I am not addicted to risk or a Jackass and not in the least tired of my life. But it just so happens that my favourite activities in their extreme border on peril. Yestermorning saw a storm immense that whirled the tea out of my mug, blew my eyebrows in a knot and drove the tears out of my eyes.
From the meadow I could see the water shooting up at Akeen, rising to an arch in slow motion and dropping its lost energy into a gale-scattered nebula.
I parked the bus at the ‘Admiral's Rest’ and the wind blew me across the meadows to the rim that runs down to the rocks. Now I have walked, run and danced the rocks for three years, but I am no match for Nature in this bewildering violence. Like an old man I put cautious feet with lots of hand support between the chunks towards the upper platform. As the view on the waves exploding on Akeen was partly blocked, I sought to come closer. A level lower seemed more advantageous for a good angle, so I gave it about five minutes to be sure to be secure there from the raging waves.
Once at ease I descended and tried to keep tripod-stable in the whipping winds. Suddenly out of the boil I saw a wall of white water rushing towards me. No use fleeing. I tried to get some shelter by jumping between two big chunks of rock when the water seized me and swept me over them. By grasping a ledge I could keep from being pulled in by the backwash. Largely soaked I sped up to the higher plateau and none too soon as the next wave licked my feet. I ran farther up the platform and positioned myself in the lee of a large rock. Even to there the water flowed, but it had lost its momentum. From there I made scores of pics, ducking every now and then for the spray that was blown over me. The wind cut my breath short, nearly blew me out of my wellies and hammered rain like tacks into my face. Because of the excitement I hardly felt the cold and from ever higher locations up to the Olympus, I captured the pandemonium with my underwater camerade. When the sun hid behind the clouds, the wind stirred up even harder and continuous jets of drizzle blinded me from the furious waves. Abruptly I felt cold. Against the wind I stumbled in sloshing boots and with a tingle in my fingles back to the bus.
Meanwhile the sun had come out again and I put the tele-tooter on my big camera. From the rear of the bus and leaning the camera on top of the open back door I added another 210 photos to the 159 that I conquered on the elements by the skin of my teeth.
In my wet clammots I jumped into the bus and drove to Bridie’s. There, in front of the furnace, I put on dry clot-hes. Bridie illustrated the spanking that I ought to have had by fiercely slapping her knees, but instead she poured me a nice hot cup of tea.