Another rainy day

Dawn broke early (as dawn does in the late Spring) through the little window of our Zulu hut and I immediately got up, avoiding the wooden beam 8 inches above my forehead, to check the weather. It was bad. So bad that I was feeling negative about the day's planned walking in the hills. Given that I couldn't even see the hills for low cloud and I could easily get wet at home it's a good job Piet came in to make breakfast and distracted me. This was not before I noticed that both Ana and Helen were missing from their beds and I feared I had overslept or worse, there had been an alien abduction but they hadn't wanted me.
After we had scoffed and given him our empties to wash up we scrambled aboard the minibus bound for the ranger station. While Piet went in to check if we would be allowed to walk in the conditions we chatted and fell into 3 distinct groups. Firstly the keenies, led by Kel who wanted to walk no matter what, the dissenters led by Derek who definitely didn't and the non committals who said nothing but looked out of the steamed up windows at the falling rain forlornly. (He who has no grass must look forlorn- Mao). I confess to standing near, if not in, Derek's camp but regretted missing the opportunity to appear super tough, by acting keen but then being prevented from walking when Piet returned saying it was a no go.

This gave Piet a small problem familiar to most parents- a car full who need to be entertained on a rainy day. Our first distraction was the local museum which wasn't all bad. I may not have driven there especially for it but compared to sitting in pub it was cheaper and more educational.
Second was a cheese farm- you can't go wrong with cheese and I splashed out on a block of their own creamy cheddar- little did I know that this would, a week later prevent me from getting robbed. Stuffed with cheese we went to an art gallery/shop. It was nice but so small we had to choreograph our movements about the place, so nicely fitted out I felt guilty for dripping in there and finally, since paintings don't go well into backpacks I was never going to buy anything.

We tootled back to the huts for lunch and then for the highlight of the weekend went quad biking. The heavens were still dumping on us the first of the 'Summer rains' that should have arrived in September- of all the weekends to arrive late! Now, just to save my fingers I want you to imagine all the superlatives and hyperbole you would apply to an exciting sport- quad biking was it. I had a bloody great time. I got as wet as if I had ridden through a swollen river- which I had, several times. Such was the size of my smile and the flying grit that I was still crunching it in my mouth two days later. And for the record- I was awesome. After the hour we booked, Grant the owner asked us if we wanted to go back in, the guys shouted 'no' first and off we went again, roaming the hills and catching glimpses of Ibex antelope. My pants were so dirty if they hadn't been the only ones with me I would have thrown them away. It took a jet wash at the farm and 20 mins in the shower to get them halfway wearable, you can see the difference in the two pictures. Eventually we headed for home (well the huts) full of ourselves.

I said "coooo, imagine riding around on those all day, what a great job that would be".
The reply " your'e getting paid to go skiing in a top resort for 5 months, you cheeky twat!"
ohhhhhh yeah!

We stopped off at the shops to take all their free newspapers for stuffing our sodden footwear and stocked up on wine, it being too late to catch the Chelsea match at the pub- shame (not). By the time Piet had cooked our dinner the skies were clearing so we got a good white man's fire going. (A fire so big you have to stand away from it rather than an Indian (sorry, Native American) fire which is small so you can stand close but nowhere near as much fun. Eventually we got fed up with the smoke following us round and went to bed.