Day seven: a train track, a bridge and a peak
I remember feeling sad. Purely hormonal. The start of a mild period. I thought the bonhomie of the holiday was all over. But it’s okay.
We walked about the nine arch bridge which was very picturesque. Everyone uses the railway here like a road and we listen out carefully to hear the train. Luckily there are very few and the ones that do come along come slowly. They might have time to stop if they saw anyone walking along. Lots and lots of photos taken and quite a bit of sweating getting back up to the van. The arches were magnificent reaching across the deep valley, down into the jungle below. The sun shone, legs wagged over the edge of the bridge, people posed on the rails, up and down we ran, the smell of urine in the air, coconuts on sale at either end, everyone happy and full of expectation, waiting for the train to rumble by and cameras to snap it up. Gleeful.
Then we walked up, and up again to Adam’s Peak. Beloved heaved like a pair of bellows, gasping his way to the top noisily. He says it sounds much worse than it is.