Our Bridge..28º

Today seems like a good time to include this essay that I wrote nearly 10 years ago...The bridge was a special part of Barton Heights history and it was indeed a sad day, watching the fire that signaled its demise...Hugs To All...OWAV:)

Barton Heights Foot Bridge

 A small mill once sat beside the Wallowa River not far below the Wallowa Lake damn.  I imagine they milled lumber for some of the surrounding houses and barns. Above the river in the early 1900’s one to five acre parcels were sold and Joseph’s first subdivision was formed with houses soon to follow.  With surplus lumber a footbridge was built from the mill spanning both the irrigation ditch and the river to a trail leading to Barton Heights.  By using this bridge the people had fast and easy access to the town of Joseph.

       Jumping ahead many years to 1973, the year we arrived in Joseph, the bridge still standing and usable was in a state of disrepair.  Our children walked over it every morning on their way to school.  Now, what was left of the old millpond was a frog pond where our son spent many hours with his new friends catching frogs.  A perfect playground for little boys. 

       We worried about the rickety bridge, but until we received a letter from Joseph City didn’t really think about doing anything about it.  It seems that because the bridge joined our land to the city we were responsible for it and had to do something about it.  After talking with our neighbors we decided to attend a city council meeting and stressed the importance of the bridge, not only for our convenience but the historical side of it as well.  They agreed to let us use a CETA crew for the labor and the lumber was donated by Monschke’s mill.  Down came the old bridge with the high span and two new lower bridges one over the river and the other over the ditch, were built.  Everyone on Barton Heights agreed to help with the upkeep and we used the bridge for the next twenty years.

       Walking to work in the early morning hours the bridge became a special place for me.  I loved to stand on it listening to the leaves rustle in the breeze, the water rushing beneath my feet.  Maybe a squirrel or a bird would bid me good morning as the sun brightened my path.

       But things started changing on and near the bridge, parts of the railing were pulling off and sometimes it would get vandalized.  It was harder and harder to keep it repaired so it would be safe.  When I walked home from work there were signs along the river of small campfires, cigarette butts, beer cans and garbage.  I started carrying a bag to pick up the litter on my way home from work.  We put up no trespassing signs but they did no good.  It wasn’t the same place and I started walking by way of the road.

       It seemed inevitable that this bridge also would have to come down.  After much thought, I talked to the city officials. They volunteered to tear the bridge down and burn the lumber. So now the road is the only way to Main Street. I can take the trail down to the river where it is again quiet and peaceful without any garbage strewn about and I know that tearing down the bridge was the right thing to do although it still brings a tear to my eye.

Water Color of the Barton Heights foot bridge, by Angie Toothman.