On the bridge

In our mid-forties Barry and I travelled around Tasmania for three weeks with a group of motorbike riders. One day, we decided to go off the beaten track and explore the Gordon River Forest Area with another couple from the group.

We were enjoying the adventure and remoteness of the area, so, when we were crossing a deep gorge of the Gordon River, we stopped on the bridge to take photos. However, when the husband of the other couple tried to start their bike, it refused to cooperate. Since we’d not seen a single vehicle all the time we’d been travelling through the area, the men thought nothing of working on the bike right there on the bridge. I decided to find a shady spot on the far side and took a photo of them on the bridge.

After a while, I had a strong feeling that I should tell them to get off the bridge. As soon as they were safely on my side of the gorge, we heard the thundering roar of a huge heavily loaded truck descending on the other side. He was taking advantage of the downhill slope to gain momentum for the drive across the bridge and up the side we were now on. As we watched, we realised the seriousness of what would have happened if the two motor bikes and three people were still on the bridge. There was no way the truck could have stopped in time once they came into view and nowhere for them to go as the bridge was just wide enough for the truck; also, the river was too far below them to consider diving into it. I can only say that God prompted me to get them to move off the bridge.

It’s an experience we’ll never forget and one that we have already shared with our grandchildren, acknowledging God’s protection.

Adele