Drying Out in the Dark Valley
There was a torrent of water in the narrow river powering down the dark valley. The sound was just audible from a distance, but up close it was noisy and relentless, yet at the same time captivating, mesmerising even.
I had seen the woman from the mountain ridge, swimming upriver from the valley below, like a salmon to its breeding ground. Every so often she was forced to stand, in order to navigate her way through the waterfalls that interspersed her ascent to the river’s source.
By the time I reached the valley floor she had temporarily left the water to stretch her lean muscles after such a magnificent effort. The air was warm and her wet skin started to dry in the gentle breeze. When the midges began to surround her, she re-entered the river, squeezed her naked body through large black boulders and in a moment, had slipped into a deep pool. The last I saw of her was no more than an undulating flash of pale skin under the dark water and then she was gone.