NO WAY I'M GOING TO MAKE THAT CLIMB

I thought that a few years back when we went to Cornwall, England, and came across Mount St. Michael. We parked at the base of the hill and the huge abbey facing us was intimidating. We made it though to the top, and it was well worth it.

Recently in Africa, we encountered some sand dunes in Zimbabwe. We were there to eat at a Boma in the great African desert. A barbecue, tents, a Charlie Brown Christmas tree with lights, African drummers and dancers, and sand dunes surrounding us. Dunes are formed by the wind and mist from the nearby ocean that commingled together to form the dunes. Golden in Zimbabwe, some we saw near Durban were red from iron deposits. Some were pyramidal, at least one that some climbed, sheltered by the bigger ones.

Having climbed the bridge at Sydney, Australia, our daughter, I knew would want to climb the biggest dune. I also knew she would talk me into making the ascent, too.

"I'll start out, but I don't know how high I'll go," I warned. Some of the climb was quite easy. Some very difficult. All sorts of other guests were making the same climb at the same time prior to dinner in the dunes. Some took off their shoes; they seemed to move faster. Others, like us, just dug in.

After a few stops for breathing, we made it to the top of the 3oo foot dune. And what was up there? More dunes to look down on, but none were taller.

Descending was easier. I didn't even hear the voice of my chiropractor asking what I thought I was doing. I heard Dr. Charles' voice a lot on the way up. Also the voice of my wife. Something about how I know no moderation.

We got some good pictures. But you may ask why we did it. Because it was there, of course.