Suzie’s House 25: The Times, They Are A Changing
The beatific smile on Vin’s face took Miranda’s breath away. He was always charming in his boyish way, but the triumphant joy on his face as he sat on the edge of the bed made her painfully aware of how appealing he could be. Stupid man.
“I’m ready. Let’s go home.” He stood, drawing Miranda’s gaze from head to toe.
“There’s blood on your shirt. Is that a hole?!”
“If I wait for one of you to get around to bringing my clothes, I’ll never get out of here. I’m wearing what I had on when I was shot. So shoot me.” His eyes flashed and he his chin came up to a stubborn angle.
“No, Honey-bear.” She touched his shoulder lightly in reassurance. “It’s all right.”
Vin grinned. Miranda winced. If she could take the endearment back she’d crawl across the Wal-Mart parking lot on the morning after Thanksgiving to do it. Between her little slip of the lip just now and the kiss a few days ago – which could also be considered a slip of the lip – Vin must have all kinds of misconceptions. Like, that she cared about him.
“We should get going.” Drew glanced at his watch. “Suzie wants to take lunch over to the school for Ben.”
Suzie nodded, but Miranda ignored her. If Miranda didn’t make eye contact, maybe Suzie would be too busy to notice what was going on with Vin. If Suzie noticed, she’d be bound to put in her two cents, which could be something really scary like, “go for it.”
Miranda reached for Vin’s arm, then realized he was supposed to go out by wheel chair. That was close. She could easily imagine Vin putting his arm around her shoulders and using his condition as an excuse to lean on her. She didn’t want that. Of course not. Miranda went to see about a wheel chair.
The nurse with the wheel chair was right outside the door. Vin looked a little disappointed when Miranda wouldn’t hold his hand the whole way to the car, but brightened considerably when she sat next to him in the back. She let him hold her hand then.
It was only because she was so relieved that he was all right. He might not be recovered all the way, but it wouldn’t be long until he was back to the same, old, happy-go-lucky Marvelous Marvin that she… um… liked.
If he looked a little hard and long at the cars they passed, scrutinized the people on the sidewalk, and lost his smile far more easily now, Miranda shouldn’t be surprised. He’d been through a lot. She’d be a bit jumpy too.
Drew pulled the car onto the grass in the back yard so the rear door where Vin sat lined up with the steps into the back door of the house.
“Wait in the car until I get the door open,” Drew said. He hopped out and dashed up the steps with his keys out.
“You locked the door?” Vin asked.
“We’ve had to make a number of changes since the guy who shot you showed up at the house. We keep the doors locked even when we’re home now,” Suzie said in her quiet, contained way.
Miranda gave his hand an extra squeeze for reassurance. “Looks like the coast is clear.” She glanced around a second time to be sure.
“Since when have you been special ops?” Vin smiled to take the bite out of the comment, but the smile didn’t make it to his eyes.
No one bothered to answer. They got him into the house as quickly as they could. Suzie busied herself in the kitchen. Drew went through the house room by room, though he didn’t draw his gun this time. That left Miranda to help Vin.
Just as she feared, he put his arm across her shoulder, pulled her close, and leaned in. Worse, he sniffed her hair, taking a deep breath.
“You smell good,” he said.
“Don’t you dare say anything about me smelling like a woman should.”
They crossed through the kitchen and the central hall to the living room, which was in the middle of the house between the bathroom at the very back and Suzie’s little office in the very front. It was a good sized room with a couple of seating arrangements.
“Despite what you might think, I’m not your girlfriend.” She tightened her grip around his waist as they worked their way around the couch toward an easy chair in front of the TV. “Nothing has changed between us. We’re still just friends.”
He let go of her, leaving her feeling momentarily abandoned. Momentarily because she refused to let the feeling stick around. Vin collapsed on the sofa, ignoring the easy chair, and managed to scoop up the remote as he settled.
“Ah. That’s better.” He looked up at her, his expression calm, but serious. “Miranda, one thing HAS changed. I may be out of the hospital, but I haven’t recovered yet. You’re going to have to nurse me for a while.”
“If you think I’m going to wait on you hand and foot just because you got yourself shot…”
“I expect everyone is going to be giving me a hand now and then. But tonight you feed me.” He still looked so serious, as if the bullet had killed his sense of humor.
Miranda visualized spooning baby food into his mouth. No way she was going to coddle him. “I don’t think so.”
“Of course you are. It’s Friday.”
“So?”
“It’s your turn to cook.” He grinned the old gotcha grin, and Miranda breathed a sigh of relief.
The previous was Suzie’s House 24: A Mother’s Love
This is Suzie’s House 25: The Times, They Are A Changing
Next is Suzie’s House 26: The New Chef
From Jackson to Jackson
It was a whirlwind tour last weekend. All told I drove just over 700 miles. We went from Jackson Montana to Jackson Wyoming and back. There’s quite a difference between them.
Here’s one of the main streets in Jackson Wyoming.
Now check out the only street in Jackson Montana.
Jackson Wyoming features such exotic locals as the Ripley’s Believe It Or Not Museum, a central square with unique entry way arches,and a large number of motels, bars, and trinket shops. Jackson Montana features a general store, a “Hot Springs” resort, a hat factory, a school, and a bar.
Jackson Wyoming LOOKS Western. Jackson Montana IS Western. I like them both.
.
Alice
The Water In Wyoming
I went rafting in Jackson Wyoming last weekend. What a blast! I went with my kids, mother, and sister. We went with a tour group; the Jackson Hole Whitewater/Teton Expeditions Scenic Float Trips group on July 1st at noon.
Why give all the details? Because two photo companies set up shop on the cliff over the scariest rapids. You can go to www.snakeriverphotos.net or www.floatographs.com and see pictures of me!
I’m the fat lady in the blue top and brown pants on the nose of the raft. The rafting guide called it “Riding Rodeo.” I called it “Being the hood ornament.” Only, as my mother said, when we got to the big stuff, the hood ornament broke off. Into the boat, luckily. I have “swam” before, but not on this particular trip.
I have some chatty stuff to day about Jackson Wyoming and the trip too and from, but that can wait until tomorrow.
Alice
Tudor Follies: A Queen Besieged
Mr. Al left us wondering how Cranmer would wring confessions from Queen Katherine (The Howard Katherine, not that earlier one). Today he lets us know.
****
He couldn’t touch the Queen, of course. But he could try to trick an incriminating statement out of her. She was Queen, but she was also an emotionally distraught teenage girl. It was worth a try. In the meantime, he could turn the pros in the Tower lose on Dereham and Culpeper. His first meeting with her didn’t go so well. For either of them. Katherine was so hysterical that Cranmer couldn’t get a coherent sentence out of her. He decided to try again later. He also decided that the adversarial approach would be counter- productive. Instead, he would be her friend, someone with her best interests at heart.
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The new warm and cuddly Archbishop of Canterbury returned the next day. He had a letter from someone important! Would she like to read it? Oh… nevermind. He’d be happy to read it to her. It was from Henry! His Majesty was willing to forgive all if only she would fess up to every stupid, nasty, slutty thing she had ever done. Willingly or unwillingly. My, my. It certainly takes a big fellow to make that kind of offer. There now, didn’t her Majesty feel better? All that she had to do MAKE things better was to sign some unimportant papers the contents of which she needn’t worry her pretty little head about.
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Katherine didn’t buy it.
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She did give Cranmer the impression that a pre- contract existed between her and Dereham. There was nothing on paper; in fact, most of the reality of this pre-contract seemed to exist in Dereham’s head. It seems that he enjoyed going about calling Katherine his wife while she was with the Duchess. Dereham certainly expected her to act like a wife in at least one respect. When she was questioned about this Katherine stated that Dereham had raped her. That she never willingly submitted to him. She was probably telling the truth. A number of people in Katherine’s royal household were convinced that Dereham had blackmailed his way back into Katherine’s life.
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Cranmer had no use for this information. He wanted evidence that Katherine and Dereham were still having sex. At the very least, that a pre-contract existed. Then the marriage could be annulled. Katherine back-peddled and said no such thing existed. Not ever. She didn’t realize that the existence of a pre-contract would nullify any charge of adultery. You can’t commit adultery if both parties are unmarried. She believed admitting to a pre-contract would make things worse.
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Productive conversation between Cranmer and Katherine came to a screeching halt when Katherine found out that almost every guy she was suspected of sleeping with, since marrying Henry, was a guest in the Tower. Her emotional state was such the Cranmer thought she was losing her mind. Cranmer wrote up what he had to date in the form of a confession. Before Dereham there had been a music teacher named Manox. That started when Katherine was ten or eleven and lasted until he was fired by the Duchess. Dereham picked up where Manox left off until Katherine entered Queen Anne’s household and Dereham set sail to be a Celtic Jack Sparrow. There was nothing about Culpeper, A handsome courtier who’s only crime seems to have been being attracted to the Queen in a way that got people’s attention.
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No matter. Cranmer believed he had enough. No, she did not confess to adultery, but he had enough to prove a case of pre-contract, the evidence just needed a little tweaking here and there. That would annul the marriage and he could sweep the court clean of the Howard clan. And Henry wouldn’t have to chop Katherine’s head off! Pheew! Time for everyone to put this sordid business behind them and move on.
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Henry was pleased that his little Katherine hadn’t cheated on him. Cranmer assured him that he could prove a pre-contract. Marriage annulled. End of story. Henry returned to Hampton Court in high spirits. When Cranmer got there the place was buzzing like a beehive on a hot July afternoon. Rumors were flying. Henry would divorce Katherine and take back Anne. He was going to chop Katherine’s head off and take back Anne. That all was forgiven and he would continue with Katherine. There was another woman and Henry would kill that poor girl so he could have his way with yet another.
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Cranmer knew Henry well enough to realize that he might very well take Katherine back if she was allowed to talk to him. The second half of the Henry Marriage Drill went into effect. Katherine was sent to a place in the country until the matter was settled. Cranmer also realized that as long as Katherine was alive there would always be a danger that the two of them would kiss and make up. Henry had to be rid of Katherine beyond all hope of reconciliation. Cranmer was still at Hampton Court when he discovered that Henry’s mind and his were as one on the subject.
****
Poor Katherine. I really feel for her.
Alice
Deli Jerky
I’m not sure this counts as a recipe. It’s more of a food-how-to suggestion. My mother wanted me to share it. I had planned on linking to a food preparation manual that had it in it, but I can no longer find the manual.
So here it goes:
To make jerky go to the deli or deli section of your favorite grocery story. Ask them to slice up some pastrami in the thinest slices they can get. Drape the slices on racks in your oven. Turn the oven on to its lowest setting. Let it cook until crisp.
Alice
When Do You Show Your Work?
Do you keep your writing to yourself until the entire book is done? Or do you like to be cheered on as you go? Do you write to your vision, to your audience, or both?
My first three attempts at writing a book went bust. The second attempt in particular was spectacular because I spent twenty years on it, and never once got close to the end. I showed it to anyone who would sit still long enough for me to put it under their nose, and got all kinds of conflicting feedback. That book left a mental scar.
It took me seven months to write my first Romance. I pushed myself mercilessly, forcing the words out and demanding all kinds of time from my family. I was afraid if I didn’t get it done quickly, I’d never finish it at all. When I had finished the rough draft I thought I was done. I showed it to my mother. She damned it with faint praise.
Frankly, knowing my mother I doubt she will ever wax rhapsodic over anything I write, so damning with faint praise isn’t as bad as it sounds. Still, it wasn’t very encouraging.
I immediately threw myself into revisions, and made what I thought was good progress, then sent it off to Leisure. I got a personal rejection letter – not just a form letter – out of that submission. Again, faint praise, but some encouragement.
My next several books were all written with the same kind of fever, a kind of desperation to prove to myself that I would actually write the book. I got a lot written in the years before I found a critique group.
Since finding the critique group my rate of production has plummeted. I’ve been focusing on revision instead. I never showed anything to any of my CP’s that didn’t have at least a completed rough draft if not a fair amount of polish. However, I’ve stripped books down and rebuilt them so much that sometimes my CP’s were seeing material fresh off the press.
I am now at the point where I have written 15 books, but have no completes. Zackly Right seems to be close, but the first time someone points out a soft spot, you know I’ll be rebuilding it again. A couple of years ago I was sure Serpent’s Teeth was done. It’s currently getting a new villain. I’m not sure where to stop.
For a long time my advice to anyone who hadn’t completed at least a rough draft was to NOT go around getting feedback or do anything until the rough draft was done. I still think this is a good way to do it because the vision for the book is less likely to twist out from under you as you write. In the back of my mind will always be that second book, which got revised from scratch four times though it never came close to having an ending.
However, I’m beginning to think it’s a bit like jumping the pool. I’m firmly in the just-jump-in-and-get-it-over-with camp. Others are in the ease-in-slowly group. I’m quite willing to keep on writing when the writing isn’t going well because I know I’ll discover what I need to fix earlier parts later on. However, I’ve seen for myself how much easier it can be to write when you go back and fix something that’s gone awry before moving on.
So which group are you in? Which way do you do it? If you could pass a message into the past, what would you tell yourself?
Alice
Suzie’s House 24: A Mother’s Love
Suzie thrust her arm out from under the covers, feeling for the snooze button on the alarm clock. Eyes still closed, she touched the hard plastic, pressing on the button on top, but the ringing kept coming and going. Not until she lifted her head from the pillow, eyes blurry, did the ringing stop, and it was followed immediately with “Hello?” in a deep, masculine voice.
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Someone had answered the phone. As Vin was still in the hospital, and Ben was too young to sound sexy, the voice must belong to Drew.
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Ben! Suzie squinted at the alarm clock. It was already half an hour past when the school bus should be picking him up. Her alarm hadn’t gone off.
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Panicked, Suzie threw off the covers and snatched up a robe.
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“Ben? Ben! It’s time for school.”
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The door to his bedroom stood open. His bed was made and his backpack gone. She whipped past Drew, who stood by the phone in the upstairs hall, and headed for the kitchen. A bowl with some of Ben’s favorite cereal sat in the sink. There was no sign of Ben. Suzie slumped against the door frame and groaned.
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She’d let him down. She hadn’t meant to, but that wasn’t much consolation to a kid. Ben had become awfully careful around everyone since well before the divorce. The boy tried so hard to please her. Sometimes she was afraid he tried too hard, like he was afraid the world would come crashing around his ears if he did anything wrong. Couldn’t she at least send him off to school?
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“What’s the matter?” Drew looked alert, glancing around the room like a cop in an emergency before focusing on her face.
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“Something’s wrong with my alarm clock. I didn’t get up to send Ben to school. This makes two days in a row.”
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“I know. I sent him off yesterday.” Drew passed her on the way to the coffee maker, oblivious to her humiliation. “He’s a big boy. He can handle himself.” Or maybe Drew wasn’t so oblivious. “But I think we should have a talk with him about the situation here in the house.” He poured himself a cup of coffee.
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The situation? Suzie sucked in a gulp of air with a hiss. She pushed herself away from the door frame, every maternal nerve in her body going on alert. “You think Ben is in danger?”
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“Up until a few days ago I thought the only ones in danger in this house were Drew and I, and only while we were on the job. I have to tell myself it’s still true, but we all need to take precautions. Ben shouldn’t be walking to the bus stop by himself.”
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Suzie spun on her heel and headed for her bedroom. Now that Drew had planted the idea in her mind she would not be satisfied until she saw for herself that her son was still fine. Drew caught up with her half way to the stairs.
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“He’s all right, except for a little disagreement with his English teacher. That was her on the phone a minute ago. She said he acted up in class today, and she wants you to arrange a meeting.”
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“Oh.” Suzie’s relief took the edge off her concerns. She climbed the steps in a much more leisurely manner than she’d come from the kitchen. “I’ll call her back as soon as I’m dressed.” Then she paused, and turned toward Drew. “Do you think I should spend the day with him?”
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“No.” Drew said firmly. “You can’t follow him from class to class without ruining his self confidence, not to mention his reputation. You’d be better off sending him away. I don’t suppose he has grandparents out of town somewhere.”
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He was serious. Drew thought she should send her only child somewhere else. As if the time he spent with his father wasn’t hard enough to take. She couldn’t imagine living without Ben for very long.
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But if his safety lay in the balance, she’d have to do it. Assuming she could find someone in the family willing to take him. Suzie pinched the bridge of her nose and closed her eyes. Taking boarders in was turning out to be a much worse idea than Suzie had ever suspected.
The previous was Suzie’s House 23: The Forgotten One
This is Suzie’s House 24: A Mother’s Love
Next is Suzie’s House 25: The Times, They Are A Changing
Hey Lynn!
Every time I try to get onto your site I get error messages. I’m not having trouble with anyone else’s. Just yours.
Alice
Guilty Secret – I Read Reader's Digest.
But only for the jokes. Honest. I’m not so much into drama that I read every article.
The jokes, on the other hand, keep me telling my MIL that the subscription is greatly appreciated, which in turn keeps it coming.
In my mind Readers Digest hasn’t changed much. It looks the same as it did when I was a kid. That was a LOOOOONG time ago. However, I’m finding evidence that they are at least aware of the times. For instance check out this joke:
“The latest term being bandied about our IT office id PICNIC: ‘Problem In Chair, Not In Computer.'”
They still have some old ones too.
“Why were the elephants kicked off the beach? They were walking around with their trunks down.”
I did notice, however, that the month I went in for surgery they had a cover story about mistakes made by hospitals. I refuse to look at the back pain cover on this month’s issue. And we won’t even begin to talk about Reader’s Digest’s version of the weather.
Nope. Instead I’ll leave you with this tid bit:
Still groggy from an operation, the patient was in an agitated state. “Nurse,” he moaned, “I heard the surgeon use a four-letter word, and it caused me great distress.”
“What did the surgeon say?” asked the nurse.
“Oops.”
Alice
Travelling Woes
OK, not the best joke I’ve ever posted, but not the worst I’ll come up with either: You are driving in a car at a constant speed. On your left side is a ‘drop off’, (The ground is 18-20 inches below the level you are traveling on), and on your right side is a fire engine traveling at the same speed as you. In front of you is a galloping horse, which is the same size as your car and you cannot overtake it. Behind you is a galloping zebra. Both the horse and zebra are also traveling at the same speed as you. What must you do to safely get out of this highly dangerous situation?
For the
answer,
click and
drag your
mouse
from star to
star.
* Get
your
drunk-
ass off
the
merry-
go-
round. *
Tudor Follies: The Sad Tale of Katherine Howard
It’s Tudor Tuesday and Mr. Al is back with his short and pithy take on history. Put down your cereal bowls. We’re going to skirt the edges of “eww” with this one.
***
Of the six wives of Henry the VIII, Katherine Howard was probably the least prepared for what lay ahead. She had no idea what she was getting herself into. Her mother died when she was a toddler. Her father remarried, but her stepmother had little to do with her upbringing. She was sent to live in the household of her step-grandmother, the Dowager Duchess of Norfolk. That woman more or less ignored Katherine from day one. Her education was spotty, at best. By today’s standards Katherine was functionally illiterate. If only the neglect had stopped there.
.
Basically, Katherine ran wild with damned little adult supervision growing up. This was something that would be brought up at her trial. The Duchess tried very hard to hide her gross incompetence as a foster parent. If her detractors are to be believed Katherine began having sex when she was ten or eleven; A bit early, even in an age when many girls were married at twelve. It seemed to be the story of Katherine’s short life to be used by adults for their own ends. It was certainly the intention of her uncle and the Duchess that she do everything in her power to attract Henry. She was considered pretty by many, of medium height with auburn hair and gray eyes. Beyond the fact that her early life was unsupervised, little is known about Katherine as a girl.
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She and Henry were married at the Oatlands, one of Henry’s palaces. The date was July 28, 1540. By odd coincidence, it was the same day as Cromwell’s execution. Henry had decided to demonstrate his merciful side by having Cromwell’s sentence commuted to “simple decapitation.” The London crowds must have been keenly disappointed. It was probably some consolation to them that the executioner bungled the first strike and had to try again to get the head to come off. What the hell, at least they weren’t charged admission.
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Henry and Katherine hadn’t even left for their honeymoon before Katherine’s enemies began looking for ways to bring her down. They weren’t really Katherine’s enemies; these people didn’t give a tinker’s cuss about Katherine. The Duke of Norfolk was the target. Having Katherine killed was just a formality. As they dug up the dirt on Katherine’s sordid past, a problem arose. All this stuff was useless unless they could prove that Katherine was still having it off with whomever. Pre-marital sex wasn’t against the law. It certainly didn’t make her look good, but it wasn’t a death sentence.
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The man who made it his mission to bring Katherine down was Archbishop of Canterbury Cranmer. He was against what Katherine represented; The Catholic faction. To have this faction in the ascendancy was unacceptable. These people were against everything Cranmer had worked so hard for. Henry’s church was too new to allow this group even a toehold in Henry’s court.
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Consequently, Cranmer went to work on gathering evidence that Katherine was still having it off with other men. A job made both easier and harder by Katherine herself. Easier because she made one of her alleged ex-lovers a member of her household. Harder because the only evidence against her came from servants who never saw anything directly. Even under intense questioning, the best these servants could give Cranmer were stories about Katherine spending a few hours with this or that fellow late at night, but never alone. The lady Rochford, of the Queen’s Privy Chamber, was always present. And these gents never stayed the whole night.
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If no one was willing to tell Cranmer what he wanted to hear through routine questioning, perhaps a little persuasion was in order. It looked like some people needed a trip to the Tower to loosen their tongues. Two fellows in particular, Francis Dereham and Thomas Culpeper were prime suspects. Both had known Katherine before Henry and Dereham had made statements in public that he and Katherine would one day be married.
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There were plenty of stories about the two of them while Katherine was still under the Duchess of Norfolk’s roof. And Dereham was the guy Katherine made her private secretary. Not a smart move on her part, particularly since he had no obvious qualifications for the job. The last time Katherine had seen him, before she took up her post as a lady in waiting to Anne of Cleves, Dereham had announced he was going to Ireland to become a pirate! Witnesses testified that Katherine was visibly relived to see him go.
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“See ya later, Francis! Yo ho ho and a bottle of Jamison’s! You go Francis! Live the dream! That’s it, keep going, have fun, do forget to write, see ya.” (I made up that last bit.)
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Katherine expressed the hope that she would never see him again.
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Even though he had not collected solid evidence of adultery, Cranmer felt that he should let Henry in on his suspicions. He was confident that he could prove Katherine’s promiscuous past. That should be enough to get the green light for a full-scale investigation. Poor Henry. By all accounts he really was in love with Katherine. Cranmer’s information was a profound shock to him. Unlike Cromwell, Cranmer was not born to this sort of thing. He was a theologian, not a secret policeman. His concern was for the church. Henry gave him a bad scare by telling him what would happen to him if he didn’t have his facts strait.
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After he calmed down, Henry told Cranmer to do whatever he had to do to get to the bottom of this mess. Like Anne Boleyen before her, Katharine was confined to quarters until the matter was settled. This gave her a very bad turn. The fine points of the law were totally beyond her. That Henry even suspected her of adultery was enough to convince her that her fate was sealed.
.
Did she have a guilty conscience? Not about her behavior after her marriage. There never was any evidence that she had committed adultery. That Dereham and Culpeper wanted to sleep with her after she became Queen, there was evidence. That Katherine had firmly rebuffed them, there was evidence. Cranmer ran with the former and ignored the latter. Lacking solid evidence, Cranmer did what any unscrupulous 16th century prosecutor would do. He would wring, in the worst sense of the word, confessions out of the suspects.
***
Thank you Mr. Al. Now I want to know what happened to Cranmer. Not what happens because of him. What happens to him. Does he get his?
Alice
Banana Bread
Anyone seen my whipping banana? I seem to be in a mood.
2 c. all-purpose flour
1 tsp baking soda
1/2 tsp salt
1/2 c butter
1 c sugar
2 eggs
1 and 1/2 c banana
1/2 c chopped nuts
Sift dry ingredients together in a bowl. In a large mixing bowl, cream together room temperature butter and sugar until fluffy. Add eggs one at a time, beating after each one. Add sifted dry ingredients alternately with banana puree. Add chopped nuts. Pour into greased 9c5 inch loaf pan. Bake in moderate over 350 deg for 55 to 60 minutes or until toothpick comes out clean.
Thank you Mandy Brooks.
Alice
Notes From The Island
Here’s a little something to get the FanLitters in the Ben and Tara mood. I call the guy Ben and the gal Tara.
Alice
A Zip Line in Belize
Yes, yes, more Belize. Honest, I will get it all out of my system someday. Maybe. Meanwhile check this out.
We went on a zip line. A zip line is a cable run through the jungle canopy that you ride with the help of a couple of pulleys, a harness, and some thick gloves. Oh, and a couple of hunky tour guides.
This one was at a resort close to Banana Bank. I don’t remember the name of the resort, but they had cave tubing and other fun stuff too which we didn’t get around to. We might have if I hadn’t been sunburned and/or my mother hobbled by surgery, but this was probably enough adventure for us.
We walked up the path depicted above, then walked some more, and some more. The entire ride is manual from start to finish. At least parts of the path were interesting. Check out the designs in the walkway.
Once at the top the guides attached our pulleys to the cable and away we go! My dd needed a little encouragement.
You’re weight carries you from platform to platform.
You use your hands, covered in thick leather gloves, as brakes by grabbing on to the cable. I was pretty good at it. I didn’t brake too much and end up in the middle of the cable between platforms, nor did I crash into the tour guide waiting on the next platform except for once.
It’s a fast ride between one platform and the next. Here’s the only shot I managed to get from mid-cable:
This was a dinky little line. The highest point was only 80 feet up and there were only 6 platforms. We repelled down to the ground from the last platform. The whole thing, even considering how slowly my mother and I were moving going up the trail, was only about an hour long. I hear there’s one over in Bolivia that has 18 platforms. Hmmm…..
Alice
