In Arouca Geopark near Porto, my sons dared each other to tackle white-water rafting and a scary, record-breaking bridge
‘Three, two, one, and … jump!” yelled Rafael, our rafting guide. Into the air my youngest son leapt, not a moment’s hesitation, arms akimbo, legs kicking vainly against emptiness. Below him swirled the freezing, frothing waters of the Paiva River.
My emotions raced between swelling pride and sudden fear as I watched him disappear into the spume. Pride that he had followed his older brother off the edge of the five-metre-high boulder without a squeak. Fear that I now had no option but to do the same.
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