Real Survival Stories - Burning Alive: Escape from the Wreckage

Episode Date: November 13, 2025

Tom Wilson is on a routine work trip to visit a construction project at Toba Inlet - a wild, remote fjord on the coast of British Columbia. But when his small, chartered plane meets a violent and horrifying end, Tom will be thrust into hell on earth. After somehow surviving the initial impact, he must find a way to overcome his panic and escape the burning remains of the aircraft. And even then, he’ll soon discover his ordeal has only just begun…   A Noiser podcast production. Hosted by John Hopkins.   Written by Heléna Lewis | Produced by Ed Baranski | Assistant Producer: Luke Lonergan | Exec produced by Joel Duddell | Sound supervisor: Tom Pink | Sound design by Matt Peaty | Assembly edit by Rob Plummer | Compositions by Oliver Baines, Dorry Macaulay, Tom Pink | Mix & mastering: Ralph Tittley.   For ad-free listening, bonus material and early access to new episodes, join Noiser+. Click the subscription banner at the top of the feed to get started. Or go to noiser.com/subscriptions   If you have an amazing survival story of your own that you’d like to put forward for the show, let us know. Drop us an email at [e-mail] Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

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We'd love to talk, business. It's mid-morning Sunday Niverm of 16th, 2008. A heavy blanket of fog hangs low over South Thormonby Island, a wild, rugged stretch of land off the coast of Vancouver, Canada. Savage winds whip through the closely crowded trees. Cold drizzle falls relentlessly from the desolate gray sky. On the forested slopes of a small, Slopes of a small, rocky mountain, thick black smoke rises, its acrid plumes mingling with

the fog before dispersing into the dank, frigid air. On the rough terrain below, fierce pockets of fire burn amongst the mangled remains of scorched, splintered trees, and twisted metal. The trail of destruction culminates in the crumpled carcass of an eight-seater plane that lies smashed on the rocky ground. It's burning. Amidst the wreckage, unconscious but still strapped in his seat, is a 35-year-old man, Tom Wilson.

His eyes snap open, and he is consumed by blinding pain. His body is engulfed by flames. I can't describe what it feels like to be on fire, But what I can tell you, it's the closest thing to insanity that I've ever experienced. Drenched in aviation fuel, Tom desperately needs to get away from the inferno that surrounds him. He tries to reach down and unfasten his seatbelt, but he's in such agony that his hands refuse to follow the commands of his own panicking brain. With every passing moment, the fire becomes more ferocious, devouring his clothes and attacking his skin.

He claws at the belt like a cornered animal trying frantically to pull away from the fire But it's no use He's trapped And if you can't get himself out of his seat soon He'll be burned alive You don't think that you could possibly live Another second before your mind shuts off

Because the pain's too much Or your heart explodes And the next second it gets worse And it gets worse And it takes you on this journey of insanity where there's nothing. The only thing that exists in that moment is the pain, is the panic.

Ever wondered what you would do when disaster strikes? If your life depended on your next decision, did you make the right choice? Welcome to real survival stories. These are the astonishing tales of ordinary people thrown into extra. extraordinary situations. People suddenly forced to fight for their lives. In this episode, we meet Tom Wilson. In November 2008, the 35-year-old area manager is on a routine

work trip to visit a construction project at Toba Inlet, a wild, remote fjord, on the coast of British Columbia. But when his small, chartered plane meets a violent and horrifying end, Tom will be thrust into hell on earth. After somehow surviving the initial impact, He must find a way to overcome his panic and escape the burning wreckage of his aircraft. And even then, you'll soon discover his ordeal has only just begun. If I'm on the side of this mountain, I have no idea where I am, I have no skin, I'm in so much pain. And I'm surrounded by death. I'm John Hopkins.

From the Noysa Podcast Network, this is real survival stories. It's noon on Saturday, November the 15th, 2008. The sun is shining, and Tom Wilson is driving from his home in Fort Saskatchewan, Alberta, to the airport at Edmonton. As area manager for Peter Kiwit Suns, a global construction. construction company, Tom travels frequently. His job involves reporting on the financial performance of various construction projects. This morning he's flying to Vancouver on the first leg of a trip that will take him to a facility at Toba Inlet, an isolated fjord known for its stunning scenery and distinctive wildlife.

Kiwit often does these large, complex mega-projects out in the middle of nowhere. And so the Tova Inlet is secluded in the mountains north of Vancouver. And so because it's remote, it's very difficult to get to. From Vancouver, the bosses have arranged an amphibious plane to fly Tom and his colleagues to be largely inaccessible fjord. It's a trip he's made before, so he knows what to expect. But as he's driving along, listening to the radio, Tom is suddenly struck by something he can't explain that was one of the strangest feelings looking back there was no logical reason but i had this

overwhelming feeling of that i shouldn't fly that i shouldn't go on this trip and i had no idea why tom is not the kind of man prone to superstitions or premonitions so although he's unsettled by the strange feeling he talks himself out of it after all what choice does he have everything is a The tickets are paid for. If he calls his boss and backs out now, it won't just affect him, but all his colleagues too. Plus, the crew at the site were waiting to be relieved. Besides, Tom is climbing the corporate ladder and forging a successful career. He has plans for the future, and it's taken him a long time to get here.

Things were pretty normal for me as a kid. I was a bit spoiled, though, with being the youngest. I ended up getting in a lot of trouble. in a lot of trouble. I moved out of my house at 15. I was just in trouble with the law. I ended up joining the military just because I was a bit of a disaster trying to figure out how to be an adult. Spent a few years in the military, I just continued to struggle with my footing, my path. After getting kicked out of the military for poor behavior, he eventually completed his education, gained a degree in accountancy, and fell into the construction sector.

It gave him the building blocks he needed. That's where my career took off. I really started to do well in life. I got promoted quickly through Kiwit. Keywit was the biggest company in my career. They taught me everything I knew. And so I grew with them. He's not about to jeopardize everything he's achieved

for the sake of some inexplicable feeling. He steadies himself and drives on. After arriving safely at Edmonton Airport, Tom checks in, passes through security and boards the plane to Vancouver. The flight passes without a hitch. It helps assuage his uneasiness. I kind of brushed it off and I'm like, huh, well that was a dumb feeling. I like that didn't make any sense at all. There was no issues. We're fine. That evening, Tom and one of his colleagues, 29-year-old Kyle Adams,

go out for dinner in Vancouver and discuss the upcoming trip. In the past year, year, the two men have been working closely together. They've developed a friendship, and Tom has taken Kyle under his wing. Because I was an area manager, I had the ability to promote. And so I went to Kyle's office two months earlier and told them that I was promoting him and training him and teaching him, and that we were going to Toba Inlet. So this is the trip. And so I brought Kyle with me because I was going to elevate his career.

Kyle was so excited because he'd never been to Toba Inlet. He'd never been to a mega project. He'd never flown on a float plane. There were so many firsts for Kyle. The two men get an early night. Their flight is booked for 10 a.m. the next day and they want to be fresh. But when morning arrives, it quickly becomes clear there's a problem. As they greet each other in the hotel lobby around 8 a.m., the scene outside is bleak and

forbidding. The cloud ceiling is low, the visibility is almost zero, it's foggy, it's raining. And I look at Kyle and I'm like, well, there's no way we're flying today. Although it's not looking promising, they decide to head to the airport anyway and check out the situation. They catch a cab. By the time they get there, the conditions haven't improved. And inside the airport, it's chaos.

Every single flight from the Vancouver International Airport that morning was either canceled or delayed because of the weather, no one was taking off. They shut down the runways. It seems certain now that the trip would be postponed. Tom and Kyle weave their way through the crowds of stressed and stranded passengers in the main body of the airport. When they reach the smaller floatplane terminal, sure enough, they're told their flight is delayed due to the weather. While they wait for further information, Tom and Kyle decide to get some breakfast. They encounter another of their co-workers, AJ, and invite him to join them. When they're finished, they catch sight of their other four colleagues and go to greet them.

Soon afterwards, to their surprise, the seven men are told they can, in fact, board their plane after all. We're all looking at each other because this doesn't make any sense. We were pretty sure we were flying and now they're instructing us to go get on the airplane. And it was really awkward. None of us felt comfortable. We were all confused by the messaging. It didn't align with what we were seeing around us. But none of us really knew what to do.

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Please enjoy responsibly. Product availability varies by region. See app for details. Despite the tense atmosphere, the seven colleagues keep Stun and head toward their plane. After all, the airport officials have cleared them for takeoff, so everything must be okay, surely. They step out onto the time. tarmac and make their way to the small eight-seater Grumman Goose aircraft. The float plane's wings are set above the cabin, with powerful engines that protrude either side

of the cockpit. With its snub nose and bulky floats, it's an odd-looking beast, but it's perfect for the task at hand. Still, the weather conditions aren't boosting anyone's confidence. It doesn't make sense to me, because I can't see a hundred yards down the runway. But we're going to fly into the mountains to try and land in this little tiny inlet. And it's not making sense to me. Their pilot is waiting to greet them and load their luggage on board.

He's an experienced pilot and Tom's flown with him before. After handing over their bags, both AJ and Tom approach the plane's door at the same moment. Each immediately steps back and insists the other boards first. They briefly banter back and forth. But Tom wins the plightness battle, and AJ enters the plane ahead of him. On flights like these, passengers are allowed to sit in the unoccupied co-pilot seat. It's a coveted position, offering significantly more legroom, as well as fantastic views when the weather is clear. A.J. heads straight towards it.

Having missed out on the best spot, Tom takes a seat two rows behind the pilot, directly under the left wing. The vibe on board feels strained. The pilot is the last to board. He gets into position and pauses. He looks back at us in the passenger cabin and he says, hey guys, we're going to have to do some low-level flying because of the weather conditions outside.

If anyone's got a problem with that, let me know now and I'll let you off. And that silence was echoing, because I'm telling you, we understood that we were in danger. But in a strange moment, despite the obvious mood of anxiety, nobody objects. The pilot kind of let that awkward silence percolate for about five seconds, maybe less. And then he looks back a second time. And he says, hey guys, it's my job to make sure that this flight doesn't. get too exciting. If it does get too exciting, we'll come back, we'll turn around and we'll have

coffee. And so everyone kind of gave the silent shrug of approval. Still, there was no affirmation, but no one said anything. No one prevents me. That one second. Why? What is it that prevents us from speaking up? I've spent more time on thinking about soul-searching my behaviors in that one second. I don't have anything else in my life. When nobody speaks up, the pilot prepares for takeoff. The course is set. The passengers fasten their seatbelts and put in mandatory earplugs to muffle the deafening noise of the engines. The plane rolls down the runway towards the water. They hit the sea and pick up speed, the power of the propellers reverberating through the small cabin.

The aircraft lurches as it attempts to take flight, bouncing off the waves while water smashes against its body. As they become airborne, Tom tries to settle in for the rest of the flight, and in an aircraft like this, that's no easy task. He twists his six-foot frame into a modified fetal position, jamming his knees into the seat in front. He pulls his hoodie up and leans his head against the window, the fabric cushioning his face on the glass.

He closes his eyes. I was just trying to be in a face of calm. I was just trying to breathe. It gets through the flight. Tom drifts in and out of sleep as the plane begins its journey through the fog. Occasionally he opens his eyes and sees the ocean, only a few hundred feet below his window. it's unnerving to be flying so low but it's not exactly unexpected as their journey progresses

without incident everything seems calm the other passengers are quiet all tom can hear is the muffled sound of the aircraft but 22 minutes into the flight everything changes without any warning like no warning at all there was this massive drying You would think it would be the impact of a plane crash that can get someone's attention, but it wasn't. It was just noise. And so I hear this massive sound and it's like this metal just being sheared. Instantly, Tom's eyes snap open. And with his head still resting against the window, you see something terrifying.

As soon as my eyes shoot open, I see trees. But the trees are often the distance. Off in the distance, the trees are literally outside of the glass of my window. It's the trees ripping the aircraft apart. There's no time to process what he's seeing. The plane shakes and screeches, screams fill the cabin. Almost instantly, Tom is thrown so hard against the seat in front of him that he loses consciousness.

Everything goes dark. It was over in the briefest of seconds with no one saying anything. It happened so fast. It's just after 10.30 a.m. on Sunday, November the 16th, 2008. On a rocky mountain slope, the wreckage of a small plain smoulders, smoke spilling out into the forested wilderness. The aircraft has been pulverized. It's now a flaming ruin of mangled metal following a devastating collision with the mountainside.

It seems impossible that anyone on board could have survived the high-speed impact. And yet, incredibly, one passenger is still breathing. Tom Wilson's eyes suddenly snap open and agony instantly racks his body. Flames from the burning wreckage of the plane engulf him. searing his flesh. It's not this groggy slumber back into reality or consciousness. It's, I'm on fire. I'm covered head to toe in plane fuel and I'm burning alive.

And I wake up and I've screaming. I can't describe what it feels like to be on fire. But what I can tell you, it's the closest thing to insanity that I've ever experienced. Somehow, Tom's seat remains intact, bolted to the wreckage. It's about the only thing left of the little eight-passenger aircraft. He lurches, desperate to get away from the flames, only to find that he is still strapped in place by his seatbelt. Screaming and flailing, he scrabbles to undo the clip and escape.

I had my wits enough to know that I couldn't get up because of my seatbelt. It's this old aircraft with these big metal clips. the easiest thing in the world. All you have to do is reach down, pull on the metal clip, and release the seatbelt. But I was in so much pain. I was in such a panic, such an override. My body was literally just pulling away from the fires as hard as it could to get away like any animal would. And I was trying to get my seatbelt off, but my hands wouldn't follow the directions of my mind. Tom has just minutes, if not seconds, to escape the burning wreckage before it's too late. Somehow, he finds the mental fortitude he needs to choke down the panic.

I consciously sat up in my chair. I put my hands in the air and I let myself burn. And I let myself burn for just the briefest of seconds just to try and get my stamina, my control, my sanity back enough to hear my hands to listen to me. And so I reach into the fire and I get this clip undone. Tom fumbles and fights until, click, the belt comes loose. Instantly he stands. He is acting on pure instinct as adrenaline pumps through his veins, and he sprints blindly towards the trees. Nothing bars his way.

The violence of the crash has shattered the plane upon impact, providing him with a clear escape route away from the wreckage. It's a small mercy in the circle. I could barely navigate on doing a seatbelt. If there was any other obstacles in my way, there's no way I had the sanity or the control to navigate through them, and I would have died for sure. But running from the wreckage doesn't mean he's escaped the danger or the pain. He has been drenched by gallons of fuel which is feeding the fire that covers his body. Plus, he still has his hoodie pulled over his head.

As he runs, the movement causes the flames to shoot inwards, burning his face. Tom yanks off his hoodie, followed by his shirt. He slaps at the fire that's still devouring his skin and manages to put out the flames that are climbing up his jeans. It's only after he's extinguished everything that he can, that the full extent of his appalling injuries comes to light. no longer on fire, but I have no skin on my face. I have no skin on my hands. My back is burnt, my stomach's burnt. I've got some major gashes. I'm bleeding everywhere. They could smell my own burnt flesh. And I stood there and I screamed. I screamed for longer and harder than I ever thought imaginable. Because there was no sanity. It was literally all just about

the pain. He stands, wearing nothing but his jeans and work boots in the frigid November air. Robbed of any reason or rationality, he continues to yell. He is about 30 meters away from the crash site and facing the forest, and there is a loud explosion behind him. Although he feels the heat and shock waves against his naked back, it barely registers. The only thing that brought the sanity back was exhaustion from screaming. I started to think what the hell just happened.

What about all my friends? What about my crew? And so I staggered back to the wreckage. Eyes clouded, bodies still gripped by pain. Tom manages to stumble his way back. to stumble his way back to the smoldering remains of the aircraft. Back to a site of pure tragedy. Over the course of years, I've become very good at sharing. The one thing that even to this day I've never shared with my psychiatrist,

I've never shared with anyone, is what I found that day, when I went back to the plane crash. And I found my crew, and everyone was dead. And it was just devastating. There was nothing left. It was just, it was so violent. Besides the ruins of the plane, he sobs uncontrollably until his body is racked by exhaustion once more.

This is where my military experience kicked in. And I started to try and figure out, okay, we're in a plane cross. Where am I? I have no idea where I am. It's the matcha or the three ensemble CFOA of the FACTS that I've been to denichy who energize all the time? Mm, it's the ensembles.

The form of standard and mini-regruped, what aben? And the embellage, too beau, who is practically pre-a-donned. And I know that I'd love these offriars, but I guard the Summer Fridays and Rare Beauty by Selena Gomez. Mm-hmm.

I don't know. The most ensemble, the Cadoe of the FADOESCADOES, Rare Beauty, Way, Ciphora Collection, and other part of VIT. Procure you, Corma StonDard-Storma. Remy Mini, regrouped for a better quality of price.

On link on Cephora.C.A. or in Magasen. This November on the Noiser podcast network. On short history of, we'll step beyond the Leonine wall and into Vatican City,

the smallest sovereign state in the world. We'll follow the extraordinary life of Irish writer Oscar Wild and crack befuddling cases with the Pinkerton Detective Agency. On real survival stories, we'll find ourselves marooned on a wild remote fjord in British Columbia,

witness a terrifying lightning strike atop a Wyoming mountain, and watch on as a fearsome typhoon devastates a Pacific lagoon. In Jane Austen's stories, pride and prejudice continues, with a free-spirited Lizzie attending a dinner party

at the grand estate of Lady Catherine, and not exactly making a favourable impression. And, in Sherlock Holmes' short stories, a professor returns from Prague with a mysterious carved box, and a strangely changed personality in The Adventure of the Creeping Man. Get all these shows and more early and ad-free on Noiser Plus. The plane has crashed into the side of a small mountain on South Thormandby Island.

Though only a short distance from the Canadian mainland, it feels far more remote and is virtually uninhabited. But Tom doesn't know all this yet. He takes a steadying breath and assesses the situation. The thick fog surrounding him doesn't offer many clues as to his location, but he can at least make out the densely forested slopes of the mountain. He has two options. Wait at the crash site for someone to come and find him, or climb down the mountain himself and look for help.

Neither is appealing. Tom's burns and cuts are serious enough on their own, but there's no telling yet if he suffered any internal injuries in the crash, or how severe they might be. Whatever the case, he needs medical attention quickly, and it's impossible to know how long it will take for help to come. Added to this is the weather. With severely burnt hands, he can't build a shelter, and his jeans and boots will do little to protect him from the cold. But walking away from the crash site isn't attractive either. In his current condition, every movement is painful.

And battling his way through dense trees when his body is covered in burns promises fresh agony. Besides, he has no clue where he is or how long it will take before he stumbles on civilization. In the end, one factor sways his decision. I decided to leave the wreckage. I had to try and leave the records to go find help because I knew with my military experience that search and rescue wasn't coming. I knew that they would not risk the lives of their personnel to find the conditions that caused us to crash to come find us. Tom scans the smoke-filled clearing created by the crash, searching for the easiest route

down the mountain. The sight is ringed by near impenetrable forest. But the plane has carved a rough avenue through the trees on the eastern side. It looks like the path of least resistance. But that doesn't mean it's going to be easy. I've got no clothes on. I have no skin. So for me to try and climb down the side of my mountain through a forest was a sick, sick game of twister. I couldn't touch anything. I couldn't use my hands. I couldn't do anything. Stela, he has to try.

Carefully, he begins to pick his way down the slope. As he moves, everything is muted, dulled, defined by an eerie silence. All he can hear is his own labored breathing. The foam earplugs he was wearing on the plane have been melted into his ear canals by his burning hoodie. And on top of everything else, he's also lost his glasses, so his vision is impaired. not ideal for scrambling down the side of a rugged mountain it doesn't take long before tom's conviction in his plan is tested you wouldn't even recognize how many tree branches brush against your arm and your hands on a normal hike unless you're in the condition that i was i'm telling you a tree

branch touched my arm i knew about it i screamed about it i couldn't physically use my hands use my hands to move trees out of the way. I'd look five feet ahead and I would have to plan on how I'm going to twist and contort my body to get through that next five feet without actually touching a branch. What would ordinarily have been a fairly easy hike has become a twisted game of three-dimensional chess. He makes some progress for encountering a ledge with a small, steep drop. Normally, he wouldn't give it a second thought. It's something even the most inexperienced hiker could overcome.

But in his current state, it's a major obstacle. Tom manages to squat and sit on his backside. He then wiggles forward to the ledge and starts to shuffle down it. What he hasn't yet realized is that his back is also badly burnt. As soon as I started to wiggle over it, the rocks touched all the burns on my back. And so that shot me forward. And as soon as he shot me forward, I missed the landing. I landed on my hands.

And it took me back to this place of insanity. Just the sheer pain, just the constant pain, the struggle. White hot bolts thunder through him. Eventually, he swallows the pain, struggles to his feet, and continues his battle. As time goes on, the gradient of the slope becomes easier. Tom hits a shallow creek and decides to follow it, hoping it might lead to some sort of sign of life. Somewhere, anywhere, you can find help. Spirits buoyed somewhat by the prospect, he breaks into a light jog, gritting his teeth against the agony that sparks along his synapses with every movement.

Soon, the creek drains into an inlet. Finally, I made it to a shoreline. I still had no idea where I was. I was looking for a culvert. I was looking for a golf course. I was looking for a, you know, a utility shed, anything. I was just looking for help. And so I get to the rocks of the shore, and I realize that I'm on an island. While getting off the mountain has been an enormous achievement, it's instantly undermined by what Tom now sees. Drained, he stands on the shoreline and scans the horizon. There are no boats, no signs of civilization at all, just an empty, endless stretch of sea and sea and sea.

of sea and sky. To his left is a steep wall of rock topped by forest. To his right are shallow cliffs leading to a peninsula of large boulders. It's one hell of a setback, but he can't stand still. If he can get to the tip of the peninsula, he'll increase his chances of being spotted. All he needs is one person to see him. Eventually, Tom begins picking his way across the slippery rocks. He moves slowly, cautiously, aware of the danger.

It's tough going, and soon he is forced to leap between the wet boulders. On his third jump, he loses his footing and falls, scraping his blistered skin against the jagged rocks. His raw hands slap the hard, rough surface, and again he writhes in agony. By the time he reaches the far tip of the peninsula, he's exhausted. Then, as he squints out to sea, something catches his eye. The weather is still not improving, but I'm below the cloud ceiling because I'm at water level. And a couple miles across the bay, I can see houses and I can see boats.

Civilization is just there, just across the water. boats bob and chug on the surface it's been around two and a half hours since the crash and now help is almost mockingly close i started losing my mind like i'm here and i'm flailing my arms i'm just trying to get someone to see me to come and rescue me and it didn't take long to realize that none of the boats were turning towards me

As the boats continued to undulate serenely in the harbor, the hope of rescue ebbs away. Weakened and numb from the biting November wind and the sting of icy saltwater. Tom picks his way back across the boulders and returns to the shelter of the forest to recoup a little. He huddles in the lee of the trees, shivering, trying to prepare himself for another attempt. When he's regained some energy, he heads back out into the elements to try again. The only option I had was to get seen. And so I would go back out on the rocks. And I'd stand there as long as I could and scream and wave.

What's less enthusiasm every time just because Noah was coming. It's a grim routine. over the course of the next two hours he goes back and forth four times with every failed attempt to be seen his hope and his strength fade a little more i'm dying i know i'm dying i know i don't have much time left i'm freezing you know i'm morally wounded every second seemed like a week Get no frills, delivered. Shop the same in-store prices online and enjoy unlimited delivery with PC Express Pass.

Get your first year for $2.50 a month. Learn more at pceexpress.ca. As the day crawls by, one of the most immediate dangers Tom faces is hypothermia. Having endured scorching heat mere hours earlier, It's now the cold that threatens to devour him. His body is shutting down, and it won't be long until sunset. After returning from his fourth expedition along the peninsula,

he decides he has no choice but to head back up the mountain to the crash site. If he can at least huddle next to the smoldering wreckage, he might be able to stave off the cold for a little longer. It could buy him a few more precious hours. It's going to be a hard slog And the prospect of trying to scramble back up That ledge is daunting He forces one foot in front of the other

And begins his long trek back into the trees And then he hears something Even with the melted earplugs Impairing his hearing It doesn't take long to identify the noise I started walking back And I'm about 100 meters in and I hear the distinct sound of a helicopter

and man I was so angry I've been out here for four and a half hours the last two hours I've been on these rocks and all I want is visibility I just want someone to see me and now that I'm under the forested canopy there's a helicopter like now of all times Tom sprints as fast as he can back to the shore But even as he runs, the sound of the helicopter begins to fade.

When he bursts back out of the trees, he urgently scans the sky in the horizon. Cruely, almost like he's being teased, the lifeline has slipped away. And there's no noise. The sound of the helicopter is gone. At that moment in time, I had no fight left. None. It's about 3 p.m., on the eastern shores of South Thornby Island, off the coast of British Columbia. The day is drawing to a close. Within the next couple of hours, the light will fade, leaving Tom alone in the freezing, clawing darkness. His one hope of rescue has just vanished out of sight. I just wanted to die.

I couldn't deal with the pain anymore. I couldn't deal with the emotional trauma anymore. I had no fight left. I just wanted to die. I surrendered. I was so mad at God. I started yelling at him. Why did you punish me?

Why didn't you just take me with everyone else? Why did you have to punish me before you'd kill me on this island anyway? I know what it's like to be lonely. I know what it's like to be overseas and miss your family, miss your friends, miss your home. Not like that kind of lonely. That's the loneliest moment I have ever experienced in my life. I would have given every physical thing I had or ever would have just to say goodbye to my mom.

Just to call my dad and tell them that we had a good run. I'm so lonely and none of my friends got a chance to say goodbye to their family. and I was realizing that I wasn't going to have that chance either. Everyone has a different fail button, fail point. Everyone has a certain amount of stress they can take before they break, before they stop. I experienced that point. It took four and a half hours,

so I fought as hard as I could for as long as I could. But I literally had nothing left. He stands on the lonely shore and gazes up at the empty monochrome sky Then another sound slices through the silence Fate was just so twisted with me that day I'm standing there I want to die I got no fight left

and of course I hear another sound and it's an injunuch except this time it's a zodiac Hope surges in Tom As a small red Zodiac boat rounds the headland to his left, he begins waving and screaming, frantic to catch the crew's attention, desperate not to let another chance of rescue slip away. The Zodiac heads straight towards him. In his excitement, Tom starts wading into the icy sea.

But the saltwater stings his burns so badly that he can't go deeper than his knees. As the boat approaches, he sees. It's manned by a search and rescue team. They ask Tom if anyone else from the plane is alive. He tells them he is the only survivor. It's the first time he's had to say those words out loud. Delicately, the crew lift Tom on board, trying to avoid touching the worst of his injuries.

They lay him down and cover him with fire blankets, then use their bodies to shield him from the biting wind. They gun the engines and head to the mainland. As the realization that he has been rescued begins to sink in, Tom is suddenly overwhelmed by a tidal wave of emotion. Strangely, relief isn't the overriding sensation. It's rage. The whole time, I was screaming at him.

I was yelling at these people about where the hell have you been? And I've been out here for four hours. and the people that were saving my life, I screamed out the whole way across the bay. His rescuers are volunteer coast guards from the nearby town of Seychelt. Tom will later learn that two local hunters on the island heard first the plane crash and then the subsequent explosion. But through the dense wilderness, they couldn't pinpoint where the noises came from. They notified search and rescue. However, at the time, there were no active reports of missing aircraft. So what actually happened was the plane crashed. It was so violent that it destroyed the

locator beacon or any emergency signaling systems in the plane. So therefore Pacific Coastal at the Vancouver airport didn't actually know the plane had crashed. So I was the speck on this island that no one was looking for. It was only when Tom's plane failed to show up at Tobar Inlet, that it became clear something was very wrong, and a rescue operation was launched. When the little zodiac reaches the mainland, it's greeted by a throng of emergency vehicles, media reporters, and onlookers. Tom is loaded into an ambulance, which races him to the local hospital.

As a paramedic starts to check his vital signs and cuts away his remaining clothes, Tom begs for oblivion. I need you to give me the drugs, to just put me to sleep, and my friends are dead. I've never experienced this kind of pain in my life. Just pull me to sleep. Please just put me to sleep.

And he couldn't because he didn't have the license. The paramedic is not permitted to administer the painkillers Tom so desperately needs, and he is forced to endure his excruciating agony for even longer. Eventually, when more medics see to his wounds, he receives some brief relief. After that, everything becomes hazy. Tom is airlifted to Vancouver General Hospital, where he spends three days in intensive care. Then he is flown to a specialist Burns unit in Edmonton to begin the long, painful process of recovery.

Drugs can only do so much to help. The burn ward was relentless. When you have burns, there is no relief from the pain. There's no reprieve. It's constant. And it's for a long, long time. It's not for four and a half hours. It was for months.

Incredibly, he suffered no internal injuries or broken bones during his ordeal. But his burns are another matter. They are so serious, his closest friend struggles to recognize him, as does his own father. Pumped full of morphine, entirely reliant on others, and forced to endure a grueling routine of treatment and physio, Tom has to adapt to a new way of life. I went from being this really important guy

that had succession plans and budgets and flights and meetings and this major career to laying in this bed, I couldn't feed myself, I couldn't go to the bathroom myself, I couldn't change the channel, I couldn't do anything. I literally could not do anything for myself. Everyone was celebrating me. Everyone that saw me, the first thing they did, human nature, oh my God, you're so tough, you're so strong, you're so great. That's not where I was.

The only thing stuck on repeat was all my dead friends. He struggles to come to terms with the cruelty, the senselessness. of the disaster. He could so easily have been in the co-pilot seat rather than the position he eventually took up for the flight. He also blames himself for not speaking up before takeoff. Then one night, when he's recovering

in the burn center, he has a transformative meeting with a priest. I'll never forget these words. This was the turning point of my life. These specific words. He said, it is not your job to understand God's plan. But you've been given it gift. You've been given this gift that you're still alive. And there's a reason for that. And if you can search for and find the reason

that you've been given this gift, it'll make it easier. And then he left. And I never seen that priest again. All of a sudden I had this mission in life to find this gift because if you think about it, it's perspective change. None of the facts changed. I was still in a hospital bed. I still had no skin. I was still in pain. I was still in trauma. But instead of being a victim, I was now thankful. Determined to extract something good from the tragedy, Tom focuses on recovering as he tries to figure out what to do with the gift that he has been given. But it's not easy. And after leaving hospital, he finds it desperately hard to resume his life. I ran away from myself, and this is where I became an addict. I couldn't function. I couldn't live

with myself. And so that was the next eight years of my life. It's a seesaw battle between overwhelming gratitude and overwhelming guilt. Then one day, his psychiatrist suggests he tries writing. Tom is initially skeptical, but he's willing to try anything that might help. Going over the memories is traumatic but cathartic. In time, his reflections become a book, detailing his experience and attempting to unpick the reasons why nobody on board that plane spoke up when they felt unsafe. Slowly, he starts to peace his life back together. I'll never forgive myself. I still carry guilt, but at least now I can live with myself because

I understand my behaviors and I've changed them. These days, Tom is a public speaker who shares his experience with audiences around the world in the hope that it might encourage others to speak up should they ever find themselves in a potentially dangerous situation. He says he puts his survival down to his military experience, His experience, his determination to fight, and his ability to stay calm under pressure. I think that's something my father instilled in me, and the military instilled in me, is to get rid of that panic. Panic is your enemy. As soon as you're starting to panic, you need to stop panicking because it affects your decisions.

I'm at the gift part of my journey. All these struggles, all this stuff that I went through, it changed me. And now I get to share that with others. others so they can share a little bit of my perspective without going through the journey that I did to get there. In 2014, on the sixth anniversary of the accident, Tom returns to South Thornanby Island to meet his rescuers and place a cross of the crash site in memory of the seven who lost their lives. The crash was attributed to the pilot taking off in low visibility. It's believed He strayed off course in the fog and lost control of the aircraft upon hitting the treetops.

For Tom, it's been a long, torturous road, but he is finally in a good place. Now married with two daughters, his priorities have shifted, and he says he has arrived at a place of greater understanding about what it really means to live. My focus was very inward. It was all about me, it was about my career, it was about my, you know, the money I had until the crash and then everything changed right it really changed what's important in life when you see everyone else lose it I think the biggest thing is I don't take things for granted anymore I really don't I put a lot of effort and energy to not taking things for granted and being grateful for what I do have next time on real survival stories

An extreme expedition, an unexpected storm, and an unlikely bolt from the blue, all combined to create the most horrifying of situations. In July of 2003, Rod Liberal is part of a group of rock climbers who set out to summit Grand Teton, the largest mountain in the Teetan range of Wyoming. But during the final ascent, something shocking happens, which changes everything in a flash. Suddenly, Rod finds himself perilously suspended with a deadly drop below. How did he end up here? Why can he barely move? And is there any hope at all? That's next time on real survival stories. Listen right now without adverts by joining Noiser Plus.