Fear(less)

Stepping out on to the platform, a rush of brisk air hit me like a ton of bricks. I was actually going to do this. I was going to climb the Sydney Harbour Bridge. Earlier in the day, whilst on the train, a sudden fear of heights hit me. As the carriage rumbled along the tracks that spanned the bridge, I looked up to see what I’d be up against. I was daunted; the maze of metal looked menacing. Heights were not something I had been fearful of before, but then again, I’d never climbed 400ft tall bridge either. So now, here I was, jumpsuit on, Carabiner fastened to the guide rail, ready to conquer the steel monster that had intimidated me mere hours earlier. The first 15 minutes or so were tame; a mixture of stairs and platforms made for easy climbing. Then, we hit the arches of the bridge. It wasn’t overly steep, but it was just stairs. Suddenly, heights were the least of my worries. Anyone that knows me knows that stairs and I don’t mix. I once tripped up a flight of stairs and ended up dislocating my kneecap, so a seemingly endless run of stairs unsettled me, to say the least. Lucky for me however, the climbing guide was more than happy for us to take our time. In fact, he encouraged it; we would stop intermittently to take group photos, documenting our climb. Before I knew it, we were at the highest point of the bridge. I had chosen the night climb (a good choice if midday heat isn’t your thing, or if, like me, you love the skyline of a city at night), which meant that when we reached the top, the city lights were well and truly alive. By this time, my newly discovered fear of heights had quelled (perhaps due to my stair induced anxiety), and I was able to fully take in the view. The Sydney Opera House was abuzz with a concert taking place on its steps, and was illuminated in a swirl of rainbow light. As we continued along the bridge and crossed over to the other side, Luna Park came into view, with it’s famous smiling face bathed in the lights of the park. The view was like nothing I have ever experienced before, and is probably something I’ll never experience again; boats scattered the harbour, and the skyscrapers of the city stood tall amongst the darkness. The descent down the bridge was bittersweet. On the one hand, I was glad to have had the experience, but on the other, I was sad it was over. Walking back to my hotel later that night, I looked down at the photograph in my hand. There I was, at the top of the bridge, fearless and free.