Our second day in Creel, we pay a local driver to drop us off about 45 minutes out of town to a canyon where the walk down leads to some hot springs. He leaves us in the deserted carpark and we cross our fingers, hoping he will return as promised at 5p to pick us up.

We start down the Canyon on our hike, accompanied only by a dog that seems to have adopted us or more accurately is rightly worried about two gringo chicas who clearly have no hiking experience. With no-one else on the steep rock paved path that winds down the canyon, Lassie (yes, that’s the name we gave her), earns her name by constantly stopping and waiting for us. We soon spot a dead snake on the path and memorial crosses for previous visitors, presumably in an ATV or other vehicle, who plunged off the edge. As we descend further, periodic thunder echoes through the Canyon. Given my fear of heights, I hug the cliff side while Jamille takes the side with the drop. Places where the path narrows have me concentrating too closely on just putting one foot in front of another to joke about Lassie needing to find help if we fall off. Whoever said you should confront your fears is clueless – it doesn’t matter how many times I do heights, I still quietly hyperventilate. The views, when I make myself look up, are spectacular though.

At the bottom, the only other human being at the hot springs is the caretaker. We spend a couple of happy hours soaking in the water. When it’s time to leave, it naturally finally starts drizzling and we are soaked through by the time we finish the long, hard slog back up the (did I mention steep before?) canyon trail. Lassies looks after us again. Thunder cracks more often as we ascend and is accompanied by lightning this time. Rivulets of water run down the path saturating our shoes. A quick strip off of wet clothes at the top and a snickers bar while we wait for the driver feels like heaven.