The next morning, after a painfully slow group start, we started our hike.
After we were warned many times that we might die and we would be walking the last miles in pitch black and could get lost and die horrible deaths and oh yes, we might die, a group of 10 intrepid hikers loped out in front of the pack, and just kept going.
...And the day was gorgeous. A few of us ended up walking in t-shirts most of the day. In December. In England.
Wait....why have we stopped? No reason! Carry on.
The mood of the group had improved vastly. No more stopping, no more snailing, no more shouting. I was elated. It was perfect.
And this section of trail was even better- more dramatic than yesterday's walk, with a few more vertiginous moments and lovely sandy stretches and beautiful rock sculptures.
The water at times looked tropical.
We were much, much happier.
The whole time, no one took headcount. We spread out a bit, but no one lagged at all. No one shouted.
The beach, the sun setting, a sun shower and a triple rainbow over the beachside lake made for the most perfect of moments.
It was pure magic, and it was all I could do to keep myself from buying a house right then and there. Sure, the commute is a little hairy, but look at that sunset.
Made it! Did not die! Did not get lost! Came back in the dusk, not the dark. Defied the odds. Someone ought to make a movie out of this.
We earned our pints.