GATE

Crossing Bridges

Before the journey ahead,  you look at your destination. All around you find yourself wondering is it worth the adventure. 

View

Looking overhead at the cars speeding to and from you. Cyclist goes by in the narrow road you take. Looking high above at the suspension wires wondering will it hold. You look to the side and see vast oceans to the left and right. You see surfers in the distant, cars parked to the side. If you look closely, you see tiny fishermen on the pier.

Accidents Waiting To Happen

Still you journey ahead, as riders whisk by. You hope that they don’t strike when you're not looking. A mid-bridge collision could happen and the fall is a doozy. Saw two almost-hits just on a short five minute walk. Strong gust could find them crashing to the left oceans below or to right to speeding cars. 

You notice the 45 mph speed limit sign ahead. You notice the yellow telephone with a sign above it, “There is Hope. Your Fall would be Fatal and Tragic.” For Jumpers, one guesses. Fatal and tragic, whoah. Depressing, Fatal that is given. Tragic, no happy memory. No glory, no meaning, just infamy and sadness. 

Ah, there is Alcatraz Island. Its difficult to see. Fog. People say one should go. However, a prison, a place where liberty is removed. Freedom is lost. A place of fights and hardest criminals. Doesn't seem to be a place that one would  want to spend time at. That idea doesn't sit well.

Blisters

Midway you feel the blisters forming at your feet. You hope that this is not an early sign of diabetic necropsy. You are reminded of the simple mistake of not taking your shoes off at the beach. Forced to wear dress shoes on your four mile journey. Oh well, it is what is. Next time you remind yourself, take your shoes off at the beach. C’est la vie. We all make mistakes.

You see walkers ahead of you, making this bridge trek. You see soccer moms and elderly matriarchs, hands pumping in hopes to make their figure youthful. Cyclist race by in spandex and helmet on head. Colorful jersey with names like Trek and US Postal speed on by. One hears the deep, heavy breathing as they pass on by. Faces sweating. Chests heaves up and down. Legs churn, propelling riders ahead.

Look to the side and see the wake of ship passing by. The ripples of water indicates someone has passed. There at the distance. A building perched on the rocks looking over the Pacific. One wonders, “Why there?” Suspect it was made to house the builders of the bridge. Must have read a snippet from the San Francisco Eyewitness tourist guidebook.

Vision Tunneled. Vision Blurred

Take photos of all around. Three hundred sixty degrees. Your insides just seem to want focus on the task at hand, not wanting to look around. Perhaps its vertigo. Head straight focusing on your destination. Check one's heart rate wondering if the pace of one's walk or one's fear of falling is causing it to race.  One looks ahead, almost there. Almost home.

Wrong Turn

Think back at the wrong turn made earlier. This is the way, one said. The structure from the gated fence. Marvel at the symmetry of the metal suspension below. The cars overhead causes the structure below to bounce like shock absorbers. Metal gates, barb wire, and video cameras—stay out and the bridge says, "I am watching you." 

Looking Back

Think back. The sailor statue looks over the bridge. Hands in pocket and tote bag to the side. Plaques of Merchant Marines, Navy, Coast Guard, and Marines encircle the distant-looking traveler. His stance connotes determination and resolve. 

The bag says this journey will take some time. There are only essentials in the bag. Stuff that one needs to carry. Not the many bags that one’s carries on a long trip. It is one sole bag, not light, but not heavy. One gets that feel that is not weighing him down. The sense of quiet determination speaks. 

Holding On to What's Important

At times, one wonders if this is the stance one needs to take in the journey ahead. Keeping the essentials at hand.  Not bogged down with emotional baggage. Just holding on to the stuff truly needed. No more worries of the past. Just shoes, pants, and a toothbrush. A good book. Perhaps a good memory here and there. Not looking back. Just look ahead. 

Quiet determined silence at the adventure ahead. May look daunting. May look distant. May feel bigger than what it is. No "May's" about it. It is big. It is distant. It is daunting. That's the fun part.

Senses On

Can still feel the blisters at one's feet. That irritating rubbing of skin and socks. Raises a lump filled with fluid. One looks to the left, then right. Remembering the statue at one's back. Cars, bicyclist, runners, walkers, surfers, oceans, signs, suspensions lines, and sea. Feel the cool ocean breeze on your face. One's heart races and one's hearing tunes in. Still one taste that energy bar earlier had for this journey. One looks back at the statue. One looks at the distance traveled. One looks at destination a few steps ahead. One smiles unintentionally as that sense of completion warms.

What's Next?

Taa Daa, Done. Finished. Excelsior. There one stands for a moment. Catching a breath. Looking around. Take a photo of the Golden Gate. Marvel at the surfers, they are close now. Underneath one's feet. A few hundred feet below. Got that vertigo again. One's mini three minute staycation complete. One sees the journey ahead. Can’t see the statue now. Too far. Its there. Can’t see it from where one's at, but it is there. Journey was tiresome. It was thrilling. It had moments of anxiety and despair. It had a wonderful view. Humor, too. Looked overhead. Looked from below. Saw the many dangers. Thought to oneself, "Let’s do it again."

Here I Go.