Keeping it real (and in budget!) our accommodation is a backpackers but Stilts is no common or garden establishment - we are living in a treehouse! (see www.stiltsdianibeach.com)
Life in a canopy is simply marvellous. Sykes monkeys defiantly glare from their eye-level branch, patiently waiting for us to vacate our veranda so that they can move in on the off chance we've carelessly left any food outside. The pesky blighters made off with our treasured hoard of Jacobs coffee which apparently wasn't to their taste as they scattered it everywhere. Flipping waste!
It may be (probably is!) my imagination but the air above the trees seems richer in oxygen and the rippling birdsong clearer. Every evening we are visited by a bushbaby which lands on the thatched roof with a heavy thump then crawls down the rafters to pause a while on the veranda railing. Sweet thing.
Of course, paradise usually has a snake and the novelty and excitement of living amongst the treetops is tempered by my fear of heights. On a scale of 1 - 10 in terms of fear factor, a solid 9.9. We may only be 3 metres up but add my 1.73m to the top of a ladder and the forward pull when I have to go down is sickening.
Back in our early days, HO thought my wading streams rather than stride over the wee bridges rather quaint, until we had to cross a disused railway bridge one fine day.
He strode manfully ahead, wheeling his bike then turned to see where I was. Precisely midway and frozen like Lot's wife. Trying to negotiate a wider than usual gap where sleepers had fallen through, I'd looked down into the lazy waters of the Magalies River 20m below and turned to stone in a nanosecond. Chuckles, coercion and impatience became real concern as HO began to realise that this was much more than a personality quirk. Sheer terror fixed me some 50m from either bank and nothing he offered was going to budge this woman. No, I wasn't going to hold his hand and absolutely NOT was he going to carry me across - that would take my feet off solid ground AND raise me even higher! I squeakily suggested a helicopter (ok, I was panicking!) but eventually, cutting a long halt short, the ignominious sight of his beloved clutching a rusty railway line to her chest and slithering across the bridge on her belly proved to him for eternity that taking my feet off solid ground was not a good idea!
So, back to Diani and great excitement about a treehouse that I clearly didn't think through very well. Up I clambered, chattering like a Sykes but, what goes up must come down and this is what I faced:
Probably nothing to you and it's pretty unimpressive in the photos but in real life, this was like standing right at the top of the Eiffel Tower with gravity's claws wrapped around my neck pulling me frantically forward.
It's painful how slowly I mooch down every morning, with a white-knuckle death grip in real danger of crushing the handrails. The planning that goes into ensuring I ascend and descend as few times as possible is laughable!
Still, it's not all bad and we've extended our stay twice, not wanting to leave this treasure of a spot. Vertigo has stood down from Defcon 1 to Defcon 2 and while I'll never be happy at the top of those stairs, I'm sure reaching the bottom rung a little faster now!
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