Long Bien Bridge: Scaling the Dragon
I’m not alone. Jean Verly, the man behind Vietclimb, is joining me. We’re climbing Long Bien Bridge – the call to do so is too much to resist. It’s as much about the challenge of climbing as it is about the beauty – the desire for photography and a feeling of being involved in something subversive.
We rise up as far as the mid-section, the motorbikes riders continuing to pass by beneath us, unconcerned by our actions. “You have to put your head through the gap and lift yourself up” I say to Jean, who’s just behind me. We climb up through the gap and onto the top of the bridge before following a steeply sloping girder to the highest point, walking slowly to stay safe. I feel a shiver of fear pass through me when I notice Jean almost lose his footing for a moment. We must be about forty metres above the river when we reach the top.
Cargo ships pass underneath, so heavily burdened with goods they are barely afloat. A few men swim in the river, with plastic bottles tied to their bodies to help them stay afloat. Ladies in conical hats sell barbecued corn to pedestrians. Nobody seems to notice or care that we are here.
We stop for a while to take stock of the occasion, sitting on some struts in the middle of the bridge. I think about where urbex is popular: the catacombs of Paris; the skyscrapers of London and Hong Kong; certain cities in America and Japan. I’m not so sure about Vietnam. “The movement is really just beginning in Vietnam” Jean explains. “It’s mainly in Saigon and Hanoi. But I guess one of the good things here is that, although the government is known for monitoring its people, you don’t have the crazy CCTV culture you have in places like London. So there aren’t so many barriers to getting involved.”
That much was clear from our ascent. Now I’m up here , it’s easy to take in how impressive this bridge really is. It was built in 1902 and was one of the longest bridges in Asia at the time. It was France’s way of saying ‘we’re here to stay.’ Half the bridge is now missing, destroyed by American bombers during the war, leading some to refer to it as a ‘sick dragon.’ Nowadays, it’s a landmark, a place for couples and young people to hang out or enjoy the sunset, and a climbing frame for lunatics like us.
“Nowadays, it’s a landmark, a place for couples and young people to hang out or enjoy the sunset, and a climbing frame for lunatics like us”
“You need to manage this fear and try to focus only on your climbing, which adds some interesting factors in the climbing process”
I can’t help feeling that the thrill and subversive element of urbex can be found in other sports, too. Skateboarding or free climbing for example. I ask Jean if there are other ways he tries to satisfy his desire for this kind of kick. “Oh yes, of course” he says. “There’s deep-water soloing, which is climbing on a cliff and jumping into the sea. There are no ropes, no harness, and no crash pads either. It’s kind of pure climbing because there is not so much gear. There is rock, there is water. It’s natural all the way. And you can go deep-water soloing from one or two metres, or as high as 30 metres.”
I realise as he says this that we are at about that height now, on top of the bridge. The thought of jumping from here seems terrifying. Jean seems to notice my concern. “You usually feel scared” he continues “Because the fall is much higher than from bouldering. It is scary, and it means when you climb it requires a different mindset because there is this fear that accompanies you. You need to manage this fear and try to focus only on your climbing, which adds some interesting factors in the climbing process.”
I was about to ask Jean about photography from deep-water soloing, when I realise we’re missing something crucial. We’ve been taking photos all morning but had forgotten the ‘hero shot’, which is so prominent in urbex. I tell Jean and return to the steeply sloping girder, this time crouching and pushing with my hands to shoe-ski quickly down the rusty metal to the mid-level point. I step back down the diagonal limb and cross the traffic to reach the edge.
Looking up, I can see Jean still up there, statuesque against the clouds as I take the shot.
To onlookers, he probably looks either suicidal or courageous, depending on their perspective. And in many ways that sums up people’s attitudes to adventure sports in general. They will probably always be divisive. People are drawn to urbex or cliff jumping for a number of reasons ; some just for kicks, others are more political and hope to subvert the surveillance state. You might want to get into it, although most won’t. But life is more fun when seasoned with a little risk. So what’s stopping you?
You’ll know when you make the decision.
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