A cursory scan of the car park revealed ten eager trampers kitted out with bulging packs, solid tramping boots, Swandri shirts and rugby socks. Rick Collins took this all in with a note of scorn.

"They all look stupid," he grumbled to himself.

Those who had come to know the spiky-haired, short eighteen-year-old, had found him to be generally untrustworthy, complaining and selfish. He had no idea that the following weekend would change his life forever.

It was early autumn and there was a slight chill in the air. The six males and four females were assembled in the car park, making final preparations for a weeklong tramp in Fiordland. On this expedition they would be exploring some more of the remote areas of the park. One of their main reasons for doing this was so that they might be able to study a few of the native animals in their natural environment. The only reason that Rick had come on the trip was because Chris, the tramp leader, was one of his Polytech tutors and persuaded him to come, thinking it would do him some good.

At 10 am, Chris gave the "We're off," signal and dense, dark native bushes soon enveloped them. The rhythmic sound of their boots scuffing along the stony walkway, spooked birds out of trees and sent them franticly flapping away in a rush of feathers and falling leaves.

The smell of decaying vegetation met Rick's nostrils and he immediately squawked his complaint.

"This stinks and I can't see properly."

"You'll get used to it," replied Chris in his calm, collected tone.

Somewhere nearby a creek gurgled its way through the roots of hundreds of trees, then washed and swished down to the sea. The varied textures of bark were like patchwork and their branches extended up as if they were hands reaching for the ever elusive sun. Little ground ferns stood like little men with green hair do's; in other places they covered the ground like a luxuriant green carpet.
After around six hours of tramping, with a stop for lunch, the posse reached a grassy clearing and set up camp. The smell of cooking camp food soon wafted through the quiet bush.

"When's tea ready," whined Rick, "I bet it's yucks."

Silence greeted him. A beautiful golden sunset was slipping behind the treetops and the last birdcalls of the day rang out sharp. Their appeal was wasted on Rick. After the meal, Chris took out his little diary and announced the next day's plans.

" Ok, tomorrow I think we'll do a bit of exploring around one of the more remote fiords. The weather forecast says it will be sunny so I bet we'll have a lovely day."

Everyone then retired to bed to get enough sleep for the next day's excursions.

The early morning sun punctuated the crisp air and glistening frost crystals. People breakfasted then packed up. Rick just moped around. Once everything was ready, they moved off in the direction of the fiord.

The rough track led them along sharp ridges and through deep valleys. On their way, they caught views of the motionless water reflecting the clear azure sky and the shear sided mountains jutting straight up from the shoreline.

When they reached Dusky Hut, they swapped large packs for smaller ones and took warmer clothes, food, and water. Walking out of the hut, Chris noticed some clouds on the horizon but that did not worry him.

At lunch, the line of clouds had advanced. But the group had discovered a fresh pile of kiwi dung and everyone, except Rick and Bradley, was excited. These two decided to explore and meet the others in an hour. As they were leaving, Rick questioned Bradley as to why he hadn't followed the kiwi.

"Oh, I just came for the fun of a tramp," came the easy-going reply. After half an hour's wandering away from the track, the pair came across a large slip, dropping away into a long valley.

"Wow," exclaimed Bradley, "that looks dangerous."

The pair continued for another five minutes then turned and jogged back because it was growing cold. As they were coming past the landslide, John's foot slipped on a root. Fortunately, it came down on a rock.

"Phew" he breathed.

Then the rock gave way! Down he plunged, rolling like a rag doll, with rocks plummeting after him. He hit the bottom with a sickening thud.

The look on Rick's face was one of shock and he was rooted to the spot for a couple of seconds, then he snapped out of it and began scrambling down the slide. He soon discovered that doing this dislodged more rocks that went hurtling down, narrowly missing Bradley. So, he gingerly moved to the bush on the left hand side.

As he was descending, he felt a large drop of water hit his cheek. A glance upward revealed menacing black clouds, but more on his mind was getting to the bottom. Upon reaching Bradley, he found him still breathing, so he heaved him over his shoulder and stumbled over the bloodied rocks to a large beech tree where he placed him underneath. One thing he remembered about First Aid was that you had to keep the victim warm. The biting wind and increasing rain would soon chill Bradley so, after covering him with all their warm clothing, he gathered materials to build a shelter with. The product was a fairly good "A" shaped job.

He then crawled in to inspect Bradley. Breathing was erratic and pulse weak, but he was hanging on. His head had lost a large patch of skin, an arm and a leg were probably broken, and that was all he could find. Realising now that he was cold, he crawled outside to run around.

The first thing he noticed was that the wind had stopped blowing and there were now white snowflakes falling. Never having been in snow in his life, he just stood staring in wonder. But he quickly realised that this meant danger.

Rick suddenly felt a great surge of helplessness sweep over him. He fell on his knees and broke down into tears. Once he recovered, he saw it was getting darker and colder. Crawling back into the hut he looked towards John. A flicker of eyelids.

"Bradley!" he screamed.

"Uh," came the mute reply.

"Bradley, I'm so happy you're awake, can you keep any food down?"

A piece of squashed banana was placed in his mouth. The stiff jaws moved up and down and it was swallowed, but kept down. Sleep now came over Rick like a wave and he shut his eyes, cold though he was and slept. A long night was frequented with dreams of flying kiwis leading people off cliffs.

Morning came with numb fingers and toes. Rick uncurled from his cramped position and found some chocolate to eat. He crawled outside to look around and found himself in shin-deep, freezing snow. Back in the hut he leaned over Bradley, "You awake?"

"Yep."

"Here have some water."

Bradley's cracked red lips opened just enough to let water trickle in. The two decided after a couple of minutes of limited dialogue, that it was necessary for Rick to go for help. Although he may not make it, he knew that he had to go.

Pretty sure he could remember the way back; he started on his journey. After trudging through the snow for half an hour, Rick totally lost his sense of direction and felt quite dizzy. Sleepiness fell over him and he thought he heard something off to his right. Rick Collins stopped in his tracks, dropped to his knees, and fell into an exhausted unconsciousness.

When he awoke, he thought he was in a dream. Chris was sitting on his left and in a hospital bed on his right lay the beaten form of Bradley. When it all clicked, Rick was as overjoyed as his broken body would let him. Chris smiled down and received a beaming grin.

Bradley was treated for several broken bones including a fractured skull. Rick was treated for hypothermia and severe dehydration. It turned out that the helicopter had followed Rick's tracks in the snow right back to the make-shift shelter.

When every thing had calmed down, Rick was awarded for his bravery and quick thinking in the situation. After all this, there was a change in Rick's life. He started to lose his old attitude and gained more friends because of this. He always handled tough situations well and never complained when they came about. He and Bradley became great friends and did nearly everything together, including a lot of tramping.