Man on Wire

The Herzog-Friedrich-Strasse -- the street that runs up to the famous "Golden Roof" -- is probably the main touristic hotspot in Innsbruck.  Parties of visitors from all parts of the globe converge on this spot, to gawp up at the slightly underwhelming gilded acreage on display.  The original intention, of course, was exactly the reverse: the roofed balcony was constructed in 1500 so that Emperor Maximilian I could gawp down on the Great Unwashed performing various jousts, feats and tributes below.

With its cloistered luxury goods and souvenir shops, restaurants and pavement cafes, all leading to its gleaming golden bait, it's a bit like one of those funnel-shaped traps designed to channel fish into an easily-harvested concentration.  Most tourist towns have such a place, probably known locally as "Pickpocket Place", "Ripoff Row", or something similarly knowing.  It's where you go if you've got a couple of grand in spending money burning a hole in your designer pocket, and it's where the tour-guide inexorably leads your little flock in order to offload a script of dry, incomprehensible facts in the language of your choice.  Whenever I found myself cruising that street and its narrow alleyways for camera fodder, the expression "shooting fish in a barrel" generally came into my mind.

On the holiday weekend, the street was super-packed, because -- bizarrely -- some sort of inter-schools long-jump competition was being held there during the afternoon.  An elevated runway and sandpit had been constructed right down the middle of the street, forcing everyone into the cloistered sidewalks.  I suppose the 16th century jousting must have been rather similar, minus the commentary broadcast over the PA system. I retreated into a shop doorway to lurk inconspicuously in the shade.  And then saw something amazing, that nobody else nearby seemed to be noticing.

High above the street, a tightrope had been strung across, and a man was attempting to walk it.  He got most of the way across, then wobbled, and fell.  Luckily, he had a safety wire.  But, for quite a while, he simply dangled there, getting his breath, like a hanged man.  As he twisted his way back onto the wire he wobbled about and fell a few more times, and the movement caught the eye of a few more people, but essentially he was unobserved, walking in the sky, hidden in plain sight.

An interesting event, but not a particularly interesting picture.  But, as so often in visual matters, the image of sky-walking slotted itself into my brain somewhere.  So when, later that afternoon, I found myself under the portico of the State Theatre, I was able to see this rather more satisfying image of sky-walking, also found hiding in plain sight:

Or so I thought, until I checked the sequence of the images, and found I had actually been at the State Theatre at 14:30, and in Herzog-Friedrich-Strasse at 15:00.  Hmm, well...  Make of that whatever you like.  There's probably an interesting post there about causes, correllations, and coincidences, but I'll save that for another time.