Seeking out the darkness

So I have made my plans to walk across the Chesapeake Bay Bridge in about six weeks time, on the second Sunday of November. I am also considering how I might incorporate opportunities to walk across other epic bridges in the coming year as I travel to different places for vacations. There is a monstrous bridge in Charleston, South Carolina that I’d love to take a stroll across. The Ravenal Bridge has a pedestrian walkway so one can cross it on foot at any time for no charge. When my husband and I were in Charleston a few years ago (back when we were dating) I totally missed that monster. I have no idea how that happened, especially considering that it dominates quite a large area and its towers can be seen for miles. We were in the historic downtown part of Charleston and sadly we never ended up going near where we could see (or cross) the bridge. But there is an amusement park (Carowinds) that isn’t too awfully far away and so when my roller coaster club has their annual event there, I can try to include a visit to Charleston’s monster in my trip. Of course, I’m sure my husband will have no idea why I’d want to walk across that bridge. I’ll have to find some excuse…I’d love for him to join me in walking it but I kind of doubt that will happen. But at least he likes Charleston and has said he’d like to visit again, as would I. I did get him to walk with me from one end of the boardwalk in Wildwood, New Jersey to the other this summer, which was surprising. That’s almost a mile each way, longer than some bridges. But there’s loads of stuff to see and do on that boardwalk, as opposed to walking across a bridge.

Now some might wonder why on earth would I want to travel to and experience that which I consider to be ominous, creepy, dreadful, intimidating, and sinister? Why would I want to walk the Bay Bridge if I get creeped out just by seeing its image on those license plates? Why will I one day go out of my way just to head to south Baltimore and drive across the newly built replacement Key Bridge? And then there is that ultimate demon of all bridges – the Sunshine Skyway Bridge. One of these days I’ll go back to visit Busch Gardens in Tampa and some other Florida amusement parks and I will face that evil metal and concrete monster and drive across it. No matter how scared I might get. Like when I was a kid I just had to go into the woods and try to find that creepy dead tree. No matter what I thought might happen to me if I did find it. I had some ideas about that, and none of them had a pleasant outcome. I didn’t know what sorts of bad things might occur if I got too close to the furnace in the basement of my childhood home. All I knew is that something terrible was likely to happen. In both of those situations I only got as close as I dared; close enough to attempt to satisfy my curiosity but far enough away to feel safe.

The act of crossing a creepy bridge does naturally have some key differences as compared to facing some other fearsome things. For one, there is the notion of safety in numbers. Which is indeed a thing, especially if you are a bird, a small fish or some kind of hoofed animal that lives and moves about in a large group. Predators pretty much always seek to pick off the prey that is alone and has gotten separated from the crowd. So if you broke down or had a flat on a bridge, chances are there would be plenty of people around who might be able to lend a hand. More than a few jumpers have been prevented from doing the unthinkable from the deck of a bridge by fellow travelers and first responders. Which begs the question as to whether some don’t seek out such places because they truly hope that someone will intervene. That’s a topic best saved for another time.

However, if the bridge you are on collapses, it matters not if you are in a traffic jam or a throng of people, or by yourself. You will still be going down with the bridge unless you can get off of it in time, as was sadly the case with the Key Bridge workers. Luckily that is very infrequent in the scheme of things, so much so that most people don’t devote any time to worrying about it. But no matter how many fellow travelers will be crossing a particular bridge with me, a crowd does nothing to minimize the creep factor. Crossing the catwalk of the New River Gorge Bridge was still spooky, even with other people around. It would have been more intense had I been alone, but the spookiness didn’t vanish just because I traveled in a small group. The Bay Bridge will still be its epic and storied self, even with a throng of thousands that will accompany me across its eastbound span. Whenever I am able to travel to Florida and cross the Sunshine Skyway, it will still be the same creepy, evil, horrible monstrosity whether I cross at rush hour or on a quiet Sunday afternoon.