Coronavirus Lockdown Day Six – I stumble upon a dreadful sight and find potable water


Mixed joy indeed! I have not only found a supply of potable water, but have by some strangeness of fate stumbled upon a dreadful sight. I had, since early dawn, been heading inland via a narrow and quite steep wild animal trail when, just as the sun reached its zenith, I detected a familiar sound.
I was at once paralysed with the fear that this was just some ghastly resurgence of those lurid and unwelcome hallucinations of yesterday. But as I approached the source of the noise my fears seemed without solid foundation.

Before me lay a thin but quite stunning waterfall. A splendid stream of foaming water lay before me  and I immediately threw off my goat-stained apparel (remember the goat from day four of this pandemic?) and rendering some exited version of The Lord is My Shepherd plunged into the foaming pool which lay beneath the thundering waterfall.
My spirits were entirely lifted. I drank my fill from the tumbling waters and bathed completely naked in the clear mountain stream. Indeed, to coin a phrase, all felt fine with the world.

It was by this time some two hours past midday and I determined to follow the course of the stream which emanated from the waterfall as far as the shore – for that is surely, given the effect of gravity, where the river must enter the sea.

Imagine both my surprise and my sense of joy when, on following the stream to its small coastal estuary, I discovered that I was only some quarter-mile from my encampment. Indeed, if I had chosen to walk due north along the sands, I could perhaps have avoided completely that arduous uphill jungle trek of  this morning.  I shall of course draw up a detailed map of the adventure and, should the good lord permit, make further journeys to the interior when time and energy permit.

As I stumbled exhausted back to my camp from the river estuary I chanced upon what can only be termed a completely awful sight. A man, another black man, lay dead upon the sand. I am confident that he was not there earlier in the day and at first, I wished he’d go away, such was his state of dismemberment. Both legs missing and with a crazed look upon his face, he had obviously met a dreadful end. Some black charred bones and still smoking embers told of his fate. He had been killed and eaten by cannonballs!

As the dreadful realisation of his fate dawned on me a long canoe manned by a crew of screaming savages rounded the headland heading straight towards my hiding place! Hopefully, tomorrow is another day.

Duncan Harley is a writer and blogger living in the Garioch. His books are available from Amazon. Just search for Duncan Harley in the Amazon search box. Signed copies are available @ Inverurie Whisky Shop.

Location: Inverurie AB51, UK

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