I have dealt with the question of what is a bridge multiple times in the last decade. Buffalo adds to this philosophical conversation by combining the questions “what is a bridge?” and “what is the purpose of a bridge?” I’ve previous walked through what is the difference between a bridge and a ramp (Pittsburgh Edition I and Edition II), this time the nuance is “what is the difference between a bridge and an overpass?”
In Buffalo, the structure that carries Route 5 over what used to be largely industrial areas with some residential parts reads to me like an overpass. But sitting down to think it through, I realized that I may have to call it a bridge as well. It has all the structural components that are found in bridges: roadbed, spans, support. Yet, its purpose does not feel like a bridge.
While in Pittsburgh bridges divide the residents of the city, more typically bridges are about making connections. We use the term “bridge” metaphorically for building a connection. I see physical bridges as a structure that connects two (or more) points.
But Route 5 is not about connection, it is all about passing over. So can I call it a bridge?
I think an engineer would say yes. Since I started this philosophical debate of what is a bridge, the Fern Hollow Bridge in Pittsburgh collapsed, which led me to discover the Federal Highway Administration’s bridge database. It took a minute to figure out which dot on their map referred to Route 5’s structure, but I’m pretty sure it’s the one that is 1.38 miles long with 112 spans. The FHA, therefore, considers it a bridge.
From a structural viewpoint then, an overpass is a bridge; but from a philosophical one, an overpass may not be a bridge unless it is also a path of connection.
The week before Bridge Madness 2025, my aunt asked why I’m interested in bridges. The answer actually has nothing to do with the bridges themselves.
In 2009-2010, I volunteered in AmeriCorps in Pittsburgh, a city I thought I knew until AmeriCorps exposed me to a different side of the city. After 11 months of eye-opening experiences teaching me that Pittsburgh is far more than its downtown, museums, universities, and middle- and upper-income neighborhoods, I found myself attending a fundraiser at a house on Grandview Avenue.
Grandview Avenue is well named. It sits on top of a ridge directly across the river from downtown Pittsburgh, providing great views of the skyline and neighborhoods along the rivers. It is a popular spot to bring out-of-town visitors to show off the city and ride one of the two remaining inclines. I had been there countless times first as an out-of-town visitor and later as a resident bringing out-of-towners. The view from the street and lookout platforms is very familiar to me (and still fun).
But on that day in 2010, I suddenly found myself up 4 stories on a rooftop deck, looking at the same buildings, rivers, and neighborhoods I thought I knew and feeling like I was looking at a completely different scene.
It fascinated me that moving 40 feet made something familiar look brand new. As I stood at the railing pondering this, instead of mingling with the strangers who could afford a ticket to this fundraiser (unlike me who had been gifted a ticket), Pittsburgh’s iconic bridges were part of the view. I realized that the city would look completely differently from each of those bridges. And so I decided to start walking the bridges to continue increasing my perspectives and awareness of Pittsburgh.
The rest, as they say, is history. I thought it would be just a summer project. However, it has been so interesting….and there are still so many bridges to walk….that it has become a life habit. In the meantime, I have started getting interested in the structures themselves, not just the views from them.
Two days after I told this story to my aunt, I walked across part of the East Liberty Station Pedestrian Bridge (Bridge Madness Champion 2024) at sunset. This is not the first time I’ve been on this bridge going about my daily business when I needed to stop to take photos of the view of sunset. In this instance, I then immediately walked down the steps to the busway station below. My experience of the sunset changed completely with the change in perspective. From the bridge, it seemed spectacular, but at the sidewalk below I no longer recognized it as something worthy of notice.
Have you ever noticed a time when a slight shift in perspective changed how you viewed your surroundings?
Sunset from the bridge 2025Sunset from the sidewalk below the bridge 2025
Three years ago, Pittsburgh’s Fern Hollow Bridge collapsed on a cold and icy morning. Since then, I have periodically checked in on the status of the new bridge, the fallout from the collapse including the Mayor’s new Commission on Infrastructure Asset Reporting and Investment, and the condition of other bridges, particularly those closed for safety reasons since the Fern Hollow Bridge collapsed.
At my last check-in one year ago, the National Transportation Safety Board’s investigation was still on-going with the latest update on their website a year old. The investigation wrapped up shortly after and the NTSB’s final report was issued in March 2024 (WTAE, March 22, 2024). Unsurprisingly, the report found that the City’s failure to act on the maintenance and repair recommendations from years of inspections led to the structural failure of the bridge. Specifically:
On Friday, January 28, 2022, about 6:37 a.m. eastern standard time, the Fern Hollow Bridge, which carried Forbes Avenue over the north side of Frick Park in Pittsburgh, Allegheny County, Pennsylvania, experienced a structural failure. As a result, the 447-foot-long bridge fell about 100 feet into the park below. The collapse began when the transverse tie plate on the southwest bridge leg failed due to extensive corrosion and section loss. The corrosion and section loss resulted from clogged drains that caused water to run down bridge legs and accumulate along with debris at the bottom of the legs, which prevented the development of a protective rust layer or patina. Although repeated maintenance and repair recommendations were documented in many inspection reports, the City of Pittsburgh failed to act on them, leading to the deterioration of the fracture-critical transverse tie plate and the structural failure of the bridge.
Immediately after the Fern Hollow Bridge collapsed, the City created a Commission on Infrastructure Asset Reporting and Investment. However, it took Mayor Gainey about 18 months to nominate any commissioners and another 5 months for the commission to have its first meeting on December 5, 2023. Despite finally existing, it still hasn’t been added yet to the city’s website listing all Boards and Commissions. It does have an official city website though. The first report from the Commission to City Council was issued on June 5, 2024. In the cover letter, the Commissioners acknowledge that they are charged with reporting to council at least twice a year.
The Charles Anderson Bridge was immediately closed to vehicular traffic on February 1, 2023. On November 4, 2024, the bridge was closed to bicycle and pedestrian traffic as construction was finally underway for rehabilitation of the bridge (the process started in 2019). The Panther Hollow Overpass is also being improved while the traffic is detoured. (Pittsburgh Engage project page)
Pittsburgh’s Swindell Bridge, which closed initially from July to September 2022 due to falling debris. The expectation was that repairs that summer would enable the bridge to fully reopen to traffic. Instead the latest repairs seem to have uncovered more issues. The bridge will eventually undergo a full rehabilitation, which will require another closure during construction. However, that will not be for some time as the bridge is still in the preliminary design phase. (Pittsburgh Engage page)
The “complete overhaul” of the South Negley Avenue Bridge announced in 2022 (CBS, February 25, 2022). The city still does not have a project page for this bridge, though both sidewalks have been closed for safety (Mayor’s Press Release, June 6, 2024; Mayor’s Press Release, June 17, 2024). The obvious deterioration on this bridge and lack of movement on repairs leaves the way open for speculation on whether we will have another bridge disaster in our city sooner rather than later.
Rehabilitation on the Swinburne Bridge remains on pause until after the Charles Anderson Bridge is reopened as the Swinburne Bridge is part of the detour route. (Pittsburgh Engage page)
Preliminary engineering remains ongoing for the rehabilitation of the 28th Street Bridge. (Pittsburgh Engage page)
Preliminary engineering has started for the California Avenue Bridge rehabilitation. (Pittsburgh Engage page)
While the number of “Engage pages” about Pittsburgh bridges has grown in the last year (full list below the map), it still does not align with all the bridges closed fully or partially. In addition to the bridges mentioned above, the most recent addition to the list of bridges with issues, but no Engage page is the Panther Hollow Bridge that closed to vehicles October 2024 due to the results of its most recent inspection (see 2024 Bridge Disasters Actual and Pending for more).
In national bridge news, Congress fully funded the reconstruction of the collapsed Francis Scott Key Bridge before the end of December (Governor Moore’s statement, December 21, 2024), contrary to my prediction on Funding Bridges (December 15, 2024).
Photos: Other Bridges
Historic Pittsburgh Bridge Disasters
According to Bob Regan’s 2006 book “The Bridges of Pittsburgh,” Pittsburgh is no stranger to bridge disasters:
1845 – The original Smithfield Street Bridge burned down
1851 – The 16th Street Bridge burned down
1865 – Two spans of the 16th Street Bridge was washed away in a flood
late 1880s – The 6th Street/St. Clair Street Bridge burned down
1903 – The Wabash Bridge collapsed during construction
1918 – The 16th Street Bridge burned down (again)
1921 – The 30th Street Bridge burned down
1927 – The Mount Washington Roadway Bridge collapsed during construction
Map of bridges discussed in the Bridge Collapse series:
My day job for the last decade is working with zoning ordinances. *Yawn,* right? Except I find it surprisingly intriguing. For example, when I visited Grove City in 2022, I was in the middle of writing new model sign regulations for zoning. The puzzle pieces for this effort included incorporating Supreme Court rulings on the constitutionality of sign regulations and making the regulations easier to understand and follow.1 So signs were already on my mind when I encountered Grove City’s parking sculptures and my brain exploded.
Besides the century-old battle between planners and billboard companies, the most difficult thing about sign regulations is the definition of sign. Art cannot be regulated by zoning, but signs can. However, there is a lot of grey between art and sign. Grove City exemplifies that grey area.
Grove City has a series of outdoor sculptures that incorporate directional signage for public parking areas. Based on a strict interpretation of Pittsburgh’s definition of sign (which interpretation frequently got me into arguments with my boss when I was zoning staff for Pittsburgh), the minute any component of a piece of artwork contains a sign, the whole piece of art becomes a sign (see Pittsburgh’s Zoning Ordinance Section 919.01.C.1). The phrase “or any structure designed to carry the above visual information” supports my interpretation that Grove City’s parking sculptures would not be permitted in Pittsburgh because they would not comply with the sign regulations.
Fortunately, Grove City’s zoning ordinance measures a sign only on the “separate individual letters, words, or graphic elements on the background” (see Grove City Zoning Ordinance Section 702, page 72 of 84 in the PDF). As the structure doesn’t count in the calculation of sign area in Grove City, I can now understand how parking sign sculptures could be created without violating their own ordinance.
If you are a frequent visitor to urbantraipsing, you know I don’t typically take selfies. However, I did with the first parking sculpture I encountered in Grove City to provide a sense of scale. These are substantial structures. I am standing in the selfie…and, for those who don’t know me in person, I am 6 feet tall.
I succeeded in creating a model ordinance that balanced brevity with thoroughness and usability with constitutionality. Economy, PA, (Chapter 180, Article XIV) and McCandless, PA, (Article 1305) are two of the municipalities that have adopted this ordinance to their specific needs. ↩︎
I bought my first car in 2021. It ended up having a lot of problems. The first time I tried to drive to Erie, it started shaking like it was going to spontaneously break apart into a million pieces, just like a cartoon. Instead, it went into limp home mode and I turned around at the next exit, which was the middle of nowhere. After several repairs and a period of no further incidents, the following year I was ready to try again. But first, I tested the car to see if it could handle Rt. 79.
I knew of Grove City as an exit about halfway to Erie and as the closest outlet mall to Pittsburgh. I decided to aim for the actual Borough of Grove City1 as a destination to explore while testing my car’s ability to handle the speed limit and hills of Rt. 79. Naturally, since I arrived safely and knew nothing about the town, I set out to walk the bridges.
A town of 2.7 square miles and less than 8,000 residents, Grove City has several bridges over Wolf Creek and elsewhere. Unfortunately, the town’s premier pedestrian bridge, Rainbow Bridge (pictured above), was closed due to construction activities in the area. I discovered a second, unmapped pedestrian bridge over a small tributary to Wolf Creek, which I crossed only to see a sign on the other side claiming the bridge was not a throughway and directing people to use the sidewalks on the street to reach Grove City College’s main campus.
While the bridges themselves were structurally uninteresting, except for the Rainbow Bridge, I visited a throughout cross-section of town in walking them….which is the point of my bridge walking habit. My path took me through the college campus, the now less prominent industrial area, the large homes built for the boss class of the industries, the small homes built for the industrial workers, and the business district, both the car oriented portion and the historic portion. There are several bridgeless neighborhoods that I did not visit, but even without them, I learned a lot about the town in a short space of time.
Grove City Bridges
Grove City Cross-Section
I don’t know if this is true in other states, but Pennsylvania lets municipalities of any size call themselves cities. ↩︎
This season is the 10th anniversary of the Steubenville1 Nutcracker Village. Each year, the town of Steubenville, OH, sets out a growing number of human-sized nutcrackers each individually decorated. While they are advertised as 6-feet tall, there is some variation in their heights. A few, including “Santa Claus” and “Henry Harley Hank,” tower over the others. A few, including “Jane Banks” and “Michael Banks,” who I’m pretty sure are standing outside a bank, are eye-to-eye for children.
Over the course of the first three years of the Nutcracker Village 150 Nutcrackers were made. Today, there are over 200. (Learn more at the official website.) Shelly2 and I went on a mini-adventure after New Year’s to see these Nutcrackers and test how strong I am for traveling and for urbantraipsing after over a year with Long COVID. While I am tired and sore, it is a manageable level of fatigue, giving me hope that in 2025 I will be able to resume a moderate level of urbantraipsing and travel while continuing to share posts from previous trips.
Between the two of us, Shelly and I photographed 145 of the nutcrackers and saw at least 40 more (we were cold and tired toward the end of our walk and passed by many without stopping to photograph them). Below I share a sampling of our favorite nutcrackers. There is quite a range of nutcrackers from the standard looking “Junior” to the punny “Dr. Cara Lot” and “Fashionutsa Holly,” the far left nutcracker in the window display, to the ornate “By Way of Budapest.” A wind storm that passed through the region a couple weeks ago damaged the Ohio State nutcracker, our waitress’s favorite, so we stopped at Drosselmeyer’s Nutcracker Shoppe where I posed with the ornament version of it.
While Steubenville is only 45 miles from Pittsburgh, making this a very easy day trip adventure, we chose to spend the night. This enabled us to better manage my energy level and to explore more of the town. We enjoyed gyro, egg, and cheese pitas for breakfast from Yorgo’s Gyros & Potatoes and I got a mint chai pick-me-up from Leonardo’s Coffeehouse, the headquarters for the Nutcracker Village. I never would have thought that mint would go with chai, but it was a delicious combination.
This is my second urbantraipsing visit to Steubenville. In 2017, while Dad and I were exploring bridges along the Ohio River on our way to see the full eclipse in Tennessee, we stopped in Steubenville to walk the Market Street Bridge. ↩︎
Shelly is the host and executive producer of the podcast With Bowl and Spoon. We started traveling together the summer of 2023 when we went to Erie. She’s a fun travel companion and great at posing with the Steubenville nutcrackers and Erie frogs and fish. ↩︎
Bridges are a vital connectors that enable us to move around as we live our lives. Frequently, we don’t even realize there’s a bridge there…at least not until there’s a bridge disaster. Over the last few years, there have been several bridge disasters, some due to accidents, like the collapse of Baltimore’s Francis Scott Key Bridge in March 2024 after being struck by a malfunctioning container ship, and some due to deferred maintenance, like the collapse of Pittsburgh’s Fern Hollow Bridge on an icy, cold morning in January 2022.
We have seen recently that when there is motivation, the missing links caused by bridge disasters can be repaired in record time. Pittsburgh’s Fern Hollow Bridge was completely rebuilt and opened to traffic 11 months after collapsing, instead of the usual multi-year process to design and build a new bridge. In Philadelphia, when an elevated section of I-95 collapsed after an accident in 2023, the repaired section reopened to traffic 12 days later, compared to 26 days for a similar situation in Oakland, CA. (PBS News, June 23, 2023)
Despite President Biden’s repeated request to Congress to expedite funds to replace Baltimore’s Francis Scott Key Bridge, Republicans in Congress are possibly motivated to delay so that President-elect Trump will get the credit for rebuilding this crucial transportation link. (Fox News Baltimore, November 8, 2024; WCBM, November 8, 2024) Unfortunately, Trump does not have a good track record for funding bridges.
It can be easy to overlook during the buzz of election season that there is often a delay between when a law is signed or a policy adopted and when the effects of that law or policy are felt. Bridges encapsulate that well. The memorable moments are when a bridge closes or collapses (typically viewed negatively) and when a bridge reopens (typically viewed positively). The moment when funds are allocated, the moment enabling a bridge to reopen at a later date, is not often remembered.
For example, it was front page news when the new Greenfield Bridge reopened in 2017, when Trump was President, but the funding that constructed the bridge was allocated when Obama was President. Similarly, the Charles Anderson Bridge has been closed to traffic for most of President Biden’s term in office, to the annoyance of many, but that is also when the funds were found to rehabilitate the bridge expanding the life of this historic bridge by decades. However, the reopening is projected to be in 2026, in the middle of Trump’s second term as President.
Assuming two years as the average time from funding to reopening on bridge reconstruction and rehabilitation projects, I pulled the Federal Highway Administration’s numbers for bridge construction and rehabilitation in Pittsburgh that would have been funded under the leadership of Presidents George W. Bush, Barack Obama, and Donald Trump. (FHWA InfoBridge) Given the delay between funding and completion, it is too early to measure the impact of funding under President Joseph Biden’s leadership.
Bush: 36 bridges total = 4.5 bridges per year
Obama: 76 bridges total = 9.5 bridges per year
Trump: 9 bridges total = 2.25 bridges per year
Bridge maintenance and repair rarely happens without support from federal funding. When the bipartisan infrastructure bill passed under President Biden’s leadership runs out of funds, or those funds get diverted to Project 2025, I am skeptical that new funding for bridges will be found under the leadership of President-elect Trump. Therefore, I expect more bridge disasters or, at the very least, more indefinite bridge closures in the coming years.
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).
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.
Adrenaline is a powerful force. When I arrived in Vancouver in 2016, I bounded with energy despite only having slept 4 hours in the previous 36. After dropping my stuff off at my lodgings, I rented a bike and rode like a woman on a mission along the waterfront trail. Part of that mission was to burn off the adrenaline so that I would be able to sleep that night.
However, revisiting my photos and my recollections of this trip to write about the bridges and greenery, I’ve been haunted by the thought that there was an additional mission to that bike ride. I distinctly remember biking the trail along False Creek, but I have no photos from this excursion (the photo above is False Creek from Granville Bridge, nowhere near Olympic Village). Perhaps I was too focused on my mission? One line from my travel journal buried in a flurry of thoughts on urban design reminded me that the destination of that bike ride was the Olympic Village from when Vancouver hosted the 2010 Olympics.
In my journal reflecting on the city’ newer architecture that could have been anywhere, I wrote: “In biking along the coastal trail, there were several parts that I felt could have been Cardiff or London. For instance, the part around Yaletown felt like the Cardiff Wharf development, though this one melded into its surroundings on all sides unlike Cardiff’s which was just plopped there. The area around Olympic Village and parts also around Yaletown felt a lot like the part of London past the Tower Bridge on the southern shore.” (Photos of the area around Tower Bridge are below and, of course, the building that I remember as being what I probably was thinking of in Vancouver is not one I photographed.)
My interest in the Olympic Village came from the same place as my on-going interest in World Fairs and Urban Renewal. These are large-scale developments that cities pursue “for the greater good” to attract tourists and others outside their boundaries while ignoring or actively harming their residents. Despite the intent, the end result is often more harm than good. For example, the Olympics and World Fairs are typically promoted as events that will bring in extensive revenues to the city, but most lose money due to the large expenditures required to build the necessary facilities. A successful Fair or Olympics is the one that breaks even.
In my Comparative International Urbanism course in college, I wrote a paper on three large-scale redevelopments in London, including the Olympic Village from the 2012 summer games. I intended to visit the Olympic Village when I visited London that May, but I got distracted by bridge walking. The research I did for that paper on Olympic Villages highlighted the inequities inflicted on residents in the construction of these developments. Based on my paper, over 200 local businesses and nearly 1,000 residents were evicted for London’s Olympic Village.
While I can’t find my notes, I seem to recollect that researchers featured Vancouver as the city whose Olympic Village created the least harm for existing residents and most seamlessly integrated into city life after the games and athletes left. Something I definitely would have wanted to see while in Vancouver, but I was operating on too little sleep to take photos to prove I was there.