75 Year Old Coathanger
As structures go, i never much noticed the Sydney Harbour Bridge until i found myself climbing it illegally in mid 2000. In the following two years i climbed it a total of 16 times. Then they put seccers on it and we couldnt climb it illegally anymore.
Noone gives a fuck anymore so ill admit, we used to climb to the top of the lower arch internally, taking a good 45 minutes to slog out way up inside the Daleks Intestines of the superstructure, contorting thru 46 bulkheads and finally popping out from a narrow hinged hatch.
The trip from there to the top arch was precarious and scary, and on three occasions i boycotted it as the folding ladder wasnt erected.
Our antics up there would be considered highly illegal, as we had no safety gear and were carrying camera equipment and torches, not to mention full pockets, all of which go against the likes of Bridgeclimb's 'Nothing Droppable' policy.
But we never dropped anything, neither was anyone hurt and it was a very satisfying 'Fuck You' to both the RTA and Bridgeclimb that we enabled nearly 100 ppl to see the coathanger without either paying $140 (Bridgeclimb) or indeed $2200 (the fine if you get caught).
These days the bridge is like a fortress. You'd have more luck finding Osama Bin Laden down your local storm drain than you would at successfully climbing the bridge without permission.
But it was doing so that gave me a connection to the structure, which today will feel the love and admiration of over 100'000 ppl as they celebrate its 75th anniversary by taking a variety of mass walks across it.
My admiration for it comes from being right up against it, crawling across its rivet laden skin; seeing 'Clyde and Forth Steel' stamped onto its internal metal structures and feeling a sense of irony that sections of it were forged by companies from Glasgow and Edinburgh; its an admiration that is a privelidge to hold, and iam excessively grateful to have gotten to know the bridge so well, to have been lucky enough to cross it unguided, with only the ambience of the city and the cloudy skies for illumination; to have felt the gentle rumble of a train pass thru it and not be attached to a static line, wearing a badly fitting, pocketless Bridgeclimb jumpsuit.
So to the Coathanger: May those rivets i bruised my knees upon hold you strong for another 75 years!
Through the viewfinder.
Lower Arch.
Posse
Upper Arch
Inside.
From Peir 2/3
Noone gives a fuck anymore so ill admit, we used to climb to the top of the lower arch internally, taking a good 45 minutes to slog out way up inside the Daleks Intestines of the superstructure, contorting thru 46 bulkheads and finally popping out from a narrow hinged hatch.
The trip from there to the top arch was precarious and scary, and on three occasions i boycotted it as the folding ladder wasnt erected.
Our antics up there would be considered highly illegal, as we had no safety gear and were carrying camera equipment and torches, not to mention full pockets, all of which go against the likes of Bridgeclimb's 'Nothing Droppable' policy.
But we never dropped anything, neither was anyone hurt and it was a very satisfying 'Fuck You' to both the RTA and Bridgeclimb that we enabled nearly 100 ppl to see the coathanger without either paying $140 (Bridgeclimb) or indeed $2200 (the fine if you get caught).
These days the bridge is like a fortress. You'd have more luck finding Osama Bin Laden down your local storm drain than you would at successfully climbing the bridge without permission.
But it was doing so that gave me a connection to the structure, which today will feel the love and admiration of over 100'000 ppl as they celebrate its 75th anniversary by taking a variety of mass walks across it.
My admiration for it comes from being right up against it, crawling across its rivet laden skin; seeing 'Clyde and Forth Steel' stamped onto its internal metal structures and feeling a sense of irony that sections of it were forged by companies from Glasgow and Edinburgh; its an admiration that is a privelidge to hold, and iam excessively grateful to have gotten to know the bridge so well, to have been lucky enough to cross it unguided, with only the ambience of the city and the cloudy skies for illumination; to have felt the gentle rumble of a train pass thru it and not be attached to a static line, wearing a badly fitting, pocketless Bridgeclimb jumpsuit.
So to the Coathanger: May those rivets i bruised my knees upon hold you strong for another 75 years!
Through the viewfinder.
Lower Arch.
Posse
Upper Arch
Inside.
From Peir 2/3
