Once upon a time...

When I got the chance to display some of my work at the Howson Library, I started going through the 20-some-odd thousand images I'd taken over the past six years to come up with a dozen or so I thought worthy enough to show. One of which, without question, was of a little footbridge on the Greenbelt along Barton Creek, between the 360 access & Gus Fruh. It was a cool little bridge.

Key word: was.

The Greenbelt is one of my favorite places (if not the most favorite place) in Austin. Especially when Barton Creek is full & running fast. The little bridge was nothing special; two large cedar cross beams with some planks nailed to it, with gnarly cedar handrails. But still...it was a cool little bridge...

A few years ago (the folder's dated 7/31/2007), we'd had a spat of nasty weather. I'd ventured back out to the Greenbelt to take a look at the water level...Barton Creek can get a bit rambunctious at times...and was heading heading to the falls near Gus Fruh, when I found...

I didn't know what to do or think. Geez, the weather couldn't have been that bad. The past two years had been awful hot & dry, though. But bad enough to take out my bridge? My heart sank as I tried to put it together. I knew it really didn't matter as to how it happened; all that mattered was it was gone. Surely the city would make it right again...

A year went by...all the city did was put up a detour sign for folks to bypass the bridge...no effort was made to repair it, until, one day (2/11/2009, to be exact)...

It was one of those "wtf?" moments. There was a scrawl on the side, "Jimmy's Eagle Project 1-24-09". Evidently, Jimmy had taken it upon himself to...repair, for lack of a better word, my little bridge. I'm sure his intentions were well-meaning, but you know what they say about good intentions. I cursed Jimmy for the longest time for destroying what character the little bridge once had.

Now, I'd taken the original shot back in March of 2006 (thankfully, I still have the original image file, complete with EXIF information). I had, on several occasions, searched for similar images of the little bridge, and found nothing. Surely I wasn't the only person to have photographed it. At the time, I was pleased to think that I was the only one. I played around with the file, creating a rather nice black & white version (someone once said it reminded them of Ansel Adams; I didn't know whether to be flattered or just laugh). It's hanging on the wall in my room. I'd considered taking it as part of my library exhibit, only for display, of course (I'd never sell it); I'm still unsure whether to take it or not. But the more I thought about it, the more I came to realize the possibility that, just maybe, I was the only one who had photographed it. If that was true, it's a sad realization; no one else thought anything more about that little bridge that just a means to cross a gully that sometimes had water in it, but was dry most of the time. That no one else appreciated the rustic character it had. That no one else thought, "Gee, what a cool little bridge."