10 Jul 2026, 12:00Pr Wil Masih; edited by SM CommunicationsInverness, Highland, Scotland, United Kingdom
"A Living Miracle" – Surviving an 80-Metre Fall from Ben Nevis
An extraordinary story of survival, resilience and faith.
When Krzystof set out to climb Ben Nevis in March this year, he was looking for challenge, adventure and the beauty of the mountains. What he did not know was that the climb would become a fight for his life – and later, a story of resilience, hope and a faith that sustained him through the most difficult chapter of his life.
A former firefighter from Poland, he was no stranger to danger, discipline or physical challenge. He had always loved the mountains. In Poland, he had climbed Świnica, one of the country's highest and most demanding peaks. After completing several climbs in the Scottish Highlands, he began to feel ready for an even greater challenge.
The plan was to climb Ben Nevis.
He drove to Fort William and camped there, intending to climb Ben Nevis the following morning. However, heavy rain and strong winds made the climb too dangerous, so he made the sensible decision to wait and spend another night there.
At around 3:00 the next morning, he began the climb.
At first, the weather seemed perfect. The views were breath-taking. Fog drifted around the mountains, creating a scene of beauty and silence. He remembers thinking that he could have taken photographs from the car park and gone no further, but the mountain called him onward.
He continued climbing.
Eventually, he reached a hut and stopped for around twenty or thirty minutes to put on his climbing gear. After that, the route changed. What had begun as a hike became mountaineering.
He reached a steep section of rock and ice. As he climbed, an avalanche came down nearby. Although he was not caught in it, the experience gave him pause. For a brief moment, he considered turning back.
But when he looked up at Ben Nevis, he decided to continue.
He crossed the area where the avalanche had fallen and carried on towards the ice wall. Using his ice axes, he began climbing again. He was in Zero Gully. Other climbers were also on the route, and they exchanged brief words as they made their way upwards.
He was almost at the top. Only two or three metres remained.
Then he stopped to wait because climbers were ahead of him. More small avalanches came down. Standing on a narrow step in the snow and ice, he waited for the right moment to move. When the avalanches stopped, he resumed climbing.
He lifted himself up.
Then, suddenly, he felt himself thrown from the rock.
The next thing he remembers is lying in the snow.
"I asked God to save me," he recalls.
He was disorientated and had no idea how badly he was injured. He felt no pain. Everything seemed strangely dreamlike. He had fallen somewhere between eighty and one hundred metres, but he had no memory of the fall itself. He had lost consciousness.
The next thing he remembers is waking in hospital.
There were bright lights. There was something in his mouth, and it felt uncomfortable. Confused and disorientated, he tried to remove it. He did not understand where he was or what had happened.
Later, he was told that he had suffered severe hypothermia and that, paradoxically, it may have helped improve his chances of survival.
He had spent three days in a coma after major surgery. The operation lasted from around six in the morning until eight in the evening. Eight or nine surgeons worked to treat his extensive injuries.
At first, hospital staff were unable to identify him, so the police contacted the authorities in Poland. His family confirmed his identity, and his parents were told that he might not survive.
When he finally woke, he was dizzy and confused. He remembers speaking harshly to one of the nurses.
"But she was an angel," he says with gratitude.
Later, when he understood what had happened, he apologised.
The doctors came to assess his memory. One asked whether he knew where he was. He replied that he was in the Queen Elizabeth University Hospital in Glasgow. The doctor confirmed that he had been brought there by air ambulance.
Then came the list of injuries.
His spine was broken, although his spinal cord had remained intact despite being severely stretched. His ribs were fractured. One lung had collapsed. His kidney had been damaged. His leg was broken.
The doctor explained just how serious his injuries had been and expressed amazement that, despite falling such a great distance without wearing a helmet, Krzystof had escaped without any head injuries.
Krzystof remained in the major trauma unit for a week.
Even with morphine, the pain was immense.
After examining the movement and sensation in his legs, one of the doctors explained that the outlook was not encouraging and that it was unlikely he would walk again.
Krzystof was determined to prove otherwise.
"I knew I was going to walk," he says. "I did not know how long it would take, or how painful it would be, but I knew I was going to walk."
Physiotherapy began slowly. At first, the nurses had to do everything for him. He was weak, dependent and in constant pain. Yet he kept repeating the same words.
"I am going to walk on my own legs."
After about two months, he was lifted into a wheelchair for one hour at a time, then two, gradually increasing as his body adapted. Sitting upright was painful because of his broken ribs.
Later, with specialist equipment, the rehabilitation team helped him stand. Progress came slowly, but it came. Eventually, he began walking with support. He progressed from a Zimmer frame to crutches, spending increasing amounts of time exercising in the hospital gym.
Every four weeks, he met with his physiotherapists and nurses to review his progress and set new goals. His determination and steady commitment to rehabilitation meant he advanced more quickly than many had expected. Little by little, he regained strength.
Over time, what had once seemed impossible began to look achievable.
The man who had been told he would probably never walk again eventually walked out of hospital on his own legs.
Some members of the hospital staff affectionately began referring to him as "the living miracle" because of the remarkable progress he had made.
Krzystof believes God spared his life. During his recovery, his faith deepened as he prayed that God would strengthen him spiritually and teach him to trust Him completely.
Today, he speaks with deep gratitude for the surgeons, nurses, physiotherapists, psychologists and every member of the medical team whose skill and dedication helped save his life and support his recovery.
Reflecting on his experience, Krzystof hopes that sharing his story will encourage others. Through the darkest period of his life, his faith in God gave him hope, strength and the determination to keep going. He says that if his experience helps even one person find God, or hope and strength in the face of adversity, then the pain he endured will have been worth it.
Krzystof attends the Seventh-day Adventist church group in Inverness.An extraordinary story of survival, resilience and faith.
When Krzystof set out to climb Ben Nevis in March this year, he was looking for challenge, adventure and the beauty of the mountains. What he did not know was that the climb would become a fight for his life – and later, a story of resilience, hope and a faith that sustained him through the most difficult chapter of his life.
A former firefighter from Poland, he was no stranger to danger, discipline or physical challenge. He had always loved the mountains. In Poland, he had climbed Świnica, one of the country's highest and most demanding peaks. After completing several climbs in the Scottish Highlands, he began to feel ready for an even greater challenge.
The plan was to climb Ben Nevis.
He drove to Fort William and camped there, intending to climb Ben Nevis the following morning. However, heavy rain and strong winds made the climb too dangerous, so he made the sensible decision to wait and spend another night there.
At around 3:00 the next morning, he began the climb.
At first, the weather seemed perfect. The views were breath-taking. Fog drifted around the mountains, creating a scene of beauty and silence. He remembers thinking that he could have taken photographs from the car park and gone no further, but the mountain called him onward.
He continued climbing.
Eventually, he reached a hut and stopped for around twenty or thirty minutes to put on his climbing gear. After that, the route changed. What had begun as a hike became mountaineering.
He reached a steep section of rock and ice. As he climbed, an avalanche came down nearby. Although he was not caught in it, the experience gave him pause. For a brief moment, he considered turning back.
But when he looked up at Ben Nevis, he decided to continue.
He crossed the area where the avalanche had fallen and carried on towards the ice wall. Using his ice axes, he began climbing again. He was in Zero Gully. Other climbers were also on the route, and they exchanged brief words as they made their way upwards.
He was almost at the top. Only two or three metres remained.
Then he stopped to wait because climbers were ahead of him. More small avalanches came down. Standing on a narrow step in the snow and ice, he waited for the right moment to move. When the avalanches stopped, he resumed climbing.
He lifted himself up.
Then, suddenly, he felt himself thrown from the rock.
The next thing he remembers is lying in the snow.
"I asked God to save me," he recalls.
He was disorientated and had no idea how badly he was injured. He felt no pain. Everything seemed strangely dreamlike. He had fallen somewhere between eighty and one hundred metres, but he had no memory of the fall itself. He had lost consciousness.
The next thing he remembers is waking in hospital.
There were bright lights. There was something in his mouth, and it felt uncomfortable. Confused and disorientated, he tried to remove it. He did not understand where he was or what had happened.
Later, he was told that he had suffered severe hypothermia and that, paradoxically, it may have helped improve his chances of survival.
He had spent three days in a coma after major surgery. The operation lasted from around six in the morning until eight in the evening. Eight or nine surgeons worked to treat his extensive injuries.
At first, hospital staff were unable to identify him, so the police contacted the authorities in Poland. His family confirmed his identity, and his parents were told that he might not survive.
When he finally woke, he was dizzy and confused. He remembers speaking harshly to one of the nurses.
"But she was an angel," he says with gratitude.
Later, when he understood what had happened, he apologised.
The doctors came to assess his memory. One asked whether he knew where he was. He replied that he was in the Queen Elizabeth University Hospital in Glasgow. The doctor confirmed that he had been brought there by air ambulance.
Then came the list of injuries.
His spine was broken, although his spinal cord had remained intact despite being severely stretched. His ribs were fractured. One lung had collapsed. His kidney had been damaged. His leg was broken.
The doctor explained just how serious his injuries had been and expressed amazement that, despite falling such a great distance without wearing a helmet, Krzystof had escaped without any head injuries.
Krzystof remained in the major trauma unit for a week.
Even with morphine, the pain was immense.
After examining the movement and sensation in his legs, one of the doctors explained that the outlook was not encouraging and that it was unlikely he would walk again.
Krzystof was determined to prove otherwise.
"I knew I was going to walk," he says. "I did not know how long it would take, or how painful it would be, but I knew I was going to walk."
Physiotherapy began slowly. At first, the nurses had to do everything for him. He was weak, dependent and in constant pain. Yet he kept repeating the same words.
"I am going to walk on my own legs."
After about two months, he was lifted into a wheelchair for one hour at a time, then two, gradually increasing as his body adapted. Sitting upright was painful because of his broken ribs.
Later, with specialist equipment, the rehabilitation team helped him stand. Progress came slowly, but it came. Eventually, he began walking with support. He progressed from a Zimmer frame to crutches, spending increasing amounts of time exercising in the hospital gym.
Every four weeks, he met with his physiotherapists and nurses to review his progress and set new goals. His determination and steady commitment to rehabilitation meant he advanced more quickly than many had expected. Little by little, he regained strength.
Over time, what had once seemed impossible began to look achievable.
The man who had been told he would probably never walk again eventually walked out of hospital on his own legs.
Some members of the hospital staff affectionately began referring to him as "the living miracle" because of the remarkable progress he had made.
Krzystof believes God spared his life. During his recovery, his faith deepened as he prayed that God would strengthen him spiritually and teach him to trust Him completely.
Today, he speaks with deep gratitude for the surgeons, nurses, physiotherapists, psychologists and every member of the medical team whose skill and dedication helped save his life and support his recovery.
Reflecting on his experience, Krzystof hopes that sharing his story will encourage others. Through the darkest period of his life, his faith in God gave him hope, strength and the determination to keep going. He says that if his experience helps even one person find God, or hope and strength in the face of adversity, then the pain he endured will have been worth it.
Krzystof attends the Seventh-day Adventist church group in Inverness.
