Keeping with a hunting theme, in 1980, my 10th life was put at risk.
My brother and his friend Richard invited me to join them in flying by helicopter into the Tararuas one weekend.
We assembled early Saturday morning at Wellington airport to fly in Peter Button's jet ranger. Peter was famous for his search and rescue exploits and was a pioneer in helicopter rescues.
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| Peter Button rescue |
Sadly he was killed some years ago in a crash in Tawa while helping the police look for an escaped prisoner.
Peter was a superb flyer and, flying up the river valleys in the Tararua ranges he demonstrated some of his skills.
At one point, banking at a 45 degree angle, the rear door flew open. As I was sitting next to the door I popped out.
Fortunately I was wearing my gunbelt strapped across my chest. It wasn't exactly practical but looked good in the mirror.
I was glad that I was wearing it however and that I had securely done it up (but not the seatbelt) because Richard, who was sitting next to me grabbed the belt and held on. Terry, my brother held on to him so we had this scenario of me half out of the jet ranger, Richard leaning out holding me and Terry being the anchor until Peter Button finished the turn and straightened up. I have to admit that I was scared, watching the river and rocks flashing past below.
We landed quite a way up the river (The Otaki I think) and set up camp. Our intention was to do some hunting on Saturday night and Sunday morning and make our way out following the river to a prearranged pick-up point somewhere north of Waikanae. The rain put paid to this idea. It bucketed down and the river was rising rapidly. As we were in a gorge we decided to get out of there. It was lucky we did as a couple of hours into the tramp/run the river had risen to the point where the tracks were covered and we had to float down it using our packs for buoyancy. At this stage the river while flowing fast was merely deep. If we had stayed where we were we would have been forced out by flood waters and these are most dangerous because of the debris in the water. We were, I guess. ahead of the tree trunks and other stuff that were no doubt hurtling down the river further up.
We ended up at our pick up point wet and bedraggled. Luckily the pick up point was a pub so we wet our insides to match our outsides while waiting for our early transport home.
4 comments:
That's the kind of thing that happens in the movies, like in James Bond flicks when someone is trying to get rid of Bond.
Been there TC. I had a similar experience in a Wessex over Salisbury plain in the 70s. The stories about life flashing before your eyes are not (in my experience) true. Just sheer abject terror. If I hadn't been holding my trusty 7.62 SLR, and could use it to block the hatchway, I'd be dog tucker on the plains some 400 feet below.
Good post.
BTW Could you use your renowned hunting skills to obliterate that carrot chewing idiot?
TSB - sounds terrifying. That would give the old tingling feeling in the goolies.
re the carrot joker - done. I shot him
re the carrot joker - done. I shot him
Well done.
That would give the old tingling feeling in the goolies.
Yes it did. Plus a tightening of various sphincter muscles. The details of which are too disgusting to mention here.
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