The temperature underground could fluctuate from being comfortable and cool in the intake air tunnels, to humid and extremely hot in the tunnels where air was returning to the surface. Air was sucked through the mine from the surface and when it was on its way back to the top it was full of coal dust, fumes and was hot as hell. I was a new guy in a contractor company, which meant a majority of my jobs were to be conducted in the areas where it was the dirtiest, hottest and most uncomfortable. A shift was twelve hours in length and depending on the work I was doing it could be the longest day of my life.
I had a lot to learn but I was keen to work and attacked the job with the same vigour I have with training. My jobs included hanging pipes and hoses for the air and water supplies, putting in roof and wall bolts, using big water and air powered drills, building structures for the massive coal belts to run along and building walls to re-channel the ventilation of the tunnel system. Most of it was manual work and almost always ended with me being soaking wet from head to toe and as black as midnight from all of the coal dust. I wore a face mask, glasses, gloves and ear plugs, which as well as being safe was stifling and added to the uncomfortable nature of the job. At times it was really hard physical work and the only thing that would keep me going was the thought of that fat pay cheque coming in. Every hour I worked was $55 to my savings, overtime hours were $110 per hour and I was grabbing every overtime day I could get my hands on. My first week’s pay totalled $2200 and as my skills improved and the overtime became more readily available, my pay got bigger and bigger.
One of the benefits of mining work was that you received free accommodation and free food. I lived in a big hotel/village of miners that had its own kitchen serving first-class food from 4 am to 10 pm every day. They also provided all the food I needed for my work day and transport to the mine was via a free bus that departed in front of the hotel. All of my work clothes were provided along with the washing of them. This allowed me to save nearly all of my money with my only expenses being a gym membership and the occasional meal out in town. I had even found a way around the need for a car by finding an old pushbike at the back of the hotel and getting it working again. The gears wouldn’t change, it was rusted beyond repair but it moved when pedalled and got me from A to B.
I maintained my training routine while mining in Emerald as I didn’t want to lose the fitness focus I gained in Phuket. I would ride to the gym at 4 am before work and then again at 8 pm after work and I enrolled in an online personal trainer course to continue my education in the health and fitness industry. I also finished a security course which allowed me to work as a security guard. I did this for two reasons: one was because on my days off when I had no work at the mine I could get a second job to keep the dollars coming in; and the other was that I didn’t want to drink at the pubs in town, I wanted to keep a clear head, but I also wanted to meet girls and catch up with friends. So by being the bouncer at the best pub in town it covered all of my bases; I could talk to everyone and have a fun night while also taking care of them. I wouldn’t be drinking and at the end of it I was paid. Perfect result.
I was in great physical and mental shape, and even though the work hours were tough I was loving life. The other miners thought I was slightly crazy, especially on occasions when I asked to get dropped off the bus outside of town to run the rest of the way home. I was always a good runner and was starting to put in longer and longer distances. One of the guys at work said to me, ‘You’re too big for running.’ I said, ‘That’s not true, I could do a marathon if I wanted too.’ At 94 kilograms I was a lump of a man and they all laughed thinking I was delusional. I wanted to prove them wrong but I had never run more than 15 kilometres in my life.
At 4 am on the following Saturday morning I had a friend drive me 42 kilometres out of town, making him stop every 10 kilometres so I could put down some water on the side of the road. As he was about to drive away he asked me, ‘Are you sure about this bro?’ I said, ‘Don’t worry, I’ll be fine,’ and he just smiled, told me I was nuts and drove away. It was still a while before dawn as he drove out of sight and the surrounding bushland was pitch-black. It was time to run a marathon.
I was alone in the bush as I set off at my usual pace, with the crisp, fresh morning air nudging me along. The sun started to break through on the horizon sending orange and deep yellow beams of light penetrating through the trees and shimmering off the road in front of me. The first 10 kilometres were easy and my confidence soared as I stopped at my first water drop for a drink. Setting off again I thought to myself, I’m going to smash this, as my naive confidence was bursting at the seams. Reaching the second water drop at the 20-kilometre mark I had slowed down slightly but was still making good speed. The sun was up by the time I was searching for my 30-kilometre marker and I had decreased in speed substantially.
The mid-morning heat was affecting me, my legs were on fire and everything was starting to fatigue. The last 12 kilometres as I searched the horizon for town were absolute hell. My feet ached with pain, my legs were weakening by the second and my pace was almost walking speed as I rounded the corner home. I collapsed onto the front lawn gulping water from the garden hose and trying to dissipate the burning sensation in my legs. I had just run a marathon in five hours twenty-five minutes and it almost killed me. My body was shattered and it would take me a week to recover, however when I rolled into work on Monday and told the guys I finished a marathon on the weekend I was bursting with pride and had a smile from ear to ear.
…
Working underground is a dangerous job and after six months it became a reality when we had a cave-in at work. I was working down on the main coalface with the full-time miners who specialise in cutting the coal. It’s a dangerous place to be because the coal and rock are exposed and we hadn’t placed in any roof or wall support at this stage. As I was clearing away a broken drilling rig I heard calls for help coming from further down the tunnel. I dropped the drill and raced down to see what was happening and came across a miner trapped under a slab of rock with his leg pinned. The more experienced guys turned up and started the rescue operation and I jumped in to help where I could. We lifted the slab of rock off him and placed him onto a stretcher. It was clear to see his lower leg was shattered and we had to get him out of the mine as quick as possible. My days in the military once again came in handy as I carried one corner of the stretcher over the rock and rubble and down the tunnel. A vehicle had been organised and we placed the stretcher inside, it sped away towards the waiting ambulance on the surface leaving us all in a semi–state of shock.
It was a big wake-up call for all of us and for me especially. It set in motion thoughts of finishing up in mining and getting back on the road travelling and having adventures. It wasn’t due to the danger or the fear of dying, it was the fear of getting hurt or dying down there because of my quest for money. If I’m going to die I’d like to go out my way doing something I love doing, not dying or becoming seriously crippled for $55 an hour.
I showered up after work, washing off the black coal dust from every pore of my skin, coughing up phlegm tainted with grey specks from the dusty air. I had made my decision, it was time to leave and I knew exactly where I wanted to go.
I had been reading adventure books my entire life. I was given a Wilbur Smith book when I was a kid and devoured the stories of explorers in deepest Africa and voyages on the high seas. While mining I was engrossed in mountaineering sagas. Into Thin Air by Jon Krakauer was a favourite even though it was written about the 1996 tragedy on Mount Everest that killed eight climbers. Touching the Void was an amazing story of survival and the books on Sir Edmund Hillary and his siege of Everest made me wish I was born a century earlier. The adventurers of old seemed to be made of steadfast stoic bravery that inspired me, captured my imagination and made me believe that I could be made of the same stuff if I was to endure similar extremes. I began to search for an adventure that would test me and when I came across a familiar list I knew I had fo
und what I was looking for.
The Seven Summits is a list of the highest mountains on each continent and is a lifetime mountaineering goal for many climbers. I made a decision to attempt to climb these seven peaks all in one year: Aconcagua, 6961 metres in Argentina; Denali, 6194 metres in Alaska; Kilimanjaro, 5895 metres in Tanzania; Carstensz Pyramid, 4884 metres in West Papua; Mount Elbrus, 5642 metres in Russia; Vinson Massif, 4892 metres in Antarctica; and Mount Everest, 8848 metres in Nepal. I had no experience apart from what I had learnt in the military, no climbing equipment and no idea how to go about planning this ambitious goal. I set myself to task and researched every single detail over the following month. I was like a man possessed and nothing was going to stand in my way of achieving this dream.
I needed a logo to represent me as I attacked this adventure and also to help me recruit sponsors. I was in need of funding to offset the mountain of costs associated with climbing on the seven continents of our big world. I sat down with a pen and pencil and started brainstorming ideas. After lots of scribbles and many crumpled pages I called Mum; she was always great with ideas and I knew she could help me out. I called her up and when I told her I was stuck for a logo, she immediately mentioned the tattoo I had on my forearms, One Life One Chance, ‘Why not OLOC’ she said, ‘OLOC Adventures.’ My mum was a genius, it was a perfect fit to my persona, values and life ambitions.
I was sitting in the mess hall of the mining camp as I sketched the words OLOC Adventures onto paper. I placed two crossed ice axes around the text and in the middle of the logo I sketched a picture of Ama Dablam, the most beautiful mountain you will ever lay eyes on. Ama Dablam is located in Nepal and I first saw her while on a hiking trip to that amazing country during one of my first summers living in Europe. From the moment I saw her exposed summit no other mountain, not even the majestic Mount Everest, could cast a shadow over her beauty. I sent my sketch away to a graphic designer friend of mine who sent back what you now see on the back of this book. OLOC Adventures was born.
I found a company online based in New Zealand that specialises in guiding people up the biggest mountains on earth and they sounded like a perfect fit to help me achieve my goal and teach me the much needed skills to survive climbing the seven summits. Next I came up with a list of equipment that was essential to climb mountains above 6000 metres and I sent this list to a local climbing store a few hours’ drive away to order in from America for me. It was a big list and when I handed over the cheque for A$12,000 it was the biggest payment the little shop had seen before. Boots, ice axes, harness, snow shoes, sleeping bags and much more.
After weeks of emails, phone calls and face-to-face conversations I was starting to get some sponsors for my adventure. The Coalfields Lodge mining camp that I was living in was the first to come on board and I will be forever grateful to them for doing so. I was beginning to think I wasn’t going to get anyone at all before they handed over a $1000 cheque. A week later I received a cheque in the mail for $2000 from Dick Smith, a successful Australian businessman, who didn’t even reply to my constant emails and just sent the money, a true Aussie legend. I wanted to get a supplement sponsor to help me sustain myself with powdered protein while in the mountains. The biggest company I knew of was ASN (Australian Sports Nutrition) and I sent an email to everybody in the company outlining my seven summits challenge. I finally received a message from Simon, the owner of the company, who said I was annoying everyone with my emails but asked how he could help. He is a great guy who has been a constant sponsor of my trips and a good friend to this day.
The final cost to accomplish the seven summits was going to be upwards of A$150,000. I had no idea how I was going to raise that kind of cash but I set my sights on one mountain at a time and I was sure something would come along to help me get there. I had one more week of underground mining to go before I departed, firstly back to Thailand for a month of build up training over Christmas and New Year, then onwards to Argentina and my first mountain Aconcagua. I was the fittest I had ever been, my mind was clear and I was focused on my goal. My training routine had increased my overall fitness and prepared me physically but I still had no idea how my body would handle the high altitude or the freezing temperatures I would be facing. I was searching for a challenge that would test me to my core, forcing me to a place where I would find out exactly what I’m made of and capable of.
In the Army I was pushed to breaking point and in that moment I discovered who I really was; I wanted that clarity again. This would be the biggest challenge of my life and push me to my absolute limit both physically and mentally. Would I be made of the same stuff as the great explorers that came before me? Or would I be left wanting? As I boarded my flight I contemplated these questions and in the end I came to one conclusion: we only have one life and one chance so let’s go find out.
CHAPTER 6
ACONCAGUA, ARGENTINA
…
Aconcagua is the biggest mountain in the Southern Hemisphere and the biggest mountain outside of Asia, standing proud at 6961 metres. It’s located in the Andes mountain range of Argentina and is 112 kilometres from the city of Mendoza. While researching my first big mountain, some reviews rated Aconcagua as a safe trekking peak suitable for all aspiring mountaineers. Others warn never to underestimate the biggest peak in South America as the weather is unpredictable, can change in minutes and trap climbers on its exposed face. The mountain has a 60 per cent success rate and kills on average three climbers per season making Aconcagua the deadliest mountain in Argentina and given a nickname by the locals, ‘Mountain of Death’.
I landed in Mendoza on 31 January 2011 and was ready to test myself against the mountain of death. I was joining a team of climbers from all over the world as part of an Adventure Consultants expedition led by a local guide and support team. Mendoza is one of the world’s nine great wine capitals and sits in a region that is the largest wine producer in Latin America. It has tree-lined streets, friendly locals and some of the best meat, bread and olives I had ever tasted. After checking into the recommended team hotel I threw my bags onto my bed, washed my face and went to find everyone on the team at our pre-arranged meeting.
We had a mixed bag of international adventurers making up our expedition team. Our head guide was Matias from Chile, who had ten years of guiding experience on Aconcagua and before leading expeditions worked as a porter ferrying loads. Matias came across as a friendly guy, down to earth, who knew every little detail about his beloved mountain. He had two assistant guides, Leonardo and Juan, who both beamed big smiles when introduced to the group. The team consisted of Petros, Warwick and Michael as my fellow Australians. Richard and Simon were from our closest neighbour, New Zealand, Johanne and Knut were from Norway, Richard from the USA, Brian from Canada and Dody from Indonesia. Eleven excited members in total including myself, with ages ranging from twenty-six to sixty-one years old.
After we had met each other and shared our short stories about who we were and where we came from, Matias proceeded to tell us about that season’s attempts to climb the mountain; the reports were not very encouraging. Most teams had hit extreme winds and cold and hadn’t had more than a couple, if any, of their team members summit. One team in December had most of their tents blown clean off the mountain at camp three and had to return home. Although the weather had been terrible up until now Matias assured us that it was time for it to change, with the utmost confidence he told us, ‘It cannot stay this bad all season.’
Matias had confidence yet wasn’t cocky, he respected the mountain and his assistant guides respected him. He had a wealth of knowledge and answered endless questions and queries from the newly formed team. We ran through a full gear check to ensure every member of the team had all the necessary equipment to summit safely. We were all dismissed shortly afterwards to enjoy the afternoon and evening in Mendoza. Anyone who was missing equipment would have time to find and purchase it and everyone else could enjoy the famous hospitality of this Argentinian city.
It was a cool afternoon as I wandered around the tree-lined streets, being careful not to trip on the uneven pavement, where the roots from the enormous trees had burrowed underneath and forced it skywards. The locals were all very friendly, smiling as they passed by, and the local restaurants and street vendors were all doing their best to entice me in for a wine, beer or food. I wandered for the best part of the afternoon and met up with a few members of the team, who invited me along for a drink and dinner. Sitting at a local restaurant I wasn’t going to drink but I did order the local dish, bife de chorizo (steak). It came with warm bread rolls and a dish of butter, I’m a simple man when it comes to cuisine and I was in heaven.
As I listened to the two Richards and Simon talk about their mountaineering achievements and hash over the details Matias had given us about our attempt on the mountain, I daydreamed about the first big ascents on the great peaks and in whose pioneering footsteps we would be following. We would be climbing Aconcagua expedition style (siege style), meaning we would set up multiple camps as we ascended the mountain, using local porters to carry the extra equipment, and spending as much time on the mountain as necessary to complete the job. This style of climbing was famously used by Sir Edmund Hillary while laying siege to Mount Everest in 1963. He was part of a team comprising over 400 people, 362 being porters, 20 Sherpa guides and a staggering 4500 kilograms of equipment.
We were due to depart the following day by bus to a ski field called Penitentes, which was to be our staging area, 180 kilometres west of Mendoza. After dinner we all retired to our rooms early and I made a final gear check before packing everything away and getting to bed. I slept well and after a quick breakfast at the hotel and some very strong coffee we all loaded into the bus and weaved our way through the narrow streets and onto the road heading west. The countryside around Mendoza is endless wineries with some cattle paddocks dotted throughout the orchards. As we travelled further away from the city and into the low-lying mountain ranges it transformed into grassy fields and cattle grazing farms. Argentina is the third biggest exporter of beef outside of Brazil and Australia with Argentinians eating on average 60 kilograms of beef per person each year.
One Life One Chance Page 9
