The Golden Gate Bridge in San Francisco first opened in 1937. This is article of the map from Popular Mechanics in 1931, showing both a drawing of the towers and maps of the area. It must have been amazing to see it being built then!
My grandparents lived in Marin County, which was on the other side of the bridge, for a number of years when I was growing up.
We would drive up the coast from Los Angeles, stopping over in Morro Bay for a day, which was at about the four hour mark. Probably at the point where the kids were driving the parents crazy.
The following day, it was off to San Francisco. I could see the bridge from a distance as we approached—it was hard to miss. Sometimes fog swirled around it—even the fog is bigger than the bridge!
I thought of it as a red bridge though it’s actually a color called international orange. I still think it’s red.
As we crossed the bridge, it was both exciting and frightening.
Frightening because it’s so high up, with just those cables holding us up. There’s not much on either side except a very long drop to the ocean. And, from the backseat of the car, with the bridge rising up, no way to visually tell how far it is to the other side.
It was always a relief to see the end looming up ahead!
Exciting because crossing that bridge meant we were on the final leg to see our grandparents!
Bridges always have a sort of mystic feel to the them. They both represent the beginning of a journey, like a trip to grandmother’s, and a sign the journey is ending. But sometimes it’s the adventure, too.
What’s on the other side of the bridge that’s there to explore?