B.C. climber Emilie Pellerin on her climbing accident deep in the Cascade Mountains—and the iPhone SOS slider that led to her heli rescue. Words :: Ned Morgan // photos :: Emilie Pellerin.
A late-summer storm was brewing over Mount Slesse.
Aware of the forecast, the two climbers planned to pack up later that afternoon. Quebec-born, B.C.-based Emilie Pellerin and German Ines Papert were nine pitches into the 487-metre Crouching Tiger (5.12b) on the Chinese Puzzle Wall in the Cascade Range of southwestern B.C. “Our plan for that week was to go on a bit of a recon mission to clean and work on sections of the route,” says Pellerin. “I was stoked because I had sent all the pitches, so we were like, ‘Okay, we might actually put up a new route next time instead of working on this one.’
According to Pellerin, the climbing here was “not easy and not super clean either.” The six-hour hike from the trailhead was also extremely rough and the climbers had started late. “We got a bit lost hiking in the dark,” says Pellerin, “and I can only assume we want the title of the ‘longest known ascent’ of this hike—we had to tie in and climb at one point. I’m pretty confident we put up a new route on the way.”
Eventually, the pair had made camp near the base of Chinese Puzzle Wall and continued the next day, with Pellerin taking most of the leads. “I was feeling super good. I had onsighted every single pitch of Crouching Tiger so far. It was getting towards the end of the day, and our last weather update was that a storm was rolling in that night but it seemed to be delayed. You could feel the humidity and the wind picking up, but it was still good weather. And we had just two pitches to go on the route—two of the easier ones.”
A little after 6 p.m., Pellerin was leading when she encountered a questionable traversing crack/flake section. After spending 10 tricky minutes trying to unsuccessfully wiggle a good piece in, she got lured to what appeared to be a vertical crack, a few more metres to the left. She placed two body-weight pieces and climbed a bouldery section, to find nothing but a closed seam. Realizing she was off-route, Pellerin weighed her options, aware that the last two pieces she had placed were unlikely to hold a fall. Then she downclimbed to her last piece and asked Papert for a take.
Suddenly the rock exploded, popping two cams and slingshotting Pellerin down into the dihedral—a 10-metre fall.
She later learned she’d broken her right heel into four main pieces, “with about 30 tiny pieces like porridge in the middle of the bone.” She’d also bruised her hip and arm badly. Through the fog of pain, she understood two things: her right foot was now useless, and descending was the only option. “If I freak out right now, thinking about the next few months with no climbing, we might not be able to get down.”
Getting down was a problem. Dusk was imminent and the climbers’ headlamps were not as bright as they had hoped. “I tried to keep my focus on the present moment and not show any signs of pain to Ines [Papert]. I was just keeping it to myself and breathing through it. I knew I had to keep my spirits up for getting down, no matter how much this would suck later.”
Another immediate problem was the climbers were off the rapp line and needed to make several maneuvers to get there; with Pellerin in constant pain (her foot hastily bolstered with a length of cardboard from a chocolate bar wrapper and bandaged in climbing tape), every move was incremental and fraught with uncertainty.
“I knew I had to keep my spirits up for getting down, no matter how much this would suck later.”
Pellerin’s left leg did all the work while her right knee served to bump her awkwardly along the rock. Any time her injured foot touched the wall, her pain quadrupled. Below, Papert worked painstakingly in the dark to find a safe line.
“We had to do some pretty tricky shenanigans to get down,” says Pellerin, typically understating both the pain endured and the courage required.
The pair had finished their water at about 3:30 pm and after midnight when they finally reached the base, they were desperately thirsty. (Up on the rock, Pellerin had almost vomited while forcing an Ibuprofen down her dry throat.) In yet another stroke of rough luck, there was no water source nearby and Papert spent an hour hiking in the dark to fill a bottle from a stream reduced to a trickle after a dry summer.
“We had to do some pretty tricky shenanigans to get down,” says Pellerin, typically understating both the pain endured and the courage required.
“Pain was kicking back pretty bad at that point,” says Pellerin. “I think I aggravated it by pushing on it a little bit on the rappels.”
At the campsite, she tried to call 911 but neither her phone nor Papert’s had a cellular signal. (Though both had planned to, neither climber brought a GPS tracking device.) But just after Pellerin dialed 911, the SOS Emergency Call slider popped up on her iPhone 14.
DO YOU NEED HELP? it asked. YES I DO, replied Pellerin.
After answering several questions about her condition, Pellerin wasn’t sure if a human was at the other end until a message appeared from Apple’s Emergency Satellite support team asking for her emergency contact and the message she wanted to relay, in 40 characters. She gave Apple the number of her partner Ian Middleton in Squamish and the message: “Call SAR broken ankle 6hour hike Slesse.”
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Then she waited. “I didn’t know if anything had been transmitted. I didn’t have any feedback.” From its California call centre, Apple could not (probably for legal reasons) contact the local search and rescue (SAR)—her emergency contact needed to do that. So Pellerin had to trust that Apple had relayed her message to Middleton and he had received it. When she asked the Apple responder if they could contact SAR, the return message was generic: “The appropriate emergency services have been contacted. An ambulance is on its way.” She had already told them that the nearest road access was a rough half-day trek. There was no world in which paramedics would make that haul.
Feeling helpless, Pellerin dozed a bit between text messages after swallowing the last of her Ibuprofen and a half Tylenol 3. The wind was rising and with it the climbers’ anxiety levels at the prospect of the storm rolling in and postponing any rescue. Papert offered to help Pellerin walk out but this seemed futile. “The hike was six hours on two good feet,” Pellerin adds.
Finally, around 8 am, the sound of helicopter rotors cut through the exhausted climbers’ torpor. Ian Middleton had received the SOS from Apple and coordinated with Chilliwack SAR. Almost ten hours after the initial message, the chopper flew over the frantically waving climbers—and then left, prompting Papert to cry out, “Oh my God they’re leaving! What are they doing?” Pellerin assured her they would return and in the meantime, the pair packed up tent and gear. Half an hour later the chopper airlifted the injured climber with a rescue long line.
Pellerin’s broken ankle did not require surgery, and healed remarkably well after a series of casts reset the “bone porridge”; when we spoke in January, she was on a climbing trip in Mexico, but proceeding with abundant caution. “I can’t really take a fall. My foot gets a little bit sore after a big day of climbing or if I hike too much, but that’s pretty much it. I’m lucky considering it was supposed to be no-weight-bearing for 12 weeks at first.”
Since the rescue, Apple staff have reached out to Pellerin on multiple occasions for her feedback. “They were a hundred percent into making that system better. They hadn’t really had any feedback before, so they were stoked on having a bit more to work with.”
Pellerin points out that the iPhone’s SOS Satellite Emergency service is no replacement for an inReach or another satellite communicator. (ZOLEO reached out to Pellerin after reading about the incident and gifted her a device and subscription.) While it clearly works, the iPhone service acts as a third party, relaying one barebones message to one emergency contact. However, Apple staff mentioned to Pellerin that if Ian Middleton had owned an iPhone, he would have seen all her messages in real time. But he had an Android…
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How satellite connection works on iPhone
Satellites move rapidly, have low bandwidth, and are located hundreds of kilometres away from Earth. So, when you use a satellite connection, the experience is different than sending or receiving a message via cellular.
In ideal conditions with a direct view of the sky and the horizon, a message might take 15 seconds to send. It might take over a minute to send under trees with light or medium foliage. If you’re under heavy foliage or surrounded by other obstructions, you might not be able to connect to a satellite.
Connection times can also be impacted by your surroundings, the length of your message, and the status and availability of the satellite network.
Before you go somewhere with no cellular and Wi-Fi coverage, you should update to the latest version of iOS. Satellite features are included for free for two years with the activation of an iPhone 14, iPhone 14 Pro, iPhone 15, or iPhone 15 Pro.
How to connect to a satellite with your iPhone
Be outside with a clear view of the sky and the horizon. Be aware that trees with light foliage might slow down the connection. Dense foliage, hills or mountains, canyons, and tall structures might block the connection.
Hold your iPhone naturally in your hand. You don’t need to raise your arm or hold your phone up, but don’t put it in a pocket or backpack. If you need to turn left or right or move to avoid a blocked signal, your iPhone provides onscreen instructions.
The satellite connection can be maintained even if your phone screen is locked. Satellite connectivity might not work in places above 62° latitude, such as northern parts of Alaska. To learn how Emergency SOS via satellite works, try the demo.
