The thunderous roar of the raging river grew louder as we approached the swing bridge where we would cross over the valley below, the jungle was so dense beneath that I could not see the source of the deafening melody played by the turbulent waters.
Stepping onto the bridge I noted the mornings offering to the Gods to maintain the safety of the overpass, in parts the gaps were quite large, I wondered at the strength of the structure, which was maintained by the local village folk, all repairs carried out in a makeshift humble fashion.
Observing the thick foliage captivated me as I strolled across the bridge, it also prevented me from seeing the river at all, just a canopy in many shades of green, green I had not seen since leaving England, I was joyous as I drank in the vision encircling me, my soul stretching beyond the limits of the body to unite with the glorious life force emanating around me.
Walking above the tree tops was surreal, never would I have imagined that I would one day be here ambling along in rural Bali drinking in the bounty of her enchantment.
Turning to the sound of an approaching motorbike broke the spell momentarily, I stood silently watching its approach, pondering the simplicity of island life, of my own story, and of where I stood now.
Continuing along the path the nostalgic scent of England teased my nostrils, here thousands of miles away I was transported back to country lanes and chilly autumn strolls, there was something so familiar, suddenly I felt I was home again, like I truly belonged.
A feast of delicate beauty circled me, still I was encountering so many plants that I had never before seen, each one as marvellous as the last, each a work of magnificent splendour..........
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