I love what you can find out about people in situations like that. Mostly it discloses characteristics about a person that I despise and they get binned phone number deleted , email to the spam filter, all that. Get the hell off my planet.
Occasionally though one finds a gem, eg:
A party of six of us went off. The 6th member was a guy I'd known for about a year in a completely unrelated environment. Apparently he'd done a bunch of camping in Wales, and I knew for a fact he'd rubbed shoulders with some clued up people - he used to take the short trip from Castle Green to guest on some army shooting ranges too. Potential for leet skillz, right?
Still, although I know he wont sh1t me, I've got no eyewitness accounts and much can get lost in language. So, what kit is he going to bring? Clue one; he's going to retrieve his waterproof sleeping bag. Me thinks; no such bag exists, perhaps he's got some kind of bivy combo or maybe I'm ignorant and Fairydown or someone has developed something I don't know of. Anyway...
It's when we muster at a third blokes house for kick off I get mah next batch of clues. His rucksack is crap and his clothing appalling. By chance he has great boots but that's it. Jeans and wool and a coat that looked like a prop from child's gothic, horror, Blade, vampire movie. He's surpassed oops and I'm thinking this could get fun. By christ he's going to suffer.
Day three and he's no food left. He's bought things he liked and relied on cooking them on a fire so far. This makes me laugh. One of us is a well lampooned vegetarian but matey will now accept a couple of vegetarian sausages from him at once. Cold and hunger and constant sleet beating down on you can do that to you. He must be getting kinda tired now too. So far he's been pitching up a cheapo bit of blue plastic as a tarp. It never looks like a happy proud erection at the start and by morning it's a flapping collapsed mess. Still, while nobody gives a toss about his discomfort he's safe. He won't die.
The theme repeats over the next couple of days and it's time for hope anyway. But matey is looking grim. I don't think he's been dry since day two and both pairs of gloves he's had off me I can wring water from. He's shivering constantly and has no hat. He didn't start with one and he doesn't have a hood. Buzzcut offers little protection. His once black coat is now a navy blue sponge and I can imagine the quagmire under it fermenting.
Just for the cherry on the top the last stretch is about ten miles and most of it is uphill. Before we do that though we're going to do a river crossing. Why not, we're going home anyway. The river isn't wide but it is deep and flows fast. That day it is very deep 'cos it comes halfway up the fallen log. Hah, no chickening out with this one, pass or fail. There is no dry shuffle across option. You walk the walk or you fall in. Matey opts for the shuffle. Let's be clear He probably can't get much wetter but he can get a bit colder. Now he's dragging his wet nads along the bark in saddle formation and both legs are submerged to mid thigh. He looks real ill after that but ho hum the home straight should warm him up a little. We can a keep pace with the sounds of his soaked jeans rubbing and the squelch of his hilarious feet.
Moral of the story I've never seen a more sorry looking camper. I'm certain that the adversity and that he had no idea where we were at any given time, or exactly when it would end, conspired to give him feelings of genuine peril at times. And there are few that take on such discomfort by choice, he could have bailed. He didn't bitch once. Solid. Like a machine. He's a great learner. No mistake will ever be repeated. He's one of he closest people to me now. I like that.
Ramble over.
