‘We went cave diving for a few days and we were able to get those kids out.
‘I’m just trying to emphasise how big a part so many people played in this. We are not quite sure why the spotlight has shone on us as a pair. It’s all quite exciting but I just need to get back to work actually and stop my head swelling and start to relax again.’
Challen’s assessment of the dangers posed by the rescue mission was blunt: ‘We can handle ourselves in that environment, that’s all right, but I just can’t stress [enough] how bleak the outlook was for those kids in there. [We are] just overjoyed that it all worked out okay because it could easily have not.’
A few days later, in his home city of Adelaide, Harris was welcomed at a reception hosted by Governor Hieu Van Le at South Australia’s Government House. Life would never quite be the same again for Richard Harris, one of the heroes of Tham Luang cave.
A month later Challen, Harris and their buddies in the Wet Mules diving club got together for another dive. Their destination was one of the longest underwater caves in Australia—Tank Cave, near the South Australian town of Mount Gambier. In what was probably a first, a team of local ABC journalists came along to record the Wet Mules’ dive for multimedia posterity.
Challen was happy to wax lyrical about their big adventure now it was over, saying ‘we’re getting back to normal life’ but refusing to explain the attraction of cave diving: ‘if you need to ask that question, you wouldn’t understand the answer.’2
But Harris, true to form and in keeping with his decision to decline dozens of requests to participate in newspaper and TV interviews, books and more, said nothing. His deeds in Tham Luang, weeks earlier, would speak for themselves.
The road that leads to Tham Luang cave has seen better days. It’s easy to speed past it, too, when you’re rocketing up Phahonyothin Road on the way into Mae Sai, especially if you don’t know what you’re looking for.
A small brown wooden sign, set back from the road and framed by rock, announces the entrance to the forest park. The broken bitumen takes you past fields of bananas and strawberries, some cows and a few lonely farmhouses, set back from the road.
After a couple of kilometres of twists, turns and bumps, an even smaller sign, announcing the entrance to Tham Luang, appears at a turn-off to a dirt road. It’s so remote—and apparently, the sprawling Mountain of the Sleeping Lady is so unremarkable—that at the time of writing even Google’s all-seeing street-view cameras haven’t photographed the final 550 metres of dirt road that lead to the cave entrance (the last drive-by visit was in April 2012). But a month after the rescue of the Wild Boars and their coach, cars still jam the road that leads to the cave. It’s Monday, 12 August, the day following Mother’s Day, and Thais are enjoying a three-day weekend.
One by one, hundreds of tourists are walking up the dirt road to the entrance of Tham Luang cave, then clambering up and down the staircase that leads to the cave mouth where mud squelches underfoot.
Jeerachayon Arginpat, 31, says he has driven the 250 kilometres from Chiang Mai today with friends and family and that, like many northern Thais, he believes that something sacred protects this site and that, yes, he prayed to the Lady today. ‘I just wanted to tell her that we are here to visit and pay respect to her because this is her place and if I do something wrong by mistake, she might forgive us.’
He admits that the rescue was a sort of miracle, as well as the result of good science and engineering. ‘I think it might be both, because of luck and also the good management. At first, I wondered why the rescue mission was so slow. “Just dive and bring them out” … but I didn’t know the condition inside of the cave. After that, after I knew about the inside of the cave from the media, that’s why I think a part of it is quite like a miracle as well.’
Like millions of Thais, and people all over the world, Arginpat had closely followed the news of the rescue every day. And now he was at the cave because ‘to be frank, I want to see the rescue scene myself’.
Italian couple Marco Leso and Stella Bortolo, from Milan, have made the trek to Tham Luang for the same reason as Arginpat and his family. They just wanted to see it for themselves and, after planning a 21-day trip to Thailand that would take them through Chiang Mai and the resort island of Koh Samui, they added Tham Luang cave to their list of destinations.
‘We watched it at home on Sky and I thought it was a miracle, the story of the boys in the cave,’ Bortolo says. ‘So we decided just to come here to see it for ourselves. We hope this story is translated into Italian. Everyone wants to know it.’
There are no answers, at least not yet, to be found at Tham Luang cave itself about how those extraordinary eighteen days came about. There is just the silent Princess, the Lady of the mountain, and a blocked cave entrance. Candles flicker, and the air is thick with the smell of burning incense in an unlikely looking brick shrine, where three female mannequins, all dressed in various shades of pink, stand. On the wall behind them hangs another pink dress while bottles of unopened water and figurines sit at their feet. To westerners it might look a bit absurd, but this is deadly serious. Silently, visitors stand palms together in the universally recognised symbol of prayer. In an age when the young think nothing of taking a selfie at a Holocaust memorial, here even the click of a smartphone camera is unusual. No one laughs and chit-chat is kept to a minimum. Visitors linger for up to five minutes, then walk up to the green fence that bars the way into the cave, turn and leave.
A couple of food stalls do a brisk trade, but some more enterprising souls, selling lottery tickets in this place of great fortune, are mostly idle. The visitors are lost in the moment, transfixed by the shrine that honours the Princess. It’s as if they can still scarcely believe the boys managed to escape, and they have to see the entrance themselves to believe it.
A month earlier, at the top of the road that leads to the cave entrance, this site had swarmed with thousands of people who churned the soaked ground into thick mud as rescuers raced to devise a plan and journalists competed to file updates.
The central square, adjacent to the toilet block, which had been home to hundreds of international media personnel, has been closed off, and work to build a new structure to memorialise the site is underway.
The rows of food stalls staffed by cheerful locals, who handed out free meals, drinks, medical supplies and even underpants for eighteen hours a day are gone.
Further up the hill, a patch of dirt where thirteen ambulances assembled every day, ready to rush the boys to hospital once the rescue mission finally began, is empty.
And the large screened-off camps, where Thai Navy SEALs and a huge cohort of international divers had assembled their diving gear and gathered their cylinders and discussed rescue plans for days on end, have now all been cleared.
Tham Luang is silent, but it will not forget those fateful eighteen days when the Wild Boars were imprisoned in Nern Nom Sao.
The former governor of Chiang Rai Province, Narongsak Osatanakorn—who remained in charge of the rescue mission, even after his governorship expired—has predicted the site will become a living museum. Some of the tools and clothing used in the rescue have already been set aside for a planned future display, and there is talk that a sculpture of Saman Gunan, the retired SEAL who died during the lead-up to the rescue, will also be placed on the site. But even without those keepsakes and mementos, even without a fancy visitors’ centre, Tham Luang has already changed forever. It’s now a shrine.
A sign points the way to Tham Luang cave, deep in the Doi Nang Non mountain range, where the Wild Boars were trapped for eighteen days. (Ye Aung Thu / AFP / Getty)
Their bicycles were found propped against a fence near the entrance to Tham Luang cave. (Pongmanat Tasiri / EPA / AP)
Mr Lak and Vernon Unsworth, who had spent years exploring the cave system together, were called in as expert consultants the morning after the boys went missing. Their knowledge of Tham Luang would prove invaluable. (Supplied by Mr Lak)
A Thai rescue official sketches a rescue plan in an early stage of the search operation. (Pongmanat Tasiri / EPA / AP)
Emergency rescue teams gather in chamber 1 three days after the Wild Boars were reported missing. Soon their numbers would grow into the hundreds. (Lillian Suwanrumpha / AFP / Getty)
A member of the Thai rescue team searches the cave, looking for a route that would bypass the flooded passages. (Thailand National Parks and Wildlife / AP)
Rescue mission chief Narongsak Osatanakorn welcomes cave divers and explorers Rick Stanton, Rob Harper and John Volanthen (L–R), the first members of the British contingent to arrive at Tham Luang cave. Stanton and Volanthen would find the Boars a few days after they arrived. (Lillian Suwanrumpha / AFP / Getty)
John Volanthen leaves the cave on the evening of 28 June. The early attempts to dive were stymied by rising water levels. (Linh Pham / Getty)
The rising floodwaters in the early days after the boys went missing made access to the cave as well as the diving operations incredibly difficult. Here the entrance of the cave has begun to flood. (Linh Pham / Getty)
More than a hundred people searched the Doi Nang Non mountains looking for alternative entrances to the caves below. (Lillian Suwanrumpha / AFP / Getty)
Thai authorities stockpile diving cylinders for the searchers. Once they were empty, many of the cylinders were later abandoned in the cave. (Linh Pham / Getty)
Just some of the pipes used to pump water out of the cave. Here Australian Federal Police divers make their way up the muddy steps to the entrance. (Cameron Noble / DFAT)
The army of volunteers outside Tham Luang cave worked up to eighteen hours a day, providing free meals, coffee, medical care—even free underpants—for the rescue workers, families and media on site. (Author’s photo)
A volunteer cooks stir-fried chicken in a huge wok for the rescuers. (Author’s photo)
In an attempt to both improve conditions in the cave and facilitate the rescue, water was pumped out of the cave around the clock for days on end. (Author’s photo)
On 2 July, the US Special Operations Command Pacific Search and Rescue team met with rescue teams from China, Thailand and Australia. (Sakchai Lalit / AP)
Thai Navy SEALs searching the cave system on 2 July, the day the Boars were found. (Tham Luang Rescue Operation Center / AP)
The news the world had been waiting for. A still image from the video taken by Rick Stanton and John Volanthen on the day they discovered the boys at Nern Nom Sao, deep inside the cave. (Tham Luang Rescue Operation Center / AP)
The news spreads—Thanaporn Promtep, mother of ‘Dom’, the Wild Boars captain, shares an image of the boys and their coach in the cave. (Linh Pham / Getty)
Relatives celebrate the news the boys have been found alive and well. (Sakchai Lalit / AP)
Australian Federal Police dive specialists, who played an important role in supporting the team of rescue divers, on site at Tham Luang cave. (Cameron Noble / DFAT)
Members of the Thai military, who maintained a huge presence on the ground and provided essential support throughout the rescue, head towards the cave entrance. (Author’s photo)
The shrine to the Sleeping Lady, the Princess of Sipsong Panna, just outside the entrance to Tham Luang cave. (Author’s photo)
A message from one of the boys to his parents, transcribed by a Thai diver. He tells them, among other things, that when they leave the cave they want to eat ‘so many things’ but not be given too much homework.
A team of international divers prepares to enter Tham Luang cave on 5 July. By this stage the boys were accompanied round the clock by Dr Pak and three Thai Navy SEALs. (Sakchai Lalit / AP)
A gathering of US and foreign divers, including Danes Claus Rasmussen (far left) and Ivan Karadzic (to Rasmussen’s left), and Canadian Erik Brown (centre). The trio were members of the team who helped dive, swim and drag the boys from Nern Nom Sao to chamber 3. (Lillian Suwanrumpha / AFP / Getty)
Aussie cave-diving buddies—retired Perth vet Craig Challen and Adelaide anaesthetist Richard Harris. (DFAT / AP)
Thai bird’s nest collectors, who earn their living scaling sheer limestone cliffs on the island of Koh Libong, and professional Thai climbers set off to assist in the search for alternative ways into the cave. (Rungroj Yongrit / EPA / AP)
On 7 July, as rain continues to threaten the rescue effort, Thai rescue workers try desperately to divert the flow of water away from the entrance. (Sakchai Lalit / AP)
One of the many paddy fields flooded by the water pumped out of Tham Luang cave. The Doi Nang Non mountain range can be seen in the background. (Ye Aung Thu / AFP / Getty)
While the world waited for news, Wild Boar fever was evident everywhere. (Lauren DeCicca / Getty)
On the morning of 8 July, a huge scrum of international media waits for rescue mission chief Narongsak to announce that the rescue mission had begun. (Author’s photo)
Rescuers operate the highline, an elaborate pulley system used in parts of chambers 2 and 3 to transport the boys in special rescue stretchers, known as Skeds, to the cave entrance. (Thai Navy SEALs / AP)
Medics checked the boys several times as they were brought out of the cave. (Thai Navy SEALs / AP)
One of the diving masks used during the rescue mission, now on display at an exhibition in Bangkok. (Veena Thoopkrajae)
An ambulance leaves Tham Luang cave with one of the first boys to be rescued. Some would travel to hospital in Chiang Rai in ambulances, while others would be transferred in helicopters. (Linh Pham / Getty)
Adul’s classmates gather at their school’s shrine to the Wild Boars. (Lauren DeCicca / Getty)
Senior coach Nopparat ‘Nop’ Kanthawong at the Wild Boars’ training ground. (Author’s photo)
Indian schoolchildren in Ahmedabad pray for the trapped boys. (Sam Panthaky / AFP / Getty)
On 9 July, the second day of the rescue, Thai soldiers carry one of the Wild Boars to a waiting ambulance. (KYDPL KYODO / AP)
The Thai authorities were vigilant in protecting the boys from the media once they were rescued from the cave. On day 2 of the rescue, one of the Boars is about to be taken by air ambulance to Chiang Rai Hospital. (Lillian Suwanrumpha / AFP / Getty)
The last four out of the cave—the three Thai Navy SEALs and Dr Pak, who spent eight days with the Wild Boars at Nern Nom Sao. (Thai Navy SEALs / AP)
Volunteers celebrate as word emerges that all of the boys are out, and alive. (Kate Geraghty / Fairfax)
Mission chief Narongsak Osatanakorn celebrates the successful rescue of all thirteen Boars from the cave. (KYDPL KYODO / AP)
The boys recovering in quarantine at Chiang Rai Hospital, where they would spend about a week undergoing a battery of medical tests, including lung X-rays, to make sure they were healthy. (Chiang Rai Prachanukroh Hospital / AP)
The Boars’ first public outing—a press conference—where Ek and the boys were accompanied by two child psychologists. Dr Pak and the three Thai Navy SEALs also attended. (Lillian Suwanrumpha / AFP / Getty)
The Wild Boars’ coach, Ekapol ‘Ek’ Chantawong, walks past the portrait of former Thai Navy SEAL diver Saman Gunan, who died during the cave rescue. (Panumas Sanguanwong / AFP / Getty)
With their coach, Ek (far left), eleven of the Wild Boars pray during a ceremony marking the completion of their retreat as novice Buddhist monks. They had been ordained in honour of Saman Gunan. Adul, who is a Christian, is not pictured. (Panumas Sanguanwong / AFP / Getty)
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
No book has ever arrived as an orphan. This one is no exception.
It has been based on dozens of interviews and extensive research of an extraordinary situation—a highly charged, tense and unprecedented rescue mission carried out in just eighteen days.
Though every effort has been made to ensure accuracy, on occasion, due to the vagaries of human memory, conflicting accounts may emerge.
To Elizabeth Weiss, first of all, for asking me to write it. And for
then backing me 100 per cent of the time, taking every phone call and responding to every email and supporting me every step of the way with patience and good advice.
To Angela Handley, a terrific editor who did the same and more, including checking all the tiny details.
To Sarah Baker, for ploughing through my rough first draft and making some sense of it.
To Isabelle O’Brien, for doing such a stellar job in getting this book out there into the world.
And to everyone else at Allen & Unwin, thank you.
To Veena Thoopkrajae, my translator, researcher, eyes and ears on the ground and fellow journalist, who answered every WhatsApp question, day or night, and went the extra mile, I could not have done it without you.
The Great Cave Rescue Page 16
