Description

The scramble that followed remained painfully vivid for a long time afterwards. The heather was a dense, tough growth, almost waist deep; underneath, the ground was all rocks, loose stones, little channels, small hummocks. The general angle was at least 45 degrees. I stumbled over ground I could only feel; the roots constantly caught at my feet, the whip-like branches held me, catapulted me forward, tore at my clothing, my knees, the dipped front wheel, which was plucked down with further disasters to my aching shoulders. Sometimes I flopped down involuntarily