Brian Rogers Rogers Rabbits www.sunlive.co.nz

There comes a time in every namby pamby journalist's life when he has to harden up.

Cast off of the niceties of the cosy office. Break free from the warmth of the heater under the desk and kick off the fluffy slippers with the animal ears and the big googly eyes that roll around like Dotcom watching a lap dancer.

Wake up the dog asleep on the couch. Take stock of the ammo, fill a hipflask (iced tea, of course) break out weapons and head to the hills to interact with nature. And kill some of it.

One such cold and dark morning, this became reality for a carload of lads, well overdue for a dose of Outdoor Reality Check.

Heading south to the rellies' farm, threatened by incursion of unwanted animal species, the team's survival skills were put to the test early, when forced to forage for sustenance along the roadside. Fortunately, the sharp eyed, Dreaded One in the backseat spotted the Fat Pigeon. Not the protected one sitting in a miro tree, the cafe one that takes Eftpos.

That saved a lot of campfire building and billy boiling, since the nice girl there already had a cuppa organised. Darn, we are good at this living off the land!

Onwards, off the highway and onto the gravel. Into the hinterland and into four wheel drive.

Soon we are belting up a farm track.

'Just take a shortcut here,” they said.

'The X Trail will make it up there,” they said.

'What about these slick townie tyres?” I said.

'No worries, just give it more right foot,” they said.

At this point, it would probably be a good idea if Keiran, my insurance broker and associated companies, turned to another page. (I'd recommend John's piece about cholesterol on page 28). Because from here on, there are certain outcomes that won't do insurance people's heart rates any good to be reading.

Rocketing along

Of course the X Trail rocketed up the paddock. Of course the boys offered encouraging advice to the driver. Of course the vehicle made it nearly to the top of the rise and onto the secure gravel farm track. Of course, a dog's whisker from the top, it slid sideways for about three car lengths and perched, teetering, on the edge of a precipice*.

Fortunately, several thousand perceptive sheep had foreseen this exact event, and taken the precaution, on our behalf, of treading a handy ledge into the hillside, just the right size to catch and hold a slip-sliding townie rear tyre.

Perched precariously on the edge of oblivion, my loyal mates and dogs did what any supportive fellow outdoorsmen would do: Threw open the uphill door and ran for their lives.

Then, just to show their understanding of the driver's predicament, took a lot of photos for Facebook and to email back to a wife.

One enterprising member of the team, The Undreaded One, decided it would be a good idea to go to the rear of the vehicle for the tow strap. This, despite the fact that at any moment a two tonne block of soon-to-be scrap metal could lurch from its perch and flatten him into a King Country cow pat.

As the back hatch opened, half the contents of the vehicle, including the electric chilly bin immediately sensed danger, and evacuated. With the help of gravity, it bolted, disappearing into oblivion, rolling 17 times with a series of sickening thuds. Pretty much how the X Trail would roll, if that sheep trail ledge decided to give way.
At this point, there followed a familiar conversation, which covered a myriad of technical driving hints, an investigation into tyre types, pressure and knob sizes and other helpful motoring advice. Consensus was that the cause of the predicament lay with the knob behind the wheel.

The irony did not escape me, as I contemplated a rearward tumble to certain SUV Purgatory, that this is Road Safety Week.

Bring on the cavalry

Soon however, the cavalry arrived, in the farm Hilux with a pup on the back. Before you could say 'I wish I'd worn my brown corduroys” the teetering vehicle was secured with tow rope, edged up the final couple of feet onto firmer terra firma and the day was saved.

The young fella hiked down for the chilly bin which, apart from some new indentations,
was salvageable.

And so the intrepid hunting party continued, although a tad more camo paint was required to cover some of the paler shades of skin on some faces, while others were showing distinct reddish tones.

Off on foot and into the hill country, the expedition snatched back some dignity from the brink of disaster. We were soon enveloped in the haze of morning mists and a whiff of cordite.

Amazing country, fascinating wildlife and some excellent game on the menu. Most of all, good times with good mates. Thanks to Mark, the Hilux and the pup.

*Precipice: Thing that your insurance people do not want to hear that your vehicle is at the bottom of.