It was after 1 am when we finally got out of the apartment and into the car, headed towards Veterans Bridge, downtown Chattanooga. We counted 8 police cars at the gas station next to Coolidge Park, approximately 500 yards from the bridge.
We had heard that it would be a $10,000 fine to be caught up on the catwalk underneath Veteran's Bridge. This number was confirmed in a conversation I had with a Chattanooga firefighter. We almost gave up on the idea, but after Josh and I did some recon, we decided there was almost no way we could get caught.
A ladder clings on one of the large supports on the Coolidge park side that reaches tantalizes from 20 feet above the ground. We threw a rope over the bottom rung and, one by one, climbed hand-over-hand up to the ladder.
Once on the catwalk, we walked across to where the bridge goes over the island, so that when we jumped off, we would be hidden behind the trees.
I think its time to mention that I am terrified of heights. My brother can tell horror stories of me climbing up a cliff about 15 feet and then freezing there for hours, unable to climb higher or trust the rope to rappel down. Honestly I was terrified just being on the catwalk, because I could see straight down 90 feet to the water through the metal grating we were walking on.
The catwalk is between two I-beams twenty feet apart, and the catwalk is held up by metal supports that run underneath the walk between the beams. Josh set up an anchor on one of the supports and ran his rope through carabiners. Then he hooked the rope to his harness and walked back away from the anchor 30 feet or so on the catwalk to the next support. Then he stepped over the railing protecting the catwalk and jumped off. There was slack in the rope, so he fell about 20 feet before he pendulum-ed out underneath the anchor.
3 or 4 others jumped before it was my turn. I had committed to do it, but with each jump as it came closer to my turn, I became more and more nervous. I was trembling with fear when they were finally hooking up my gear, clipping the rope to my harness and pointing back over my shoulder toward the jumping spot. My head was swimming, and I guess, so we're my bowels. After I was all hooked up, and they explained how I was going to use the ascenders to come back up, I realized that I needed to shit, NOW. I told them so. There was no way I would be able to get off the bridge. There was no toilet paper, and no time. They unhooked the rope, and I leaned way out off the side of the catwalk, testing the strength of the flimsy rusted railing with all my weight. There were no lights. We were doing everything to the light of headlamps. Everything. The guys said later they regretted watching. Well duh.
"Reconnect the ropes, I'm ready!" Then I jumped. The way I had been talking about my fear of heights, the guys assumed there might be a long wait, but instead I jumped right away. It was a blast.
The guys jumped a few more times. A few even dove off head first. We didn't get back to the apartment until around 5:30 am, but the next day, instead of being tired, I was filled with the exhilaration of a major fear conquered.
We had heard that it would be a $10,000 fine to be caught up on the catwalk underneath Veteran's Bridge. This number was confirmed in a conversation I had with a Chattanooga firefighter. We almost gave up on the idea, but after Josh and I did some recon, we decided there was almost no way we could get caught.
A ladder clings on one of the large supports on the Coolidge park side that reaches tantalizes from 20 feet above the ground. We threw a rope over the bottom rung and, one by one, climbed hand-over-hand up to the ladder.
Once on the catwalk, we walked across to where the bridge goes over the island, so that when we jumped off, we would be hidden behind the trees.
The catwalk is between two I-beams twenty feet apart, and the catwalk is held up by metal supports that run underneath the walk between the beams. Josh set up an anchor on one of the supports and ran his rope through carabiners. Then he hooked the rope to his harness and walked back away from the anchor 30 feet or so on the catwalk to the next support. Then he stepped over the railing protecting the catwalk and jumped off. There was slack in the rope, so he fell about 20 feet before he pendulum-ed out underneath the anchor.
3 or 4 others jumped before it was my turn. I had committed to do it, but with each jump as it came closer to my turn, I became more and more nervous. I was trembling with fear when they were finally hooking up my gear, clipping the rope to my harness and pointing back over my shoulder toward the jumping spot. My head was swimming, and I guess, so we're my bowels. After I was all hooked up, and they explained how I was going to use the ascenders to come back up, I realized that I needed to shit, NOW. I told them so. There was no way I would be able to get off the bridge. There was no toilet paper, and no time. They unhooked the rope, and I leaned way out off the side of the catwalk, testing the strength of the flimsy rusted railing with all my weight. There were no lights. We were doing everything to the light of headlamps. Everything. The guys said later they regretted watching. Well duh.
"Reconnect the ropes, I'm ready!" Then I jumped. The way I had been talking about my fear of heights, the guys assumed there might be a long wait, but instead I jumped right away. It was a blast.
The guys jumped a few more times. A few even dove off head first. We didn't get back to the apartment until around 5:30 am, but the next day, instead of being tired, I was filled with the exhilaration of a major fear conquered.
I was so stressed reading this, and yet excited for you! cheering for you!
ReplyDeleteI agree with Emily. And boy oh boy the pooping part! ahahahahahaha.
ReplyDeleteGood job. Way to conquer it that night. It sounds like all you'll need for future adventures at altitude is toilet paper. Dang.
ReplyDeleteThis was awesome. Good thing you don't suffer from icantshitacrophobia. That would have been horrible.
ReplyDelete