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Across Gouland DownsThe next suspension bridge crosses Big River - not exactly the Rio Grande, but deep enough for me to get wet boots when I ford it. This time I give the bridge a decent attempt first but it is wobbling so violently before I am 2 metres up the approach ramp that I decide against it. Carol is distinctly quieter after this one.
We head on across the Downs. Another passenger jet makes its presence known.
The Downs stretch out around us. That 1½ hours on the DOC sign is starting to seem rather optimistic.
We press on. Many of the rocks are covered in a dry red lichen,
... and generally the vegetation is having a tough time. Even the tussock are a decent distance apart.
There are still small treasures to be had here and there.
Moments like these take me out of Lord of the Rings and drop me into The Wizard of Oz. I half expect it to begin a conversation. I must be starting to get tired.
This is the last flat land we see all day, and let me tell you it's not downhill from here.
We are not short of water. Small creeks like this one abound. Crystal clear, the colour of draught beer.
Carol is starting to drop back a little. Thank God this bridge is a little more solid.
And we've almost used up the hour and half DOC promised us the next bit would take.... We start to climb, and turn for a last look. This is one day we want to revisit. Carol's leg, though, is starting to hurt, and Miranda's knee is not wonderful, though it has improved since I found her a stick - a piece of dead wood lying beside the path, that I whipped a handle onto over lunch.
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