Extreme Frontiers: Racing Across Canada from Newfoundland to the Rockies

Extreme Frontiers: Racing Across Canada from Newfoundland to the Rockies by Charley Boorman Read Free Book Online Page A

Book: Extreme Frontiers: Racing Across Canada from Newfoundland to the Rockies by Charley Boorman Read Free Book Online
Authors: Charley Boorman
cable was there to help us hang on for dear life above the
     raging water. ‘Right,’ I said, ‘so I can be like Sylvester Stallone, then, in that movie
Cliffhanger
?’
    He looked me up and down. ‘I think you’re missing a little … you know … muscle there, feller, you know what I mean?’
    He took me to the gear hut so we could suit up with safety harness, karabiners and helmets. It’s always a bit worrying when
     you have to wear all this equipment, and I can’t deny I was feeling just a touch queasy. It’s all very well being the front
     man on these expeditions, but you’re also the guy who has to do the dangerous stuff. I checked out the whistle Wade had given
     me for attracting attention. Yep, it worked: good. I was bound to need it. He told me that nobody had ever fallen to their
     death from the Via Ferrata, but there’s always a first time for everything.
    Wade then proceeded to tell me the three options now available to this intrepid Chris Bonington wannabe: easy,medium and extreme. I didn’t like the sound of that last one, but I also knew that Russ or Mungo was about to remind me of
     the title of the programme, so before they could show me up for the coward I just might be, I said: ‘Let’s go extreme!’
    We were high on a cliff overlooking the water, and with a nervous laugh I admitted to Wade that I thought I might have lost
     my mojo.
    ‘Your mojo?’ he said. ‘Brother,
now
is not the time to lose your mojo.’
    From the clifftop, we began to make our way down a series of steep steps in the rock, with the iron cable guiding us. It was
     then that I made the mistake of looking down. Bloody hell, that was a bit of a drop! Although the water wasn’t coursing as
     much as I had feared, it was still slapping the base of the rocks like the waves at Cape Spear. Thank God I was clipped on
     to that cable. I knew that if I slipped, the harness would keep me from falling, but I would still hang ignominiously, scrabbling
     at the wall. Despite my fears, however, I gradually started to enjoy it, even getting a little cocky – holding on to the great
     iron grips fixed into the rock while swapping my feet around like a dancer. Then it was into an overhang, where a length of
     four-by-four had been fitted as there were no footholds. There were no handholds here either, only polished rock or the option
     of clinging on to the cable itself. It didn’t feel very safe. Taking a moment to have a breather and inspect the bloodied
     calluses on my hands, I clipped the spare karabiner on to a metal loop and leant back. Suddenly I heard something crack and
     almost soiled my pants. ‘Jesus!’ I cried. ‘What was that?’ One of the boards we were walking on had creaked, ominously, as
     Russ stepped on it. Idesperately screwed the thread on that second karabiner so it couldn’t work itself loose by mistake.
    Despite a few panicky moments, the whole thing was great fun – though it was a little awkward trying to film with Nat on the
     line with me, Mungo above and Russ behind us taking photos. It was the perfect way to view the stunning countryside, and finally
     we’d been blessed with a beautiful day – warm and sunny, with only a light wind. As we rested on a perch on the cliffside,
     Lac Saint-Jean was an expanse of shimmering water before us; sitting there with the sun on my face, I really did feel like
     I was hidden away from the rest of the world.
    My moment of solitude didn’t last for long, though – what Wade had planned for me next was anything but hidden away. The extreme
     high-ropes course. ‘It’s designed to challenge you, Charley,’ he said. ‘And I mean
challenge
you.’
    Between us, climbing into the heavens, was a vertically hanging log with wooden pegs hammered into it at various intervals.
     ‘This is the ladder of natural selection,’ Wade said. ‘You’re familiar with the theory of evolution?’
    ‘Sure,’ I said, cautiously.
    ‘Well, this is going to determine

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