It lets you in. It lets you out. On the opposite side and up the hill was were all the cars were parked. It's where my car was parked as I took this photograph. From where I stood that day, it represented the end of a couple of hours in the woods. By this time, I may be a little tired. But I am certainly pleased with my American morning. The air was warm. Nature's abundance had been on display, even there at the bridge, with greenery all around and the sun beaming down, as I’m on the way back home.
It's almost impossible to step on that large pedestrian bridge and not anticipate the opportunity to look over the sides and down at the Reedy River. I have never been so distracted or so inside my own head that I did not stop at some point, usually the high point of the bridge, and look out to see what I have seen so many times, up and down river for several hundred feet, before the river curves out of sight. I've seen the water low and slow and I've seen the water high and raging. And I've seen the river and its most natural state, flowing along at a pleasant pace, with ducks paddling around down there, looking for food.
I've taken dozens of photos from the bridge, both up and down river. On this day I decided to take a photo of the bridge. I've done that a few times also, usually from the other side as I entered the park. So I decided to capture this side for once.
From time to time I have met a fellow hiker on the bridge. We would stop in exchange pleasantries. On rare occasions I would pass a fellow photographer there. We might talk about camera systems and things we've seen in the park.
There are a group of birders, some armed with binoculars and some armed with cameras, who frequent the park almost every week. I've been asked to join but politely refused. Walking around with a group of folks in the woods kind of defeats the whole point of being there in the first place. In fact, if I see a hiker up ahead and can find a way to avoid meeting up with him, I might make a detour onto another trail. The only exception to that is the occasional attractive young woman I might see hiking or running the trails. No harm in saying good morning, under those particular circumstances. Apparently, on a few occasions, I have accidentally slipped into stealth mode and the attractive young hiker does not see me at all. I hate when that happens.
In my many years of hiking in Lake Conestee Nature Preserve I have never met an unpleasant person. I guess there's something about being in the woods that does not appeal to folks whose nature is other than positive.
It has been a long time since I walked across the bridge in the photograph. My health issues and the Covid-19 shutdowns and the hot weather have kept me out of the park for quite a while. I know that the new bridge which connects my favorite trail loop is now in place. And I'm pretty sure that the lookout platform near those tall trees with heron nests has been completed.
It is my hope and desire to feel those wooden slats under my new boots as soon as the weather cools and chases away all the bugs. On that day I will park in that parking lot, I will walk down that hill, and I will step on the that bridge. I will feel those wooden slats under my feet and hear that soft comforting sound of wood against shoe sole. And I will walk to the high spot. I will move to the edge and look out over the railing and down at the river. And no matter whether I've seen a quite similar view on some previous morning, I will look at the winding Reedy River below me with appreciation.
Then, having taken in that magnificent view of the river, I will turn to continue my walk, smiling in anticipation of what awaits me on the other side of that bridge.