People get lost here all the time. Some of them don’t get found. It’s as if the forest has just swallowed them whole . . .

Peter King never wanted to go on the school wilderness camp. Twelve grumpy teenagers, heavy backpacks, tired legs, bad smells, biting flies and a lot of pointless walking — his idea of a good time. Not. He was even less happy when Mr Pearson put him in an activity group with one girl he didn’t know, another who had made sarcasm an art form and . . . Jye Sullivan. Sully had been tormenting him since primary school. And now, thanks to Sully, they had left the track and couldn’t find it again. The bush was closing in and so was the cold, dark night.

They were lost!

Scot writes: My mates and I spent a lot of time bushwalking as teenagers. We were forever getting ourselves ‘temporarily misplaced’. We spent nights on the bare ground, caught and ate lots of fish and the occasional snake and in turn got eaten by leeches and mosquitoes. The best thing about being lost was finding our way home again. Eventually.