Descent

September 8: The morning dawns crisp and cold. The warmth of the sun gives way to damp chills as clouds move through, then returns to bless us again as the clouds pass by. After breakfast, we pack our gear and move to the ridgeline once again. We stop, the eight yogis who have trekked through dung and leeches; we who have sweated and cursed and shivered together; we who have shared our most private thoughts, and fears, and aspirations; we who have waited out landslides, and who have climbed to heaven. We stop, form a circle, and hold hands.

Together we chant the Gayatri Mantra three times. For many months, Gayatri has been the first music I listen to each day. Today, at the edge of Topovan, we chant.

Om Bhur Vhuvah Svah;
Om Tat Savitur varenyam bhargo devasya dhimahi;
Dhiyo yo nah prachodayat. Om.

(Oh, creator of the Universe! We mediate upon they supreme splendor. May thy radiant power illuminate our intellects, destroy our sins, and guide us in the right direction.)

Without shame, the tears flow down my cheeks. What beauty surrounds me. What beauty accompanies me in the men who stand here. What beauty is within me. Aaron reminds us that the divine power of the universe is the power in each of us. We prepare to descend.
Once again, I am positioned immediately behind the guide. I lengthen my poles for the descent, and we set out. It remains difficult to stay focused on the path. “It is all downhill from here.” There is talk and laughter behind me. An occasional slip of the foot, mine or another’s, sends a trail of gravel sliding down the mountain. There is also caution. No one has forgotten where we are, nor Aaron’s promise before we left Rishikesh that he will bring us all off the mountain safely.
I don’t know how long it has been. We aren’t very far down the mountain. Perhaps it was fifteen minutes, a little more or a little less. I hear shouting up above and turn to see a boulder careening down the face of the mountain. It bounds to the left, lands and bounces left again. Perhaps the next bounce will take it to the right, or straight ahead. I start shouting. I check my footing, looking where and how far I am able move in each direction in order to dodge it. What they say about these moments is true. It seems like it all is happening in slow motion. What is only been a matter of seconds unfolds frame by frame in front of me. The others above me hear the screams, perhaps mine, perhaps from the hikers above them. They begin to turn, to look upward. As he turns and looks, the boulder takes one more bounce and hits Aaron on his upper left leg.

My world is frozen. There is no sound. I loose sight of the boulder. And then, Aaron screams. He screams in pain, and in anger. And he screams. And he screams. It seems as if he takes a few hops on one leg, and then he folds down to the ground. Others, who are close by, surround him instantly. And he screams. Our guide moves back up past me. I remain where I am, not sure that I can provide any assistance and not wanting to be in the way. And he screams. He screams in pain. He curses. And he screams.

The others position themselves around Aaron to stabilize him. They are below him to prevent him from rolling down. They are above him to prevent anything else coming down the mountain from hitting him. They begin to cover him, to keep him warm, and to administer first aid.
And Aaron finds the power of Gayatri within him. Once again, he takes charge. First, he sends Tom with one of the guides into Vojbasa. Tom is the most agile and swiftest among us. He also has an incredibly level head. When he reaches the police station in Vojbasa, he is to ask them to radio the military base outside Gangotri, and have them send the helicopter we saw there to airlift Aaron.

Next, he sends the porters down the mountain. They are to also travel into Vojbasa (if necessary) and find items to fashion a stretcher, leaving the burdens they are carrying there so that if need be they can carry Aaron off the mountain. Finally, he summons Pablo, Brent and me. He assigns one porter to guide us off the mountain. The two Roberts and Jojo will stay with him.
Before we leave, Robert Johnson asks me if I think I can make it without my trekking poles. They would like them, if needed, to help stabilize Aaron, perhaps to splint him. My poles have been how I have traveled the entire trek, yet there is no hesitation. I swap my two high-tech, carbon-fiber poles for one too-short bamboo pole and head down the mountain.

Leaving Aaron and the others behind, there is only one thought in my mind. Aaron still feels responsible for getting us off the mountain safely. Now it is my responsibility to reach Gangotri without mishap. We move swiftly. I am not sure that we stop for more than a few seconds to grab a drink of water or to check in with one another. We are not moving in a foolhardy way; but, we are not wasting any time.

All the way to Vojbasa, I keep scanning the sky, listening for the helicopter. It never comes. At Vojbasa we meet Tom and the other porters. They have stowed the gear along the trail, and are heading back. Tom is uncertain whether he has been able to communicate to the police the nature of the emergency, the seriousness, or the urgency. We hurriedly eat our lunch. Pablo, Brent, the porter and I then set out for Gangotri. I watch the sky, and I listen.

It is mid-afternoon by the time we arrive in Gangotri. Perhaps an hour out, while still on the trail, we are passed by four men carrying a dandie, or “sedan chair.” It looks like the frame of a kayak with a seat suspended in the center, and a pole at each end for carrying. We hope they are heading to Aaron. Arriving in Gangotri, we are assured that this is the case; the police in Vojbasa have radioed the police in Gangotri, and they have dispatched the rescue crew.

We knew that they cannot reach Aaron on the mountain before sundown, and they can neither climb nor descend in the dark. We have to try again. A call is placed to the tour company that had provided the guides and porters; it is Saturday and they are not there, so Pablo leaves a voicemail message. We then track down the guide who had left us after the first trek. Reaching him by phone, I ask him to find the number for the US embassy in Delhi. Soon after, he calls back with the number. For the next eight hours, the embassy and I are in contact as they trace the progress of the rescue. They advise me that it will not be possible to get all of the approvals required to send a helicopter. And, they have an ambulance sent to Gangotri to await Aaron’s arrival. (photos by Robert Johnson)