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Message
TulaneLSU's Top 10 bridges of central California
Posted on 10/23/20 at 6:34 pm
Posted on 10/23/20 at 6:34 pm
Dear Friends,
Last night, he returned to terrorize and assault me. By he, I mean Godzilla. Some time around the age of seven, I began to have recurrent nightmares. My worst of them all is the Godzilla dream. For thirty years now, nearly weekly, when I close my eyes and drift to the other land, Godzilla is there waiting for me. It does not matter how fast I run or how well I hide, once he catches wind of my scent, he assaults me. His tracking is undefeated. He finds me and then he begins to breathe his fire and smash his spiked tail, destroying the edifices and mountains, those mighty fortresses, in which I seek safety.
Last night’s dream was particularly unnerving because Godzilla, after breathing flame and burning the skin off my back, wanted a sitdown with our mayor. Has Godzilla ever compromised for an armistice? The mayor was not available, but the mayor’s son was at an outdoor table waiting. I recognized him as Will Smith. Godzilla, wanting to speak to our elected King or Queen, turned his back from the Prince and returned to his pursuit of me.
Godzilla, like most ghosts, knows our weaknesses. He knows of my gephyrophobia and he controls me with it. He pins me in places he knows I will have to choose between confronting him, which is a death sentence in that dream world, and crossing a bridge.
Last night, I found myself at the edge of the Golden Gate Bridge with a line of fire approaching. Swarms of people were running away from the fire, nearly knocking me over as I stood there petrified in the dark and mist. Cars and busses and debris from annihilated homes flew through the air. And then I did what I have never done before in one of those dreams. I turned and made a step toward the bridge.
The next moment, I was in a new land, this land. I was awake and I felt my Pendleton sheets and my Scully & Scully striped pajamas soaked with sweat. My heart raced like the people escaping his wrath, beating at nearly 200 rounds a minute. Once my prayer cross and 1928 edition of the Book of Common Prayer were in hand and prayers rose from my charged heart, calm returned to that stormy place.
Most of you know that it was a tragic incident in 1992 on the Huey P that sparked my fear of bridges. This impediment in my life is more than an annoyance. It is a pathology that has stunted every aspect of my living. Mother has sent me to every possible psychiatrist and therapist who specialize in exposure therapy but to no avail. At one point she even considered employing the services of a self-help guru. After Googling her and showing Mother that this witch was also a Tarot card reader, that idea was smashed.
One of Mother’s close church friends thought she could heal me, so she had me sit down while she showed me a PowerPoint presentation of her favorite bridges. When I demanded she shut down the program, she brought out a Lego London Tower Bridge set, nearly completed, and asked me to finish it. I grasped the bridge and brought it close to my face to examine it. She said, “I just need a little help putting on the last few pieces.” The fear suddenly came over me and I gripped the bridge tightly just to throw it against the wall. Each of its bits, I hoped afterwards, would be lost to the crevices of her home, never again to constitute that terrible form.
Before traveling to California Mother warned me that we would be traveling over many bridges, including, “The really majestic and towering ones.” I knew this would be the case, but I still put off the reality of it, just as an obese man deludes himself into thinking a heart attack is not eminent should he continue eating offal like RaceTrac Texas toast split sausage sandwiches.
“Your fears are not going to ruin this trip for us. I want you right now to promise me you are not going to ruin another pair of pants or have a panic attack when we cross a bridge.”
“Of course, not, Mother. I have been practicing crossing the Danzinger Bridge the last few months. I am getting better.”
“But you still have not conquered the Crescent City Connection or the Huey P. The bridges of San Francisco are of similar height and length as those bridges.”
“Mother, I can only do my best for you.”
But sometimes my best is not good enough for Mother. She responded, “Just to be sure, if you give us any trouble on the bridges, I will cancel this year’s Christmas caroling.”
In the world of threats and consequences, Mother flashed the atomic bomb to my heart and hopes. And I knew she was serious.
I am happy to report that I crossed well over 25 bridges during my time in California. For some, it did require that I take some Benadryl before crossing, but I survived. I am hoping in the coming weeks to test my courage and cross the Crescent City Connection. Realistically, though, I still think such a feat is beyond my reach at this point.
Last night, he returned to terrorize and assault me. By he, I mean Godzilla. Some time around the age of seven, I began to have recurrent nightmares. My worst of them all is the Godzilla dream. For thirty years now, nearly weekly, when I close my eyes and drift to the other land, Godzilla is there waiting for me. It does not matter how fast I run or how well I hide, once he catches wind of my scent, he assaults me. His tracking is undefeated. He finds me and then he begins to breathe his fire and smash his spiked tail, destroying the edifices and mountains, those mighty fortresses, in which I seek safety.
Last night’s dream was particularly unnerving because Godzilla, after breathing flame and burning the skin off my back, wanted a sitdown with our mayor. Has Godzilla ever compromised for an armistice? The mayor was not available, but the mayor’s son was at an outdoor table waiting. I recognized him as Will Smith. Godzilla, wanting to speak to our elected King or Queen, turned his back from the Prince and returned to his pursuit of me.
Godzilla, like most ghosts, knows our weaknesses. He knows of my gephyrophobia and he controls me with it. He pins me in places he knows I will have to choose between confronting him, which is a death sentence in that dream world, and crossing a bridge.
Last night, I found myself at the edge of the Golden Gate Bridge with a line of fire approaching. Swarms of people were running away from the fire, nearly knocking me over as I stood there petrified in the dark and mist. Cars and busses and debris from annihilated homes flew through the air. And then I did what I have never done before in one of those dreams. I turned and made a step toward the bridge.
The next moment, I was in a new land, this land. I was awake and I felt my Pendleton sheets and my Scully & Scully striped pajamas soaked with sweat. My heart raced like the people escaping his wrath, beating at nearly 200 rounds a minute. Once my prayer cross and 1928 edition of the Book of Common Prayer were in hand and prayers rose from my charged heart, calm returned to that stormy place.
Most of you know that it was a tragic incident in 1992 on the Huey P that sparked my fear of bridges. This impediment in my life is more than an annoyance. It is a pathology that has stunted every aspect of my living. Mother has sent me to every possible psychiatrist and therapist who specialize in exposure therapy but to no avail. At one point she even considered employing the services of a self-help guru. After Googling her and showing Mother that this witch was also a Tarot card reader, that idea was smashed.
One of Mother’s close church friends thought she could heal me, so she had me sit down while she showed me a PowerPoint presentation of her favorite bridges. When I demanded she shut down the program, she brought out a Lego London Tower Bridge set, nearly completed, and asked me to finish it. I grasped the bridge and brought it close to my face to examine it. She said, “I just need a little help putting on the last few pieces.” The fear suddenly came over me and I gripped the bridge tightly just to throw it against the wall. Each of its bits, I hoped afterwards, would be lost to the crevices of her home, never again to constitute that terrible form.
Before traveling to California Mother warned me that we would be traveling over many bridges, including, “The really majestic and towering ones.” I knew this would be the case, but I still put off the reality of it, just as an obese man deludes himself into thinking a heart attack is not eminent should he continue eating offal like RaceTrac Texas toast split sausage sandwiches.
“Your fears are not going to ruin this trip for us. I want you right now to promise me you are not going to ruin another pair of pants or have a panic attack when we cross a bridge.”
“Of course, not, Mother. I have been practicing crossing the Danzinger Bridge the last few months. I am getting better.”
“But you still have not conquered the Crescent City Connection or the Huey P. The bridges of San Francisco are of similar height and length as those bridges.”
“Mother, I can only do my best for you.”
But sometimes my best is not good enough for Mother. She responded, “Just to be sure, if you give us any trouble on the bridges, I will cancel this year’s Christmas caroling.”
In the world of threats and consequences, Mother flashed the atomic bomb to my heart and hopes. And I knew she was serious.
I am happy to report that I crossed well over 25 bridges during my time in California. For some, it did require that I take some Benadryl before crossing, but I survived. I am hoping in the coming weeks to test my courage and cross the Crescent City Connection. Realistically, though, I still think such a feat is beyond my reach at this point.
This post was edited on 10/23/20 at 6:45 pm
18
Posted on 10/23/20 at 6:34 pm to TulaneLSU
I do hope you will enjoy TulaneLSU’s Top 10 bridges of central California:
10. El Capitan Bridge, Yosemite
There is a good bit of bridge construction here, requiring the bridge to be one way at this time. I took this picture shortly before I found a path to El Capitan. Minutes later, I found myself dangling off the side of that magnificent monolith. The adventure leading up to that precarious perch on the mount’s side I shall save for another Top 10. The enormous logs and boulders used to make this bridge bring to my mind the architecture of the lobbies of both The Ahwahnee and the Grove Park Inn, two of our nation’s greatest resorts.
9. Rocky Creek Bridge, Pacific Coast Highway (PCH)
The PCH near Big Sur is home to several architecturally stunning bridges, the second most impressive being this, the Rocky Creek Bridge. After riding here and pulling to the side to view it, I prayed that Mother would turn back for Monterey. When I heard her voice, “Alright, the next one is just a mile south,” I nearly cried. Then I remembered her Christmas caroling threat, bit my tongue, and got back in the car.
8. Cobblestone bridge over Strawberry Creek, University of California, Berkeley
This bridge was rather uninteresting when we crossed it while touring the less than impressive UC-Berkeley. The bridge seems cobbled together long ago, perhaps at the university’s founding in the 1860s. In fact, when leaders decided where to put this university, it was the lush meadows on each side of Strawberry Creek that won them over. University historians believe the current location is due almost entirely to the Strawberry Creek.
The bridge is tiny, but the most memorable aspect of the bridge was this lady below us. She was busy like a bee harvesting whatever it was she was harvesting in her three blue buckets. Shortly after I took this picture, campus security arrived and appeared to ask her to leave. I suspect she was gathering food for personal use or perhaps for a restaurant in adjacent downtown Berkeley.
7. Berkeley I-80 bridge
After our short jaunt through Berkeley’s famed school, we asked some polite N-95-masked teenagers who looked to be out for an evening of skateboarding, what we needed to do before leaving. Standing from at least ten feet from us, they suggested we try Yogurt Park, which apparently is a local institution. It was a short walk, and the line was physically distanced with only four people ahead of us.
I chose the cookies and cream mixed with Ghirardelli chocolate. The counter girl was surprised when I did not ask for a topping, “You really should get a topping.”
When in Rome, I thought, so I chose the fudge brownie. The young girl was quite generous, especially after I explained that we were there visiting and this was our first trip to Yogurt Park. Mother asked if there was a park at which to watch the setting sun. And the girl seemed somewhat confused but suggested that the bay was not too far west.
Westward we drove and I found on the maps the McLaughlin Eastshore State Seashore. I wondered if this was named for Aunt Becky who lived not too far across the bay. Nearing the park, we thought cars were not allowed, so we parked and began walking. Soon enough we were walking above the 12 lanes of I-80 traffic.
The half-light cast beautiful colors on the horizon as we cautiously passed this group of careless not socially distancing activists. They were in the process of installing an illegal LED billboard that reached tens of thousands of motorists. One thing a car passenger appreciates about the roads in California is that there were no ghastly billboards, as we see in the South, where casinos, alcohol, and scummy lawyers advertise. Billboards are disgusting, and almost always advertise for disgusting things.
When we returned to our car and reached I-80, we saw what their sign read: Vote 4 Earth. I leaned over to honk the horn, not to show support, but to tell them they need to distance from each other better.
6. Oakland Bay Bridge
From San Francisco’s founding, residents knew they needed to connect the city to eastern shore of the bay. The engineering and funding for such a bridge did not come until the 1930s. Its start and finish date (1931 and 1935) almost exactly mirror the Huey P’s (1932 and 1935). It is an impressive bridge, actually two bridges communicating with each other through above and through the ground of Yerba Buena Island. The earthquake in 1989 brought the bridge to world attention when one of its decks partially collapsed. I do not think the actual supportive structure was damaged, as the bridge was only out of commission for one month.
I am so happy that our crossing was at night. Mother sang, “He’s Got the Whole World in His Hands,” as we crossed. The darkness and Mother’s comforting words were all I needed to survive.
10. El Capitan Bridge, Yosemite
There is a good bit of bridge construction here, requiring the bridge to be one way at this time. I took this picture shortly before I found a path to El Capitan. Minutes later, I found myself dangling off the side of that magnificent monolith. The adventure leading up to that precarious perch on the mount’s side I shall save for another Top 10. The enormous logs and boulders used to make this bridge bring to my mind the architecture of the lobbies of both The Ahwahnee and the Grove Park Inn, two of our nation’s greatest resorts.
9. Rocky Creek Bridge, Pacific Coast Highway (PCH)
The PCH near Big Sur is home to several architecturally stunning bridges, the second most impressive being this, the Rocky Creek Bridge. After riding here and pulling to the side to view it, I prayed that Mother would turn back for Monterey. When I heard her voice, “Alright, the next one is just a mile south,” I nearly cried. Then I remembered her Christmas caroling threat, bit my tongue, and got back in the car.
8. Cobblestone bridge over Strawberry Creek, University of California, Berkeley
This bridge was rather uninteresting when we crossed it while touring the less than impressive UC-Berkeley. The bridge seems cobbled together long ago, perhaps at the university’s founding in the 1860s. In fact, when leaders decided where to put this university, it was the lush meadows on each side of Strawberry Creek that won them over. University historians believe the current location is due almost entirely to the Strawberry Creek.
The bridge is tiny, but the most memorable aspect of the bridge was this lady below us. She was busy like a bee harvesting whatever it was she was harvesting in her three blue buckets. Shortly after I took this picture, campus security arrived and appeared to ask her to leave. I suspect she was gathering food for personal use or perhaps for a restaurant in adjacent downtown Berkeley.
7. Berkeley I-80 bridge
After our short jaunt through Berkeley’s famed school, we asked some polite N-95-masked teenagers who looked to be out for an evening of skateboarding, what we needed to do before leaving. Standing from at least ten feet from us, they suggested we try Yogurt Park, which apparently is a local institution. It was a short walk, and the line was physically distanced with only four people ahead of us.
I chose the cookies and cream mixed with Ghirardelli chocolate. The counter girl was surprised when I did not ask for a topping, “You really should get a topping.”
When in Rome, I thought, so I chose the fudge brownie. The young girl was quite generous, especially after I explained that we were there visiting and this was our first trip to Yogurt Park. Mother asked if there was a park at which to watch the setting sun. And the girl seemed somewhat confused but suggested that the bay was not too far west.
Westward we drove and I found on the maps the McLaughlin Eastshore State Seashore. I wondered if this was named for Aunt Becky who lived not too far across the bay. Nearing the park, we thought cars were not allowed, so we parked and began walking. Soon enough we were walking above the 12 lanes of I-80 traffic.
The half-light cast beautiful colors on the horizon as we cautiously passed this group of careless not socially distancing activists. They were in the process of installing an illegal LED billboard that reached tens of thousands of motorists. One thing a car passenger appreciates about the roads in California is that there were no ghastly billboards, as we see in the South, where casinos, alcohol, and scummy lawyers advertise. Billboards are disgusting, and almost always advertise for disgusting things.
When we returned to our car and reached I-80, we saw what their sign read: Vote 4 Earth. I leaned over to honk the horn, not to show support, but to tell them they need to distance from each other better.
6. Oakland Bay Bridge
From San Francisco’s founding, residents knew they needed to connect the city to eastern shore of the bay. The engineering and funding for such a bridge did not come until the 1930s. Its start and finish date (1931 and 1935) almost exactly mirror the Huey P’s (1932 and 1935). It is an impressive bridge, actually two bridges communicating with each other through above and through the ground of Yerba Buena Island. The earthquake in 1989 brought the bridge to world attention when one of its decks partially collapsed. I do not think the actual supportive structure was damaged, as the bridge was only out of commission for one month.
I am so happy that our crossing was at night. Mother sang, “He’s Got the Whole World in His Hands,” as we crossed. The darkness and Mother’s comforting words were all I needed to survive.
This post was edited on 10/23/20 at 6:36 pm
Posted on 10/23/20 at 6:34 pm to TulaneLSU
5. Point Sur land bridge, Pacific Coast Highway
The headlands protrude from Point Sur like a giant nose, bristling against and causing the demise of unwary mariners. Sitting on those heads is an old light house, named after the land on which it rises. Tours are available, when the road is open, but are limited to twenty visitors daily. We were not able to see the lighthouse, and the road was closed. The land bridge to the heads, though, was a wonder of creation.
4. Merced River bridge, outside Yosemite
I assume this is a temporary bridge, spanning the Merced River, formerly known as the River of Mercy, a name I much prefer. It reminds me of a K’Nex set, and I hope the constructors had as much time building it as I would have. As you can see, it narrows to one lane, requiring traffic lights at both entrances to the bridge. You must hope you catch it at the right time because that light is a five minute light and there is no motion detector. Gratefully, we hit the light at perfect times and had only a minimal wait once.
3. Yosemite Creek Bridge
At 6500 feet, this bridge is only visible to those who are willing to make the arduous hike up to Yosemite Falls. In wet seasons, this bridge helps climbers willing to make the additional mile hike to Yosemite Point, which has unparalleled views of the Valley and Half Dome, avoid the slippery rocks covered in raging waters. There is a sign near the bridge warning people not to cross the waters except by this bridge or face certain death, as the Yosemite Falls are just a few hundred feet down. The sign shows a man slipping to his death, and some vandal has added a bubble coming from his smiling mouth with the word, “Yay!” I chuckled, but not loud enough for Mother to hear me. She would frown upon such ribaldry.
2. Bixby Creek Bridge, Pacific Coast Highway
Rising nearly 300 feet from the creek bed below, this 1932 concrete structure is one of the most famous bridges in the world. It is often considered the most beautiful view along the Pacific Coast Highway, which I think is a preposterous assertion. The PCH is filled with so much beauty, a human made structure does not come close to the majesty formed by the hands of our God. Just look at these photos I took which are far more beautiful, the first of which is McWay Falls, a wondrous spot in this land:
You agree with me, right?
1. Golden Gate Bridge, San Francisco
Is there a more famous bridge in all the world than the Golden Gate Bridge? I doubt it. The London Bridge, the Brooklyn Bridge, the Bridge to Terabithia, and the Causeway are the only bridges in its class of fame. Like the Oakland Bridge, its planning started long before shovels hit the ground in 1933. It opened in 1937. If only our youth found great accomplishment and worth in building like the youth of the 30s. Think of all the grand public works started and completed in that decade, the decade of Prohibition and when alcohol consumption, as a nation, was lowest than in any other decade in our nation’s history. Imagine how much grander and more wonderful the USA would be should every citizen never taste the poison of alcohol again.
Mother and I hoped to make a tour of the Muir Woods. However, after we crossed the bridge we began to see signs that said reservations were required. A quick internet search showed that there were no reservations available. Mother, undeterred, and assuming that her beauty could persuade the park stewards to allow us in, forged northward. Sadly, it was a female steward at the parking lot entrance who informed us that all spots were available, but we could return later in the day at 4, when the parking lot usually emptied.
Instead we headed to some of the overlooks of the bridge on the northside. It was quite confusing a route to get there, and not the route we had taken the last time we visited San Francisco. The byways were heavily congested with bicyclists who had neither respect for the laws of the road nor the rights of car occupants. One bicyclist even passed on us our right and yelled at us for going 20 MPH in a zone where that was the speed limit. Mother had to calm me after I began to speak back to him to inform him that he was speeding and illegally passing on the right.
On our first day in San Francisco, we did a 20 mile walk around the city, including its northern shores, which gave a beautiful, if shrouded, view of the bridge clad in International Orange paint. At one point, there was a man who appeared with a horse, as if he were a gold miner in long ago days. Behind him was a mindless container ship which did not have the appearance of having a crew. It was a menacing and entirely impersonal sea vessel. I shudder at the thoughts of our future and all its impersonal peculiarities that swallow us day by day.
Our last day in San Francisco was rushed, but Mother knew how sincerely I wanted to see the city from Christmas Tree Point. With such a name, it would be nearly sinful for us not to visit. So we trekked up several hundred feet. From that vantage, the city and the bridge were stunning. San Francisco is one of America’s great cities, and I do hope to visit our dear friends 138 and SuperSaint on a future trip. Perhaps we could plan a San Fran TD get together?
Friends, we must all face our fears one day. May we find strength in our Lord, putting on the whole armor of God that we may be able to stand against the wiles of the devil and the fires of Godzilla’s atomic breath.
Faith, Hope, and Love,
TulaneLSU
The headlands protrude from Point Sur like a giant nose, bristling against and causing the demise of unwary mariners. Sitting on those heads is an old light house, named after the land on which it rises. Tours are available, when the road is open, but are limited to twenty visitors daily. We were not able to see the lighthouse, and the road was closed. The land bridge to the heads, though, was a wonder of creation.
4. Merced River bridge, outside Yosemite
I assume this is a temporary bridge, spanning the Merced River, formerly known as the River of Mercy, a name I much prefer. It reminds me of a K’Nex set, and I hope the constructors had as much time building it as I would have. As you can see, it narrows to one lane, requiring traffic lights at both entrances to the bridge. You must hope you catch it at the right time because that light is a five minute light and there is no motion detector. Gratefully, we hit the light at perfect times and had only a minimal wait once.
3. Yosemite Creek Bridge
At 6500 feet, this bridge is only visible to those who are willing to make the arduous hike up to Yosemite Falls. In wet seasons, this bridge helps climbers willing to make the additional mile hike to Yosemite Point, which has unparalleled views of the Valley and Half Dome, avoid the slippery rocks covered in raging waters. There is a sign near the bridge warning people not to cross the waters except by this bridge or face certain death, as the Yosemite Falls are just a few hundred feet down. The sign shows a man slipping to his death, and some vandal has added a bubble coming from his smiling mouth with the word, “Yay!” I chuckled, but not loud enough for Mother to hear me. She would frown upon such ribaldry.
2. Bixby Creek Bridge, Pacific Coast Highway
Rising nearly 300 feet from the creek bed below, this 1932 concrete structure is one of the most famous bridges in the world. It is often considered the most beautiful view along the Pacific Coast Highway, which I think is a preposterous assertion. The PCH is filled with so much beauty, a human made structure does not come close to the majesty formed by the hands of our God. Just look at these photos I took which are far more beautiful, the first of which is McWay Falls, a wondrous spot in this land:
You agree with me, right?
1. Golden Gate Bridge, San Francisco
Is there a more famous bridge in all the world than the Golden Gate Bridge? I doubt it. The London Bridge, the Brooklyn Bridge, the Bridge to Terabithia, and the Causeway are the only bridges in its class of fame. Like the Oakland Bridge, its planning started long before shovels hit the ground in 1933. It opened in 1937. If only our youth found great accomplishment and worth in building like the youth of the 30s. Think of all the grand public works started and completed in that decade, the decade of Prohibition and when alcohol consumption, as a nation, was lowest than in any other decade in our nation’s history. Imagine how much grander and more wonderful the USA would be should every citizen never taste the poison of alcohol again.
Mother and I hoped to make a tour of the Muir Woods. However, after we crossed the bridge we began to see signs that said reservations were required. A quick internet search showed that there were no reservations available. Mother, undeterred, and assuming that her beauty could persuade the park stewards to allow us in, forged northward. Sadly, it was a female steward at the parking lot entrance who informed us that all spots were available, but we could return later in the day at 4, when the parking lot usually emptied.
Instead we headed to some of the overlooks of the bridge on the northside. It was quite confusing a route to get there, and not the route we had taken the last time we visited San Francisco. The byways were heavily congested with bicyclists who had neither respect for the laws of the road nor the rights of car occupants. One bicyclist even passed on us our right and yelled at us for going 20 MPH in a zone where that was the speed limit. Mother had to calm me after I began to speak back to him to inform him that he was speeding and illegally passing on the right.
On our first day in San Francisco, we did a 20 mile walk around the city, including its northern shores, which gave a beautiful, if shrouded, view of the bridge clad in International Orange paint. At one point, there was a man who appeared with a horse, as if he were a gold miner in long ago days. Behind him was a mindless container ship which did not have the appearance of having a crew. It was a menacing and entirely impersonal sea vessel. I shudder at the thoughts of our future and all its impersonal peculiarities that swallow us day by day.
Our last day in San Francisco was rushed, but Mother knew how sincerely I wanted to see the city from Christmas Tree Point. With such a name, it would be nearly sinful for us not to visit. So we trekked up several hundred feet. From that vantage, the city and the bridge were stunning. San Francisco is one of America’s great cities, and I do hope to visit our dear friends 138 and SuperSaint on a future trip. Perhaps we could plan a San Fran TD get together?
Friends, we must all face our fears one day. May we find strength in our Lord, putting on the whole armor of God that we may be able to stand against the wiles of the devil and the fires of Godzilla’s atomic breath.
Faith, Hope, and Love,
TulaneLSU
This post was edited on 10/23/20 at 6:37 pm
Posted on 10/23/20 at 6:34 pm to TulaneLSU
Posted on 10/23/20 at 6:35 pm to TulaneLSU
Posted on 10/23/20 at 6:36 pm to TulaneLSU
Posted on 10/23/20 at 6:36 pm to TulaneLSU
quote:
s
Why hello my dear friend
Posted on 10/23/20 at 6:36 pm to Jim Rockford
Can’t wait for him to post all of it. This is going to be good!
Posted on 10/23/20 at 6:39 pm to TulaneLSU
That "temporary" bridge over the Merced River was put in around 2009, because of a rock slide. I believe it was the second slide in fairly recent times in the same area.
They've been trying to figure out what to do about the slides since and have kept that one lane bridge for all this time
They've been trying to figure out what to do about the slides since and have kept that one lane bridge for all this time
Posted on 10/23/20 at 6:40 pm to TulaneLSU
so cal bridges > central cal bridges
Posted on 10/23/20 at 6:41 pm to TulaneLSU
Autist
u
t
i
s
t
u
t
i
s
t
Posted on 10/23/20 at 6:42 pm to TulaneLSU
why did you spell your name with dog turds?
Posted on 10/23/20 at 6:46 pm to TulaneLSU
You hate crossing bridges. You just did a whole short on your enemy.
Posted on 10/23/20 at 6:49 pm to TulaneLSU
California is truly beautiful. To bad it's full of wack-jobs.
Posted on 10/23/20 at 6:51 pm to TulaneLSU
quote:
Minutes later, I found myself dangling off the side of that magnificent monolith. The adventure leading up to that precarious perch on the mount’s side I shall save for another Top 10.
If you are talking about your foray up to SL come correct, I wanna know what techniques you used on the 5.10d move just above the bolt on pitch 1, the traverse on pitch 2, the 5.10a move just before the traverse on pitch 3 and the 5.11c crux traverse as you move right onto SL.
Having spent many a week in Camp 4
This post was edited on 10/23/20 at 6:52 pm
Posted on 10/23/20 at 6:52 pm to TulaneLSU
No one gives a flying Terd about bridges in shithole central California
Posted on 10/23/20 at 6:54 pm to TulaneLSU
Posted on 10/23/20 at 6:56 pm to TulaneLSU
quote:One hopes that -- while you were at said point -- you turned around, looked up, and gazed upon the engineering wonder that is Sutro (TV) Tower.
Christmas Tree Point
Posted on 10/23/20 at 6:56 pm to PeteRose
Serious question
Do you work or have a family?
Do you work or have a family?
This post was edited on 10/23/20 at 6:57 pm
Posted on 10/23/20 at 7:00 pm to TulaneLSU
Friend,
I appreciate your sharing these images and your vignettes from your recent travels in the Central Californian People’s Republic. I share your obvious appreciation for both the aesthetic beauty and amount of human effort to construct the wonderful bridges you have displayed in your postings herein.
The Bixby Bridge is a particular favorite of mine, I’ve repeatedly visited it and always leave more impressed with it.
A tiny addition to your thread I’ll offer, this United States Commemorative Coin was issued in 1936 to celebrate the opening of the Oakland Bay Bridge. This coin is one of my favorite Commemoratives our country has offered. Both the obverse and reverse of it, in my opinion, are well-executed.
As always, your lovely and entertaining efforts here are firmly appreciated by me, thank you for them.
I remain your humble correspondent,
Sincerely yours,
Mssr. Füt
I appreciate your sharing these images and your vignettes from your recent travels in the Central Californian People’s Republic. I share your obvious appreciation for both the aesthetic beauty and amount of human effort to construct the wonderful bridges you have displayed in your postings herein.
The Bixby Bridge is a particular favorite of mine, I’ve repeatedly visited it and always leave more impressed with it.
A tiny addition to your thread I’ll offer, this United States Commemorative Coin was issued in 1936 to celebrate the opening of the Oakland Bay Bridge. This coin is one of my favorite Commemoratives our country has offered. Both the obverse and reverse of it, in my opinion, are well-executed.
As always, your lovely and entertaining efforts here are firmly appreciated by me, thank you for them.
I remain your humble correspondent,
Sincerely yours,
Mssr. Füt
This post was edited on 10/23/20 at 7:42 pm
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