It started off pretty easy; just a quiet stroll in the sun

To see the view round the corner of Jakobshorn, mountain of fun.

The path was wide and sloped gently; a challenging hike it was not.

It led towards Sertig Dorfli which didn’t excite us a lot.

So after five or ten minutes, we suddenly came to a halt

And made a “sehr schlecht” decision I’m glad to say wasn’t my fault.

Dad said, “Look up at that path; it slopes down far more than we guessed.

I don’t want to climb back up there.  I couldn’t, without a long rest.”

“Yes and don’t you think,” replied Helen, “to return the same way is boring?”

And my complete disagreement they both seemed bent on ignoring.

So we scrambled down a steep track to a manky dead grassy patch

And I began muttering words I hoped they weren’t able to catch.

As we trampled our way through this field, “Where the hell’s the path gone?” asked Dad.

But we continued to battle on bravely on account of us all being mad.

According to Dad’s navigation, there should be a path on our right.

We scanned the mountain like crazy but sadly it wasn’t in sight.

By this time we weren’t very happy, though too proud to admit to defeat.

Retracing our steps up the mountain would be showing the Germans we’re beat.

Below us lay cowsheds and ski lifts, above us the mountains towered high.

Between us and Mom lay a scree slope, so, “Up here”, said Dad with a sigh.

We struggled up ten or so metres, the slope was increasingly sheer.

As the ground started moving beneath us, my heart started pounding with fear.

The others were climbing above me, causing rocks to slide, slip and shake.

Every single stone seemed unstable, and I visibly started to quake.

Horrific visions of landslides and dry avalanches flashed through my head.

“Three Britons killed in Swiss tragedy”, the BBC newsreader said.

I crouched and clung to a safe rock.  I was having a panic attack.

My breathing became fast and shallow.  I yelled to Dad to come back.

“Climb up here, it’s flatter”, said Helen.  But move an inch I would not.

“To the side it’s quite easy,” said Dad.  But I rigidly froze to the spot.

Eventually Dad seemed to notice I was totally out of my mind,

So he pulled me down from in front, and Helen pushed hard from behind.

Once down, the usual happened; inevitably just a few feet away

From the treacherous path where we’d suffered, a lovely safe easy path lay.

Amidst much cursing and swearing, we followed it back up to base.

Although the earth seemed quite stable, I glared at each rock just in case.

We returned rather angry and sunburned.  Relieved and exhausted as well.

“Did you have a nice walk?” enquired Mom.  “No,” I replied, “it was hell!”

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