That great steel sentinel of the waters

Yesterday I took a walk, a very long walk of some six miles, and I had plenty of time to think. And so very much to think about! As I trod across the backbone of one of the twin steel serpents that spans the Chesapeake Bay, my mind wandered to the past and then back to the present. I thought of people who had or have some association with this bridge and its location, and I mulled over its dark history, its significance and its design.

For almost two hours I walked the bridge, but time seemed to be suspended as my feet pounded the concrete and my mind reeled. I thought of my cousin who passed away many years ago, and how utterly terrified she was of the metal monster of the bay. So much so that she’d drive for hours up into Pennsylvania to avoid both this and the Delaware Memorial Bridge and then back down into Delaware to get to Ocean City. To her, the Bay Bridge was the sum of all fears. And there I was, walking the length of its east bound span. A thrill for me but abject dread and the stuff of nightmares for others. That is but one aspect of this great structure (and other bridges) that I cannot comprehend. Having suffered from at least two simple phobias in my lifetime, I can sympathize with those who are struck down in terror at the very though of crossing a big bridge. But I can’t imagine what that’s like, as I enjoy the trip across these sorts bridges. Worse yet, there are those who have made many crossings of this very bridge and suddenly one day they become paralyzed with fear. And then they suffer thru debilitating panic when they have to cross or they simply end up avoiding the bridge all together.

Then I thought of another cousin, this one still very much alive, for whom the Bay Bridge is almost in his back yard. He and his wife cross it almost every day from their home on the eastern side, so for them it has become like a fixture, something quite ordinary and familiar. That which is surely no longer special or remarkable in any way. But he did say that they have never walked across it. They say familiarity breeds contempt, or, possibly in this case just apathy. And as I looked down at the turgid white capped waters of the bay, I remembered my aunt, who passed away earlier this year. She was the mother of the aforementioned cousin. Her last wishes were that her ashes would be scattered into the bay. I looked down upon the final resting place of her earthly remains, in the shadow of the great steel sentinel of those waters.

As I continued along, I considered the bridge itself. It is an example of some of the finest mid 20^th century bridge engineering, and for its time it was quite remarkable. When the original span was erected in 1952, it was the longest steel bridge spanning a body of water in the world. I also noticed that it is painted with the same ashen grey hue as was the Key Bridge. As far as I can remember, it has always been that color. In that regard, as compared to some other bridges, it is rather drab. The basic feel of this bridge is very utilitarian, purpose built and unadorned. The general design appears as though it was drawn up by a committee, consisting of various disparate styles of bridge construction. But in those days, that was the best that could be come up with using the existing technology and engineering knowledge. The Bay Bridge does have, at least in my opinion, a sense of rough and rugged beauty about it, perhaps like the way that a harsh and craggy mountain range can sometimes be very photogenic. Despite the fact that so many drive across it every day, or once in a while as I have done, it was still spectacular to just be able to stand there upon its deck. The feeling of finally being able to get up close to the benevolent metal monster of my past was just exhilarating. And the many moments I spent strolling across that span will be time that I will forever treasure.