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Another boy did fairly quickly, with the sequence of time between jumps coming longer and longer for the less and less willing, until there were just five kids left, with all those in the water yelling for them to jump. But they didn't move. I was at some distance but I could feel the fear, embarrassment and humiliation all the way across to where I was watching. There were more boys than girls and some of these girls were just as game as the boys. The group of refuseniks were three girls and two boys. It was a difficult spectacle to watch. The first leader swam back and climbed the cliff back to the top. Then the others followed one by one and they all jumped again. Still the stupefied five would not go or even move from their seated position, back from the edge about forty feet.
I found this drama extremely interesting even if it was heart-wrenching. I had to wonder, would I go off. A day or two earlier I had jumped from the cliff below my site here into the lake - a distance of about ten feet and it hurt my feet. The secret was sandals. A couple of guys came around later, early twenties, highly upbeat, and said they were camped to the south some-place. I noticed they were wearing sandals with a toe and ankle strap secured with Velcro. I could not understand how they could negotiate this rough terrain with sandals. They convinced me of the wonders of this type of footwear, the light weight and coolness, the grip and dexterity which they demonstrated, and they said they were great for jumping into the lake. So that was the secret. That gang had all been wearing sandals.
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