Week 22: Bridges

For me, I-10 across the southern states is a series of bridges.  My trek west began near Pensacola with the long, low expanse across the (surprisingly) blue waters of Escambia Bay, a train running beside me on the sister bridge.  Next it was across the north shallows of Mobile Bay (AL), past the USS Alabama, with a glimpse of the Austal shipyards and the Battle House Hotel building (the shape of which is rumored to be inspired by the S-61) before ducking into the George C. Wallace (yes, that George C. Wallace) Tunnel under the Mobile River.  This is followed by the four-ish-mile expanse over the marshy delta of the Pascagoula River (MS), followed by (just after Stennis Space Center, which back in the day had a great fly-in pancake breakfast) a swoop over the Pearl River. I have always enjoyed these low trestle bridges, and this day was no exception.

At Slidell, Louisiana the highway turns south, and the I-10 Twin Span led me over an east section of Lake Ponchartrain, depositing me near NASA’s Michaud vehicle assemble facility*.  The sky was clear, there was a (again surprisingly) fresh wind off the Gulf, and I was making good time; all in all a good day.  The Almonaster Bridge provided a good view of New Orleans, and it felt nice to be able to take in the sights.  After a quick stop for some snackies I turned south on 310 towards LaFourche Parish and a previous nemesis: the Hale Boggs Memorial Bridge.

The Hale Boggs Bridge is a cable-stayed bridge (those are the ones with cables fanning from towers to the deck like this one in Boston**) that arcs 158 feet (that’s 16 stories, yessiree) above the Mississippi River.  The first time I drove it, back in 2008, I was dizzy with hyperventilation as my car first pointed towards the sky and seemed to hover above the bayou before regaining speed on what felt like a super-duper-sized playground slide.  During my last visit to Galliano (on my first westbound leg, before my time in monastery) it hadn’t been much better. But I had been fine on those rail bridges in France, I told myself.  This day it was going to be different.

The first sign something was up should have been the ambulance.  It passed me, on the shoulder, as the highway straightened on approach to the bridge.  Traffic has slowed a short while before, which offered the opportunity to watch the flashing lights make their way up the incline, over the curve, and out of sight.  As I put-putted past the middle school it was joined by a Highway Patrol vehicle, then one from the local police, then a truck from the local Fire-Rescue unit, sirens and horn blaring to nudge impatient (and somehow unprepared) drivers out of the way.

Now the deal with me and bridges is this: for some irrational reason I worry that if I look out over the side my hands will inadvertently follow my eyes and I will bounce over the wall or drive through the railing into the air, and finish the sequence with a spectacular plunge into the waters below.  Or, even worse, that someone will hit me at high speed and the impact will throw me over the wall or through the railing and into the air, again to finish the sequence with a spectacular plunge into the waters below.  But today that seemed to be behind me.  We were over the rail yard at the beginning of the bridge, and I was fine.  We inched past the Last Exit Before The Bridge; I had this down.  But then, about halfway up the bridge, I realized that I could see the red and blue flashing lights of the emergency vehicles again.

That They. Were. Stationary. At. The. Bridge’s. Crest.

As we climbed, we zippered into a single lane, the left lane, furthest from the railing.  As we got closer, I could see them; about half a dozen cars, all with mild to severe damage, scattered in various positions across the right two lanes of the bridge.  Gaaack!  Some folks were out of their cars, gesturing as they told their stories to the officers.  Others were still in their vehicles, being tended to by first responders.  And what was this?  Fresh scuff marks (and was that a chipped segment?) along the retaining wall?  It was my bridge nightmare come to life (sans the fini flight), splayed across the road beside me.

I felt my stomach tighten and my breath shorten.  Juststareattheplateofthecaraheadofme.  Juststareattheplateofthecaraheadofme.

Youcandothisyoucandothisyoucandothis.

Drat.  Foiled again.

*https://www.nasa.gov/centers/marshall/michoud/overview.html and https://arstechnica.com/science/2015/08/nasa-versus-nature-august-29-2005/

**https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Leonard_P._Zakim_Bunker_Hill_Memorial_Bridge

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