Thread: hunting incompetence

Originally Posted by Dan

Crawled out of my Hammock at 2am last weekend to go take a suddenly very urgent nocturnal poo.
Went wandering off into the broken Wilding pine regrowth on flat country in nothing but long johns and a headlamp that only works when you hold the wiring just the right angle, in search of a rock or log under which to deposit an offering.
After venturing further and further from camp, the right stump presented itself and the job was done.

Then, oddly, the very steady and reliable northwester seemed to be coming from the wrong direction. Hmmm. Now all the trees looked the same, and the local featureless topography offered nothing in terms of reference or familiarity. Panic set in. The gusts grew colder and the headlamp wiring seemed to become even more finicky.
I stood next to the turd log and pondered my next move.
The broken storm cloud permitted little in the way of light to pass, and though there were glittering windows of night sky showing, the friendly face of the moon was nowhere to be found.
I contemplated shouting at the top of my lungs, for salvation by those at camp who were soundly sleeping through my ordeal, but the shame of being rescued from a toileting exercise was too great to bear.
I silently thought about my unusual plight, and the legitimate danger I might encounter by blundering wildly off in search of camp, estimating that I was already at least a few hundred metres from the fading warmth of my sleeping bag.

I was about to start a toilet paper breadcrumb trail expedition from the turd log, when, to what felt like the North, in a larger gap in the churning cloud, shone the Southern Cross, incontrovertible evidence of my folly.

The Northwester blew once again from the Northwest, and the headlamp decided it would function properly for a little while, and forty minutes after naively waddling out into the darkness, I very stealthily slipped into my Hammock and lay awake, hoping nobody had heard my departure and arrival and was subsequently aware of the eternity between.

This was the story of how I once (last weekend) got lost taking a shit and found my way home by Celestial Navigation.

Well told, mate. Some genuine wordsmithing skills there.