Trusting Your Life to Golden Coils of Grass

Image courtesy of Alamy

Does it take courage to be the first one to cross this one-of-a-kind bridge, re-woven from grass every June? Or does it take trust in the craftsmanship of one man, descended from five centuries of bridge-builders? If one crosses it routinely, year after year, does it become such a time-honored tradition that the courage and trust are unconscious?

I’m completely fascinated by this BBC story drawn from Eliot Stein’s book “Custodians of Wonder: Ancient Customs, Profound Traditions, and the Last People Keeping Them Alive.”

For more than 500 years, the men in Victoriano Arizapana’s family have been weaving the Q'eswachaka, the last suspended rope bridge from a tradition dating back to South America’s Inca Empire. It’s 22 meters (72 feet) above a roaring river whose name, Apurimac, means "the God who talks" in the local language of Quechua. There used to be a couple hundred such bridges throughout Inca Empire along its nearly 25,000-mile Royal Road. Now there’s only this one.

My fascination stems less from Arizapana, the 60-year-old man who ties the bridge together from scratch each year, than from the people who walk across his bridge after it’s complete.

Would you?

Would I? I like to think yes. But I’m a continent away. It’s easy to be brave from a computer keyboard.

The story doesn’t say what will happen after Arizapana retires. I suppose the woven grass bridge will be replaced by something built with modern construction techniques. The annual thrill of first-time crossings will recede and be forgotten.

So if you happen to make it to the 500-person village of Huinchiri in Peru's southern highlands before Arizapana ties his last bridge, please report back on your first crossing.