Tall Story

Next, everyone gets a slate grey BridgeSuit, complete with a three-and-a-half-hour guarantee that Mister Right will walk right past you up there. You are asked to remove anything that could fall on the traffic below and result in a million dollar lawsuit. In my case, even the earrings must go. No cameras are allowed, of course. At the summit—and en route to it—Keanu will play digital photographer. One metal detector later, the thrill of a new high has almost been quashed by the fatigue of proper procedure.

Since they’re paranoid about safety, there’s 10 minutes of simulation with the harness that stays attached to a static line on the bridge through the duration of the climb.

Finally, we’re good to go. We pass through a dark entrance, duck and squeeze through some girders as we follow the narrow catwalks to the pylon. Through the pylon and out on the catwalk above the deep blue water, all the while sliding the harness along the static wire that runs on the right side. Most of our group is friends or family treating each other on birthdays and anniversaries. At $160 to $225 a climb, the experience is usually reserved for a treat.

There’s a surreal moment before you climb the ladders to the eastern arch of the Bridge where you suddenly pop out amidst Sydney’s eight-lane weekend traffic. It’s just the spot to stay ever so still and watch the world whiz by (an average 160,000 vehicles hurtle through here every day). But you have to release the pause button and begin the uphill trek with the wind barrelling against you as you head for the 360° view at the summit, 134 metres above the harbour.

The idea to link the northern and southern shores of Sydney Harbour took 1,400 men, eight years, and £4.2 million to execute. It was a job that soaked up six million hand-driven rivets and 53,000 tonnes of steel. Eight hundred families were relocated and their homes demolished (without compensation). Sixteen people lost their lives while constructing it.

All the information is courtesy Keanu, whose voice travels smoothly through the headsets provided—I just slip them off when I need a break. But there’s no mind space to chew on the weight of those numbers when an Australian Sunday is stretched out below you. Yachts weave in and around more yachts as bikinis soak in the ground-level warmth (by this point, most of us are wearing the navy sweatshirts attached to our backs and sniffling on the handkerchiefs attached to bands on our wrists). There’s the curve of Bondi beach in the distance, the city’s highest structure before the Bridge (now both are dwarfed by glassy high-rises), glimpses of bushland, the whole banquet of sights.

We rest our aching thighs up there. Keanu says he used to be in the hospitality business before he decided he wanted some adventure. All this job requires is people skills and a three-month training programme.

Then it’s time to cross over to the western side and head back down—it’s more of the same, just in reverse. Quite a day, but I can’t help thinking that someone needs to bottle the thrill of desi window cleaning.