Royal Gorge Bridge

Listen to the wood under your feet. Each step lands on a plank, and between some planks you can catch thin slivers of air. Below that air, much farther down than seems possible, a green ribbon of water runs between walls of pink and grey granite. The wind moves through the cables with a low hum. You are standing on the Royal Gorge Bridge, in Fremont County, Colorado, and the river is roughly 950 feet, or almost three hundred metres, below you.

That height is the first thing to understand about this place. For most of the twentieth century, this was the highest bridge in the world. It held that title from its completion in 1929 until the early 2000s, when new bridges in the mountains of southern China rose higher. Today it is still counted among the highest suspension bridges anywhere, and it remains the highest in the United States. Not bad for a bridge that was never built to carry traffic anywhere important.

Here is the first surprise. This bridge does not really connect two towns. It was built as an attraction, a reason for travellers to come and look. In the late 1920s, a promoter from Texas named Lon Piper backed the project. The idea was simple and a little bold. Build a crossing so high and so dramatic that people would drive for hours just to stand on it. Nearly a century later, you are proof that the idea worked.

The construction itself moved fast. Crews finished the bridge in roughly six months, without a single worker killed, according to the park's own account. Think about what that meant in the 1920s. There were no helicopters to fly cables across. Workers strung the first lines over the gap and built outward from each rim. The main cables were spun on site, wire by wire, then anchored deep into the rock on both sides. Look toward either end and you can see where that weight goes into the ground.

The deck under you is made of wooden planks laid across a steel frame. Over the decades, the planks have been replaced many times as weather wears them down. That is part of the charm. The bridge feels handmade in a way modern concrete spans do not. As you walk, notice the slight movement. A suspension bridge is designed to flex a little with wind and weight. That gentle give is not a fault... it is the structure doing exactly what it should.

Now look down at the gorge itself. The walls are made of very old granite and related rock, among the oldest stone you can see exposed in this part of the Rockies. The Arkansas River cut this canyon slowly, over an enormous span of time, as the land around it rose. The result is a narrow slot with nearly vertical sides. In some places the walls seem to lean toward each other. On a sunny day, the rock glows warm and rosy near the rim and turns darker and cooler toward the water.

If you watch the bottom of the canyon long enough, you may see a train. Railroad tracks run along the river through the gorge. This brings us to the second surprise. In the late 1870s, two rival railroad companies fought over the right to lay track through this narrow canyon. There was only room for one line. The struggle became known as the Royal Gorge War. It involved armed crews, hastily built stone forts, and a long battle in the courts. Eventually a settlement was reached, and the Denver and Rio Grande railroad won the route.

The engineers who followed faced a real puzzle. At one point the canyon is so tight that there was no ledge for the track at all. Their answer was the Hanging Bridge, a section of track suspended from steel girders that are braced against the canyon walls. The train literally rides above the river on a frame hung between the rock faces. Today, a scenic tourist railroad still uses this route, so the canyon is seen from below as well as from above.

The gorge has also seen hard times. In June 2013, a wildfire swept through the park. It destroyed most of the buildings on the rims, including visitor facilities and many structures that had stood for decades. The bridge itself survived, though some of its planks were scorched. In the burned forest around you, you may still notice signs of that fire. The park was rebuilt and reopened in 2014, with new buildings designed to sit more lightly on the landscape.

With the rebuilding came new ways to experience the canyon. An aerial gondola now carries visitors across the gorge in enclosed cabins. There are zip lines, a play area for children, and thrill rides that swing people out over the drop. Some visitors come mainly for these. Others prefer to walk the bridge slowly, stopping every few steps to look over the rail. Both approaches are fine. The canyon does not change whichever way you choose to see it.

Take a moment to look along the length of the bridge. Flags line the span, and they snap and ripple in the wind. On a breezy afternoon, the sound of fabric and cable together is constant. Then look straight down through the gaps at the river. Many people find their stomach tightens the first time they do this. That feeling is old and very human. It is the same reaction that drew the first crowds here almost a hundred years ago.

The bridge and the land around it are owned by Cañon City, the town a short drive to the east. That ownership matters. Revenue from the park has long supported the community, and the bridge is a point of local pride. People who grew up nearby often remember their first crossing as children. Ask a local, and you may hear a story about a grandparent who walked these planks in the years when the bridge was still the highest in the world.

As you finish your walk, pause near the middle of the span. Feel the slight sway one more time. Listen for the river, which you can sometimes hear faintly if the wind drops. Look at the rock walls and notice how the shadows move as the sun shifts. Then, as you walk back toward solid ground, glance once more over the rail. The river is still down there, still cutting, still patient... long after the planks under your feet have been replaced again.