Taken from the chapter titles 'The Devils Pulpit'
“Hey do you guys want to save a lot of climbing?” Jeff queried. “Look over there… looks like a bridge or something.”
“You know that would really save our legs. Lets go take a look at it. What do you think Kim?” I said.
“Hey I’m all for that,” Kim replied.
So off we went. It was around a half kilometer away through some pretty rough topography. We had to make our own path through the brush, but it was a lot better that the long trek down to the rushing river, then spanning it and climbing our way back up the other side. When we got to the trestle there were signs warning us to not trespass, but the temptation was overwhelming. There were workers from the train company doing some repairs near the beginning of the traverse. We asked them if they knew that there would be a train coming soon. This darn thing was narrow. It was only wide enough for the tracks and about a foot on each side… and that was it! There would be nowhere to go except down.
“No no. Don’t worry. Won’t no train be on dis trak today. Go head don’ worry,” A couple of them chanted.
Wow this was great. No possibility of trains and a great shortcut to boot. We commenced going across the bridge. Life is good. Then the ground disappeared from under the tracks. We had to leap from railroad tie to railroad tie for the whole length of the chasm. If we misjudged, it looked like a person could probably fall through between the ties. Kim and I were not the greatest with unsafe heights and were drawing from our full concentration trying to keep our composure. The void was probably about 20 stories deep with a hastily speeding river at its base, to help amplify the phobic dilemma.
“Oh my god… Oh crap… Oh… Oh boy… Oh boy.” Every vault to each rung was an adventure. Our hearts were racing. Our adrenalin flowing. Suddenly, Kim and I heard what seemed to be a train whistle when we were half way across…
Author of Friday on the Trail
A book about our backpacking adventures in Ontario Canada