We hiked over broken tree branches and other obstacles laid down specifically to deter people from coming here. At times there was no original path showing and instead Colby and I would have to follow trampled bushes or other signs of the direction we should take. Suddenly Colby grabbed my arm and stopped me and my first thought was there was a ranger or an officer and we were going to be in trouble then he said in a quiet but excited voice, “We’re here.” I looked straight forward and sure enough, we had made it.

The bridge, that once carried trains 348 feet above the ravine, loomed in front of us. We had been anticipating this moment the entire week and now that it was finally here both of us stood speechless for a moment. As we proceeded to climb over the steel tube and up on to the bridge the fullness of it hit me. It was absolutely breathtaking. With a slight breeze and the sound of rushing water from the river below I felt flooded with happiness and gratitude. I can’t recall a time when I felt so happy for little to no reason other than being in a beautiful place with one of my closest friends. The gratitude came from somewhere much deeper inside of me. I felt appreciative of the ability to be here and have an able body, lucky that this place had not been demolished but instead closed and people continue to provide directions to it, and amazed that such a stunning place is right here but will go unseen by so many people.

There were two other photographers on the bridge when we arrived but they did not stay long and we had the entire place to ourselves. Because it was completely abandoned, the railroad ties and rails were still intact in most places. It was obvious where destruction to the bridge had occurred from prior visitors versus the railroad company. Spray-paint lined the underside of the bridge, the support beams, and pretty much anywhere people could reach but instead of seeing it as defacing, as many would, I saw it as simple proof this place once thrived and was now deserted. Every abandoned place I have ever been has spray-painted markings somewhere as if it is a staple or a requirement and I believe it only adds to the setting.

I went barefoot and tip toed across the rails in the complete silence and aloneness for a moment I felt jealous of the bridge. It is able to stay this way forever while the rest of us return to the bustling cities and the boisterous lives we live. Yet, isn’t that the beauty of abandoned places? They take you away and enable you to escape. While you are there you are nobody because nobody is supposed to be there. When you leave you have the memories and the photos as evidence and that is all. Anything happening in my life seemed to dissipate while I breathed in the fresh air and hung my legs off the edge and for just a moment it seemed as though nothing else mattered.