The ground had steepened again, but now, at last, safe, flat land at the edge of the forest was just visible in the darkness. It was difficult to say how close it was though, and the comforting dead bracken had given way to sharp, shiny conglomerate approaching the vertical. Bottom sliding here did not appear to be advisable. I contoured round right and left, looking for a way down, but the crags seemed to be continuous. There must be a way! To the left was a wide easy gully leading down to the forest but there was no way into it. I'd have to go back up, up the little rushy streamlet I'd slid down, which had been fine until it became vertical and rocky and where one finger had suddenly received the full weight of my body when I slipped faster than intended. At the base of this gully was a mast with a solar panel and a small platform. By clambering up the mast I managed to get some way up the gully, but then I couldn't make it past the vertical section. I was stuck!
With the aid of a sharp knife I cut a pile of dead bracken and laid it on the platform. I had a half-inch long torch. By flashing it on to the solar panel instead of towards civilisation, I thought to make its impact larger. Six flashes and six blasts on the whistle, rest, repeat, rest, repeat... In the rests I howled like a wolf. The howls reverberated round the surrounding hills and across the lonely forest to the twinkling lights where people sat warm and dry indoors, having their suppers by cosy fires. So near and yet so far... Suddenly - oh, joy - I saw a moving torch beam in the forest beneath me. Could there really be someone down there at 10pm on a cloudy, damp night in late October? The beam - oh, rapture - was coming towards me, but then it disappeared. My feet were wet and cold, my broken finger shouting for attention. There could be no more walkers tonight.
Twenty minutes passed and then again a light, and much nearer now. There were voices down there at the edge of the forest, and the yapping of a dog. Someone was shouting. Then a high, clear voice. It sounded like Romany's. Could it be? I'd left her sitting in the car.
'Stay where you are'.
Good, that's what I wanted to do! After more incomprehensible shouting back and forth I suddenly became aware of a man approaching from above.
'Are you the mountain rescue?'
'No, I work in the forest. Romany came and knocked on my door.'
'Can we get down there?'
I asked foolishly, pointing down the precipice, and a little tearful by now.
'Aye, we can, but we'd both be deid.'
He was great, this Jim, dragged from his TV, still in his indoor shoes. He led me down an invisible crack containing the cable to the mast, joking all the time, straight to the wide gully and to the safe flat ground which had seemed so unattainable for a long two hours.
'Sh! Now don't say anything'
he said as we neared Romany.
'Romany' he called, raising his voice,
'Ursula's absolutely furious with you for driving the car without insurance!'
Furious indeed! I was so thrilled to be on safe ground I could have kissed them all, and the dog as well.
For those who are guessing, this happened on a 400m Marilyn only three miles from a small town.
