Chapter 5.
“You can't trust water: Even a straight stick turns crooked in it.” W. C. Fields
Uncle Martin silently handed me the flowers, which were being battered by the wind. It was then, that I noticed that he was wearing gloves. And, it was then, that I began to feel a fluttering of panic, but I struggled hard not to show it. Also, part of my mind was telling me not to be silly; he’s my brother after all. A song came into my head from Sunday School long ago…
“Let me walk with my brother. In perfect harmony.”
We pushed against the wind and soon came to the Golden Stairs, and began our downward journey, which led to the Federal Pass walking track. It was getting hard to see, and I had to constantly push back my hair, which was being pasted across my eyes by the muscular wind gusts. I stumbled a few times, and hoped we were not going far. Why didn’t I ask? I really don’t know.
Memories stealthily stole into my mind. I remembered how mum had told me how the Giant Stairway, had been slashed into the rock, back during the Great Depression, in the hope of attracting more tourists. And that there were actually 980 steps to the valley bottom. It must have been a risky job cutting the steps into the cliff face. It was bad enough walking down them, especially in the dark, with a murderous wind on the loose…… and perhaps, a murderous man…. Oh! Why was I thinking such things!
We’ll not go far Uncle Martin shouted over the beating wind. I merely nodded, as he switched on a small torch, to light our way on the slippery rocks.