There's a New Bridge. Get Over It.
On Saturday, February 9 hundreds of folks of all ages, Outer Banks residents and visitors alike, braved the near gale-force winds and seasonally low temperatures for the rare opportunity to walk or bike on the new Oregon Inlet bridge. Needing a break from my winter project of building and installing new kitchen cabinets, this writer piled on all the winter clothes I could find and boarded the 6:30 a.m. ferry. (It was time for yet another run to Lowe’s anyway.)
On the ferry I ran into Ocracoke Current writer and photographer Crystal Canterbury who, along with her husband and infant son, was also heading for the new bridge event. We ruefully acknowledged that we were going to freeze our butts off. Ironically, had the event been held one or two days before, all the bridge walkers would have sweltered in the unseasonable warmth of the mid-60s.
Surfing the radio dial on the drive up, I heard several local broadcasters discussing the bridge event. Most of them were saying they’d thought of attending but had been dissuaded by the weather. One of them predicted that probably “about two people” would show up for it.
The NCDOT press release provided to me by my editor (who happens to be my spouse) explained that access to the bridge would be allowed only from the north end and only after a brief ceremony which would commence at ten o’clock. That didn’t stop me from hoping there might be a way to park on the Hatteras side for a shorter walk to the top.
When I arrived at the bridge at about a quarter to nine it was clear that the press release meant what it said. There were already traffic cops everywhere, one of whom politely confirmed to me that I’d be able to walk onto the bridge from the fishing center parking lot after the ceremony sometime after ten. That being the case, I decided to press on to KDH to take care of my other errands and walk the bridge on the way back.
It was close to half past noon when I got back down to the fishing center and lucked into a parking space someone was pulling out of fairly close to the bridge. The traffic and crowds were what you’d expect at a major sporting event. As soon as I stepped out of the car I realized I hadn’t worn enough clothes. Fortunately my wife had left her winter coat on the back seat so I used it as a scarf.
Having observed the construction of the new bridge on numerous trips up the beach over the past couple of years I was really excited to see it up close and personal. I suppose to most folks who come to this area nowadays the “old” Herbert C. Bonner Bridge has just always been there like the Hatteras lighthouse or the ocean itself. But I’m long enough in the tooth to remember numerous childhood road trips across Oregon Inlet on the ferry. In fact when the NCDOT cut the ribbon for the “old” bridge in May of 1964 I was a freshman at UNC. Even so I didn’t feel out of place. The Geritol Generation was well represented!
From bits of overheard conversation it was apparent that most of my fellow travelers were, like me, simply hiking from the parking lot to the highest point (90 feet!) and back down again although many brave souls walked all the way across and back.
The northeast wind at my back was so brisk that the trip to the top was the easy part! It wasn’t at all like climbing a hill and I was hardly aware of the incline.
Although I didn’t recognize a single person on the bridge I could tell that many if not most were Outer Banks residents as they were frequently greeting acquaintances.
On the long slog into the wind and back to the car I was, for some reason reminded of one of my favorite poets from high school days, Vachel Lindsay, who composed poems on his long walks across the country. I soon found myself reciting old poems I carry around in my head (usually for fighting off insomnia). The rhythm fit nicely with a walking pace. The stuff that passes for poetry these days in the New Yorker wouldn’t do the job at all but the rhyme and rhythm of Wallace Irwin, W.S. Gilbert, and even a creation of my own got me all the way back to the car.
So what was the experience like? In a word: COLD! But it wasan experience and I’m glad I did it.
