Real Survival Stories - Trapped in the Tropics: Stranger to Saviour

Episode Date: August 20, 2025

A chance encounter with an enigmatic stranger presents Warren Macdonald with the adventure opportunity of a lifetime. But deep in Queensland’s Hinchinbrook Island, a bizarre accident changes everything. Smashed to pieces and immobilised, Warren has to pin all his hopes on a man he only met the day before. And trapped in a streambed in excruciating pain, with water rising around him, the odds are not on his side…   A Noiser podcast production. Hosted by John Hopkins.   Written by Chris McDonald | 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

Book club on Monday. Gym on Tuesday. Date night on Wednesday. Out on the town on Thursday. Quiet night in on Friday. It's good to have a routine. And it's good for your eyes too. Because with regular comprehensive eye exams at Specsavers,

you'll know just how healthy they are. Visit Spexsavers.cavers.cai to book your next eye exam. Eye exams provided by independent optometrists. It's just after 8 p.m. on Wednesday, April 9th, 1997. Darkness is folding over Hinchinbrook Island, a rugged, rainforested outcrop of the coast of Queensland, Australia. The wilderness pulses with life. Frog croaks bounce from tree to tree. Insects hum incessantly. In the dense undergrowth, something larger, something unseen, crashes through the foliage.

The last traces of twilight fade behind Mount Bowen, the island's tallest peak, casting the jungle below into shadow. And near its summit, there is the sound of human footsteps, stumbling through the dwindling light. 32-year-old Warren MacDonald is searching for a place to answer nature's call. Growing up spending a lot of time in the bush, the rule is you don't take a leak right into your water supply. His makeshift camp is pitched beside a narrow stream, and Warren knows better than to risk contamination of his drinking water. But bordered by impenetrable jungle on one side and a stony creek bed on the other, choices are limited.

The only option is dead ahead, a natural stone wall rising about 14 feet. feet its top hidden in shadow. I figured that if I get up and over that there'll be somewhere up there that I'll be able to find that it'll be far enough away. Warren steps up to the wall and lays his hands on the rock face. His fingers dance over the cold coarse granite searching for handholds. After dismissing a few he finds a contender for his left hand. It feels solid. Reaching high with his right he soon locates another good anchor point he tests their strength to ensure they'll take his weight he breathes out slowly then bends his

left leg and begins to push himself up and then a terrible noise echoes through the forest I just heard this almighty crack as basically the world gave way I absolutely slammed me back down into that creek bed and the next thing I knew, I'm just in this world of pain. Ever wondered what you would do when disaster strikes? Welcome to real survival stories. These are the astonishing tales of ordinary people thrown into extraordinary situations. People suddenly forced to fight for their lives.

In this episode, we meet Warren MacDonald. In April 1997, while relaxing on Hinchinbrook Island, a chance encounter presents him with the opportunity of a lifetime, a chance to scale the island's highest peak, Mount Bowen. As an adventure enthusiast and yes man, It's not long before Warren is high up in the wilderness of the island. But then, near the summit, just as he is bedding down for the night, a bizarre accident changes everything.

There's probably a second or two that's gone from memory. It was never really there while I was in the air. The next thing I knew is, yeah, we hit the ground together and just I had this incredible grinding, burning pain down into my legs. Smashed to pieces and immobilized, Warren has to pin all his hopes on a man he only met the day before and trapped in a stream bed

in excruciating pain with water rising around him the odds are not on his side I would psych myself up but could only really hold that for so long and then I would come crashing down on the other side and nope you're done you're done they're going to find you dead here in a couple days

I'm John Hopkins from the Noiser Podcast Network this is real survival stories It's late morning on Tuesday, April 8th, 1997. Hinchinbrook Island, just off the coast of Queensland, Australia, is a truly wild place. The coastline is a ribbon of golden beaches, lapped by impossibly clear turquoise waters.

Towering granite peaks loom inland, their slopes veiled in thick tropical greenery, while waterfalls tumble into hidden gullies and rock pools. With no hotels or hostels, and visited by just 7,000 tourists a year, Hinchinbrook attracts two types of people, day-trippers and adventure lovers. 32-year-old Warren McDonald falls into the second category. As a boat pulls up to shore, Warren steps off behind a small group of visitors.

While the others veer off towards the nearest beach they can find, he shoulders his pack and heads to the coastal path in search of something a little more private. As he traverses the cliff sides, the ocean stretches endlessly towards the horizon. In land, Mount Bowen, the island's highest peak, is a silhouette against a vast sapphire sky. By late afternoon, Warren arrives at Little Ramsey Bay on the east side of the island. The beach is secluded, silent except for the rhythmic crash of waves. He sets his pack down, strips off, and wades into the sea for a refreshing swim. For Warren, leaving everything behind and vanishing into the wild for a few days, isn't unusual.

From a young age, he enjoyed escaping the house and running free. I grew up in Melbourne, western suburbs. We were on a pretty long chain. I don't think mum or dad had any clue where we were as we were growing up as kids. and I think that held me in pretty good stead for some of the things I would go through eventually. Rather than curtailing his youthful curiosity and energy, at school his adventurous spirit was encouraged.

We got sent to do an outward-bound style course. It's mostly for kids and teenagers where you take them out into the woods or out on a lake or a river or whatever on a wilderness-type expedition to build character is really what it's all about. Part of the course included a daunting solo hike. It was during this excursion,

alone under the endless skies that Warren had an experience that would change his life. I had this feeling that I came to call the connection and it almost felt like being electrocuted. I've never been a religious person, but it felt like at this full-blown spiritual experience where at the same time felt infinitesimally small and yet part of everything. It was just a wild, wild feeling. And it's a feeling he will chase his whole life.

Though as adulthood hit, his adventures inevitably became less frequent, at least for a while. Faced with rent, bills and responsibilities, he took a job at a local gas company. One afternoon, sitting under the harsh fluorescent lights in the office with the veteran employees, he had an epiphany. At one point I remember thinking, wow, there's guys around me that have been here for 30 years and I just can't imagine that. So I started to think that this was maybe not for me. me.

An escape route presented itself. Some friends were planning a trip to the US to spend a couple of months state hopping. I thought, yeah, that sounds like what I need to do. So I asked the boss for some time off, he wasn't keen. I asked him for less time off, he still wasn't keen. I said, OK, fair enough, I'm out. The American trip ignited Warren's love of travel. Journeys through Europe and Africa followed, before he eventually had to return home to Australia.

Up in Queensland, he began a painting and decorating business in the idyllic wit Sundays, a postcard perfect chain of islands fringed with white sand and coral reefs. He threw himself into work, and just as much into partying. Long nights, heavy drinking, and a fast-paced lifestyle became the norm. eventually though it caught up with him and Warren found himself longing for a detox a chance to get back out into nature to chase the connection again the natural splendor of nearby Hinch in Brook Island looked like just the ticket now bobbing in the crystal clear waters of little Ramsey Bay salt on his skin and the sun on his

the trip already feels like it's working wonders. And it's only day one. I'd known about Hinch and Brook for a fair while. It's pretty well known in bushwalking or hiking circles as a pretty wild place. It's not a long way off the coast, but when you make that crossing across the channel, it's almost like going into Jurassic Park.

My plan is to spend five or six days hiking the length of the island along a trail called the Thosbourne Trail down to the southern end where I'd get picked up by another fairy and call it good. Warren towels off before settling in the shade under the broad leaves of the colour phylum trees that lie in the dunes. As he lies back, leaning his elbows into the sand, he sees he has company. I'm not alone on the beach there's one other guy he's sitting cross-legged under a tree

got a bandana on his head sarong around his waist and he's got a sketch pad out he's kind of sketch pad out he's kind of sketching the scene over the ocean there Warren leaves the stranger to his doodling and begins setting up his camp by the time he's done the man has finished sketching Warren wanders over to say hello With a friendly smile, the man introduces himself as Gert van Kuhlen from the Netherlands.

He's here on Hinchenbrook with one goal to scale Mount Bowen. The mountain looms in the distance, rising to over 1,000 metres. It's an intimidating, enthralling sight. I'd read a little bit about it. There's no marked trail, a bit of bush waking to get up there, and I thought, I thought, ah, yeah, it probably looks cool, but it's not the kind of thing you'd want to do on your own. And so Gets telling me about his plan, he's got some trail notes, and I thought, do you know what? With the two of us, yeah, I reckon this could go.

And so he asked me if I wanted to come, and I said, absolutely, let's do it. How can you get even more of everything you love about Porter with the new BEMOVI. MasterCard. Enjoy more freedom, more flexibility, more rewards, more of all the things you love. Need I say more? Get your ticket to more with the new BMO ViPorter MasterCard and get up to $2,400 in value in your first 13 months. Terms and conditions apply. Visit bemo.com slash the iPorter to learn more. Why just survive back to school when you can thrive by creating a space that does it all? for you, no matter the size. Whether you're taking over your parents' basement or moving to campus, IKEA has hundreds of design ideas and affordable options to complement any budget. After all,

you're in your small space era. It's time to own it. Shop now at IKEA.ca.ca. eat a quick breakfast, and then set off, eager to get started. With only it gets trail notes to guide them, they shoulder their packs, cross the lagoon behind their camp, and start moving inland. At first, the going is easy. A controlled fire has recently cleared much of the undergrowth, creating a natural throughway. Next, the men follow a creek path, gentle at first, but it soon becomes steeper. Pebbles become rocks.

which become boulders, creating a sharp, jagged obstacle course to navigate. And so you end up kind of boulder hopping, and when that doesn't work, you have to take off into the rainforest and bushwhack your way through. I think it's fair to call it jungle in places. You know, it's pretty thick. Progress slows. The colourful tropical vegetation encroaches on all sides like an impenetrable wall.

frequently they are forced back to the creek bed to contend with the boulders again jutting rocks slick with water more than once geert loses his balance falling and scraping his knees and palms warren though is in his element he bounds from one rock to the next with an easy grace before long he's having to wait for geert to catch up all in all it's raining work. And as they climb ever higher, something starts to feel off. Eventually we get to the point where it's like, huh, there's a couple landmarks that we haven't seen yet. Trail moats mentioned a campsite and it's like, well, there's nothing that really looks like any kind of a campsite where we are. So we started to have this feeling that, huh, maybe we're not exactly where we are supposed to be. As the sun begins to dip behind the island's peak, it's

evident the men have strayed away from the course. There is nowhere to pitch their camp, no flat ground, nowhere to hang their tarp for shelter. With nightfall closing in, their new priority is simple, to find somewhere they can sleep. After struggling on for another half a kilometre, they stumble upon a large slab of rock, flat, exposed, but usable. A stream bed runs along one side, with an imposing rock wall above it. dense jungle looms behind. It's far from ideal, but it'll do. After making camp and eating a quick evening meal,

the men are ready to call it a day. By 8 p.m., exhausted, Gertzips himself into a sleeping bag and bunches his fleece beneath his head. Warren lingers by the edge of the camp. He'll turn in soon enough. But first, there's something he needs to do. Geert got into his sleeping bag. I was just about to get into mine

when I thought, well, hang on a minute. Before I do that, I need to take a leak. And growing up, spending a lot of time in the bush, the rule is you don't take a leak right into your water supply. You should move. It depends on who you talk to, 50 or 100 feet, away from your water supply. Right now for Warren, that's easier said than done.

Hemmed in by stream bed and jungle, there aren't many options available to him. But there is one. I just made my way across to a 12 or 14 foot rock wall, and I figured that if I get up and over that, there'll be somewhere up there that I'll be able to find that'll be far enough away. You know, it might not be as far as I want to be away, but it'll be far enough. In near darkness, he feels along the granite face, fingers probing narrow fissures until they close around a solid hold. He tests his grip twice, then reaches up with his right hand, searching for another.

Steadying himself, Warren pushes himself onto the wall with his left leg. And that's when I just heard this almighty crack as basically the world. gave way. For a few seconds, time seems to stall. Warren is airborne, almost weightless as his body comes loose from the rock face. Then he crashes back down to Earth. I figured out pretty quick that what had happened is that that wall was made up of a series of slabs of rock and me putting my weight onto that piece just broke it loose and it just

came down absolutely slammed to me back down into that creek bed the next thing i knew is yeah we hit the ground together and just i had this incredible grinding burning pain down into my legs is what turned out to be one ton of rock just settled into my lap panic and pain surge through him he thrashes trying to wriggle free, but the enormous rock slab has impinned in place. A scream tears from his throat as flesh is sheared away. Within seconds, a beam of light slices through the gloom. Gert appears at the edge of the streambed, torchlight sweeping across the scene. Gert is just, you know, heard the commotion come running across to this scene of me pinned from the hips down,

underneath this massive piece of rock and things got pretty crazy at that point. Without hesitation, Geert leaps into the stream. He throws his shoulder against the slab, pushing with everything he has, trying to force it off Warren's legs. His feet slip on the wet rock beneath him, splashing in the shallow water. He grits his teeth and keeps pushing until Warren screams at him to stop. The boulder's tiny movements are grinding against his legs, causing unfathomable pain.

They pause and then try again, but the result is the same. Amid the chaos, something shifts in Warren. I don't know if it happened instantly, but I kind of felt this calm come over me where it was like, we're going to slow things down, all right, we're going to slow this right down. And it was funny, I actually started giving gear directions. It was almost like I'm running the show under the rock, it was pretty bizarre. Clearly, using brute force is not an option.

They need to try something else. Warren, in his oddly composed state, has a suggestion. We need a lever. We've got to get a lever under this end of this corner of this rock to see if there's any way we can just get some of the pressure off. So he goes into the bush, comes back with a branch off a tree, gets in under the rock beside me, Put some weight on it and just snaps like a twig and it's like, yeah, okay, that's not going to work.

Still, it's an idea worth pursuing. They just need a sturdier tool. Gert disappears into the jungle once more, a knife in hand. Time drags, with Warren unable to track its passing. Eventually, a shaft of light cuts through the trees, and Gertreeper, appears at the edge of the stream bed hauling a small tree trunk. It's thicker and longer than the branch they tried earlier. Carefully, he maneuvers it under the boulder, avoiding Warren's legs. Adjusting the angle for maximum leverage, he braces himself and heaves down with all his might.

Concurrently, Warren tries to slide back a few centimeters. The boulder barely shifts, and whatever minuscule movement there is, sends a fresh wave of agony through Warren. Then, with a sharp crack, the trunk breaks in two. That's when I knew I was in serious trouble. And that's when things went from bad to worse when I felt the first few drops of rain. At first, it's little more than a fine drizzle, barely noticeable.

But within minutes, The sky splits open. Sheets of water hammer down from the dark clouds above, drenching the forest in a relentless downpour. I noticed that the water level in the creek was starting to come up. So when I had fallen, my ass was barely in the water. It was kind of just in the water. Like I said, there's a pretty low-volume stream. But over the next couple of hours, that came up and up and up until eventually I had this raging torrent around my waist.

and start up to think of things like, what are you going to do when that water level goes over your head? The only way I can describe that, what that felt like was sheer terror, really. Because I could see the high water mark on the bank and it was over my head. In an attempt to hold back the rising pool of water, Gert constructs a dam from loose stones, trying to create some kind of barrier around his trapped companion. It makes little difference.

Here then helps Warren into a sitting position, placing branches behind his back and arranging them into a makeshift support to keep him upright and comfortable. Well, as comfortable as he can be. Then, to stave off hypothermia, he wraps Warren's top half tightly in his sleeping bag and pulls socks over his hands as makeshift gloves. The two men take a beat and try to come up with some other solutions. We started throwing a whole bunch of other stuff at it. He started piling up rocks underneath that corner of the rock I was under and then left space so that we could get a kind of a wedge-shaped stone in there, something that we could bang in with another rock to try and wedge the thing up,

but just, yeah, everything we threw at it, nothing was working. As midnight edges closer, the situation becomes more and more hopeless. They've done everything they can and made zero program. They must change tack. We can't get me out from under this thing and we can't lift this thing. And so we decided that the only way I was coming out was for Geert to hike out, right? That he's got to hike out and we've got to organise a rescue. It's a plan laden with risk, but it's the only viable plan they have.

Gert cannot trapes back through the jungle in the middle of the night. It's too dangerous. dangerous, so he'll have to wait for first light before setting off. Until then, anything could happen. There's no knowing how badly injured Warren's left leg is. The rock obscures much of his lower half, for all they know, he could be bleeding out. And if it's not blood loss that kills him, the continuing torrential downpour could. The steadily filling creek is now around his midriff. for hours they try in vain to get some rest every few minutes gert calls out to warren checking he's holding on the night crawls wet cold endless until finally something changes the rain begins to ease then it stops entirely a small mercy

The threat of drowning has receded, for now at least. Absolutely the longest night of my life, just waiting for the sun to come up. It's Thursday, April the 10th. The first pale light has barely begun to spread across the sky, but Gert is already on the move. He flits around the camp. flits around the camp, packing up his gear. Then he carefully selects any belongings Warren might need, placing them in plastic bags,

a torch, a first aid kit, some food, a mug, a tarpaulin, a notebook, and pen. It's time to say farewell. Gert gives Warren a hug. It's a strange, strained goodbye. They've known each other for little more than a day. And yet Warren's life is now in Gert's hands. Total stranger, the potential saviour, in just 24 hours.

Then he was off and I think that, you know, hugging him goodbye and watching him head back down the mountain, I never felt so alone because I knew I was there for another day. It's going to take him a while to get out and by the time anybody gets in, yeah, I'm here for another day for sure. And so really I just settled in to do the only thing that I could do and that was wait. Alone, Warren eats some of the dried fruit get left for him. Quickly restless, he grabbed some stones and wedges them under the boulder once more. It's almost certainly futile, but at least it keeps them occupied. In fact, it has an energizing effect.

Next, he hacks at the boulder with a rock, striking again and again, sweats. slicking his skin. Water laps at his waist, creeping under his coat. The cold gnaws at him. The hours slither by. His leg throbs, the pain constant. At the start of this trip, Warren was desperate to get back into nature. Now he cannot escape it.

At one point, it occurred to me that here I was, trapped under this one-ton boulder. And what had I been doing? I'd been chasing this feeling of connection. I remember thinking, is this connected enough for you? You know, it was like, is this what you've been looking for? It started to occur to me that I might not make it. In some ways, I thought you've had a pretty good life. I was 32 years old. I'd done a lot. I felt like I'd lived a couple of lifetimes. And in another sense, it was like, well, that's it. Game over. There's all these things that you don't get to do. That afternoon, after plenty of soul searching, a faint hum breaks through the silence.

Quiet at first, but it grows louder. Warren cranes his neck towards the sky. He spots a glint of metal, a plane. Without a second thought, he snatches the tarpaulin and lifts it into the air, waving it frantically. Surely someone will see it. A pilot or a passenger will notice the flash of blue against the green of the jungle. But the plane comes and goes. It shrinks to a dot, then disappears from view completely.

In a cruel, torment, numerous aircraft pass overhead during the course of the day. I felt like aircraft were close enough that if they were looking for me, they might see something, but yeah, it was all to no avail. Seconds stretch out into what feel like ours. The jungle grows black again. Under the pain and pressure of the boulder, Warren is utterly exhausted. His eyes close.

Again and again his head droops Until he jerks himself awake Sleeping through this is probably not the best idea Because at one point I started to feel like If you go to sleep he might not wake up So then it became about trying to keep myself awake But again and you know I just kept drifting off And I was having all kinds of weird hallucinations

And it was really starting to lose it It was really through that night That things started to go downhill I started to feel really unwell told afterwards that it was a lot of just toxins building up in my body from from my legs being crushed I was in really really bad shape it's Friday April the 11th morning breaks morning breaks over the Australian wilderness soft light spilling across the stream bed.

In his state of flux between sleep and wakefulness, Warren stirs. His body aches, his mouth is dry, and his situation remains unchanged. He has been trapped for around 34 hours. The sun continues to rise, arcing through the vast sky, and there is still no sign of rescue. It's now that Warren turns to his notebook. Eventually I found myself pulling that out and I wrote notes to a few different people that I didn't think I was going to see again.

That was a really cathartic in a way process to go through. And probably the best way to describe it is I kind of rode between a feeling of acceptance that I might not make it and then the opposing feeling of pushing back and it's like, dude, you're hanging in there, you're getting through this. And so I would psych myself up.

But it could only really hold that for so long and then I would come crashing down on the other side. Nob, you're done. You're done. They're going to find you dead here in a couple days. Stowing the notebook with his final messages inside the bag, Warren glances down at his right leg. The skin is grey now, mottled with green spots.

But it's not the discolouration that catches his eye. A vivid splash of blood pools on the rock beneath him. It's not clear where it's coming from. Then, movement, a flicker near his foot. The shape is instantly recognisable, a freshwater lobster. It seems it's been nibbling on Warren's foot, without him realizing. As it scuttles forward for another bite, Warren grabs a branch and lunges. He misses.

Cursing, he shrugs off his shirt, threads it over the end of another stick, and maneuvers it towards his injured foot. Using the stick as a tool, he drapes the shirt on top of his bleeding extremity and tries to wrap it as best he can, hoping the layer of cotton will be enough to keep the crustacean at bay. But the fact that all this happened, without him feeling a thing, is more than a little alarming. The way I was trapped, I could actually see down my right leg.

I could see my foot, and at one point I realised that it didn't look very good. And it crossed my mind that I could lose that foot, but I actually I just push that thought out it's like dude don't go there you get enough to worry about and so I did

I literally just shut it out didn't think didn't give it any more thought on top of the trauma to his legs his left hand is now becoming claw-like the cold causing the fingers to curl into the palm he can't feel his right hand at all

his eyelids feel too heavy to hold open And just when it seems the day will vanish into another hopeless night Perhaps his last He hears something It was pretty late into that second day That I heard

It's still my favourite sound the sound of a helicopter heading directly towards me. I don't think I'd ever been so happy to see not just a heli, but just any kind of sign of life at all. The helicopter darts like a dragonfly, tail glinting in the shards of dying daylight. It hovers above as Warren thrashes the blue tarp with every ounce of strength he has left.

He screams until his throat is roar, his cries lost in the roar of the rotor blades, Then the helicopter's nose tips downward, and it veers away, banking towards one of the island's distant summits. It flew straight over the top and then disappeared. I was like, Christ, I hope they, you know, I really hope they've seen me, but I didn't really know. Time slows back down to a crawl as Warren waits, desperate for any sign that he's been noticed. at last the sound returns

he's still crushed trapped but it's like a great weight has been lifted it was probably about half an hour maybe 45 minutes later that I heard it coming back and hovering just down the creek from me and this time it was like yep okay they've seen me It's evening on Friday, April the 11th.

A helicopter hovers above a clearing near the summit of Mount Bowen. The blades whirl in a fierce blur, whipping up a swirling dust storm that stings Warren's eyes down on the ground. But he doesn't look away as a figure is lowered from the chopper. Next thing I know is I see this guy walking up towards me, towards me and I'm pretty damn happy to see somebody and to have somebody there. In an American accent, the man introduces himself as Dr. Chip Jaffers. Lowering himself to Warren's level, the doc assesses the patient.

His blood pressure is dangerously low due to a combination of dehydration and shock. Chip inserts a cannular into Warren's arm and within moments morphine begins to flow through the line. As the pain dulls, two more men join, hauling rescue equipment. A couple of other guys from the rescue crew, Danny Portofay and Bill Johnson turn up and start to figure out on how they're going to get me out. After a brief discussion, they settle on a plan. Bill carefully wedges a jack beneath the boulder's right side. while Danny slides a crowbar between the ground and the left edge. Before they started, Chip had given me a huge shot of adrenaline

to get my heart cranking or really pumping so that as the toxins that are built up in my legs get released as the pressure comes off, that that wouldn't just shut my internal organs down. Chip gives his colleagues a nod. Bill starts pumping on the jack while Danny levers the boulder with a crowbar. The crushing weight eases off Warren's legs immediately.

They work slowly, each movement carefully considered. When the jack has reached its highest position, Bill slides a wooden chalk into place to take the boulder's weight. Then he moves the jack to the other side and continues to pump. Warren fades in and out of consciousness, as over the course of two hours, the boulder is raised to around 20 centimetres off the ground. Now comes the riskiest part of the whole operation. One slip, one nudge in the wrong place, could send the boulder tumbling.

Carefully, Danny crouches behind Warren, locking his arms around his waist. On the count of three, he drags Warren backwards as gently as he can. Finally, Warren's legs are clear, and he's secured to a stretcher. Someone speaks into a radio, and moments later, the helicopter roars back into view. Warren is attached to a cable and winched heavenwood. The rescue mission is a success. The wilderness recedes behind him, and the relief is incalculable. but he's not out of the woods yet.

Chip told me afterwards that he actually thought I was dead. He said, you know, you were grey and, yeah, I was in a bad way. It's 8.40pm on Friday, April the 11th. A helicopter touches down at Cairns Base Hospital, nearly 200 kilometres from the scene of the accident. As the rotus come to a stop, Warren is lowered out of the craft on his stretcher. As smoothly as possible, he is wheeled through the doors of the hospital and handed over to the medics. I had a team of doctors and nurses start to run all kinds of tests on me. And those tests basically consisted of, can you feel this? Can you feel that? You know,

they're kind of scratching up my legs, running all kinds of different things down them. And the reality was I wasn't feeling much at all. The guy by the name of Bill Clark comes in, introduces himself as a surgeon. Easily the most softly spoken man I've ever had a conversation with. He says to me, he says, you know, Warren, I think you realize your legs have been badly damaged. And I said, yeah, I do. And he says, I hate to be the one to tell you this, but we're going to have to amputate them. And it was that one word, them, that just ripped something out of my guts.

And, yeah, cried myself to sleep and woke up the following afternoon into pretty much a whole new world. After the amputations, Warren spends the next 10 days in intensive care. he undergoes five further operations and is monitored around the clock eventually he's stable enough to be moved to another ward it's there at last that he's reunited with gerd and begins to understand the full extent of what his new friend went through to save him battling over sharp slippery boulders and through harsh unforgiving jungle he had a really tough time going down

got really beaten up by the time he got down to the beach and raised the alarm he had a hell of a hell of an ordeal him finding out that I'd lost my legs was just a real shock to him he went through a really hard time

with survivor guilt over the whole experience that really took years I think for me to convince him that he saved my life as the days pass warren's body begins the slow process of healing the accident has left him with life-altering injuries both legs amputated above the knee and a shattered pelvis due to the latter injury the nurses have to roll him onto his side in order to change his bed even this movement is unbearably painful above his bed hangs a metal frame

a simple support bar within his reach if he leans forward just enough at first he can only grasp it for a second or two before collapsing backwards panting and sweating with practice though he finds he can hold on for longer and longer eventually he's able to lift himself ever so slightly from the bed now when the sheets knee changing he simply pulls himself clear using the bar It's a tiny manoeuvre, but it feels like a momentous achievement following such significant surgery.

An achievement, Warren, is eager to use as a springboard. I started to think about what the hell does this mean. What kind of life can somebody possibly have with no legs? Because, you know, I was kind of like most people, disability just wasn't part of my world. I didn't know anybody at any kind of disability at all, really. So it just became a matter of figuring it out. Like, you know, how am I going to do this? When Warren finally leaves hospital,

the challenges of his new reality quickly become apparent. You leave the hospital. You've got curb cuts and stuff, and it's really hard to get around in a wheelchair like that in the beginning. But every time I would overcome something, it would kind of bolster me up. I'd sit up a bit higher, a bit taller, and eventually I got to this point where I actually started looking for obstacles. It was a real turning point. With this attitude, Warren takes his first steps on prosthetics just 10 weeks after losing his

legs. And after that, a series of milestones follow. A few months after the accident, he and a friend leave the city for Whippoorfield National Park. There, Warren navigates his wheelchair three miles over rugged terrain. In January 1998, he completes the 1.2 kilometer pier to pub swim in Lawn, Victoria. But even this is only a warm-up for what comes next. A few weeks later, he sets his sights even higher on a 1,500-meter peak in Tasmania. eventually found myself on top of Cradle Mountain, which was really, really emotional. It was almost like I reclaimed this massive part of my life in getting back into, you know, not the wildest place on the planet, but a pretty wild place. And just sitting up on top of that

mountain with really close friends, it felt like I was back. It won't be the last summit he reaches. In 2003, Warren makes history, becoming the first double above the knee amputee to scale Kilimanjaro, Africa's highest peak. The biggest key is resilience for me, and the way I like to put it is resilience is a little bit like a bank account. So I always recommend that we have a resilience practice, and all that is that we get in the habit of doing hard things, that we don't shy away from doing hard things, because every time we do something hard, it's like we make a deposit into our resilience account. And then when you need to draw on it, you've only got what you've got.

Warren's tough mindset fortified him during his near-death experience and guided him through his recovery. But he is clear that first and foremost, he owes get a huge debt of gratitude, a man who went from stranger to brother. He did an incredible job under really hard circumstances is to get out in one piece and raise the alarm, I wouldn't be here otherwise. In the following years, Warren and Gert stay in touch, their relationship now an unbreakable bond. Geert, ever the free spirit, is hard to pin down.

But they do make one important trip together. In 2017, on the 20th anniversary of the accident, the two men travelled back to the island, along with rescuer Dr Chip Jaffers. Then, while up in Queensland, Warren manages to track down Bill Clark, the surgeon who operated on him. It was a pretty interesting experience, being back on the island. There was a lot to unpack there.

Bill, you know, he's obviously, he's older now, he's retired, and we sit down and we have a meal, and we're chatting away. And at one point he says to me, I have to tell you this, but doing your surgery that night that you came in, that was absolutely the worst night of my career, having to amputate the legs of a 32-year-old man. And, you know, that was kind of a bit of a show-stopper. I said it worked out that what you did saved my life. So, you know, it might have been the worst day of your career,

but it was a lifeline for me that led to a life. a pretty incredible life. So it was amazing to get the opportunity to tell him that because it had obviously weighed really heavily on him. It was an amazing meeting that kind of closed the book, if you like, of that whole whole ordeal. Next time on real survival stories, we meet Viral Dala.

In early 2001, Viral, a master's student studying in the US, travels back to India to visit loved ones. It's a welcome break from his studies. But on the morning of January 26th, this time of joy is interrupted violently and suddenly by a devastating high-magnitude earthquake. Viral will find himself trapped in a coffin-sized air pocket beneath the rubble. As the hours turn into days, he will cling on to perhaps. the most powerful motivation there is, the promise of seeing his family again. That's next time on Real Survival Stories.

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