Will was not doing very well. The altitude sickness was hitting him hard.
Every so often I would wake Will and check on him. Around midnight I tried to wake Will again and he stopped responding. He was breathing very shallow breaths, he would open his eyes, but he would not move or answer any questions. Joe and I gave him a shake, loudly asked for responses, but nothing. It was bad. Really bad. We had to get him down the mountain quickly. We could not go back because we had already passed through the border. The only option was to go forward.
Joe and I jumped out of the car and walked the river—the FREEZING (literally) COLD RIVER—barefoot. The flow had reduced significantly and there were gravel-bars showing between the one side and the other, but it was still deep and flowing swiftly. Down the river still looked too difficult. If we wait, Will could potentially get brain damage. If we go for it, we could be stuck in the river, or worse, be swept down the river. We decided we had to just go for it. It was worth the risk for Will’s health. With frozen feet, we got back in the car and decided to just floor it.
Down the bank we went, splashed into the river, and wow, we successfully crossed. But poor Betty is bad with hills in the best of circumstances. Fully loaded and at high altitudes, the poor girl could not get up the six foot rise on the other side. We slid back to the water.
So I put it in reverse, backed across the river, and tried again. And again. And again. Joe and I went into emergency mode. We took knives and cut the straps holding all the weight on the roof, tossing the tires, fuel, everything onto the bank. I reached into the back and threw the huge container of drinking water into the rushing river, watching it flow off. We got the car as light as we could, even getting Will to stand outside. But nothing.
After about our eighth attempt (getting closer to the top every time), when we slid back into the river we hit a soft spot. That was it. We were stuck in the middle of the fast-flowing river of ice. And to make things worse, we began to take on water. The floorboards quickly filled with ice water. Joe and I tried to bail out the water, but it was flowing in faster than we could scoop it out.
We were left with no other choice than to sit in the middle of the flowing river and wait. So wait we did. It was about midnight and we had no idea when the next person would be by. Will was going in and out of responsiveness and the car was taking on water. Was this the time for the 911 button on the SPOT to be pushed? It was just after midnight, so the wait was going to be long if we just sat there. But the next town was hours away and by the time SPOT organized a rescue team that would be hours as well. As good of an option as the 911 seemed, we felt the response time would be longer than if we just waited for sun-up. So we waited. And waited. And waited.
We left the car running the entire time, both for warmth inside the car and to keep the engine from freezing in the river making it impossible to start when rescue did arrive. Joe sat in the front-right (less water on the floorboard), I sat in the back center, just past the deepest water, and Will sat back right. I tried to keep Will alert, but it was nearly impossible, so I resorted to just reminding him to breathe deeply.
