Back in the 70s, we lived near Buffalo. I had a Canadian friend who used to get us all into a lot of trouble. I recall we smuggled fireworks and beer back from Canada one time. Stuff like that.
One such time found us in Fort Erie, Canada, right across the Niagra River from Buffalo, the Peace Bridge connecting the two countries there.
Just north of the Peace Bridge there’s a railroad bridge, crossing the teeming Niagra River several miles above the falls. That one summer day, I found myself in a parking lot just downstream from the bridge, drinking beers and probably smoking weed. I had no idea what was about to happen.
This isn’t a story of tragedy. No one was ever hurt. All the more reason to say, specifically to my kids, but also to yours, Kid’s don’t try stupid shit like this.
Now, I won’t draw things out, I’ve embellished enough.
Before I knew what we were doing, we found ourselves walking out into the railroad bridge, our Canadian guide assuring everyone he’d done it many times before. When we reached the appropriate spot, he started climbing, up above the track level, where we all stood watching him climb.
A good 20 feet over our heads, he suddenly stopped, yelled something I don’t remember, and threw himself off the girder, into the wind above the rushing current, his curly blonde locks trailing behind as he flew through the air.
He seemed to fall forever, and I remember him doing a flip about halfway down. I’m not sure if that really happened, or if it’s just an embellishment that grew into “truth”, as I retold this story over the years. What seemed like a couple minutes later, he hit the water and disappeared under the dark green rushing waters.
A couple of guys immediately jumped from the platform right after he hit the water, taking them slightly less time falling before disappearing beneath the dark waters.
They all came up eventually, after what seemed like a lifetime. They reappeared above water about half a football field downstream from where they hit, and started swimming hard towards the breakwall, and the ladder to safety. Miss that ladder, and who knows where you would be able to get out of the river, before being washed downstream towards Lake Ontario. Over the falls.
This is a story about peer pressure. There was no going back. Accept the fear. Then jump. They made it to safety. We all figured we could too. And we did. I swam harder than I’ve ever swam before or since, to make sure I caught that ladder.
I told myself it would be ok. Then I jumped. The fear was gone. So we’re the excuses. Just me against the river. Cliche I know. But those moments where you MUST succeed. Do or do not, there is no try. Those moments change you. Forever.
When I finally hit the water, I remember wondering, “How deep will I go?” as the momentum carried me deeper and deeper. For a second I wondered if I would make it back to the surface. I’m not the most buoyant person. The water was dark, green and cold, and I started swimming across the current, toward the ladder even before I eventually surfaced.
I swam so hard that I reached the wall way above the ladder, I had to tread water and wait to drift downstream to it. Some of us went for a second round, and a couple people tried the higher perch to jump from. I remember walking back onto the bridge, watching them jump, and then walking off the bridge again, to dodge a train coming through en route to Buffalo. I guess I didn’t want to tempt my fate twice.
I think about what would have been, if I had chickened out, and never made that leap of faith into that river. Maybe it gave me confidence later in life. Or perhaps it just made me more cautious. Either way, every big decision I’ve made since has probably been affected by this one moment.
I find myself reflecting about it, not to encourage myself to cheat death, but to remember to live. To be not afraid to leap into destiny, with enough faith in ourself to come out the other side better for the journey.
I’m pretty sure it’s also one of those moments that remind me not to be such a dumb fuck.
[Disclaimer: The Bridge is only 22 feet above the river, and the shipping channel is pretty deep so, perhaps my memory embellished the experience and potential dangers just a tiny bit).