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It’s a view to die for.
For a second or two I thought it might come to that, but it was just the acrophobia talking.
The Poughkeepsie-Highland Railroad Bridge is perfectly safe, and offers some breathtaking views of the Hudson River. Someday soon, if Walkway Over the Hudson (WOTH) has its way, we’ll be able to go up there whenever we want – and enjoy the vistas without signing an insurance waiver first.
WOTH’s board chairman, Fred Schaeffer, invited me to join a contingent of Common Council and Waterfront Advisory Committee members and candidates on the railroad bridge on the morning of June 11.
The project to turn the abandoned structure into a pedestrian and bicycle trail has been infused with renewed energy under Schaeffer’s leadership in the past year, and Schaeffer has been planning to lead the various interested parties on trips up the bridge. One glimpse of the views from the bridge, he assured me, would make anyone a believer.
He didn’t have to ask me twice.
An engineering marvel
When it was erected in 1889, Schaeffer said, the railroad bridge was an engineering marvel – “the eighth wonder of the world,” he said. Opening soon after the Brooklyn Bridge, it was taller, deeper and longer than that legendary structure, and riveted together by hand.
For a time, it was believed to be the longest bridge in the world – 6,767 feet from the hills of Highland to the Northside of Poughkeepsie.
The bridge connected New England rail lines to the American West, and trains ran across it until 1974, when a fire destroyed most of the wooden railroad ties on the Poughkeepsie side.
For that reason, Schaeffer said, the bridge looks a little barren on the Poughkeepsie side – all that remains is the steel frame. On the Highland side, the wood and the railroad tracks are largely intact, but when the project is finished, the entire span will be paved over with something sturdier.
The WOTH plan has been kicking around for a number of years, but Schaeffer said it languished under the leadership of previous chairman Bill Seppe, who was determined to complete the project without accepting public money.
Schaeffer said the current board of directors is holding to no such limitations, and is actively seeking funding from New York State and the federal government along with private sources like the Dyson Foundation. He pegged the ultimate cost of the project between $3 million and $5 million.
“We want to see this done in our lifetime,” he said. “We’re going to use professionals, hire people with insurance and do it right.”
If it’s completed, the bridge would connect the network of trails along abandoned rail lines on either side of the Hudson, and it might one day be possible to walk from Hopewell Junction to Walden without setting foot on a street or sidewalk.
High above the Hudson
For our little adventure last weekend, we trekked over to Highland, parked on the side of the road near some kind of Central Hudson outpost and marched through a meadow to the railroad trestle, where a wooden platform and storage shed serve as the gateway to the bridge.
For Councilmen John Tkazyik and Steve Horning, that little platform was about as far as they got – fear of heights did them in before they even got started. But I won’t needle them too hard, because I nearly didn’t make it myself.
When you step out on the bridge, you stay to the right, on a pathway of metal grating like you find in Manhattan sidewalks. “Don’t look down,” the bridge veterans tell you. “Look straight ahead.” To the left are ties and rails, and to the right is the steelwork and railings that run alongside the bridge.
As you walk along the trestle, which runs about 500 feet long, you’re mostly surrounded by trees, passing over hills, embankments and even a road or two. There’s a little platform around the 500-foot mark, and beyond that, the bridge stretches out over the river and you’re in the open air, with astonishing views of Poughkeepsie, the Mid-Hudson Bridge – and the rippling surface of the Hudson River, 212 feet below.
It was at this point that vertigo set in.
A phobia of heights is by definition an irrational fear. I knew the bridge was strong enough to hold a pair of freight trains, but it took the gentle coaxing of WOTH board member Judy Moran (and the prospect of explaining to my editors why I hadn’t taken any pictures) to nudge me out to the platform at 1,000 feet where a gaggle of politicians and their families had already gathered.
Needless to say, it was worth it. I’m not sure the photos do it justice; it was a hazy summer day, and the rows of abandoned power lines loom larger in front of the lens than they do in the full panorama. But the completed walkway will be truly inspiring on a clear day.
WOTH offers a quote from Nancy Hammond, councilwoman from the Town of Lloyd, that sums the experience up best: “When I was on the bridge, I was in awe of the world we live in.”
Just don’t look down.
