Hovering Over Sydney Harbor

Bridge Climb:  When I was in Sydney five years ago, I came home with one regret: not having climbed the Sydney Harbour Bridge. Today is the 4th of July, my country’s birthday. To celebrate, I decided that a ‘bridge climb’ was called for. Millions do it every year (in business since 1998), and so could I. Late this morning I showed up at the arch where they are located (one of the ‘caverns’ under the bridge approach), and by 12:20 I was ushered through Gate 2 into the prep area. We got our lockers and took everything off our wrists and out of our pockets (including our cameras). Then, we got our climbing gear. First was our one-piece body suit that fit over our clothes. Then: security belt, radio earphones, handkerchief (with a wrist band), bagged poncho and fleece attached to our backside. Yes, they think of everything. I could have opted for a beanie and gloves, but I was feeling ‘manly’ from being at the beach yesterday. I really didn’t want the rain gear or fleece, but they made me take it. I never used it. I would survive the heights, the climb, the wind, the temperature drop, and everything else on my own. I would rise above the city skyline, above the opera house, above Circular Quay where yesterday’s ferry left from. I would float like a cloud above the harbor and conquer the city, at least visually. I was ready for this fourth of July first. When I was done, I would be in league with the celebrities who have done this climb: Oprah most recently. The Bridge Climb folks love to brag about and show pictures of all of them.

We had a group of nine (from Jakarta, London, Melbourne) and a guide named Steve, who seemed to really love this job. A sense of humor is always appreciated: he had one and so did our chef from Melbourne. It was a lively group, and because I was without a partner, they put me at the head of the line. And, lead on to the top I did (really, I was behind Steve). Over 1500 steps (Steve can tell you the exact number) until we returned. It got serious when we tethered ourselves to the cable that would keep us from falling off the bridge or being blown away by wind gusts. Then came the ladders: steep they were, with narrow steps that required sideways steps. A long stretch above the bridge approach followed. Then came the upper arch of the bridge itself. That’s when Steve stopped us periodically to talk about the landscape below and to take some pictures. I think he was also managing the psychology of the climb. I found myself charging ahead, making my goal getting to the top with alacrity (dictionary time?), but when we were required to stop, I paused and drank in my surroundings. I watched the clouds passing over head; I even felt a drop of liquid sunshine. But then, the sun would break through, the opera house would stand out in its full glory, and the ferries would course like sunbeams across the placid harbor. Clouds and blue skies: they doubled the pleasure. Two different skies provided two different views of an urban tapestry that reminded me so much of Hampton Roads harbor (large, leggy, protected from the ocean). In fact, both are drowned coastlines, what geographers would call ria coasts.


At the summit, more pictures of us, this time with the flags. It was Australia’s week to celebrate the cultures of the Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Peoples, so the Aboriginal flag of Australia was flying on the western side of the bridge summit. The national flag occupied the eastern side, closet to the rising sun. Below was a six lane highway, with two tram lines on the east and two rail lines on the west. Then, on the outer flanks were pedestrian and bicycle paths. That is remarkable only when you think that this bridge was completed in the 1930s, well before the automobile turned our cities into autocracies. Building a six-lane motorway was extremely foresighted, and its construction continued into the Depression years when being a riveter on the bridge was one of the best jobs you could have and one that required a bridge climb every day! When the bridge was completed in 1932, it opened up the North Shore to development and reduced the number of ferries sailing from Circular Quay.

It was all downhill after that. If this trip were a novel (How does 'Eighty Days Around the World' sound for a title?), this would be the climax. And with my descent, the denouement would begin. The entire climb took about 3-1/2 hours. All in all, it was a grand holiday, and of fireworks I was reminded. As January 1, 2000, was celebrated time zone by time zone around the world, I remember the spectacular pyrotechnics broadcast from Sydney. They were set off from this same bridge, as they continue to be every January 26, Australia Day. And there were fireworks again this very evening as I watched Tron in the hostel’s very own theatre.

Geographically yours,

D.J.Z.