Figure 13: The path. Notice head of person standing at the top—yes it is steep
Lest you should run away with the idea that this was a living nightmare (in which case I have done an adequate job of explaining my own predicament), Martha set off down at such a pace that I began to question whether both her parents were human. Alfie scampered along behind her as best he could, and even Claudia built up a convincing lead over me. By the time I reached the bottom, Martha and Alfie were half way through lunch. Incredible. How could anybody think about eating at a time like this? I was force-fed a couple of pieces of bread and cheese, then Claudia and I set off again.
Climbing back out was worse. More chains to hang on to (although I actually felt safest when clinging to one of these) and even a ladder, which of course wasn't quite long enough to reach the top of the vertical wall it was scaling.
Figure 14: Hey! I'm still in the lead!
The worst moment of all came soon after the ladder. A piece of rock shaped like a yarmulke and perched at a similar angle, was the way across. Its sloping top rolled off rapidly to a vertical drop of, well I couldn't bring myself to look, but too far anyway. The chain had torn away from its central moorings, and dangled, a mocking and useless necklace, around the vertical section. A trickle of water across the surface made sure that it would be madness to simply stand up and walk across—it would be too slippery. I started to inch across.
At first it was relatively flat, relatively dry, and relatively rough. An occasional ripple on the surface gave you something to wedge your boot against. Then all these things went away. Finally, I was on all-eights (hands, elbows, knees and ankles). All that prevented me from sliding off the side of the mountain was a pinch of friction and a bucket of will-power. But I was stuck. If I lifted one point of contact I would slide away. I could no more go back than I could go forward. Thank goodness, Claudia was ahead, so I did not have to worry about encouraging her across. I thought about that. I thought too about the poor sod who was hanging onto the chain when it let that center mooring go. And I knew two things: I was not going to go back, and I could not stay where I was forever. This only left one option. If my backside had been close enough, I would have kissed it goodbye. But it wasn't, so I lifted one hand. Nothing happened. I leaned forward and put it down again. Still nothing. Once I had done the same with a leg, I was close enough to the other side to grasp it. I grasped it. I was over.
