2024.05.14 12:08 abuddahwalrus [WTB] .308 rig
2024.04.18 05:15 No_Math6278 (ENG Translation) [2/2] The Miracle of the 70 Days on the Mountains. GENTE magazine, December 1972
Pictures of the magazine shared by Marcelo Lopizzo on the Reviven Facebook group. submitted by No_Math6278 to SocietyOfTheSnow [link] [comments] This article was written before the December 28th press conference. Translation by me. Part 1 https://preview.redd.it/860i6y07v4vc1.jpg?width=828&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=086196ba6a3d5d4c97dc3c25b5920c2636437883 https://preview.redd.it/dap2m378v4vc1.jpg?width=828&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=21760af58ec7114bfb3108c89b792e2dfe74c875 THE REENCOUNTER, THE LOVE, THE LAUGHTER, THE MEMORIES ... is 5.200 meters [17.00 feet] tall. The way down was even worse because the snow was very soft and the rocks crumbled. One rock was so close to Roberto that it nearly killed him. The pace became slower and slower. We were hungry and cold. In the end, we were walking two steps and resting, two steps and resting... We crossed a valley and we found the source of a river. That gave us some hope. We decided to go farther West. We guided ourselves with the plane's compass, which fortunately had been left intact. Roberto got sick on the stomach and I had to carry his backpack because he didn't have any strenght to do it himself. On December 20th at sunset, we saw some cows. That was our first solid hope. 'If there's cows, men have to be near' we thought. I told Roberto that we had to kill a cow to eat, otherwise we wouldn't be able to set any steps farther. 'With what?'' - he asked - 'With this little pocket knife?' We kept going, When the sun was setting, Roberto shouted. He had seen the arriero. He was very far, in the shadowsm almost covered up by some trees, but he was able to see us. We shouted, made some desperate signal. He got close to the river bank and told us: 'Tomorrow, tomorrow'. That night we slept there, next to the river, to keep our location. The next day, he came back and threw us paper and a pen wrapped in a rock. I wrote as fast as I could: 'I come from a plane that fell in the mountains. I am Uruguayan. We have been walking for 10 days. I have a hurt friend up there. In the plane remain 14 injured people. We have to get out of here fast and we don't know how, We don't have food. We are weak. When are they coming to rescue us up there? Please, we can't even walk. Where are we?'. I wrapped the paper on the rock and I threw it to him, from one riverbank to the other, He read it and he threw us three sandwiches that did us good. Then he went to alert the Puente Negro police and came back. He helped us cross [the river], took us to a ranch and made [someone] serve us a bean stew, cheese and bread, we couldn't believe it. Throughout all that time, our obsession had been food, We reunited inside the plane, and made a list of planes and special dishes. I wrote down 63 places in Montevideo where you can eat specialties, That is how we spent time. It was more prefrerable than adressing deep topics or talking about death... The next day, the helicopters started arriving with my rescued comrades. When [I] started the expedition, I had taken a token, a sneaker that I bought in Mendoza for Gastón, the son of a brother-in-law of mine. I left the other one with Carlitos and told him: 'You are giving it back to me when we see each other again. Because I assure you that I am going to find help and I am going to take you [all] out of here'. And, indeed. When the helicopter rescued him, the first thing he did was giving me the sneaker...' ACCOUNT BY CARLOS PÁEZ RODRÍGUEZ "I once had an accident. It was in Uruguay, in the Pinamar circuit, with a car that [belonged to] Roy Harley's grandmother. We entered a curve and we flipped. I broke an arm. And I thought that I had lived a great adventure, that I had been close to death. Today, now, that makes me laugh. I think it's [little] boys' foolishness. I feel like I grew up, that I am 20 years older. When something like this happens, you realize that there are many things that don't matter. I was a [typical] rich kid. I was worried about cars, clothesm frivolous things. Now I know that the only important [thing] is God, faith, comradership, solidarity. Suddenly, we had to stock on medicines, had to gather heat with each other to survive, had to distribute the little we had for eating. So we started feeling [like] brothers and giving [each other] things. Death used to me something almost unknown. And, suddently, we had to look at it in the eyes everyday, We had to see it get to many of our comrades, without being able to do anything. Some laid down inside the plane, closed their eyes to sleep, and didn't wake up.
https://preview.redd.it/g2eiyf8t45vc1.jpg?width=828&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=497e20c9d9623dd166509e08eb6f009fb0a0351e THE FIRST MASS, IN THE CHAPEL OF SAN FERNANDO All of that made us truly feel like brothers. I think that we are something like 16 apostotles. There, there was no boss other than each one's capability of doing things. I, for example, was the plane's official wall repairer. I was left with the thoughest job, make a wall on the entrance at night, before sleeping. But we also had the medic, that was Canessa. And the invertar, which was Fito Strauch. Fito invented the sunglasses and the shoes for walking on the snow. Soon, we realized that the sun and its reflection on the snow would leave us blind, So Fito cut with a pocket knife some pieces of dark plastic that was in some notebooks, put them together with copper wire and tied them with some elastics that he took from some women's garments he found in the suitcases. That way, we all had [sun]glasses, Later, with the seats of the plane, he made some kind of boots that helped us walk on the soft snow without sinking. When our skin started peeling because of the sun, he made us some "nose protectors" from cloth, In the 70 days we were there, there were three birthdays. October 30th was Numa Turcatti's, the 31st was mine, and November 1st was Alfredo Delgado's. But we barely noticed. The calendar-clocks only served to count the days we were in the mountain and to calculate how much longer we could endure. The idea of praying sprung up on its own. But, if among us there was someone without faith, I assure you that that little faith multiplied by a thounsand, by a million, by infinite. We were all sure we would survive. It's weird, but the longer time went by, and the further the hopes of us getting saved were, we were more sure we wouldn't die, And we wouldn't allow anyone to give up. Some days ago, while I sewed a sleeping bag, Canessa said to me: "Carlitos... don't you see it differently this time, don't you think...?" I screamed at him no. I shouted at him saying that we were going to spend Christmas together, far away from this hell. And I wasn't wrong." ... the chapel, separated from the hospital by a patiom is full of amazed and silent people. A girl in overalls gets close to each one of the boys and puts in their neck a blue ribbon, a medal of the miracle. Behind the first benches, there are the parents, the siblings, the girlfriends of those boys. There are few words. They look at each other and that is enough. They squeeze each other's hands and that is enough. Outside, in the patio, under a 30 degree [86°F] sun, there are barefoot men and women who have stopped their noon routine, have looked for some withe paper (an old car, the reverse of the envelope of an already read card), have asked for a pen with barely a look -- there are many reporters and many pens -- and they have stayed by the door of the chapel so that all or some of those boys write some words or scribble a signature. Of course. The announcers have said miracle, and the newspapers have written miracle, and the word miracle has travelled Santiago and San Fernando and Colchagua and Los Maitenes. Plus, tomorrow is going to be Christmas Eve, and the day past, Christmas. Miracle. But Fernando Parrado Dolgay, 23 years old, floats in his pants. And Gustavo Zerbino's lips are charred. And Javier Methol hasn't yet come out of the hospital. José Luis Inicarte drinks an infinite ammount of fruit juice, because his stomach can't open up to anything more. And a Chilean psychiatrist says in four or five reports that the 16 will inevitably suffer from survivor's guilt, an emotional imbalance that haunts people who have gone through an extreme situation. Miracle. But they leave San Fernando, arrive to Santiago, stay on the best rooms of the Sheraton, they become, or others [force them to become] stars, and yet, when the moment's interview or the hugs end, Roy Harley, or Daniel Fernández Strauch or Roberto Canessa, become like shadows again. They are left alone, they look at the mountains that timidly start behind the hotel and it's like they are having a secret dialogue with their ghosts. Miracle?
https://preview.redd.it/2j20yb6kc5vc1.jpg?width=828&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=a6b674750515f80ae95247e43f6817c2888b91a1 THE MOST BEAUTIFUL CHRISTMAS IN THE WORLD From left to right: Gustavo Zerbino, Antonio Vizentín Brandi (hidden in the picture), José Luis Inciarte Vasques, Fernando Parrado Dolgay, Carlos Miguel Páez Rodríguez, Eduardo Strauch Urioste, Ramón Sabella, José Pedro Algorta Durán and Francisco Delgado. With them, parents, siblings, girlfriends[fiancées]. All the clocks of Santiago de Chile have just hit 12. The survivors of the mountain drama toast, sing and laugh in one of the halls of the Sheraton hotel. They are welcoming a Christmas that could have been the saddest, and became the most beautiful one in the world. After the toast, Páez Rodríguez said "It was a miracle, a miracle by God." Yes. But it also was an epic of courage, of youth, of will to live. Against everything, and despite everything. GENTE was with them, and also raised their glass. MAN AGAINST AN EXTREME SITUATION Today, two days after the encounter, people talk. "Did you see that thing...","Did you hear about that other one...", "Could you imagine...". And I, a bit coldly, can imagine everything, think about everything. But everything is too little. One has read the tales of castaways. One has read the terrible chronicles from wars. One has once flown in a plane that shook in the air and next to them there was someone praying. One once lost a loved one or saw in front of their eyes how a car lifted an unaware pedestrian into the air. One has read books about concentration camps. But what none of us can never read or imagine was this awesome 70-day adventure in the mountains. Over a meter [3 feet] of snow. Under a blanket of clouds, rain, snow. Without anything. Everything white, white. White is the blinding reflection. White are the raus that burn skin and lips. White is the snow that the sun will turn into water without salt, in water that can't even quench thirst. There, 16 boys who didn't even know where they were on earth, with an average temperature of 10 degrees below zero [14°F], lived a torment that would end after 70 days. There, in a space barely above 10 square meters [107 square feet], they had to define their future, decide on actions, desperatem fight, find distractions, hope, smile, cry, go mad for the rescue that wouldn't come anymore. There, everything must have happened. Urged by hunger, loneliness, pain, the terrible pain that is caused by never ending cold and that has nothing to be prevented with. Not even the minimal proteins to withstand some hours in the outdoors. That way, 16 boys, well prepared, educated, physically suited thanks to a good sport life, healthy, had to go against what, in this moment, from an air-conditioned office, we are calling an "extreme situation". No one, absolutely no one can talk about these boys and do it [using] the normal parameters. Even for us, it wasn't a regular note. When we were going to Chile, we commented that rarely one can stumble upon a periodistic note with so many pointsm si many novelesque elements, dramatic, joyful, huge. One of those few times was precisely this one, And, when we met face to face to any of the boys, we thought that man is raised to live some way, is raised to be this or that thing, but is never logically raised for a similar situation. And a happening like this, what does it produce? it generates a new situation, completely original and unique. And of the condition of intelligent beings is precisely adapting to those new situations. AND SURVIVE. When we talked with Parrado about survival in the mountains, he said: -- All of us are university students. We can analize this survival thing from any level and accept responsibility for it. Of course we worry about the thoughts of the people. But is it that everyone can be our judge...? We are before 16 healthy and smart boys. Full of life, tough, sportsmen, We are before 16 boys that went through the most incredible of adventures and that saved themselves by the fact that they together did what had to be done in those cases. Be solidary and and stand strictly by all for one and one for all. Of those 16, two came close to suicide when moved by desperation they tried, no less and no more, getting out of the mountains with only rugby shoes. They did it for the other 14 and for themselves. Canessa and Parrado arrived and saved the others. But for the rest and for them, none was a hero. They were all one. And all of them cried for the friends that were left in the snow, For the relatives that were left in the snow. For everything they were forced to leave behind in the snow. The freshness of an splendid youth, the goodbye to the innocence of being 20. Also, there in the mountains, remains buried the myth that you can't live there for more than a week. There too remains the myth of stopping the search after mere 10 days. We know - we know - that there is a secret report by the Andine Rescue Team that was in charge of the rescue. We talked about it with some of the boys. Later, when all of this has calmed down, when the survivors aren't that anymore, but instead are again boys like all the rest mixed in the Uruguayan streets, we'll come back to it. But, before talking about that, let's think about the "extreme situation". And that in that, man has to adapt to situations for which nobody prepared him for. Some of the survivors are with a great mystical "attack". All of them talk about God as if [He were] a brother, like an everyday hand they held onto every day to keep living. All of them have their amulet. All of them have their own ritual. For now, everything is an anecdote. In some more days, when the anecdote is buried, we will talk again about what a 20 year-old boy feels before an extreme situation, for which the parameters of us who only feel hunger when the refrigerator is empty, don't have any validity. We are saying this very seriously. The A.P. cable is in front of ours. Officially, the man in charge of the Uruguayan business in Chile confirmed that the survivors had eaten human meat. We made a pact with Parrado, and we stand by it. No reports, nor leaks. We will only talk about the matter face to face. |
2024.04.17 19:31 FeelsKindOfBadMan Gen1es APRIL 2024 schedule
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2024.04.17 06:10 No_Math6278 (ENG TRANS) [1/2]The Miracle of the 70 days on the mountains. Gente magazine, December 1972
Pictures of the magazine shared by Marcelo Lopizzo on the Reviven Facebook group. submitted by No_Math6278 to SocietyOfTheSnow [link] [comments] This article was written before the December 28th press conference. Translation by me. Part 2 https://preview.redd.it/yw3n7kyquxuc1.jpg?width=815&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=01c56d3dcf70eaf54931fd82c602300d9cceb5ed EXTRA: The miracle of the 70 days in the mountains. Seen and lived with exclusive photographs and survivors‘ testimonies. From Chile. By our special envoys. Dramatic document. Here [is where] the protagonists of the miracle lived. https://preview.redd.it/0i8pujt9vxuc1.jpg?width=828&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=13d86da6f61022be49af101c9c24828ba919431d https://preview.redd.it/pluxf44ovxuc1.jpg?width=828&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=d48d51d8b188edf66d960df4e3ac67a245f72907 We lived the miracle of the mountains. In the Andes mountains and Santiago de Chile, “Gente” lived quite closely the [biggest] news of the year and one the most formidable human adventures that a group of men have [ever] led in an extreme situatio: the rescue of the 16 young survivors of the Uruguayan Air Force plane that fell in the mountains the last 13th of October. The protagonists, without adequate clothing, no suitable food, in a precarious refuge that they made with the remains of the apparatus, managed to defeat death. Many of their companions were left forever in the snow, but two of the members of the group, after an odyssey, managed to ask for help and save the rest. This is the story and the images. By our special envoys: Samuel Gelblung, Alfredo Serra, Enrique Blanco and Juan José Pérez. Exclusive document. Some of the protagonists of the miracle of the mountains, next to the remains of the fallen plane, [the] only shelter they had throughout their adventure. https://preview.redd.it/t2mn4gv7yxuc1.jpg?width=828&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=14e2e60444a9eddea4606da06cdb3f104005eead https://preview.redd.it/8s4cpuy8yxuc1.jpg?width=828&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=65e2ae43a88c21cfabd220700a39bfad8a9e51c9 THE SNOW’S TRAP AND THE FIRST TOAST OF THE RESCUE It’s 12 at noon, Saturday, December 23rd. The sun is red, yellow and blue in the geometrical and simple stained glass of the chapel in San Fernando, a small town with no surprises — 2.500 inhabitants— which is 140 kilometers [87 miles] south of Santiago de Chile. In the first row, seated, some with their legs covered by rustic grey blankets, there’s ten boys. All of them have long hair. All of them are very burned by the sun. Almost all of them have a beard. They all have new pants and shirts. You can tell, by the straight folds, that the pants and shirts have just been bought and displayed. They are light blue, green, pink. The priest, a young man, finishes the psalm. — To Him, glory and gratitude. To Him, glory and gratitude. He orders to sing the “Hallelujah“. The chapel, separated from the hospital by a patio, is full of amazed and silent people. ACCOUNT BY JOSÉ LUIS INCIARTE ”It was 5 minutes to 4 in the afternoon. I was reading ”Aventuras de Isidorito” [Argentinian comic], you know... The plane made a turn and [Juan Carlos] Menéndez, who later died in the avalanche, told me ‘Now it’s when it gets rough’. We were flying inside the clouds and couldn’t see anything. The seatbelt light turned on. I left the magazine and I tightened [my seatbelt] well. I think that saved me, because the ones that didn’t were sucked by the air. Suddenly, the plane fell like 2.500 feet. I heard that in the cockpit someone was saying: “Give it more power, give it more power”. [Daniel] Fernández Strauch told me he saw peaks. I crossed my arms, lowered my head and closed my eyes. Some seconds later, I felt cold, a cold wind that surrounded me. I breathed deeply. It smelled like gasoline. The plane started sliding down, as if it were a slide. The snow hit me in the face. Later, I heards screams, whimpers. I opened my eyes. There was blood and bodies everywhere. I was unharmed. I got up and got out of the plane. The first thing I saw was a huge groove, a gash on the mountain. It was the tracks the plane had left. Rocks fell on a zig-zag. They almost crushed me. I became buried to the waist when I tried to walk. The snow was soft and deep. I was wearing trousers, a dress shirt and a blue tie. The trousers and the shirt were intact, but the tie was left in shreds, as if someone had cut it many times with scissors. After some minutes, I noticed I had fallen over a body. It was the mother of the Parrado, who was dead. The ones who were still alive reunited and started helping the wounded. But there was little we could do for them. Many died there, in front of our eyes. That night we slept outside the plan, among the dead and the wounded, covering up with what we could find. With rags, with the cloth of the seats, with the clothes of the dead. We started organizing ourselves the next day. There were 28 alive, but many were badly hurt. The first thing was looking for the warmest clothes possible. We used the rugby equipment, which are made with thick cloth and everything that we could find in the suitcases and spilled on the snow. The warmest [garments] we got were the pilots’ jackets and a wool sweater with a zipper of the machinist on board, who died at 7 pm of the second day, buried by an avalanche. There was never a boss. There were never bosses. The boss was the strongest, the one in the best mood, or simply [the one who had] the best idea. The hunger started being a torture. We had chocolates, marmalade, alfajores and some wine, things we had bought in Mendoza when we stayed there. We put everything together and rationed it. But the most important thing was not dehydrating. With an axe and a few tools that were in the plane, we cut some aluminum sheets, filled them with snow and inclined them. When the sun melted the show, the water ran in the sheets and we caught it with empty wine bottles. That way we battled thirst and avoided dehydration. The days without sun, we didn’t have water. But the worst was the night[s]. We didn’t have [any] light and, at 6 pm, when the sun set, the temperature was unbearable. We got inside the plane, we blocked the entrance with the sheets and we lay next to each other to use the body heat. That way we were able to—— PICTURES (LEFT TO RIGHT)
THIS IS HOW THEY LIVED AND THIS IS HOW THEY REACHED THE END OF THE NIGHTMARE https://preview.redd.it/3wyu5h57iyuc1.jpg?width=818&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=26928162712c69b8d2b949d1a82a6c1c81e12f3f … [obtain] a temperature of 4 or 5 degrees [39-41 F]: harsh, but enough to not die frozen. We found a small radio and we adapted it with a 15 meters [49 feet] Collins antenna we found in the plane. When its batteries ran out, we made it work with the plane’s batteries. We could only listen between 7 and 9 am, because after that hour there were too much interference. Because of the radio, we knew we were being looked for by rescue planes. So that we could be seen — becau the plane didn’t have flares nor signal pistols nor anything — we were always with the pilots’ jackets inside out, because they were orange. After that, we made a huge snow cross — 100 meters [328 feet] — because someone remembered having read that that is one of the methods that the people that get lost in the snow use. But none of that worked. We saw the planes pass by, we waved rags, shouted, waved our hands, and the result was always negative. One morning we heard on the radio that the search was suspended. Officially, were dead to everyone. It was one of the worst moments. But far from giving up, we decided to get out there no matter what. Crawling, however, but we were getting out. I never thought about death, and I don’t think the others did either. What helped us the most was faith, religious faith. We knew we could only trust in God and our own strength. That we were alone in the world. So, we started praying. Carlitos Páez Rodríguez had his grandmother‘s rosary on his neck. We prayed it many times a day, and that made us feel really good. As the days went by, we learnt and we solved problems. We got fire with the plane’s fuel. We got lighters and two butane tubes, and with that we got our lighting. We discovered we had to exercise to keep in shape, so we spent many hours walking, going up and down mountains. One afternoo, we found 170 cigarett packs. In the plane there was a maker that was taking them to Chile, to give them to some colleagues, I think. It was a great party. Even if it seems like a lie, we smoked the last pack the day we were rescued. The radio was our only connection with the world, it was what made us aware that we weren’t in another planet. We learned that Nixon was elected as a president for the second time, that National was the Uruguayan champion — we had great fights with the Peñarol fans — that Perón returned to Argentina. I know that many imagine that in a similar situatio, its protagonists talk all the time about deep topics. But our case wasn’t like this. We prayed and we talked all the time about getting out of there. Get out, escape the trap, it was the leading topic. But, over everything, it was forbidden to talk about death. It was enough that one mentioned it for all of us to be left defeated. We imposed an optimism philosophy. And, when one failed — because there were a lot of crisis, lots of anguish— a slap and that’s it. We didn’t need a boss for that. The lead was taken by whoever was the most composed. The strongest. Parrado, Canessa, Strauch, Carlitos Páez, me… Carlitos Páez is a great guy. I didn’t know him a lot, wasn’t a great friend of his, and yet he took care of my leg when I got sick. Some foruncules appeared and I oppened them with a razor. It was a lot worse. I had an infection and great pain. I still haven’t completely healed. Well, when that happened, Carlitos started sleeping next to me, with my leg on top of his body, to ensure me the most comfortable position. Finally, December 22nd came. That morning we heard on El Espetacular radio [station] that “there were survivors of the lost Uruguayan plane”. But we didn’t think much of it. It was true that Parrado and Canessa had gone on an expedition looking for help, but we were really let down by fake news, different versions, etc. But on a second note,we heard the broadcaster say that an arriero had —
https://preview.redd.it/cjiqrej0lyuc1.jpg?width=828&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=2b51ad505e00500969df3242cdb94d917a834c6e THE MESSAGE THE ARRIERO READ AND THE JOY OF COMING BACK TO LIFE stumbled into two survivors of the Uruguayan plane and that their names were Parrado and Canessa. Then, yes. We started screaming, threw ourselves at each other, rolled in the snow like kids. After [that], we put on the best clothes (even if it sounds like a joke), washed ourselves with snow, comber our hair, brushed our teeth (we still had toothpaste and we always said it was our dessert) and we sat next to the plane, waiting for the rescue. The most beautiful memory of my life is the “tacatacataca” that the helicopter made, seemingly from behind the mountain. But sadly, it couldn’t make me forget Nogueira, Turcatti, Nicola, Echevarren, of all who had died by our side…” ACCOUNT BY FERNANDO PARRADO “Enrique Platero had a horrible wound in his abdomen. It opened with a metal sheet when the plane fell. His intestines hanged. We made surgery on him, stitched him with metal bits, dressed with strips of a shirt. The wound scarred. And, when he was strong, when he was starting to walk, he died burried in an avalanche on Octobef 29th. It’s a horrible story. And to think we have like a hundred of those… I still don’t know how I survived. I was on the tail of the plane. Some minutes before the accident I was talking with Panchito Abal. I saw the seatbelt signal, but I didn’t bother and didn’t strap myself. When the plane crashed against the peak, the fuselage sucked me and the force threw me to the front. I fainted and was unconcious for two days. Later I learnt that in the first night I was outside, with the dead, because they had thought that I was also dead. I only had a shirt and jeans. All my warm clothes were in my suitcase and the others wore them. The lack of clothes was one of the big problems. We were very lightly dressed the first weeks — until we found the suitcases. We woke up with a layer of snow, stiffened. I was also saved in the avalanche of the 29th. It happened at 7 pm, but it was very dark, and many were asleep. The snow covered me completely. I held my breath all I could while I made an effort to get out. I felt like I was about to explode, but I didn’t want to let myself go. I finally let myself free. And it wasn’t the only avalanche. Another one completely covered the only air opening that we left in the plane and all of us almost suffocated. All of this made me find God again. But, of course, you don’t want me to talk about God. I am Parrado, who lost his mother and a sister in the tragedy. And yet I seem the most whole. I am the chief. Look, if I were in Montevideo and I was told that my mother and sister died in an accident, I think I would have gone crazy. That I would bang my head against the walls. But there in the mountains, in an extreme situation, everything is different. My mother died in the act. My sister later, in my arms. I tried saving her with mouth to mouth until the last moment. And what did I do? I buried them, prayed for them and kept going. Because my life was on the line too, you understand? Things feel different… nobody believes that a dude who saw the death of his mother, his sister, his best friend (it was Pancho Abal) could be here in the Sheraton with a glass of orange juice in his hand, like a first class tourist, and yet… I don’t know either how I became the chief, the leader. I don’t understand. Maybe because I always wanted be exemplary, I never gave up, because every time someone falted I shouted “you are getting out of here, even if it is by crawling!”. Or because I buried the dead, even if those dead were a friend’s wife of my own sister. We went on many expeditions looking for help, but none with results. But one night I told Carlitos Páez “I’m not dying of hunger here in the plane. I‘d prefer to die in the mountain.“ And the next day I went out with Roberto (Canessa) with the idea of walking West until we found a way to salvation. We barely reached the peak of the mountain—
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2024.04.15 06:57 DarthTormentum First Glock [22] Advice on Lasers?
2024.04.09 00:42 cr4shn Hope its true. Vendors? I need to stock up.
Got any good vendors? submitted by cr4shn to WAGuns [link] [comments] |
2024.04.08 16:46 ConfusionEmpty3542 Echoes of Destiny: Chapter 7.
2024.04.05 05:20 khaliltegee Inland Empire: Each city has its powerhouse Sur hood; example for Chino its Chino Sinners, for Riverside its ES Riva & Casa Blanca. Here's diff cities with the heavyweight Sur hoods in the IE, Part 1.
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2024.03.29 12:47 lgtwgs Compras não realizadas por mim, mas feitas na minha conta
2024.03.27 07:08 obblonge Fast Fashion
2024.03.26 02:20 zilvia891 m&p compact
Thanks to a gent on Gunbroker for one of these rare compact slides without the magazine lettering on the slide. submitted by zilvia891 to SmithAndWesson [link] [comments] |
2024.03.25 18:16 Electronic-Hat2836 Nando, Carlitos and Pancho return home. Photos from "Gente" magazine.
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2024.03.25 18:16 Electronic-Hat2836 Nando, Carlitos and Pancho return home. Photos from "Gente" magazine.
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2024.03.23 23:02 ProphetJodio Well... It's Jodiover
I underestimated your intelligence, it should be an obvious joke submitted by ProphetJodio to ShuumatsuNoValkyrie [link] [comments] |
2024.03.23 05:30 Helsthef1994 Don Sergio proudly poses with his press clippings and the medal of honor given to him by the Uruguayan embassy in 1973. As always, the good friends of @re.viven rescuing jewels from the lost media. Gente Magazine 1975.
submitted by Helsthef1994 to SocietyOfTheSnow [link] [comments] |
2024.03.16 17:10 MagdaDzo 1973: after the rescue (description bellow)
1st photo: On January 18, 1973, some bodies and human remains of the 29 victims of the FAU Fairchild 751 accident were buried (on the side of the Las Lágrimas glacier). The fuselage was subsequently set on fire (not entirely due to strong wind) before leaving the scene. View towards the west. submitted by MagdaDzo to SocietyOfTheSnow [link] [comments] 2nd photo: Father Iván Caviedes Medina volunteered to bury the victims. View towards the east. 3rd photo: Remains of the right side of the fuselage before beining burned. You can see the cut made by the propeller of the right engine during the impact. View towards the west. 4th and 5th photo: In April 1973, Argentine journalist Alfredo Serra from Gente magazine visited the glacier to record the traces of the tragedy. In the last image we can see the Sosneado volcano in the back (right). Source: Facebook group "Trekking y andinismo Chile" |
2024.03.15 17:38 dieg0s Se você nasceu na classe média ou baixa, sua melhor chance de se tornar bilionário é ganhar na Mega da Virada 4 vezes
2024.03.02 02:41 Gurisalho Leiam isso caso pensem em comprar um kindle.
2024.02.29 01:17 Helsthef1994 Agustin dellacorte in the patio of Antonio Vizintin's house for a production of Gente de Uruguay Magazine.
submitted by Helsthef1994 to SocietyOfTheSnow [link] [comments] |
2024.02.21 05:28 SVNDEVISTVN New Exquisite PSP Article By GTM?!
"PlayStation Portable" Games Tribune Magazine Article By: Julián Plaza Photography By: Fernando Sánchez Monthly Issue: Enero 24 (January 2024) submitted by SVNDEVISTVN to PSP [link] [comments] Hi gents! I found this great article about the Sony PSP while catching up with my latest GTM magazines. Figured I'd share it with you awesome people. It's an absolutely fantastic read with superb photography. If you can't read Spanish but want to read, save the post to your photos app and then select the text in the photos that you wish to translate. Otherwise, just enjoy these epic photos of the Silver PSP 2000. Lol |
2024.02.20 21:50 odajoana Everything you need to know about Festival da Canção 2024
Show | Date | Starting Time | Expected running time |
---|---|---|---|
Semi-final 1 | Saturday, 24 February 2023 | 22h00 CET | 3h00min (includes ad breaks) |
Semi-final 2 | Saturday, 2 March 2023 | No info yet | No info yet |
Final | Saturday, 9 March 2023 | No info yet | No info yet |
# | Artist | Song | Invited Songwriter / Open Submission Choice | Full credits |
---|---|---|---|---|
01 | Nena | "Teorias da Conspiração" | Nena | Nena Marques |
02 | Perpétua | "Bem Longe Daqui" | Perpétua | Beatriz Capote, Diogo Rocha, Ruben Teixeira, Xavier Sousa |
03 | Mela | "Água" | Mela | Mariana Gonçalves |
04 | Mila Dores | "Afia a Língua" | Mila Dores | Filipe Sambado, Mila Dores |
05 | Left. | "Volto a Ti" | Left. | António Maciel Graça |
06 | Rita Rocha | "Pontos Finais" | Rita Rocha | Rita Rocha |
07 | Noble | "Memory" | Noble | Pedro Fidalgo, Rui Saraiva |
08 | João Borsch | "...Pelas Costuras" | João Borsch | João Borsch |
09 | Iolanda | "Grito" | Iolanda | Alberto Hernández, Iolanda Costa |
10 | Bispo | "Casa Portuguesa" | Bispo | Pedro Bispo |
# | Artist | Song | Invited Songwriter / Open Submission Choice | Full credits |
---|---|---|---|---|
01 | Buba Espinho | "O Farol" | Buba Espinho | Bernardo Espinho |
02 | Cristina Clara | "Primavera" | Cristina Clara | Cristina Clara, Jon Luz |
03 | Leo Middea | "Doce Mistério" | Leo Middea | Leo Middea |
04 | Filipa | "You Can't Hide" | Filipa | Filipa Carmo da Silva, Marie Jenkins, Rich Pilkington |
05 | João Couto | "Quarto Para Um" | João Couto | João Couto |
06 | Huca | "Pé de Choro" | Huca | Bruno Huca, Milton Gulli |
07 | No Maka ft. Ana Maria | "Aceitar" | No Maka | Ana Maria Ramos, Duarte Carvalho, Emanuel Oliveira, Mara Cortez, Marcelo Garrido, Rafael Martins |
08 | Maria João | "Dia" | Maria João | João Farinha, Maria João Grancha |
09 | Rita Onofre | "Criatura" | Rita Onofre | Rita Onofre |
10 | Silk Nobre | "Change" | Silk Nobre | Artur Guimarães, Fernando Nobre, Rui Pedro Pity |
António Calvário (1964), Simone de Oliveira (1965 and 1969), Paulo de Carvalho (solo in 1974 and as part of Os Amigos in 1977), Adelaide Ferreira (1985), Anabela (1993), Tó Cruz (1995), Inês Santos (1998 as part of Alma Lusa), Rita Guerra (2003), Vânia Fernandes (2008), Filipa Sousa (2012), Suzy (2014), Isaura (2018), Elisa Silva (2020), The Black Mamba (2021) and Mimicat (2023).Past former contestants and hosts:
Helena Isabel, Herman José, Delfins, António Sala, Pedro Granger, Sónia Araújo, Jorge Gabriel, Catarina Furtado, Selma Uamusse, Tozé Brito, Eládio Clímaco, Milhanas, Isabel Angelino, Sílvia Alberto, Júlio Isidro, Pedro Fernandes, Margarida Mercês de Melo, Sofia Morais, José Nuno Martins, Ana Paula Reis, Isabel Campelo, Jorge Fernando, Manuel Luís Goucha, Helena Coelho, Rui Drumond, António Victorino de Almeida, Alex D'Alva Teixeira, Ana Lua Caiano and Luca Argel.You can check the official Instagram or TikTok pages for pictures of these people.
2024.02.15 10:06 Consistent-Ad1890 “Coin” Harvey Books
I started my collection over 10 years ago and this week I have acquired the last two books that I have never been able to find anywhere- The Patriots of America and Common Sense. These books are written by W.H. Harvey, a popular free-silver advocate and a campaign advisor to Presidential candidate William Jennings Bryan. His first book, Coin’s Financial School (1893), was his most popular book. It is said that over 1,000,000 copies were sold. submitted by Consistent-Ad1890 to rarebooks [link] [comments] My W. H. (Coin) Harvey rare book collection includes: 𝘊𝘰𝘪𝘯’𝘴 𝘍𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘭 𝘚𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘰𝘭 (1894), 𝘈 𝘛𝘢𝘭𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘛𝘸𝘰 𝘕𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 (1894), 𝘊𝘰𝘪𝘯’𝘴 𝘍𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘭 𝘚𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘰𝘭 𝘜𝘱 𝘛𝘰 𝘋𝘢𝘵𝘦 (1895), 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘗𝘢𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘰𝘵𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘈𝘮𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘢 (1895), 𝘊𝘰𝘪𝘯 𝘰𝘯 𝘔𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘺, 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘵𝘴, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘐𝘮𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘮 (1900), 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘙𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘥𝘺 (1915, autographed), 𝘗𝘢𝘶𝘭’𝘴 𝘚𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘰𝘭 𝘰𝘧 𝘚𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘴𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘱 (1924), 𝘊𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘰𝘯 𝘚𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘦 𝘰𝘳 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘊𝘭𝘰𝘵 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘉𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘉𝘰𝘥𝘺 𝘗𝘰𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘤 (1927), and 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘉𝘰𝘰𝘬 (1932). |