It was then that the chopper dropped down out of the darkness on top of them. She heard the whump whump whump of the blades above her and to the rear and she raised her head, but she had to close her eyes and turn away because in that instant she was blinded by the white glare of a spotlight, and the end of a skid lighted by that glare that was swinging back and forth just above her head, forcing her to crouch down with her hands on Santiago’s shoulders. Under his clothes she felt his tense muscles, his back bowed over the wheel, and she saw his face illuminated in brief bursts from the spotlight swinging above them, all the bursts of spray that wet his face and hair.
Category: Travel Page 1 of 3
At first we blamed Franco – well you would wouldn’t you? Who else would punish an impoverished region by failing to complete a railway that would have opened up the interior to trade and commerce with the cities on the coast because of the strength of republican resistance during the civil war? This apparent act of omission seemed typically cynical and nasty as the railway was nearly ready to go – the track bed was complete, along with numerous tunnels, viaducts, station buildings, platforms and goods sheds. All it needed was rails, signalling infrastructure and of course engines, trucks, carriages and staff.
SPOILER ALERT!! This is the last episode of 4. The first episode was uploaded on 3rd December (below).
Oh dear oh dear! How much trouble can a chap get himself into?
I thought I had figuratively put my pencil away until the new year and was embarking on a pre-Christmas clean of the surfaces in the front room when I took a call from my agent. Well! …………….
When we left our intrepid travellers at the end of episode 1 they had just been waved past the crashed car of a chap who had seemed determined to run them out of town – or at least out of The Calanche! We must catch up with the van’s progress towards a safe place to snug down for the night………….
Sue woke first and nudged me ‘Do you think there’s someone outside with a torch knocking on the van?’
‘No’ I reply, determined to stay asleep.
But then I hear it too – a clear double knock followed by a voice ‘You can not stay ere …. you must go.’
We have to make a decision, the first of a number over the ensuing hour.
‘As remote as anywhere in Essex’ says the AA Illustrated Guide to Britain’s Coast in 1984. If it was true then it certainly still is I reckon as I walk along the top of the sea wall that’s offers resistance to the highest of tides in the Roach estuary. To my left are the salt marshes with the myriad of channels gradually drying with the receding water before giving way to the mudflats and then the thin channel of deep water. A few yachts sitting just outside the channel are pulling at their moorings as white horses stream past them. To my right is a wide band of tossing and writhing reeds running parallel to the wall and beyond that huge, empty fields with a few trees and hedgerows in the distance.