Upstream of the Upper Peninsula’s Bond Falls is a series of small (approximately 20” x 10”) concrete platforms that, in years past, allowed visitors to easily step from platform to platform and walk across the Ontonagon River. Just upstream of the structure is a hydro dam that controls the flow of water in the river, and immediately downstream is the first set of rapids leading to the falls themselves. In the many years of the platforms’ existence (their design looks very old), some of the cement on the midstream section has cracked and broken away, creating irregular surfaces that were once flat. In two places, the platforms are completely gone. What was once a fun and safe crossing is now an attractive nuisance. There is a new pedestrian bridge not fifty feet away, so no reasonable person would cross the river using the busted up platforms.
I, of course, wanted to try. I walked out as far as the first missing platform. The gap was no more than three feet across, but the opposite platform was higher than the one that I was standing on. A leap to clear the open water would have to be upward as well as outward. As a young man I would have made the jump without hesitation. At age 70, I stopped to assess the situation and concluded I had about a 25% chance of falling into the river. The water was only two feet deep, but it had a flow that would make standing up difficult. I turned around and returned to shore.
The challenge, however, gnawed at me, so I crossed over on the pedestrian bridge and approached the platforms from the opposite side. I again walked out to the first gap to see whether crossing from that direction might be easier. Now the leap would be slightly downhill, but the platform immediately after the gap (the one I would land on if I jumped) was damaged, uneven, and wet. An awkward landing would likely put me in the river.
As I considered my options, I took my wallet and phone out of my pockets. I also removed my wristwatch. I wasn’t going to jump with those items on me, but I had no place to put them. I couldn’t hand them to either Manyu or Clare because they were now on the wrong side of the river. With my hands full of things that shouldn’t get wet, I turned around and again returned to shore.
Standing on shore next to the platforms was a woman not much younger than me. She was holding her phone as a camera, and I think she was planning to videotape my jump and possible fall. Oh,” she said, “I can hold those things for you.”
I handed the woman my valuables, stepped back onto the platforms, and made the crossing without incident. On the other side, my daughter said, “Way to go, Dad. I’m not going to do it today because Mom is here, but I’m going to come back with friends in the fall and we’ll all do it together.” My wife, in all seriousness, said, “I blame my mom for my stomach problems, but I probably got them from you.”
When I went back to retrieve my belongings, the woman holding them offered to send me the video she’d taken. I wish she hadn’t recorded the event or at least hadn’t sent me a copy, because viewing it is disheartening. The fifteen-second clip looks exactly like what it is: an old man clumsily pretending he isn’t an old man.
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