Chapter 4: A Touch of TurbulenceAnika lets out a joyous whoop. “That’s it, you’re doing great.”
I’m still around sixty feet up and moving surprisingly smoothly until a gust of wind catches me, swinging me like a fish on a line. I stop abruptly, fingernails digging into the rope.
“There’s nothing to worry about,” yells my instructor. “I’ve swung down here in a gale.”
He probably has. He looks the type to see a storm coming in and immediately think, “Ooh, let’s go abseiling.”
Why did I agree to this? Abseiling was entirely Anika’s idea and she booked it without telling me, breaking the news yesterday as we walked beneath the viaduct in the pouring rain. I’d thought she was joking until she showed me the booking details on her phone. “It’s geared up for wheelchair users,” she’d said as sh
