The Mid-Hudson Bridge has a unique additional feature. In 2009, Joseph Bertolozzi used the bridge as the sole instrument in his sound-art installation Bridge Music (see Bertolozzi’s official website for more information). There are two listening stations on the bridge, one at each pier, and those driving across the bridge can also access the music on their car radio. The full Bridge Music is available on CD and Bertolozzi has several YouTube videos of the music. Below is a sample of the music I captured in a video with views of the Hudson River and the two bridges (the Walkway Over the Hudson is the second bridge).
Half a mile downriver from the Walkway Over the Hudson (slightly closer as the crow flies) is the Mid-Hudson Bridge, so named for being halfway between New York and Albany. After being completely exposed to the noonday July sun on the Walkway Over the Hudson, I learned the relief of shade that can be had on a bridge, particularly when it incorporates some truss-like structure like the Mid-Hudson Bridge. I remember being completely in the shade while walking the Manhattan Bridge, but as that was in late December it had a completely different effect.
Taking in the Mid-Hudson Bridge added significantly to the length of my walk, but was worth it for the shade and the ability to add another bridge to my ever-growing list of walked bridges. I also encountered signs for “Bridge Music” on my way to this bridge which intrigued me and which I’ll explain further later.
Once again, additional fencing is provided on the portion of the bridge that crosses over the railroad tracks. Other than that pinch point and one or two other pinch points, my photographs suggest to me that this was a very pleasant bridge to walk. And overall, I think it was, but I was quite spooked by the number of signs warning pedestrians not to aggravate the nesting peregrine falcons on the piers. It wasn’t clear from these signs what behaviors would be sufficient to aggravate these predators, but I took the signs to mean that these birds were more sensitive than the ones found on tall buildings in Pittsburgh and curtailed my observations of and from the bridge accordingly.
I also tested out taking video of a portion of the walk of the bridge. This is something I have been considering as another way to share the experience of bridge walking with my readers. The video is below the sample of photographs. As I am holding my phone in my hand to take the video, there is a little bounce from my gait and some other slight stability issues.
I don’t remember how I first heard about the Walkway Over the Hudson, but it was several years before I developed the habit of walking bridges. Even at that time it sounded like a cool place to check out. Once I became a bridge-walker, it became a must-experience site. Over a decade later, I finally walked the Walkway Over the Hudson.
The Walkway Over the Hudson crosses the Hudson River at Poughkeepsie, NY. It opened in 1889 as a railroad bridge. It closed in 1974 after being damaged by fire and reopened as a renovated pedestrian bridge in 2009. It is both a National Historic Civil Engineering Landmark and on the National Register of Historic Places. At 1.28 miles it claims to be the longest pedestrian bridge in the world.
It is also 212 feet above ground or river level. In discussing my experience of climbing to the top of St. Paul’s Cathedral in London, I glossed over the fact that I almost didn’t reach the top due to my discomfort with heights and instead focused on the fact that claustrophobia almost prevented me from coming back down. Proportions and railing heights have a significant impact on whether I can manage heights. The Whispering Walk inside the base of the dome in St. Paul’s was too narrow and enclosed for me to handle the height above the floor (98 feet). The Walkway Over the Hudson, on the other hand, was quite wide having once carried two railroad tracks side-by-side. And so despite being more than twice as high up as the Whispering Walk, I did not experience much trouble with the height. I was more concerned about the possibility of the wind tearing my phone/camera out of my hand and over the edge.
Despite the potential damage that objects falling off the side of the bridge could cause, extra high barriers to prevent that are only located over the railroad tracks. As I’ve discussed in previous posts, some bridges have extra fencing only along portions of their walkways, typically over railroads and sometimes over automobile roads. The extra fencing on the Walkway Over the Hudson is from a time after it was common to curve the top, creating a cage-like feel, but before the need for extra height was incorporated into the design of the bridge itself.
There is no shade on a deck-truss bridge 212 feet off the ground. On a hot, July day, you feel the full force of the sun when taking such an exposed 1.28 mile walk starting at 11:30. If I hadn’t discovered that there was another bridge that I could walk across, I probably would have opted to take the shuttle back.
I can’t believe I never posted anything about my 2016 Alaskan cruise trip. It was one of my top 3 monumental trips, up there with my first train trip to Colorado (8th birthday) and my first international trip touring England and Wales (14th birthday). By the time I was 10, I decided that I would take an Alaskan cruise for my 30th birthday. By my mid-20s, I realized that wasn’t going to happen, but then when I was 29, my friend and her family were planning their annual cruise and picked Alaska. I asked to join them and a few weeks after my birthday celebrated my 30th while cruising in Alaska.
The trip was amazing. I gathered enough materials and felt excited enough about what I saw and experienced to be energized to share the trip with my readers. However, as soon as I got home from the cruise, life overwhelmed me. The months after the cruise were when I first learned to hate my job, I was house hunting, and my appendix burst. This plethora of life distractions prevented me from blogging.
Now, however, I have an opportunity to catch up on the trips and traipses that I intended to blog about but never did. I’ve had Long COVID since November 2023, which has reduce my ability to do new urban traipsing, but on days when I’ve had energy and inspiration, I am revisiting former trips to share with you. Through the rest of this year and throughout 2025 (and maybe beyond), I’ll be sharing these retrospective reflections of my past travels.
My 2016 Alaskan cruise started in Vancouver and ended in Anchorage. I added a few nights on either end to allow me to explore those cities. Naturally, I found my way to bridges in Vancouver. At this point in time (8 years after the fact), I don’t remember which was the instigating factor, the bridges or the store. Whichever inspired me first, I took advantage of walking over the Granville Bridge to visit Hammered & Pickled on Granville Island and returning by way of Burrard Street Bridge. I chose Hammered & Pickled for my destination to satisfy my curiosity on what kind of pickled they covered: pickled vegetables, pickled metal, or pickled people. It turned out it was a silversmith selling handcrafted jewelry.
Oddly, from my walks across the Granville and Burrard Street Bridges to and from Hammered & Pickled, I took more photos of the less structurally interesting bridge. This may have been the impact of being tired and dehydrated on the return or of the construction on the Burrard Street Bridge. However, the bridge that I took the most photos of in Vancouver was one I didn’t walk: the Lions Gate Bridge. I biked the waterfront trail underneath this bridge, rode over it by bus on the way to Grouse Mountain, and later passed under the bridge as the cruise ship left the Vancouver harbor.
Waterfronts are often the reason why cities exist where they are. However, in the last 50-75 years, we have built barriers cutting ourselves off from these natural amenities. I’ve written about the experience of trying to reach waterfronts in Erie and Chicago. Buffalo echoes those experiences, but with a happier ending.
Before making an official urbantraipsing trip to Buffalo, I had encountered the freeways around the city multiple times. The flying roadway carrying Route 5 that starts near downtown and travels over a sizable portion of the industrial area along the waterfront is a memorable piece of infrastructure. And one that I had assumed would contribute to the cutting off of the waterfront from the city.
Route 5 and I-190 meet at the southwestern corner of downtown Buffalo creating a knot of an interchange and on/off ramps that block access between downtown and the waterfront. But, beyond that point of intersection, both roads are elevated leaving open multiple pathways underneath for pedestrians, cars, and transit. They still create a psychological barrier – it never feels welcoming to pass underneath overpasses like these – but the physical connection is there. And once you pass through the barrier, there is much to see and do at Canalside.
In my meanderings in Delaware Park as part of my exploration of World’s Fair sites, I walked over two interesting bridges: the Whirly-Twirly Bridge and the Lincoln Parkway Bridge. The Whirly-Twirly Bridge is the best named bridge of the 100+ bridges that I’ve encountered since I started walking bridges (even beating out the Big Dam Bridge). It also provides one of the few pedestrian links across the Scajaquada Expressway which divides Delaware Park. The Lincoln Parkway Bridge was built in 1900, perhaps as part of the 1901 Pan-American World’s Fair. If so, the story of this bridge gets drowned out in the attention paid to the temporary Triumphal Bridge with its massive pylons that lasted only as long as the fair. From my observation, the Lincoln Parkway Bridge is a nice, modest scale, stone arch bridge that acknowledges the indigenous people of the area in its sculpture. I was able to get a nice lake-eye view of these sculptures from a rented paddle boat that sadly included a prohibition on paddling underneath the bridge.
My primary day job this year involves spending lots of time with Pittsburgh archives, particularly maps. That was how I discovered that East Liberty used to have more bridges. Since then, I discovered that the Highland Park Bridge used to be in a completely different location, adjacent to the western end of Heth’s Run Bridge. The image above from the Pittsburgh Historic Maps, an online ArcGIS map viewer, shows the 1939 satellite images for the area with the former Highland Park Bridge to the left and the current Highland Park Bridge under construction on the right.
Once again, thanks to Historic Pittsburgh, I found photos of the former bridge. The first pair of photos below shows the Highland Park Bridge beyond the Heth’s Run Bridge, the older one looking west and the newer one looking east. The second pair of photos compares the Heth’s Run ravine in it’s original condition after being bridged to its restored condition after being filled in and then re-excavated. The third pair of photos compares the former and current Highland Park Bridges.
My fascination with World’s Fairs was started when I was a child by Laura Ingalls Wilder and the San Francisco Panama-Pacific Exposition. It has continued as an adult. Chicago’s 1893 World’s Columbian Exposition is the World’s Fair for planners. The “White City” was the first major example of the City Beautiful Movement, an attempt to reduce or eliminate the unhealthy, overcrowded cities of the time.
After years of hearing about the importance of the 1893 Chicago World’s Fair in planning and architecture and after reading Eric Larson’s The Devil in the White City, I made it a goal to visit the fair site. On one trip to Chicago when the weather was beautiful, I rented a bike and rode down the waterfront trail toward what was left of the White City. This was before I had a smart phone which meant I turned around and gave up because I feared that I had misjudged the distance by bike trail. Later, I realized I was probably pretty close and if I had only gone around one more curve, I would have seen my destination.
My next trip to Chicago was the same year I visited San Francisco. This time, I took a bus to the fair location. I picked the bus stop that on the map appeared to be the closest stop to the remaining places of interest from the fair. When I stepped off the bus onto a broken sidewalk, I found a desolate expanse of vacant land, scraggly trees, and pock-marked lawns. A weary walk presented itself every way I turned.
The bus didn’t run frequently out there. The roads that crossed the vacant expanse stretched far and wide, empty except for the random sudden appearance of a single speeding vehicle.
As soon as I had stepped off the bus and it drove off, I felt tired and scared. I wondered how to extricate myself from this horrible environment. I had some additional information that expanded the negative emotions stirred by the conditions around me. I had heard or read somewhere that the former Midway, which was where I got off the bus, was used as a sort of DMZ buffer to keep “those people” (in this case, primarily people with little income or people of color) away from the University of Chicago campus. I had clearly landed in the middle of a land of have-nots.
As I had come this far with a purpose and there seemed to be little else to do, I moved forward toward the lake. Migraine-inducing music was blaring from an unseen picnic far away and it followed me wherever I went. After feeling like I had taken my life in my hands by daring to cross the road where at any second a car could come speeding by, I reached a path among experimental plantings. Following random turns, I found the lagoon from the fair. The one white building that remained was on the opposite shore and was surrounded by scaffolding. The walk that once circumscribed the water was shut off by a menacing 6-foot high, chain link fence and a bridge that divided the lagoon seemed no longer safe to cross over, though passing under through the muck and mud was an option.
I eventually found a way forward and reached the Japanese Garden that was developed for the fair and remains a peaceful spot. Prior to that, at the moment of being confronted with a security fence and a broken bridge, the fear and doubt that often accompanies me on my explorations became overwhelming. What if I’m stopped? What if I’m questioned? Do I have a right to explore here and pass this way? Do I have a right to explore places and pass judgement?
East Liberty Station Pedestrian Bridge, August 2020, Carolyn RistauSpahr Street Pedestrian Bridge, February 2022, Carolyn Ristau
The winner of the 2024 Bridge Madness tournament, the East Liberty Station Pedestrian Bridge, faced stiff competition in the Final Four round from the Spahr Street Pedestrian Bridge. Both of these bridges are relatively new, constructed with funding sources from the Obama Administration. When I moved to Pittsburgh 15 years ago, neither of these bridges existed. There was no pedestrian connection at Spahr Street and the pedestrian bridges at East Liberty Station were boxed-in bridges with no greenery. (For a side-by-side comparison of the prior and current East Liberty Station bridges see their Then and Now post.) These are not the only changes to bridges in this area. In fact, I suggest that East Liberty has seen more bridge turn-over in the last 100 years than any other part of Pittsburgh.
The Penn Avenue and South Highland Avenue Bridges have stayed fairly constant, at least as far as location is concerned. The South Highland Avenue Bridge was rebuilt and redesigned in the 15 years I’ve lived here. While the Spahr Street Pedestrian Bridge is new, the 1923 G. M. Hopkins map above shows that there used to be a pedestrian bridge at this same location. The historical precedent for a pedestrian bridge here may be another factor for why the bridge was located here and not further east where residents have been asking for a pedestrian bridge for years.
The other major bridge changes in this area are the former Ellsworth Avenue and Shady Avenue Bridges that show on the 1923 G. M. Hopkins map. Both of those are long gone. I assume they were casualties of the massive Urban Renewal of the neighborhood that significantly impacted the street grid of the area. The digital archives of Historic Pittsburgh include photos of these former bridges. The Shady Avenue Bridge seems to have been of a similar design to the former South Highland Avenue Bridge. The Ellsworth Avenue Bridge seems to have been of a similar design to the current South Negley Avenue Bridge that is just outside the map frame to the west. One key difference is that cages were added at some point to the South Highland and South Negley Bridges.
The East Liberty Station Pedestrian Bridge wins the 2024 Bridge Madness tournament with 56% of the votes.
Thank you for participating in the 2024 Bridge Madness Tournament. There were several tight contests in this year’s tournament. The tournament featured 16 pedestrian bridges in Pittsburgh. Half passed over railroads and half passed over roads.
From east to west, the bridges that pass over railroads were:
the North Lang Avenue Pedestrian Bridge
the East Liberty Station Pedestrian Bridge
the Spahr Street Pedestrian Bridge
the South Graham Street Pedestrian Bridge
the Melanchton Street Pedestrian Bridge
an abandoned pedestrian bridge in Hazelwood
the South 15th Street Pedestrian Bridge
the South 10th Street Pedestrian Bridge
From east to west, the bridges that pass over roads were:
the Eliza Furnace Trail Bridges over Swinburne Street
the Eliza Furnace Trail Bridge over Bates Street
the Bloomfield Pedestrian Bridge
the Duquesne University Pedestrian Bridge
the Crosstown Blvd Pedestrian Bridge
the Charles J Lieberth Pedestrian Bridge
the Gerst Way Pedestrian Bridge
the Duquesne Incline Pedestrian Bridge
They matched up as follows:
If you’re interested in exploring these bridges yourself, they are located:
urbantraipsing 