The Recovery

It felt as though our lives would never be the same again, we were devastated but we were still alive – barely harmed apart from a few bruises – and we were counting our blessings.

As we stood on the trail looking down at Henry, we knew we had to get him back up no matter what state he was in. We owed him that much at least and everything we owned was inside.

It was barely three hours since the accident but James had already spent the time planning how to bring Henry back up from the bottom of the cliff – and the four rangers who had come to rescue us were enthusiastic to help. Everyone shook their heads in sorrow, it was a sobering site to see Henry, so admired by everyone in the reserve over the 2 weeks we had made Mlilwane our home, now lying on his roof a crumpled mess.

James had been remarkable. His calm and clear head had got us out of the wreckage and whilst I was bringing the rangers he had spent his time risking his life yet again going back into Henry to find as much as he could that would be useful – winch ropes, tools, our coats, water bottles, the machete. He even managed to switch the fridge off to reduce the risk of an electrical spark with all the leaking diesel. When I realised he had been crawling around inside I was glad I had not been there to see it!

The rangers had expected to find an injured man needing rescuing and were amazed to find a natural leader planning the recovery, organising everyone and ready to get going. They said to me afterwards that they assumed he had military training!

But the day had not finished with us yet. Following James´ lead, everyone jumped down the bank and started clearing rocks, earth and vegetation out of the way so we could try and roll Henry´s body back over onto his wheels. Only then could we begin the task of winching him back up the bank.

2 hours were spent clearing the way but we could get no further forwards. The ranger´s Landrover, with a relatively small petrol engine, was no match for Henry´s weight and had no chance of pulling him back over. It was getting dark and the rain had started again. The trails were too narrow and muddy for any recovery vehicle to access and there were no tractors in reach.

Everyone was exhausted with the efforts but it had became clear they were in vain. A recovery specialist, Sam, had been called and arrived quickly to assess the situation. Even he could not help and as the rain and the darkness set in we had to accept that there was no chance of recovery today.

We were gutted. How could we leave Henry there all night? He lay in the undergrowth, hazard lights flashing, groaning under the weight of his chassis. It looked for all the world as though his hazards were him calling for help or crying out in fear. My heart was wrenching.

Sam looked at the rain then at us and said ´you know, after every storm there is always a rainbow´. I could have hugged him, what an incredibly lovely thing to say at a time like this.

There were three real dangers – his body could collapse further if he was left on his roof much longer; with diesel spewing everywhere out of his tanks and the batteries unreachable to disconnect he could ignite; or looters could find him and strip him bare. But what could we do? Elias and Dumi promised regular checks from the rangers overnight and reassured us that the locals were too afraid of the animals to enter the reserve. In any event, said Elias, the hazards flashing would frighten them off.

We had to walk 2km in the rain to a recovery truck that had tried unsuccessfully to reach us – getting stuck in deep mud. By now it was pitch black and we had been out there for 7 hours since the accident. We stumbled over the slippery, muddy trails, cold and soaked to the skin. But all I could think about was the image of Henry lying there all night.

We managed to drag the recovery truck out of the mire and jumped in. As it slipped and slid and tilted along the Mountain Road back out of the reserve, I clung on, eyes closed, fighting off flashbacks of the accident.

The Mlilwane owners very kindly put us up in a chalet for the night with dinner and breakfast on them. We were extremely grateful but too exhausted and shocked to eat much at all or to really take any of it in.

Elias and Dumi had promised to come and collect us at 10am in the morning to take us back up the mountain and start trying the recovery afresh. That was our target – to get back up the mountain, back to Henry. We just had to wait out the time between now and then.

I got into bed reconciled to a night fighting off panic attacks. I lay there with the light on staring at the ceiling, the accident replaying in my head over and over again, the image of Henry lying there alone in the dark and the rain emblazoned in my mind. Our home, our security, gone.

I watched the darkness deepen then lighten again, the shadows flickering around me for what seemed like an eternity, my eyes never closing once. The clock ticked on and on, minute by long minute until finally the sun came up. It was 6am.

James was already awake. We turned and looked at each other, the pain and exhaustion evident on both our faces. But we were determined not to fail this time, whatever it took, whatever we had to do – Henry was not staying on that mountain another night.

I got out of bed having had no sleep but feeling energised by the knowledge that Henry needed us and thinking of nothing but bringing him down from the mountain.

I remembered we had left my gym kit, the gas bottle and two chairs at the camp site before our fateful drive the day before so I walked down to collect them – I had a strong urge to gather whatever possessions we had left around us, to cling to them and keep them safe. As I passed through reception the lovely lady at the front desk, Winnie, who had become my friend over the two weeks we had stayed at Mlilwane, said how sorry she was to hear what had happened. I put my hand over my mouth and burst into tears, muttering an apology as I ran back to the chalet.

But by the time we had had a much needed breakfast, Elias and Dumi were already at our chalet raring to go and determined to succeed.

It had stopped raining in the night and the day was expected to be warm and sunny, just what we needed. But the trails were still wet and muddy and there was no chance of any recovery truck getting through. So Elias had dispatched one of Mlilwane´s tractors to the accident site and it was already waiting there for us to get going.

We packed whatever we had into their Landrover – water, park map, walkies and tools – and headed back to Henry.

We arrived to find, with great relief, that he was still lying exactly as we had left him. No fire, no looting and his body was no more crushed than it had been. The first bit of good news we´d had in a while and it gave us renewed determination.

First step, finish the digging to level the ground and clear space for Henry´s wheels to land if and when we pulled him upright. Today all four of the rangers had spades, pick-axes, saws and a machete. But it was still slow going and hot and by the time we were ready to try winching Henry over everyone was already exhausted.

The winch ropes were attached to his chassis and the tractor started pulling. Henry groaned and crunched, metal was grinding, the tractor was slipping backwards but there was movement. Henry´s roof was off the ground – just. We tied an anchor rope to support him whilst the tractor was re-set ready to pull again. Henry sank back slightly but held.

It quickly became clear, however, that even the tractor was not powerful enough to pull Henry back over. Everyone scratched their heads and wondered whether the trails were dry enough for the recovery truck to get through – but it was clear they were not. We had to work with what we´d got.

James grabbed the high lift jack, extended it to its full length, lay it on its side on the ground and attached one end to a rock with a winch rope and the other to Henry´s chassis with another rope. He showed the rangers his idea and they started pumping the jack – as the jack shortened, the rope started pulling Henry´s chassis, inch by painful inch.

Henry´s body started moving, rolling over, very, very slowly, his roof lifting higher and higher. There was a long way to go but if we could just get his wheels over far enough then gravity would do the rest and he should come crashing down onto all four feet.

A high lift jack is about a meter long but by the time the slack in the rope had been taken up we could only move Henry about half of that each time. It took about 30 pumps on the handle to go from fully extended to fully shortened and each pump was very hard work, pulling the whole weight of Henry up. After every full jack length we had to anchor him with a rope to the tractor (which was itself chained to a large tree with rocks behind each wheel) to stop him falling back before re-setting the jack and starting again.

Every time we re-set, Henry settled back at least half the way he had come. So for each full jack we pulled him over no more than 20cm.

It was excrutiatingly hard work and in the heat of the day even the rangers were tiring.

After about an hour there was a sharp crack and the 10 tonne winch rope snapped in two against the metal edge of the jack. One end caught Dumi on the arm who jumped back in pain and Henry sank back down undoing at least half of the gains we had achieved.

We re-tied the rope with more padding but the incident made us check the other ropes and we realised that the one tied around the rock was also fraying. Gloves, cardboard and anything else that could be found was tucked between the rope and the rock. It was clear there was only so much these ropes were going to take. The blood started pounding in my head with the realisation that this might not end well no matter how hard everyone tried – the odds were stacked again us.

The guys were getting frustrated. Progress was too slow and time was ticking by. No-one was prepared to fail again today but was it physically possible to pull him over like this? James, conscientious, methodical and patient, was sure we could and was also sure there was no other way. He tried to keep the rangers on track, assuring them it was working, motivating them to keep to the plan.

The biggest frustration was the fact that Henry fell back a bit every time we had to reset the jack. Elias decided to change where the jack was anchored to be more in line with the tractor so it could hold better. But the new anchor point was too far away, the rope was too long, the slack too great. After three full jacks it was clear Henry wasn´t moving at all and another hour had been lost.

The jack was re-tied back to its original position and this time the anchor point for the tractor was changed. Now the jack and the tractor were both attached to the same point on Henry´s body – one of the centre cross members. The cross member is tough but not designed to take the whole of Henry´s weight. It was bending against the strain. I was terrified – if the cross member broke there would be nothing holding Henry, not only would everything we had achieved that day be lost but the momentum could even take him rolling further down the mountain.

James and I spoke to Elias and finally he saw the danger and agreed to go back to where we had been before.

We went back to work on the original plan. Pumping the jack, Henry rising by an inch or two, anchoring him with the tractor, re-setting the jack, Henry falling back an inch, starting again.

Every time the jack got to the end the tractor pulled and Henry lurched. He seemed so close to the tipping point but he stayed firmly on his side. Each time I sent him positive thoughts ´come on Henry, fight, fight, you can do it´. But he didn´t, he just groaned and creaked and settled back on his side.

I started to feel sick and faint, James was getting increasingly frustrated and the rangers were exhausted. It was about 2.30pm, we had been out there for nearly five hours. Henry was much further over than he had started but still a long way from being on his feet.

Half an hour later a second tractor appeared. They had finished their day´s work and come to see what they could do – everyone at Mlilwane knew what had happened and everyone wanted to help.

Neither tractor was powerful enough to pull Henry over, only the high lift jack was going to do that, but two could anchor him better than one. Another rope was quickly tied to the second tractor, they both pulled to secure him and the jack was re-set.

The rangers pumped, Henry lifted another couple of inches. As we re-set, this time Henry didn´t fall so far back. The jack was pumped again. When we reached the end of the jack this time both tractors pulled with everything they had. Mud sprayed up from their tyres, engines squealing. This time I told Henry we were sorry for what we´d done to him, begged him to forgive us.

His wheels raised another inch then another, the tractors jerked and strained, his wheels rolled over, past the tipping point and with a crash and a moan he landed, shuddering, on his feet.

The roar of relief and excitement from the team could have been heard back at the campsite! I jumped up and down and wooped with joy. Henry sat there looking shattered and broken but he was on his wheels.

It had taken well over five hours but it was only the start. Henry was still sitting at the bottom of the bank but with his wheels on the ground we now had a chance of pulling him back up.

Everyone jumped over the edge and started hacking away more undergrowth and bushes to clear a path for him to come up.

James also jumped down to assess the damage. We had seen when Henry was upside down that his chassis appeared to be straight. A good start. If his engine was still in one piece we had a chance of re-building him. James looked him over, his bonnet and front wings seemed to be undamaged – could Henry still be alive? Could his engine be intact? Hope started to rise.

I had expected to see the kitchen units in the back crumpled and mangled, the bamboo floor and worktops snapped and bent. But when James opened the back door we had to catch our breath – everything inside looked untouched. The units were straight, even the doors were still on. The bamboo wasn´t even scratched never mind snapped. My heart lurched and fluttered. Henry´s body and roof were beyond repair but everything else….could it really be true that we might be able to save him?

James scouted around the vegetation under where Henry had been lying and reached around inside him to see what he could find.

The first thing he climbed up the bank with, hand outstretched to me, was my purse and Teddy! Teddy has sat on our windscreen since the day we left the UK, bought for us by our niece and taken along as he´s a very useful screen cleaner. But he´s become our mascot and is incredibly cute. When I saw him wet, dirty but still smiling it brought me to tears yet again.

Over the next hour or so we recovered so many other things – the sat nav, laptop, my iphone, the MP3 player, the satellite tracker….the pile of our belongings started to look quite respectable. Very little appeared broken, everything still worked, it truly seemed like a miracle was unfolding in front of our eyes.

We had lost the cushions, a couple of the blinds and some clothes, all soaked in mud and diesel. The android tablet was broken and most of our mounts had snapped. But even the dash cams were still working, two bottles of wine were retrieved intact and, remarkably, 10 out of 11 eggs were unbroken in the kitchen drawer!

We were in a daze. It felt as though bit by bit our lives were being given back to us. It seemed as unreal as the accident had the day before. I felt myself being dragged up from the pit of despair into a world where we could actually start to make plans and rebuild. It seems that designing Henry´s internal storage to be bomb proof for rough roads had not just saved our lives by holding the roof up but had also protected so many of our possessions from destruction as well.

When my camera and lens came out undamaged I just shook my head in amazement – our guardian angel had been working overtime.

We then set about the next task of dragging Henry back up the bank – not an easy job even though he was now on his wheels. The two tractors were chained together so they could pull in parallel whilst James sat inside to steer the path up. One of the rangers looked concerned. He leaned in to me and whispered ´it would be better if James wasn´t in there´. I smiled at him, my husband is a brave and determined man – ´he knows that´ I replied.

After about half an hour´s hard work Henry´s front wheels started to edge over the bank but just as we were all starting to cheer the winch rope snapped with the strain and Henry went wheeling backwards down the slope. I screamed and instinctively ran forwards to catch James! But he was able to brake and Henry came to a gentle stop, no worse than he had been before but all the work pulling him up was lost.

The winch ropes were discarded and Henry was now chained to the tractors. We started again but he was in a different position now so more trees and bushes had to be hacked away. I managed to convince James not to get in this time so instead he stood on the rock sliders and leant in to steer through the window. But even this had its risks, when the tractors suddenly lurched, James´ head hit the roof hard across his cheekbone and he had an impressive swelling across his eye for a few days.

The tractors started pulling again. Henry slowly started moving upwards. The new path we had cleared this time was not quite wide enough and there was a tree in the way. Henry´s front wing, one of the only parts of his body that had been undamaged, was irreparably dented and progress was slow.

To try to pull his wheels up out of the mud and guide him away from the trees, everyone stood on the rock sliders and jumped up and down as the tractors pulled.

And finally, after another 2 hours, Henry was dragged slowly and relentlessly up and over the bank and was standing on the trail. We were all exhausted but jubilant.

Stage 2 out of 3 was completed. Now we just needed to get him down off the mountain and to somewhere safe.

We had two choices – tow him or drive him. Towing would be dangerous, the trail down included going over slippery rocks and along tight paths – and towing is not an exact art. Driving him was by far the safer option – but what state was his engine in?

The bonnet was popped and James and Elias peered in. Everything looked ok but having been upside down for so long all the fluids would be in the wrong places. Oil would certainly have leaked into the engine and if we didn´t clean it out before turning the key we would seize the engine and destroy it.

James rang our friend who is a Landrover mechanic in the UK. He needed step by step instructions.

So, on the side of a mountain, as dusk was starting to set in, James set about dismantling Henry´s engine.

The case came off, then the cover. Delicate bits were removed to reveal the injectors and then one by one the injectors themselves were removed.

Everything that came off had to be labelled and set out in the correct order for reassembly. When everything had been removed James reached in and manually turned the engine. Oil spewed out over the bonnet. He turned again and again. Then he went to the driver´s door, leant in and turned the key. Oil shot up out of the engine, more and more spurted out then eventually it started to slow and finally stopped. Everything was carefully cleaned and then the washers and injectors were replaced. The fixings were put back in.

It was time. This was the crunch point. Was our beloved Henry alive or dead? Could we rebuild our Landrover, our home and our lives? Or was everything just a pile of scrap after all?

James leaned in through the drivers door again. We all looked at each other – Elias and Dumi as excited and nervous as we were.

He turned the key. The engine spluttered but nothing more. He turned again, another splutter – then Henry roared into life! His engine ticked over like clockwork. He was alive!