February 15, 2012 was a parting of an era. It was the drearily cloudy day that the 2
million pound 89-year-old center span of the Memorial Bridge linking Portsmouth,
NH to Kittery, ME, would disappear down the Piscataqua River to eventually end
as scrap metal in the Boston area. I
liken it to a time when all of us living creatures here on earth must give way
to new lives that will follow our demise.
A new bridge will be in place in a year or two.
The crowds were smaller than the week before when the span was
lowered onto the Cape Cod barge. Last
week, there were technical delays, delays due to the timing of the tides, and
the needed rest of the workers.
Additionally, there was the nerve-wracking time pressure from the 72-hour
Coast Guard permit for closing the waterway at the bridge. After 3 days of spectators waiting in the
cold for the bridge to be floated away, the hearty who endured were blessed with
the spectacle of the bridge being floated away the night of February 9th.
It rested for several hours at the Portsmouth Scrap Metal Facility. The next day, it was docked beside the rest
of the bridge at Prescott Park until today.
At about 1pm today, the tugboats maneuvered the barge and bridge span
into the main part of the river and started the journey out toward Portsmouth
Harbor.
After taking several pictures of the initial part of the cruise, I
raced to the center deck over the water at Prescott Park to catch more photos as
the flotilla headed outbound. As the tugboats pushed the barge and bridge past
the spectators on the decks, a lady started singing “Auld Lang Syne,” without
musical accompaniment. She had a
beautiful voice, but at first, a couple of people looked as if they thought the
singer was out of place. Then, as the
flotilla cruised by, I think all were caught up in the moment. The lady continued singing as the barge
floated past 4 Tree Island, the Naval Shipyard, and Pierce Island. I felt a little chocked up at the scene of
the abandoned bridge floating past the abandoned Naval Prison. My eyes watered, but perhaps it was merely
from the cool gentle breeze. Then again,
perhaps it was from the sentimental spirit I inherited from my late mother and
father. It was a parting I shall
remember for the rest of my days.
Linwood
Wickett
February 15,
2012
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