Last summer, I went on a guided tour of the Three Sisters mountain range in South Western Tierra del Fuego. It was a grueling hike. 
We made it over the first two peaks without any serious incidents, but then at the base of the third Sister tragedy struck. Our guide was hit by a foaming rock. It just seemed to leap from out of nowhere and fell directly on the head of poor Schlomo Schwartzenheimmer. The blow was not a fatal one, however the liquid that is excreted from foaming rocks is poisonous. Schlomo lapsed into a coma. The entire group immediately began to panic and beat their chests in despair. I knew that it was all up to me. I took control of the situation. I barked out orders to make a litter on which to carry our fallen guide. Then I lead the expedition to continue over the third peak. I knew that we would be able to reach the helicopters that were waiting to fly us back home, if only we did not succumb to panic. We got to the summit and then started down the other side. It took us many long hours and we had a couple of more close encounters with foaming rocks, but we finally made it. The charter helicopters flew us all home and Schlomo was able to get treatment for his injuries (though I understand that he was left with no feeling in either of his little toes). For my bravery I was awarded the Triple Pentacle, the highest honour given in Tierra del Fuego and I was given a key to the Three Sisters.
