Some observations

Some observations, in no particular order:

1.  English toilet paper is so thick you can use it for a tablecloth and diners can wipe their mouths with it afterwards. In SA, you can read the newspaper through it.
2.  Cyclists also clog the roads here, but it is much worse because the country lanes are so narrow. My cousin was approaching a bunch, with another behind, when an oncoming car simply overtook the cyclists and nearly had a head-on collision. He had to slam on brakes and the cyclists behind all crashed into him, having nowhere else to go. The conflict between motorists and cyclists is worldwide.
3.  There are patches and potholes everywhere.
4.   Pheasants are very beautiful to look at, but rate with guinea fowl on the intelligence scale. Often found standing aimlessly in the middle of the road, contributing to high roadkill incidents.
5.  Bunnies abound, flashing their little cotton tails across green meadows, but also frequently found flattened. Myxomatosis still exists.
6.  Doctors' waiting rooms will remain overused as long as it is free. Rumours of cutbacks on basic medicines.
7.  Honesty boxes are all over these little villages, selling honey and eggs, with a sign giving the price and people leaving the money in the box. Definitely wouldn't work in SA.
8.  More gossiping grannies per square mile than you could imagine. A source of great hilarity mostly, but sometimes a bit much!
9.  Believe it or not, quite a bit of litter, particularly in lay byes and river banks. Disappoint to see

All in all, life is generally the same around the world.

Walking through history

Yesterday I walked in the footsteps of Mary, Queen of Scots. Perhaps not the happiest of footsteps, but did she have any? Bolton Castle was her forced home for 6 months after she fled Scotland and Lord Bolton treated her as a royal guest with a retinue of 62 or so. A fair part of the castle remains in its original state and the rest of the ruin is being restored by the eldest son of the present Lord Bolton, currently seated in the ancestral home further up river. Some furnishings have been placed to give anodes of what it was like to live there, and although there were a number of en-suite chambers (called garderobes where velvets were hung so that the ammonia smell would deter fleas, etc), I definitely prefer today's home comforts.
We had timed our visit perfectly, as it was the first day of the season and archery, falconry and wild boar feeding were on the agenda. I was thrilled to have the opportunity (long on my bucket list) to shoot arrows from a longbow and hit the target both times.  It was really difficult to let go of the string (?) and it was only a 25lb bow. The medieval archers used a 100lb bow and began their training at the age of 6 - compulsory for all children between 6 and 16 at the time.
The views from the battlements were just beautiful but I doubt the archers were able to enjoy them much. It is said that Mary escaped briefly but was caught on top of the nearby ridge in the picture. Poor woman - not a life to be envied.
The day was sunny and warm when out of the wind, and a walk down to Aysgarth Falls was pleasant - scenes from Robin Hood, Prince of Thieves were filmed there, with the grassed picnic area being transformed into a dense forest for that purpose. The falls are very impressive when in full spate. We then meandered down Swaledale, a lovely place with charming villages, and then climbed up over the moors, where we stood a short walk in the now chilly air. The sky had clouded over and we almost forgot the warm sunshine of just a short while before. Every hill and dale has its own micro climate, so it's best to be prepared for all eventualities! The heather still has to emerge in spring growth, so everything was brown and dry, but we saw a number of grouse and partridges which was a treat for me.
The way home took us through Catterick Garrison, the largest military town in Europe, and much of the area is restricted to the public due to military exercises. We didn't see any tanks!
The buds have still not quite burst open, and today's cooler weather may keep them tucked up a while. It's Mothering Sunday here, the equivalent of our Mother's Day, and we are going to lunch with a family friend in a nearby village. More later.

Honesty box - take your eggs and leave the money!

Yorkshire life

It's not easy to write a daily blog of goings-on in unfamiliar surroundings.  While viewpoints and opinions on everything from the weather to political circumstances may be given when at home, it is not within my sphere of knowledge here in England, and so anything I say is merely an observation of my experiences and intended to be lighthearted and not taken too seriously!
Spring is slowly arriving in Notth Yorkshire. Fat green buds on the twig tips are sure to burst from their restriction today as we awake to the third day of sunshine. We are fooled by being inside a house with double glazing and central heating - outside the air is a bone chilling 4 degrees as evidenced by a couple walking their dogs - thick woolly hats, gloves and padded jackets. We are expecting daytime temperatures to drop below 10 for a while and won't even mention night time temperatures.
My aunt walks every day and has a pace almost double what I am accustomed to, so either she is going to slow down or I am going to speed up. Whatever way it goes, I feel confident there will be no holiday weight gain! Walking on the road, albeit through quaint villages and soft, green hills of rural Enhland, is far more strenuous than the Cecilia Ravine or Table Mountain contour path, I am finding, and it will be interesting to see how I cope with an intended hike in the Lake District. I do hope I don't disgrace myself.
In  country where everyone is so strictly regulated by the laws of civilisation, I am amazed that the speed limit on these narrow and winding country roads is 60mph -  the equivalent of 96km per hour. It makes our speed limits positively pedantic in comparison, and I can only think that it is only because you never see animals or children anywhere that cars can hurtle through a residential area with front doors on the road without apparent incidents.
Up here on the hill at Aysgarth lodge, the road passes the kitchen window and I am waiting for a car to take off the corner of the building. But of course everyone has licences and driving skills here, not to mention roadworthy vehicles,  so I doubt it will happen!
The picture shows the girls who are providing my morning eggs. They are doing a stirling job and I will miss them!

Flying away for a while

The airport shuttle dropped me at CT International at 10pm Tuesday where Injoined a queue of around 500 others checking in for the 2 late night flights to Europe. Two airlines had combined the check-in, and despite already having a boarding pass, only the First class, Business class, or elderly and infirm could jump the queue. I asked if a limp would help, but no luck. I have to acknowledge the efficiency with which our local staff ensured that all counters were open and we were all through within an hour.
The KLM Boeing was the least spacious plane I have ever been on, or else my tolerance for proximity to others has plunged, and there were moments when I had to fight off a little panic and get a grip on myself. Suffice to say that the stewardess said she was very relieved I could give her a smile when we disembarked. A lot of the anxiety stemmed from anticipation of the transfer at Schiphol,  where Imhave never been, and had been told it was a tight window at 45 minutes. I needn't have stressed, as it is the most user-friendly airport I have ever been to!
The hop over to Newcastle in an appropriately named Cityhopper was a brief parabola bursting into bright sunshine above the dull cloud cover and landing in similar gloom at Newcastle. It was almost a trip down memory lane, like landing at Cape Town in the 70s - small runway, small building, small carpark.
The drive to the hamlet of Newton-le-Willows was as expected in a country where traffic rules are obeyed and no mini-bus taxis exist. The daffodils are everywhere in golden splendour and cherry trees are in full blossom, with patches of startling bluebells under bare-branched chestnuts.
The charming village of Bedale has a famous pie shop and butchery and that was the first stop before arriving for a heartwarming reunion with family. I will have to try the haggis, they tell me. Hmmm.

Blowing away on the mountain tops

The southeaster nearly blew us off the mountain today! While not unusual at this time of year, by now we are all rather tired of the Cape Doctor after a long summer, even though it does blow away the cobwebs, and somehow the constant buffeting tires one out a little more. It did keep us cool on an otherwise warm day.
The hike from Glencairn up onto the plateau stretching southwards is a particularly lovely one, with low fynbos stretching as far as the eye can see, and undulating hills with enticing trails etched in weathered quartz sand. This would be a paradise for nature lovers if it weren't for the odd criminal element that spoils our civilisation, but if more people were up there, the opportunities would perhaps be too few and that problem could be eliminated. Today there was no sign of ill intent and we were able to revel in a 6 or so kilometre hike to the top of Rooikranz, overlooking the western side of the Fish Hoek/Noordhoek valley.
Long Beach lay pristine before us, marred only by the wrecked remains of the Kakapo, trapped forever on a dune between a lake and the sea. A heavy swell from the South Atlantic made itself visible in the breakers sending up huge sprays of foam over the rocky outcrops that dot the coastline. The wind direction ensured that the noise from the traffic and industry below us was completely muted, and we could pretend we were far from the madding crowd.
Many beautiful flowers dotted the ground, with the gladioli of particular prettiness - four different markings being observed over a very small area - and quite a variety of ericas, mostly new to me. The wind kept the birds close to the ground and none were seen at all, but there will be plenty of opportunity to see something new and exciting next time.

Barely visible

Dassies in the sun

Happy hikers!

Could I please turn everything off for a while?

I am about to set off on another adventure - familiar faces and not so familiar places. First a visit to visit dear relatives in North Yorkshire and then a whistle stop in The Hague for more family catch ups. It's been months in the making, and now that the time is almost upon us, I am wondering why the anxiety. The answer is simple. I have always been too responsible and concerned for the comfort and ease of existence of my family! What a mistake.
Every time I have been away through the years, I have ensured that at least a week's worth of cooked meals are safely in the freezer, along with a well-stocked larder and fridge. The electricity and bills are all up to date so nobody has to suffer the inconvenience of a blackout (can't guarantee that this time) and life can continue as the jolly little party it has always been, while I ensure the smooth running. This time, I am thrilled to announce that I have not prepared one frozen meal and everything in the freezer will have to be cooked by the chef of the day. I have stocked the larder with enough tinned food and non-perishables to see them through about a month, but they probably won't want to eat tinned mackerel or butter bean curry. That's their problem!
The cats and dogs have been catered for by way of giant bags of munchies, but here is another hiccup. We have just adopted a rescue doggie whose newish owner died unexpectedly, and so that is an unknown dimension that the household will just have to cope with. Yet again, I have arranged for a dog trainer who is an expert in her field to come and assess the dynamics to enable an easy integration for the other pets and have discussed the new dog's needs with the vet to ensure that everyone gets a good night's sleep. I think she will settle in well.
I still have to organise suet balls for the wild birds and seed for the pigeons.
A list will have to be drawn up to ensure that the correct amount of watering takes place for the potplants, and the garden must be kept alive while I'm gone.
Alternatively, I could just pack my suitcase and go. It's sounding so tempting, and would be even better if cellphones hadn't been invented! As always, I have that on hand to make sure I can keep my finger on the pulse from anywhere in the world as I also have to run a business. But I really don't want to.

The silence of a forest

There can be few greater pleasures than the silence of a forest. Not that there was an awful lot of absolute silence, as Newlands forest is one of the most popular areas for easy hiking and there is always the usual chatter, but the silence of footsteps on fallen leaves, the quiet decomposition of detritus on the forest floor and the shield of soft green foliage separating us from the busy freeway helped to mute the daily din. The only real silence we experience is when the current (really?) loadshedding schedules shut down every electrical device - now that is silence!
Over many decades, the trees on the slopes above Newlands have suffered the usual natural catastrophes of lightning strikes, gale force winds and disease, leaving massive trunks scattered among the tall, tall trees like pick-up sticks dropped at the start of the game. The fact that the surrounding trees seem unaffected by the felled giants indicates that they may have been saplings when the events happened, and the degree of decomposition is a sign of great age. One is reminded of that great philosophical wondering: If a tree falls in a forest and no one is there to observe it, does it make a sound? I would say yes, because the faculty of hearing is the only thing that allows a sound to be heard, and so observation is not necessary to prove that a sound has been made.
Back to the hike. Although the jeep track and well-made paths criss-cross the mountain in a steady zigzag, the walk is neither steep nor dangerous, hence its popularity. In places, the roots of the trees are exposed across the path, where thousands have trodden before and polished the bark to a fine patina, with interesting patterns and gnarled knots to gladden the observant eye, and trip up the unwary. Bouldered ravines reveal the paths of streams that gush from the mountain in winter and some all year round. Table Mountain acts as a giant sponge, soaking up every drop that falls from winter rains or is carried over it in the cloud that drapes itself across the lip in summer - our famous tablecloth. If it were not for this 'sponge' feature, the Peninsula would be a barren and windswept appendage to the continent, without the vast floral kingdom for which it is world-renowned. It is a marvel to walk through a small area and see flowers that exist in no other place, and even better to know when you have seen them.
Another advantage of forests is the tree-top canopy that provides us with opportunities to listen to the many birds living among the branches, even if we are unable to see them, and the shade is always welcome on a warm autumn day. One of my favourite places to be.

The helicopters whose pilots do such an outstanding job at fighting wildfires

A sheer drop to the stream far below

Autumn arrives at last!

Tonight is full moon, ushering in the first day of Autumn here in Cape Town, and not a moment too soon. To say we are tired of the heat and humidity is possibly an understatement, and cooler days will be much appreciated by people and plants alike. We managed to get through summer without the looming threat of last year's Day Zero (when the taps would be turned off), thanks to some fair rains last winter and a few unexpected occasions when cold air miraculously arrived from the South Atlantic to dump water on our parched land - Divine Intervention indeed. Capetonians have played a huge part in conserving, preserving and generally appreciating the limited water resources available to us, and it is hard to believe that we so carelessly used water before. Although we are now allowed 105 litres per day per person, and restrictions have been further eased to allow a little watering with a garden hose (read the rules carefully!), we are still using less than 70 litres each in our household with absolutely no sense of deprivation in any sphere.
The little well that has kept the garden green for the last 35 or so years dried up completely in December and all we could see was a rock and sandy bottom for nearly three months as the water table had dropped below 8 feet. In a good winter, the water table once reached 2 feet and parts of the garden became waterlogged! Last week, a cut-off low developed (once again, an unusual source of rain for us) and threw down 35 mm of water over our garden, and much more elsewhere, with some places in the Western Cape recording more than 250 mm in less than a day. Another miraculous intervention. And with that one day, in fact morning of rain, the water table rose immediately and we watched as it has risen daily to a level of around 7 feet. Who knows how far below the sand level it was before? It may have risen 3 feet for all we know. But just to see the water rise gives hope for the winter ahead and a recharging of our much-depleted life-giving, in fact essential for life, water resources. Even the trees have burst into new life, with fresh greenery shooting from twigs long thought to have died; proof that Nature takes a lot of beating.

A stroll along the promenade

A sea mist blanketed the coastline of the Atlantic seaboard today, and the Mouille Point lighthouse was in fine foghorn mode, warning ships to stay well away in the roadstead. A very easy (in fact, completely flat) walk was planned for today along the Sea Point promenade, from Three Anchor Bay to Bantry Bay and back, a distance of approximately 7 kilometres. If it weren't for the fog, we would have had a magnificent view of the ships, both big and small, the waves breaking over rocks on the reefs a little way out to sea and a school of dolphins frolicking nearby. However, all this had to take place in our imaginations, as the fog declined to burn away in the sunshine, as a layer of high cloud took away its potency.
It was a convivial walk and a good pace was set as the only obstacles were runners with prams and many cyclists who chose to ignore the signs painted on the bricks - no cyclists! The main point of interest along this stretch of coastline is the rock formation, detailed in the photograph below, which is of such significance geologically that Charles Darwin visited the site in the 1800s. Typically, the plaque which marked this event has long since been stolen and sold as scrap metal, as is anything that can be removed from anywhere.
Identifying the different types of rock was fun and fascinating (I love rocks!) and it is a great pity that a large area of this interesting phenomenon is covered by the concrete and tar of the dual carriageway that was built along the beachfront years ago. On the other side of the road are the blocks of highrise luxury flats that have long been the hallmark of Sea Point, and I must confess to always having a bit of a yearning to own one of them for a change from the peacefulness of the Kommetjie coastline. A little bit of bustle can be good for the senses.
As we reached Bantry Bay, the fog came to an end and warm sunshine bathed the slopes of Lions Head and the concrete and glass mansions of Clifton. It seemed that those paying the highest rates and taxes had a direct connection to a classier kind of weather! Our coffee break was on the last beach in Bantry Bay, sitting on the granite slabs that are present on the left hand side of geological divide. These tumbled boulders and secluded beaches are unfortunately home to the homeless, of which there must have been at least a dozen along the route, and on our way back we passed a group of women at the public toilets having a bit of an altercation, with one telling another that she didn't usually associate with her type and she had other friends!
We caught a glimpse of a lovely old Victorian double storey through a gap between two blocks of flats, perched on what must originally have been a small hill on the beach before development obliterated the view and the hill - what a sad day it must have been for those original residents. There are still a few old buildings - Winchester Mansions is an example - that developers must be itching to get their hands on, and one can only hope that day is very far away.

Molten rocks intermingled

Sunshine in Bantry Bay

Interesting quartz striations

We could look at the sun through the mist

A great big blob of quartz

Coffee on the rocks!

Splitting hairs

I've always been a little accident prone and slightly off balance (I often hit the door jamb when walking through doorways and seldom walk in a straight line), but today took the cake.  I took a friend to the Norval Foundation gallery for a birthday lunch and to see the exhibitions which she hadn't seen on a previous visit. After first arranging a table for later at the Skotnes restaurant, we proceeded to the reception area of the main building, via the automatic revolving door.
It is no exaggeration to say that this door resembles an ice-cream maker, with the three paddles revolving at a fair pace to churn the creamy ingredients. Well, it churned me out at a pace that caused me to exit the inside before quite reaching the open space on the other side and I hit my face against the glass with a force that bent my glasses, jarred my brain and nearly gave me whiplash. I stumbled towards a pillar and leaned against it, pressing my palm to my eye where the pain was. The lady behind the counter in the shop rushed over (as did my friend) to see if I was alright and I took my hand away to see that it was covered in blood. I had split my eyebrow along the socket. I looked and felt as though I had done a bout in the ring with Manny Pacquiao.
My first concern was whether I would have a black eye! Not being able to see myself, and with two concerned faces peering into mine going ooh and aah, I had no idea of the severity. The words 'stitches' and 'claims' were bandied about as I was led to a seat and another person arrived with first aid to clean up and staunch the bleeding (which was not severe). I assured them I was fine and didn't have a headache or double vision (although it was blurred due to not having my glasses on). Security management arrived to take my details, record a photograph of the damage and advise that I should let them know of any medical expenses I might incur.
By now it was clear that I was going to survive perfectly well and continue with lunch and the exhibitions, but was very appreciative of the attention and handling of the event. It was also clear that no black eye was developing and the wound was almost unnoticeable, so I was very happy to carry on as normal. I must tell you that the first thing they asked was whether I wanted an ambulance! I have a very high pain threshold and this sometimes prevents me from seeing injuries in the same way as the medical person attending to me, but it certainly helps a quick recovery. Interestingly, the wound is exactly the same as one I have had since early childhood, in the same place but a millimetre lower. I obviously am in the habit of letting my head precede my feet when taking a gap.
The exhibition of photographs by David Goldblatt of the mines and mineworkers in the 60s was just as evocative the second time, and the lunch was excellent!

Meandering in the mountains

Yesterday was one of those last-blast hot days of late summer that make you look forward to autumn. Our hike took us up into the mountains at Silvermine, where we walked in the mist on Tuesday and got a whole new perspective on our surroundings. By chance I noticed a tiny Erica at the side of the trail and stopped to take a photo of its unusual colouring, a pale almost white green, and shape I haven't seen before. Unfortunately I only had my cellphone and the photo is less than perfect, but research showed that it is Erica urna-viridis, endemic to that specific area on the Steenberg Plateau towards the Kalk Bay mountains, and considered rare. What a privilege to have observed it.

But back to yesterday...

The lightest of breezes wafted by as our large group ambled along the jeep track and the mood was companionable as the width of the track enabled everyone to catch up with those who have been away on holidays or recovering from ill health. Sometimes our hikes do not allow for much conversation due to the terrain, and that is also not a bad thing, as one of the joys of hiking is the immense silence of the mountains. We were soon overtaken by a much faster group who were heading for higher places, but we continued on our meander round the contours with no particular destination in mind, except our halfway coffee and snack stop! 

The track eventually narrowed and conversation waned as we admired the views down the Silvermine valley towards Kommetjie and Long Beach in front and the tops of the Table Mountain chain to the north. On the other side of the valley, the hum of traffic on the always busy Ou Kaapse Weg was a distraction from the peace as we were downwind, and you have to travel very far to lose the trappings of civilisation entirely. Despite the good rain recently, all the streams were dry. We could see runnels where the water had flowed rapidly downhill, but it will take a lot more rain before the dry earth has soaked up its fill and allow the streams to run again.

As the sun rose higher, the small areas of shade that we eagerly sought were chased away, and it was a relief to turn back into a breeze as we retraced our steps to complete our almost 7km walk. Another lovely morning in nature!

Fun with a Fitbit

After Tuesday's walk, I decided to kill two birds with one stone and go through to Cape Town to collect my returned passport and Schengen visa application. Living in the Deep South means that most trips 'over the mountain' via Ou Kaapse Weg should be combined with as many errands as possible, as the traffic congestion is horrendous. I left the Silvermine reserve car park and followed the rest of our group down to the Steenberg Village for a quick lunch, then set off for town in an effort to beat the traffic home. It was only 2pm and as I drove through Newlands, the traffic out of town was already backing up to the University of Cape Town and I envisaged my route home via Camps Bay, Hout Bay and Chapman's Peak - always a great pleasure due to the scenic beauty, but annoying to have to pay a toll.
When I reached the building I was going to, I didn't park outside the door in the bus stop like last time, as I could arrive unannounced and without an appointment. So I rode around the block a little, looking for cheap parking, but none was to be found and I u-turned back down Strand Street to the Picbel Parkade. I haven't been into the Parkade for probably 25 to 30 years, but remember it as one of the very first multi-storey parking garages in the city and quite a marvel of convenience at the time. I wound my way up, up and up to the 6th floor where I was able to park quite easily in the ample space provided - unlike many newer parking areas where you can barely open your door once you have squeezed into the narrow space; it's about making an extra buck on an extra car.
The lift area was bright, white and immaculate, with a box in place of an up/down arrow to summon the lifts. The instruction was to punch in the number of the floor you were parked on, and the appropriate designated lift would arrive - no floor selection in the lift except for the shopping floors on the lower levels. Very interesting and convenient, and although it took me a while to figure it out, on my return I pressed that button like a seasoned commuter.
The shops in the arcade brought back memories of the 70s when I worked nearby and did all my shopping during lunch hours. Nothing had changed too much except for new names and modernisation, and the area was spotless and well-served by security. Living in a little backwater by the sea tends to make one forget the bustle of the city, and it's good to make these trips into the streets of Cape Town from time to time to reconnect with the vitality found there.
In no time, I was in the queue to collect my passport, only fractionally anxious in case the visa had been rejected. I needn't have worried - I was granted a 2.5 year visa just by ticking the request! What a feeling of freedom it is to clutch in your clammy hand a passport with visas to see the world!
Anyway, the purpose of this whole lengthy tome is to say that, when I finished the hike, I didn't turn off my Fitbit and so my entire day, from the time I began the hike at Silvermine, to lunch and town, looking for parking and circling up and down the Picbel Parkade, the drive home to Kommetjie until I eventually parked in my garage, is recorded on my Fitbit App. I was treated to a congratulatory  display on my phone screen to celebrate a hike of 63.3km achieved in 7 hours 33mins. Lunch took 64 minutes. My passport was retrieved in 36 minutes (including going up and down in the lifts and leaving town), and I took 15 minutes to get from the Sun Valley robot to the Kommetjie Road.
Just to show you can have fun with a Fitbit. It doesn't have to be a serious exercise tool!

Misty mountain morning

After yesterday's soaking rain, the clouds lingered across the Cape in a soft, enswathing cloak that drifted in the valleys and peaks of the Silvermine reserve. As we left the car park and headed across the Steenberg plateau, we were treated to amazing displays of nature's art in the form of dew-draped spiderwebs stretched across the gaps between protea bushes, tightly woven webs making little circus tents over stony patches and magnificently intricate, bag-like webs of immense size. The funnel spider webs were fascinating. One can only be awed at the built-in knowledge the spiders have that enables them to cast these webs that humans can only pretend to imitate with needlecrafts. If it weren't for the moisture clinging to each strand, we would never have noticed them, and I'm sure the spiders weren't happy with the visibility of their traps! There were many webs only 10cm across which must be those of little spiders practising to be like daddy.
Despite visibility being limited and preventing us from enjoying the views which had been the purpose of the hike to Bertie's Balcony, we were able to pay more attention to the fynbos at our feet. The path is an easy track of sandy quartz with well-placed steps and the occasional scramble. The area is endemic to a number of species (not all are visible at this time) and we were rewarded with sightings of delicate pink gladiolus monticola, aristea juncifolia, protea speciosa, red heath and berry heath. Although these are prominent and easy to see, there are many tiny and inconspicuous, but nevertheless extremely special plants that are beyond my ability to identify. (The aforegoing are not necessarily endemic.)
We were not the only ones on the mountain in the mist, and we were joined by another hiking group as we rested at Bertie's Balcony and enjoyed our coffee and snacks. There is always plenty of activity in the mountains and it is good to see that so many will not be deterred by isolated criminal incidents as we enjoy our right to wander in this beautiful area. We heard stories of accidents on the mountain and how easy it is for them to happen - tripping over a stick, snagging bootlaces and falling headlong over the edge - these things are unplanned and sudden and can happen to anyone. But to stay quietly at home to avoid such accidents leads to a life less lived, and that cannot be good for anyone.
It grew chilly as we started our descent to the cars and a few drops of rain fell, but what a wonderful morning out on the mountain!