Eight days in
the jungle without water and food *
If you do not try to climb the Mountain on your own (which
is a foolish thing to do),
Nevis is the most safe and wonderful island to relax and
enjoy in peace.
The perfect place for a dream vacation.
By Anton Tomazic
Whilst attending
the LexCybernatoria 2000 conference (dealing in my subjects, law and the
internet) I discovered a wonderful tropical paradise, Nevis, popularly known as
the Queen of the Caribbean. With a population of only 10,000, beautiful,
unspoilt nature and just a hint of tourism, the island was idyllic. I decided
that after 12 years of hard work I had earned for myself and my family a real
holiday.
There are not
many places where you can walk hour after hour along incredibly pure, white
sandy beaches without meeting a soul. And so on Nevis with our son, seven-year
old Toni, we scumped coconuts from heavily laden trees drooping over the sea,
chopped them in half and drank the sweet milk inside. Five-year old Marjanca
easily found all the shells she could wish for of all shapes and colours and as
big as 20 centimetres. There are hardly words to describe the exotic Nisbet
Plantation Beach Club that was our hotel. Two days before we were due to fly
home my attention was drawn to the beautiful 985 metre high volcanic Mount
Nevis.
DEPARTURE
Early on the
morning of 28 February 2001, just as dawn broke over the enchanted island, I
set out from our hotel on a one day trip to climb Nevis. As a typical Slovene I
was attracted by the prospect of looking down from the peak at the surrounding
villages and neighbouring islands. In my youth I had been a mountain guide and
marker of trails in the Alps, so I began my ascent undaunted, although I set
myself six hours to reach the summit and six hours to return.
With the
intention of reaching the summit by midday I was surprised at the thickness of
the jungle (thorns, creepers, cacti, trees, rotting logs, waist-high grass,
etc.) and I began to realise why hardly a local had been up the mountain. There
was no real path leading upwards and I had to expend an enormous amount of energy
to make any progress. Occasionally I came across a piece of rope on a branch,
which was evidence that others had experienced the same problem as I. Later I
learned that many years ago someone else had been lost in that jungle for three
days. Apart from some timid monkeys, I didn’t notice any wild animals and
didn’t encounter any snakes or poisonous spiders.
DESCENT
After six hours
of strenuous effort, I found myself just below the summit. I was tempted to
climb the last few metres but I had promised myself I would make my way back at
midday, and a promise is a promise. I decided it was logical to expect that if
it took me six hours to climb this far, it would take less than six hours to
make my way back. As a worse path couldn’t exist, I decided to descend over the
other side of the mountain that meant I would end up nearer the coast where I
could get a taxi to the hotel. I chose a valley where there seemed like an
innocent dried-up riverbed but it turned out to be a steep canyon. I quickly
discovered that during the rainy season from July to September there must have
flowed a lot of water as only smaller plants flourished and there were no large
trees. Here I was surprised by the prevalence of rain forest as the warm
Atlantic air formed condensation when in contact with the mountain. Everywhere
was damp and the rocks were covered in slippery moss. And this is what led to
my accident.
MY FIRST
FALL
At about 4 pm I
slipped on a moss-covered rock where there had once been a waterfall. I fell a
good five metres down into the canyon and was quite seriously injured. I had a
20 centimetre long cut on my right leg that began to bleed profusely, a damaged
elbow and numerous other abrasions. It took me several minutes to come to and
analyse my situation. To my horror the next waterfall was about ten metres
further down, three times more deep and impassable. If I were not so injured, I
would have made my way back up and found another way down. I began to feel ill
and experience the first signs of dehydration, a dry mouth and throat,
increased pulse rate and heart burn. The pain in my legs and arms felt worse by
the minute. As I had only an hour left to nightfall, I decided on making camp.
If I were lucky, somebody would find me the following day. Before leaving I had
agreed with my anxious wife that I would return without fail about 6 pm. When I
hadn’t arrived back at the appointed time, I was sure she would raise the
alarm. I never dreamt this hollow depression with 30-metre high walls either
side and the size of a living room would be my home for the next five days.
Already I was aware that the greatest danger was running out of fluids.
WATER
Some years ago my
parliamentary colleague, Lojze Peterle, told me of his 10-day voluntary fast.
At that time I could hardly imagine going one day without food. I imagined a
hellish pain in an empty stomach. I thought it would kill me. I remembered the
most important words of Lojze’s that fasting was harmless when accompanied with
large quantities of water and other drinks. My problem was lack of water. I
knew food was not my greatest problem as I weighed 78 kilograms and had
sufficient reserves, but without liquid nothing would help. Luckily I had an
empty bottle so I took the only way out – I urinated in the bottle, waited while
the urine cooled, and drank it down in successive gulps. The first time it was
horrible but I was feeling more and more dehydrated and there was no choice. I
used a psychological trick – I imagined I was in a crowded Scottish bar in good
company where the beer flowed like a stream. I closed my eyes, raised my bottle
and practically poured its contents straight down my throat. As I did not vomit
the first time and there were no nasty consequences later, I did not hesitate
to repeat the process, especially as I felt the positive results. In eight days
I must have drank more than 15 litres of my own urine and this is what kept me
alive.
I did attempt to
solve the problem of water shortage in two other ways. Using large palm leaves
and two polythene bags I was able to collect rainwater from passing downpours,
night or day. Every time, however, I noticed I had also collected unwanted
refuse – various plant and animal matter, including small bits that moved –
that were washed by the rain from the high trees surrounding me. This simply
caused diarrhoea and a further loss of fluids. I had to give this up.
In my fifth day
in the jungle I discovered a very useful plant, a kind of palm with very long
leaves they call traveller’s tree. It felt very damp so I decided to imitate
what I had seen pandas do on television – I chewed the root, sucking out the
juices and then spitting out the fibre. I must have chewed a hundred or more of
those plants.
FOOD
As it turned out,
hunger was the least of my problems. I don’t even remember feeling hungry,
whereas thirst was my constant companion. I tried eating the few biscuits I had
with me but I found it very difficult eating something so dry when I was so
thirsty. I didn’t find any useful fruits until the last day when I stumbled on
a green and very hard lemon. Unfortunately this literally burned the inside of
my mouth and tongue.
During my 8-day
odyssey I lost 10 to 13 kilograms (I don’t know the exact figure as I was only
weighed in the hospital later after drinking a great deal of water). After a
few days in the hospital I quickly regained most of my 78 kilograms, largely by
drinking a lot. It is interesting that 18 months before my adventure, I weighed
93 kilograms and was told by my doctor to lose weight. It took me six months to
lose 15 kilograms. I think that I wouldn’t have survived being such a weight
and I would have been incapable of enouhh strenuous movement. I promised myself
(when you are already in your possible grave, you tend to make many promises
about what you would do if ever you got out alive) that every year at this time
I would follow Lojze’s example and make a weeklong fast, naturally drinking a
lot of water and other drinks. Another one of my promises was to drink a glass
of water at work instead of my morning coffee (water – the best drink in the
world!).
WAITING FOR
RESCUE
What should I do?
Behind me was the 5-metre high rock from which I fell, before me a 20 metre
drop and on both sides of the canyon 20 to 30 metre high walls that only
allowed sunlight to penetrate my forced home for an hour after midday. I
couldn’t climb back as I was worse off for my fall. I was forced to wait for
rescue from the air. I had to rely on my wife. I knew she would make sure a rescue
effort was put into operation immediately. The next day came, however, and
nothing. At about two the following afternoon I finally spotted a helicopter
(for the first and last time) but it was too far off. They had a lot of area to
cover and to spot somebody in the jungle would not be easy even though I had
strung out white washing and white polythene bags. When on Saturday and Sunday
there was still no sign of searchers, I began to doubt if I’d ever be rescued.
I had to start thinking about what I could do further to help myself. Firstly I
decided I should make a fire – with dry wood. I even made a bow to use as a
tool, but the wood turned out not to be dry enough. Then my eyes alighted on my
favourite Kodak 290 digital camera. I knew it must contain a lens, which would
help me light a fire. A little smoke would soon bring the rescuers overhead. A
modern camera was not so easily taken apart without tools but I succeeded in
extracting an undamaged lens. It was thick and looked promising but until the sun
could penetrate my part of the jungle at between midday and one the following
day, I could do nothing. At that time (this and the next day) there was no sun
to light a fire.
NIGHT
At that time of
year dusk fell at 6 pm and dawn broke at 6 am. In between were 12 hours of
frightfully long night that for me, without long sleeves or long trousers, was
also terribly cold. I had managed to make some kind of den from small leaves
and twigs and in it I crouched and shivered the whole nightlong. When it rained
I striped and tucked my shorts and tee shirt into my rucksack to keep dry. The
half an hour or so of rain did nothing except to make me shiver all the more.
As soon as the rain would stop, I quickly urinated in my bottle, gulped the
life-saving liquid down and dressed in dry clothes. If I had had to wear wet
clothes, I doubt if my organism would have survived the extra cold.
During the night
I was not alone. When the first evening I made my den, I lifted a rotting tree
trunk and exposed a nest that at first I thought was made by bees. It was
mosquitoes. There were hundreds of them not more than two metres from where I
lay. Luckily my wife had placed some insect repellent in my rucksack before I
left. I used it to cover the area, my clothes and arms and legs, the last
stinging me more than mosquitoes would as I was covered by about 500 scratches
and open wounds. To my pleasant surprise, the mosquitoes did not attack me,
perhaps because they had never tasted human blood.
Whilst I am still
on the good news, I must tell of the wonderful night concert and secret singing
that started in the evening and in various forms lasted the whole nightlong.
Also timid monkeys chased each other and made sounds among the branches
overhead and also threw things towards me.
IN MY OWN GRAVE
Of course whilst
laying in my jungle home in the canyon, I often felt I was in my own grave. In
case when they found me all they found was a corpse, I was determined I would
leave behind a testament to prove I didn’t die immediately. Each day I scratched
the number of days I’d spent there on a wall. I also used my trusty (now
defunct) digital camera to record my den and condition along with my showing a
number of fingers the equivalent to the number of days spent there. I could
also record my voice on the camera and did so to report each day what I did,
ending with a wonderful birdsong concert. The worse for me was that I was
leaving my wife two children to bring up alone. I was moved to tears thinking
of them. Although I had to break the camera, certain memory cards with more
than 100 pictures and 10 voice recordings I put in my pocket together with what
money I had. Unfortunately I lost them later falling again so they could no
longer be found.
CLIMBING
When on the
fourth and fifth day I started seriously considering my own rescue I often
glanced at the rock from which I had fallen. At least ten times I made myself
ready to climb it but always gave up out of fear of falling again. Then I began
thinking maybe it was foolish but worth a try rather than die there and never
see my children again. I began logically piecing together the reason for my
fall – the damp moss and lack of grip. And so I set to work – slowly, from the
bottom, I started to peel away the moss and using some sharp stones began chiselling
the rock for steps. About half way up the wall I realised I was standing well
and my fears gradually subsided. I’d decided to take my trainers off so as to
manage the climb easier and I flung them over the rock, just in case. I was
glad I did, for sometime on the fifth day I finally climbed out of my canyon
home, leaving all else I had behind (including my rucksack that had helped
protect my feet all those long nights). I didn’t then know it but ahead of me
lay three (even worse) days (and nights!).
FIRST ON A
WALKABLE PATH
I knew there was
no point in trying again to descend into the canyon so I had no choice but to
head towards the summit again and look for another way down. The first part of
the way was very difficult. I was already exhausted by my rock climbing. But
there was no other way. On the sixth day I finally found a path that looked
used (at first I thought by two people). This meant I no longer had to avoid
every cactus and remove every obstacle ahead of me. As the tracks seemed fresh,
I began thinking they had been made by my rescuers. I noticed they seemed to
have similar habits to me as I kept coming across the chewed remains of the
travellers’ tree. Although I was still climbing upward and clouds had begun to
gather over the peak that made orientation difficult, my morale (and strength)
was high as I was finally following the tracks of another human being. Things
were going OK; I forgot about any possible problems and simply followed the
tracks that were finally heading down towards the valley. Then it became more
and more like a canyon again. To my horror I found myself looking down on my
former grave. I saw my own rucksack and realised I’d followed my own footsteps
that had led me back to where I was that first day.
THE SECOND FALL
In such a
disappointed mood, it was difficult to think straight about what to do next. I
said a short prayer, thought about my wife and children and regained slowly the
will to try again. I was afraid I was already too exhausted to climb back out
of the canyon so I decided to head down, avoiding the most dangerous looking
places. I returned to the great wall by the side of my former home and
continued parallel to the canyon through thick jungle. It was very steep. So
steep, that if I was back in Slovenia, I would not have attempted such a
descent. Here the jungle protected me by placing obstacles such as thorns,
cacti and long grass to grip hold of in the way of any possible fall.
Unfortunately the grass did not protect me from falling. After more than two hours
of torturous progress and a hundred new scratches, I was about two hundred
metres further parallel the canyon. Then it became still steeper and the plants
growing from the rock were no longer any help at all. When I noticed this, it
was already too late to do anything about it. I felt the grass I was gripping
pulled out by the roots and began falling like a big pear from a tree. I
started sliding very fast downwards and fell on my back to the ground. It hurt a lot. I jumped up immediately
checking if my back is not broken. Thank God! Looking back I could see I’d
fallen (and survived) some eight metres.
A JUMP THERE HAS
NEVER BEEN
Now totally
exhausted and very painful, I felt myself sinking into apathy. Lower down in
the canyon I came across another steep drop that looked completely impassable.
I had only one choice – to simply jump six metres down. Ahead of me was a sheer
drop, that had once been carved out by a waterfall, with round rocks strewn
about beneath. I decided to jump even though I was by this time barefooted. I
knew that in the best case I would break a leg but I hoped to survive. I stood
on the edge as if preparing myself to dive into a swimming pool. I decided to
jump down to an area relatively clear of rocks so as to minimise my injuries.
Perhaps this was suicide? To do this had never crossed my mind before. Nobody
but God has the right to take a human life. What if there was another way out?
Climbing as in my youth! Then I noticed what could be a solution. There was a
large round rock trapped between two walls of the canyon, a metre and a half
apart. It was smooth but I thought there was a chance to do what I’d only seen
on television. I squeezed the fist of my right hand between the wall and the
rock and hung on it. What a person can do if he has to! I moved my other hand
and left leg to touch the other wall and, with the right leg, made a
counter-pressure. When I freed my right hand I could slowly make my way down by
pushing on my two feet against opposite walls at the same time. I said a quick
prayer of thanks that I didn’t jump.
THE LAST NIGHT
When at 6 pm I
prepared myself for sleep (shivering), I again anticipated a long night, made
particularly uncomfortable by the fact I was no longer in my den but on an
exposed rock. When would my suffering end? My skin burned and all my muscles
ached. Then I was taken by surprise. It was a full moon that lighted up the
whole canyon. Instead of a night of shivering, I decided to keep moving. I
plucked up my courage and will when eventually I found the first signs of
civilisation – a water collector. I used my hands to grip the larger rocks to
ease my aching feet. Then I found safer ground again but had to stand up again
to gather my strength. To keep my spirits up, I whispered Marjanca, my daughter’s
name, I must see you again.
RESCUE
My night’s
endeavours were successful. I found more parts of a water mains and knew I was
near civilisation. The full moon enabled me to see the main obstacles on my way
and avoid them. I could have twisted an ankle or broke a leg at any step. And
so at 6 am (on the 8th of
March) I reached level ground and heard the first sounds of civilisation –
ships, cars, barking dogs and the crowing of cocks. At 7 am, after eight days
of being alone, I reached the road of the first settlement, Barnes Ghaut. My
strength left me and I sank to the grass. I shouted a few times “Help!” I heard
a faltering step and before me appeared rough farmer’s boots. “Good man, water,
water!”. I was in luck, 70 year-old farmer, George Smitten, had water with him.
My Good Samaritan recognised me at once, “You are the one they are all looking
for”, he said. I felt so fortunate at getting something to drink, I immediately
took off my watch (my wife would not mind me giving up my birthday present for
turning 50) and offered it to him. Smitten rushed off to the village to get
Jack Junior with his jeep and I was soon on my way to Alexandra Hospital. In
the hospital they showed me a poster that had been distributed and hung all
over the island with my picture on it, offering 10,000 Caribbean dollars (about
3,500 American) from my wife and Slovenian rescuers for any information leading
to my rescue. This reward was paid in full the day I left the hospital and the
event was shown on local television.
THE SEARCH
Straight away I
saw the entire population of Nevis knew of my disappearance and had been deeply
concerned. The media reported on it in detail and accurately. Although up there
in the jungle I had doubted a proper search was being undertaken, glimpsing a
helicopter just once, a comprehensive search was got underway straight away and
all the time. The jungle was full of soldiers, students, hotel staff and
numerous other volunteers who called out to me and used tracker dogs. It’s true
Nevis is ill equipped for such a search and rescue attempt. Even the helicopter
had to fly from the neighbouring island of Antigua. When after some days local
effort had not found me, friends and colleagues at IUS SOFTWARE company attempted
to gain international help. In this Slovenian diplomats quickly and very
efficiently leapt into action.
In Nevis they
were soon surprised to hear that the government of the USA was willing to help
with a special plane equipped for searching for people in the jungle. At the
same time as I came to the settlement, the plane took off from New York. With
my safe return, the pilot happily flew back, unneeded.
HEARTFELT WELCOME
The only hospital
on Nevis is relatively poorly equipped but has fantastic staff. I had to rest a
while there and be cared for so as my internal organs could gather strength,
especially my kidneys. They did all they could for me and made my stay with
them as comfortable as possible. The first day was for the media. They also came
from neighbouring islands and the next day I read of the events in the
newspaper that reported very accurately. My story was also the focus for
attention on the local television. I got the best room and more than a hundred
well-wishers came to visit me over the following days, from children to
officials and the prime minister of Nevis. Most touching was an evening visit
by five old ladies singing black spiritual songs. They were so unassuming as to
start their singing outside so I asked a nurse to fetch them into the room.
They came in and their songs moved me to tears. I found out that these good,
friendly and religious people had taken my rescue as a kind of miracle, and it
was now necessary to give special thanks to God.
PRAYING
To survive my
ordeal there were two areas – physiological and psychological. Luckily my
internal organs, especially the kidneys and liver, held out and my energy was
distributed evenly. It was hard to believe I didn’t get a fever with all those
nights of suffering and damp.
Still more
important was internal energy and will to survive. For me praying helped a lot.
From the first evening I went missing, I could feel my wife and children
praying for me and later also my mother at the other end of the world. This
praying (broadcasting positive energy) was soon joined by thousands of other
people, especially in Slovenia and on Nevis. I prayed constantly, at least
twice an hour, once for help, a second time in thanks. In those first days I
had time to weigh up my 50 years and also to come to accept the possibility of
my own death – if such was God’s will. I also made certain personal vows that I
will keep. I am convinced that to have faith is an advantage in surviving
extreme conditions.
"fear nothing, for I am with you;
be not afraid for I am your God.
I strengthen you, I help you,
I support you with my victorious right hand .
...
For I, The Lord your God,
take you by the right hand;
I say to you, Do not fear;
it is I who help you, ...."
ISAIAH 41:10, 13
Thanksgiving:
I thank to the numerous employees and volunteers who
were looking for me, specially to the Disaster Preparedness co-ordinator Mr.
Llewellyn F. A. Newton, soldiers from St.Kitts, policemen from Nevis, Canadian
ship crew, pilot Steve Gray and his crew of the Caribbean Helicopters, Antigua, all of the
Nisbet Plantation Beach Club staff with Cathie
& Don Johnson for the true involvement, care and help to my family,
specially to the chief of security Mr. Nolan, assistant director Mr. Leon and
Mr. Steve, head of the anti-drugs service Mr. Austin with his team, the
Catholic, Methodist and Anglican priests for their prayers, services and
consolation, to dr. Singh and the wonderful staff of the Alexandra Hospital in
Charlestown, to Judy Sonnenberg and Nikka von Liemandt (with her family) for
helping my wife and the kids.
* I have written a book, which was first published in the Slovenian and now it is also available as an English language version:
The book looks like this:
Promotion of the
book:
The
book includes:
1.
more
details about my 8 days events and feelings
2.
description
of the rescue activities
3.
events
and feelings of my wife and children during the 8 days
You can buy the book from here:
Articles
My pictures of Nevis,
taken one year ago (hear the Nevisian music!).
Pictures from the Finance article:
*****
Reward leaflet, distributed in Nevis
St’Kitts&Nevis Observer
Our family
*****
|
Aleks |
Klemen |
Luka |
Rok |
Toni |
Vid |
Ilustrations of the children
from Vrtec Količevo (Kindegarden)
As Long As
What's Hope?
Psalm 23
That place...
Hard Times...
Don't Give Up
2016 update:
I finally did it! Together with my daughter Marjanca!
©Anton Tomažič 2008 - You
are free to publish the above article as a whole or in parts in any electronic
or paper publication as long as you add the link (URL) to this web page.