The sense of flight, the little boy crammed into a sack and the look of anxious concentration on the girl's face suggest something sinister. In fact, this is the school run, Colombian rainforest-style.

For Daisy Mora, her brother Jamid and the children of 11 other families who live on the forested slopes of the Rio Negro valley, 60km south of Bogotá, this is the only way to get across the canyon to school. Steel cables 800m in length are strung 400m above the canopy between Daisy's hamlet and the slope opposite. She attaches the sack containing her brother – he is too young, at five, to make the crossing alone – and herself to a pulley, knotting the ends of a hemp rope to create a seat. A branch in the shape of a wishbone forms a crude brake, which slows them to around 50 miles an hour. The entire journey takes 60 seconds.

As she speeds towards the tyre that acts as a buffer on the other side, Daisy hammers at the steel bolt on the pulley to ensure it doesn't loosen. It grates and sparks, and the wooden brake starts to smoke from the friction.

The villagers here don't just transport themselves – they ferry goods such as cassava, corn, even cattle. Accidents do happen: arms, legs and knees are routinely broken from crash landings; a cow died upon impact on the other side; and the cables have been sabotaged, with both the military and Farc (the Revolutionary Armed Forces of Colombia) suspected.

A child's first ride is an initiation in which the whole family takes part, the father usually demonstrating how to operate the brake while the mother makes signs of the cross.

When it rains, the cables are too slippery to use, and Daisy has to stay at home, something British children can only dream of. Unlike them, however, Daisy risks her life to get to school – that might give them something to think about.