Less than 24 hours later, shortly before sunset.

We embark up towards the pipes, taking the long way, to experience all that the Masonic Gardens has to offer. It was a good day.

Visiting the water towers with fresh snow on the ground may be the best time of all to visit. The air is pure, the ground is untouched. The pipes are yours.

David props the ladder against the tower side with an expert eye.

That's it. No more empty space between the ground and that old rusty steel ladder.

and its not a rope, either.

and now its climbin' time. No turning back now. Time to Git R Done, once and for all.

So up I climb.

While climbing, I figured there was about a 5% chance the ladder would fail in some way and I would fall to the ground screaming helplessly and end up either dead or disfigured for the rest of my days.

In reality, the ladder was as strong as steel. Because it was steel, and I wasn't the first to climb it. I was merely the most recent, in a long line of bored Shrewsburian youth.

The view? Fuck the view. If I wanted a view I would con someone into driving me up Mt. Washington. People don't climb water towers for views. They climb it for their health. Everyone knows that.

The End.


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