Jawbone Ridge

Jawbone Ridge is not just a geological curiosity; it’s a sanctum for the modern pilgrim - the Instagram enthusiast, the amateur photographer in search of the perfect picture. This platform, nature’s glorious plinth, juts out of the Clynock Fells like the jaw of some ancient beast frozen mid-roar. It offers more than just a panoramic vista of the Palmaray River as it journeys through the Clynocks. Jawbone offers a brush with the sublime, a moment where one teeters on the edge of infinity, 1000 feet above the Palmaray’s embrace.

Yet, Jawbone’s beauty is not without its bite. For all its Instagram-worthy glory, it serves as a reminder of the perilous balance between the desire to conquer and to coexist. To stand upon it is to stand at the intersection of awe and fear, where the earth reaches up to touch the sky. Thrill-seekers, in their quest for the perfect shot, flirt with the precipice of eternity as the Palmaray River flows on - indifferent and eternal, a silent witness to the fleeting footprints of those who dare to walk the edge of nature’s plinth, a thousand feet above.

Kofi Amoah was twelve years old when his Uncle Yaw gave him a copy of National Geographic. He had picked it up from Kotoka International Airport after returning to Ghana from a month-long business trip in Cape Town. What Uncle Yaw actually did for a living, Kofi didn’t know, but whatever it was, his mother didn’t approve of it. 

“Your Uncle Yaw is going to dig himself a hole so big,” Akosua Amoah bitterly remarked, “that even God won’t be able to lift him out of it.” 

Kofi knew better than to ask his mother what kind of holes Uncle Yaw was digging. He took the copy of National Geographic to his room and spent the next three hours reading it from cover to cover repeatedly. It was in this particular edition that he found an article and breathtaking photography of a landscape wonder in Scotland, specifically in the Highlands of Scotland. That landscape wonder was Jawbone Ridge, and from the moment Kofi saw it, he became enchanted by the ancient outcrop. 

“One day I’m going to climb you,” Kofi traced his fingers over the picture of Jawbone Ridge. “Feel the cold air upon my face and feel like an angel of the heavens.” 

That one day came fifteen years later. 

A few years ago, Uncle Yaw did just as his sister Akosua had warned years before: he dug himself a hole that even God couldn’t help him out of. Uncle Yaw was found dead in the bathtub of a hotel room with a single bullet wound to the forehead. The killer was never found, and the motive was never made clear. That’s the swift and decisive conclusion that the Accra police department came to. Nobody questioned the police’s attitude or decision-making. Not even Kofi’s mother. Deep down, Akosua Amoah was content that her brother could no longer dig himself holes. The hole he now found himself in was an eternal resting place in God’s arms.

Dawn broke quietly over the Clynock Fells, the day’s first light painting a delicate transition from warm peach to a cool blue sky. The Clynocks emerged as dark silhouettes, their ancient contours etched against the awakening sky. Below, the landscape was shrouded in the soft darkness of early morning, with hints of the Palmaray River catching the emergent light, heralding the start of a new day.

Kofi wanted to reach the summit of Jawbone Ridge just as the sun was rising. He felt it was the perfect time of day to witness Jawbone Ridge and the Clynocks in all their majestic glory. It would also make for a great photo opportunity. His thirty thousand Instagram followers and WordPress blog subscribers would likely appreciate it too. Over the last few years, his ‘Travels with Kofi’ had gained a lot of traction, and his followers and subscribers knew that this particular adventure to Jawbone Ridge was the pinnacle of Kofi’s traveling bucket list.

Kofi had considered climbing the ridge as dusk was setting in, but he read a few stories where a couple of hikers had died on the descent. They either got lost in the near darkness or stumbled over loose rocks and ended up falling from over seven hundred feet to their deaths. Kofi very much liked being alive, and there were still places in the world that he needed to take photos of and blog about for ‘Travels with Kofi’.

The climb from the base of Jawbone Ridge to its pinnacle took around an hour and thirty minutes for the experienced mountain climber, and over two and a half hours for the not-so-experienced and more conservative and sensible person. The first part of the journey upwards was on easy terrain with flat, level paths and solid ground. The second part of the journey was the polar opposite. This is when you had to have your wits about you. One careless misstep or lack of concentration and you were either tumbling back down the way you came or over the edge into the Palmaray River.

Kofi was an experienced mountaineer. Climbing mountains was second nature to him. He respected those ancient, sleeping beasts he ascended. As he saw it, if he looked after them, they would look after him. So far, that partnership was going well. In addition to being an experienced mountain climber, Kofi was also a keen camper. So, rather than stay in a B&B in the village of Greenburgh, which was just a mile from the base of Jawbone Ridge, Kofi camped at the base of the ridge to get an early start, beat the crowds, and take the photos from atop Jawbone Ridge that he had been dreaming of for the last fifteen years.

“Wɔwɔ soro no, me nsa nka me de: ‘Asase, wo kyɛreɛ ni so adeɛ pɛ na wo bɔɔfoɔ nso ni,’” Kofi said, hands on his hips, panting slightly, as he was in awe at the panoramic sight of the Clynocks and the Palmaray River from atop Jawbone Ridge. He was twenty feet away from the edge. With the early gentle morning wind in his face, he indeed felt like an angel. He genuinely felt as if he was floating 1000 feet above the Palmaray River. He closed his eyes and raised his hands up, just like the Christ the Redeemer statue in Rio de Janeiro.

Kofi felt alive. He felt invincible. After a few moments of personal reflection, he opened his eyes and let his arms drop. He smiled once more at the scenery that greeted his eyes. He still couldn’t believe he was standing atop Jawbone Ridge after all these years. It was now time to take photographs for his Instagram followers…

“What did you just say?” a woman spoke behind Kofi.

“Ebin!” Kofi screeched as he spun around to face the woman.

“What does that mean?” The woman was clad in a soft, chunky cardigan that draped over her slender frame. Her eyes were clear, striking blue, and wisps of her light, tousled hair escaped the confines of the knitted beanie that framed her fair, slender face. The corners of her lips tilted ever so slightly in secret amusement.

“It means ‘shit’,” Kofi explained. “I apologise for swearing. You took me by surprise.”

“No worries,” the woman shrugged. “Your accent is funny. Where are you from?”

“Accra.”

“Never heard of it.”

“Ghana.”

“I’ve heard of that,” the woman said. “I’m Izzy, by the way.” Izzy warmly held out her hand.

“Kofi.”

“Well, Kofi. What was that little Ghanaian spiel you said before you stretched out your hands like you were Jesus?”

“I didn’t realise anyone was here,” Kofi said. “I thought I was alone.”

“There’s no need to feel embarrassed, Kofi,” Izzy shrugged. “You seemed spiritually awakened by the Ridge.”

“Yes, I’ve been wanting to come here for a very long time.”

“I’ve never understood the fuss about the Ridge, if I’m honest. It’s just a piece of rock that’s fucking high. Pardon my French,” Izzy winked.

Kofi was shocked not by Izzy swearing but by how little she appreciated Jawbone Ridge. “Do you live around here?”

“For my sins, I do. I’ve lived in Greenburgh all my life. So did my parents. And my grandparents. And their parents and so on. It’s as if those born here are never meant to leave,” Izzy laughed, almost manically. “You still haven’t said what those Ghanian words you spoke were.”

“From atop this mountain, my heart speaks: ‘Earth, your beauty is unparalleled, and your creators are truly divine,’” Kofi said softly.

“Very profound,” Izzy teased. “If I wasn’t emotionally devoid, I’d cry.” Izzy moved beside Kofi and looked out towards the Clynocks before her eyes were drawn downwards at the Palmaray River. “You beat the crowds to get some good photos. That’s a wise move.”

“I haven’t taken any photos yet. I was just about to do so.”

“Would you like me to take some for you with the all-so-wonderful Clynocks and the Palmaray River in the background?” Izzy teased.

“If you don’t mind. Just a few, please.” Kofi brightened at the thought of himself fully in the photograph. That would surely get more Likes and Comments on ‘Travels with Kofi.’ He handed Izzy his phone and stepped away from her. He beamed with joy as he waited for Izzy to take his shots.

“You’re not afraid of heights?” Izzy said. “I know it’s not windy today, but still. We’re 1000 feet up in the air, and you’re treating it like you’re ten feet off the ground.”

“I don’t scare easily,” Kofi joked. “I grew up in Accra.”

Izzy smiled as if she understood what Kofi was saying. She raised Kofi’s phone and was about to take the first photo. “If you just take one step back. That’s it. Not too many steps. Don’t want you falling.”

“That would be a disaster,” Kofi said.

“Ummm, quite.” Izzy didn’t take the photo. She looked at Kofi quizzically. “You’ve got some legs on you. Is that an African thing? You know, you lot are good at running and stuff.”

Kofi knew what Izzy had just said was pretty racist but he was more confused by why she had said it. “I don’t understand.”

“You. Walked. Up. Here. Very. Quickly. I’ve. Never. Seen. Anyone. March. Up. Here. So. Quick. Before,” Izzy said slowly.

“You…you followed me?”

Izzy nodded that she had. “Nice tent too.”

Kofi’s eyes were drawn to his hiking pack and camping equipment that were huddled up in a pile next to Izzy. “You’ve been spying on me?”

“You make it sound dirty,” Izzy grinned. “But when I saw you walking through Greenburgh, my interest was piqued. I’ve never seen a man as black as you before. You’re very black, aren’t you?”

“There’s plenty like me in Ghana,” Kofi bit back. “I’m not a rarity, Miss Izzy.”

“Miss Izzy, I like that. You’re well-spoken for an African.”

“We are not animals. We are civilized.” Kofi held out his hand. “May I have my phone, please.”

Izzy took a pace forward as her hand fell limp by her side. “There’s something I’ve been wondering since I clapped eyes on you, Mr. Kofi.”

Kofi said nothing. He watched as his phone hung loose in Izzy’s hand. His worst fear was that she would drop it on the hard ground and smash it. Out of spite more than anything.

“Cat got your tongue?” Kofi still said nothing. “Ah, your precious phone.” Izzy then manically waved Kofi’s pride and joy. Kofi panicked and lurched towards her but soon stopped as Izzy took a step back. “Calm one’s horses, Mr. Kofi.”

“What do you want?” Kofi asked calmly.

“I told you there was something I’d been wondering since I clapped eyes on you,” Izzy explained. “Would you like to know what it is?”

“Yes, I would,” Kofi said respectfully. He just wanted his phone back.

Izzy smiled. It was a smile full of menace and hatred. “I saw you, and I thought…I wonder what that black man would sound like as he fell 1000 feet to his death from the Ridge into the Palmaray River. Would he sound like a white man? Or a white woman?”

“Not a white child?” Kofi asked softly.

“I’m not a monster, Mr. Kofi,” Izzy snarled. “I do have some standards. Not many. But a few.”

“You plan to kill me?” Kofi almost laughed. He was starting to think he was imagining this whole scenario.

“I do,” Izzy confirmed. “Don’t take it personally. It’s just a science experiment, and unfortunately, you’re the blackest man I’ve ever seen.”

“How many people have you thrown off Jawbone Ridge?” Kofi mocked. He didn’t believe a word Izzy was saying. She was just playing a game. A weird game.

“Not enough to satisfy my scientific experiment,” Izzy said completely deadpan. Then, with a flick of her wrist, she tossed Kofi’s pride and joy off Jawbone Ridge.

“No!” Kofi bellowed as he watched his phone become a speck in the distance. “Why? Why did you do that?!”

“Have you not been listening to a word I’ve been saying?” Izzy said, perplexed.

“You’re a she-devil! You’re mad!”

“Stop it, you’re making me blush.” Izzy joked. “Now, back to my science experiment.” From the inside of her coat, she pulled out a gun. But after a few moments, Kofi saw it wasn’t a real gun, but a NERF Gun.

“You’re going to shoot me with a child’s toy,” Kofi said. “You are mad.”

“There’s a method to my madness, Mr. Kofi. I want it to look like a suicide.”

“Suicide…” Kofi was then repeatedly pelted in the eyes, face, and chest by the blue foam and orange-tipped darts of the NERF Gun. He soon became disoriented, he moved forward, then backward, then backward again, then forward, then sideways, then backward, then sideways…and then he was falling…cold air rushed past him, he screamed, and screamed, and flailed…his voice gradually became weaker, he then thought about his mother, and then of his Uncle Yaw who dug holes that eventually God couldn’t pull him out of…

“Umm, he sounded very similar to the others,” Izzy said as she casually threw Kofi’s hiking pack and camping equipment off Jawbone Ridge. “I think I’ll need to find myself another test subject to definitely compare my findings.” When she was 400 feet from the base of Jawbone Ridge, she met a couple of hikers. “Good morning,” she said. “It’s a wonderful day for a hike.”

“Early bird catches the worm,” one hiker said.

“Not as early as you though,” the second hiker said to Izzy.

The second hiker was a dark-skinned man. Not as dark as Kofi though. He wouldn’t be suitable for her experiment. “Enjoy your walk. And be careful of the loose stones at the top of the ridge. I once knew a man called Kofi who fell to his death not so long ago,” With that, Izzy left the bewildered hikers be and, although they couldn’t see it, she was smiling as if she was the happiest person in the whole wide world.