Chopper crash survivors remember

Its looming presence is unavoidable for the retired fourth-generation farmer as he potters in the paddock almost daily.

Mr Howe's relationship with the mountain was positive - childhood memories of hunting and fishing with his father and fellow Vietnam War veterans - until May 30, 2002, when he and three others plummeted 45 metres through the air.

All survived but lay on the ground with broken backs and other bones for nine hours before help arrived. Mr Howe was the last to be lifted out, spending 14 hours on frozen earth.

He, neighbour Dave Allen, Meander Valley Councillor Pat Frost, and Melbourne-based pilot David Sewell had spent the morning restoring Ironside Hut at Lake Nameless.

Mrs Frost had just overcome her fear of flying.

''I sorted out all my finances - the banking, paid all the accounts - and I said to my husband `if anything happens to me, don't bury me, burn me,'' Mrs Frost said.

''Kelvin was stirring me as we were going up, telling me that if (the helicopter) goes down, you don't get up and walk away.''

Mr Howe recalled a beautiful and serene day on the mountain.

''The sun was shining and I remember thinking that life couldn't be better,'' Mr Howe said.

''In the space of half an hour, it was all tipped upside down and our lives changed forever.''

The chopper was 45 metres in the air and 200 metres from the hut when it ran out of fuel.

A crash investigation by the Australian Transport Safety Bureau found a petrol pump used to refuel the helicopter was faulty.

It had dispensed 140 litres of fuel rather than the required 200 litres.

''I think we hit the ground in excess of 12 gs (175 kilometres per second) from 150 feet,'' Mr Howe said

''Pat and I were sitting side by side. I was thrown out of the helicopter 10 metres one way and she was thrown 10 or 15 metres the other way.

''Dave was sitting behind us in a seatbelt, which he was pulled out of and thrown out as well.

''If Pat and I had been wearing seatbelts, we would have been torn in half, or in wheelchairs.

''I've still got a recollection of going through the air. When I hit the ground, I thought I was dead.

''My mouth started to fill with blood, which gave me a sign that I was alive, though not for long as I thought my lungs had been punctured by my ribs and that I'd drown in my own blood.''

Instead, the blood was oozing from above his right eye, bringing momentary relief.

Mr Howe broke 11 bones - his ribs, arm, leg, and back, and his foot was crushed.

Mrs Frost broke her back, a broken bone dangerously close to her spinal cord, threatening to put her in a wheelchair.

''Doctors said I would be in a wheelchair in five years, now it's 10 years and I've proved them wrong,'' she said.

The helicopter's emergency distress beacon had been switched off so it would not be knocked as building materials were loaded and unloaded from the chopper.

With a broken back and pelvis, the pilot crawled 200 metres up a hill, trying for up to two hours to get mobile phone coverage to call for help.

A rescue chopper arrived five hours after the crash, shone a search light directly over the wreck and flew off, unable to spot the survivors through dense fog.

Mr Howe started a fire after the helicopter flew away and waited anxiously for signs of a rescue party.

''As I was walking to start a fire, I could feel my bones crunching - I still can feel it now,'' Mr Howe said.

''Things were getting pretty desperate.

''I was hollering out to someone who was answering back but it ended up being a Tasmanian devil.''

As the overnight temperature dropped to minus 8 degrees, Mrs Frost and Mr Allen started to suffer hypothermia.

''We crashed 200 metres from the hut, which was just awful - I tried to crawl there a few times but couldn't,'' Mr Howe said.

''All I wanted to get were those warm blankets in there.''

''I could move around and get out of the wind by sheltering myself with the wreck but Pat and Dave couldn't.

''They just kept on getting colder and colder and colder.''

Paramedic Graeme Jones, backed by five search and rescue workers, expected to find one person stranded on the mountain.

They negotiated an iced-over Western Creek track for two hours, carrying 75-kilogram loads on their backs, when they reached the crash survivors and started administering treatment.

''I only had half an hour of life left when I was airlifted,'' Mrs Frost said.

''My core temperature was only two points above 29 degrees, which means death, and my temperature was dropping.

Mrs Frost and Mr Howe will mark the crash's 10-year anniversary this year without Mr Allen.

''He had a lot of spinal and nerve damage that affected his vital organs,'' Mr Howe said.

Mrs Frost said Mr Allen's death was more than mourning the loss of a friend.

''Through this accident, the three of us became very good friends and when you lose one, it does hurt quite a bit,'' she said.

Mr Howe's wife, Margaret, detailed their experience in a book, Miracle On The Mountain, which she plans to release in three weeks

The book evolved from diary notes she kept from the accident through the recovery.

''I used to jot down what was happening because I knew that down the track we would never remember the smaller details,'' Mrs Howe said.

''When Kelvin came home from hospital, he lay on a bed in the front room for three months and visitors would pour in from 8am to 8pm.

''He'd be telling the story over and over and over again.

''I would overhear this then sit at the computer and write it all down.

''Dave and Pat shared their side of what happened that night and police, paramedics, and search and rescue workers have all willingly talked to me.''

The book is as much a tribute to the survivors as those that helped to save their lives.

''They think we are special but it is really they who are the special ones,'' Mr Howe said.

- To get a copy of Miracle On The Mountain after its release, contact Mrs Howe on 6367 8181.