Gutterhinges

"While my machete skills are abysmal, I find my traveling companion to be quite adept at beating back the jungles around us, despite being at least 10 years my senior, as we travel along a path that only he sees, or knows by heart perhaps.

Another hour has gone on with no clearing yet in sight in this densely-forested jungle. I hear the calls of strange and probably unnamed birds and the waft of wings from bats woken by our disturbance. My stomach is telling me it must be nearing dinnertime.

Still no signs of any civilized clearing, but over a small hill and there it was right on top of us--Quatermaine's jungle cabin; surprisingly modern given our surroundings, with a rainwater collection barrel at one corner, glass panes which opened, and even a screen here and there to keep the beastly jungle parasites, who have seen to have taken a liking to my flesh for some reason, at bay. There was virtually no clearing however between the cabin and the nearest trees; I worried that some branch would end up smashing the place to bits."

"'Here's what I wanted to show you,' my host finally offered. 'I figured you drenched Londoners could use a bit of ingenuity.'"

"Quatermaine pulled a rope on a pulley in one corner, which seemed to slide a set of lynchpins, I'll call them, unlatching the front gutter and allowing it to tip forwards and dump its collection of leaves, twigs, and vermin onto the ground below."

"If you'd be so good as to tilt that end of the gutter back up, I'll do the same here and reset the pins. There, that job's done. I do hope to improve the reset method. Ladders for me anymore are a chore, especially after a day of trekking through the Northern Belgian Congo."