Incident at Royal Gorge Bridge

Incident at Royal Gorge Bridge

“Please, don’t.”

The voice came from behind. When Tristan first heard the voice, he had no idea the person who spoke was addressing him. After all, he wasn’t alone on this suspension bridge, perhaps it was a mother admonishing her child. Then the sweet feminine voice spoke again. Simultaneously he felt the gentle pressure of fingers on his left bicep.

“You’re thinking about jumping, aren’t you?” the voice prodded.

Yes, he’d been thinking about what pain he would feel upon contact with the rocky bed of the Arkansas River over 1,000 feet below. Would he feel again the excruciating pain that had accompanied the accident which left him a cripple? Now that his thoughts of pending self-inflicted doom were interrupted by some person intruding on his thoughts, and he was baffled that anyone might be able to read his mind, he turned to learn the source of this heavenly voice.

Her hair caught his attention first. Auburn and short, yet the wind blowing from the west down the gorge flung wisps of the hair toward him. Then his eyes met hers. The baby blue pupils emitted a sensation of compassion.

“Who are you and what makes you think I was about to jump?” Tristian sputtered.

“My name is Gabrielle Archange,” she began. “As to what made me think you were about to jump, there are a number of clues.”

“For instance?” Tristan pressed. Gabrielle stood nearly eye-to-eye with him and the face with the pursed lips before him couldn’t be more than thirty. He felt some sense of injustice that a woman ten to fifteen years his junior could so accurately assess his state of mind.

“For instance, you’re a cripple,” she started.

“And crippled people can’t enjoy the view from the Royal Gorge Bridge without some bystander surmising they’re about to leap?” Tristan snarled back.

“Most people with your degree of immobility don’t visit a site like this alone. They usually have a friend, a relative, or someone else to assist them.” Gabrielle responded.

“Just because I decided to amble down to the bridge by myself, doesn’t mean I’m suicidal,” Tristian protested.

“No,” Gabrielle admitted, “But then you’ve been leaning against the main cable at mid-span where the cable is closest to the deck for a long time, apparently fixated on the view of the gorge directly below the bridge.”

“Okay, Miss, I’ll admit. I was considering the possibility of taking a flying leap. What are you some kind of psychiatrist?”

“No, but I had a good friend commit suicide. As I look back, there were warning signs, but I didn’t recognize them as such. After she killed herself, I was devastated and sought to learn why people take their own lives. I’ve done a lot of research into the subject.” Gabrielle answered.

“Do you feel like you’re now an expert and have to find people to save?” Tristan sneered.

“I’m no expert and I’m not seeking people to save. I just saw you and had what you might call an intuition. I felt compelled to do something. I am also very curious to know why you feel you need to destroy your own life. Would you tell me your story?”

Tristan thought for a moment. He certainly couldn’t do the act now. He’d already assessed that it would take most of his upper body strength to hoist his body over the main cable at the point where it nearly came in contact with the guard rail. Any effort on Gabrielle’s part to restrain him would render the effort futile. He was also tired. He’d been on his feet too long. Suicide would have to wait for another day. Then there was Gabrielle. The presence of this beautiful woman and aroused in him feelings he’d though he’d never experience again.

“Okay,” Tristan started, “But let’s go up to the visitor center and find a place to sit down. I’ll buy you a cup of coffee.”

Gabrielle smiled and gave an approving nod.

Once they’d settled down with their coffee, Tristan began to relate his tale.

“About ten years ago, I was driving up Bighorn Canyon headed for my favorite fly fishing spot on the Arkansas River. It was late spring and traffic was heavy on Highway 50 as usual. The driver of a concrete mixer truck got impatient and tried to pass a semi with a flatbed trailer full of logs. I was approaching from the opposite direction. He saw me and I thought he would drop back to his former position behind the logging truck. There was, however, a sizable gap between the logging truck and the next vehicle in front of it. Instead of dropping back the concrete mixer driver sped up to squeeze into the gap. I braked to try to avoid a collision, but I had no place to go since the river was on my right. I turned slightly to avoid being struck head-on. The next thing I knew I was upside down in the Arkansas with the water rising inside my car.

I was rescued by a short, but muscular female employee of the Bureau of Land Management. She and a couple other BLM employees had been on their way to fight a forest fire near Salida. As this young lady was extracting me from my vehicle, one of her team members managed to get a helicopter dispatched to the scene to transport me to a hospital.

In the months that followed I endured several surgeries followed by numerous sessions of physical therapy. The doctors told me I was lucky that the BLM fire fighters had been nearby and were able to get me to medical care so quickly, otherwise the damage to my spinal cord would have been more severe and I would have been stuck in a wheel chair.”

“It must have been a harrowing experience,” Gabrielle commented. “But, after surviving all of that, what led you to contemplating suicide?”

Tristan continued. “In addition to the spinal damage, I suffered traumatic brain injury and now have to endure seizures from time to time. As a result, I can no longer have a driver’s license.”

“How did you get here today?”

“I have a service I can call, Gabrielle. They provide me with a ‘chauffeur’.” Tristan answered, emphasizing the word chauffer.

“That sounds kind of cool. Where is your chauffer now?”

“Told him he could leave and I would call the service when I was ready to be picked up.”

“And you never planned to call them back.” Gabrielle countered. “So why did you decide it was time to leave this world?”

“After I has sufficiently recovered from the accident, I sought out a lawyer and sued the company the concrete driver worked for. After several rounds of negotiations, we settled out of court. The amount of the settlement was substantial. It was enough that I would never have to work another day of my life. In addition, I found financial advisor who was very good at locating lucrative investments. He parlayed a good chunk of the settlement into a sizeable sum. I became independently wealthy.

I was never much for spending money on things like a mansion or an expensive automobile. Instead I decided to travel. I went to places I’ve always dreamed of seeing.”

“Like where?” Gabrielle interrupted.

“Paris, Zurich, Florence, Hawaii,” he started. Then he continued, “I also did cruises in the Caribbean, through the Panama Canal and up the Mississippi and Columbia Rivers.”

Tristan didn’t wait for Gabrielle to comment. He went on.

“There were lots of wonderful sights to see, fancy cuisine to taste, good wines and activities like deep sea fishing to participate in, but it all seemed rather hollow.” Tristen mused.

“How so?” Gabrielle prodded.

“When you don’t have to work for something like a trip to Florence, Italy, it detracts from the pleasure of the experience. In addition, such pleasures are meant to be shared. I’m afraid my appearance puts women off.”

“I think you sell yourself short as far as appearance is concerned. But, more importantly, I think you should seek out what you might do for others. Not only should you direct some of your wealth to those in need, but try to find some way to apply your time and talent. There are so many places that need volunteer help. Despite your handicaps, I think you could find the perfect fit. I think it will change your whole attitude toward life.” Gabrielle responded.

“I’ll give what you suggest some thought. I’m tired now. I’m going to call the chauffer,”

“Would you like me to drive you home?” Gabrielle proposed.

“I’d like that.”