Best moment(s) from 2010?

Hours pass and we find ourselves at the outskirts of Kamloops on Highway 1 and in serious need of a good leg stretch. Suddenly, a cloud of dust billows up from the far edge of the oncoming lane; directly to our left. Dad slows down and I sit up in my seat. We watch as a silver vehicle catapults from the dust and launches high into the air. The car’s front end points toward the sky and for an instant we see its full underbody before it spirals around 360 degrees in mid-air. It was like watching a stunt from some blockbuster movie (a 3D movie!). The driver must have lost control and veered off the road and into the steep ditch that lines the highway. In a last-“ditch” effort to correct his mistake he turned HARD back toward the road, but at that kind of speed the trench acted as a dusty stunt ramp and they were cleared for take-off. Luckily, it is only a single car accident. And even more luckily, this single car has somehow landed back on all four wheels. However, they are not out of the woods yet. Here comes that leg stretch.

Brent pulls over and all three of us hop out. “QUICK! Call 4-1-1!” Dad says to me. I decide to go with 9-1-1 instead. Emergency puts me on HOLD for what feels like 10 minutes (probably closer to 10 seconds). I look over at the car. It is so badly crumpled that I cannot even tell what make or model it is. My call goes through;

“Fire, Police, or Ambulance?” A female voice asks. This is a tough one. It catches me off-guard.

“BRING EVERYONE!” I yell. I am pacing back and forth beside our Jimmy on the opposite side of the highway from the accident. I’m so focused on the 9-1-1 call, and reviewing my decision to tell them to bring EVERYONE, that I don’t even stop to think what Wade and Brent might be up to. The phone line gets transferred over and an incredibly calm new voice speaks into my ear.

“Alright sir, has there been a car accident?” The new lady asks.

“YES!” I reply.

“Well that’s okay. That’s okay. What is your location?” She inquires; more calm than ever.

“Umm…KAMLOOPS!” I instantly recognize that “KAMLOOPS” is not a good enough answer and begin bobbing around for clues. WHY are they asking me all these difficult questions!?! I think to myself. Don’t they have Google Street View or some iPhone app that can take care of this? It was madness. Madness, I tell you!

The accident is no more than one minute old at this point, but as I shoot my head around to find someone with answers it felt like the entire city had shown up. On the right-hand side of the freeway, nearest to our vehicle, there is a steep grassy embankment with houses and rural roads that overlook Highway 1. The top of this hill is now lined with locals eager to provide a running, but primarily counterproductive, commentary on the incident. I call to one of these “hillbillies”, as we would later refer to them as (due to their behaviour and literal position atop the hill), and one of them provides me with our exact location for the 9-1-1 operator. It would turn out to be the last helpful remark uttered by any of these onlookers. The types that come from nowhere then go right back into it.

“Back up! She’s gonna blow!” Screams a hillbilly. This catches my attention and with my cell phone still to my ear, I finally turn around and face the wrecked silver car. Now, when you have just witnessed a serious car accident, are on the phone with 9-1-1, and can hear people screaming “SHE’S GONNA BLOW”, things can feel a bit overwhelming. Altogether though, I felt like I was maintaining my composure. This all began to change as I see Wade and Brent digging around in the passenger seat of a car that was now on fire!

“Alright sir, help is on the way. Can you describe for me the situation?” More questions from the calm lady.

“My father and my best friend are pulling people from a burning vehicle!” I almost can’t believe my own words.

“Okay, go.” She says. Thinking back on it with a clear mind this was kind of a wild thing to say. No instructions? No talking us through this? Just “go”? Okay, I will go. I run across two lanes, through the trench that separates east and westbound traffic, and into the belly of the beast. It is scary and I am really hoping there are no dead people in the car. Wade and Brent have just unbuckled and evacuated a barely conscious female passenger and she’s lying at our feet. Dad runs back to see if anyone else is inside and realizes that another witness has removed the driver from the car – everyone is out. Both are alive. The air is thick with black smoke that is making it hard to breathe. The “It’s gonna blow” chants continue.

“They’re both shitfaced!” Another hillbilly yells eroneously. Wade and I decide to pick up the female and carry her as far from the carnage as possible. She is covered in blood and dirt and her face is so swollen that we can’t tell if she’s 13 or 30. We are trying to be gentle with her but she begins to regain consciousness and is very squirmy. I keep telling her that everything is alright.

“No it’s not!” She screams back at us. She is right. We lay her down well out of harm’s way and Wade makes a pillow with his shirt and places it under her head. I look back to see that the silver car she was buckled to just moments ago is now fully engulfed in flames. The gas tank would later explode, as the hillbillies predicted, but it was far less eventful than their frantic warning yelps implied. The explosion shot up rather than out and was nothing more than a loud BOOM and a puff of smoke.

I see the male driver of the vehicle surrounded by his own group of witnesses. There is a large gash on his forehand but he is standing and walking around on his own power. He holds a dirty cloth to his head to stop the bleeding and is attempting to make his way over to the female but is being slowed down by many well-meaning bystanders. Seemingly out of nowhere comes a Medical First Responder who looks like Doogie Howser. Even though it seems like he has just hit puberty, and it could very well be his first day on the job, this kid does an amazing job taking care of a very distressed female and I earn a ton of respect for, not only him, but anyone in an emergency response profession. The first response team showed up so lightning quick that they must have either been on that stretch of highway already OR they are a bunch of psychics who roll around in first aid Ferrari’s.

Once the professionals have taken over we return to our Jimmy and continue on our journey. When we left the scene of the accident there did not seem to be any reason to believe that either passenger had suffered serious or life-threatening injuries. While we are not doctors, Wade and I do both hold Bachelors Degree’s now so that’s an assessment of health you can take straight to the bank! I see a lot car advertisements bragging about their safety features or crash-test ratings, but it’s impossible to have an appreciation for such things until you witness the importance first-hand. Seatbelts and airbags were the difference between life and death on this day. A few miles down the road I get a text message from my mom. She wants to know how the drive is going and if we’re making good time. I text back:

“Dad and Wade just rescued a person from a burning vehicle. Other than that, everything is going great.”

I have felt some level of nerves in each one of my triathlon races to date. These feelings have ranged from a healthy anxiousness to a full-blown “HOLY I’M DROWNING” panic attack. As corny as it may sound, to experience such a chilling circumstance, and endure the events that followed, really put things into perspective for me as we safely completed the drive to Ghost Lake, Alberta (location of the swim). I felt strangely calm for the remainder of the trip and throughout my longest race distance yet - thankful that I am strong enough in mind and body to even attempt such a task. I mean, c’mon, if Dad and Wade can rescue a person from a flaming vehicle, the least I can do is swim, cycle, and run for 70.3 miles, right?