What followed was not just a fight for survival — it became a lesson in resilience, grief, and the power of instinct.
A Dream Vacation Turned Tragic
Annette and her partner William van der Pas, known affectionately as “Pasje,” had been together for 13 years. She was a high-performing trader; he was the head of the Vietnam branch of Internationale Nederlanden Bank. After six months apart due to work, they finally planned a romantic reunion — beginning in Ho Chi Minh City and continuing to the serene beaches of Nha Trang.
But just 50 minutes into Vietnam Airlines Flight 474, tragedy struck. The Yakovlev Yak-40 jet crashed into a remote mountain range. Only one passenger would survive: Annette Herfkens.
A Gut Feeling Before the Fall
Annette, a lifelong claustrophobe, felt uneasy as soon as she boarded the outdated Soviet-built plane. William reassured her with a white lie — the flight would be quick. But when 40 minutes passed and they were still in the air, fear set in.
“I reached for his hand… then everything went black. Seconds later, we hit,” she recalled.
She woke up beneath the wreckage, trapped under a deceased passenger, and quickly realized William was gone — still strapped in his seat, unmoving, smiling.
Survival Mode: Pure Instinct and Mindfulness
Despite her shattered hip, broken leg, and collapsed lung, Annette crawled from the wreckage. For the next eight days, she survived on sheer instinct and resourcefulness.
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She used yoga breathing to manage her lung injury.
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She collected rainwater using insulation from the wreckage.
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She sipped water every two hours and praised herself for staying alive.
“That also makes you survive,” she said. “Mindfulness — before we even had the word.”
At first, she wasn’t alone. A few passengers were alive. One gave her clothes. But as the days passed, their voices faded, and Annette was left surrounded by the dead.
Declared Dead — But She Was Still Fighting
Back home, obituaries were printed. Her boss sent a condolence letter. But her colleague, Jaime Lupa, refused to believe she was gone. He vowed to bring her back to her family.
On Day 8, a miracle occurred: A rescue team arrived — expecting only to recover bodies. They were stunned to find Annette alive.
Life After the Crash: Love, Loss, and Healing
After returning home, she faced new challenges: attending her fiancé’s funeral, undergoing surgeries, and learning to walk again. She returned to work by February 1993 — just months after the crash.
But the emotional healing took much longer.
Years later, Annette married Jaime Lupa, the friend who fought to bring her home. They had two children together, Joosje and Max, before eventually divorcing. She carried forward the strength of the jungle, always honoring the man she lost.
“Once I accepted I wasn’t with my fiancé on the beach… I saw what was there. And it was this beautiful jungle.”
“Turbulence”: Her Story, Her Words
Her survivor’s mindset became the foundation for her book, Turbulence: A True Story of Survival, and later, her career as a motivational speaker. She believes it wasn’t luck that saved her — it was instinct.
“You learn from taking losses,” she says. “If I had been medicated as a child, I might not have developed the qualities I needed to survive.”
From Jungle Survivor to Autism Advocate
When her son Max was diagnosed with autism, she drew from the same survival instinct:
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She focused on what was there, not what was missing.
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She prepared him for real-life scenarios — even taking him on “dry runs” to the police station.
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She connected with inclusive communities to help other parents facing similar struggles.
“You have to mourn what’s not there — but focus on what is.”
The Jungle Is Still Her Safe Place
To this day, Annette marks the anniversary of the crash every year by sipping water and buying herself a gift. She avoids sitting behind people on planes and rarely eats Vietnamese food — but she’s still here.
“You get over your little self. Then instinct kicks in. That’s when you achieve.”
The jungle, the very place where she lost everything, remains her emotional sanctuary.
Because for Annette Herfkens, survival isn’t just a moment. It’s a way of living — rooted in instinct, shaped by loss, and filled with gratitude.
