Furywork and I decided to cruise on down to check out an old railroad bridge that by all outward appearances seemed to be abandoned. Little did we know that the thing was heavy with train traffic and apparently served as a known homeless shelter.

It was a rather cool evening and we headed out around 8PM. We were just cruising some sites that Bakunin had made a list of and checking out other places of interest. The first stop on the list was this old railroad bridge.

It's a steel beamed and riveted masterpiece dating back to 1906. (We can't tell you exactly where it is, but you can see it from a major highway.) The thing is a marvel to behold and appears to be abandoned due to the amount of graffiti you can see at the top. At the top there is an old burnt-out equipment shack.

Now, you probably all know about my fear of heights, but even for the bravest of explorers, I wouldn't suggest the climb. It mainly has to do with the structural soundness of the thing. Almost one hundred years of exposure to the elements and heavy train traffic have done a number on this thing.

To get to the bridge, you have to pop over a little waist high fence cutely supplied by our favorite transit company, but there aren't ANY "No Trespassing" signs. You slip on over next to the river, (I believe it's the south branch of the Chicago), and approach the underbelly of the beast. We took the high road and immediately had to wait for a train to pass. It was amazing how many trains came across this bridge in the time we were there. After it passed, we headed for the steps on the bridge that lead up to the little shack on top. I could smell smoke at this point, but didn't see any fire.

NOTE: After this exploit, I seriously discourage any person from exploring this bridge due to safety issues, but more generally, I might discourage anyone from exploring all bridges in this"police state" otherwise referred to as the USA. (Yes, it's another shitty "post 911" thing!)

So now we have to watch out for trains and walk along the tracks on the bridge. You can see through the ties to the river below and some gaps are large enough to wedge your foot into. There is also that "all too familiar" danger of track switches just before you step onto the bridge. (You know, the ones in which people always get their foot trapped in movies!)

We make it to the stairs and start to climb. This is the only place I have seen weather exposed wood for steps instead of steel. If one breaks, well, there's nothing much to keep you from falling. We proceed cautiously to the top. Every step is traumatic for me and Furywork patiently follows. The closer to the top we get, the more rotten the wood appears to be. A step is completely missing about 10 steps from the landing. We reach the top and Furywork braves it across some planks to look into the little shack and snaps some shots on my digicam. I sit at the top of the landing. He wants to step inside and I absolutely beg him not to. I don't want to see one of my comrades plummet to the tracks below.  (Then, if you survive that you'll probably be run over by a train...DOH!) I almost always encourage people to do crazier stuff than I have the gumption to do, but the floors, landings and steps were all wood, obviously rotting and fire damaged. 50 or so feet off the ground, over live tracks, is no place to tempt fate.

So we made our way back down after a short time. We darted across the tracks and hid from a train we suddenly noticed until it passed. Then we went down the other side of the bridge where we met Louis.

I am always cautious and respectful of the homeless because some (not all) are mentally ill and of that small lot, some can be dangerous. (There are all those abandoned asylums and mental hospitals, you know! The patients didn't just disappear or miraculously get cured!)

I heard Louis saying something as we came down the railroad tie steps towards him. In his broken English, he said to be careful because there were nails. He had a can in one hand that he ate from and seemed to be cool. I extended my hand and with a friendly handshake, told him my name. Furywork followed.

Louis' home, (at least for now), was the shelter of the bridge and we respected that. There, he had cooked himself some chicken on a grill he had made from a small, rusty, metal barrel and a grill top. We told him that we were just curious people and that our intentions were not to report him or intrude. He was very friendly, polite and kind and allowed us to explore freely. Furywork talked to him for sometime while I looked around and took pictures of the place.

Between the bridge and some sort industrial building, there was a burnt-out ruin of a little building filled with rust covered objects and cinder covered wood. There was very little that was recognizable. A few metal cabinets, some plumbing, and that was about it. Everything else was a blend of rusty red and burnt black.

After walking around a bit I came back to Louis and Furywork and listened attentively to Louis' story. He was apparently a migrant farm worker who had intentions to head down to Florida for the winter to pick oranges. He had been recently accosted at a Greyhound bus station where the thugs had beaten him and stolen his wallet. He showed us the staple/stitches on his scalp and his hand bandaged in duct tape. Although he asked for nothing and went on to tell his story of mistreatment by bosses and co-workers, both Furywork and I gave him money which he gratefully accepted.

Furywork and I nosed around a little under the bridge and then exchanged fond farewells with Louis, wishing him the best of luck. We headed out the way we came, towards the terminal, and headed back across the bus stop to the car.

I had noticed a white vehicle that moved as we passed by, but thought that it was probably someone picking up someone from the terminal.  It pulled up closer behind us when a tall, middle aged, white man with white hair emerged and whistled at us. When we turned back he flashed a silver badge on what appeared to be a black wallet and called us back over. He and the younger driver said they were cops. The older man told usthat they were "the police", although of what species we know not. We never really got a good look at the badge.

They questioned us and why we had been back there. They said they were on the lookout for some people who were supposed to be coming through that way and told us that it was well-known that "dangerous people" lived under the bridge. I told him that there weren't any people back there and that we got curious when we smelled smoke. I told them that there weren't any trespassing signs posted also. They said they were just doing their job because people were uneasy now about people hanging around bridges. We pretended to understand. I offered them a peek inside my backpack in hopes that they'd leave us alone after seeing we didn't hav alcohol, drugs or firearms. All I had was my video camera and some paper.I pulled the digicam from my pocket and told them that we were taking pictures. The younger one asked to see them. Quickly thinking, I said that the camera wasn't working, turned it on and showed him the blank, white screen. (Yes, the LCD on my digicam is broken, but it still takes pictures!) After that, they were cool with us and let us go on our way.

Back in the car we tried to understand the situation.  It was sort of wierd. We joked about it all the way home wondering if we shouldn't have been less compliant or told them that we had smelled donuts under the bridge.

UPDATE: January 2003

As you can see from this photograph taken in January 2003,
the bridge has had the building on top removed, probably due to safety concerns.

LINKS

Semi-Official Volo Bogtrotters Homepage - Workin' on the Railroad
Yes, this guy actually worked at this bridge!
http://members.tripod.com/~NailThatCatfish/RAIL.html

~M