Crash in a Volcano | Into the Crater | 1
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Chris Duddy peers out the open door of a helicopter that is flying towards an active volcano. From his vantage point in the backseat, he can see the Hawaiian landscape unfolding below him like a postcard. Blue ocean, golden sunshine, lush green jungle. Chris feels so lucky that he has to say it out loud. I can't believe I'm getting paid for this.

This is a far cry from Chris's usual workplace, the dark special effects studios of Hollywood. Though he's only 31, Chris has been a camera assistant on a wide range of assignments for the effects studio behind Star Wars. It's a cool job, but also a good living, which is important for a guy with two young kids.

Chris adjusts the joysticks on a control panel that's sitting in his lap. The console controls a state-of-the-art 35mm camera that's mounted on the front of the helicopter. One of the men sitting in the front of the helicopter glances back at Chris. It's his boss, veteran special effects photographer Mike Benson. How's that camera looking, Chris? Give me 30 seconds. Roger that. Oh, man. Look at this view.

Chris grins. Working with Mike is always fun. He's 49 and has worked in the business for over two decades, but he's still got the enthusiasm of a teenager. Chris leans his head out the door again to check out the landscape below. The glittering waves are giving way to jagged volcanic rock. They're getting closer to their destination. Kilauea, one of the most active volcanic sites on Earth.

The aerial footage they capture today will be used in the finale of Sliver, an upcoming thriller starring Sharon Stone. To get the shot, they'll need to fly directly over Pu'u'o'o, a steaming crater located about 11 miles from Kilauea's main caldera. After a final check of the camera controls, Chris hands the console to Mike. Ready to go. Mike checks the screen on the console, then gives a thumbs up.

Chris smiles. He knows that Mike is a perfectionist. In fact, this is their second pass over the volcano. Their first attempt wasn't up to his standards.

As they fly closer to Pu'u O'o, Chris leans over to get a better look. It's an enormous bowl of black volcanic rock, over a thousand feet across. At the bottom sits a smaller vent, 250 feet wide, belching a white plume of volcanic gas from a pond of molten lava.

As the helicopter flies closer, he can feel the heat radiating from him. A gust of wind hits the chopper hard, causing it to lurch violently to one side. Chris grabs his seat as his heart starts pounding. The pilot doesn't even flinch. "Just a little turbulence. Standard stuff." Chris exhales, grateful to have an experienced pilot like Craig Hosking at the stick.

As the helicopter levels off again, Mike laughs and takes the camera controls. Just keep it steady for the shock, Craig. No problem. Lining her up now. And go. Mike starts filming as Chris watches from the back seat. The helicopter begins to pass directly over the crater as the camera captures its brutal volcanic landscape. Chris can't keep from grinning.

This shot is going to be incredible. Suddenly, the wind shifts again. The plume of volcanic steam changes direction and heads straight for the chopper. In an instant, the three men are engulfed in toxic fumes. Chris chokes as the foul-smelling gases fill his nose and throat. As he tries to hold his breath, he hears a horrible sound.

The engine sounds like it's fighting for its life and losing. It sputters, chokes, and goes quiet. And then they start to fall. Craig shouts from the front. Hang on! Chris feels his stomach rise in his throat. He turns to Mike and sees the panic in his mentor's eyes. The engine is dead. The air is toxic, and they are hurtling down into an active volcano. This is real, not a movie.

And Chris has no idea how it's going to end. In our fast-paced, screen-filled world, it can be all too easy to lose that sense of imagination and wonder. If you're looking for new ways to ignite your creativity and open your mind to fresh perspectives, then let Audible be your guide. Whether you listen to stories, motivation, or any genre you love, Audible is the place for you.

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From Wondery, I'm Mike Corey, and this is Against the Odds. Kilauea sits on the southeastern edge of the Big Island of Hawaii and is the most dangerous of the five volcanoes that make up the island chain. It's erupted over 60 times in the past 200 years, making it one of the most active volcanoes on Earth.

On November 21st, 1992, three men, cameraman Chris Duddy and Mike Benson, and pilot Craig Hosking, took off in a helicopter to shoot a scene for a Hollywood movie. The job was straightforward, get footage inside a volcano. But a simple shift in the wind led to a terrifying disaster that would test the men's physical and mental strength in ways they never imagined. This is episode one.

Chris Duddy waves his empty Mai Tai glass at a passing waiter. He wants a second drink with dinner, even though he's pretty sure his boss, Mike Benson, is going to give him a good ribbing about it. It's November 20th, 1992, the night before their Kilauea shoot. They're in a hotel in Hilo, a small town on the eastern side of the big island of Hawaii.

This is where Paramount has set up the Sliver production office for the Hawaii shoot. Tonight, Mike is taking the whole camera department out for dinner. He's famous for his generosity and his larger-than-life sense of humor. He sees Chris ordering a second drink and calls out to the waiter. Nothing for that guy. He's working tomorrow.

Chris points at the tropical drink in front of Mike and pipes up with mock indignation. Hey, you're working tomorrow too. Yeah, I know, but we'll never get anything done if we're both hungover. Chris has known Mike since they worked together on Terminator 2. Mike has hired him as assistant cameraman on almost every job since. After multiple gigs together, they've become good friends.

Chris sips his second Mai Tai and checks his watch. It's getting late back in Los Angeles. He'll have to head up to his room soon to call his kids. Cameron is seven and Colin is five. They love staying up past bedtime to talk to their dad. And Chris can't wait to tell them what he's doing tomorrow. Flying in a helicopter over an active volcano. When his boys hear that, they're going to think they've got the coolest dad in the world.

Mike Benson pours himself another cup of bad coffee. He's in the second unit production office, set up in a hotel suite in Hilo. It's early morning on November 21st, 1992, and the makeshift office is already humming. Over the years, Mike's grown to love these temporary nerve centers that movie companies set up for remote shoots. With a few cameras, a couple of phones, a copier, a fax machine, and a cheap coffee pot,

You can make movie magic. He's with his cameraman, Chris Duddy, their pilot, Craig Hosking, and an associate producer named Laura Wiederman. Laura is impressing on them the importance of today's shoot. This morning is the only break in the weather we're going to get. Are you sure you've prepped everything on the shot list? Mike replies, deadpan. What shot list? Laura stares for a moment. Mike breaks into a smile. I'm kidding. We got it. We got it.

Laura smiles back, but isn't overly amused. She's young, but ultra-professional, with a reputation for getting the job done. Obstacles be damned. Mike knows it wasn't easy getting a permit to shoot over the volcano. It's part of a national park, and considered dangerous to fly over. But somehow, Laura pulled it off.

He takes another sip of bitter coffee as Laura reviews the key shot for the 200th time. This is for the final sequence of the movie. The killer confesses to the heroine and he flies their chopper into the volcano. Blackout. Credits roll. We don't know if they survive. Mike knows an effects team will use the shot as a background and insert the actors later. If it's not perfect, the suits back at Paramount will not be

be happy. Chris tosses his styrofoam cup into the trash. Don't worry. I'll make sure Mike doesn't screw it up. Hey, come on. They all laugh. Mike's got a long line of credits from the Blues Brothers to Patriot Games. Everyone knows he won't screw it up. All right then. Good luck out there, gentlemen. As they head out the door to get into the car and drive to the airfield, Mike lets out a sigh of relief.

Given a choice between a nervous producer and a volcano, he'll take the volcano any day. Chris Duddy turns over a glass bottle in his hands. He's in the back of the chopper as it flies towards Kilauea. Mike Benson and their pilot, Craig Hosking, are in front. Below them, the green of the jungle is slowly giving way to the dark rock of the lava fields.

Minutes ago, as the morning sun was still rising, they took off from their base camp, five miles from the volcano. Chris checked and double-checked the camera mounted on the outside of the helicopter. He made sure the film was loaded and the battery was fresh. Once in the air, the camera is controlled remotely. There's no way to get out and fix it if something goes wrong.

But now, as the chopper closes in on the volcano, he ponders the bottle in his hands. A fifth of gin wrapped in a tea leaf, given to them by a local priest. Just before they took off, he addresses Craig over the Clearcom headset. "What was it that the priest said? I just throw this into the volcano, right?"

Yeah, it's an offering for Madame Pele. It's a tradition on all film shoots here. On the first flight to Kilauea, you toss in a bottle of gin as an offering to the goddess of the volcano. It keeps her happy. Chris shakes his head and smiles. If anyone would know the Kilauea flight customs, it's Craig. He's flown thousands of flights, both on and off Hawaii, and has been over Kilauea probably hundreds of times.

Chris and Mike have flown with him on jobs before, but never over Kilauea.

Soon, the volcano looms before them. Chris looks down. Beneath him yawns the massive, jagged Pu'u'o'o crater. A white plume of toxic gas billows up from a vent at the bottom. The wind picks up, and Chris gets a whiff of sulfur. It smells like burnt matches and rotten eggs. Woo! You can smell that from here. Oh, it's like Satan's infernal farts. Chris starts to prepare the camera equipment, but

but Mike interrupts him. Better give that offering, Chris. Chris fumbles to get the bottle and throw it out the open door as Mike counts down. On three. One, two, three. Chris throws, but a gust of wind catches the bottle just as it leaves the chopper. It spins upward for a split second, then arcs away from the volcano.

Chris watches as the bottle plummets, then smashes just outside the rocky edge of the crater. Mike laughs. "Great throw, man. We said in the volcano. The wind caught it. I hope you don't piss off Madame Pele. She'll be fine. Let's just go get the shot."

Chris feels his weight shift beneath him as Craig turns the helicopter to face the crater. He checks the camera's remote controller one last time and hands it to Mike. Mike sits back in his seat, lines up the controls, and starts the camera rolling as they fly straight at the volcano.

30 minutes later, back at base camp, Mike Benson looks over the footage they just shot. He studies the contrast of the black lava rocks against the cloudy sky and frowns. He winds the tape back and watches again, hoping it'll somehow look better the second time. It doesn't. Chris looks over his shoulder. "What do you think, Mike?" Mike watches the tape a third time. The shot isn't bad.

But it isn't great either. As a special effects photographer, his job is to come back with something spectacular. He knows he can do better. He looks up at Chris. Let's do it again. Chris nods. Sure.

Whatever you need. Mike yells to Craig, who's standing outside the chopper, smoking a cigarette. We're going back for another round! Craig nods and stamps out his cigarette. You're the boss. Mike climbs back into the chopper and buckles in as they lift off for another run at the volcano.

Craig Hosking steadies the stick as he guides the helicopter back towards the rocky crater. For him, flying over the volcano is pretty routine. Usually, he's just taking tourists around the rim. This trip is a little different because he's flying into the crater itself. Still, even a novice pilot could handle it.

The one danger is the fumes. Volcanic fumes consist of water vapor, carbon dioxide, sulfur dioxide, and hydrogen sulfide. If a helicopter gets too deep in that mixture, there's not enough oxygen to burn fuel, and the engine can stall. The sulfuric compounds can also damage the engine's inner workings. So, every time Craig flies over Kilauea, he makes sure to steer well clear of that toxic white cloud.

The wind pushes upward as he banks around the crater. He heard there's a storm coming later today and he hopes it's not early. He wants to be long gone before that weather becomes a problem. He sees that the winds are pushing the smoke deeper into the bowl of the crater.

They may have to fly lower to get a clear shot. A gust shakes the helicopter and Craig gives his usual reassuring comment. Just a little turbulence, standard stuff. Mike laughs and takes the camera controls. Just keep it steady for the shot, Craig. No problem. Lining her up now and go.

But suddenly, the wind changes direction. The column of toxic fumes shifts and expands, drifting towards the helicopter, then quickly engulfing it. Craig's visibility drops to zero. He inhales a mouthful of sulfur dioxide and feels it stinging his throat, burning his eyes. He hears the other guys coughing along with him.

Craig turns the chopper to get out of the deadly whiteout. Then he hears something that makes his blood freeze. The engine sputters and stalls. The fumes have choked it out, depriving it of the oxygen it needs to function. Craig's stomach lurches as the 2,000-pound vehicle begins to plummet. He knows he has no hope of restarting the engine before they hit the ground. His only chance of saving them is a controlled descent.

He disengages the engine from the main rotors, letting the resistance of the helicopter's massive blades slow the chopper's fall, like a falling leaf slowly spinning to the ground. Craig has done it in simulation, but this is his first time in real life. He yells over his headset. Chris and Mike grip their seats. Despite Craig's best efforts, the chopper spins out of control. He can't see through the fumes.

He has no idea where they're going down. They could be falling straight into the vent full of molten lava. A dark wall emerges from the fumes. They're heading for the rocky side of the crater. Chris shouts, Look out!

Craig tries to bank the chopper, but he's too late. With a loud crack, the rotor blades snap off against the jagged rocks. The force pushes the chopper away from the wall as the severed blades spin off into the fog. For a few terrifying seconds, they free fall. Then the chopper hits the ground.

The men are rocked around in their seatbelts like ragdolls. Equipment smashes. Metal bends and breaks. Then, silence. Craig takes in the situation. All things considered, it could be a lot worse. The chopper has landed upright. He's alive. The other men are too. Then again, they're in a whiteout of poisonous gas. They're inhaling sulfur dioxide with every breath. They're inside an active volcano.

And nobody is coming to get them.

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He's alive, and so are Craig and Mike, but they're fully engulfed in the poisonous white fumes that are pouring out of the bottom of the crater. The steam is so thick that Chris can barely see his hand in front of his face. They need to move fast to wherever they can escape the fumes and catch their breath. Chris looks into the front seat and sees the dashboard of the chopper is smashed. He taps Mike on the shoulder.

Mike, are you okay? I think so. Craig? Yeah, nothing broken, I think. The bile rises in Chris's stomach as the smell of sulfur fills his nose and burns the back of his throat. He can feel his lungs convulsing as they fight to expel the poisonous gas. We gotta get out of here!

As Craig and Mike pry themselves from their seatbelts, Chris sees blood streaming down Craig's forehead. You sure you're alright, Craig? It's just a scratch. Must have bumped it on the dashboard. They scramble out of the chopper onto the rocky floor of the crater. Chris feels a blast of heat on his skin, like he's stepped into a sauna. He wonders how close they are to the lava pond in the center of the crater. But with the thick steam surrounding him, it's impossible to tell.

He squints at his surroundings.

Through the haze, he can barely see the steep wall of the crater rising in front of him. He doesn't know if it's the way to safety, but he does know it will take him farther from the heat and the fumes of the lava pool. That's good enough for him. He signals for Craig and Mike to follow. This way! The three men stumble across the sharp and jagged rocks, but then Mike stops. We've got to get the film! Chris looks back at the helicopter. The Plexiglas

The plexiglass bubble that held the camera is broken and the film magazine is lying on the ground. Instinctively, he starts moving towards the chopper, but then the reality of the situation hits him. Are you kidding? Yeah, what am I saying? Forget it! They resume their push towards the wall of the crater. Before long, it comes into focus. A massive edifice of dark volcanic stone. It looked imposing from the air,

Up close, it's even more daunting. The three lean against the wall and rest for a moment. The smell of sulfur is still overpowering, but Chris is relieved to discover he can breathe a little bit easier. He cranes his neck back to look up the steep slope of the crater wall.

Clean air seems to be gusting in from above, hugging the wall of the crater before it mixes with the toxic gas. Chris looks back in the direction of the chopper, barely visible through the fumes. Beyond it, he can make out the central vent of the crater, another 50 yards and they would have crashed in that vent and sunk into the lava.

He turns back to the wall of rock. He can't see the top clearly, but he thinks it's maybe two or three hundred feet high. Chris looks into the strained faces of the two other men.

"We can climb it and get out of here, right?" Craig and Mike nod. "Sounds like a plan. Let's move." Chris starts scrambling up the rough and ragged terrain. The other two follow. The surface of the crater wall is jagged. When Chris grabs the rocks to steady himself, he can feel their sharp edges digging into his palms. Still, he's making good progress. The slope is steep, but it's manageable.

It's difficult to keep a steady footing with all the loose rocks, but he continues to scramble upward. He stops for a moment to check on Mike and Craig. They're not as young and athletic as him, but they're making progress as well. Chris cups his hands around his mouth. "I'll scout ahead!" He keeps climbing towards a large rock, sturdy enough for him to clamber over it. Then another, large enough to put his feet on.

He's making good progress. He feels a wave of encouragement. The top can't be far away. Soon, he'll reach the rim. Three of them will escape and survive. But as he climbs over another boulder, his heart sinks. He can see the pathway towards the top more clearly, and it's getting steeper and steeper the closer it gets to the rim. A terrible realization hits him. The crater is bowl-shaped.

The slope is gentle near the bottom, but as it approaches the top, it's practically vertical. The higher they go, the more impossible the climb will become, but they don't have a choice. Staying at the bottom of the crater, where the toxic fumes are most concentrated, would be suicide. Chris keeps pushing forward, but when he grabs for the next rock, it comes loose from the wall. Look out!

he watches the rock tumble down the steep slope missing mike by inches you all right

Chris stops climbing and squints up through the haze towards the rim. He scans the terrain for places where he could get a foothold, but he doesn't see any. He's hit a dead end. He turns and calls down to Mike and Craig. Don't come up here! It's too steep! He takes a step back down to rejoin them and stumbles on the loose rocks. As he regains his balance, it dawns on him that if he falls down this slope, he's going to get hurt.

maybe even killed. The sharpest of the volcanic rocks are like knives. If he fell from this height, they could cut him into ribbons. Chris has no safe path down. He's trapped halfway up the crater wall, like a cat in a tree.

Craig Hosking clings to the side of the rock wall, gasping for air. 50 feet above him, Chris Duddy has just told them their only path out is a dead end. Mike Benson is just a few feet above him, but he seems frozen, like a deer in the headlights. Craig calls out to him. "Mike! You okay?" "I think so. We just gotta hang here until they send a rescue team, right?"

Craig shakes his head and shouts so Chris and Mike can both hear him. "Guys, no one knows we're down here!" In the chaos of the crash, Craig didn't have a chance to send a Mayday message. And the chances that anyone saw them go down are close to zero. It will be at least an hour before anyone even realizes they haven't returned to base camp. By then, they could be dead.

Asphyxiated by the fumes, Craig knows what he has to do. "I'm going back to the chopper to send a mayday. You sure it's safe?" "Nope, but I don't have a better idea." Craig takes a deep breath and starts back down the rocks. He feels the temperature climbing as he gets closer to the bottom of the crater. The noxious steam from the vent gets thicker. Craig feels himself struggling to breathe.

By the time he reaches the flatter surface of the bottom, he knows he needs to act fast. He takes a deep breath, holds it, and makes a break for the helicopter. Through the thick haze, the silhouette of the chopper emerges. Craig feels the pressure in his head and lungs building. He has to breathe. He exhales, gasps, and takes in a lung of sulfuric fumes. It's like swallowing burning matches.

His eyes water and he almost trips from the dizziness. But he manages to stay on his feet and keep going, which is the chopper. But every breath sends his lungs into spasms of coughing. He has to breathe fresher air. But the run back to the rock wall seems like a marathon. He sees a small hill about 50 feet away that just might elevate him above the worst of the fumes. He sprints forward and scrambles to the top.

and breathes. The air here is a little better. He does his best to take in what oxygen he can and cough the sulfur out of his lungs. Mike shouts to him from the wall. Craig, you okay down there? Yeah, just getting my second wind. Craig takes in a long breath and dives back into the fumes toward the helicopter.

He ducks inside and takes in the wreckage. Most of the equipment has been smashed and twisted by the crash. The dashboard is a broken mess, but the radio looks intact. He grabs the microphone and flicks it on. "Check, check." "Damn it." The radio is dead. Now what? Craig knows he has to find some way to repair the radio and send out a mayday, but his eyes are burning and he can't hold his breath much longer.

Mike Benson clings onto the rocks on the crater wall, gasping for breath. The air is fresher here than it was near the helicopter. Still, his lungs are burning. He pulls his shirt up over his mouth, hoping it will filter out the toxic fumes. He looks up the wall of the crater. Through the haze, he can see Chris curled up on a rock ledge no more than a couple feet wide. Hey Chris, how you holding up?

Mike shakes his head. He's encountered some extreme conditions during his long career making movies, but nothing even remotely close to this. He looks back down into the crater, trying to spot the helicopter, but it's totally shrouded in the toxic steam. Craig! How you doing down there? Radio's out.

Before Mike can reply, he's racked with a violent coughing fit. The sulfur is scorching his lungs. Every breath is agony. He has to find some better air. He looks above and spots a rocky alcove set deeper into the crater wall. As he inches towards it, rocks give way under his feet. He struggles to stay upright. Finally, after a few minutes, he reaches the small alcove and pulls himself into it.

He takes a breath and is relieved to find that the air is fresher here. If he can stay inside the alcove, he can avoid the worst of the fumes. As he leans against the crater wall, he feels a rising sense of dread. How long can any of them stay alive in this hellish landscape? He pictures his wife Stephanie and his two grown kids, Garrett and Danielle. He has no idea if he'll ever see them again.

Craig Hosking searches through the helicopter for something to power the radio. He can only take a few breaths before the sulfur causes him to hack again. He finds a flashlight with working batteries, but they're the wrong voltage. The radio needs 24 volts to power up.

Then he spots Chris's camera bag in the back seat and quickly zips it open. His eyes light up. A camera battery. He checks the back of the small plastic cartridge. It's 24 volts. He can feel his lungs fighting to expel the toxic gas. He grips the battery in his palm and rushes back to the hill, hacking and spitting the whole way. When he reaches the hill, he collapses onto his knees and vomits. He hears Mike in the distance.

Craig, still with us? So far. After catching his breath, Craig gets to work. He pulls out a pair of pliers he rescued from the chopper's toolkit and uses them to take the case off the battery. He carefully strips the insulation off the ends of two exposed wires. He takes a deep breath and holds it as he rushes back to the helicopter. He ducks under the dashboard and searches for the radio's power leads.

The wires under the dash. Tangled mess. But Craig manages to locate the radio's power cables. He yanks them loose from the helicopter battery and strips the insulation with his pliers. As his body heaves from another coughing fit, Craig takes the wires from the radio and the camera batteries.

and twist them together. The radio springs to life. Craig can't believe he pulled it off, but he knows there's no time to celebrate. He grabs the handset. Mayday! Mayday! Helicopter down in Kilauea. Can anyone hear me? There's nothing. Craig can feel his lungs fighting to expel the sulfur. Mayday! Mayday! Mayday! We've crashed in Pu'u'o'o Crater. Can anyone...

Suddenly, there's a voice on the other end. "Roger, Mayday. We can hear you. Did you say you're in, Kano?" Craig nearly collapses with relief. Help may finally be coming, but with each passing second, it's getting harder to breathe. He wonders if he, Mike, and Chris can hold out long enough to get rested.

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Producer Laura Wiederman holds the phone away from her ear. She's trying to talk to someone from the Hawaii County Fire Department about rescuing her camera crew, but the fire department rep is letting her have it. They shouldn't have been flying directly over the crater. It's way too dangerous, especially today when there's a storm coming. Laura's been shouted at a hundred times before by angry producers, angry directors.

But this time, someone's life is at stake.

She chooses her next words carefully. Look, I understand why you're upset, but we had a permit to be there. Every relevant agency signed off on it. Now, are you going to rescue my guys or not? The county fire rep relents. Of course we are. We're coordinating with the park service to put together a team right now. Laura pushes for details. The park service has already put out a call for a rescue chopper to make an emergency airlift, and one of the local aviation companies has responded.

The pilot's on his way to the crater as they speak. And what if the airlift doesn't work? What's plan B? We're working on that. When the call ends, Laura sits in silence for a moment, anxiously tapping her fingers on her desk. Then she picks up the phone and dials the number for her boss at Paramount. She needs to alert the studio to what's happening and see if they can come up with their own plan B, just in case.

Don Shearer pilots his chopper through grey clouds and a darkening sky toward Kilauea Volcano. Just a few hours ago, he was in the office of his charter flight company back on Maui, doing some paperwork. Then he got the call from the park service. Three people, including his friend Craig Hosking, crash-landed inside an active crater on the volcano's eastern rim.

Don jumped right into action. He stopped to pick up a park ranger and headed straight for Kilauea. Don circles the smoke-filled cauldron of Pu'u O'o, looking for any sign of the survivors. The ranger in the co-pilot seat shakes his head. It's a mess down there. You're telling me...

Don's only been a chopper pilot in Hawaii for about six years. In that short time, he's rescued swimmers from 30-foot waves and helped the police airlift bales of illegal marijuana. But he's never done anything remotely like this. A storm has come in and put a low-pressure system over the top of the volcano. Noxious white fumes have filled up the crater like a bowl of soup.

Even spotting the survivors is going to be tough. Landing inside could be outright impossible. As he crests over the lip of the crater, the volcanic fumes fill the cabin. They're worse than he expected.

Don! You okay? Don! Thanks. That was close.

He circles over the crater again, higher this time to avoid the deadly clouds of steam and smoke. He doesn't know how he's going to find a way into this soup. He needs the wind to shift before he can even think about a rescue attempt. It was the fumes that brought down the first chopper, and there's no way he's letting the same thing happen to him.

Craig Hosking looks up from his hill as he tries to catch his breath. The fumes seem to be growing thicker by the minute. He realizes it must be the storm, pushing all the volcanic gases back down into the crater. If help doesn't come soon, he could suffocate. He hears the sound of a distant chopper. It's coming closer. Craig dashes through the fog and into his crashed helicopter to get on the radio.

Mayday, mayday! Can you hear me? Roger, we hear you. We're circling the crater now. The rescue pilot tells him he's waiting for a break in the fumes. The moment they see an opening, they'll pounce on it. But when that happens, Craig will have to run straight to them. They won't have much time. The wind could shift in an instant, turning their landing zone into a potential death trap.

Craig feels the breeze kick up from the helicopter's rotors and sees the noxious clouds lift just a bit.

Then he hears the chopper touch down. He can't see it through the fumes, but from the sound of its rotors, he can tell it's close. He yells as loud as he can, hoping the others can hear him over the roar of the blades. "Mike! Chris! Get down here if you can! There's a chopper!" But he can't wait for them. He has to move. Now, he makes a break for it, running toward the sound of the still spinning blades.

He could only see a few feet in front of him. He stumbles over a jagged rock and nearly goes face first into the hot ground. But somehow, he catches himself and keeps going. He sees a shape through the haze. It's the chopper. With his last breath, Craig sprints the final few yards. The park ranger grabs him by the shirt and pulls him in through the chopper's open door. The pilot shouts, "I'm getting us out of here now!"

The helicopter's engine sputters as it lifts slowly into the air. For a moment, it hovers just a few feet off the ground, and Craig worries that it's about to stall out, just like his did. But then he hears the whine of the blades kicking into high gear, and seconds later, they're above the crater and out of the fumes. Safe. Craig lies back on the floor of the chopper, coughing and tasting the sulfur in his throat. He can't believe it.

But he's safe. He looks down in shock to see just how bad the fumes in the volcano have gotten. The crater is a mass of white. He can't see the bottom or any trace of Mike and Chris.

He yells to the pilot. "We have to go back! We can't leave them there!" "Not now! It's a nightmare in that crater, and this storm, it's getting nasty. We'll have to come back tomorrow!" "Tomorrow?" Craig's heart sinks, but he knows the pilot is right. With no visibility, they have no hope of finding the others, and the sun is already starting to drop. But Craig doesn't know if Chris and Mike can hold on until tomorrow.

When he was down there, he didn't think he'd make it another hour. As the rescue chopper flies him to safety, Craig looks back at the murky crater one more time and fights back tears. He can't help but feel responsible for Mike and Chris. After all, he was their pilot. He can't believe he's being forced to leave them behind. Now, he can only pray that his colleagues, his friends, will survive the night.

From his tiny rock ledge, Chris Duddy shouts into the void, "Craig! Craig!" But he doesn't get a reply. Chris has no idea why Craig has suddenly stopped answering. Did the fumes finally get to him? Did he wander off in search of some other way out?

Chris doesn't even want to think about the other possibility. A few minutes ago, he definitely heard the sound of a helicopter. He thought it had meant rescue, but now the helicopter sound is gone too. Could Craig have flown out on it? But no, he would never leave them behind like that.

From somewhere below, he hears Mike shout. Chris doesn't know how much more he can take. A cold, hard rain has started falling.

A minute ago, Chris was roasting from the volcanic heat. Now he's damp and shivering. Volcanic soot trickles down his face and stings his eyes. Rays of amber light cut through the clouds and the thick smoke. From his work in cinematography, Chris knows that means it's golden hour.

A few moments of stunning orange light before the sun sets. He normally cherishes this time of day. But when the sun goes down, Chris knows it's only going to get colder. And then they'll have to spend the night here and survive the fumes, the storm, and the unstable rocks. As Chris watches the last rays of sunshine disappear, he wonders if it's the last sunset he'll ever see.

This is episode one of our two-part series, Crash in a Volcano. A quick note about our scenes. In most cases, we can't exactly know what was said, but everything is based on historical research.

I'm your host, Mike Corey. Eric Trueheart wrote this episode. Our editor is Sean Raviv. Our audio engineer is Sergio Enriquez. Sound design is by Joe Richardson. Our script consultant is Christopher Duddy. Produced by Matt Alamos and Emily Frost. Our coordinating producer is Matt Gant. Our managing producer is Tonja Thigpen.

Our senior producer is Andy Herman. Our executive producers are Jenny Lauer Beckman, Stephanie Jens, and Marshall Louis for Wondery. Wondery.

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