GOING SOLO
High atop the towering yet perilously slender finger of granite, Boris looks over the edge. It’s actually not so much a ‘look’ as an ‘in-depth study’ – he’s been there for some time. Fraser joins him, and they point and rub the backs of their necks. “I’m not going down there, it’s death!” Fraser grins, as he retreats past me.
Boris is still staring. I love Boris dearly, but I can’t take it any longer. I need to give it a go. My legs are beginning to lock as the height sinks in and the severity of the trail ahead starts to percolate around the edges of the – admittedly small – box in
