My dark quest

The afternoon is bright and sunny, with only a smattering of bright cotton ball clouds in the deep blue sky. In the photo I am standing at the edge of a road, at a pull off area that overlooks a wide and meandering river. The color of my shirt almost matches the sky above me. There are a few other people around, who are also marveling at the scene and, presumably, enjoying the weather. Behind me lurks a magnificent gleaming steel and concrete monstrosity, its nearest tower cap reflecting the glare of the noonday sun. Below the lookout point a man lounges in the dry grass, sheltering from the blazing sun beneath one of the monster’s left over pieces, as if he were sitting beneath a wide crowned leafy tree. Nothing seemed amiss that afternoon, not to anyone who was in sight of me, nor to the lone bald eagle that soared lazily over the treetops across the river. But there I stood momentarily, smiling for a picture, my back turned to the great and terrible wonder I had come there to see. The Penobscot Narrows Bridge was a beautiful and amazing sight, as was the view from its east tower observatory. I had faced yet another monster this summer. Last year the monster in question was the New River Gorge Bridge. I traveled to both sites and accomplished my plans for the day and brought back memories, pictures and videos of my adventure.

Ever since I was a child I’ve had this thing about tracking down monsters, long before that notion became cool due to movies and games. While I’ve never believed in mystery creatures like Bigfoot or the Loch Ness Monster, there are plenty of real life monsters out there in the world. Some are natural, but no less dangerous, including deadly animals and treacherous places. Others are man-made structures that inspire both awe and sometimes dread. And finally, there are the human kind, of which there are so many, but those are best to be avoided at all costs if possible. But for me what fascinates most is the idea of something hideous hiding in plain sight. This is of course the lynch pin of many a horror story, where the antagonist isn’t suspected until it is too late. It is this aspect that turns something seemingly ordinary, like a big imposing bridge, into a secret monster.

My most recent trip was quite reminiscent of the much shorter journey I took as I child to try and find that spooky old dead tree in the woods across the street. The Maine monster was far easier to find, as of course bridges are part of roads and other pathways. What really sparked that old memory was the way the towers appeared on the horizon, jutting high into the sky like that tree. We turned a corner along Route 1 and there it was, looking far more imposing than I would have imagined. Both the tree and the bridge seemed quite out of place in their respective environments. In order for a road to be able cross a river, it is to be expected that there will be some sort of a bridge. But many bridges are rather modest, like a typical tree in an average wooded area that is, on its own, an insignificant part of a whole. But the monster that spans the Penobscot River is a glaring exception to that general rule. And so was that skeletal tree that rose high above its leafy neighbors. I think that tree compelled me as a kid because it totally dominated its location. One couldn’t help but notice it. It was forbidding looking as well, especially because it was dead. Its crown had long ago broken off, leaving a jagged spike and two big limbs on each side, looking for all the world like outstretched arms. The Maine monster was forbidding looking due to its scale and of course the fact that it has been chained. Added to that was the observation tower that could be accessed by visitors. I suppose if I been able to find – and climb – that old tree, I would have gotten a pretty good view of the neighborhood. This fall I will again re-visit my old “friendly” childhood monster – the Chesapeake Bay Bridge, weather permitting, of course. I will walk its entire east bound span.  Perhaps this will be a sunny day and I will get a whole new set of pictures and videos. And I am still holding out hope of one day soon visiting the ultimate evil bridge, the treacherous Sunshine Skyway. Even if I don’t get to walk across it, at least I can still photograph it, drive across it and revel in its devastatingly horrific aura.