Lost Shorty today

Day two of the Battan Death March. Climbing, climbing, always climbing - ever upwards. Falling, falling, always falling - ever downwards.
The head honcho presumably placed us in an "easy" group today with 5 young, able-bodied professional trekkers who have been in Africa for one month.
After the 45 min back-breaking car ride over boulders the size of basketballs, we began in a village of small mud huts adjacent to potato fields and goats. Near panic set in when we realised they deceived us by bringing us via a different route to the same place from where we started yesterday. Could it be that they expected us to survive the unsurvivable again? Was Michael's enemy waiting for a second chance with him?
Michael began to weep.
Blinded by his tears, he managed to stumble for 45 minutes through terraced potato fields to the trail head - mercifully, we hoped, to a different trail head.
After crossing the apparently requisite narrow, slippery, log bridge, we began the climb. Imagine if you will a narrow, 12 inch wide staircase ascending over 500 meters through thicket and thinnet. Now imagine it without a single step - essentially a long, steep ramp interspersed with logs, roots and boulders sometimes thigh-high. And coated with a thin layer of sawdust. Now you've got the picture. Oh and did we mention this was at 10,000 feet where oxygen is more scarce than gorillas?
At the end of the ascent we could look DOWN into a small valley where the gorillas decided to spend the day. Everywhere were stinging nettles. By now Michael was sobbing like a girl. We spent the next 15 minutes sliding (Michael literally on his ass) down the other side of the hill.
The next hour was spent watching a bigger Silver back and his family with three babies - the youngest three months old. Michael maintained a defensive Karate stance to keep the gorilla at bay. It was all I could do to keep Michael from thumping his chest.
At least the return trip did not include going back up to the top. We managed to rejoin the original path (staircase sans stairs) by traversing the valley sideways. Then all we had to do was work our way all the way back DOWN (looking forward to losing our big toenails), across the log bridge, back through the potato fields saying so long to the goats and into the waiting arms of our driver who dragged us again across the bumpy road laughing about the free massage we were getting.
Sounds like fun, doesn't it? Well actually it was. Glad we did it. And recommend it highly. Pictures to follow. Off to Johannesburg tomorrow.
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