A Severed Shackle

Morning updrafts brought grit against the catwalk timbers. I found a loose galvanized bracket wedged in the lower stave seam, threatening to pry free under the morning gusts. Kneeling low, I took hold of a heavy rusted padlock shackle left behind on the catwalk floor. Cold iron met rough cedar. I forced the curved steel arc deep behind the bracket flange, planting both boots to drive it flush into the joint. The vibration stopped with a hollow thud. Anchored. The tower perimeter remains uncompromised.