Jeffrey’s Folly

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.

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About Nikki Brighton

I live in a Magic Cottage near the mist-belt forest with my African dog, Dizzy. We enjoy long walks in the fields to gather wild greens, sitting on the verandah with a pot of tea, and harvesting vegetables outside the kitchen door.
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