Okay, I admit it: some of you tried to warn me.
I went outside yesterday to play a round of disc golf, and as I was standing on the second tee and lining up the mandatory shot between the trees, it struck me that something didn’t look right.
As Chareva has reminded me several times over the years, I’m not the most visual person in the world – I fail to notice things like a wife’s new haircut, for example – so it took me perhaps 20 seconds or so to figure it out … i.e., long enough to throw my shot, walk down to the creek, and then wonder why the hell I was about to step into shin-deep water when I know darned good and well I built a nice bridge some months back.
Some readers warned me at the time that a hard rain could wash my bridge downstream, but I knew better. Those 4 x 4 beams are heavy. Soon after I built the bridge, we had a buckets-of-rain thunderstorm, and I watched from my office window as water rushed over and under my bridge without budging it. I had surgery on my shoulder some years ago, so I was careful not to strain it while patting myself on the back. Yup, I’d constructed a fine, heavy bridge.
Besides, for the bridge to wash downstream, it would have to get past all those trees you see in the picture below, then pass through a tunnel under our driveway. No way. So I came to the only logical conclusion: some ne’er-do-wells living in this area were so envious of my beautiful, well-constructed, won’t-budge-in-rushing-water bridge, they came by in the middle of the night and stole it. Probably been planning the job for weeks.
But I didn’t see any tire tracks near the creek, and frankly, anyone strong enough to just pick up the bridge and walk away with it is someone I don’t want to confront with any loose accusations about property theft.
Okay, I thought to myself, I’ll take a peek through that tunnel that goes under the driveway, but there’s no way–
Um … wow. Thing is, I wasn’t even aware of any heavy rain the night before. Certainly we didn’t have a thunderstorm. It must have just been a hard rain minus the fireworks.
For the bridge to end up that far downstream, it had to pass over this:
I won’t strain my shoulder patting myself on the back, but the bridge is solidly built. That had to be bumpy ride, with a nice little fall at the end, but there’s not a crack in it.
So then came the fun part: getting it up and out of the creek and onto dry land.
After I figure out the best way to move it back where it belongs, I’ll be chaining it to a tree.