Keith Morris, from New Zealand, narrates his thrilling story:


Lost in the woods, all alone

   Whenever the weather turns cold and I start having an unpleasant tingling sensation in my limbs, my mind is transported back to those ten painfully unforgettable days when I was lost in the forest of Kaimanava mountains battling fatigue, starvation and freezing temperatures. Almost frostbitten, what kept me going was a glimmering hope mixed with prayer and determination . On the ninth day, the biggest search operation by police involving 200 men, was abandoned as I was presumed dead. Everybody had lost hope of finding me, but I hadn't.


  The call of the mountains and the valleys had always been irresistible for me in spite of the unpredictable nature of climate in such places.

   I was 18. One afternoon, as I was trampling the woods surrounding Hinemaia valley in Kaimanava mountains, I found my path occluded by a narrow gorge. A log lay across and I thought that the trunk would bear my weight. Unfortunately, it festered and gave way half-way, pitching me about five meters down. The impact didn't hurt my rugged body but it broke my compass and confidence, my only companions during a trail. Regathering my .303 rifle, I scrambled up the gorge. How long would it take for me to reconnect with my companions with just three sachets of barley sugar remaining in my pocket?

   What followed was a bone-shattering expedition ravaged by rumbling stomachs, rain-drenched clothes, freezing winds and unreal visions interlaced with the hope of connecting with the reality which I was once very much a part of.


   Every falling night used to turn my every hope into gloom. Finding a dry spot on those damp nights was a luxury. My matches were damp, too, and all my attempts to light them ended in smoke. Never before had I experienced such panic which wrecked me then. It was as real as the hunger inside my stomach. I couldn't see any berries on the trees, no deer, no rabbits either. The most terrible killer in such situation could be hypothermia (dip in the body temperature), induced in your body after a long rest. Even though I was numb with cold, I stumbled on and on. I had to flail my arms every now and then to keep blood circulation going. Sometimes, the snow fell heavily and I had to save my face from whipping icy winds. Nights were very chilly and agonizing, deepening my loneliness as I lay down, shivering uncontrollably on the mattress of soaked twigs I used to gather using my sheath knife.

   In the meantime, my parents had informed the police and they had already started a search and rescue operation right from the day I wasn't found.

   One afternoon, I did hear a plane flying low above the Jungle I was groping through. I succeeded in lighting the fire and creating smoke. On another occasion, I heard a helicopter hovering around the valley. I screamed and waved. On none of the occasions I was spotted, I sank to my knees, frustrated, sobbing bitterly.


   I don't remember but I must have had an impact on my head when I fell down in the gorge while crossing on that rotten log. For a few moments, I had lost my sense of time and the world seemed a fiction. I had visions of toasted-cheese sandwiches when hunger was intolerable and I knew that they were illusions until I tried to pick them up to my lips. I felt the eerie jungle spinning around me in those quite alienated moments and every strange voice coming from the wilderness created the visions of monsters. My sense of time was muddled and I was detached from my surroundings. One afternoon, I saw a herd of Sika deer in the distance. I prayed, this shouldn't be an illusion. It wasn't. I steadied my rifle which seemed so heavy and pulled the trigger. The rifle quavered and the bullet zipped away in another direction. The deer fled away. Exhausted and powerless, I lay there unable to summon my strength. It snowed heavily that night and the ice beads stung into my face. Total collapse was nearing fast, my final breath seemed just a few hours away.

   It was my tenth day. I had drunk water from the creeks; the woods, however, had denied me any food. The sunlight was visible and there was a welcome warmth in the air. I gathered some strength and shuffled on. As I cleared the tangle of vines on my aimless journey, suddenly I saw a vast expanse of blue water shimmering beyond a hill. I was near Lake Taupe, an indication that there must be a few inhabitants and their homes in that area. What was near - deadline of my journey or deadline for me?

   At dusk, I couldn't believe my eyes when I saw a farmhouse with a streak of light coming out from it. Kevin Johnston and his wife had come across the news of my absence on the radio. With great care, they took me in as I knocked on their door. Without waiting for food or drink, I immediately rang up my parents....

   After losing 13 kilos, I knew I was back in the animated and occupied world of human beings again!

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