By Dave Goulder
Poised on the gunnel using the tide swell till the first foot fastens to basalt and we are on our way. Rain constant as we proceed with each stride an adventure as boots slip then grip the broken steps. Hands seek a dripping rail – an occasional feature foreign to the island, bolted to the black columns that tower to the thick thatch of the rock’s summit. We negotiate a light waterfall, more descending water augmenting the drenching rain while just below the waves break and spill, lapping our boots with. . .