The nights were cold. It was the end of winter, there was snow further up the mountain, but not where I was. I dug down into leaves so I was half buried most of the time. I talked and sang to magpies, there were other animals around. I think I slept a lot of the time, they said I was feverish and in some kind of shock from the broken ankles. Later on I thought it had only been a few days.
It was long ago and far away. I’m fine now, thank you.
Drank water. Couldn’t eat, moving hurt too much and made me faint.
Couldn’t eat anything. Story below.
Mount Buffalo National Park, 1982. Four of us left the camping area to watch the sunset. I stopped to take a photo and lost the trail. Went running after the others, slipped and rolled down a cliff, landed upright, but felt both ankles pop and break. (The whole park is Australian bush around granite boulders and cliffs). The others thought I had gone back to camp and didn’t report me missing. Next morning the group packed up and hiked to the next camp site, no one noticed I was missing until that evening, so they looked in the wrong place. I crawled to a creek and fell down the gully, drank snow melt, no one heard me shouting and crying. Eventually they gave me up for dead. Three German tourists found me by accident three weeks later, one went to get help. I got a ride in a helicopter, in hospital for two weeks while they fed me through a drip. The school gave me a payout through their insurance on the condition we didn’t sue them. I’m almost 60 now and my ankles still hurt and grind and pop.
Three and a half weeks, 25 days. More than forty years ago I was lost in the wilderness on a school camp. Broke both ankles and couldn’t walk.
“We’re with you, Mister the Kid!”
You don’t need an alibi. You don’t need to provide evidence. You are presumed innocent. The cops need to prove you guilty beyond a reasonable doubt.
Unless you’re in the US, then you’re fucked.