Don’t go jumping waterfalls

I mimed a waterfall and made a gushing sound. “Водоспад”, said Maxim, the brother of the owner of the house we are renting. “Tri km trek”, he said, bringing his total number of English words he had used with us since we had known him to two (if you count km as a word)

“He means walk”, said Lorna. No, he meant trek.

We walked out of our rented house into the mountain forest. We fairly soon came upon the stream. Nancy whinged because one of her shoes got wet. I vowed that mine wouldn’t.

The waterfall was 3 km upstream. We crisscrossed it a hundred times in getting to near the top of the mountain. Across tree trunks, jumping on stones and wading in the water. I stepped on a stone full of slime and sat in the stream; it wasn’t that cold. Lorna wedged herself bottom first in between two rocks; unfortunately, she was too far behind for the rest of us to help…or take a photo.

Nancy and Tilly loved it. Lorna lamented her not accepting Maxim at his word. I calculated how long it would take (…until we got half way). Maxim was a mountain man. He knew which berries were edible and where to find salamanders. We didn’t see a single person. We had a great time.




One response to this post.

  1. Posted by Sarah on August 4, 2011 at 9:45 pm

    What a gent


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