Tales from Ichirouganaim
As I marveled at this place unknown to me, this row of steel driven into beach head like a palisade defence to ward of some over zealous buccaneer, I noticed that my hiking partner had developed a slight limp. The repel down and terrain had taken its toll on a prior injury. Still she pressed on through Conset Bay having to surrender finally at Martins Bay after a courageous fight.
Bajan women are tough!
It was with a sad heart that I had to leave my hiking partner as she waited in a safe place for her extraction home. She has no honour lost. This was her third tour and her testimony of the resilience of Bajan women is most noteworthy. It was that resilience that built this land, that made man, woman and child come out here, behind God's back, to lay wooden sleepers and steel tracks over this terrain, so generations after them would be inspired that nothing was impossible once you could endure.
It was with this thought that I pressed on into what was now truly unknown. Up to now, my aching feet and shoulders were screaming to quit but it was because of my hike partner that I pressed on. Now, the journey was up to me, testing my mettle and my resolve. I repeated my mantra "One more step", but I realised that I had found myself alone on the trail, in pain, fallen behind, clueless as to what lie ahead. I was lost, my focus was on one thing, the next orange marker.
I staggered along the trail, through unocupied grassy hills and large crab holes on my right; cliff face and rough sea on my left; and me pondering what I will do, as the rays of an evening sun now beam, unstoppable, under the broad rim of my hat.
To be continued...
There are no photographs of this segment. I was more concerned with getting to Bathsheba before sunset. I know what lives in those holes and when they start to come out and given the size of those holes, I may just have to conquer another fear.
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