Bridge

This is a familiar sight. I grew up a few blocks from this trestle bridge. We used to cross it every summer to get to the barges moored in the inlet on the other side. We would steal a dockline from the barges and use it to hang a rope-swing from the trestle for swimming in the Clackamas River. The rope would last most of the summer until someone would get hurt and the police would come cut it down.