Picture Perfect
Ten years ago today I had a “near-death experience” along with a small team of South Africans, when we lost our brakes just after crossing over a 14,700 ft mountain pass in north-central Tibet.
It had been a nearly PERFECT day thus far, and we had already accomplished most of what we had planned to do. The clear blue sky was gorgeous, the sun was shining brightly off the snow fields, and we were heading south over a majestic pass hoping to make it to a few more villages in the valley far below before turning back. I vividly remember our upbeat joy as we chatted, shared testimonies, and listened to worship music.
All Downhill From There
At about 130pm on that Wednesday afternoon in December, we crested the pass and began our descent. As we began to pick up speed on the steep slope, and because there was a curve up ahead, I tapped the brakes to slow down. Unfortunately, the pedal went straight to the floor and I heard and felt some sort of “snap” or release.
No brakes!
I yelled at my now terrified friends to “hang on” as we sped towards the curve ahead.
Knowing the poor track record of my Chinese van’s emergency brake, it never dawned on me to give it a yank, nor did it enter my mind to throw it into first gear in an effort to slow us down.*
Instead, I did what seemed to make the most sense in the split second I had to react: I tried to steer the van into the mountainside on our left (there was a steep drop-off on the right) in order to force enough resistance to slow down and avoid plunging off the mountainside when we got to the upcoming curve.
But instead of actually scraping the van against the mountainside, the left two tires went into the drainage ditch. This did help to slow us down, but when the road (including the ditch) started to turn sharply to the left, our inertia flipped us out and the van rolled diagonally across the highway towards the precipice on the other side.
We did a ¾ roll and eventually skidded to a dusty halt on the gravel shoulder that was now the only thing left between us and where the mountain dropped off thousands of feet below.
*Hindsight is 20/20, as they say, and I would probably react differently if I could do it all over again. However, there are no guarantees that it all would’ve worked out as “well” as it did.
Not Gonna Die
All I remember from when I lost control (as we were “rolling”) was metal scraping and all my fellow passengers shouting their prayers heavenward in Afrikaans. I thought to myself, “They really think we’re going to die!” But I didn’t feel any fear at that moment. I remember (as ridiculous as it sounds) feeling confident that we would be ok. Although I was in shock at what was happening, I never thought we would actually go off the edge.
When we finally came to a stop just a few yards from the point of no return, my head and left shoulder were resting in the dirt and broken glass through the opening that was formerly the driver’s side window. I lay there uncomfortably, hands still tightly gripping the now useless steering wheel, in shock at what had happened.
My co-pilot, who was hanging awkwardly above me by his seat belt, woke me from my momentary stupor, reminding me to turn off the van (the engine was still on) and to quickly get out so that he would have room to extract himself.
As the six of us crawled out of what remained of the van, we were caked in dust but extremely grateful that everyone had come through nearly unscathed, save a few minor cuts and bruises (and sore muscles and joints the next day).
The Aftermath
Amazingly, graciously, although some of the guys were pretty shaken up, none of us were seriously hurt. One guy’s shoulder was hurting pretty bad, but it turned out to be just a bruise. I also discovered many hours later that I had sprained my wrists trying to hold on to the wheel through the entire accident. The four guys who had come from South Africa made us promise not to share what had happened, or post anything online, until after they got home a week or two later and could tell their wives and families first.
As the pics show, the van was heavily damaged in the accident and I decided pretty quick that it was going to stay behind. It would have cost us more to get it towed nearly 700 miles over the Tibetan Plateau to a decent repair shop than it actually was worth. So we spent the next hour or two unloading everything of value from the van and trying to hitchhike our way back to the last town, which was 100 miles away over multiple mountain ranges.
The first vehicle that came by was a pickup truck, so four of the six guys hopped in the open back and began the cold journey. Although it was a sunny day, the temp was in the low 20s, if my memory serves me right. The two of us who remained continued to remove anything of value from the van, including the paperwork and license plates, until a small SUV came by. We were able to hitch a ride in slightly better conditions (ie, inside the cab out of the cold), along with the last of our belongings.
After meeting up with the others and grabbing a hot meal, we hired a large SUV to carry us on to the next town, another four hours away, where we would find proper lodging and (finally!) hot showers where we could get cleaned up. I can’t remember ever being so dirty.
The following day, we managed to get tickets on the overnight bus for the 15+ hour journey back to our home city, arriving safely on the morning of December 31st, nearly 48 hours after our brakes had failed on the pass 700 miles away.
Please note my new email address. Thanks, Ben.
Thank God you all were ok. I flipped my grandpas brand new Monte Carlo back in 2007. I did not have a drop off next to me but still scary so I can only imagine what you were going through.
Wow! God’s hand of protection on you! Thanks for sharing this with us.
Thank God for His protecting hand!! He definitely knows what we need and when we need it. I would have had a little problem getting into another vehicle right after that.