How America Built 300-Foot Wooden Trestles Across Canyons

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[00:00:00]In April of 1868, in southeast Wyoming territory, a man named Samuel Benedict Reed stood on a freshly nailed timber walkway 150 ft above the bottom of a dry stone canyon and felt the whole wooden structure beneath his boots begin to sway in the high prairie wind. He was the engineer of construction for the Union Pacific Railroad. He had 85 days of timber framing under him, 650 ft of wooden trestle in front of him, and a single train sitting on the east rim waiting for permission to cross Dale Creek. Most newspapers back east said the bridge would be made of stone. The men who actually built it knew there was no stone on that mountain, no time for stone, and no money for stone, so they built it out of trees. I have been reading the old construction ledgers, the photographs from William Henry Jackson, and the engineering reports from the 1860s and 1870s. And what I found is the story of how a country with almost no industrial steel reached west across canyons that should have stopped at cold using nothing but axecut timber, iron rods, and the muscle of men whose names history almost lost. If you care about the men who built this country with their hands, the workers nobody ever wrote a book about, please subscribe to Global Old History right now. Hit the button. Come back. When you stand on the rim of one of these old western canyons today, the geology tells you immediately why a steam locomotive should not be able to cross it. The walls drop 200 ft, sometimes 300 ft, straight down into rock. The floor is dry shale or running water. The wind comes off the western slope and hits the gap like a hand. In the 1860s and 1870s, the country had no money for masonry vioaducts of the kind being built in Europe at the same hour. The Gabit vioaduct in France would not arrive until 1884. American railroads west of the Missouri were running on a thin payroll, a desperate schedule, and a federal subsidy that paid by the mile of finished track. If a canyon stopped the line for 3 months, the company lost a fortune. So, the engineers reached for the only material they had in quantity.

[00:02:01]They reached for the standing timber on the mountain itself. The men who did the actual cutting and framing of these structures are the ones I want you to remember tonight. Two of them anchor this story. The first is Samuel Benedict Reed, born in Vermont in 1818, a working engineer who had cut his teeth on the Rock Island lines in Illinois before going west with Union Pacific in 1864.

[00:02:23]By the time he was standing on the Dale Creek Bridge in 1868, he was 50 years old and he was the engineer of construction and the superintendent of operations for the whole Union Pacific advance across Wyoming. He was the man who decided when a bridge was ready to take a locomotive. The second name is Arthur Brown. Born in 1830 in the village of Kenor near Aberdine in Scotland. Brought to Canada as a child by his widowed mother. Raised in Ottawa.

[00:02:49]Trained on culvert and bridge work by his uncle Alexander Christy. Brown was 35 years old when he was hired by the Central Pacific Railroad under James Harvey Strowbridge in 1865.

[00:03:00]Inside of one month, he was the superintendent of bridges and buildings for the entire Central Pacific line. He held that job through the completion of the transcontinental and much of the southern Pacific that followed. These two men working on opposite sides of the Sierra are the closest thing American railroad history has to the two architects of the wooden trestle era in the west. Reed pushed the line east to west from the Missouri across Wyoming and into Utah. Brown pushed the line west to east from Sacramento up through the granite of the Sierra Nevada. Both of them ran into the same problem at the same hour. The canyons were too wide for stone, too deep for embankment, and there was no other choice but timber.

[00:03:39]The basic engineering unit of a western wooden trestle is something called a bent. A bent is a frame of vertical timbers, usually four to six posts, sometimes more, set on a horizontal mudsill at the bottom and tied together at the top by a cap timber. The center post stands straight up. The two inner posts angle outward at about 5°. The outer posts angle out more sharply, sometimes 10° to brace the whole frame against wind and lateral load. The bents are spaced 12 to 16 ft apart along the length of the trestle. Between them run the stringers, the long horizontal timbers that carry the rails and the cross ties. On top of the stringers lie the ties 6 in x 8 in in cross-section, 9 to 12 ft long, set about a foot apart.

[00:04:20]On top of the ties go the rails. For a low trestle, a single tier of bents is enough. For a high trestle, the kind that crosses a real canyon, you stack the bents in tiers. Each tier is called a story. A story is usually 10 to 50 ft tall. You build the first story on the canyon floor. You build the second story on top of it. You build the third on top of that. And you keep stacking stories until you reach the elevation of the line on the rim. The taller the trestle, the more stories. The Dale Creek Bridge at 150 ft had roughly 3 to four stories of bents stacked one on top of the other. The Merritt Gulch trestle in western Montana, which I will get to in a moment, had eight. The timber itself was almost always cut from the mountain the trestle was crossing. On Dale Creek, the Union Pacific used native Wyoming stone for the peers at the very bottom, laid up without mortar, and then framed the wooden bents on top of those peers using lumber the company had shipped in by rail because the high prairie around Sherman Summit did not grow timber large enough for bridge posts. On the Sierra crossings, the Central Pacific used the pine and fur standing right at the work site. Crews felled the trees, dragged them to a portable sawmill, cut them into squared timbers, and framed the bents within a few hundred yards of where the trees had grown. This was deliberate. Pulling lumber by wagon over a half-finish grade was slow and expensive. The closer the mill was to the bridge, the faster the bridge went up. The speed of erection in the Western Trestle era is hard to believe, even when you check the numbers three different ways. The first Dale Creek Bridge was framed and finished in 85 days, 650 ft of trestle, 150 ft tall with native stone peers underneath in less than 3 months of working time. The specialized timber work was contracted out to the Boomer Bridge Company of Chicago, which pre-cut and preitted much of the structure in Illinois and shipped it west by rail and pieces. The ground in Wyoming, the carpenters reassembled the pieces like a kit. That was the eastern half of the answer. The western half of the answer is that the men working under Samuel Reid and the men working under Arthur Brown were the most experienced in its bridge gangs the country had ever assembled. They had built bridges in Pennsylvania, in Ohio, in Iowa. They had crossed the Mississippi. They were good at this work and they were fast. Quick pause. If these stories matter to you, I am putting them into a series of books. The men nobody wrote a book about. The ones who built this country with their hands.

[00:06:43]Volume 1 is out now. Scan the code on your screen or click the link in the description, then come back because what happened next is the part most people never hear. The crews worked from two directions at the same time. One gang started on the canyon floor and built the lower stories upward. A second gang started at the rim and built outward, hanging temporary work platforms from the finished line, lowering ropes and tackle to the men below. When the two gangs met, somewhere in the middle, the bridge was structurally closed. Then the upper deck timbers went on, then the stringers, then the ties, then the rails. A trained crew on a moderate trestle could lay down about a 100 linear feet of finished trestle per day, working dawn to dusk 6 days a week. On Dale Creek, with the prefitted pieces arriving by rail, the gang moved faster than that for stretches at a time. The total construction speed on that one structure averaged roughly eight linear feet of trestle per day across the full 85 days, but the actual carpentry days were faster than that. The rest of the time went to hauling stone for the peers, waiting on ships from Chicago and weathering storms. A bridge carpenter on these western lines in the late 1860s was paid in cash and in gold. The Central Pacific payroll records that survive in the Stanford Chinese Railroad Workers Project show that white laborers and Irish laborers were paid roughly $30 a month in gold plus board. Chinese workers were paid $ 31 to $35 a month in gold, but had to board themselves out of those wages. A skilled bridge carpenter framing the bents on a structure like Dale Creek or the long ravine trestle was paid more than a common laborer. By the 1880s on western lines, a bridge carpenter on a high trestle could earn around $325 a day. A common laborer on the same line was earning $1.80 a day. The carpenter was paid almost twice as much for one reason. The work was dangerous and the work required skill. You could replace a man with a shovel. You could not replace a man who knew how to frame a bent. So when Samuel Reed stood on the unfinished Dale Creek Bridge in April of 1868 and felt the wind move it under his feet, he was standing on top of a structure that had been put together in 85 days by men working in two directions at once using pieces pre-cut in Chicago and shipped by rail, framed onto native stone peers laid up without mortar, 650 ft long and 150 ft tall at an elevation of 8,247 ft above sea level. the highest point on the entire Union Pacific mainline. The wind, of course, did not care about any of that. What Reed did next is the part of the story that has never gotten the credit it deserves. He understood standing there in the wind that the design engineers back east had not accounted for the lateral force of a Wyoming gale. The bridge was built strong vertically. It was built to carry the weight of a locomotive and a string of cars. It was not built to resist the sideways push of a 40 mph wind. So Reed gave an order that in any other industry would have looked desperate. He told his men to take heavy ropes, run them from the upper deck of the bridge out to the canyon walls on either side, and anchor them to the rock. He had crews on both rims drive iron pins into the stone and tie the bridge down. He guided the whole structure like a sailing ship, his guide against the wind. As soon as proper iron cable could be shipped in from the east, the ropes were replaced with cables. The Dale Creek Bridge stood for years, guide to its own canyon. It did not collapse.

[00:10:07]The first scheduled passenger train crossed on April 23rd, 1868.

[00:10:12]In the days that followed, while carpenters were still up on the deck adding bracing and shoring the upper bents, two of the men working on Dale Creek fell. The records do not give us their names. The Union Pacific Construction Office did not write a memorial. The ledger gives no name, only a number. I want to say this plainly.

[00:10:29]The men who built these trestles died on them, and they died often. And most of the time, the company did not write down who they were. When you cross one of these old canyon lines today on a hiking trail or a heritage railway, the names you do not know are doing as much work in your memory as the names you do. Out west of Sacramento in the foothills of the Sierra Nevada, Arthur Brown was building structures that in their own way were every bit as audacious as Dale Creek. The long ravine trestle, completed in 1866, ran 878 feet across the ravine and stood 120 feet above the bottom. It was photographed obsessively in the years after by the Central Pacific Railroad Photographic History Museum predecessors by Alfred A. Hart and the print sit today in the Callosphere collection at the University of California. The long ravine bridge was framed in the standard central Pacific pattern of the era. stacked bents of squared timber, mudsill at the bottom, cap timbers tied with iron rods, how truss work for the longer spans, the whole thing built on the fly by Chinese laborers under Brown's direction with white carpenters running the framing crews. Three miles further up the line, just past Kfax and Placer County, the Central Pacific built the Secret Town trestle in the summer of 1865 and finished it in 1866.

[00:11:45]Secret town was 1100 ft long and 95 ft high. It was for a brief period the largest wooden structure on the entire central Pacific. Tracks reached secret town in May of 1866, just two months after they reached Kfax. The pace is the thing to hold on to. The line was climbing the Sierra at roughly a mile a week through the summer months and the bridges were going up at that same pace.

[00:12:07]The men who built Secret Town under Arthur Brown were the same men who 11 years later in 1877 would come back with shovels and fill the entire Trestle Inn with dirt and rock from the surrounding mountain sides. The reason for the fill was simple. The wood was aging and the company was terrified of fire. A locomotive spark in a dry summer could turn a thousand ft trestle into a thousand ft of flame in 20 minutes. This is the ambient villain you have to keep in mind through the whole western trestle era. Fire. The locomotives of the 1860s through the 1880s burned wood and then coal and they threw sparks. Hot sparks landed on dry timber. Dry timber, especially the pine and fur of the Sierra, ignited fast. There are records of small trestles burning out in a single afternoon. The Central Pacific kept water barrels along the deck of every major trestle, and section gangs were responsible for refilling them and for walking the bridge after every train passed to check for smoldering ties. The Union Pacific did the same on the Wyoming lines. Fire crews were stationed at the bridge approaches. It was a permanent lowgrade emergency and it never went away as long as the bridges were wooden. The other ambient villain, the one that was always working against the men on the deck, was the canyon itself. The geology of the western canyon country is what made these bridges necessary, and it was also what made building them so dangerous. The walls were often loose shale or fractured granite. A man working on a rope from the rim, lowering tools to the carpenters on the next story down, could send a single rock loose with one wrong step. That rock would fall 200 f feet and hit the men working below. The bottoms of the canyons were full of timber scraps, dropped tools, broken pulleys, and sometimes the bodies of workers nobody had time to recover before the next shift started. I have walked the floor of Dale Creek Canyon.

[00:13:54]The stone peers from 1868 are still standing there. The wooden bridge is long gone. What you feel standing under those peers is how absolutely vertical the work was. There was no margin. A slip from the upper deck went all the way to the bottom. Quick pause. If these stories matter to you, join the boss tier for $4.99 a month. Loyalty badge, custom emoji, early access 24 hours before public and membersonly polls.

[00:14:19]Link in the description. Now, back to it. By the early 1880s, the wooden trestle era reached its full vertical scale in the Western Mountains. The Northern Pacific Railway pushing west from the Dakotas through Montana and onto the Pacific coast hit a deep gulch about 12 mi northwest of Missoula. The gulch was called Merritt Gulch after a local rancher named Merritt. The Northern Pacific needed to get the line across it. The chief engineer of bridge design on the Northern Pacific at that hour was a man named CC Schneider who would later become one of the leading bridge designers in North America.

[00:14:52]Schneider drew up plans for a wooden trestle that would be eight stories tall, 226 feet from the floor of the gulch to the top of the rail, 866 ft long across the gap, 800,000 board feet of cut lumber. A crew of 150 men assigned to it directly. The Merritt Gulch trestle was completed in the summer of 1883.

[00:15:14]When the first train rolled across it on May 27th of that year, it was by every available account the tallest wooden railroad bridge in the world. 226 ft is not quite 300 ft. I want to be straight with you about the numbers. In the period we are looking at 1865 to 1900, the all-time tallest documented wooden trestle in the American West topped out at Merritt Gulch's 226 ft. The structures that crossed 300 ft of canyon vertically were by the time they were built made of iron or steel. The Picico's River High Bridge in Southwest Texas, completed in February of 1892 by the Phoenix Bridge Company of Phoenixville, Pennsylvania, stood 321 ft above the river and ran 2,180 ft across the gorge. It was the highest railroad bridge in North America when it was finished and it was made of metal, not wood. The man who designed it was the Southern Pacific chief engineer Julius Crutchnit. The man who first crossed it on March 30th, 1892 was Kus Potter Huntington, the president of the Southern Pacific. The 87 working days the Phoenix Bridge Company spent putting the Picos High Bridge up in the desert between November 3rd, 1891 and February 20th, 1892 is one of the great construction sprints of the 19th century. So when you hear the phrase 300 ft wooden trestle, what you are really hearing is the ambition of the era, not the literal ceiling. The men working under Reed and Brown and Schneider were pushing the envelope of what cut timber could do, and they were getting closer and closer to that 300 ft mark every year. The wood ran out of capacity at around 226 ft, which is where Merritt Gulch stopped. After that, the only way up was iron, and the only way the iron got there was on rails the wooden trestles had already laid down.

[00:17:03]Every iron bridge in the west that stands above 200 f feet was reached by tracks that crossed a dozen wooden bridges. First, the wood made the iron possible. The structural reason wood capped out around 226 ft is worth understanding. As you stack stories of bents higher and higher, the load on the bottom story compounds. Every story above adds its own dead weight plus the weight of the train plus the wind load to the story below. By the time you reach the eighth story at Merritt Gulch, the bottom bents are carrying not just the locomotive overhead, but the seven stories of timber above them. Wooden posts, even how trustrust wooden posts braced with iron rods have a compressive limit. You can go higher, but you have to make every post fatter, every cap timber heavier, every brace longer. At a certain height, the structure becomes uneconomical compared to iron. That cutout point in the 1880s was right around 200 f feet of total vertical scale. Above that, the railroad switched to iron and steel. The thing the iron bridges could not match was speed of erection. Merritt Gulch went up in a few months. The Phoenix Bridge Company at POS managed 87 days, but that was a sprint with a massive pre-fabricated metal kit, and it cost a fortune. The wooden trestles of the 1870s and 1880s were built by smaller crews with simpler tools, often from timber standing within sight of the work site. Arthur Brown's crews on the central Pacific framed entire bridges using nothing but axe ads augur saw steel square and scratchall. A man with five tools in a leather belt and a partner on the other end of the saw could put up bents all day. The how trust design patented by William How in 1840 was specifically designed for this kind of fast field framing. It used wooden diagonals in compression and iron vertical rods in tension. The iron rods could be tightened on site with a wrench to keep the truss square as the wood seasoned and shrank. That single feature, the ability to retension the truss in the field, is the reason the how truss dominated American railroad bridge design from the 1840s through the early 1880s. Arthur Brown used it.

[00:19:06]Samuel Reid used it. CeCe Schneider used it at Merritt Gulch. The men who actually swung those axis on Dale Creek and Long Ravine and Secret Town and Merritt Gulch and the dozens of other named trestles across California, Colorado, Oregon, Wyoming, and Montana were a mixed crew. On the Union Pacific, they were mostly Irish immigrants and Civil War veterans with experienced bridge carpenters brought west from Pennsylvania and Ohio. On the central Pacific, the framing crews were largely white carpenters with Chinese labor doing the heavy hauling, the embankment work, and after 1867, much of the bridge labor itself. The Stanford Chinese Railroad Workers Project has digitized payroll records that show Chinese workers were on the bridge gangs alongside white carpenters by 1867 and 1868 doing skilled framing work, not just hauling. James Harvey Strowbridge, the Central Pacific Superintendent of Construction, had initially refused to hire Chinese workers. By 1867, he had reversed that position completely. He spent the last two years of the transcontinental construction lying directly with the Chinese crews at the end of the line and running the daily progress alongside them. I pulled these names and these numbers from a stack of sources that took weeks to assemble. The California State Railroad Museum in Sacramento, the Denver Public Library Western History Collection, the Oregon Historical Society, the Union Pacific Railroad Museum, and the Union Pacific Historical Collection, the Central Pacific Railroad Photographic History Museum, which keeps the online archive at cpr.org, the National Archives Railroad Collections, the Library of Congress Historic American Engineering Record, which keeps the formal measured drawings of dozens of these bridges.

[00:20:46]Most of what we know about Arthur Brown comes from the obituary collection at the San Francisco Chronicle and from the biographical work compiled by John Galloway in his book on the builders of the Central Pacific. Most of what we know about Samuel Reed comes from the biographical files at the University of Iowa libraries and from the Union Pacific Construction Records. The monument to Reed was unveiled in Joliet, Illinois on October 10th, 1922, more than 30 years after his death in 1891.

[00:21:15]What I want you to picture now is the working day on one of these big trestles in the middle of construction. Sunrise around 5:30 in the summer mountains. The bridge gang assembles at the rim with bed rolls, water cantens, axes and saws in leather sheath, framing squares and cloth bags. The cook fire is at the camp a quarter mile back. The portable sawmill is closer behind a screen of cut brush. The saw blade already turning. A team of horses drags fresh cut squared timbers from the mill to the bridge approach. The day's bent goes up before noon. The framing crew stands on the previous day's deck, walks the new timbers into position with rope, drops them into the mortise joints cut the day before, drives the iron rods through, tightens the nuts. The crew on the canyon floor below sights up the line with a transit to make sure the new bent is plum. If it is not plum, the men on the deck loosen the nuts, shift the bent half an inch, retighten. By 2 in the afternoon, the new bent is sound. By four, the stringers from the previous bent run out across it. By six, the ties go on. By seven, the rails go down. By the time the sun goes behind the western ridge, the bridge is 10 or 12 feet longer than it was that morning.

[00:22:21]Multiply that day by 100, and you have Dale Creek. Multiply it by 226 vertical feet of stacked bents, and you have Merritt Gulch. Multiply it by every canyon between Omaha and Sacramento, between Sacramento and Portland, between Denver and the western slope of the Rockies, and you have the wooden trestle network that the United States built between 1865 and 1900. Most of it is gone now, burned, replaced by iron, filled in with dirt like Secret, dismantled when the line was rerouted, abandoned when the mine played out. What is left is in photographs. William Henry Jackson took most of them. Alfred A.

[00:22:56]Hart took the rest. They sit today in archives in California, Wyoming, Oregon, Colorado, and Washington DC. The story of the Western Trestle is also the story of the narrow gauge railroads, which spread out from the standard gauge main lines into the mining country of Colorado and California in the 1870s and 1880s. The Denver South Park and Pacific, the Colorado Central, the Rio Grande Southern, the Carson and Colorado, the South Pacific Coast, the Pacific Coast Railway. These lines used wooden trestles even more than the main lines did because their cargo was lighter and their canyons were tighter.

[00:23:30]A narrow gauge trestle is only about 3 ft wide on the deck instead of the 4' 8 1/2 in of a standard gauge bridge. The bents are smaller. The bridge can curve through a canyon in a way that a standard gauge bridge cannot. The Rio Grande Southern in southwest Colorado, surveyed in 1890 by Otto Mirs built a string of wooden trestles between Durango and Ridgeway that included structures over 100 ft tall through the San Juan Mountains. The Ofer Loop trestle on that line was 100 ft high.

[00:24:00]The Lizard Headpass crossing carried wooden trestles all the way through the snow country. When the line was finally abandoned in 1951, the salvage crews took down trestles that had been standing on the original timber for more than 60 years. That endurance is one of the things that surprises people most when they read the actual records. A well-framed wooden trestle kept dry where it could be kept dry, painted with creassote where the railroad could afford it, replaced bent by bent as the wood weathered, could stay in service for half a century. The reputation of wooden bridges as temporary or makeshift is a reputation written down by men who wanted to sell iron. The wooden trestle was a permanent piece of American infrastructure, not a placeholder. It was replaced eventually because the locomotives got heavier, the cars got longer, and the dollar value of fire insurance went up. But the wood itself was perfectly capable of doing the job for as long as the railroad was willing to maintain it. The Rio Grande Southern proved that. So did the Pacific Coast Railway in California, which ran wooden trestles into the 1930s. So did dozens of logging railroads in Oregon and Washington that ran wooden trestles untreated through some of the wetest country on earth and kept them in service through patient bentby bent replacement until the timber industry itself wound down. The Dale Creek Bridge stood from 1868 to 1876 as a wooden trestle. In 1876, the Union Pacific replaced it with an iron bridge built on top of the same native Wyoming stone peers Samuel Reed's crew had set. The iron version stood until 191 when the entire route was relocated to a lower grade and the bridge was abandoned. The peers are still there today 20 miles southeast of Laram near the ghost town site of Buford, Wyoming. The Merritt Gulch wooden trestle stood from 1883 to 1885. A working life of 2 years before fear of fire pushed the northern Pacific to replace it with a steel structure built right next to it. The wooden one came down. The steel one is still there in service today. The long ravine and secret town trestles on the central Pacific and Placer County were both filled in with dirt in 1877, also out of fear of fire. The fills are still there.

[00:26:09]The lines still run across them. The wood is buried inside. Samuel Benedict Reed lived until 1891 and died in Joliet, Illinois at the age of 73. He had built bridges on the Eerie Canal as a young man and bridges across the Wyoming high plains as an old man. The monument that went up to him in Joliet in 1922 was paid for by the city and by the surviving Union Pacific Engineering veterans who remembered what he had had done at Dale Creek and at Echo Canyon and at Promontory Summit. Arthur Brown lived until 1917 and died in Oakland, California at the age of 86. He had built bridges across the Sierra Nevada in 1865, snowsheds across the same mountains in 1868, the Oakland Mole, stations at Alta and at San Francisco, the ferryboat Salano, the original Delmonte Hotel in Monterey, and the San Francisco mansions of Charles Crocker and Leland Stanford. He was retired by the early 1890s, and he lived long enough to see the wooden bridges he had framed in his 20s and 30s, replaced by steel structures designed by men who would never set foot on a canyon rim with an axe in their hand. The two carpenters, who fell on Dale Creek in April of 1868, were buried somewhere on the Wyoming high prairie. The records do not name them. The ledger gives no name, only a number. They were almost certainly Irish immigrants, almost certainly Civil War veterans, almost certainly paid $1.80 a day. The bridge they died building carried the first transcontinental passenger trains across one of the highest crossings in North America for eight working years. And the stone peers they helped set are still standing on the canyon floor today. I have walked the canyon at Dale Creek and I have stood on the fill at Secret and I have looked at the steel that replaced the wood at Merritt Gulch. What stays with me every time is the speed of the work. 85 days for Dale Creek, 87 days for the Peekos High Bridge, a linear mile of finish line per week through the Sierra in the summer of 1866. The country had no industrial steel of consequence west of the Mississippi, almost no large machinery in the field, very little capital, and a federal subsidy that paid by the mile. What it had was timber on the mountain side, men willing to climb, foremen like Samuel Reed and Arthur Brown who knew how to frame a bent and how to read a wind and a payroll that ran in gold coin. They put the bridges up. They got the trains across. They lost men they did not name.

[00:28:29]And then they kept moving west until the country was tied together end to end.

[00:28:33]The next time you cross a canyon on a road or a rail line and you do not feel the structure move under you, remember that the men who first crossed those canyons felt it move every single time and they kept walking out onto the deck anyway. That is the work I came to tell you about. One more thing before you go.

[00:28:50]Every name I find, every number, every record, I am collecting it all into a series of books so these men are not forgotten again. Volume 1 is available right now. Scan the code on your screen or follow the link in the description.

[00:29:02]See you in the next one.