a l i v e & a w a k e

Have you ever been so scared that all the hairs on the back of your neck stood to attention? Have you ever been so stupid that you almost didn't make it? If not, then disregard this story - you won't be able to relate.

My brother and I were travelling to Barrie to visit one of his friends. Upon arrival we decided to go out and do something that is common growing up in Bancroft - hiking. I know it sounds a bit tame, but it actually is enjoyable and usually something interesting happens. Well this night, it would be a bit unusually exciting.

Chrissy (not her real name) told us of a place just north on highway 11 where we could find a place to hike. We drove to a parking lot near an occasionally used train tracks. And because the night was well moonlit, we began to walk along the tracks. To be honest, it wasn't too interesting... until we reached a old bridge spanning a deep valley (probably about 10 storeys in height). The moon was full and bright, so we could see everything around us: the forests below, the thin sliver of a creek and the 2 silver lines of track. The bridge was about half a kilometer across the valley with no handrails (obviously) and nothing between the wooden tiles (which made stepping more of a challenge).

We soon were on our way across. Reassured that trains didn't come on Wednesdays, we took our time, talking lightly while enjoying the scenery. About half way we came to a rickety platform that may have been a maintenance station. What was left was little more a couple of railings and parts of the floor. Not safe at all. We continued.

Then, as we were minding our own business, there was a small red light that suddenly lit up on the other side of the bridge. Instantly we turned to Chrissy for answers. She shrugged, puzzled that the light usually meant that trains didn't come this time of the week. "There are no trains Wednesday."

Then it suddenly dawned on us. It was Thursday, and this was the 8 O'Clock train, right on time. In one of the most obvious and shortest conversations I've ever had I said, "Let's go." We turned around and started back in a kind of staggered, robotic run (trying to make sure we didn't miss any of the tiles). We got as far as the old platform.

At thsi point my brother had this brilliant idea of getting onto the platform while the train went by. Chrissy, who was more familiar with walking on these tracks, kept right on going making it to the other side safely. I wasn't so sure of myself heading back (I had visions of repeating a Stand-By-Me scene), and not to look like the fool, I stayed. To this day, I'm still not really sure why, since I hate heights and am supposed to be this responsible first born child. But there I was, lying face down on the platform, looking through the broken floor boards at the ground way below with my white-knuckled fingers clutching a rotting piece of wood. And there was Joe with a big toothy grin reassuring me that this was going to be awesome.

When the train hit the other side of the bridge, there was sickening motion, like being tossed on a small vessel on stormy waters. The whole structure swayed from side to side (and I mean the bridge!), and I could do everything just to hang on and not wet myself. But the most terrifying moments happened when the train actually passed by us. You have to understand that, at any point, we could have reached out and touched the train; we were that close. I could just picture some metal bar sticking out of the train passing through us like a knife through butter. But despite our close proximity, it was just the incredible noise of the wheels roaring in our ears and the violent jerking and swaying that posed any threat. It was so loud in fact that both of us were yelling at the top of lungs and we couldn't hear ourselves.

After an eternity (about 5 minutes) the train passed and headed off towards Barrie Central (I guess). Chrissy was waiting for us at the other side. I think I lied and said that it was indeed awesome. Actually I was ready to sacrifice a small innocent animal in thankfulness to God for sparing my life.

Moral to the story? Not sure. I'm sure anyone with an once of responsibility could come up with something, and maybe they can post me a comment. All I know, is that if there is a quota of stupid/exciting things you can do in your life and still be considered respectable (and not totally insane!), then I believe I have met it.

Jon