Entirely worth the ordeal.
Two days return via alternate route through Taroka Gorge up the Pacific Coast.
Scars, tales and lived to tell them.
Views like this almost everywhere.
About three seconds from now a bettlenut-chewin', whisby-sucking death jockey is going to try and kill me.
If I had not been leaning over on the inside of the road to take a pic...
If I had been driving...
And they are everywhere.
"I AM a crocodile. I AM a crocodile..."
Until the recent sale of my snooker table, prayer meetings were conducted regularly with His Holiness, Artlessly Bald Moron. Let there be wailing and gnashing of teeth; the wearing of sackcloth and ashes. Can locusts be far behind?