"I came to peace with death over the course of my time in the canyon," he said of the gravity of his predicament. But while he was at peace with it, he thought it wasn't his decision.
"If it was my time to go, it was my time to go," he said, "But at the same time, if it wasn't my time to go, it wasn't and I'd get out of there, no matter what I did."
The worst of four options
A skilled mountaineer, Ralston started his adventure April 26. He didn't carry much equipment - some climbing gear, three liters of water, four candy bars, two burritos, a CD player, CDs and the cheap and ineffective knife.
He didn't expect to need anything else.
But less than an hour after saying goodbye to two women he'd met on the trail, Ralston was scrambling over and under boulders, slithering around rock and negotiating the tricky canyon walls.
When he came to a chockstone with a 10-foot drop-off, he saw good handholds on the far side of a boulder. Ralston reached and grabbed hold of them and started lowering himself. While he was fully extended, hanging from both hands, the boulder rotated and settled on his right hand and wrist, he said.
It was nearly 3 o'clock on a beautiful Saturday afternoon, no one knew where he was and Ralston's hand was pinned between the boulder and the canyon wall.
"I started throwing myself at the boulder to see if it would move," Ralston said. "It didn't move."
An engineer by training and a list-maker by habit, Ralston forced his mind to settle and to think. He realized he had four options: He could wait for rescue, chip the rock with the dull tool, rig his climbing gear into a pulley system to move the rock or, as a last resort, sever the limb and hike to safety.
He faced these grim choices for five days. For six days following his rescue, he remained in the hospital, where he had plenty of time to review them.
Guilt at not leaving a note
As he sat before the media, Ralston spoke calmly and clearly, cracking a smile several times and rarely looking afraid, tired or sad.
Wearing a lime-green String Cheese Incident T-shirt, cargo shorts and a camera around his neck, he casually walked into the hospital meeting room with both his parents.
When the photographers finished snapping their first round of shots, Ralston said, "And now one for me," and took pictures of both sides of the room.
He thanked the hospital staff, the mountain rescue volunteers and everyone who kept him in their thoughts and prayers before launching into the story of his five-day ordeal in Utah's Bluejohn Canyon.
A fiend for live music who grew up in Ohio and Colorado, Ralston spoke of moments of depression mixed with other moments of happiness. "The best times were recalling my life and the great times I've had with friends," he said.
The worst times were the moments he realized this might be the end. "I felt remorse because I was leaving behind a lot of people who cared about me," he said, "And I felt guilt that I hadn't even left a note letting someone know where to find my remains."
His parents, Larry and Donna Ralston, sat stoically on either side of him. Neither said anything, and his father occasionally offered Aron water from a large mug with a bending straw.
Praying for new inspiration
Early in what Ralston calls his "entrapment," he secured a rope to something above him and worked it through his climbing harness, allowing him to sit down and take the pressure off his legs.
As he sat there in solitude, contemplating life and death, he kept returning to his options and trying each one: waiting, chipping rock, rigging pulleys or cutting his arm to free it.
The first three weren't working. "At no point was I able to get the boulder to budge, not even microscopically," he said.
On Tuesday, April 29, three days into his entrapment, Ralston decided that the last option, however unappealing, might be the only one. He got all his belongings ready to go, prepared to tie a tourniquet and had his bicycle shorts ready to absorb all the blood.
He drank his last bit of water and steadied himself to sever his arm, only to find the knife wasn't going through skin, much less bone.
Undeterred, Ralston kept coming back to the problem, thinking like an engineer, and seeking new solutions and untried angles. At times, he could see none.
Still reviewing his options and testing them, Ralston tried to sever his arm again. This time he was able to puncture the skin but quickly realized the bone was another matter.
He prayed for better decision-
making and he prayed for new inspiration.
At times, Ralston knew he was in good company. "I felt a greater presence there than just me," he said. "I felt the presence of my friends and family. I didn't sleep the whole time, so it was almost like waking visions."
'The joys of a future life'
Finally, on Thursday morning, Ralston had a revelation, a moment of inspiration.
"All the joys and euphoria of a future life rushed into me, and it occurred to me I might be able to break the bones in my wrist," he said. And he knew it was now or never.
"This was the last opportunity I'd have and still have the strength to get out to where I could be found," he said.
Ralston used his body weight, working from different angles and at different speeds to put force onto his wrist. It took him about an hour but he was able to break one bone, the radius, and then with more work and more torque, he snapped the ulna, the larger of the two bones in the forearm, and then he was free.
Ralston applied a tourniquet and rappelled himself into a pool of water - the first water he'd seen in days. He drank some, was relieved that his body responded well and walked on.
Six or six and a half miles later, Ralston found a Dutch couple who took his pack from him and gave him more water and Oreo cookies.
"From there, we trudged through the soft sand and the heat to the spot where a helicopter could find us," Ralston said.
Blonder and thinner than he was at the start, Ralston remained awake in the helicopter and gave his story to the doctors upon landing. He shut his eyes and enjoyed his first rest only after the doctors gave him drugs to sedate him.
Margarita dreaming
Ralston says he's still learning from his experience. He knows he should have left word where he was going, but he also knows he could have been with 10 friends and, if the boulder moved as it did, he still would have lost his hand and forearm.
He's looking forward to going home with his parents and spending time outdoors, maybe a gentle hike with friends. "And if the doctors will allow it, a cold margarita," he said. "I thought a lot about margaritas while I was out there."
He thought a lot about a lot of things, and he's grateful to be free.
"If it was my time to go, it was my time to go," he said, "But at the same time, if it wasn't my time to go, it wasn't and I'd get out of there, no matter what I did."
The worst of four options
A skilled mountaineer, Ralston started his adventure April 26. He didn't carry much equipment - some climbing gear, three liters of water, four candy bars, two burritos, a CD player, CDs and the cheap and ineffective knife.
He didn't expect to need anything else.
But less than an hour after saying goodbye to two women he'd met on the trail, Ralston was scrambling over and under boulders, slithering around rock and negotiating the tricky canyon walls.
When he came to a chockstone with a 10-foot drop-off, he saw good handholds on the far side of a boulder. Ralston reached and grabbed hold of them and started lowering himself. While he was fully extended, hanging from both hands, the boulder rotated and settled on his right hand and wrist, he said.
It was nearly 3 o'clock on a beautiful Saturday afternoon, no one knew where he was and Ralston's hand was pinned between the boulder and the canyon wall.
"I started throwing myself at the boulder to see if it would move," Ralston said. "It didn't move."
An engineer by training and a list-maker by habit, Ralston forced his mind to settle and to think. He realized he had four options: He could wait for rescue, chip the rock with the dull tool, rig his climbing gear into a pulley system to move the rock or, as a last resort, sever the limb and hike to safety.
He faced these grim choices for five days. For six days following his rescue, he remained in the hospital, where he had plenty of time to review them.
Guilt at not leaving a note
As he sat before the media, Ralston spoke calmly and clearly, cracking a smile several times and rarely looking afraid, tired or sad.
Wearing a lime-green String Cheese Incident T-shirt, cargo shorts and a camera around his neck, he casually walked into the hospital meeting room with both his parents.
When the photographers finished snapping their first round of shots, Ralston said, "And now one for me," and took pictures of both sides of the room.
He thanked the hospital staff, the mountain rescue volunteers and everyone who kept him in their thoughts and prayers before launching into the story of his five-day ordeal in Utah's Bluejohn Canyon.
A fiend for live music who grew up in Ohio and Colorado, Ralston spoke of moments of depression mixed with other moments of happiness. "The best times were recalling my life and the great times I've had with friends," he said.
The worst times were the moments he realized this might be the end. "I felt remorse because I was leaving behind a lot of people who cared about me," he said, "And I felt guilt that I hadn't even left a note letting someone know where to find my remains."
His parents, Larry and Donna Ralston, sat stoically on either side of him. Neither said anything, and his father occasionally offered Aron water from a large mug with a bending straw.
Praying for new inspiration
Early in what Ralston calls his "entrapment," he secured a rope to something above him and worked it through his climbing harness, allowing him to sit down and take the pressure off his legs.
As he sat there in solitude, contemplating life and death, he kept returning to his options and trying each one: waiting, chipping rock, rigging pulleys or cutting his arm to free it.
The first three weren't working. "At no point was I able to get the boulder to budge, not even microscopically," he said.
On Tuesday, April 29, three days into his entrapment, Ralston decided that the last option, however unappealing, might be the only one. He got all his belongings ready to go, prepared to tie a tourniquet and had his bicycle shorts ready to absorb all the blood.
He drank his last bit of water and steadied himself to sever his arm, only to find the knife wasn't going through skin, much less bone.
Undeterred, Ralston kept coming back to the problem, thinking like an engineer, and seeking new solutions and untried angles. At times, he could see none.
Still reviewing his options and testing them, Ralston tried to sever his arm again. This time he was able to puncture the skin but quickly realized the bone was another matter.
He prayed for better decision-
making and he prayed for new inspiration.
At times, Ralston knew he was in good company. "I felt a greater presence there than just me," he said. "I felt the presence of my friends and family. I didn't sleep the whole time, so it was almost like waking visions."
'The joys of a future life'
Finally, on Thursday morning, Ralston had a revelation, a moment of inspiration.
"All the joys and euphoria of a future life rushed into me, and it occurred to me I might be able to break the bones in my wrist," he said. And he knew it was now or never.
"This was the last opportunity I'd have and still have the strength to get out to where I could be found," he said.
Ralston used his body weight, working from different angles and at different speeds to put force onto his wrist. It took him about an hour but he was able to break one bone, the radius, and then with more work and more torque, he snapped the ulna, the larger of the two bones in the forearm, and then he was free.
Ralston applied a tourniquet and rappelled himself into a pool of water - the first water he'd seen in days. He drank some, was relieved that his body responded well and walked on.
Six or six and a half miles later, Ralston found a Dutch couple who took his pack from him and gave him more water and Oreo cookies.
"From there, we trudged through the soft sand and the heat to the spot where a helicopter could find us," Ralston said.
Blonder and thinner than he was at the start, Ralston remained awake in the helicopter and gave his story to the doctors upon landing. He shut his eyes and enjoyed his first rest only after the doctors gave him drugs to sedate him.
Margarita dreaming
Ralston says he's still learning from his experience. He knows he should have left word where he was going, but he also knows he could have been with 10 friends and, if the boulder moved as it did, he still would have lost his hand and forearm.
He's looking forward to going home with his parents and spending time outdoors, maybe a gentle hike with friends. "And if the doctors will allow it, a cold margarita," he said. "I thought a lot about margaritas while I was out there."
He thought a lot about a lot of things, and he's grateful to be free.