If you haven’t done so, you can read Bridget Jones does the Tongariro Part 1 here.
7.45am – Embarking on the devil’s staircase/slippery slope of death
Am about to climb a right-angle complete with treacherous ice. It is clearly designed to slaughter the clumsy members of the human race (ie. me). Think I might die as I am not wearing crumpets (or whatever they’re called) on my shoes and I have no walking sticks.
Have managed to do a pretty nifty video of me walking though. Always good to have artsy videos for Instagram. Am the next Bear Grills, after all.
Was just tottering along with my camera making very astute David Attenborough-esque commentary, imagining my glittering future career as journalist and film maker, when I stumbled on an icy rock. Fell flat on my arse.
I swear I heard my frozen fat crack.
The only blessing is that there is no one around to witness such a mortifying occurrence.
My arse hurts. I wonder if it is appropriate to have a fag whilst trekking? After all, it would be medicinal (to distract me from the pain).
Have lit medicinal cigarette and resumed walking. I decided that given the circumstances and the lack of judgmental human company, having one small ciggie to keep me going with this journey is perfectly justifiable.