Death of a Hero

We had been back at Mlilwane for a couple of days, feeling very much at home. I woke at my usual time of around 6am with no idea that today would bring events seared into my mind forever. Instead, I gazed out of my window at the rain pounding down simply enjoying being curled up safe and warm inside Henry.

Eventually I got up, grabbed my gym bag and made a dash for the ablutions block through the mud and rain in my nightshirt and flip flops. At this campsite the ablutions block included an over-sized area by the sinks which was under cover – perfect for training out of the rain.

Half an hour later James joined me with the Jetboil and made us both a cup of tea. As we sat there looking out at the rain we commented how pleased we are that we have built Henry the way we have so, no matter what the weather does, we have a comfortable space inside with everything we need to stay warm and dry. He may be small but he is perfectly formed!

Not for the first time over the last few weeks I thought to myself how much I love James, how much I love Henry and how much I love our lives. I realised I was actually becoming contented and I smiled into my Rooibos tea.

But my reveries had to be put to one side for the moment as practicalities needed to be dealt with. We hadn´t moved from the campsite in a couple of days and between the power needed to charge our fridge and the fact that the forest canopy above us cut out much of the sun to the solar panels, Henry´s batteries were running low. The rain had stopped and everything was drying out so we decided to go for a short drive around the game reserve.

We had found before that many of the roads shown on the map either didn´t exist or were no-entry so I wasn´t sure where we were going to end up. At first the trails were easy, switching back and forth through the plains, the creamy long grass of the African savannah either side. But Mlilwane is not a large reserve and we had done most of the plains after an hour so I suggested we head towards the mountains to pass a bit more time.

With the park map proving less than reliable, and none of the navigation apps having any trails marked at all, it was a lot of guess work but eventually we found the old main gate marked on the map and turned left onto the Mountain Road alongside the river.

It was beautiful, the river ran a few meters below us in gentle rapids, the trees and bushes were lush. It was clear that few people came up here as the road showed only a few tyre tracks and the branches were encroaching into the trail.

But as we drove on James got edgy, Henry was getting scratched by the branches and the overgrowth was getting increasingly dense. ´We shouldn´t be up here´ he said, frustrated, ´the roof is going to get scratched to bits´. But there was nowhere wide enough to turn around so all we could do was carry on, hoping to find a side road to take us off.

We drove on for a few more minutes with no luck but then were relieved to find a space that, with a bit of work by James and the machete, became large enough to turn Henry round.

We jumped back in, annoyed by circumstances, and started heading back the way we had come. I tried to remember how far we had driven since the undergrowth had become uncomfortably dense but it seemed a long way. I settled in, keen to be back on the plains.

Henry´s rear wheel slipped behind me. What had happened? I was confused, the trail looked fine.

The ground had given way under us and revealed that the bushes on my side were not growing on a verge alongside us as it had seemed but were rooted about 20m down a sheer drop. There was now nothing between Henry´s back wheel and that sheer drop apart from vegetation. Vegetation that could not possibly hold 3.2 tonnes of Landrover. As his back wheel slipped, Henry twisted with his full weight bearing down on the vegetation. He couldn´t hold on, he started to roll sideways.

We have recovered dash cam footage of this. In reality it all happened in a split second. To me, as we experienced it, it seemed to take hours. I will write this as I experienced it.

The back wheel slipped to the side, Henry started to lean over. My heart leapt, a roll is our worst nightmare. We couldn´t actually roll could we? Not in real life? The trail didn´t seem dangerous, surely not.

Slowly Henry fell sideways, slipping down off the edge of the trail, the bushes came closer towards my head. Oh God, no. My window crunched into the ground, I felt the door press into my leg. I exclaimed to James ´what have we done??´.

We continued to roll down, I was disoriented, I couldn´t get a grip on where we were. The sounds of metal crunching, grinding, twisting were all around me. Henry, Henry, Henry. NO! Go back in time 10 seconds, close my eyes and wake up on the plains. This wasn´t happening, it wasn´t happening.

Eventually we came to a stop. We were upside down, hanging by our seatbelts. Maybe I´m the eternal optimist, maybe I can´t accept my own mortality, or maybe I´m just not sufficiently knowledgeable about the construction and physical properties of Landrovers. Whatever the reason, I had no fear for myself nor, unusually, for James. All I could think about was Henry and what we had done to him.

I reached for my seatbelt and after what seemed like an age finally managed to release it. I didn´t seem to fall, I felt as though I just lay there. I was aware of James trying to undo his belt and then he was at my side. I couldn´t orient myself, everything to my right seemed to be blocked, my entire attention was focussed on the inside of the cab and James to my left – or was he in front of me? Nothing was clear. I had a strange sense that I had plenty of space around me. I waited for James to get out.

He didn´t.

He was looking around him, not saying anything, just the occasional muttering under his breath. I think I kept repeating ´what have we done?´ but I wasn´t aware of it at the time. James was clearly getting concerned and as he continued not to get out I started to worry. I realised we were stuck, a sense of dread started to well up inside me.

The doors had buckled, there was no possibility of opening them. The windows were ballistic lined, designed specifically so that if they smashed they wouldn´t fall out, they would stick firm and unyielding. Exactly what you want to prevent someone from getting in, not so good if you need to get out.

It feels to me as though we lay there for a very long time. The Landrover was on its roof, metal creaking all round us, the whole weight of the chassis and engine bearing down on the thin aluminium frame. I may have been thinking only of the damage to Henry but James knows more about the construction of Landrovers and was fully aware of the risk that the roof could give way any second and crush everything inside.

I am married to an exceptional person. James has an amazing capacity to stay calm and clear-headed in a crisis. He proved that when we were attacked in Mthatha but this was on a different scale. He seemed to put all fear and emotion out of his head, a job needed doing and he had to do it. He looked around, weighed up the danger and assessed the options. His clear thinking and calm analysis eventually lead him to notice in all that wreckage that the rear window on the driver´s side was not broken. He reached around the drivers seat and felt for the winder. Thank you Landrover for designing the Defender with manual-winding rear windows.

Eventually the window was down but James still didn´t climb out despite the increasing groaning of the frame around us. He turned to me – ´have you managed to get your seat belt off?´ – ´yes´ – ´are you hurt?´- ´no´- ´can you move towards me?´- ´yes´. Having checked all this, only then did he squeeze himself out of the window. Once he was out I pushed myself across the cab and reached for the window myself. He grabbed my arms and dragged me out.

We stood in the deep undergrowth behind Henry, the mountain dropping down in front of us. We needed to get round him to the other side in order to climb back up the bank. I tried to push my way through the bushes but they were too dense. ´There´s no way through´ I said. ´Henry may not have stopped rolling yet, whatever it takes, get up that bank´ replied James. For the first time it sank in that we were in danger and this wasn´t all about Henry. I pushed and tore and kicked at the bushes. I have to be honest, I have no recollection of the next few minutes, but eventually we were at the top looking down at the wreckage.

I sat down on the bank and cried, streams of tears and sobs – we had lost Henry, we had lost everything. What had we done? What had we done?

James was on a different page, no time for regrets, we were in a mess and we needed to get out of it. He went back down to the wreckage and reached in through the open window. In a feat worthy of a Hollywood movie, he managed to recover three things – his IPhone, the walkie talkies and the map of the park. That was all he could find, but if three things were going to be rescued those would be in the top four. The one thing we desperately needed that could not be salvaged was our satellite tracker to send an SOS message. We were on our own.

I pulled myself together and looked at the map. We were far too far away from anything and anyone to expect help to pass by any time soon. We had no phone signal or internet coverage. Main Camp with the ranger station was about 10-12km away over the mountains and we already knew the trails didn´t do what the map said. The old main gate was about 4km away down the straight Mountain Road we had just driven but when we passed it an hour ago it had appeared deserted.

The only option was to attempt to walk back to Main Camp. I guessed 3-4 hours, assuming I could navigate my way. My sense of direction and space is famously terrible but I´m good with a map – just maybe not a map that didn´t reflect the actual trails.

We hugged and wished each other good luck. James had a bad gash on the top of his head that was bleeding but he shrugged it off. I could see he was alert, his eyes were focussed and he wasn´t wobbly on his feet so concussion seemed unlikely. But adrenaline is a powerful thing, who knows what state he would be in once it started to wear off. I promised to check in on the walkie talkie frequently.

As I headed off I had a strong sense of dread. I really had no idea how I was going to get to Main Camp or how long it would take me. If things got tricky I had no confidence that I could find my way back, so once I started off I was committed. But James was out there alone with a gash on his head, Henry was a wreck half way down the mountain and whilst it was only 11:45am, the weather was threatening to turn. And in any event it would be dark in just over 5 hours. There was no choice, no decision to be made. It was my turn to put all fears and emotion out of my head and get the job done.

I knew exactly where James and Henry were on the map and had marked the location on Maps.me on James´ phone just to be absolutely sure. As long as I could find help everything would be ok, I just needed to make sure I didn´t get lost or take so long to find someone that it got cold and dark.

I strode out onto the trail pushing through the branches and undergrowth. After what seemed like only a few seconds, but was probably about 20 minutes, I found another trail going off to the left, just as the map said, and had renewed confidence. I radioed James, he answered, hearing his voice comforted me. I took the turn and gritted my teeth.

I walked and walked, the trails sometimes followed the map, other times I had to look at the compass on James´s phone to ensure I chose the way most likely to keep me heading south towards Main Camp. Maps.me had none of these trails marked, as far as it was concerned I was walking through a blank screen. But it did have Main Camp marked on it so I just kept my blue dot moving in that direction.

I kept losing the trail, it would peter out to nothing only for me to spot it far ahead and have to scramble over rocks to reach it. The rocks were slippery and steep. At one point small wooden bridges had been built over sheer drops which at once comforted me that I was still on a marked trail and frightened me as they were rotten and slippery with nothing to hold onto as I crossed. I remember thinking it would be ironic for both me and Henry to fall off a cliff edge on the same day.

After about an hour I was looking at the IPhone and realised it had picked up a phone signal. I couldn´t believe it, a lifeline. I rang our primary emergency contact – my older sister, Helen.

The phone rang, there was no answer. I called again, no answer. I rang and rang and rang. As the phone was ringing I was saying to myself ´Helen, answer the phone, Helen, answer the phone….´

My mind was fixed on my task, it took all my concentration to keep track of where I was on the map and keep from slipping on the rocks. But eventually sense seeped into my head and I remembered we have a second emergency contact – a good friend, Cate. I rang.

Cate answered immediately. The line wasn´t great but I could hear her voice. ´Cate, Cate, we´re in trouble´. Her tone changed immediately to one of concern. She took all the details and leapt into action calling first the ranger station at Mlilwane and then Helen. Bless Cate for being a wonderful human being.

I radioed James to tell him, he sounded relieved. I was just relieved to hear his voice and know he was still ok. I ploughed on, I may have made contact with someone in the outside world but I was not going to risk James´ life on the chance that Cate would get through to the rangers or that the rangers would send help. But I did feel more hopeful.

A few minutes later the phone rang, it was Helen. I answered but the line went dead. It rang again, this time we connected. I said ´Hello´ in a tiny, wavering voice and heard her breath ´thank god´ on the other end. Hearing my sister´s concerned voice was too much, I crumbled and burst into tears. I sobbed down the phone to her that Henry was gone, we had lost everything….it couldn´t be real.

Shortly afterwards Cate called back, she had spoken to someone at Mlilwane, they knew we needed help and she believed they were sending it. I radioed James to update him. Silence. I tried again and again, nothing. I was too far away, we had lost contact. I felt desolate and alone.

Over the course of the next hour and a half I walked, scrambled, slipped and slid over the mountain trails closing in – not on Main Camp, but on a small private lodge called Reilly´s Hilltop that was closer and from where I hoped they could contact the rangers. Helen and Cate called me over and again to check in and see where I was. They were my lifeline and kept me going.

After almost 2 hours I finally came up to the boundary of Reilly´s Lodge. I was greeted by a locked gate and a high electric fence with a vertical wooden ladder over it. I tucked the map, phone and walkie talkie into my pockets and clambered up. As I jumped down onto the dirt on the other side I looked up at the road winding into the trees towards the lodge. I was almost back in civilisation and felt relief sweep over me. I started to cry. I walked and sobbed through the trees, past some deserted staff quarters to a barrier which I ducked under and saw a sign for reception. The sobs turned into full chest heaves as I walked through the door.

The lady who greeted me was called Ruth and she probably has no idea how much she helped me at one of the worst points in my life. She was shocked to hear my story, hugged me, reassured me James would be ok, repeatedly exclaiming ´oh my good god´ which was somehow very comforting. She got me tissues and water then called the rangers and walked me back to the gate to meet them.

The rangers had apparently been searching the whole reserve for me and looked relieved to see me – but not nearly so relieved as I was to see them. I jumped into their Landrover and showed them on the map where James was. They turned the Landrover round and we sped off down the track.

The cold wind blew through my t shirt as we streaked down the dirt roads back towards James and I started shaking. It was a long way, they couldn´t drive the trails I had just walked, and it seemed to take an eternity. But eventually we turned onto the Mountain Road. I was tracking our progress on Maps.me as we got ever closer to the green blob that marked where James and Henry were.

I tried the walkie again – ´James, James…´. Nothing. I waited a few minutes and tried again – nothing. Again….´James, James´, my voice was cracking. Then a different crackle…´Hello…´ Thank god!

The relief washed over me. I drew in a deep breath, wiped my tears away, set my jaw and waited. We drove closer and closer to the scene of the accident – the scene that marked the end of our dreams. As we rounded a corner I looked down into my lap, I couldn´t bear to see it. Then we were there. James was standing on the trail, a ranger next to him and…as I looked down…Henry.

I jumped out of their Landrover and threw my arms around James. He winced with pain, his bruises were starting to come out, but hugged me back tightly. We stood together and looked down at the scene with utter devastation.

James had spent his time evaluating the wreckage of our beloved Henry. He had found that the tall kitchen units on the drivers side, which he had designed and built to be bomb-proof, were all that had stopped the roof from caving in on that side. Even more unbelievable, the roof on the passenger side had been held only by the Porta Pottie that we stow on the bench behind the passenger seat.

´We were lucky to get out alive´ he said grimly, ´if it were a normal Landrover that roof would have caved in´. The shock of how close we had been to a far worse disaster started to sink in.

Henry was gone, he was a mangled heap at the bottom of a bank down the mountain. Our lives would never be the same again, all our dreams were finished. The love I felt for Henry washed over me with intense sadness. But as we stood there grieving one thing was absolutely certain. Even as he had lain there dying, Henry had saved our lives.