arrive until the following day – by then it was too late. Survivors are now asking why the trail was open if the rangers were absent and the weather was so severe. ‘They were screaming at staff’ On the Monday morning hikers planned to set out from Los Perros campsite on their fourth day of a week-long trail circling the Paine massif in the national park. The 15km hike to the next campsite, Grey, includes the most strenuous climb of the trail over the John Garner Pass which reaches an altitude of 1,220 metres. When Dong and her partner had asked staff whether the conditions would be safe before heading out, they told them: “It’s just Patagonia, hikers have done the pass in much worse conditions.” About 30 hikers set off in small groups between 6am and 6.30am. As conditions deteriorated during the day, they slowly converged under informal leadership of groups at the front of the trek, including an Australian couple, Sid Bildmann, 33, from Brisbane, and Renae Casini, 36, from Melbourne, who have more than a decade of experience in the ski industry. They made the difficult decision to turn the group back before reaching the summit.
Later, they found out their two friends who had completed the trail days before them had warned staff at the Grey campsite to shut the pass. “They were screaming at staff on the other side, ‘You need to close this, we’re lucky to be alive,’” Casini says. “Because they didn’t have internet the whole time, they weren’t able to get in contact with us … and that message was never received. “The pass was still open, even though camp attendants on the other side were warned.”
Bildmann says if they had known how severe the weather conditions would be, including how much snow had amassed and compacted over several days, there is no way they would have pushed forward. As it turned out, their GPS device would later show they were within 50 metres of the summit when they turned around. “The wind was so high you couldn’t directly look into it to see where you’re going,” he says. “We thought: if we’re struggling climbing the first part of the trail, what’s to follow? “But we all know descending is worse than ascending. The wind was now on our backs, pushing on the ice.”
As they descended to return to Los Perros, people started to fall, including Dong’s friend, who slid about 50 metres down an icy slope, “disappearing into nothing”. “I couldn’t see her and I didn’t know if she was alive or not until I made it down to the bottom. She had lacerations on her face from hitting the rock … people were literally just slipping down,” she says. “At some point I had no idea where we were … the trail markers weren’t visible in the storm. I remember just looking at people’s packs thinking, ‘I need to keep going because if I don’t see them any more, I’m going be lost on this mountain.’ “It was terrifying. Every single one of us was so grateful to be alive when we got down.” ‘We were in shock’ When the hikers made it back to the Los Perros campsite at about 12.30pm, some suffering from frostbite, hypothermia and cuts, they had to demand access to the campsite’s staffroom, which they turned into a makeshift medical area. They were initially charged for additional sleeping bags and food, they say. “We were in shock,” Bildmann says. “People would return at different times, and whenever they did, the tears started falling uncontrollably.” It soon became clear people were unaccounted for. The alarm was first raised over Victoria Bond, a British woman who failed to return to camp with her four friends. A distress post was issued via an SOS function at 2pm, and a group of volunteers headed out – a friend of Bond’s and a group of Canadians who had chosen not to make the ascent that day and weren’t fatigued or in shock. One staff member accompanied volunteers back up the mountain, but otherwise no assistance was given, they say.
Soon they came across Cristina Calvillo Tovar, a Mexican citizen, and her partner, Julián García Pimentel. He was dead, and Tovar was suffering from hypothermia. Backup was requested to camp via Garmin watches, and Bildmann put his wet gear back on and ascended the mountain for a second time. Over the next five hours, the group of volunteers attempted to transport Tovar back to camp using a makeshift stretcher constructed from trekking poles, duct tape and rope. Among them were two medical practitioners from Australia, who monitored Tovar’s vitals and attempted CPR when they were within 150 metres of camp. “They did everything they could to try and get a response,” Bildmann says. “We pushed as hard as we could. But unfortunately, after about an hour, they had to call the time of death.” Bildmann had spent more than 10 hours exposed to the elements. ‘It’s a huge systemic failure’ About two hours later, rangers finally arrived in response to the SOS call and informed the survivors that the pass was closed. Their campsite’s hut was opened, revealing a stretcher that had been behind a locked door the whole time. It wasn’t until the following afternoon that police and additional backup made it on the scene – about 24 hours after an SOS was first issued. The five bodies were found scattered over a 2km area near the pass, with Bond the highest up, partially sheltered by rocks, and the German couple, Nadine Lichey and Andreas Von Pein, behind her. A collective statement written by the hikers who survived the blizzard said it was a “terrible, avoidable tragedy”. They questioned why no rangers were present to support hikers during the trek or subsequent rescue efforts until it was too late, forcing them to act as their own first responders. Twenty-seven people required medical treatment after the disaster. “Nobody should have been allowed, let alone encouraged to attempt the pass that day,” the statement said. “There’s been a lot of victim blaming, but hikers were encouraged to head out in extremely dangerous conditions, and told there would be rangers present … it’s a huge systemic failure.” The group called on the Chilean government, parks administration (Conaf) and Vertice, the private operator within the national park, to introduce essential safety measures to avoid future “senseless loss of life”, including a hiker log at each campsite and access to medical equipment. Vertice did not respond to detailed questions. Conaf said it had ordered an internal investigation “to determine any potential liability” and would “review the safety and communication protocols in the park’s circuits … with the aim of strengthening prevention and emergency response capacity”. Bildmann and Casini were flown out of the park by helicopter on Wednesday 19 November. A week later, the 130km O Circuit remained closed for investigation. Casini still fears people may be unaccounted for due to the absence of sign-in sheets or tracking. “It was hard to leave the camp,” she says. “You could see the people, the faces that were still on the hill … We wanted to do more to help. It plays in my mind.”
