Descent into the Lower Trench

The vertical drop from the cedar table demanded direct action. I took the freed jute twine, knotted the coarse hemp around a split wood knot at the plank's edge, and threw the cord into the abyss. Boots locked against the rough timber beam. Muscle took the strain. Hand over hand, I descended the weathered post into the shaded dirt below. My heels hit packed loam with a dull, solid thud. The high plateau is behind me. The lower trench is claimed.