As I left Cathedral Cove, Hot Water Beach and Whitianga, I headed up into the forested hills, hoping for a nice gravel pullout or eventually a beach-side spot for my last night in the great outdoors before heading back to Auckland for my last few days and hoping to sell Willy. I spotted a few nice looking grassy areas along the waterfront just outside of town, but the signs were clear and overnight camping was forbidden, so I stayed away. I hadn't had any problems with my camping spots before, and I didn't want to end up being awoken in the middle of the night by a policeman or park ranger. The small road passed through another tiny town before heading inland a bit and beginning up a sizable hill. As we struggled up the hill, dusk was beginning to set in, and I hoped for a nice pullout at the top of the hill, as there are usually stops or picnic areas at the tops of these large hills, allowing slower cars to pull out or letting people just take a break. Just as I hoped, I rounded the last corner while still moving uphill and saw the familiar sign indicating a picnic area 400 meters ahead, usually a great spot to spend a few minutes or spend the night. I soon pulled into the spot, with a slightly slanted open area large enough for about three cars on top with a picnic table and a tiny patch of grass at the edge and then a semi-circular gravel pullout connecting to the main road there and again about 50 feet down the hill below. I pulled into the top area, which looked like an ideal spot to spend the night, though a little bit unlevel. As I've mentioned before, sleeping on an incline from head to toe isn't too bad, but it's painfully obvious if it's not level from side to side, creating a bit of an annoyance as trying to fall asleep. I've thought about even trying to get a level from a hardware store, as it's really hard to tell how level the van is from the driver's seat without actually experiencing it for yourself in the back. To help this problem, a few times I've parked the car while leaving it on and tried out laying in the bed before turning it off and settling in for the night. Being an older car, I also don't like to restart the car all the time, so I have left it running a few times doing things like this and my numerous photo stops along the gorgeous roads of the country. So, I pulled forward and back, up and down, inching this way and that before positioning the wheels on the most level spot that I could find. My first attempt was alright, as I pulled the parking brake, leaving the van in neutral so that the manual transmission would keep running, but after a few seconds in the back, I could tell that it wouldn't be a comfortable night, so I got up and moved the van again, finding a pretty nice spot on the tiniest of bumps, leveling out the car from side to side, though still slightly downhill.
Again, I pulled the parking brake and went around into the back of the van, hopping onto the bed, laying on one side, then the other, feeling pretty good about the spot. As I was about to get up and turn the van off, I heard two strange creaking noises coming from the back of the car. "Great," I thought, "just as I'm about to sell Willy, he starts making some weird noises that I've never heard before. That will be a great selling point to Jobst," a German guy with whom I've shared a few emails and seems keen to buy Willy when I arrive back in Auckland. Just after that thought crossed my mind, I turned over and looked out the window, only to notice that the trees outside were starting to move. Instantly, I realized that the sounds I had heard were the parking brake squeaking as Willy slowly started to roll down the slight incline. I immediately popped up, and my mind raced as I thought of what to do, everything happening and flying through my mind in one frantic instant. I very, very quickly contemplated trying to jump into the driver's seat through the small opening through the framework and over the middle bench seat, but I knew there wasn't time. Going with my next option, I threw open the sliding door of the van and jumped out as the van rolled slowly, though the heavy vehicle was gaining speed and momentum with every inch traveled. I couldn't believe that the familiar scene from movies and tv could actually be happening to me. As I jumped out of the van, I ran around to the front of the van, momentarily contemplating throwing my hands up and my whole weight into the vehicle to try to stop it, but luckily that fleeting thought was followed by the realization that there would be absolutely no way that I could stop the rolling van by myself, so I continued to run around to the front, right side (driver's side here) of Willy. My heart and mind was racing, and Willy had traveled about 15 feet at this point, just passing by a tiny row of trees and a mound separating the picnic table area from the crescent shaped gravel pullout just below.
I knew I'd need to get to the driver's seat to try to stop the van before it reached the drop-off just on the other side of the gravel pullout. As Willy was passing by the tiny stand of trees, I put my arms forward and burst through the branches, getting a few scratches and bruises that were the least of my concerns at the time. I grabbed the driver's door and got it open just as Willy was passing the edge of the trees, hearing the door scrape against the branches as I took a few running steps alongside the van, while getting the door wide open and contemplating my next move. Again, an ephemeral, foolish thought crossed my mind of jumping in and trying to stop the car from the driver's seat, but I also decided against this one and sized up the interior of the car. I focused on the brake pedal, thought for a nano-second about the decision, and then I plunged headfirst towards the pedal with my hands forward. Grasped tightly together as if giving CPR, my hands hit the brake pedal with all of the weight of my upper body. Willy's strong brakes took hold and brought the van abruptly to a stop, skidding just a bit on the gravel. Luckily, as the van was still running, the power brakes helped stop much quicker than it would have otherwise been able. At the same time, my backpack and Chinese food flew threw the air with their momentum, hitting the dashboard and falling to the floor. I looked up and saw that I had stopped the van just a few feet and less than a second away from the edge of the hill that had been approaching way too quickly. I kept one hand firmly on the brake pedal and pulled the emergency brake back as far as I could before carefully daring to venture into the van. Still in a bit of a precarious position, I backed the van up a bit and then pulled forward, amazingly free of that incredible escapade.
I couldn't believe what had just happened, but I got back in the car and pulled back to the main road below, noticing that I was having much trouble shifting and using the clutch, as my left leg was shaking uncontrollably. I was obviously shaken up, and in the tiny stretch of road between the entrance and exit to the picnic area, I apparently drove very slowly, unaware of anything else, as I noticed someone tailgaiting me as I pulled back into the turnout, but that was the least of my worries. I pulled Willy back into the somewhat flat spot, pulled the brake as hard as possible, put the car in gear and switched it off. The next few minutes were spent with my head in my hands, resting on the steering wheel, replaying the incident over and over in my head, thinking how close I was to completely losing the van. It was my last night out in the woods, having avoided potential trouble for so long, and I couldn't imagine what would have happened if I were just a half second slower or less decisive in reacting. The whole incident took only a few seconds, but it was amazing how much went through my mind and allowed me to save the van in time. Given the poor insurance policy that I found (as short term insurance was harder than expected to find), I don't have coverage on the van, only 3rd party liability, so it would have been a complete loss. Just a few feet from the front of the van, the vegetation of the edge of the hill stood imposingly, and only about 10 or 15 feet stood in between the front of my tires and the edge of a fairly large hill. The hill dropped down at a little more than a 45 degree angle, covered with some small trees that I don't really think would have stopped a van barreling down the hill. It would have been a long way down, perhaps a few hundred feet, to try to find the van, get all of my things out of it, then come back up and try to flag down a random passerby on this isolated road in a dark corner of the area. Over and over and over again, I thought how lucky and unbelievable the whole situation was. I looked back at the skid marks to see how close it actually was, and I thought of how unbelievable the whole event was, so I actually decided to put the van back on top of the skid marks, and I saw that the branches of the trees over the edge were nearly touching the windshield where it had halted to a stop. Carefully pulling the brake and putting the van in gear before turning it off, I gingerly got out and took a few pictures to document the event.
Finally I pulled back around again, and I got out of the van and did eat my dinner which stayed surprisingly intact thanks to the plastic container they gave me, but my mind and heart still raced. I checked the parking brake and that the van was in gear three or four times before trusting myself to go in the back and lay down. As I lay there, I had sensations over and over of Willy starting to roll again, reliving the moment time after time. The dark night and the whole place had an understandably bad vibe after all that had happened, so I soon realized that I wouldn't be getting any sleep at all in that spot. I got back in the driver's seat, and I headed back the 20 minute road to Whitianga, driving very slowly and carefully, trying to get the thoughts of disaster out of my mind. I found a nice motorcamp, took a long shower to cool down, and then I parked in a perfectly flat, safe spot on the grassy plain just across from the beach for just $10 a night - at this point, I would have paid anything to have a safe, secure spot to help forget what had just transpired.
In the morning, I actually drove back North again, having to pass the same pullout. Of course, bordering on an obsession with picture taking, I stopped and checked out the scene in daylight, again placing the van back on top of the skid marks to take a few re-creation pictures and remember how close I was to an unforgettable catastrophe.
Again, I pulled the parking brake and went around into the back of the van, hopping onto the bed, laying on one side, then the other, feeling pretty good about the spot. As I was about to get up and turn the van off, I heard two strange creaking noises coming from the back of the car. "Great," I thought, "just as I'm about to sell Willy, he starts making some weird noises that I've never heard before. That will be a great selling point to Jobst," a German guy with whom I've shared a few emails and seems keen to buy Willy when I arrive back in Auckland. Just after that thought crossed my mind, I turned over and looked out the window, only to notice that the trees outside were starting to move. Instantly, I realized that the sounds I had heard were the parking brake squeaking as Willy slowly started to roll down the slight incline. I immediately popped up, and my mind raced as I thought of what to do, everything happening and flying through my mind in one frantic instant. I very, very quickly contemplated trying to jump into the driver's seat through the small opening through the framework and over the middle bench seat, but I knew there wasn't time. Going with my next option, I threw open the sliding door of the van and jumped out as the van rolled slowly, though the heavy vehicle was gaining speed and momentum with every inch traveled. I couldn't believe that the familiar scene from movies and tv could actually be happening to me. As I jumped out of the van, I ran around to the front of the van, momentarily contemplating throwing my hands up and my whole weight into the vehicle to try to stop it, but luckily that fleeting thought was followed by the realization that there would be absolutely no way that I could stop the rolling van by myself, so I continued to run around to the front, right side (driver's side here) of Willy. My heart and mind was racing, and Willy had traveled about 15 feet at this point, just passing by a tiny row of trees and a mound separating the picnic table area from the crescent shaped gravel pullout just below.
I knew I'd need to get to the driver's seat to try to stop the van before it reached the drop-off just on the other side of the gravel pullout. As Willy was passing by the tiny stand of trees, I put my arms forward and burst through the branches, getting a few scratches and bruises that were the least of my concerns at the time. I grabbed the driver's door and got it open just as Willy was passing the edge of the trees, hearing the door scrape against the branches as I took a few running steps alongside the van, while getting the door wide open and contemplating my next move. Again, an ephemeral, foolish thought crossed my mind of jumping in and trying to stop the car from the driver's seat, but I also decided against this one and sized up the interior of the car. I focused on the brake pedal, thought for a nano-second about the decision, and then I plunged headfirst towards the pedal with my hands forward. Grasped tightly together as if giving CPR, my hands hit the brake pedal with all of the weight of my upper body. Willy's strong brakes took hold and brought the van abruptly to a stop, skidding just a bit on the gravel. Luckily, as the van was still running, the power brakes helped stop much quicker than it would have otherwise been able. At the same time, my backpack and Chinese food flew threw the air with their momentum, hitting the dashboard and falling to the floor. I looked up and saw that I had stopped the van just a few feet and less than a second away from the edge of the hill that had been approaching way too quickly. I kept one hand firmly on the brake pedal and pulled the emergency brake back as far as I could before carefully daring to venture into the van. Still in a bit of a precarious position, I backed the van up a bit and then pulled forward, amazingly free of that incredible escapade.
I couldn't believe what had just happened, but I got back in the car and pulled back to the main road below, noticing that I was having much trouble shifting and using the clutch, as my left leg was shaking uncontrollably. I was obviously shaken up, and in the tiny stretch of road between the entrance and exit to the picnic area, I apparently drove very slowly, unaware of anything else, as I noticed someone tailgaiting me as I pulled back into the turnout, but that was the least of my worries. I pulled Willy back into the somewhat flat spot, pulled the brake as hard as possible, put the car in gear and switched it off. The next few minutes were spent with my head in my hands, resting on the steering wheel, replaying the incident over and over in my head, thinking how close I was to completely losing the van. It was my last night out in the woods, having avoided potential trouble for so long, and I couldn't imagine what would have happened if I were just a half second slower or less decisive in reacting. The whole incident took only a few seconds, but it was amazing how much went through my mind and allowed me to save the van in time. Given the poor insurance policy that I found (as short term insurance was harder than expected to find), I don't have coverage on the van, only 3rd party liability, so it would have been a complete loss. Just a few feet from the front of the van, the vegetation of the edge of the hill stood imposingly, and only about 10 or 15 feet stood in between the front of my tires and the edge of a fairly large hill. The hill dropped down at a little more than a 45 degree angle, covered with some small trees that I don't really think would have stopped a van barreling down the hill. It would have been a long way down, perhaps a few hundred feet, to try to find the van, get all of my things out of it, then come back up and try to flag down a random passerby on this isolated road in a dark corner of the area. Over and over and over again, I thought how lucky and unbelievable the whole situation was. I looked back at the skid marks to see how close it actually was, and I thought of how unbelievable the whole event was, so I actually decided to put the van back on top of the skid marks, and I saw that the branches of the trees over the edge were nearly touching the windshield where it had halted to a stop. Carefully pulling the brake and putting the van in gear before turning it off, I gingerly got out and took a few pictures to document the event.
Finally I pulled back around again, and I got out of the van and did eat my dinner which stayed surprisingly intact thanks to the plastic container they gave me, but my mind and heart still raced. I checked the parking brake and that the van was in gear three or four times before trusting myself to go in the back and lay down. As I lay there, I had sensations over and over of Willy starting to roll again, reliving the moment time after time. The dark night and the whole place had an understandably bad vibe after all that had happened, so I soon realized that I wouldn't be getting any sleep at all in that spot. I got back in the driver's seat, and I headed back the 20 minute road to Whitianga, driving very slowly and carefully, trying to get the thoughts of disaster out of my mind. I found a nice motorcamp, took a long shower to cool down, and then I parked in a perfectly flat, safe spot on the grassy plain just across from the beach for just $10 a night - at this point, I would have paid anything to have a safe, secure spot to help forget what had just transpired.
In the morning, I actually drove back North again, having to pass the same pullout. Of course, bordering on an obsession with picture taking, I stopped and checked out the scene in daylight, again placing the van back on top of the skid marks to take a few re-creation pictures and remember how close I was to an unforgettable catastrophe.
(The site of the incident - the rest area just off the road, with the gravel turnout along the right side where the van almost slid off)
(Willy in the first spot, before starting to roll. Note the small trees in the center of the picture and the edge of the hill to the left.)
(Willy's stopping point, quite close to the edge of the gravel pullout)
(I didn't have much room or time to spare when I stopped Willy)
(With the door opened, I dove in and pushed the brake with all of my strength, stopping right there)
(One more shot of the scene, re-created the next morning for a few more pictures)
1 comments:
Wow. This reminds me of something out of the movies. Remind me to tell you the story of when we thought we could push Fabienne's accord up the driveway of Georgia drive. Ethan bailed, I almost got run over, and fortunately Fabienne was quick (like you) and jumped back in the car and hit the brake.
I particularly am fond of your description of your reaction after the incident. You must have had a ton of adrenaline pumping.
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