Between a Rock and a Hard Place

On Saturday, April 26, 2003, 27-year-old outdoor enthusiast Aron Ralston, the narrator, parks his car at the trailhead for Horseshoe Canyon, near Moab, Utah. He rides his mountain bike south, planning to complete a 30-mile biking and canyoneering loop. The day’s events are part of a five-day trip that Ralston took after another trip with friends was cancelled. As he bikes, Ralston recalls an earlier visit to the nearby Maze District, during which he realized “how small and brave we are, we the human race” (6), compared with nature. He reflects on the others who have passed through the remote, rugged terrain, including modern pioneers as well as ancient Indigenous peoples who left behind drawings and paintings that have endured for 5,000 years.

Nearing the entrance to Bluejohn Canyon, Ralston leaves his bike under a tree. As he descends into the canyon, he catches up to a pair of young women whom he learns are named Megan and Kristi; they live in Moab. Swapping stories, Ralston quickly befriends the two women.

A while later, the three of them stop for a break at a fork in the canyon, where Kristi and Megan plan to turn left. He turns down their invitation to go along, but the three of them plan to meet up at dusk.

Continuing down the canyon, Ralston reviews his schedule for the next few days, leading up to a planned house party with his roommates on Monday night. Using a CD player and headphones, he listens to a recording by Phish, one of his favorite bands. He takes note of the terrain’s beauty, including a sloping capstone called the Carmel Formation, as well as a layer of Navajo sandstone.

Near the midpoint of his planned route, the canyon narrows to a few feet. Shortly before three o’clock in the afternoon, after passing under an s-shaped log wedged into the canyon, Ralston pauses to take some photos. Moving forward, he passes over and under a series of boulders wedged between the walls of the canyon, known as chockstones. Arriving at a 10-foot drop-off, Ralston spots a chockstone that he decides to use as an intermediate point on his descent. After shifting his weight onto the rock, Ralston turns, hugging the rock under his belly and dangling his feet. When the rock shifts, Ralston lets go, falling to the floor below. At the same time, the rock falls, striking Ralston’s left arm in the process. Ralston pulls his left arm back, but as the rock settles, it traps his right arm against the canyon wall.

Suddenly in intense pain, Ralston swears and tries to pull his hand out, but it remains stuck. He pushes against the rock, but it barely moves. Without thinking, he takes a drink of water, consuming a third of his supply.

Ralston concludes that his right arm has nerve damage and lacks circulation. At about 3:30 pm, struggling to remain positive, he takes inventory of his supplies. Thinking of the people who might recognize his absence, he estimates that a search party could start on Wednesday at the earliest.

Ralston brainstorms three potential solutions: Dig through the rock, move the rock, or amputate his arm. Although none seems particularly plausible, he uses a blade on his multitool to chip away at the face of the rock above his arm. Frustrated at the lack of progress, Ralston tests the hardness of the surrounding sandstone by etching “Geologic Time Includes Now,” a quote by mountaineer Gerry Roach, into the canyon wall. The quote serves as a reminder of nature’s volatility. Ralston muses about how unlucky he was to become trapped in this way.

In 1987, when Ralston was 12, his family moved from Indiana to Colorado. Before the move, Ralston formed the frightening misconception that skiing, more than walking or driving, was the normal mode of transportation in Colorado, but his parents assured him otherwise. Arriving in Colorado, he joined a ski club and took to the sport.

Over the next few years, Ralston fell in love with the outdoors. During his first backpacking trip through Rocky Mountain National Park, Ralston earned the nickname “Animal” for his energetic pacing. By the time he left for college in Pennsylvania, he considered himself a native Coloradoan.

In 1994, Ralston climbed his first “fourteener” (one of Colorado’s 59 mountains of at least 14,000 feet), with his friend Jon Heinrich. While racing Jon up a demanding stretch, Ralston realized that pushing himself, though physically painful, was also satisfying. On their return, he and Jon took a dangerous detour to slide down a snow-covered slope.

Ralston worked as a raft guide during the summer of 1995. Because of heavy rains, the river was unusually dangerous, but he often took extra trips down the river with other guides for fun. On one occasion, he and another guide rafted on cheap, inflatable kids’ toys as a joke. On another, he and three friends rafted during a new moon, making navigation difficult.

After graduating from Carnegie Mellon with a degree in mechanical engineering, Ralston took a job at Intel Corporation in 1997. To celebrate his graduation, Ralston planned a massive, monthlong road trip, including visits to 10 national parks. Early on, Ralston found himself unprepared for heavy snow in Grand Teton National Park. After setting up camp, he was surprised by the appearance of a black bear. Determined to protect his food supply, Ralston hung his food bag from a tree, planning to return after finding a better spot for it. Returning to the site moments later, Ralston watched the bear retrieve his bag. By making threatening gestures, Ralston scared the bear away and reclaimed his bag, which he secured in a higher location.

After a restless night and a day’s hike, Ralston returned to find his tent in disarray; the bear had ransacked it. Packing up his belongings, Ralston hiked back to his car, closely followed by the bear. Throwing rocks to keep the bear at bay, Ralston finally returned to safety, at which point he cancelled the rest of the trip.

An hour and a half after getting trapped, Ralston continues to chip at the rock with his knife. Although he finds the process a welcome distraction, he makes little progress. Reviewing his other options, he wonders whether to cut off his arm but concludes that his knife is too dull to break through bone.

Ralston recalls his first visit to Utah in 1990. He and his family were joined by Betty Darr, whose bout with polio as a child had left her with paraplegia. Betty was one of the most positive people Ralston knew, and her attitude helped him appreciate the magnificent sites they visited, including Utah’s Bryce Canyon and Arizona’s Grand Canyon.

Taking a break around seven o’clock that evening, Ralston assesses the injuries to his left hand and thigh, which he scraped while trying to move the boulder. He accidentally drops his bike keys into a crevice. At length, he retrieves them using a stick that he controls with his toes.

Trying a new tactic, Ralston uses a nearby rock as a weight to hit the back of his knife, hoping to chip the boulder more quickly. Instead, the rock disintegrates. He resumes chipping with his knife and makes steady but minimal progress. A fragment of a song from an Austin Powers movie gets stuck in his head. Around 1:30 am, he takes a drink and plans to take another sip every 90 minutes.

To lessen the weight on his legs, Ralston puts on his climbing harness and ties together a bundle of ropes and carabiners. He tosses the bundle toward a crack between a chockstone and the canyon wall dozens of times, until it wedges into the crack around three o’clock in the morning, allowing him to relax some of his weight into the harness. Since relaxing for too long reduces circulation to his legs, he alternates between relaxing and standing at 20-minute intervals, even as he continues to chip at the rock.

At eight o’clock Sunday morning, he sees a raven flying overhead. As the sun rises, Ralston stretches his leg to warm it in a sliver of sunlight. He wonders who will be the first to notice his absence and speculates that Friday is the earliest he can hope for rescue.

In 1997, Ralston planned three new goals: climb every fourteener in Colorado; climb them again, solo, during the winter; and reach the highest point in each of the 50 states. He met Mark Van Eeckhout, who became a friend and mentor, helping him train for his climbs. At work, Ralston founded an adventure club. One notable trip involved hiking from the south rim of the Grand Canyon to the north rim and then back on two consecutive days.

Around this time, Ralston read two books by mountaineer Jon Krakauer. Into the Wild (1996) convinced Ralston that adventure is more important than bland security. Into Thin Air (1997), which details Krakauer’s participation in an ill-fated expedition to climb Mount Everest, left Ralston wanting to test himself under similar conditions.

In March 1998, Ralston set out to climb Arizona’s highest peak, Mount Humphreys, borrowing snowshoes and a guidebook from Mark. Despite a storm, Ralston reached the top, though he was nearly struck by lightning on his way down. Over the next few months, Mark taught him the basics of climbing. Under Mark’s guidance, Ralston successfully climbed Vestal Peak even after the soles of his shoes fell off on the way up.

During Thanksgiving break in 1998, Ralston and his sister, Sonja, hiked through Arizona’s Havasupai Canyon. At one point, Ralston crossed Havasu Creek and fell onto a bed of cacti, which left several spines in his thighs; it took him a week to remove them. The next day, he hiked with newfound friends Jean-Marc and Chad. At one point, he jumped into the Colorado River and was pulled into an eddy, nearly drowning; only Chad’s quick action saved him.

In December 1998, after some additional training with Mark, Ralston set out to climb Quandary Peak as his first solo winter fourteener. Despite some poor planning that left most of his food and water frozen throughout, the trip was a success.

In 1999, Ralston moved to Washington state, where he continued to climb regularly despite rainy weather, pushing himself to new levels of physical fitness. On one occasion, while climbing the glacier-laden Mount Shuksan, Ralston and a friend named Bruce were terrified when a tumbling boulder passed nearby.

After another move, this one to New Mexico, Ralston joined a search-and-rescue team that offered further training. His proximity to Colorado allowed him to continue his solo winter fourteeners project, completing 39 of 59 by the end of 2002. During a descent from Ellingwood Point, Ralston’s booted foot became temporarily stuck because of the combined pressures of snow and rock.

Throughout his experiences, Ralston came to accept physical discomfort as part of broader, deeply personal experiences; no pictures could convey the spiritual experience of being one with nature. At the same time, he recognized the severity of the risks he took in search of fun.

In spring 2002, wanting to spend more time outdoors, Ralston quit his job and moved to Aspen, Colorado.