Ok, I’ve got like no idea where to start. I suppose I need someone to write too, so .. lets call you .. Mr .. not Mr Journal, I’m a 43 year old man. Not a 13yr old girl writing her secrets, .. that’s been very well done, lets call you Mr Blog.

I suppose this is a Blog so that suits. Suddenly I feel like a millennial posting life hacks, and I really hated that crap. I’m not sure why this particular survivalist forum is active, or what is powering the servers that host it. It’s probably in some hardened structure with a carefully thought out last-forever-and-longer kinda power source. I guess it is what it is, it works. And that’s good enough for now. Just to be sure I’m saving this document on both my phone and whatever device I happen to stumble upon that I can make work.

I'm not sure if anyone is very interested in what I have to say or who I am. Sucks for you Mr Blog, you’re the subject of my writing. I’m feeling pretty insignificant at the moment, and alone. I'm just one man on an Island in the South Pacific. I live in Wellington, New Zealand. Given all that is going on in the world this was a pretty sweet place to live and I'm one lucky son of a b****.

Well it would be fair to say that I used to be. I went hunting one day and that changed.

I'm not sure how long the power will last or how long the internet will work for but I'm going to keep typing and updating this blog, for as long as I can at least it might help organise my thinking which given all that's going on isn't very clear, eventually I know I'm going to die and it probably won't be very far away. Mr Blog, you have the pleasure of my rantings, ravings, and antics until that **** ends.

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I guess I should just get it out of the way and explain what's happened but that's the hardest part I really don't understand what's happened. I went on a hunting trip I came out of the Forest with a deer carcass over my shoulders blood all over my hands, dying for a shower, hungry, at around mid-morning on a rainy Monday morning.

Where I Hunt is mountainous forest, think pine trees 100ft tall, low scrub say 15-20ft tall,and terrain that exhausts you with hills and endless up hills slogs. That come out to ridgeline tracks that can either drop back down into scrub, then bush, then forest, or scrub, then suburbia.The particular trail that I leave the forest from exits literally next door to my friend's house, because .. well. He told me there was Deer there, and there are, so that’s where I hunt.

I realized that doesn’t make a lot of sense so I’m going to drop a photo of the Land Information, New Zealand Topographical map here, but it’s reference is NZTopo50-bp32, grid 28, 27, 26 LAT, and 64, 65, 66 E-Long. Specifically I was in around Skerret’s Creek, but mostly above it, near the Wharanui Track. I marked my track roughly, and my bush camp, but it's all a guess.Basically I exit and its suddenly suburbia. Because I enter and exit via Sunny Grove. My Nissan Safari was on the road with its doors opened, all of them, definitely not how I left it.