If I was Lucky the cat I think I have about 4 lives left based on todays trek – I can no longer be called a walk. What an adventure walking to, into and out of a Canyon can be.

The day started off perfectly with clear blue skies and a predicted 24 degrees and finished off in one of the best set up adventure parks in a magical location with a beer hut – the middle bits were slightly less idyllic.

Looking back from a flat road early in the piece showed just what perfect spot we stayed in overnight and all around were massive mountains and a deep valley with a hardly a discernible river from above. 

Like yesterday both sides of  roads were scarred with remnants of land slips with boulders half the size of a house in crazy positions figuring out their next position when they inevitable move again.

Road walking turned into some pleasant forest paths with the map promising a drop down onto a road. Drop was the operative word . It must have been somewhere between 10-15 metres down and with no real foot or handholds. After 15 minutes of looking for and dismissing alternatives there was only one option- throw the sticks down, along with the backpack and hope it acts as an airbag if the clay you are hanging onto gives way.

Landed inelegantly, but in one piece after dusting myself off noticed a sign from the previous nights camp – ‘ accommodation and taxi available- which suggested no need to take the earlier diversion and face this slip and slide.

Followed the road which started to give a great view of the ever widening boulder filled river. Not let my after we came across an abandoned car and that signalled the end of the road. 

We paused and read trip notes – ‘very tricky and dangerous crossings which should not be attempted in wet or windy conditions’. When we peeked at it we thought they should have added ‘at all’.

With a sheer cliff face and a 150 metre drop below there was a couple of poles arranged to get across a 5 metre gap. Jane led the way and made it safely. Height challenged me followed and somehow made it across after summoning the guts.

My relief and excitement was dampened within 20 seconds when Jane said ‘ and that’s not the hard part’. Think I might have uttered at least one expletive when looking at the next 20 or 30 metres of trail which was 8-12 inches wide on loose dirt, with same drop.

Made it across with more luck than technical execution and might have shed a tear looking back- and so I should have because somewhere in the two crossings my phone became dislodged. 

It’s a horrible feeling when you realise what is in your phone and the cover , with thought it’s now 150 metres down the cliff. You also kick yourself for not thinking to put it in your pack.

God bless Jane  she shimmied her way back to find it teetering on a ledge near the log. Doing one crossing was enough for me – she did 3. How people with huge packs do it is beyond comprehension coming from a 70 year old- perhaps it’s just youth, agility and fearlessness.

After some reflective moments we headed along a track before it came to the river and first of three what you might call challenging or exciting crossing.

First up it was some climbing through and then up and over huge boulders and sliding onto the next one- ticked that off with a few scratches. 

Bit more wending the way across more boulders in semi upright positions and it was a roughly made log bridge, which thankfully had a rock to steady you.

Next was a bit more challenging descent down  a log ladder for about 10 metres. It wasn’t your store bought ladder with the rungs irregular in step size. It was basically laying pretty flat and looking between your legs for the next step, all under guidance of GI Jane and our old mate the hare who had caught us up.

Another deep breath and time for regaining a regular heart beat, unclenching the scphincter and some happy snaps of we three.

Standing in the boulder filled river you ponder on how people manage when there is a decent flow of water.

Up onto the bank and ran into another Russian who raised spirits with news their was a cafe a kilometre along the track. Were not sure if it was a joke or reality.

Another bit of rocky track hopping for 30 odd minutes and there it was a cafe. We found out a few things.

• the abandoned car was cafe owners 
• He brings in all provisions from where we just walked
• He has the right to charge 10 times the local price for a can of Coke 
• we still had 4 kilometres up and 4 kilometres down before track ended

The track weaved it’s way up to 800 odd metres and there were plenty of breaks, including lunch,before any hint of a downslope. Plenty of wild roses along the track waiting to inflict another scratch and tough underfoot conditions tested the resolve.

About 100 square metres of flat stuff up the top provided a nice rough camping spot and a chance to regain composure for way down.

Just as we set off downhill a crew of 10 hikers – yes you guessed it they were Russian- huffed their way to the top. Looking at their faces several were already spent and dejected and they still had the trials and tribulations we had experienced. Can assure the conversation between Boris and Natasha who were pushing 60 would have been intriguing to interpret.

The two hour descent was rocky, but when you did get s chance to stop and take in the scenery it was breathtaking, with the canyon and high surrounding mountains.

At about 300 as we were getting lower it was getting quite dark and you wondered where the people we were just passing were spending the evening.

Came to an uncommon flat spot with the best view and three,dressed for partying not walking, Russians drinking a bottle of wine. We shared a bit of a chat and some photo opportunities before leaving and wondering what the last kilometre downhill for them might be like.

Thirty minutes later we heard more voices and a whirring noise and took the last steps off the hill onto a flat surface. 

We were in a wonderful setting on the river and whirring was two zip lines. There was also a rope bridge, we did not have to cross- much to my delight. Lots if people wandering around and coming up to a water crossing. 

At six inches deep I was not changing into reef shoes , so splashed the boots whilst Jane tried unduccessfully to use the Ill spacd stepping stones.

The other side was a bustling area full of people eating and drinking and heading off to engage in the various activities. We grabbed a beer and Gozleme and sat in one of the booths along the side of the river, watching people fly by on the zip line.

It was not the end for us as we had a 2km plod to our fabulous accommodation. It was best on tour and resembled an Aussie motel. Only slight problem was our luggage had not moved.

As we lingered over a couple of beers the various owners worked out the problem and it was about an hour and a half later when it arrived.

The best on tour theme continued with a great soup, salmon and baclava dinner, without the need for another drink as an extremely tough day finished on a really great note.

No walk tomorrow, we decided that another 1500 metre up over the mountain pass was for younger legs,. Instead we are heading for the beach and getting picked up later in the afternoon to head back into the mountains to ready ourselves for another mountain stretch on Monday.