Everything to Live For: The Inspirational Story of Turia Pitt (10 page)

The following is the patter between Paul and Bryn during what turned out to be the most extraordinary rescue of Turia:

On approach:

On landing:

Paul had landed his right skid on the ledge, with sloping ground to the rear, and balanced the helicopter precariously for what seemed an eternity to him, although in reality was just minutes; things were slightly tense.

Bryn signalled for Sarel and those helping Turia to limp to the helicopter to hurry up: the delay – agonising for Paul – was because Turia’s feet had swollen up enormously, and those on the ground were trying to get her shoes off before walking her to the hovering chopper.

As Rod Rutherford strained to hold the door open, Bryn reached out to help Turia into the helicopter, something he found very difficult as her burns were so extensive – her epidermis (outer layer of skin) was completely burnt and flaking off, revealing her second layer of skin (the dermis) with its white, leathery charred appearance. This meant it wasn’t possible for him to just grab her arms and pull her in.

Loading and departure:

These movements had to be done slowly as they altered the weight and balance of the helicopter, which Paul had to correct with the controls. At the same time, the spinning rotors were kicking up ash and dust into the faces of those assisting on the ground.

Paul – adrenalin still pumping but relieved to be safely away – then flew back down to pick up Kate and Dr Brahm. Once they were on board, Turia sat opposite Sarel and Kate sat opposite Dr Brahm. Sarel administered more pain relief. And they headed for Kununurra.

During the return flight, Bryn made several calls, one of which was to ask for an ambulance to meet them at the purpose-built ambulance shed at the Heliwork base. When he called the hospital and explained the critical injuries of the two passengers to the emergency nurse, the immediate change in the tone of her voice told him that she understood the gravity of the situation.

Two of the three Kununurra ambulances were still on their way back with other competitors. When the remaining ambulance was not waiting at the airport as expected, Paul, Bryn and Sarel discussed what to do next. The desperate condition of Turia and Kate meant waiting for an ambulance at the airport wasn’t an option.

Paul circled the Kununurra township several times, looking for somewhere to land, ruling out various parks due to trees or overhead power lines; eventually he decided on a small grassed area in front of Argyle House (which also happened to be the office of Turia’s employer), opposite the hospital.

Again Bryn acted as Paul’s extra eyes as he made the difficult descent onto the pocket-sized patch; some locals, seeing the helicopter approach, parked cars across the entrance to the street to block traffic. Paul jumped out of the helicopter to assist Turia off and it was the first time he had seen the extent of her burns. He was shocked to find that there was literally no unburnt skin for him to hold on to her. Doctors and nurses came running across the road with gurneys to help Sarel and Dr Brahm get Turia and Kate into Emergency.

It was 5.30 pm, nearly four hours after the fateful six had been caught in the fire.

As she was rushed across the road, Turia kept pleading for someone to call Michael. The last thing she said before they wheeled her into the operating theatre was, ‘Can somebody please call my boyfriend.’

Martin, Michael and Mary had been assisted onto Nathan’s helicopter and flown to the Kununurra heliport, where they were conveyed by ambulance to the Kununurra Hospital. The others at the site were driven out in the RacingthePlanet and ambulance vehicles.

Competitors continued to race between checkpoints three and six, with one person actually finishing the race at 7 pm. The race was officially called off at 5 pm.

M
ICHAEL HAD SLEPT THROUGH
T
URIA’S PHONE CALLS THAT
morning and when he woke he saw he had three missed calls and two voice messages:

‘Oh sweets, pick up the phone; I want to talk to you before the race.’

‘I’m about to go into race; please pick up the phone, I want to talk to you.’

Michael detected crankiness in her voice. He called her mobile but it rang out; he checked the time and realised the race must have started and she was probably out of mobile range. He sent her a text message hoping it would be the first thing she read when she picked up her mobile after the race:

‘Can’t believe you have finished such a huge race. Congratulations.’

He caught his flight to Darwin, arriving later that day. After checking in at the nearby airport hotel he had a swim in the pool. He had dinner in the restaurant and watched a bit of TV in the lounge with some other young men; he saw a news item about a house fire in which an elderly woman died.

‘That’d be a fucked way to go, wouldn’t it?’ he commented to one of the guys. Surprisingly, there was no news about the fire in the Kimberley. After that he went to bed.

At about 11 pm Michael’s phone rang. He thought it might be Turia but when he looked at the screen, it was a number he didn’t recognise.

‘Am I speaking to Michael?’ It was an American voice.

‘Yes.’

‘This is Dr Brandee Waite; I’m the medical doctor for RacingthePlanet.’ Michael’s heart sank. Turia must have been in some sort of accident.

‘I’m afraid Turia has been in a fire and she has burns to more than sixty per cent of her body. She is currently intubated at Kununurra Hospital.’

Intubated? Fire? Michael was confused. He’d just woken up and here was some woman with an American accent telling him Turia had been in a fire.

‘What do you mean; is this some kind of joke?’ he asked.

‘No, I’m afraid it’s not. This is very serious. Turia is in hospital.’

‘What happened?’

‘We’re not sure. There was a fire in the gorge and some people got trapped.’

Michael, suddenly awake, felt a shiver up his spine. What on earth was going on? How could someone get trapped in a fire in a gorge – wasn’t it supposed to be rocky with water?

‘Where are her burns?’

‘Legs, arms, hands and feet,’ Dr Waite told him.

At the mention of ‘hands and feet’, Michael asked if there was any chance of amputations. Dr Waite replied that her hands were not looking good. He couldn’t speak. How was it possible to get such terrible news from a stranger at 11 o’clock at night?

‘What happens next?’ he finally asked.

Dr Waite explained that she was critically ill but stable. She would be in Kununurra Hospital for about another hour and then she was going to be medivaced to the Burns Unit at Royal Perth Hospital.

‘How did she get out?’ he suddenly thought to ask.

Dr Waite explained there was an evacuation with a helicopter.

‘How did she get to the helicopter – did she walk? Were you there?’

‘Yes, I was there and Turia walked to the helicopter.’

‘Was she screaming in pain?’

‘No, she was quite calm and she got into the helicopter with some assistance.’

She could walk! That put Michael’s mind at ease a bit.

The doctor asked if Michael knew Genji, Turia’s brother.

‘Yes. I’ll call him.’

‘No. I will call him.’

Michael’s first instinct was to tell her ‘no’
he
wanted to call; Genji was
his
mate and she didn’t even know him. But he let it go. Before hanging up, Dr Waite gave Michael her mobile number and told him he could call her any time.

Michael was in shock but he didn’t cry. Not then. He was still processing the information. Next he sprang into action and called his father, Gary. His father sounded sleepy when he picked up the phone. It was about 1.30 am on the east coast. Michael told him what had happened.

‘But the main thing is – she’s alive.’ He told his shocked father to book tickets for himself and Célestine to Perth and he’d meet them at the Perth Hospital. Next, he grabbed his luggage, which included three big surfboards, and lugged everything down to the front desk to check out. He requested the hotel’s twenty-four-hour transport service to the airport.

The hotel’s airport bus seemed to take forever to arrive. Michael approached the desk clerk and explained the urgent emergency situation. Normally placid by nature, Michael thought this man remained too calm to have understood the full gravity of the situation; he wanted to scream, ‘My girl might be dying, don’t you get it?’ He just wanted to get to Perth; everything had to happen immediately.

When Michael got to the airport, things were very quiet. Of course it was the early hours of the morning, with few flights going anywhere, but he was pleased to find someone at the Qantas desk. Michael told the young woman that he had to get to Perth as soon as possible. She told them there was actually a flight to Perth about to leave on the tarmac, and there wasn’t another one until much later in the day. He begged to be on it but it wasn’t possible, the flight was closed; he was told the quickest way to get to Perth was to fly to Sydney and then catch a flight across to Perth. With the time difference, he would then arrive in Perth at about 10 am.

He sat down to wait for the Sydney flight and rang Genji.

On the flight to Sydney, Michael tried to concentrate on the positive. She was alive; she was a tough girl and would pull through. And she’d walked to the helicopter. That was something.

Friday 2 September was a beautiful spring day in Lake Burrill. Célestine had sent Turia an SMS in the morning to wish her well in the big race. At 3 pm (1 pm in Western Australia) Célestine was bringing in clothes off the line and as she walked into the house, her eye was caught by a photo of Turia on the dresser by the door. Turia was in her graduation gown posing by a tree in the university grounds; she was looking happy and proud and the sun streaming through the open door seemed to cast a glow over her. It almost looked as if she was surrounded by fire.

That evening Célestine was restless. As a writer she often worked late. John had gone to bed early as he had his usual 5 am start the next morning. At 11 pm she was working on a part of a story where a daughter is crying out to her mother for help and she couldn’t get Turia out of her mind. She tried calling her but it went to message bank. Célestine couldn’t get rid of the pang in her heart; she felt something had happened to her girl. She talked herself out of calling Michael and didn’t wake John; instead she gave herself a talking to:
Come on; she’s just tired after running this big race
; she willed herself to believe it.

When the phone rang at 12.05 am it was Genji. This in itself was not unusual; Genji often rang his mother in the middle of the night to ‘have a chat’ and tell her he loved her. Célestine weighed up whether or not to answer. Mother love won.

‘Mum, I’m afraid I have some bad news. Turia was caught in a fire during the marathon today . . .’

‘What?’ Célestine listened, heart pounding, while Genji told her he didn’t know anything else except it was serious and that he and his new wife, Angela, and Michael’s father, Gary, were flying to Perth on the first flight out in the morning. Michael was in Darwin and flying back to Sydney and would meet them at Sydney Airport and they would all fly over together.

‘Pack your bags, Mum. Gary will pick you up at four o’clock.’

Her daughter had been crying out to her after all. Pack your bags.

She woke John, distraught, but couldn’t tell him anything as she didn’t know anything and he sat with her quietly on the deck as she sat, numb with shock, staring out at the shimmering lake. Eventually she woke Turia’s brothers to tell them. Toriki, who was twelve, started crying distractedly. Heimanu, two years older, received the news more calmly. ‘Wake me when you have more news,’ he told his mother and went back to bed.

Célestine set about packing; what to take? Would it be cold in Perth? She had no idea how long she might be there. For some reason she felt she had to take Turia’s Cambodian ChildCare cycle ride T-shirt. It seemed important but she couldn’t find it at first. But she found a small statue of the Virgin Mary and put it in her bag. She really had no idea what she was going to do with it but visualised getting some holy water to throw over it – and then all would be alright. Finally she found the T-shirt and stuffed that in her bag too; maybe it would give Turia some healing energy.

Gary picked her up and, although Célestine didn’t know him well, he was a calming influence on the long drive from the South Coast to Sydney Airport. Plus she gleaned some more information about Turia’s rescue from what Michael had told Gary, which she found optimistic. He told her Turia had walked to the helicopter and her heart leapt with hope.
She’s alright
, she thought;
something’s happened and she’s a brave hero
–
that’s typical of Turia
; maybe she would get an award for it.