My father was a career railroad employee. It is not surprising to me that I have recurring bad dreams involving defunct railroad lines – particularly bridges. The last 5 minutes of The Cassandra Crossing have haunted me my whole life.
That there are loads of old high trestles being turned into parks and trails puts me in a strange spot. I love parks. I love history. I love trains. And so on. It is totally natural for me to show up at these places and see them. This is why I go to them. Yet all of these visits end up a primal confrontation with deep fears. I rarely can hold my shit together long enough to see the whole thing.
My trip to Kinzua High Bridge in PA this weekend was no different. I got vertigo about 75% of the way out to the end of the deck and had to (gingerly) walk it back. That they left the rails (and the view to the ground between the ties) in place didn’t help.
I will continue trying to go to these places but they are killers on my well-being.