Now That's What I Call Adventure ... Part III

So, to continue the tale ... there we were, stuck 700m up Jordan's highest mountain in the middle of the desert, but actually things were going pretty well - leg strapped up and only giving me a dull thud most of the time, plenty of food, water and sunscreen, and when the sun set below the crest of the mountain the boys built a magnificent camp with a fire right next to me and a wall built by Mike's fair hands to keep the wind off - my Bedouin friends have said that it's such a good camp, they will leave the structures there and christen it 'Camp Jeanne'. By 4pm (three hours later?) we'd still had no word from anyone, but at last our guide Suleiman reappeared and told us that help was on its way.

But then things started to go a bit wobbly. It turned out that Vanessa, sent off to call the Embassy, was still at the bottom of the mountain out of phone range, and so hadn't been able to put a call in, and the 'help' on its way was the tourist police coming to carry me down the mountain. I'm not sure how rude I was at this point, but I tried to say as clearly and calmly as possible in Arabic that the MOST IMPORTANT THING was to make the call to the Embassy, and that Suleiman should go back down NOW and take Vanessa to the village. I also had to translate H's questions and instructions to Suleiman, and later to the tourist police and others who arrived, into Arabic and back from Arabic to English - talk about having to use my language skills "in anger"! I think Suleiman got the message, and off he rushed while we sat back and waited for the airlift. H and Clare had to leave us about this time, but they said they were only leaving because they were happy that I was in good hands and the right help was on its way.

The paramedics on their way up -
this is about one quarter of the rock face between me and the valley ...

About 5.30pm the 'help' arrived - two paramedics with a stretcher was a welcome sight, as was an English-speaking Bedouin nurse with his back pain pills for me and plenty of Bedouin 'muscle', but then it turned out that no-one had any form of communication, no strong pain-killers, and in fact nothing else to help me where I was or to get me down the mountain. To be honest, I really felt for the guys, because they looked like they knew that they couldn't really do much, and wanted to do more but couldn't. After much discussion and deliberating, everyone came to the conclusion that waiting a bit more for the airlift was going to be the best option, with the possibility of staying up on the mountain if need be, and while some guys went up the mountain to see if any of them could get reception and an update, the rest of us got comfy but also started thinking about all the options, wary of the setting sun approaching ...

So, in my head at this point, a beautiful rescue helicopter like this one was going to appear over the mountain to winch me away and rush me to some clean white hospital, all accompanied by a wave of something morphine-like washing over me ...

In fact, what happened is that around 5.30pm the news came through that there was no helicopter coming because I didn't have an open wound and wasn't unconscious - great, not broken enough or remote enough to warrant an airlift! And on top of that, it was starting to get cold, despite the blanket and fire I had. So, we had to face the hard reality that we were going to have to get me down the mountain one or the other. As I said before, moving 30m down a fairly gentle slope earlier in the afternoon was hell, so the thought of getting me down 700m, in some places near vertical, and still with no painkillers was frankly terrifying. Still, what choice was there? So, somewhere around 6pm, we made the call, I gritted my teeth and people got me into the stretcher to start the long descent.

It didn't bode well - they put me on the stretcher, then realised that it was too short and tried to adjust it with me on it, pushing and pulling in all directions. Thank God someone had the bright idea to get me off again and get it the right size first before putting me back on, I don't think I was capable of much beyond shouting a bit incoherently as they jostled me. Then they just lifted me up and headed off - was I the only person to notice that they hadn't actually tied me on to the stretcher, I still wonder? They also made the decision to take me down head first, so that I ended up sloping downwards with a great view of the void below, at some points almost vertical, with the only thing keeping me on the stretcher being my arms gripping for dear life to the stretcher frame, and the stretcher digging into my head. At one point the guys were dithering about which way to go, and i ended up screaming at them that if they didn't just go and get somewhere horizontal to give me a break, I was just going to end up falling off and taking the quick route down, head first ...

After the first few minutes, I decided that keeping my eyes firmly closed was the way forward, and trusting in Michel (who is President of a climbing federation in France and my all-time hero) to keep me safe and sort out the others, we slowly inched down. I don't know how Michel kept his cool through it all - he knew the best way down the mountain, being supremely skilled in that sort of thing and having done it four times that day, but the Bedouin and rescue guys didn't listen to him at first and I really thought he was going to end up lamping one of them - I know I almost did, and they were certainly aware of how cretinous he thought they were. Thankfully though, everyone swallowed their pride and got on with it, especially when complete darkness descended and we had to do the last 30-40 minutes with only Michel's headlamp for light (a rescue team with torches? come on ...). I'm not the best person to judge, but it seemed to take somewhere around 2 hours to get down that cliff, and the relief all round was so great that we all had stop and applaud (after they'd put me down!) and I nearly wet myself with relief. One thing at least, the sheer terror had taken my mind off the foot, and at that point I was just laughing and happy to be alive ....