Now I’m stood on the edge of a bridge ready to jump off, with a crowd of onlookers ready to fair me well on my short journey down to the ground. I fully accept that chucking yourself off the edge of a bridge isn’t always a bright idea, not unless you have ropes to abseil and rappel yourself down.
In my head, I feel as smooth as James Bond, I can hear the music I as abseil down but in reality, the closest I look is like the Milk Tray man who ate all the chocolates. A 48 year old fatman perilously dangling over a bridge trying to recapture his youth that’s plunged faster than the safety line I’m attached to.
Meanwhile I’m wondering if this rope can can handle the stress and strain of my body, nevermind my ego. So, being a gentleman, I let my slighter younger and significantly lighter sister go first. Hopefully not too quickly if the rope suddenly breaks. Being a bloke, I’m not always that clever at picking things up but I’m pretty sure I’d take any blood curdling scream as a warning sign that something wasn’t quite right. I don’t hear one, so assume it’s safe to go. Then again, I wasn’t wearing my hearing aid.
Our bridge abseil in the Peak District was our second activity of the day. Earlier on, we went gorge walking and both activities were completed with Malc from https://www.truthandtrustadventure.co.uk.