About 6 months ago I walked into Katoomba Salvos and came out with a pair size M Kathmandu zip off pants. They've seen better days now and have a few stitched up bits. When I put them on after 5 hours of sleep in the back of the car at Mt Buffalo, I felt prepared for an adventure up "Where Angels Fear to Tread". This awesome looking line is a grade 17 trad climb on the granite cliffs of Mount Buffalo, with a reputation for being long and skin consuming. It's also a stiff 17 and gets a 20-21 from grAId on the crag. So I lovingly taped up each one of my knuckles, placing bands of tap above and below the joint for maximum finger jamming flexibility.
Margot and I made our way down the steep walk in, criss crossing down the granite slope. As we did, I warned her about a sketchy grade 19 alternative start that many people get suckered by. When we reached the base, she assured me the crack in front of us was the proper start, and began to rack up. After awkwardly thrutching over a bush in the crack, she was dismayed to see the crack system disappear, leaving 7 m of blank slab. A single 3 cm chicken head was her only solace. After some delicate slings and more delicate footwork, she finally made it on to the proper route. I followed her up, the sketchy start to the day doing wonders for the head game.
It was at this first belay that we realised neither of us had head torches, and I had forgotten the second water bottle. Leaving us with only 1.5L of water on a hot sunny day. It was 10:45 at this point and we strongly considered bailing, but pressed on. Summit fever had gotten the best of us (mostly me).
I took the next pitch, slipping right to a hand sized crack before mantling up to a small ledge and seeing the path in front of me. About 20 m of deep, wide hands was about to destroy my soul. I strongly reconsidered my life choices as I shuffled a number 3 and 4 up this ankle consuming beast. With much grunting and moaning and very sore feet, I barely made it up to a sunsoaked ledge to bring Margot up. Only 3 of my knuckles had any tape left. Again we discussed bailing, the razor sharp granite eating away at skin and spirit. Yet we pressed on.
Margot's lead this time, with another spooky and delicate slab traverse to start followed by more heinous deep wide crack. At this point Margot was pretty over it and had fully committed to aiding up to get out faster. On second I had a bit more appetite for masochism and kept free climbing. Yet again we discussed bail options at the top of pitch 3, around 12.
I took pitch 4, and this was actually a really pleasant pitch of climbing. You head up this lovely hand crack on the left, then have to spookily slab on over to a crack on the right when it ends. I found a grain of quartz to side pull on and started tip toeing over the granite. "Trust your feet, trust your feet" then my fingers slipped off and I took a small fall. I went back up and got it second go, some really cool movement - karate kicking my foot into the right crack for a bomber toe hook. The rest of the pitch was hands thinning down to fingers for a challenging top. I managed to get some good smears in the crack corner and pulled on some mono pockets in the petered out crack to gain the top. I felt like Ben "fuck I'm the fucking best" Cossey until I remembered that it was a grade 16 positive angle slab...
Margot lead the next pitch, thrutching up a heinous body chimney before more heinous wide jamming. cams were pulled on with no hesitation by the both of us. This was the last pitch of real climbing and were glad to be almost done with the ordeal. This was around 3:30.
5 minutes later I was leading up the second last pitch when I felt a slight pain in the left of my chest. I was past the tricky bit so continued scrambling up as the pain rapidly increased to excruciating. I found a ledge to wedge myself in but all I could do was moan in pain. I struggled to breathe. deep breaths made the pain so much worse. Just after sitting down the pain was at its peak, and I was slightly dizzy from hyperventilating. After a moment I managed to call for help, but speaking was difficult and I could only really utter single words. My mind raced as I contemplated life, death, and whether or not I was having a heart attack.
I hadn't built an anchor so Margot couldn't come up to me, but fortunately there was a party just behind us. Within 15 or 20 minutes Jeremy (one of the other climbers) was up with me and called 000 around 4pm. I was alert and oriented but could only really moan or say single words. After talking to the Ambos for 20 minutes, he fixed a line for the others to come up on. By 4:40 both the other climbers had topped out, leaving Margot with me. Both parties had phones and there was full mobile reception.
At around 5pm, Connor (the other climber) returned with a defib and an update that emergency services were considering their options. I was still on the side of the cliff, with about 5 m of climbing and 10 m of technical scrambling to go. Connor had also called some nearby guide friends who were on their way to see if they could help with a haul to get me up to a point where I could walk out. The alternative would have been a helicopter winch operation,which would have been very challenging given my location, or a winch from above by SES which would have taken many hours and also been challenging given the terrain. Also there were thunderstorms due to roll in late that night...
The guides arrived at 5:15 and Luke (a guide) began to set up a haul. Shortly after SES arrived at the top. Over this period, my condition had improved quite a bit and I was able to talk in short sentences. The pain was reducing, eventually reaching a point where it was minimal while sitting still. At 5:25 SES and the guides had agreed that a haul was a good option, given that I could stand up and move with help. They pulled me up the 2 technical sections, the pain was worse while moving but manageable with rests. After about 20 minutes (5:45) I was on a flat bit of ground, and the paramedic arrived another 5 mins later.
The paramedic gave me a basic assessment and told me that it was unlikely to be a heart issue, but something with my lungs. I was sooo relieved. We also agreed that I could walk out with help, and the SES leader called off the police rescue chopper, which was about to take off. He also told the technical SES teams to standby and the Fire Rescue crew to wait at the top. They were getting ready to clear a path for a stretcher haul or carry. By this point the pressure was off, I wasn't dying of a heart attack, and all the technical climbing was over.
I started moving up the path at 6, with the other climbers giving me hand lines and belays for the bouldery bits of the walk out. I had to stop often to catch my breath and let the pain subside, but within an hour we were back at the carpark and I got a full assessment in the ambulance. By 7:15 the whole operation was done, 3.5 hours after it started. The paramedic had two guesses at my issue: pneumothorax (partially collapsed lung) or pericarditis (inflammation around the heart). Pneumothorax made the most sense, as it can randomly occur in tall young men, but the paramedic couldn't hear a difference in my lungs with the stethoscope. Pericarditis was a maybe, because at one point the pain was worse lying down.
After stepping out of the ambulance, I was hit with a wave of relief and realisation of how much worse it could have been. I was so lucky to be near the top, and that there were other climbers behind us. Huge thanks to them, their guide friends and all the emergency services who helped out. Margot drove me to the Wangaratta hospital and an X-ray quickly confirmed pneumothorax - collapsed lung.
Air had escaped my lung and was stuck in my chest cavity, preventing my lung from fully expanding. They explained that pneumothorax can just occur spontaneously, typically in tall young men, typically around 17. When you go through a growth spurt your lungs get stretched too, and can form a blister (technical term 'bleb'). This normally pops around 17 or 18, but mine hung on for a few more years. Treatment is normally to just do nothing and let the escaped air be absorbed into the body.
Unfortunately for me, the void got bigger overnight so the doctors decided to intervene with a cutely named 'pig tail'. It wasn't cute when it went in. The doctor told me there would be a "small little needle and then a wire to guide in the tube". The needle was not little and the "wire" was a 6 mm rod, it's insertion was probably to most painful thing I've experienced, and that was after 2 shots of fentanyl. The plus side to this was that the tube would drain me over one day, versus a week of waiting for the air to naturally go away. After a total of 3 nights, I was freed and pretty much fully recovered. I had to wait 3 weeks before flying or lifting heavy things (they included climbing in this ☹️) and a few days before getting the wound wet. Guess I'll just have to go canyoning now, what a shame...
Lessons learnt:
The rescue went very smoothly, mostly thanks to the help of other climbers and the talented emergency services. Had there not been anyone behind us, we would have had a much trickier situation. I had the bag with the phone (we knew we'd have reception all day so no PLB) which meant that Margot couldn't call for help. We'd be in trouble without other climbers to assist. In multipitching situations we often like to cut weight, but this is a good example of why taking two phones or PLBs is a good idea. That being said, this was a unique scenario where I wasn't weighting the rope, but also wasn't in a position to build an anchor. In the future I'll be taking 2 emergency contact devices.
I also got very cold very quickly, even though it was a hot day. We had an emergency blankets and that made such a huge difference. Such a light piece of gear and so useful!
And while it didn't come back to bite us, not taking head torches or enough water was just plain dumb. Check your gear! Don't get complacent!
"Don't climb Where Angels Fear to Tread, just go canyoning instead" - Margot Mason
