Ericka O’Shea’s eligibility came through the day she broke her ankle.

As a volunteer for the Bream Head Conservation Trust, she and her husband were staking out trap lines in the claustrophobic foliage of Te Whara Track near Whangarei, when she heard a jarring crack.

“I was walking on a benign part of the track, and I put my foot on some tree roots with leaves over them. My right foot slipped, and I buckled down over my left foot,” O’Shea says.

The sound was like a snapping twig, but the shock travelled through her body.

“At first I kept my composure and went through what I thought could be wrong,” she says. “I ruled out a sprain, because I could feel the bones cracking.”

With “intermittent black spots” in the mobile coverage, O’Shea’s husband hunted out a patch of reception to report the situation to the ranger in charge, who rushed to the site with several experienced trampers to assess the feasibility of a ground rescue.

“Once they determined it was too complicated to get me out, the ranger used his GPS device to directly call Northland Rescue Helicopters to give them our coordinates,” O’Shea says.

While awaiting the airlift, O’Shea was made as comfortable as possible.

“I’d been through worse pain, and my husband and I are ex-Airforce, so we have a lot of experience and have been trained to help in these situations,” she says.

“We went through the normal procedures, making sure we were in a safe area and keeping my foot elevated and stable.”

Before long, the chopper arrived and lowered a medic into a clearing nearby.

He tramped in from there and approved the location for a rescue. Moments later, O’Shea was on a stretcher, being winched to safety – though not for the first time in her life. 

“When I was in the Airforce, I worked on a squadron with helicopters, so we were always practising for this type of event,” she says. “The logistics manager would often get us to come out of the office and be guinea pigs, so I’ve been winched several times.”

This was, however, O’Shea’s first time flying as a patient, and the relief was  tangible.

“It was a great feeling to know it wasn’t going to go on and on for hours, and I would be in hospital quickly,” she says.

While recovering, O’Shea learned her experience had gained her access into one of Aotearoa’s most exclusive fraternities – the Haast Club – which she subsequently joined.

Named after Haast’s eagle, the charitable club is open only to those who have been rescued by helicopter.

Club founder, Northland Rescue helicopter pilot and sculptor Susan Dinkelacker, says the now-extinct bird of prey is the perfect emblem to represent the club.

“The Haast’s eagle is the largest ever to have lived, and rumour has it that it could even pick up a man, as it used to prey on moa,” she says.