So I was sitting in a backcountry hut the other week. Main divide out the window with tahr, cham, and stags frolicking on the alpine meadows. Pure bliss, at least until I made the mistake of visiting the hut reading material..
“Otago uni tramping club antics magazine” sounds entertaining, I thought.
Flicking through I see a trip report featuring a chap I know as Joe_90, so I have a read. Taking a rifle on a tramping trip, yep. Getting lost, then falling off a bank and landing on said rifle, yep definitely Joe.
Then I turn the page to be confronted with a picture of said Joe, standing stark naked in a cave, with only the poor abused Howa for cover.
Bloody traumatic.
Bookmarks