Reluctant Traveller by Bill Lumley

Reluctant Traveller by Bill Lumley

Author:Bill Lumley
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Travel
ISBN: 9780956122254
Publisher: Prospera Publishing
Published: 2009-10-19T00:00:00+00:00


Chapter Fourteen

Dangling on the edge of sanity.

IN SPITE OF MY FOUL MOOD, SETTING OUT FOR THE FIRST TIME on board Hot Rock was, I have to admit, an experience I found briefly enjoyable.

Of course, I had to remind myself I was hardly in safe hands – with their bizarre taste for outdoor adventure, most of this lot seemed overly anxious to meet their maker. Still, standing high above the street on the imposing truck with the warm air brushing my face, I forgot my misery and impending death for a few moments. I didn’t have to do anything but stand at the front, behind the cab with the roof slid six or seven feet back, and experience the awe and disbelief of the native Ethiopians. Maybe this was how the Queen feels when she visits the colonies? (Although I suspect she gets bullet proof glass, which was unfair. Of the two of us, I was far more likely to be shot. From inside the vehicle. By Gar.)

A great sensation it may have been, but I couldn’t escape the incongruity of my own presence on board. For some unknown reason the mountaineers accepted me, but my enjoyment was to be short-lived.

Out of Gondar the scenery became more lush and the roads narrower. The truck was a huge vehicle and up ahead was a rather dramatic-looking, hair-pin turn.

I jumped down from my perch and found Gar. He was investigating a small camera malfunction.

‘What kind of turning circle does this thing have?’ I asked worriedly.

‘Don’t start,’ snarled Gar. Clearly he had more important things than death on his mind, like how to get a minute piece of fluff off the lens of his SLR.

‘But you should see the roads up ahead.’

Gar sighed deeply. ‘Get a grip, will you. Haven’t you been listening to these guys? They know what they are doing.’

Dave, who had overheard, told me the truck had a very small turning circle. I replied that unless it could levitate, we were in trouble.

Flickering of eyelids all around. I slouched back to my perfect view of disaster. A few minutes later I was delighted to be proved wrong – the Hot Rock truck managed the turns the way I do a packet of HobNobs. Quickly and efficiently.

My thoughts turned to other potential hazards. For instance, the United Nations estimates there are somewhere between half a million and four million unexploded mines in that part of the world. Mines! New sites are still being discovered every day, following decades of fighting in the area. A number of Ethiopians still get killed every year from Italian ordnance.

I approached Gar and Dave again.

‘About those mines . . .’

A strange strangled sound burst from Gar, but Dave stayed calm.

‘Don’t worry mate. A guide has assured me there are no mines on the Eritrea border.’

Somehow, hearsay from a man Dave had met pushing a donkey through Gondar seemed able to override every string of common sense that advised against travel to the border region.

I told myself that



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