Will to Live: Dispatches from the Edge of Survival (20 page)

Jim and Jenn were hampered by the fact that neither one of them took a leadership role. I realize it can be difficult when it’s a husband and wife and there’s an infant in the mix as well, but even in a group as small as two people, one person has to take over and lead, make the tough decisions. Somebody needs to consider the big picture—assess and plan. In this case, I think it should have been Jim, who had military training and was actually working in the army at the time. But he didn’t, at least not at the beginning.

As their first full day alone turned to darkness, the Stolpas knew they would be spending another frigid night in the truck. Finally, Jim and Jennifer’s survival instincts kicked in. They discussed the possibility of walking to seek help, began to ration what little food they had left, and even discussed aspects of the survival training Jim had in boot camp. With little baby formula left, Jennifer tried to nurse Clayton, whom she had been weaning off breastfeeding. They ran the engine intermittently through the night for heat, using the truck’s headlights during these times to flash
sos
in Morse code. The storm still raged outside, blanketing the ground around them in a deep cover of snow.

In situations like this, the common thinking is to stay with the vehicle. Often, this is the best choice. But this was a classic case where staying put was not the best thing to do. The Stolpas determined from their road map that they were in the wildlife refuge. Given this information, they should have figured it was likely that very few people would pass their way in
good
weather, let alone in the wake of a winter storm.

Had he made this assessment, Jim likely would have realized that heading back the way they came, for help on the very first day—when they still had food and enough fuel in the truck to keep Jennifer and Clayton nourished and warm—was the right thing to do. Like so many other people, though, Jim rigidly followed the heavily preached mantra of staying put. He wasn’t the first, and certainly won’t be the last, person to make this mistake. People will stubbornly stay put like good soldiers, even when circumstances clearly dictate otherwise. This is why assessment is so important in survival situations.

Day two came and went, as did day three. As the fourth morning in the truck dawned, Jim and Jennifer’s food ran out, despite the rationing. Jim realized they could not rely on waiting anymore, especially since the truck was getting dangerously low on fuel. To review: four days—
four days!
—with virtually no food and making no attempt to get out. It would seem the Stolpas were crippled by a stubborn “wait for someone else to rescue us” notion. Even if the weather was terrible, they still waited too long to affect their own survival. At a minimum, they should have tried harder to signal for help.

Jim’s original plan was to go by himself, leaving Jennifer and Clay in the truck. But Jenn would have none of it. They were a family and would travel together. They decided to walk east toward Highway 140, which they determined to be some twenty miles away. It was now Saturday, January 2.

The most serious issue was that they were attempting a trek based on the unknown. They would head across land twenty miles instead of heading fifty miles back in the direction they knew. I wasn’t there, but I think I know what my decision would’ve been: to head back along the path I knew. It is the only sure bet in a dangerous situation. Taking the risk, in their state, was not a good choice. Better to follow the adage “go with what you know.”

Before they set out, they wrote extensively in Jenn’s diary, detailing their ordeal to that point and their plan to walk to safety. Like the Robertsons before them, they even wrote rudimentary wills, another action I find difficult to believe. Consider some of the other great stories of survival I’ve chosen for this book: Yossi Ghinsberg, Nando Parrado, Douglas Mawson. These people didn’t spend time writing wills and obsessing about dying. They dedicated their mental energies to thoughts of living, surviving, reaching safety. Even Chris McCandless waited until he knew he was going to die before he wrote his own epitaph. By comparison, Jim and Jennifer seemed to have little, if any, survival instinct, and at this point at least, they displayed a weak will to live.

As they got ready to head out, their lack of preparation once again reared its ugly head. They had very few warm clothes with them, an unforgivable oversight given that they were driving into a winter storm. But to their credit, they made do with what little they had. Jim had no long underwear, so he donned a pair of his wife’s stockings instead. They pulled on as many pairs of socks as they could find and wrapped their feet in plastic bags before putting on their sneakers. Jim and Jennifer realized their feet would suffer dearly on the walk through the snow, but did nothing more to protect themselves, when the truck offered a host of resources that could have eased their future suffering.

It’s not easy to systematically destroy your vehicle, but once they decided to head out on their own, there was no reason to keep the truck in one piece. To protect their feet in this situation, they could have dismantled the truck’s seats. When cut to size and shape, the foam cushions make well-insulated snowshoes. Seat covers can be used to cover the snowshoes, and seat-belt webbing is perfect for securing the shoes to your feet. These would not only have kept their feet warm, but would have facilitated walking over the deep snow they were about to encounter.

Yet the bounty of a truck doesn’t stop there. Wiring proves a useful substitute for twine, to tie things. Hubcaps can be used as eating or drinking vessels, or even for digging. And side or rearview mirrors are great signaling devices.

In situations such as these, layering clothing is another important survival strategy. Wearing just one heavy item of clothing will invariably promote sweating, which is the last thing you want to have happen in cold-weather conditions, since the moisture on your skin will cause you to cool off quickly. Someone once said, “You sweat, you die.” You’re much better off to wear several layers of lighter clothing; this way, you can easily peel off layers as your level of effort increases, preventing sweat.

When it came to Clayton, the Stolpas had to be a bit more creative. They bundled the infant in all his clothes, stuffed him inside two sleeping bags, then zipped him into Jim’s garment bag, which Jim pulled behind him like a sled.

From what I can tell, the Stolpas didn’t melt any water to bring along with them on their journey, which would have been very easy, given that they were generating lots of heat with the truck. Figuring out what to use as a container would have been more challenging, but possible.

Jim’s last action before heading out was to leave left a note on the truck’s dashboard:

To Our Potential Rescuers
If we are already dead don’t mind the rest of this letter. But if we are nowhere to be found we have started walking to 140 as it appears the closest place to find help.
Sincerely, The Stolpa Family
P.S. Our final destination is Denio.
P.P.S. We are carrying with us a 5-month-old baby. HELP!!

So much is missing from this note. How many were in the family? Did they have food? Supplies? Was anyone injured? How old were they? Who should be called? In short, this note is woefully inadequate and offers little helpful information for potential rescuers.

In most cases, leaving the truck might have been a calculated risk. But it wasn’t in this instance, since the Stolpas apparently made
no
calculations regarding their situation. They sat and waited when they should have been taking proactive measures to ensure their survival. They only made a move when it seemed they had no other choice. Jim would later say that saving his child was the driving force behind leaving the truck and seeking rescue. Thank goodness
something
finally welled up inside them to elicit a response!

The going was tough from the outset. The snow was waist deep in places, but the day was clear and bright, and at least they could see where they were going. They hiked for hours and their feet began to get very cold, but eventually they came to a fork in the road and a sign that read hell creek. There was no such place on their map, so they took a chance and chose what they thought was the right path. They continued to trudge through the snow, pushing eastward. Little did they know they were now walking along an off-road trail and were headed deeper into the wilderness—away from safety.

With no water on hand, the Stolpas’ only choice was to eat snow. Most survival experts will say this is the wrong thing to do, as it reduces body temperature and consumes precious calories during warming, but I disagree. I believe that, given the vital role that water plays in survival, it’s okay to eat snow if it’s early in the day and you’re working hard. There is little chance that the occasional mouthful of snow is going to cool you when you’re trudging through knee-high snow. Sure, it’s better to drink water. But given the alternative—dehydration—I’ll take my chances eating snow. The Inuit people of Canada eat snow all the time, and they know a thing or two about surviving in the cold. You have to be careful about doing it late in the day, though, when you’re tired and the weather begins to turn colder. Your defenses start shutting down as evening sets in, and eating snow can do more harm than good.

The day was growing late, but Jim wisely kept Jennifer moving. From looking at their road map, Jim was convinced that the road they were seeking could not be far off. Using this as their motivation, Jim and Jennifer pressed on, up one last hill. The road, they thought, would either be right below or, at a minimum, visible from the top. Exhausted and freezing, the Stolpas finally crested the hill that stood between them and their expected salvation. But when they reached the top, they were shocked to see nothing but more snow-covered hills stretching in every direction toward the horizon. They had been hiking for more than twelve hours—in the wrong direction.

The direness of their situation was worsened when they realized that Clayton had not made a sound for quite some time. It took a while to muster the courage, but Jim finally opened the suit bag to find the baby safe and sound. It’s almost inconceivable to me that they didn’t open the bag immediately to check on their child, yet the scare seemed to harden them to the grim reality of their situation and increase their collective will to live. I wonder how well they would have fared had they not had Clayton with them.

With no other choice, the Stolpas decided to head back to the truck. They fought for every step; it wasn’t long before darkness began to fall and the weather again took a turn for the worse. They knew they were not going to make it back to the vehicle that night, and decided to rest for a while. But where? In the fading light they saw nothing but snow-clad hills. So they sought shelter under some brush in the lee of a hill, threw a sleeping bag over their bodies, and rested as best they could against the onslaught of cold that came with night.

A much better option would have been for the Stolpas to anticipate their needs beforehand and actively seek out a place to spend the night. That way, they could have fashioned a shelter, maybe even made a fire to keep themselves warm. The truck’s hubcap likely would have proven useful in helping them dig themselves a nice shelter in the snow. But they were still
reacting
to the situation instead of taking proactive measures, and it cost them dearly.

When morning dawned, they were encouraged to find that the wind and snow had stopped, but another obstacle now stood between them and rescue. When Jennifer tried to stand up, she fell immediately to the ground. She knew with every ounce of her being that the only way to survive was to walk, yet her body would not cooperate. Then, not far away, Jim spotted a shallow cave tucked into the base of a hill. It wasn’t much, but all three Stolpas fit comfortably inside, and it afforded a bit of protection from the elements. After the hell of the previous evening, the cave seemed downright luxurious.

Decision time. Jennifer did not have the strength to continue, but they knew their chance of being rescued from the cave was even slimmer than it had been back at the truck. Jim finally realized what he had to do. He had to make his way, alone, back to the truck, then head in the other direction—west—toward Cedarville, the last populated town they had passed while driving. Coming to grips with the fact that you’ve gone the wrong way and must retrace your steps is humbling and often demoralizing. It may help to know that you are trying to better your situation. Accepting that you’ve made a huge mistake is one of the toughest survival mentalities to have to deal with.

Before heading out, Jim faced reality with his wife. Cedarville was fifty miles from the truck. If he was lucky, help would find its way back to the cave in three days. It was a frighteningly long time, but Jim knew that staying in the cave meant eventual death for the family. He had no choice. He left their few remaining scraps of food with Jenn and Clayton, along with the sleeping bags and blankets, and headed out again into the snow. The last thing he did before setting out at around 9
a.m.
was to tie a colorful sweatshirt to a small tree outside the cave to mark the location. It was a smart move.