Liz Gow recalls Day 21, when she joined the River Walkers and their guide, Jeffrey, lead them up sheer granite cliffs:
The walkers, and where are they now?
Look up, look up. What? But how?
Halfway up a granite slope
Heavens, have I been smoking dope?
No rope nor caribiner in sight
Team split in two, are they alright?
Guide to the left of us, walkers to the right
As darkness falls, it’s an unimagined sight
We eye each other across the waters
They need our help and we’re not porters
In paddlers’ turf a canoe appears
And this time, yay, it’s not for weirs
One by one our concerns are eased
Deft strokes, a calm mind, all worries appeased
We’re all together now on the same bank:
The right bank, with not one who sank
Aagh, who ever doubted these fine walkers
I’m pleased to tell ya, not one, not one is a baulker.