TREKKING IN NEW ZEALAND in Short stories

FUNNIEST TRAIL STORY - MEETING KIWI BOGANS, HOOLIGANS, OR MONGRELS (whichever title suits) Warning graphic and vulgar language!

So after a long days hiking I arrive at the DOC (Department of Conservation Hut) called Carey’s hut on Lake Mavora in Southland. I select my bunk take off my boots and pull up an old chair outside to enjoy the beautiful late afternoon sunshine, cool breeze, then up pulls a Land Rover with a Fishing guide and his two well outfitted charges and their flash gear looking slightly down their noses at my tired disheveled self they pull out sandwiches and cold beer and offer me nothing but awkward glances and polite pleasantries. They soon get back on the dirt track with a polite wave out the window and disappear down the valley.

Next pulls up a green Ute, or as us Americans would say pick up truck, and out pours Tim the toothless Farmer of mid age slim of stature quite tall wearing tattered tired clothes, short shorts, gum boots, (tall wellies or rain boots), typical kiwi bloke gear, with a home cut mop of blond hair and a funny toothless smile and his 14 and 16 year sons Caleb and Xavier both lanky like their Dad with mischief in their eyes all of them drinking pre mixed cans of bourbon and Kola and smoking hand rolled cigarettes, yes all of them including the kids. Then spills out of the Ute the heavily tattooed skin head strongly built Mitch stocky 6’ tall and intimidating stance and glare and his pit bull Cain, who is so massive, pit American bulldog cross, I actually murmur oh shit!. Mitch has a mix of homemade, prison, and professional tattoos including a large front neck tattoo of the Australian flag which is an attention getter. He spills out of the Ute with the almost empty case of Bourbon and Kola cans under his arm and promptly says “g’day mate would you like a Bourbon” I politely decline and Tim wanders over to explain to me they are here to go spotlighting (shooting) deer, fishing, go eeling and drink and celebrate with his sons some good guy time as a send off for Mitch as he is being deported back to Aussie for some violent punch ups!

They start unloading the Ute and out comes guns, eel nets, eel pitch forks, fishing gear, food and several liter bottles of Grants whiskey, chain saws, extra fuel, and camping gear laughing and joking and drinking up a storm and inviting me to participate in the fun as Tim says “it’s Kiwi hospitality mate take whatever you want what we have your welcome too”.

Tim soon starts cooking up sausages as they have drunk the Bourbon and Kola dry and started on the whiskey before I know it a sausage wrapped in buttered white bread is thrust in front of me with a, “get some good kiwi tucker into you Rob, get a feed on you’ve got some distance to go tomorrow” I’m hungry it tastes great and I think of the snobby fisherman vs the toothless farmer and his mate the criminal being deported and the huge gap in genuine hospitality!

Night is falling I climb into my sleeping bag and notice the first liter of Grants is gone Tim is pissed as (drunk) lights a fire and almost falls in and Mitch now has thrash metal blasting on his phone and Caine the pure white massive pit bull with the biggest head I’ve seen on a dog, and actual good natured and sweet, is busy chasing mice around the hut and generally being a huge strong dog just getting under everyone’s feet and being yelled at constantly, “get out of it you bastard” “move your flea bitten ass Cain” “you bitch you”, Cain is constantly thrust outside and he simply scratches and pushes the ill fitting front door open with his massive head comes back in tail wagging bright eyed and ever alert and commences his mice chasing duties .... despite the noise I’m that tired and drift off to sleep while their deportation party rages on, the whiskey and laughter flows, the music blasts, the dog steals unattended food and chases mice and I hear another trekker enter the hut who is promptly loudly greeted and I could feel his unease and nervous tension....soon he climbs to a top bunk and like me through sheer exhaustion goes to sleep.

In the middle of the night I hear the Ute start up and quickly drive off and I say a prayer that these drunks avoid killing themselves or any others on these 4 wheel drive bush tracks. I turn on my head lamp and see two empty bottles of Grants on the bench and renew my prayer as nothing good will come of this....

Suddenly the door crashes open slams into my bunk end and attached to the door handle, which is the only thing holding him up, is a soaking wet drunk skin head deportee Mitch who is completely NAKED declaring “we rolled the Ute” with Tim’s 14 yr old son Caleb, holding the spotlight which lights the hut up like daylight and unfortunately Mitches drunk naked ass as well, behind him declaring the same thing. Tim in his still drunken state yells “shut up and go to sleep you silly cunt” so Mitch drops his naked ass onto the bunk next to mine no clothes no blanket and no sleeping bag and it’s 40 degrees F. Caleb climbs into a top bunk out goes the spotlight and I’m motionless in my sleeping bag trying to figure out if I’m in a twilight Zone episode and just thankful no one is dead and praying he just passes out.

Well soon Mitch is shivering and talking in his delirious state an obvious racist skinhead shouting out racial and religious slurs Tim tells him “ shut up you daft cunt and go to sleep” me and the other trekker are motionless in the pitch dark with a slight glow from the fire wondering just what the Fuck is happening!

For a small time nothing more occurs other than snoring then Mitch gets up and starts wandering around the hut by the glow of the fire embers and leans against the fireplace mantel and starts peeing into the fireplace. He returns toward his bunk needing to pass by mine and heads for mine and I strongly state not here mate your bunk is over there and he stumbles to his bunk naked shivering and legless drunk. It is at this point I retrieve my folding Gerber knife from my pants and decide might be best to sleep with it in my sleeping bag .... surreal!

Once again I’m awoken by the door slamming open and Mitch stumbles in with firewood piles it on the fire and this wakes up Tim who says, “what are you doing you stupid bastard” Mitch replies “I’m freezing” Tim says “ put some clothes on you daft prick and sort yourself out” and Mitch reaches to grab my shirt off my pack and I snatch it away and point to the corner and say your clothes are over there. He wanders over to their supply pile and comes back wearing fishing waders and I’m just pleased he’s finally clothed if oddly.

His drunk rambling continues most of the night interrupted by Tim chastising him and Tim and Mitch yelling at Xavier to kick Caine the dog who snores like a freight train and is in the bunk sleeping with X. “I hate this fucking country and can’t wait to get back to Australia” “Fucking cunts all I did was tune them up a bit and I get deported” “every bone of my body wants to go home” “I’ll find the Ute and put a match to it” on and on this drunk rambling went and this is the PG version minus all the racial ethnic and religious slurs !

I spent the rest of the wee hours before dawn on guard and just laughing at the dialogue of two extremely drunk individuals one of which is delirious naked and freezing racist skinhead being deported and has apparently rolled his Ute and a snoring massive big headed pure white pit bull called Caine. I mean the cast of characters was scripted I swear!

Dawn breaks and me and the other Trekker are up and out in a flash no breakfast while the rest snore fart and moan we look at each other with a knowing grin exchange no words and press on. Before I get away Tim comes out to apologize for Mitch and wish me well on my journey. I tell him Mitch drank a bottle and a half of Grants and his boy was with him with guns drunk as and rolled the Ute and once he sobers up Tim should tune him up as he could have killed his boy!

As I walk the next couple of miles I’m amazed and in a sense of bewilderment at what transpired I come across a sock a T-shirt a pair of pants all scattered over a couple of miles then I come across the Ute hanging onto the steep face by only the scrub gorse and think how close they actually came to death! Then I laugh at the thought of Caleb trying to get drunk legless Mitch back to the Hut as he left a trail of clothing breadcrumbs!

In the end Tim and the criminal Mitch were friendlier and more gracious and hospitable then the well outfitted and snobby fisherman … go figure. As they got drunker and Mitches obvious darkness and mental troubles rise to the surface my concern for my own safety elevated and I remember praying to God to please help me avoid conflict and having to hurt this drunken fool whose personal emotional pain spilled out with every drink he took!

I do believe this story and cast of characters will be with me forever and despite their many flaws I could think of a couple of fisherman who could learn hospitality from a couple of Kiwi and Aussie Bogans!

Impossible to make this shit up!