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Click hereToday Holbeck burn is a mecca for hikers and ramblers and I dutifully pulled on my walking boots and headed off along the track that led in the direction of Slit Wood. It was a track I had trod many times, though I had not set foot upon it for over a quarter of a century. In those days it was the private playground of teenagers and the primary source of sex education for the village. Perhaps, I thought, when darkness fell and the last of the fell walkers had returned to their comfortable homes in their executive cars, that maybe it still was.
The August sun had baked the earth hard and going was easy and yet I approached the gate that marked the entrance to Holbeck with trepidation. In the fall children would bring rods and nets and fail catch the wild salmon that launched themselves from the turbulent flood waters and, though I'd never seen a single fish succeed in scaling the lower falls, each year the salmon returned to spawn and die and begin the cycle again. In the winter we'd toboggan down steep slopes, crashing and breaking in the deep snow that drifted in the valley floor before we tumbled into the icy river. We'd sit in shivering silence at dusk to watch the deer that would come down from the fells to escape the harsh northern winds and we'd tell each other how lucky we were to live in such a magical place. In the spring orchids bloomed without fear and in the summer we'd swim naked in the deep river pools.
I smiled as I passed the falls, too late for orchids and too early for salmon, but the river roared its welcome like an old friend recognising me after so many years. In reply I ritualistically picked up a rock and tossed it into the black waters, but the 'plonk' was swallowed up by the thunderous cascade. My mind wandered as I walked, they were the best of days and the worst and it was a place of firsts, and lasts. I met my first 'real' boyfriend here and it was here that he broke my heart and it was the last time I spoke to him. I smiled ironically to myself, recalling how I found him with my best friend because she wasn't afraid to 'touch his thing'. I laughed out loud at my naivety and the woods and high cliffs hidden within laughed back at me.
The ruins of the lead mine were exactly as I remembered, but then, they hadn't changed in a hundred years, not since the last bucket of galena was brought up from its depths. Six hundred and five feet straight down I'd been told. The deepest shaft in England at the time, now capped with an ugly and baron slab of concrete. I followed the river, balancing carefully on the dry stone wall that kept the water from flooding into the small meadow. It had been while sitting on this wall, dangling my feet in the icy river, that Karl Johns had kissed me and I had kissed him back. It had been my first real kiss, my first sexual encounter of any kind. This clearing was our sexual laboratory; where girls learned about boys and boys discovered girls; it was where our mothers met our fathers as their parents had met before them; but times change. It was here that a boy first touched my breasts, where I first swam naked. It was here that I first stayed out all night and was grounded for a week and it was here that I first discovered my true self. I recalled with amusement, the games of truth and dare we played, boys and girls sitting around a fire toasting marshmallows and pushing our boundaries. It was during those games that I first tasted a man's cock and where I first kissed a girl. Ah, Helen McCaffrey, how sweet your cherry ripe lips tasted and how the sun caught your golden hair as you tossed your head. Only a short distance upstream the river opened into a wide deep pool, something to do with the mine workings, but I only knew how fresh and clear the water ran, how it made my skin tingle even on the warmest of days. Once it rang out with joy and laughter, but now the silence was broken by the song of a single chaffinch.
I stood watching my reflection, in the rippling pool and slowly and inexorably I began to undress. I could hear my friends calling and cheering as I stripped, casting clothing away with abandon. At last I stood naked on the river bank and closed my eyes to feel the sun burning my skin.
A hand slipped into mine and I looked around to see you standing at my side. My heart danced like the dragon flies that darted this way and that as they skimmed the surface of the water and your touch made the stars in my eyes shine ever brighter.
"What are you doing you asked?" Your voice was soft and sweet, with laughter hidden in your words that brought a smile to my face.
"Swimming?" I replied.
"Alone?" You began dropping your clothes on top of mine and when you were naked I allowed myself to feast on your perfection. I marvelled how, after so many years since our first kiss on this very spot, the sight of you still made my legs week. You tossed your head and caught the sun in your long golden locks. And I remembered the secret we kept.
You took my hand and we screamed together and leaped into the chill mountain stream.