Five girls, just 16 years old, are sent into the great outdoors. The mountains in front of them will be their home for the next few days. They set off with everything on their backs; tents, food, mattresses. What do they know about mountains? What do they know about hiking? A shovel? What do you need that for?
The first few hours go very well. Everyone is energetic and excited. Let the adventure begin. But after a couple of nights on the thin mattresses in the chilly tents tolerance lowers and moods change. Why is she walking so slowly? Why is she whinging so much? Wait, where is the path? The little dirt trail they were following ended and seems to lead them into the big nothing. Yet they go on making a way through the high grass, desperation following them.
Then there it was, a little piece of familiarity in an unfamiliar environment. In the middle of nowhere lies a piece of toilet paper. It is an item that looks very out-of-place in the untouched nature. It was also this piece of toilet paper that gave the girls their little bit of hope. They’re on the right track. People were here before them. They obviously didn’t bring a shovel.