Climbing in Mexico: Worth the Risk?

In general I find that people are incredibly terrible at assessing risk. For example, parents are more afraid of letting their kids play at a friend's house whose parents own a gun than at a house with a swimming pool, but guess which one is 100 times more likely to result in accidental death?

As a species, we are far more afraid of activities associated with sensational news than really makes sense, from a statistical point of view. I don't want to discount the recent incident in Hidalgo, but I sincerely believe it was a one-time freak occurrence. Meanwhile every day in American cities, people are murdered, robbed, and assaulted and nobody even notices or cares.

I spent four months here last year, and literally NOTHING bad ever happened to me, nor did I ever feel unsafe in Hidalgo or EPC. You might be looking for trouble if you walk around the bad parts of Monterrey at night, but you never have to go into Monterrey while visiting here - the road from the airport stays north of the city. You also don't drive through the city if coming from Texas.

Look, climbing is a dangerous sport. It amazes me that the same people who are so bold on the rock are afraid of coming to Mexico, yet I can pretty much guarantee that you are 100x more likely to get hurt climbing than you are to experience any negative consequences from being here. And just like climbing, there are things you can do to mitigate your risk. For example:

• If driving, cross the border during the daytime, and don't stay in Nuevo Laredo longer than it takes to get your visa and car permit.
  
• Drive on the toll roads. They are smoother, faster, easier, and safer.
  
• Avoid Monterrey if possible, especially at night - like any large city, there's bound to be some violence in the bad parts of town.
  

El Potrero Chico is an amazing, beautiful place, with towering limestone crags jutting out of the ground at an impossibly steep and awe-inspiring angle. Don't let your fear of the unknown prevent you from experiencing all that it has to offer.

Climber Injured on Mota Wall

So a few days ago, on Monday night, I was eating some dinner that some friends and I had cooked in the La Posada kitchen. We hadn't been eating long when Magic Ed came into the kitchen and said to us, "Hey guys, I hate to interrupt your dinner, but we've got an injured climber and we need all the help we can get."

We immediately got up from the table and started gathering our gear. Ed said we should bring ropes, harnesses, slings, etc., but he was a little vague on the exact details of what happened or where. There weren't very many of us at camp so he rounded up a few more people in the other camps and we headed down to the Mota Wall in the van.

When we got out, we could already hear moaning coming from pretty high up on the Mota Wall trail. Apparently what had happened was this: Ed and Frank had been descending from a route after spending some time bolting it, and they had two different ropes set up for the rap down. In order to make it down, both Ed and Frank needed to switch ropes at the last anchor in order to rap all the way down to the ground. Ed had rapped first, but I guess Frank forgot to switch ropes at the anchor and kept going... and rapped all the way off the end of the rope, and fell about 20 feet to the ground. Apparently there was no knot at the end of the rope /-:

Despite wearing a helmet, Frank hit his head pretty hard, and seemed to have fallen on his right shoulder / arm pretty hard as well, and tumbled a bit down the trail before stopping. When we got up to him he had blood all over his face and some on his arm and shirt and he was moaning loudly from the pain.

The Brazilian guy (whose name I unfortunately don't know) got to him first, and apparently he used to be a firefighter in Brazil, so he took control of the situation and started asking Frank the typical questions, like what's your name, do you know what time it is, do you know where you are, etc., trying to determine how conscious he was. And of course, what had happened and where he hurt. He helped get him into a more comfortable position and kept talking to him.

It was pretty clear that Frank was in shock - he was in severe pain, he was cold, he was panicked, and most of all he was scared. He kept saying he needed to get the hell out of here, off the damn mountain. It's been quite a while since I've seen someone in that kind of state, panicked and bloody, and it made me tear up a little, thinking about just how fragile life can be sometimes, how one mistake can change everything.

We did a few things, like give Frank some water, and tried to stabilize his right leg (which seemed to be in pain?) and his right arm / wrist, which seemed to be broken. But really there was little we could do until the ambulance arrived. When the police came I hiked down because I wasn't sure if anyone was telling them what was going on, so I thought I'd try to advise them of the situation. I told them that Frank was high up on the hike, near where the lights where, and that we needed a stretcher. But the ambulance wasn't there yet.

After what seemed like an eternity, the ambulance finally arrived with a team of 5-6 medics. Thank God. They set up their gear, and followed us up the hike until we finally reached Frank. It was relatively high up there, maybe 200 feet above the road, and a pretty steep hike. Once there, they started outfitting him with better equipment to stabilize his head/neck, his arm, and his leg.

Frank was in a lot of pain, and they didn't give him any painkillers, other than the Ibuprofen that Ed had given him earlier. It was very difficult and painful to get him onto the backboard, and then they had to attach the backboard to the sled so that he could be carried down.

Us climbers had set up 3-4 climbing ropes attached to trees so that we could attach the rope to the top of the sled and help "belay" him down the very steep hike while the medics and climbers helped support the middle and bottom of the sled. Fortunately, once he was in the sled it didn't take us much more than 10-15 minutes to get him down since everyone was helping.

Soon after, they loaded him into the ambulance, and figured out which hospital to take him to, and took off. The rest of us climbers watched the ambulance drive off in silence, contemplating the seriousness of the situation. It seemed to us at the time that Frank's injuries were not so severe that he would die, but... you never know. He's also an older guy, at least in his sixties, so we were all pretty concerned about what would happen next.

As of this writing, I believe that Frank is still alive and in the hospital, and I think he's getting better, which I am very grateful for. I didn't know Frank particularly well, but I did climb a couple of routes with him last week and I also recognized him from last year. He's really a nice guy, and I really hope he pulls through.

I have to admit that I personally didn't do anything particularly heroic, except perhaps dropping everything to go help out a fellow climber. Anyone in my situation would have done the exact same thing. But it was really heartwarming to see so the EPC climbing community rally together to help someone who'd been injured. Together we were able to get him off the mountain, and it was great to see so much teamwork, solidarity, and unity among us.

I also want to give special thanks to the Brazilian guy, who took control of taking care of Frank, and Edgardo, who was instrumental in translating between Frank (who only speaks English) and the medics who only speak Spanish. Plus, Edgardo went to the hospital with him and spent all night there.

Please, please, tie knots in the end of your ropes when you're rapping off of a multipitch, wear a helmet, and double-check everything. Climbing is dangerous, but most accidents are preventable. Stay safe out there.