Adventures of a Scribbler

Walking down a pitch black forest track with two people I’d only just met, guided by a solitary torchlight, I was having second thoughts about whether this it was such a good idea.
An hour after bonding with a South African and a Kiwi over a bowl of soup in a New Zealand hostel, I was on the hunt for a hidden glow worm cave under the cover of darkness.
For what seemed an eternity we made our way up a steep hillside track in single file, scrabbling on loose rocks and stopping every now and then to point the torch in the direction of possums and other nocturnal creatures rustling through the bushes.
The sound of gushing water reverberated around a valley of looming mountains, getting ominously louder from below our perilous incline. Above, a blanket of stars twinkled away with calm indifference.
Finally, we reached a clearing where the entrance to an old gold mining cave stood, about the width of a door frame, a stream of water flowing through its gaping bowels.
I was struck with claustrophobia, but Douglas, the South African, urged us to take off our shoes and socks. I didn’t want to be a spoiled sport.
We waded in, flinching in the icy water and pricking the soles of our feet on sharp stones, getting deeper and deeper into the tunnel.
Eventually it became too hard to walk barefooted, so with our shoes on we continued trundling through the water until we were absolutely drenched, unable to see a thing except the torchlight.
We followed the tunnel right out to the other end, two hundred metres from the entrance, but were disappointed to find only a bridge blocked from public access. Feeling dejected, we cut our losses and decided to head back.
Then Douglas decided, without warning, to turn off the torch and lead us back through the tunnel in complete darkness. Suddenly, a whole galaxy of glow-worms came gradually into view, effervescent speckles of light showered across the roof of the tunnel, only a matter of inches above our heads.
It was a breath-taking spectacle, and we swished our way gently back through the water, holding on to each others’ backpacks and gawping all around, absorbing the magic with our mouths ajar.
Then I cracked my head on a rock and we decided it was probably best if we turned the torch on after all.