The Forever Bridge

When I asked the Universe to help me lose weight, I was not expecting to be taught a lesson in humility, compulsion and bad judgment.

I turned down a very wrong path this evening...no, literally, a wrong path.

The river is raging right now and it's beautiful out. I thought I would rig up, sit down at the boulevard and fish. Rising water, fish live in the water...gotta be onto something, right?

No bites at the boulevard.

So in my infite wisdom I decided to park on the opposite side of the river, cross the bridge, walk along the highway and find a spot along the boardwalk--whose entrance I've half-heartedly been searching for since last summer--via a break in the fence I had seen on the way back from bowling tonight.

Break acquired, I started, pole in hand, along the river. I saw an official looking sign on one of the trees.

DROWNING HAZARD, RAPIDLY RISING WATER.

No bells, no whistles. Not until it was far too late to turn back.

About a quarter mile through weeds and thorns, it finally hit me...I had a ten foot tall barbed fence on my left, and a raging, rising river on my right.

Shit.

Should I turn back?

No, I kept thinking. The water wasn't rising all that quickly and I figured where there was one break in the fence, there would, at some point, be another.

And there was.

I emerged from behind the fence, relieved, and decided that I would turn around and walk back along the highway to my car, this time in safety.

The only problem was I was now coralled into a construction zone , this time between two ten-foot fences approximately five feet apart. I wasn't too fond of the fact that I was now trespassing but I literally had nowhere else to go.

Seriously, officer, all I want to do is get out.

Finally, I cleared the construction zone and very legally, adamantly, excitedly, headed down to the river bank having finally found the entrance to the boardwalk. I would get to fish this evening after all.

Yeah, no.

I cast a couple times, got a wicked tangle and finally decided to pack it in. I was relieved that all I would need to do was cross the next bridge and start the long walk back to my car on the opposite side of the river.

Yeah, no.

There was, of course, a bridge, but I would have needed to scale a ten-foot wall with a fishing rod in one hand in order to start across it.

I knew that there had to be a climbout at the next bridge because I had seen people emerging from it in my travels, but it just seemed so far away. I was tired. My feet hurt, and it seemed that I was making no progress whatsoever. No matter how fast I walked, I never seemed to get any closer to that goddamn bridge.

I dubbed it the Forever Bridge for that reason.

A mile later, I began the 1.5 mile walk back along the river on the opposite side. When I arrived at my car, I packed my fishing rod into my trunk (relieved that despite fishing in the dark I had managed not to lose the lure I started out with) and drove the route to see how far out of my way I had gone to find a spot that wasn't there.

2.9 miles.

I should hope that future fishing endeavors will be less emotionally intense or physically demanding. I will, nonetheless, be back at the boulevard as the warmer weather approaches.

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