Northern exposure part 1: the long, dark shadow
A tiny town lies nestled along the rocky shore of a river, surrounded by forest blanketed hillsides and valleys. Small shops, cafes and other businesses line its main thoroughfare, mixed in with some private homes. Many of the buildings are older and quite a few appear to date from the 19th century. The sun shines brightly, and the deep azure sky is dotted sparsely with white fluffy cumulus clouds. People wander along the main drag of this riverside burg, going about their business. Laughing children line up outside an ice cream shop about to open for the afternoon. All seems to be well in this peaceful little town. But off in the distance, something sinister lurks, casting a long, dark shadow across the land and river. Not far up river lies the source of this darkness, and it is inescapable. I can see it in my periphery as my husband and I eat a brunch of cream chipped beef served over biscuits. The restaurant in which we are seated has its dining room – and deck – overlooking the river. Some diners choose to wait for a coveted deck seat, which provides an even better view. From where we are sitting the creepy thing is framed almost perfectly by the windows and door that leads out onto the deck. People, probably mostly locals from the looks of it, nonchalantly enjoy their lunch, or late breakfast, as if nothing is amiss. Conversations are had, small talk is made and food is served and eaten. All in all, an ordinary setting in an ordinary (as well as an historic and beautifully scenic) small town.
But I know why I have come to this place. The reason is for my trip is still lurking there, in the corner of my eye, impossible to ignore or miss. We finish our meals and I down the last of my coffee as my husband pays the bill. And then, we head back to the car. But before we leave, we stop in the driveway to take photos of each other with the river – and the thing we came to see – in the background. We get in the car and my husband drives, and I have my phone ready to snap pictures and videos. As we travel thru town I spot something bizarre and rather spine chilling. A sign is posted on the side of a square grey clapboard sided building identifying itself as the location of a church. Churches of various denominations are common in most towns, so there is nothing unusual in that regard. But this church is using as part of its name, as well as its logo, the sinister structure that looms in full view behind it. That makes it all the more eerie for me.
Soon we pass the border of the town and the road makes a sharp turn to the right. Then I saw it again, towering high over the trees, a most awesome and breathtaking sight. My husband pulled over to the side of the road, knowing know what sort of pictures and videos I am trying to capture. I shot a couple of pictures of the fearsome edifice, before we pulled out onto the road and headed right towards it. I began filming as we drove on, its towering spires and bright white cables filling the left side of the frame. But to my right there was something else. A mark of a monster and of death. And just ahead, at the top of the other tower was our ultimate destination for the day, perched high above the river’s edge. We passed across the spine of the great concrete and steel beast, and we were now on the other side of the river. From there we made our way into the parking area and purchased tickets that would allow us admission to the top of the monster’s tower. I walked around the grounds at the foot of the beautiful but sinister looking bridge, gazing up at its underside high above the water’s surface. From this vantage point the monster’s shackles were easy to spot, and in fact, they could be seen from the restaurant across the river. The Penobscot Narrows Bridge and Observatory is a very recently chained monster that has been implicated in at least two dozen deaths since it began its service life in 2006. I was surprised when I first saw it in person, as pictures do not do it justice. Even though it has only a 135 foot navigational clearance (which is barely taller than the new Harry Nice Bridge in southern Maryland) it looked absolutely massive and imposing. And it’s only a two lane bridge, like the older span of the Bay Bridge (which has a navigational clearance of 185 feet). This Maine monster dominates its location, and was clearly the inspiration of the logo of that church in the little town of Bucksport.
So we headed for the base of the monster’s western tower, which tops out at 440 feet. There was a gabled doorway on the side, and an attendant took our tickets and told us to wait for the elevator to come back down. The ride to the top was quick, and once the door opened there was a floor to ceiling wall of glass looking out over the surrounding scenery. Anyone with a fear of heights would have almost passed out for sure! Then we went up two flights of stairs, all the while surrounded by glass until we reached the top floor. So there I was, standing within the monster’s glass shrouded observatory. The view was spectacular, especially on this gorgeous summer day. I was able to look back at Bucksport and spot the restaurant we had just eaten at, and on the other side one could literally see for many miles. As I looked towards the east tower, the cables played out beneath my vantage point where they met in the center of the span. A view of the opposite side looked out over the road leading to the bridge and to where the cables anchored into the deck. Sitting there in a grassy area to the right of the road was that piece of the monster’s spine showing a cross section of its deck. A little earlier I had stopped to take some pictures of this giant concrete “dinosaur bone” which make up the backbone of the beast bridge. To its right was the remains of the entrance and anchorages of the old suspension bridge that was torn down almost a decade ago. The piers of that bridge were left in the river as well. Apparently the old bridge was falling apart and beyond repair, and so the decision was made to build a new one.
Finally, once we had taken plenty of pictures we took the elevator back down to the ground level. On the way out I noticed a bronze plaque posted on the wall, and I took a picture of it. This made it obvious that this monster shares the same sinister design pedigree with its creepy southern cousin, the Sunshine Skyway Bridge. There on the plaque was the date the monster was completed and by whom it was designed and built.
So now, having seen this incredible bridge in person, I can understand why it became a monster in the few short years of its existence. It suffers from the same core issue as the Sunshine Skyway, and that issue boils down to both its location and appearance. A serene and scenic setting is coupled with the monster’s stark but stunning beauty and elegance. There in Maine the powers that be made the same mistake as those in Florida 40 some years ago. With the intention of creating something both attractive and functional, they ended up creating monsters. And then, later on, both states had to develop and deploy measures to try and stop the bloodshed. Measures which not only altered the appearance of said monsters in negative ways but were also costly to tax payers. This makes me wonder about the new Key Bridge and if it might end up being chained right off the bat. I don’t expect that the Key Bridge will be as attractive as those other two monsters, as in renderings it looks a bit more utilitarian, not unlike the Talmadge Bridge in Savannah. But I do have a gut feeling that the new Key Bridge will indeed be chained. Hindsight is 20/20 and so hopefully those who study history might have learned to prevent such problems before they start.