TRUE-LIFE
I was newly wed yet digging my own grave
Angela Demaio, 31
As the sweeping scenery spread out before me, I couldn’t resist pulling out my camera.
‘Oi,’ my new husband Jack, then 29, laughed. ‘Talk about a busman’s holiday.’ I giggled.
Me and Jack were both photographers.
So even though we were on honeymoon, I couldn’t resist taking snaps.
Me and Jack had wed in December 2022.
Now it was May 2023 and we were visiting the driest place in North America and the hottest place on Earth, Death Valley in California.
Not a traditional honeymoon. But we had bonded over our love of adventure.
Sitting on a sun lounger in the Maldives was never going to be for us.
Now, looking at the desert’s golden sand dunes and snow-white salt flats, I’d no regrets.
We’d arrived at the Racetrack, a dry, remote lakebed known for its mysterious moving rocks, and I couldn’t resist capturing every detail. ‘Time to go,’ Jack called. Clambering back into our van, Jack started the engine and we set off.
Instead of returning the way we’d come, we took a scenic mountain route. It was stunning.
But after a few minutes, the landscape changed.
The dry riverbed we were driving through became steep, rocky and narrow.
It became impossible to turn around.
I fell silent, sensing danger as Jack drove.
Several times we had to stop to push rocks out of the way or fill a hole in the treacherous riverbed.
Hoping with every bend there’d be somewhere to turn back.
After two hours, we hit a boulder and the van wedged on top of it. Stuck.
‘It’s going to be OK,’ I said, trying to be positive.
But it was impossible to dig ourselves out.
I went to call emergency services, but looking at my phone screen, I wailed.
‘There’s no signal,’ I cried, panic building.
Alone and scared, I looked around for shelter
We were in the middle of nowhere. Hadn’t seen another soul all day.
I stared out of the window at the desert, home to deadly rattlesnakes, scorpions and coyotes.
It was now a scorching 35C, and nobody knew where we were.
As the sun began to set that night, any thoughts of staying positive were long gone.
‘Don’t worry,’ Jack soothed. ‘We’ll sleep in the van, then hike out at sunrise.’
Reassured, I snuggled up to him.
At dawn, we set off on foot. We were out of sunblock, but we still had plenty of water and our map.
Hours and hours passed as we trudged through the hellish heat.
I felt so weak, the sun sapping my strength.
After around 27 miles, we came across some salt flats.
Jack peered at the map, but by
