Society of the Snow: The Spirit of Human Resilience
I would be the first to admit that we knew so little about Uruguay before our recent trip. As part of my trip planning, I made a habit of researching movies and shows about the country we will be visiting on various streaming platforms. It suddenly occurred to me that we had watched a movie called Society of the Snow on Netflix about a year ago. Although it was a production by Spain, the movie tells the story of survival following the 1972 crash of Uruguayan Air Force Flight 571. It was one of the most harrowing historical dramas we had seen in recent memory. When we heard that there is actually a museum in Montevideo dedicated to this event, I knew we had to pay a visit.
Located near the corner of the Plaza of the Constitution in Ciudad Vieja, the Andes Museum 1972 was the brainchild of Jörg PA Thomsen, a Norwegian who befriended some of the survivors. Over the decades, he grew increasingly concerned that this extraordinary tale of survival might have slipped from public memory. A physical museum in the center of Montevideo would be a tangible way to memorialize this extraordinary event. This diminutive museum looks like a tourist agency from the outside, but don’t let the appearance fool you. According to Karen Higgs from Guru'Guay, which is perhaps the best independent travel resource on Uruguay, this is the single most visit-worthy museum in Uruguay.
The Andes Crash Memorial & Museum is one of the must visit in Montevideo.
For anyone who is not familiar with this incident, here is an abridged synopsis of the event. On the 13th of October, 1972, the plane carrying the Old Christians Club rugby team from Carrasco neighborhood of Montevideo crashed on the glacier of the high Andes mountains on their way to an exhibition match in Santiago, Chile. Sixteen of the passengers survived for 72 days with little provisions. When their meager food supply ran out, the survivors debated and ultimately resorted to cannibalism for their physical survival. After several attempts to seek help, they eventually created a three-person sleeping bag from the insulation they found in the broken fuselage. It allowed three of them to spend time overnight outdoors and seek help far afield. Two of them eventually made contact with a Chilean arriero after a nine-day trek.
From the street, the museum looks more like a community center.
Some had called it the most worthwhile museum for first-time visitors to Montevideo.
Needless to say, the news of their survival made international headlines, and it was dubbed the “Miracle of the Andes'‘ by the press. They became national celebrities overnight, but questions soon arose about how they managed to survive on the glacier. Before they even got back to Uruguay, rumors spread that the survivors killed their fellow passengers to feast on their flesh. Collectively, they decided not to admit to cannibalism until they could discuss it in person with families back in Montevideo. The group finally addressed the issue with great emotion and deliberation at the national press conference:
“At the Last Supper, [Jesus] distributed his body and blood to all his apostles. There, he was making us understand that we should do the same. It was an intimate communion between all of us.””
In this case, cannibalism is considered an act of sacrifice and commandership, rather than violence and savagery. I suspect many took particular interest in this plane crash because of the gory nature of cannibalism. Some might even come to this museum to see how it may address this sensitive topic. As normal people expected, cannibalism is not explicitly addressed in the museum, as it was arguably fodder for gossip and tabloids. The gruesome acts could arguably be the least interesting part of their struggle for survival, and they should be treated respectfully out of respect for those who perished there. I can’t help but wonder whether the treatment of survivors would have been different if they were from a particularly devout Catholic country.
Gustavo Zerbino’s rugby jersey of the Old Christians Club.
The museum was cramped but magnificent.
The makeshift hoodie created by the survivors from the seat cushion.
Upon paying the modest admission fee, we were instructed to start the visit with a screening of a short documentary in the basement. For those who had never heard about this event, the film was very informative and set a tone for the rest of the visit. Since we had already watched the Society of the Snow and learned a bit about the event, we were far more intrigued by a giant machine on the other end of the basement. The staff explained to us that it was a simulation chamber of the temperature at the location at the time of the crash. Because the plane was traveling in late spring between Montevideo and Santiago de Chile, most passengers did not bring winter coats, let alone proper gear for a high-altitude environment. In addition to the physical impact, the immediate thermal shock must have been jarring.
The environmental simulation chamber of the crash site.
We were offered the chance to step into the simulator to experience the cold. Four of us entered the chamber, and the light was switched off as the door slammed shut. We got to experience what it felt like to be in a -20°C, or -4°F. Having lived in a colder climate, I did not find it particularly uncomfortable at first. However, I had to be reminded that such a temperature would be unbearable with wind chill, especially for an extended period. Worst of all, it was the feeling of despair with no end in sight. I could only enjoy the terror they must feel at that moment.
The ingenious device for melting snow in sub-zero temperatures.
To survive the high altitude environment without provisions, the group had to be resourceful in adapting to the harsh reality. The most pressing physical needs were to stay warm and to procure freshwater. They quickly resorted to utilizing the clothing of the deceased and huddling together within the broken fuselage. Even with plenty of snow on the ground and sunshine, the frigid temperature made melting almost impossible. To source freshwater, the team built a makeshift solar reflector from scrap metal to melt snow. A model on display demonstrated the group's ingenuity and the difficulty in extracting the most basic natural resource. Staying alive was a struggle from the moment of the impact.
Is it bad to smile inside the museum?
Nando Parrado’s mother gave him a pair of red shoes to bring to Santiago. It became a talisman during his six-day trek to find help.
The model illustrates the fuselage’s position buried by the avalanche.
According to the survivors, the most difficult chapter of their ordeal was not cannibalism but the avalanche in the third week of the ordeal. Everyone was sleeping within the fuselage at the time, the avalanche instantly buried and filled the fuselage, and smothered eight people to death. Among the dead are Marcelo Perez, the team’s captain, and Liliana Methol, the last female survivor. The two served as the paternal and maternal figures during the ordeal, and their depth hit the group particularly hard. The survivors were buried under three feet of snow, and it took them more than two days to dig their way out. One could only imagine their fear and despair, not knowing how deep they were buried.
Over the two-month period, the group made several expeditions into the surrounding valleys in search of help or a way out. In addition to having enough freshwater and food, their biggest obstacle is staying warm during the frigid nights outside of the fuselage. Eventually, the group discovered the insulation lining of the plane’s air-conditioning system; they used copper wiring to stitch it into a thermal blanket, allowing a small group to venture farther afield. On day 61, three survivors set off on their last attempt to find help. After two nights, one of the returned to the fuselage due to the inability to keep warm. Four days later, Roberto Canessa and Nando Parrado made out of the valley and made contact with a Chilean cowboy. It took another two days for the rescuers to reach the wreckage by helicopter and rescue the rest of the group.
The chess set provided the much-needed entertainment for the suvivors.
Three weeks after their rescue, the Argentinian government led a team to the site. With the permission of the victim’s families, the group buried the dead in a mass grave topped by a makeshift cross. Because of the miraculous tales of survival, the site became something of a pilgrimage site, attracting hundreds of visitors annually. Many survivors returned to the site over the decades to pay tribute to their friends. Many artifacts were retrieved and are now on display at the museum. Objectively, exhibition design may not be world-class, but the objects here are full of personal meaning and stories. From the chess sets to the makeshift jackets sewn together, they are a testament to the spirits of human endurance and survival.
Casapueblo was the summer residence of Carlos Páez Vilaró.
Casapueblo was the summer residence of Carlos Páez Vilaró.
The “Miracle of the Andes'‘ is not simply an air disaster but also an important episode in modern Uruguayan history. With a population of just 3.5 million, Uruguay is a small country where everyone seems to know everyone. One of the most prominent survivors was Carlos Páez Rodríguez, the son of famed Uruguayan abstract painter Carlos Páez Vilaró. Vilaró spearheaded a private expedition after the official rescue effort was called off. He became the most recognizable face for the victim’s families. Today, visitors from far and wide visited Casapueblo, his famous summer residence in Maldonado, in droves. However, his involvement in the crash is not well known outside of Uruguay, much like the crash itself.
The day following our visit to the museum, we signed up for a walking tour of the old town. Among the attendees of this English-language tour was a young woman named Teresa; she was a native of Montevideo and was attending only because of her visitor from the United Kingdom. The tour guide mentioned the Miracle of the Andes and highly recommended the museum to all the guests. She casually mentioned that his uncle was one of the sixteen survivors, and the tour guide immediately treated her like a celebrity, peppering her with questions about her family. It was apparent that Brian and I were the only other people on the tour who had ever heard of this incident.
Teresa’s uncle was a survivor of the crash.
According to Teresa, her father was supposed to be on the fateful flight. Thankfully, a rescheduled chemistry exam spared him from the ordeal. Although her entire family was ecstatic about the uncle’s miraculous return, he refused to speak much about what transpired, partly due to PTSD. Unfortunately, I did not catch her uncle's name to look him up. Interestingly, she had never been to the museum and was planning to bring her friend there right after the tour. Honestly, I was so tempted to ask if we could tag along.
