A Bridge Too Far

We had been staying in the fortified city on the Croatian coast of Dubrovnik (claimed by our Kiwi friend, Stacey, to be named after a well regarded local, Brother Nicolas – The Brother Nic or “Du-brov-nik” in local dialect). This is where we finished our backpackers cruise of the coastal islands and made the most of the final days of our summer campaign. Lazy days enjoying sun and clear waters.

We took a day trip up to Mostar in southern Bosnia and Herzegovina on the Neretva river. It is most famous for Stari Most or the “Old Bridge.”

The bridge was originally built by the Ottomans in the 16^th century and still today the town has distinctly Muslim and Christian neighbourhoods. In 1993, after standing for 427 years, regional war and its artillery shells finally got the better of it. In a book store just near the bridge we watched a video of the war that focused on the destruction and restoration of the bridge in 2004. It resisted a good deal of punishment before collapsing into the river, many shells just bounced off it.

The local lads started throwing themselves off it no doubt as soon as the foreman turned his back over 400 years ago. The 21-25 metre freefall, depending seasonal fluctuations in river levels and who’s word you take, separated the men of the town from the boys. On the drive up our guide, Gabriel, explained the river is snow melt and given that Mostar is considered the hottest city in the country with summer temps regularly in the 40+ deg C range, the shock of sudden immersion at over 55km/h into the icy waters further adds to the risks. Wikipedia states “only the most skilled and best trained divers will attempt it”. Of course since its reconstruction that hasn’t stopped fool-hearty tourists from having a crack, including Oz TV’s Hamish and Andy.

Gabriel stated we wouldn't be doing the jump on his tour. Before releasing us for a few hours of free time, he took us for an orientation of the town, but I wasn’t paying too much attention, my mind was on other things. Trying not to let the gravity of it all sink it I made my way back to the bridge and the diving club. A quick chat and I was 10 meters up on the “screening” platform to test my bravely. Two jumps, some instruction on stomping the landing with strong legs and I was apparently ready. 

My jump instructor (who claims to have placed in the Red Bull dive competition held here a few years back) advised me to focus my mind on only the bridge, the river, and me. As I stepped up over the rail, sun in my eyes, a crowd of gawking day-trippers growing around me, my mind was anything but focused. Others had done it, I was here now, I had done my "training".  What was I thinking?!?! But my plan always just that - best not to think about it too much. And so off I went. 

Signed into the jump book as the 1011th to take the drop.

 

Some colour for my troubles