Rawrie the Adventurer

Okay, so let me tell you a bit about the woods around my house.  It's your typical woodsy area, trees here and there, leaves on the ground, moss and ferns abound.  I have this lovely little babbling brook that you can get to by climbing down a 7-9 foot slope that's almost ninety degrees down.  There are no useful holds (I assume they're filled with all manner of biting, stinging creatures), and aside from the small dangerous bug-caverns, it's just damp dirt and moss.

I was in my faux fur vest out in the woods, wearing war paint made from a special type of rock.  No real reason why, I just felt like it.  I decided I was going to climb down that steep slope and back up.  Going down was easy enough.  I sat down and let gravity do it's job, using a stick I found to slow my descent.

Getting back up was the hard part.

I leaped from side to side across the stream.  Thorn patches lined one side, the steep cliff on the other.  I made a final leap and landed against the wall, having luckily landed on a slight, unstable ledge.  I turned around so my back was facing the cliff.  I edged along the ledge that felt like it could give way any second.  I had gotten pretty high up, when I started to slip.

That's why I'm sitting in a hospital with a broken ankle.  Kidding.

So, I started to slip, and I did some sort of instinctive ninja turn, reached up, and grabbed a small tree.  I just hung there, dangling by a tree with nothing beneath my feet but a rocky stream.  Then, I took a deep breath and scrambled up the slope, grabbed a tree root with one hand, and pulled myself from the onto flat ground.  I stumbled back to my house, humming some song from "The Hobbit" (cartoon version), and with no injured body parts, I sat down at my computer, determined to tell of my adventure.

I feel a great sense of accomplishment.  My knees are shaky.  Don't try this at home, kids.