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Carrick-a-Rede rope bridge


After an 800 metre walk along the cliffs taking in view of the Atlantic, we arrived at bridge.


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Waiting for our turn to cross we took in the coastal views and watched a sea lion splashing about in the crystal-clear water below.


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It performed the occasional backflip and twisted about in the water as though playing tug-o-war with an invisible rival.


Watching the sealine thrash about was like watching the anxiety raging inside Mrs H.


She wanted to cross the rope bridge, to take in the view and to prove a point.


But fear is a powerful enemy, and she was deep in battle.


With Miss H urging her, on and some mild bullying from the staff member supervising the bridge, she drew in a deep breath.


I detected a feint tremble as she mumbled “Okay I’ll do it.” and stepped tentatively forward.


The bridge was less rope and more plank than I’d expected.


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When Miss H tried to make the bridge sway, Mrs H was not impressed.


Her knuckles went white as she clung to the rope with all her strength.


Her knees were already wobbling more than jelly in an earthquake.


But she made it across and was rewarded with views back along the coast towards the east.


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The bridge was first erected by salmon fishermen in 1755.


Suspended almost 35 metres above rocky shoreline, the bridge provides access to the rocky island of Carrick-a-Rede.


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Catches of up to 300 salmon a day were common until the 1960s.


But sea-based fishing and river pollution led to a decline in salmon numbers.


In what turned out to be the final season in 2002, they only caught just 250 fish in total.


The only trace of this treacherous method of salmon fishing is the remains of the fishermen’s hut.


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We spent about 30 minutes on the island, just long enough for circulation to return to Mrs H’s fingers.


The second crossing didn’t take any encouragement.


The only thing Mrs H feared more than crossing the bridge, was being left behind on the island.


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