A Plan, a Peak, and a Perfect Day
Boxing Day 2021 was one of those classic Canterbury summer days with big blue skies. I’d been planning a run up in the Kaikōura Ranges for a couple of weeks. Mt Manakau to Mt Uwerau and down the other side. A good long mountain mission. At that time I was a personal trainer in a local Christchurch gym along with coaching people in trail running. I’d done my fair share of big mountain trail missions, so I knew what I was in for.
Other people I knew had done the route before, so I’d mapped it out and loaded the GPX file onto my watch. I was even filming parts of it for my social media, with the intention to hopefully inspire others to get out and explore this beautiful country we live in.
The Descent
Getting to the summit of Mt Manakau took about five and a half hours. My watch read fifteen kilometres and 3,500 metres of steep elevation gain! It was tough going in that heat. About 35 degrees. I’d used all my water but found some snow higher up and used that to refill. It was all going to plan. I decided that continuing the full run would be too tough now and so I looked for an alternative route down that would take me back to the car more quickly.
I could see the valley below and a ridge that looked like a good line down. From above, it looked quite manageable. What I couldn’t see was how steep it was beyond my line of sight.
I started descending the scree slope, and then it turned into rock with loose gravel on top. I lost my footing and slid 20 or 30 metres before I managed to stop myself on a narrow rock ledge.
At first, I wasn’t too worried but then I could hear loose stones tumbling off the rock face. It was steep. I looked up, thinking maybe I could climb back, but it was a 300 to 400 metre scramble over loose scree. I checked the side. Left looked okay at first, but if I slipped, I’d only have 10 or 12 metres before I went over the drop. I decided to stay put.
No Reception
I thought I saw someone up on the ridge, so I blew my whistle and shouted, but nothing moved so it must have just been a rock. I tried my phone. No reception. I thought maybe the emergency number would work, but when I dialled 111, it wouldn’t connect.
That’s when my heart sank.
I’d bought a personal locator beacon two or three days earlier specifically for this run. It was sending out my location every ten minutes, so my emergency contact would know where I was and would be notified that I’d stopped moving at some point but they wouldn’t know what had happened. Even in the dire predicament I was in, I was still in two minds, was this really bad enough to put out a distress call? I decided to push the SOS button. The light blinked red. I didn’t know if it was being received anywhere but there was nothing else I could do.
I tried 111 again. Tried texting my wife. Nothing was working.
It was around 4pm by then. I’d hit the summit around 3. There were probably another six or seven hours to go if I’d carried on. But now I was stuck. Looking down the valley, I could hear helicopters. That gave me hope. But they didn’t come up to my height, looking back I think they were taking tourists up the mountains. The waiting is really tough.
It started cooling down and I began to panic a bit. I put on all my thermals and made a short video of the situation. I just needed to get it out. What had happened, where I was and how I got there. I did a video for my wife, that was hard.
The Sound of Help
About an hour and a half after getting stuck, I heard the sound of the chopper. So much louder than anything I’d heard before. It was close. I looked up and saw them come over the ridge.
I was beside myself and quite emotional knowing they were here for me.
They circled for about 10 minutes. I could see them, but I’m just a dot on the side of a mountain. I waved my blue jacket, but even that was hard for them to spot. It makes you realise how important it is to carry something bright or reflective.
Then the door opened, and I knew they’d seen me.
The chopper circled while they got everything ready. There was a cliff on one side, so the pilot, Dan, had to be precise. Lives depended on it. Kath, the winch operator, started giving signals, though I couldn’t hear her at first. Then I heard her yell, “Put your hands up” and before I knew it, she was beside me.
She had about 20 or 30 seconds to get the harness under my arms, through my legs and get me secure before we were lifted off. The usual sling setup wouldn’t have worked. The space was too tight in that spot. Dan and crewperson Cory, had to keep the winch tension perfect and place Kath exactly right. One wrong move and we both could’ve gone over.
As we winched up, I shut my eyes. Next thing, I was being pulled into the chopper.
First thing Kath said to me was, “You are so lucky, that was a massive drop down there.” Turned out it was a 400 to 500 metre sheer drop. She asked if I was okay, and all I could say was, “I’m so thirsty.” She handed me a bottle of water. Best water I’ve ever had.
They asked where my car was and flew me back to it, landing in the riverbed beside it. I remember hearing Cory give Dan the landing instructions as we came in perfectly. Kath saw a nearby farmer and asked him to give me a cup of tea before I drove home, just to settle the nerves a bit.
I expected to get a bill, to be honest.
It’s amazing to think that this service is just there for us when we need it.
Looking Back
Two weeks ago, I went back to the area with a few friends on an overnight tramp. I stood and looked up at that ridge from a different angle and could see the exact spot where I’d been stranded. Shivers ran down my spine. I couldn’t believe I’d been up there.
Since then, I’ve told all my clients and running mates the same thing. Don’t muck around. Always carry the right gear; a seam-sealed jacket, thermals, extra water, food, and above all, a personal locator beacon. It saved my life.
