The bridge was out but it was too late to go back. The river waters were raging thirty feet below us. Fifteen girls were anxiously awaiting our decision.
Our trip was supposed to have been weeks ago, but it kept snowing in May! Finally, there was one Sunday morning in June that looked promising, with the sun shining brightly in blue skies. Ellen and I quickly arranged for our class to meet for our promised end of the year camping trip, but sunny skies in upstate New York are no guarantee of anything. One short hour after we departed there were already gray clouds furiously gathering and a powerful westerly wind started blowing against us.
Then a light drizzle began. By 1:30 pm, the precipitation had picked up and it was pouring down in buckets. We stopped to put on our rain gear, so now we looked like yellow chickens with the wings of our ponchos flapping in the wind. Invigorated and determined, we kept on cycling as the rain-turned-to-sleet-turned-to-snow mixed with snow, incessantly pelting down on us.
By three o’clock we were thoroughly drenched.
“I’m freezing,” declared Sharon as she pulled over to the side of the road. Her lips blue, her teeth chattering.
“Yeah,” exclaimed Nancy. “This is crazy!”
Two girls were starting to act oddly: alternating between raucous laughter and hysterical weeping. Uh oh! With these wet, windy, cold conditions, the stage was definitely set for serious hypothermia. Surrounded by red noses, blurry eyes, numb knuckles, and frozen feet, despite our attempts to maintain a positive outlook and infectious enthusiasm, Ellen and I, as their fearless leaders, knew that our responsibilities including needing to find shelter, immediately.
We looked around the mountainous road. The trees were bending back and forth, blowing over in the gusts. Where could we go? There was no shelter anywhere! But then we noticed a small white house beside an old red barn hiding behind the trees. Ellen and I looked at each other, and without a word, we dismounted from our bicycles and tromped down the muddy path that led to the little house.
As the troop leaders, Ellen and I knocked vigorously on the front door, as our group stood behind us with hopeful looks on their faces.
A woman with a kind face opened the door. “Um… um…” we began, with chattering teeth… “Um.. we need help! We’re frozen! It’s snowing!”
She peered sympathetically at our frozen expressions and readily agreed to let us stay. “The barn has heat and plumbing,” she said with a wide smile as she walked with us down the rest of the path, holding the key.
Fortunately for us, the old red barn also had a large, worn-out carpet on the floor of the biggest room. She read our minds and offered, “Maybe you should sleep here tonight. This storm isn’t planning to let up until tomorrow.”
We didn’t need convincing, and gratefully agreed. Everyone was so immensely relieved to be sheltered from the storm, our mood immediately livened up! We were warm!! Though Ellen and I were the camp counselor trip leaders, we were all about the same age. After we all pitched in to make a quick spaghetti dinner, Leah enthusiastically got us singing together. After a lot of camaraderie and laughter, we started passing out from sheer exhaustion.
In stark contrast to the dark foreboding sky of Sunday, Monday morning dawned bright and cloudless. The chill had mellowed to a pleasant crispness with only a mild breeze blowing.
After breakfast we packed up, expressed to our very kind benefactor our bountiful appreciation for her hospitality, mounted our bicycles and started off for a new day of adventures.
We didn’t get too far. We hadn’t even reached the end of the property, when we heard the distinct cracking sound of metal snapping.
“Aaugh!” cried Karen as we watched her body lurch forward off her bike and into the mud.
Fortunately, she wasn’t hurt, but her crank had completely snapped right off the frame!
As instructors for our girls bike touring class, we had taught our students how to repair a number of commonly-occurring break-downs, like fixing flat tires, replacing twisted spokes, oiling gears and changing chains. But not this. After a thorough examination, it was obvious that Karen needed a new crank—not just re-lubrication.
There were obviously no available bike stores anywhere around! Karen looked relieved. “Guess I better call someone to come pick me up,” she said and happily strolled back to ask if we could use our host’s phone.
We patiently waited with Karen for two hours until an older friend showed up with a van. By then we thought a few more students would want to jump in as well.
Despite our late start, the sky was still a cloudless blue. We coasted cheerily along for about an hour, past the icy snowdrifts that had accumulated in the fields, admiring the impressive landscapes of late spring blooming hills.
Suddenly a large black dog, barking furiously, appeared out of nowhere! He came racing aggressively at us, at top speed. When a dog attacks, it’s essential to remain calm, and put up a tough front. However, ever since a hulking canine once took a chunk out of my ankle on a different bike trip, it was hard for me to pretend to be brave when I was terrified!
Several fearless girls rushed to my rescue and surrounded me with their bicycles. The dog had almost reached us, when Debra roared like a mother bear, “GET OUT OF HERE!!”
Startled, my assailant instantly cowered, turned around and charged away with his tail down between his legs. It was a miracle!
My heart pounding, tears of relief sprang into my eyes as we all kept pedaling putting as much distance between us as possible.
“Thank you, Debra!” I finally managed to gush when I caught up with her. “You saved me!”
“Oh, it was nothing,” Debra answered modestly.
Soon after this episode, we came to a fork in the road and turned right. We coasted along the rolling hills for an endless time, wowed by the open, scenic vistas. We could see for miles in each direction. The scenery was stunning, the riding was invigorating. We were totally enjoying each other’s company, as we casually cruised along on roads with no cars, sharing stories, laughing with comradeship. Everything seemed perfect until Ellen, glancing at her map and compass, noticed that we were off course. No one had noticed that we’d made the wrong turn. At the fork way back when, we should have gone left!
We hadn’t passed a sign for ages. Where were we? Checking our bearings, we realized we had no alternative but to retrace our route back at least two hours, to that fork in the road!
“Uh, um… we have to head back the way we came. There’s no other way,” we announced to our group. As we gazed around at our class to gage their reactions to this latest announcement, we were amazed to see happy expressions on their faces.
Everyone was in great spirits. This was too humorous to be annoying. In contrast to our frost-bitten state only a day before, no one complained.
It was already mid-afternoon when we reached that original turning point and headed in the right direction.
The old road we were now traveling on ran alongside a river that was swollen from yesterday’s storm. Completely without vehicles, our crew of seventeen bikers could relax and enjoy the fragrant, intoxicating scents of the forest carried on the gentle breeze.
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After hours of blissful traveling on this scenic road, we suddenly came upon a construction crew doing structural work on a bridge. All the wooden planks had been removed from the steel support beams. We stopped, stared, and shuddered as we contemplated those narrow steel beams and the turbulent river far below. We checked our map and saw there was no mistake: we needed to reach the other side of the ravine in order to continue our journey.
What were we going to do? There was no way we could turn around and go back. We hadn’t passed a single store or home or any human habitat where we could refill our dwindling food supply. We weren’t equipped to camp out another night unless we wanted to forage for wild edibles in the melting snow drifts. We definitely needed to get back to town before the quickly descending nightfall!
Ellen re-checked the map for any alternative path and quickly surmised what we all intuitively knew she would say.
“There’s no other option: we have to cross this bridge! Once we reach the other side, it’s only another two hours ride before we reach Ithaca,” she informed us. And by then it would be dark.
Ellen bravely offered to lead the pack and venture first. Cautiously advancing at a snail slow pace, she took small deliberate steps along one beam, while balancing her heavily packed bicycle on the parallel beam two feet over. The construction workers stopped and kept quiet while she concentrated intensely to cross the wide expanse while crossing the narrow bridge.
One false move and that’s it! Precariously suspended far above the roaring waters, plunging to our deaths below was a tragic way to end a glorious trip. What was that queasy feeling in my stomach? No way was I going to venture over this gorge.
Ellen made it! What a phenomenal feat! We all cheered!
One by one each brave individual set out to conquer the dizzying height. And one by one, everyone reached the other side.
Finally, I alone remained behind.
“C’mon, you can do it!!” the girls called encouragingly.
How could I do this? I looked longingly at everyone who had already made it, everyone ready to welcome me with open arms. I was wishing that I could just fly over.
Though it was comforting to know that it was do-able, it wasn’t helping me to take the first step. They survived, so I can too. But it was too frightening. It was too scary. It was too risky.
There was no turning back. I had to move forward. Venturing out over the gorge, I could barely breathe, afraid that expanding my lungs would cause my downfall. Maybe an angel carried me. Maybe an angel carried each of us. Inch by inch, I made it. We all made it! We hugged, cheered and whacked backs!!
There have been many frightening moments in my life since this trip. but whenver I am facing that narrow bridge that must be crossed, I always remember that Hashem helped me reach the other side.
And we learned a great principle for life: If something can go wrong, it will go wrong, and you can still have a great time!