Three Cranes 2019 is done and the Old Goat and I are still alive. In fact we are still married which is quite a thing considering his tendency to boss me around whilst on a perpendicular muddy slope. He is damn lucky one of my poles didnât slip and stab him somewhere unmentionable.
Out of the three days, day three was the most interesting. It went something like this:
3am â the alarm rings
BRAIN: Legs, are you there?
Silence.
BRAIN: Hey legs, itâs time to move.
LEGS: Fuck off Brain.
4:00am â the main tent bursts into life with a very loud rendition of âThe Final Countdownâ and luckily Legs decides to co-operate with Brain, and we all down our third cup of coffee and swing into action.
And what a run/hike/crawl/slide it was! We climbed 900 metres up the back of Mount Gilboa with the sunrise as a backdrop, had a glorious trot along an escarpment and then nearly got divorced whilst sliding on our arses down the mountain. I do not take kindly to being told what to do when I am clearly staring Death in the face and just need a moment to myself.
Twenty hours of relentless forward motion to cover 90 kilometres of trail, spectacular views, great organisation which even the hectic weather couldnât spoil, and great company. What is there not to love?