for more than a mile, sometimes having to leave the river edge and move inland, but making a pretty good pace of it. At last we came out on a sand shoal and looked across at an easy bank on the other side of the river and a broken and easily climbed bluff.
“We’re going to have to swim,” Mr. Marechal said. He waded out into the water until he was standing in water to his waist about one-quarter of the way across.
Then we started across with both of our leaders standing guard. The water was cold and it wasn’t half as much fun to get soaked as it had been the first time. Our clothes are dirt- and water-resistant and dry quickly, but believe me, it is far nicer to have them dry off you than to have them dry while you are wearing them. On the far bank I dripped and shivered.
We all gathered on the grassy bank and then Mr. Pizarro and Mr. Marechal splashed and swam across to join us. We climbed through the underbrush and tumbled rock and by the time we reached the top of the bluff, if I wasn’t fully dry at least I wasn’t shivering.
The bluff was covered with forest, too, but standing on the edge we could see the easy, forest-covered slope on the other side from above, a dark green rising carpet. Then we turned into the woods and didn’t come out again until we were standing on the bluff edge opposite our camp.
I didn’t like standing on the edge, so I came to the lip on my knees and looked down at the river. It looked a long way down—a drop big enough to kill you, and after that distances are academic. At the base, there looked to be just room to stand and no more. As it had been explained to us, the two ropes would be tied in place here at the top of the bluff and then each of us would whip the ropes around our waists and step off the cliff backward. Looking down, I didn’t exactly relish the idea. I moved back from the edge and then got to my feet.
“Well,” Mr. Marechal said, “who’s going to be the first to try it?”
Jimmy said, “Mia and I will.”
Mr. Marechal looked at me and I said, “Yes.” I didn’t like the thought of doing it, but if it was something expected of everybody and I was going to have to do it eventually, I didn’t mind doing it first and getting it over with.
The ropes were tied to trees and then passed around our waists, around the main ropes, and then back around the waists again. Mr. Pizarro and Mr. Marechal demonstrated for everybody how this worked. The ends were finally dropped back between our legs and over the edge of the cliff to dangle just above the river. In effect, what we were doing was putting ourselves in a running loop that slid freely on the rope and then moving down the rope to the river.
At the signal, we stood with our backs to the river, the rope taut between us and our trees. I looked down at the river and sighed, then stepped backward off the edge. I let line pay out for a moment and then stopped it and swung in to come to a halt with my feet against the cliff-face, my body hanging in the loop from the tree on the cliff above. I was almost surprised that it worked. Then I pushed off again and went down another six or seven feet. This was not hard at all, and rather fun. I looked over at Jimmy and laughed. Then, almost before I knew it, I was at the bottom. The bank here was wider than it looked from above, four or five feet wide, and Jimmy and I landed at almost the same moment.
We pulled the ropes free and waved up at the people on top.
“It’s easy,” Jimmy called.
“It’s fun,” I said.
The ropes were snaked up again to the top of the bluff as we watched.
Jimmy said, “There’s no sense in staying down here. Let’s go across the river.”
We swam across again and then watched while the next pair rappelled down the cliff. We sat on the last completed part of the cabin, a slab doorstep.
As we watched, I said, “Thank you for volunteering me, by the way.”
“I know,” Jimmy said. “You’re a reluctant daredevil. Aren’t you the person who