The frigid air stung my face as I ascended higher and higher up the snowy peak in the lift, swirling my hair about in the icy breeze despite the fact that it was August. Normally, this was the ski hub, but I had come for another reason. Not just the raw beauty or unique hikes but to cross a beast. A silver beast, more specifically in the form of a suspension bridge.

A chill ran down my spine, and goosebumps prickled my arms. I should have brought a winter coat. But who brings a winter coat on their summer holiday? It was stuffed somewhere in the back of my closet while I was here, five thousand feet above sea level and ascending another two thousand feet. It looked like the top of the world from up here. Everything was so pristine and untouched as if it had looked like this from time immemorial. Amethyst fire flowers fluttered among sprigs of grass peaking out from the cliff’s edge beside a narrow brook. Looking up, I saw it. The grey suspension bridge dangled in the air like a loose appendage. I shuddered.

“Why am I doing this?” I wondered aloud. I should have stayed on level ground where it’s safe – where there’s no possible chance of me plummeting to my death. I came alone, so how would my parents or friends even know? I had asked one of my good friends to come with me, but she was stuck on ‘graves’ at the mill, unable to escape. I couldn’t shake the feeling that I didn’t know what I had gotten myself into and now it was too late to turn back.

The lift attendant directed me to stick my legs straight out as I approached the landing platform. I let out a shaky breath as he helped me off. “I must be crazy to try this,” I muttered

Photo: Rebekah Schulte

“The metallic dragon shuddered in the breeze and moved with every step that other explorers took on it, convulsing, waiting to swallow me into the seven thousand foot deep canyon.”

to myself. What was I doing it for? Bragging rights? The funny part is that I’ve never actually told anyone until now.

The metallic dragon shuddered in the breeze and moved with every step that other explorers took on it as if it were convulsing, waiting to swallow me into the seven thousand foot deep canyon. Yup, I certainly must have lost my marbles on the way up here. I ascended the narrow winding pathway toward it.

"You have fifteen minutes," the lift attendant hollered behind me. I nodded and waved. Taking a shaky breath, I approached the transparent bellied beast. The people returning seemed totally undeterred by its violent swaying. I gulped and stepped on, gripping both sides for dear life. “Don’t look down! Don’t look down!” I mumbled to myself. Any time it moved even a fraction by another crosser, I could barely swallow my shriek. It's not that I'm afraid of heights. I'm afraid of falling. Rationally, I know that this bridge is extremely stable and has upheld the weight of thousands of tourists much heavier than myself, but that doesn't change the fact that my insides are disintegrating into mush. I hold my breath without realizing it, waiting for the last person to disembark. They do, and I clutch the bridge until it stops pulsating.

“Okay, okay, I can do this,” I whispered. I affixed my eyes ahead of me on the watchman posted on the other side. Clutching the staggering railing, I inch forward, trying not to hyperventilate.

“Lord, please help me cross,” I prayed. I imagined that it was Him on the other side instead of the park employee. I felt such peace fill me while still battling and colliding with a heap of nerves. With every step forward, I recited Psalm 91 aloud: “He who dwells in the Presence of the Most High will stay in the shadow of the Almighty...He will command His angels concerning thee, so thou shall not strike thy foot against a stone.” The fears I had of these being the last steps I would take vanished and were replaced with an inner calm. I raced ahead to the other side, darting toward the park watchman before finally collapsing on the distant platform. “Oh my gosh! I made it. I arrived.” The watchman was clearly just a regular human being who seemed totally unimpressed by this miraculous feat.

I had barely regained the ability to inhale and feel my limbs again when the watchman said as stoic as an army commander, “The lift back down is closing in two minutes.”

“Seriously?! I just got here!” I huffed, a little exasperated.

I scurried to my feet, re-approached the wobbling inverted arch and proceeded to hustle to the other side, fixating on the landing platform. “I can do this! Almost there...” I coached myself. Before I knew it, I arrived on the other side within a few moments. Catching my breath for only a moment, I jolted towards the lift platform. The lift attendants stood around chatting about their weekend plans, completely unaware that I had just faced one of my biggest fears.

“Can I go down?” I asked.

The girl nodded. “Yeah, no worries, mate.”

I really need to work on time management. If I had arrived sooner, I could have at least taken my time at a leisurely pace, but no, I had to crunch it like I was aiming for the Olympics or something.

The process reversed as I descended the mountain. A glacier visibly cracked on the peaks in the distance, about a thousand feet above a sparkling turquoise lake. I clutched my bag to my chest with one arm and the freezing wobbly metal bar meant to secure me in the lift chair with the other hand. My feet dangled aimlessly above the serrated cliffs. I guess I can brag that I’ve done it now, and I don’t have to return here again. Not that it was mandatory to begin with — except why bother coming here except to do something adventurous? Not exactly a relaxing vacation. I’m more of a beach girl. Two feet firmly planted on level ground. That’s me.

I would like to be able to say that I was wondrously transformed after this experience, that now any physical high point I could cross without batting an eye – perhaps even giggling before approaching the edge, but that is not me, nor is that what happened. I still don’t like heights, and the thought of falling is somewhat discombobulating. I can see why people come here though. This is the most pristine landscape I’ve ever experienced. I snapped several pictures. I feel like I’m floating as I gradually descend the mountain in the lift. I had finally reached a place of acceptance. Perhaps crossing over wasn't so much about a physical location but accepting the fact that in spite of facing the fear of falling, I still preferred to remain on solid ground and obtain suntans on sandy beaches while sipping mocktails.

Photo: Rebekah Schulte