Welcome said he with a wink and walked on
Not stopping
Nor once looking back they march
Silent but for the snap of twig
And you trot on behind
Fending branches deliberately flicked
Barely keeping their heels in sight

You enter a clearing where they have stopped
Not knowing where you are
So you sit and catch your breath
Less knowing who they are

With a cough their hats come off
Followed by shirts, by boots and socks, by shorts and …
Within seconds their rucksacks are replaced on bare backs
And as one they turn
Bare bum and barefoot
They fan out, determinedly enveloped by virgin bush

You sit there open-mouthed with one lace threatening to come undone
What will you do?
Who do you follow?
Will you be back next week?