Today the dragonflies are golden-ringed dragonflies; pretty big fellas again. We leave the river, which seems even more sluggish today, and move into the trees away from the heat.
We slither up and down the steep, dusty little paths. The presence of flies builds up. I feel a sharp pain in my finger and look down to see a big fly settling in. Horsefly? Dunno.
I jump up and down shaking my hand, and at the same time I hear a harsh sound close to me. It's a large golden-ringed dragonfly passing directly over my head, his wings rattling in flight.
"Shall we take the main path back to the road?" say The Old Man.
"Yes." say I, wrapping my jumper sleeves around my hands for protection.