Saturday, April 13, 2013

A bridge? A tunnel? Both?

This is what we almost got to see:

http://www.pearsonsfalls.org/

The guide book didn't say the road in was a loop. Naturally, we entered from the back side and that's when the adventure began.

The road, we couldn't help but notice, was gradually getting more and more narrow. Finally, room for only one vehicle at a time with damn few spots wide enough for you to pull off.

The houses looked dark and mysterious in the fading light filtering through the barren trees.

Around a sharp bend there was the most foreboding sight I've ever seen. We were too shocked to take pictures but vow we will return. What got us gasping was the small tunnel we had to drive through to get out of there. Backing up was simply out of the question. No shoulders. Just canyons. Yawning canyons.

Inches. That's all we had to spare. Inches -- top, side and bottom. It was pitch black and wet. I have no depth perception. As we neared the exit hole, the dim light revealed the walls were covered with graffiti. Solid graffiti. Gibberish. Nothing was decipherable. Oh god, we got out. Alive. In the distance, I could hear banjos begin to duel.

Our hearts were still racing when we came upon the next strange thing. Battery-operated traffic signals. Bridge repairs forced traffic into barely one lane. But there were no other cars on the road for miles. Could it be a trap? Did you hear that? Highwaymen?

Finally, we crunched our way to the guard house at the gate. A kindly guy came out to greet us and take our five bucks. "You'uns come up the gravel road, did ye? Passed through that tunnel, did ye? Only it hain't no tunnel. Hit's a bridge." I was not prepared to argue the difference.

We never got to see the falls. There are over 200 steps up the mountain before you get to any sort of vista. Among the three of us, two were sporting pacemakers. We demurred. And the gatekeeper generously refunded our five dollars.

But we are going back for pictures of the tunnel/bridge. I promise.

In a smaller car.

4 comments:

Ken Martin said...

You're a fine storyteller, George, and it was good to relive this adventure with you, vicariously.

don said...

I didn't know where you were going with this. I expected ichabod crane to come galloping out of the mist. nice piece. honestly, I don't think you can get there from here.

George said...

I had my pacemaker set on stun -- just in case.

don said...

pearson's is a pleasant falls, more bilbo baggins country than ichabod crane, actually. the moss, lichen and boids remind me of oregon. too dry in colorado.

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