IT IS without doubt one of the most unusual and bracing sightseeing experiences on our shores.

A trip to the clanking, rattling, pinging, and glorious heights of the Newport’s Transporter Bridge is not for the faint-hearted - but the rewards are rich indeed.

A confession: It has taken me more than 20 years to go for it, and ascend the 277 steps up to the bridge’s high level walkway, and then to walk across the Usk.

This is not out of a fear of heights - it is just that I’ve never got around to it.

But the occasion of late opening on Thursday evening, to mark the bridge’s 113th birthday seemed as good an opportunity as any. So up I went.

I’ve imagined myself getting to the top and gazing over Newport and beyond on a beautiful sunny day with not a cloud in the sky, nor a breath of wind.

Thursday evening was anything but - the sky was slate grey, a fine drizzle slicked every surface, a whipping wind blew.

Halfway up, dodging the drips of water, I caught myself shuffling and crabbing along the landings between sets of steps like someone much more advanced in years than my already 50+.

And it is only when you are up there that you realise, not so much how high the walkway is, but how exposed you are.

The thrum of the cables as the gondola passes below, its workings exposed and, far below one’s feet the sight of the sluggish brown Usk through the steel lattice - this is an extremely sensory experience.

I strode purposefully to the eastern side and back, in time to meet a breathless fellow climber who declared on mounting the final step, “I don’t like heights. I don’t like bridges” (Swear words removed).

She’d made it though, and appeared glad she had. Long may the curious (and the queasy) keep climbing.