Climbing the Coathanger

The Sydney Harbour Bridge officially opened on 19 March 1932. The event drew large crowds and despite the economic depression there were decorated floats, marching bands, a gun salute, a procession of passenger ships under the new bridge, a fly past and fireworks. After the pageant the public was allowed to walk across the deck - an event not repeated until the Bridge’s 50th anniversary in 1982. Some enthusiastic onlookers celebrated by unofficially climbing up the bridge arch - and an idea was hatched for later commercialization. In 1998 the Sydney Harbour Bridge – or “the Coathanger” as it is referred to locally – became host to a popular tourist attraction – “Bridgeclimb”.

Our own bridgeclimb experience was scheduled for 19 December 2000 at 10:05 a.m. That morning we had gone for a walk through the Botanical Gardens and from Mrs. Macquarrie’s Chair looked back at the Bridge and Opera House. A lone fisherman was trying his luck in the early morning waters. It looked as though it might thunder and we were a little concerned because the climb does not operate in electrical storms. The ominous clouds passed and it was soon time to get to Bridgeclimb’s operation on Cumberland Street.

Run like a friendly military operation, the orientation begins with an educational video on what you can and cannot do on the bridge. Moving to the next room our group of 12 for the 10:05 a.m. climb went through a breathalyzer test and signed waivers. On to the next area where we met our fellow climbers and received our climb jumpsuit.

The purpose of the jumpsuit is two-fold. Having taken most of our clothes off, the suit provided the right amount of protection with its loops and catches to ensure that even sunglasses are attached to the suit – nothing must fall into the harbour. The second reason for this drab grey suit is that climbers blend into the bridge as they travel the bridge arch. This apparently was one of the conditions of operation and intended to minimize distraction to the motorists below.

Kitted out in our jumpsuits we then practiced how to use the safety harnesses properly. At all times we would be attached to the bridge. The next lesson was how to climb a vertical ladder without banging one’s knees on the steps and learning how to keep the safety harness moving along the steel cable to which it was attached – sometimes it needed coaxing as you turn a corner.

Finally, we were fitted with two-way radios and paraded in a line down the street to the bridge span entrance – passers-by barely gave us a second glance even though we looked like convicts. As we climbed the stairs to the catwalk, we waited for a returning group. They looked tired but exhilarated.

The first obstacle - the catwalk - was probably the worst part of the experience because it bounced menacingly as we crossed and of course you could see right through it. Our group leader stopped several times on the catwalk to point out various landmarks. One of the more interesting anecdotes was that during the bridge construction hundreds of empty rum bottles were found buried below the bridge catwalk. That’s how labourers in the early colonial days were paid and rum was considered as valuable as hard currency.

Next challenge was the ladder climb, which we could only undertake one at a time, waiting until the last person reached the platform above to the next ladder. Additional staff stood at the platforms to offer encouragement and help anyone who needed it. Finally we reached the main span and started the climb in earnest. There are approximately 1500 steps and it’s much like climbing up the train track of a big dipper.

The Olympic Stadium at Homebush Bay was clearly visible as well as other Sydney landmarks like the Opera House, Circular Quay, Darling Harbour and Kirribilli Point where Admiralty House and Kirribilli House are situated – homes of the Governor General and Prime Minister respectively.

Our group leader took pictures of us at various points of the climb – a significant marketing opportunity since climbers were forbidden to bring their own camera, or anything else for that matter. Reaching the center point of the main arch on the west side of the bridge, we crossed over to the arch on the east side and began the descent.

This time the array of ladders at the bottom took us between the train tracks. As Doug and I descended a train sped by, and the blast of air from it made us feel very mortal indeed.

After the climb Doug told me that when he was a little boy he had always wanted to go on the Big Dipper at Southport Pleasure Beach. His Mum and Dad finally agreed to take him one summer. Doug sat next to his Mum with his Dad in the seat behind. As the carriage started its climb, Doug stood up and announced that he wanted to get off. Mum and Dad were faced with the task of holding Doug down for the rest of the ride.

Apparently this childhood memory had emerged in Doug’s mind as he edged his way across the open grilled catwalk sixty feet above the ground, towards the pylon and the main arch. But he added that it was only a fleeting thought as we climbed up through the pylon, stopping to admire the granite-faced blocks used in its construction, each one hand crafted and numbered, fitting perfectly together like pieces in a giant jigsaw.

What better than Climbing the Coathanger for Christmas!