In 1972, when I was 12, I saw this story on the news. We lived on a dirt road in the middle of nowhere in S. GA with only three stations so that’s where we got the majority of our news from.
I was captivated from the start. I then read the book, which came out a year or so later and became even more hooked on this story of suffering, struggle, and redemption.
I began to follow the lives of the survivors throughout the years, and, lo and behold, 35 years later, I found myself sitting in a café in Mendoza, Argentina across the table from one the survivors…him telling me his story.
He agreed to take me and a small group of others (we had a Spanish speaking guide with us from CO. USA) to the actual crash site high in the Andes. It was a tortuous journey. Eight hour drive to the foothills, two days on horseback…and that’s just to get to base camp.
We spent two days at base camp ( 9,000’) “acclimatizing” to get used to the thin air. On day three, we started our ascent to the crash site at 12,000’ on more horses. This took about 7 hours. Where all the wreckage is strewn over the mountain side there is a grave that holds the bodies of the dead boys who died in the crash and subsequent avalanche that killed more boys several days after the initial crash.
Eduardo Strauch, survivor, told us his story as he knelt beside the grave of his dead friends. Keep in mind, these boys all lived on the same street, same neighborhood and attended the same Catholic School and played on the same Rugby team. They were all VERY close.
Any way, through tears, Eduardo told us his amazing story, there, on the very spot where it all happened. There wasn’t a dry eye on that mountain top when he finished. Many people became so overwhelmed with sorrow they had to step away and be alone. But, as he said, even in the face of great suffering, he found solace.
He told me, privately, (he took a liking to me for some reason…he would call me over to his tent with his wife & son just to chat) that he does not believe in a one God but that “God” as he knows it, is all around us. In the air, the mountains, etc.
Eating human flesh was a big deal. But they all did what they had to do to survive. I chose to remain at the crash site at 12,000’ and camp that night with my friend and guide from CO, Ricardo Pena, so we could climb to 15,000’ the next morning to actually see where the plane initially “hit” the side of the mountain before it slid down a narrow valley and came to rest on the glacier near where the boys are buried.
This was, beyond any doubt, the most miserable I’ve ever been in my life. I come from a farm background and considered myself in great shape at 47, having trained for 6 months for this very day as well. But the altitude took its toll on me.
No sleep in the tent the night before the ascent, no high altitude experience, extreme nausea, diarrhea, etc. I made it to just short of 15,000’ on a smaller peak that WAS NOT the peak that the plane crashed into. (we couldn’t ascend that one because of bad snow conditions) Eduardo still keeps in touch with me via email. He is a family man and full of life and a great sense of humor. He signed my copy of ALIVE! with: “To my southern red kneck friend Damien. Best wishes! Eduardo Strauch.” I made a video montage of the trip too.
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