Will to Live: Dispatches from the Edge of Survival

by Les Stroud

  Yossi certainly isn’t the first person to be guilty of this mistake. Many would-be adventurers consider planning and preparation to be an annoying waste of time, and one that only serves to get in the way of “fun.” A carefree attitude may be fun in some circumstances, but the Amazon jungle is not the place to play it by ear. The experienced traveler knows that you can be prepared and still have fun and adventure. Had Yossi and his newly found friends recognized this, perhaps tragedy might not have occurred.

  With a few free days before he headed into the jungle, Yossi set about informing people of his plans. He left a note with the Israeli embassy, sent a message to a local friend’s family, and mailed a lengthy letter to his brother Moishele in Israel, detailing what little he knew about the upcoming adventure.

  It was the right thing to do. Telling three people of your plans is the best way to make sure someone will take notice if you don’t return. Most travelers, even the most thoughtful ones, tell only one person. This can be adequate, if that person is very close to you and is responsible. Otherwise, it makes sense to tell as many people as possible. But above all, the best strategy is to establish a firm drop-dead date for your return. If you have not gotten in touch with your contacts by this date, they must take swift and decisive action (of a sort that you and they have clearly predetermined) and either come looking for you or send out a search team.

  Yossi left many of his belongings behind in La Paz, including his wristwatch. Again, his motivation was pure, as he thought he’d have no need to keep track of time or schedules in the jungle, but ultimately, it was a bad move. Yossi didn’t count on being in a survival situation, where he could have used the watch to determine travel time, or even use it as a survival tool, but there was no practical reason for him to leave it behind.

  The four men boarded a flight over the Andes to the village of Apolo, where their trek would begin. Karl’s plan was to hike from Apolo to the neighboring village of Asriamas, then through the jungle to their final destination, the village of Riberalta.

  It wasn’t long before Karl got the chance to demonstrate his expertise. Their first night out of Apolo, he impressed his compadres by improvising a shelter from bamboo and nylon sheeting (even though they had a tent) and carpeting it with a bed of leaves. Karl clearly knew how to handle himself in the jungle, but he was no leader. He was a ruffian and a drifter, one whose inability to keep the group focused on a collective goal would ultimately contribute to the trip’s descent into discord and failure.

  Nevertheless, their first days proved idyllic, largely because they were still within the confines of civilization. They hiked from ranch to ranch, enjoying the hospitality of locals who housed them, fed them, and treated them as honored guests. During one such stop, Karl insisted on buying an emaciated dog, which he said would protect them from jaguars once they got deeper into the jungle. The dog proved to be much more of a burden than it was worth and ultimately ran away. Karl’s nearly neurotic insistence on buying the dog, despite his friends’ protests, should have been another red flag for Yossi.

  The first cracks in the group dynamic began to develop shortly thereafter. One morning, Karl rushed along a jungle path with Flaca (“Skinny”) the dog, leaving the others behind. Yossi, Kevin, and Marcus soon came upon a fork in the trail, and only by luck picked the path that eventually brought them to the spot where Karl and Flaca were resting.

  This was another Karl red flag. He was the one who knew the territory, he was the guide, and he should have known enough to wait at every junction for those trailing behind. When you’re traveling in a group in the wilderness, you always need to assign a lead person and a tail person. The lead person is responsible for stopping at all forks in the trail, while the tail person ensures that nobody gets left behind and that the rate of travel is comfortable for the slowest person. In addition, all of the members of the group should always be either in sight, or, at the very least, within earshot of one another. Karl ignored this basic rule of group wilderness travel.

  Four days after setting out from Apolo, the group arrived at the village of Asriamas, on the banks of the Tuichi River. There they had the opportunity to eat, rest, and replenish their dwindling food stores. Karl’s plan was to follow the nearby Asriamas River upstream for a few days, then cross a range of mountains to the Cocus River. They would descend the Cocus and continue crossing mountains until they came to the Colorado-Chico River, which would then lead them to the authentic “Indian village” and the gold they sought. An ambitious plan!

  With full bellies and backpacks, the four set out from Asriamas. The going was difficult from the start, and Yossi soon began to worry about the amount of food they had. Trusting your instincts is everything in survival, and Yossi was beginning to experience this instinctual characteristic of a true survivor, though he didn’t know it. Karl had assured them there would be loads of game to hunt along the way, though. The jungle, he promised, was practically bursting with animals they could hunt with the rifle they brought along from La Paz.

  For several days, they fell into a comfortable routine. Karl would wake before everyone else and prepare breakfast. He never asked for help and never chided the others for lying in bed while he worked. Then again, he was a loner, and likely preferred his time alone. The group had come to rely on Karl so much that they started calling him “Poppa.”

  And while things seemed relatively safe at this point in the journey, the cracks in the group dynamic that had begun to form before Asriamas began to rear their ugly heads again. Karl and Marcus began spending most of their time together; Kevin and Yossi did the same. Yossi was smart enough to broach the changing group dynamic with his good friend Marcus, but in the end they walked away without having resolved anything.

  Never underestimate the powerful negative effect that group dynamics can have on a survival situation. Bad ones have been the cause of hundreds of emergencies. Once tempers flare and emotions rule the day, tactical reason and intelligent travel perspectives get thrown out the window. Of course, nobody wants to see their travel mates come to ill fate, but if emotion begins to take the place of reason, then stupid moves are made that can put other people’s lives in jeopardy. Therefore, it’s vital that groups in remote wilderness situations keep things running smoothly and that they clear the air during the trip rather than staying quiet and letting things reach the boiling point. After all, that boiling point may be hit in the middle of a dangerous set of rapids—clearly, no place to lose focus by yelling at your partner.

  At the headwaters of the Tuichi, Karl led the group on the climb that would take them over the mountains to the Cocus. Their poor excuse for a map confirmed little of this, but the group again put its collective faith in Karl. Of the many mistakes Yossi and his new friends made in going on the trip, failing to familiarize themselves with Karl’s map was one of the biggest. The map was not particularly detailed—they couldn’t find anything better in La Paz before they left—but, at the very least, each person should have spent some time studying it, to get a feel for the terrain.

  Nobody should venture into the wild without basic map-reading skills. And if your guide is the only person in your group to have a map, don’t be shy: ask to see the map as often as possible, familiarize yourself with the area and the route you are traveling. It can also be helpful to use a global positioning system (GPS) device, which uses satellites to display your location anywhere on the planet. Satellite messenger devices such as the spot, which use one-way text messaging and e-mail to inform your contacts of your location and progress, can save your life when things go wrong.

  For what it’s worth, Karl knew his way around the jungle. He taught the others how to collect water from the bamboo shoots that grew in abundance in the area; he seemed to know the geography of the area like the back of his hand; and when he shot a monkey from the treetops, he expertly built a domed structure in which to smoke the meat. Yet Karl’s greatest flaw as a leader was that he taught the others very little about route-findin
g. Similarly, the boys didn’t seem interested in learning where they had come from, or how to find their way back should something go wrong.

  If the others had been smart, they would have made detailed mental notes of the trails they had been on and the ranches they had passed, the time between locations, direction, and landmarks. But this kind of meticulous attention to detail is difficult to maintain, especially when you’re with a few buddies and the experience is about the adventure. Noting your surroundings is not a difficult thing to do; you just have to set your mind to it.

  When I was hunting tapir in the Amazon with the native Waorani people of eastern Ecuador, I made sure to keep detailed mental records of where we had been and how I would get back to the village if need be. I knew that anything could happen out there, and it might have been me who had to run back for help. So I played something like a reconnaissance map in my head: “Okay, I came about fifteen minutes and then turned left. Another hour and turned right. Past the waterfalls, then past the cave, then turned right again.” I knew if I replayed that in reverse in my head, I could make my way back, even by myself. I wouldn’t have expected Yossi, Kevin, and Marcus to do the same, but they should have at least tried to remember how to get back to the last populated village.

  As Karl predicted, the journey over the mountains brought them to the banks of the Cocus River. Karl wanted to follow the river, then cross the mountains back over to the Colorado-Chico, where they could pan for gold. Although the other members of the group started to doubt the route at this point, there was little chance that Karl’s mind could be changed. He was operating on sheer determination and probably figured he was quite right about things.

  When this happens to the leader, the other members of the group usually put their heads down and follow along, danger signs be damned. It’s a classic Pied Piper scenario. But what Karl didn’t do was devise a backup plan. He seemed to have no idea what he would do if the group ran into trouble, and this played a huge role in the ultimate downfall of the trip. Planning a trip is one thing, but you should always do it with an eye toward survival, especially since the most common cause of death in the wilderness is unpreparedness.

  It was also around this time that the group’s collective hunger became much more acute, even though they were less than a week out of Asriamas and had been lucky enough to bag some wild game en route, including a goose, a monkey, and a sloth. Nevertheless, their reliance on hunting as their primary source of food was a huge mistake. It’s one thing for a traveler to depend on hunting when there’s only one mouth to feed. But looking after four grown men is another story.

  It’s a common mistake. Accomplished hunters who have successfully provided for themselves while alone in the bush often underestimate what it takes to feed a larger group. A sloth is a lot of meat for one man and can last a long time. Add three other adult men, and it’s barely a couple of meals.

  With their stores of food rapidly dwindling, their gear disintegrating, their feet beginning to rot from being constantly wet, and the route ahead unclear, the group could not face the prospect of another grueling climb over the mountains. They decided to return to Asriamas, where they could restock their supplies and alter their plan. (In my mind, the change should have included getting out of the jungle—and away from Karl.) Once there, they discussed new options. Although Marcus wanted to return to La Paz, the decision was ultimately made to stay in Asriamas and build a raft, then float down the Tuichi River to a town called Rurrenabaque.

  The week-long stay in Asriamas was good for their health. Marcus, who had developed a bad case of trench foot, healed to the point that he felt able to go along with the others rather than return to La Paz. But while their physical health may have improved in Asriamas, the respite did nothing to improve group dynamics, which continued to deteriorate. By the time they set off down the Tuichi, they had separated into two factions: Kevin and Yossi; Karl and Marcus.

  The decision to raft down the river was a critical one in the evolution of the journey. But despite its importance, the group didn’t seem to spend much mental energy discussing it—or its potential dangers. I suspect that by that point they were all tired and wanted to get home—a dangerous mindset to be in when you are taking on the jungle—and floating down the river seemed like a much friendlier option than hiking back to Apolo. It was an understandable position, but it set in motion the wheels of impending peril.

  The group’s apparent inability to anticipate the danger of the river was no doubt exacerbated by the fact that its members were no longer getting along. This may explain why they never took the time to devise a plan should things go wrong and they get separated in the vastness of the Amazon. This small gesture—anticipating the worst-case scenario and preparing for it—is almost always overlooked in situations such as these. What do we do if we get separated? Where will we meet? And when? I have seen situations where discussions like these have even annoyed careless and impatient people, but the fact is that they can save lives. Yossi and his mates never had such a discussion, and they paid the ultimate price.

  With the raft construction complete, the group was again ready to set out. They had ten pounds of rice, eight pounds of dried beans, a bunch of plantains, some vegetables, and spices. For some inexplicable reason, Karl—who had been appointed to care for the group’s finances—traded off most of their survival gear during their second stay in Asriamas. He gave away almost all of their fishing line, all but three fishing hooks, and nine of the ten lighters they had when they arrived in the village, leaving only one (and half-full at that!) for the remainder of the journey. This did not seem to deter anyone, though, as they set off down the Tuichi for the last time as a group of four.

  If anyone in the group had any nagging concerns about their lack of preparation for what lay ahead, this was certainly the appropriate time to adamantly voice their opinion and insist on beefing up their survival supplies. Nobody did, and it was only a matter of minutes before they realized they were woefully ill equipped for what lay ahead. The river’s personality changed from placid to frenzied with a single bend in the shoreline, and the raft bashed from rock to rock before the four travelers were able to get to shore and regroup. They practiced a little after setting out again, and seemed to hit a comfortable rhythm, a sensation aided by the fact that they happened to be in the midst of a particularly calm section of the river once again. They pulled to shore for the evening at the top of a tumultuous section known as Eslabon Pass.

  Here, Karl did the right thing (though perhaps motivated by his own self-preservation) by insisting that they portage around the pass, after which they would again take to the river. The other three were anxious to get going, though, and chose to ignore his warnings. While Karl was out hunting, Yossi and Kevin boarded the raft to take it through the pass; Marcus grudgingly joined them. The three somehow made it through the pass alive, though they lost all their oars and poles en route. Luckily, Kevin was strong enough to jump into the water and pull the raft to shore, with Yossi and Marcus still on it. They hiked back through the jungle, gathered up Karl and the rest of their gear, and returned to the raft.

  The next few days followed a similar pattern: idyllic and calm, turbulent and frantic. Yet things changed forever when they approached a notorious section of the river known as Mal Paso San Pedro, a rock canyon that ends in a precipitous waterfall. Here, Karl suddenly decided he was going no farther down the river, and would instead spend a few days walking to a village he thought to be in the vicinity, where he would rent donkeys to take him back to Apolo. Marcus agreed to go with him, while Yossi and Kevin decided to take the raft through the Mal Paso San Pedro and down the river. It may seem like a foolish decision, but it was no more risky than Karl’s alternative. In fact, I think Karl and Marcus should have pressed on with Yossi and Kevin, which might have seen them all make it to safety. But the group dynamic had deteriorated so much by that point that it was almost fated that they would go their separate ways in pairs.

&nb
sp; With the decision made to split up, the next order of business was to divide their survival gear. Land-bound Karl and Marcus took the rifle, giving the fishing gear and most of the nonperishable food to Kevin and Yossi. The machete went to Kevin and Yossi; Karl and Marcus got the tent. Early the next morning, they bade farewell to one another. It would be the last time Yossi ever saw Karl or Marcus.

  Kevin and Yossi set off down the Tuichi on their raft, with a smaller life raft tied on top in case of emergency. Things went wrong immediately; as the river narrowed and the banks rose from gentle beaches to rock walls, the raft became pinned up against a rock at the entrance to the Mal Paso San Pedro. As water rushed furiously all around, Kevin decided to swim for shore, where he would throw Yossi a vine and pull him to safety. Yet as soon as Kevin dove into the water, the weight of the raft shifted and it came loose from the rock. Yossi hurtled down the river and into the Mal Paso San Pedro by himself. For what seemed like an eternity, he careened from rock to rock, until he was finally thrown over the falls and into the torrent of the river. He somehow managed to survive the drop uninjured, and miraculously found the raft floating not far away. When he swam to it, though, he was shocked to find that the little life raft—which had all the food and survival gear strapped to it in what Yossi called a “lifepack”—had become dislodged and was lost. He was now well separated from Kevin and alone in the Amazon, without a backup plan in place.

  Yossi saw the lifepack raft trapped between some rocks on the far shore and made an attempt to retrieve it, but the current was too strong. So he did the right thing by improvising a shelter for himself and deciding to wait until the following day to try to rescue the raft. He fed himself that evening by uprooting a palmetto tree and eating the palm heart, as Karl had taught him. He had paid attention, and it served him well.