greta garbo mont blanc pen 5 Survival Stories Almost Too Miraculous to be Real
Of course, said mission turned into the most terrifying disaster movie this side of the SS Poseidon. In the early morning of May 26, 2013, Okene had just gotten up and was in the bathroom. Suddenly, his ship was hit by what a spokesman later called a “sudden ocean swell” (which is presumably corporate speak for “Shit, we accidentally summoned Cthulhu again”).
Okene could only watch helplessly as his daily life turned into a trip to Rapture. The tugboat capsized and plummeted 100 feet below the surface, with him still inside. Trapped in the dark abyss with no one else in sight and wearing nothing but his boxers, Okene waded through the ship’s corridors (which were slowly filling with icy water). To make things worse, sharks and barracudas soon started roaming the ship’s interiors in search of a meal. He could hear them fighting for the remains of his shipmates in other rooms and swimming in the water just below him. He had no food. The salt water and the bumps from the accident were wearing his skin raw. There was far too little air for him to breathe, and he was ruining it with every breath by puffing out carbon dioxide. He would not last beyond a couple of hours.
Except that he totally did. In fact, he managed to stay alive for 62 hours. Here’s how:
That little beauty is called Boyle’s law. It states that when you increase atmospheric pressure (say, by sinking 100 feet underwater), gases become denser. This meant the tiny air pocket actually contained a lot more oxygen than it would on land. Meanwhile, that lethally cold water aided Okene by absorbing the murderous carbon dioxide he was breathing out, so the CO2 levels never built up to toxic levels, either.
In 2006, the 19 year old Missouri native was in his grandmother’s trailer home when the weather became rowdy. In an attempt to shield himself from the storm, Suter was just standing on the sofa and attempting to close the living room window. Suddenly, things got 10 kinds of crazy. The noise became unbearable. The floor of the trailer started “moving just like Jell O.” A massive force hit the trailer, tearing the doors from their hinges and generally wrecking shit. Furniture went into Poltergeist mode, flying around and smacking into Suter.
Mobile homes are not particularly known for their stability.
At this point, it was clear that the storm was a twister. This became even clearer when Suter, wearing only his underpants, was sucked out of the trailer through a collapsing wall into the raging darkness beyond. As death scenes go, this was both extremely cinematic and utterly unsurvivable.
Except that he totally survived. By the time Suter regained consciousness, he was lying four football fields away from the remains of the trailer. The twister had been hurling him around until he ended up in a grass field almost a quarter mile away and across a barbed wire fence. He survived the 150 mph ride with just minor cuts and bruises.
He used this diagram in traffic court to contest his speeding ticket.
The astonished agents of the National Weather Service measured the precise distance of his flight at 1,307 feet, which is the longest tornado aided flight a human being has ever survived, especially with such minor injuries. Really, the only reason we’re not thinking Suter is secretly Superman is the fact that in 1955, a 9 year old girl also miraculously survived a 1,000 foot tornado ride. That she took with her pony.
So while most of us were busy building booger constructs and pissing ourselves at the thought of rides at Six Flags, Ollestad was deep sea fishing and going on jungle safaris to find secret surfing spots.
Ollestad didn’t always enjoy daddy’s lessons, but they did make him tough. He became a master at everything extreme, from comfortably riding on his father’s back while he was surfing at age 1 to effortlessly skiing impossibly difficult slopes at freaking 4.
If he tired of being a badass, a modeling career awaited him.
On February 19, 1979, Ollestad 11 at the time and his father were flying to Big Bear Mountain to retrieve a trophy he had won the day before. Their Cessna was caught in a blizzard and crashed in the mountains at around 8,600 feet. Ollestad’s dad and the pilot were killed instantly. Ollestad was more or less OK, because of course he was, but the other survivor (his father’s girlfriend, Sandra) had a dislocated shoulder and a busted head. This less than ideal situation was soon made a whole lot worse, because the rescue helicopters completely missed them. They were on their own.
Because the trip had been just their family’s version of a quick afternoon errand, Ollestad didn’t even have a pair of gloves. All he had was an impossibly steep mountainside, his father’s training, and a primal will to live. Carry dragging the injured Sandra with him, he started making his way down, an inch at a time. Because the universe really wanted to rub it in, Sandra soon lost her grip and fell right before Ollestad’s eyes. We assume that a cloud shaped like a middle finger drifted across the sky immediately afterward.
At that point, most grown men would just lose their shit and give up. Instead, Ollestad fucking leveled up and continued with a full health bar. He went into survival mode, ignoring all the pain and fear. Hanging on by his fingernails, Ollestad made his way down until he finally got to more solid ground. That is to say, impractical.
On July 9, 1958, a massive rock slide dropped some 30.6 million cubic meters of rock right into Alaska’s Lituya Bay. The rocks hit the water with enough force to create a wave roughly 1,720 feet high, uprooting trees and destroying almost everything and everyone in its path .except for a couple of guys who were just casually surfing on top of it.
Howard G. Ulrich and his 8 year old son, Sonny, had picked that fateful night for a nice father son boat trip. by earthquake like sounds and tremors, soon followed by a crash “like an atomic explosion.” They were now staring at the business end of a rapidly approaching megatsunami. Ulrich, being a ’50s kind of guy, eyed the all consuming wall of water, threw his kid a life preserver, and said, “Son, start praying.” Then he presumably poured himself a final glass of whiskey and looked around for a secretary to bang.