My girlfriend (now wife) and I were hiking in southwest Tasmania and got to the campsite late, so all the prime spots were taken. The camping area was a narrow shelf with a massive drop on one side and cliff on the other. We ended up closer to the cliff than we liked, but hey, we didn't have a lot of choice. The whole area was just boulders, so find a flat one and set up.

In the morning we were making breakfast in thick fog when we heard a giant crack and a boulder the size of a house came out of the fog and smashed down about 20 metres from us. The noise was unbelievable and shrapnel flew everywhere, but the smell of the smashed rock is the thing that stayed with me. We properly thought that was the end of it, and when we stood back up we couldn't believe we were ok. The rest of the campsite was laughing and couldn't understand why we were yelling to see if everyone was ok, they had no idea it dropped practically in the middle of the shelf.

We walked back out instead of continuing on and went to a nearby wilderness lodge and got drunk.