Tahoma Creek Suspension Bridge

Makeup Day 7: The Tahoma Creek suspension bridge often stops hikers in their tracks for a few minutes (sometimes longer) until they can come to grips with the fact that they're not going to get from Over Here to Over There without crossing it. It is one of two "build-your-own-bridge" kits in the Park, the other spanning Carbon River in the northwest corner. Both are substantial (pun intended) improvements on the former wood-and-wire contraptions, but nevertheless, I have seen a range of people from little old ladies to strong men go down on their knees to edge across either on more than one occasion. The braver individuals still tend to grip the wire handrails tightly, and set a nervous, hesitating pace which causes the structure to bounce more radically than it does when taken at a normal stride. I'm a veteran. I hold my trekking poles vertically in one hand so they won't catch a cable and run the other hand lightly along the top wire as I stride across. About mid-way, I do a catch-step to break the oscillation as it transfers to the descending portion of the planking. And then, if I happen to have a companion, I stand at the far end and offer words of encouragement, which is to say I berate them for being one of the world's biggest chickens, bruk-bruk-bruk.

These kit structures are so solidly built that they do not need to be let down on one side during the winter to ease the weight of snow build-up. Not so the old bridges! I remember coming upon this particular crossing in late October or early November one year with my sights set on Indian Henrys, only to find that the right-side cables had been relaxed and the planks were hanging at a 45-degree angle over the canyon. I was not in a mood to be denied the remainder of my hike, so by holding onto the cables still tautly strung and placing my feet carefully on the top ends of the planks, I worked my way across, the weight of my pack causing me to tip backwards even farther than the angle of the boards. I didn't know about Donkey then, or I'd have said, "I'm lookin' down, Shrek! I'm lookin' down!" Still, I did the deed (alone, mind you, with no one to tell me how foolish it was), and of course had to repeat the adventure on the return to the trailhead. Given this history, I hope my readers won't fault me for making fun of those who this newer, sturdy, substantial bridge intimidates. After all, I'm still here to tell the tale.