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- Geoff, 63, was camping with his grandson Noah, 13 when a tree fell on the caravan, burying the teenager alive for 45 minutes
- Thankfully strangers called emergency services who worked to free the boy
- He was taken to hospital where he was treated for multiple injuries, including a broken arm, four broken ribs and a collapsed lung
Here, he tells his story in his own words
Cracking open my beer, I reclined in my camp chair, taking in the still night air.
It was December last year, and after a hectic Christmas Day, I’d taken my grandson Noah, then 13, on his first camping trip in Corowa, NSW. I’d been camping in the same site for the last two years.
Arriving on Boxing Day, Noah and I had spent two days by the river enjoying the sunny weather.
By 9.20pm that night, Noah decided to turn in.
We planned on being up early the next morning to go paddleboarding.
As he headed to the caravan to have some downtime on his phone and pop it on charge, I grabbed my last beer from the esky to go and have a yarn with our neighbours.
I’d been coming to the Ball Park Caravan Park for 30 years and knew lots of the other visitors well, so it was nice to catch up.
I only made it about 10 metres from our site when I heard a strange creaking noise behind me.
Suddenly, an almighty crash rang out.
A plume of dust filled the air as I ran back towards our van. When it settled, my heart fell to the pit of my stomach.
A huge 40-metre-tall gum tree, from outside the caravan park, had snapped clean in half and fallen on the van, crushing it flat.
Twisted bits of metal and broken branches were strewn around the site from the impact.
Noah! I thought, terrified of how badly injured he might be. Or worse…
I’d always thought myself a pretty tough bloke. After injuring my right leg in a motorbike accident at 23, I’d chosen to have it amputated to relieve the chronic pain. Rebuilding my life was hard, but I was fitted with a prosthetic and became a Limbs 4 Life Peer Support Volunteer to give back to the amputee community.
But none of it compared to the fear of knowing my grandson was trapped, and I couldn’t help him.
Thankfully, people from neighbouring sites rushed over to help.
‘Is anyone inside?’ someone shouted.
‘Noah is,’ my mate Darren, who’d been staying at another campsite, chimed in.
Paralysed with fear, I was rooted to the spot.
All I could do was look on in shock as someone called an ambulance. Others worked to try and free Noah from the wreckage. He’d literally been buried alive.
Every second felt like an eternity, but after five minutes, Noah’s voice croaked out from the rubble, groaning in pain.
At least he was alive!
Still in a state of total shock, I watched on as campers climbed inside the wreckage to stabilise Noah’s head and back while we waited for paramedics to arrive.
‘It’s going to be okay,’ they assured him. ‘Help is on the way.’
Relief washed over me when the Corowa Rescue Squad, Fire and Rescue NSW, police and paramedics arrived.
It took them 45 minutes to clear the area and remove the caravan’s roof to reach Noah.
He was bleeding from his nose and forehead, but he was conscious.
As paramedics carefully loaded my grandson into the ambo, I jumped in beside him.
‘You’ll be okay, mate,’ I said, as we raced to Albury Hospital.
There, X-rays revealed Noah had a broken arm, a collapsed lung, four broken ribs, a severely bloodied nose, suspected concussion and lacerations to his arms and legs.
When I was told he had to be airlifted to the Royal Children’s Hospital in Melbourne for further treatment on his lung, I called my son Scott, 37, and Noah’s mum Natasha, 35, to fill them in.
‘I’ll be there as soon as I can,’ Scott said, panicked.
With my car and caravan destroyed – and in no condition to drive – I couldn’t travel with Noah to Melbourne. So Scott picked me up and we drove to Melbourne to be by Noah’s side. Natasha was already there.
‘I’ll be right, don’t worry so much,’ Noah assured me. I was floored by his resilience.
Luckily, he didn’t need surgery on his lung.
By New Year’s Eve, Noah was able to go home. He was fitted with a cast for his arm, but given the okay to head to school once the new term started.
Almost a year on, Noah, now 14, is back playing AFL, and is the captain of his school’s footy team. He’s got a few scars on his left leg from the accident.
I can’t thank the caravan park owners and strangers enough for helping that night, and the emergency services for the role they played in rescuing my grandson.
We still don’t know why the tree fell.
Every day I’m so grateful that Noah made it out alive.
If I hadn’t grabbed another drink, it’s likely we would both have been asleep and could have been completely crushed in the incident.
We’re giving camping a miss this summer, but in December we will be returning to Corowa to thank the community who helped rescue Noah.
When we do camp again, I’ll be very vigilant about trees. But until then we will be spending as much time together as a family as we can.
