Line of Balance

I marched west from base camp until the stone embankment of Trencom’s municipal canal rose ahead. Spanned between two cast-iron bollards above the dark water, a thick, weathered hemp mooring rope hung taut like an open suspension bridge. That was the trial I charted this morning. Scaling the first iron post, I set the soles of my boots onto the prickly fibers. The breeze tried to torque the line, but I dropped into a disciplined crouch, absorbing every sway through my core. One measured stride after another, I crossed the full span without a slip, sticking a clean landing onto the timber lock plank. Sector crossed; balance proven.