save the sauvie island bridge!

(also published on my bike blog)

Reading the Bike Portland website recently, I heard of plans to move the Sauvie Island Bridge after a new bridge is finished in 2008. Even more recently, Jonathan announced that the proposed plan of moving the old, green bridge to Northwest Portland probably wouldn't go through, due to added cost and a lack of community support.

If moved, the bridge would create a pedestrian and cyclist path across the Willamette to NW Flanders Street. In addition to making one seriously awesome bridge for all of us who love to walk and ride in that area, the relocation would also be quite a coup as far as recycling goes. I was sad to hear that murmurs from within the City Commisioner's office hinted that the plan had been shot down.

Imagine my surprise, whilst sitting on the Broadway Bridge, to hear the local news report the move was still a possibility. Checking in at Sam Adams' website confirms the rumor, and leaves me to report that anyone who is at all interested in this prospect should write, call or e-mail our favorite commisioner with their support.

If you love Portland's wonderful bridges, and would like to see one saved from the junk heap, or if you believe in all parts of the recycling slogan (reduce, reuse, recycle...), or if you're a cyclist who loves more places to ride, then I urge you to show your support of this unique idea. At the very very least, please leave a comment on Sam's blog, so he knows we want him to pursue this option.

Thanks a lot, and good luck!

breakfast on the bridges!

It seems that all the good Pedalpalooza events are slipping by.

So far, I've missed at least ten rides or parties I wanted to attend, due to my never ending work schedule and general tiredness. I'm sure I'll miss a whole lot more, too, but at least I made sure to take off the day of the Multnomah County Bike Fair. Of course, I was only able to do that after exasperatedly agreeing to work seven days in a row.

To my constant confusion and general dismay, I am just now beginning my third of those days, the first four of which are morning shifts. I keep coming in, thinking I'll spend the day updating both this and my personal blog, but instead sleepwalking through the day. Yesterday, I actually fell asleep.

I try to be a good person, and I try to go to bed early, but it's summer. Try as I may, I just can't fall asleep before dark. This has been leading me to average four to five hours sleep each night, and I can't help but wonder at which point that bottoms out. I keep thinking I'll go home and take a nap, but then I get there, and as tired as I am, it occurs to me it's pointless. A nap would just cause me to stay up later, possibly equalling less sleep.

This all results in a zombie-like state, including a half-dead stare, a dragging gait, and a level of grumpiness which has me scowling and snapping, biting off the heads of friends and loved ones for their tasty, tasty brains. Well, all except that last part.

Despite all of this, I at least got to see Breakfast on the Bridges this Friday. I wanted to go down and say hello and maybe have a bagel, but I just couldn't make myself move. Besides, I felt like a phony for not riding in that day (or any day this week), and didn't want to be that person who stands around saying things like, "Really, I usually ride my bike. I'd totally have it out here today if I hadn't been recently initiated into the cult of the living dead. Say, that's a pretty fixie..."

Instead of participating, I lazily snapped some photos from the cameras, so that people all over the world, just like me, could live vicariously through those actually appreciating a morning commute. Unfortunately, the files won't upload and, as expected, I'm too lazy to do anything about it. That was a nice story, though, right?

okay, fine then.

At the request of one particularly loud critic (ahem!), I have turned on the comment option for the blog. I only turned it off back in the beginning, when I was worried as to whether I was allowed to have a blog or not, and all my other worries on the subject have since fallen away, so there's really no reason people shouldn't be allowed to speak up and ask questions.

Or, you know. . . continue ignoring me thusly.


I have, though, added comment moderation, just in case I do have hordes of fans, patiently waiting beyond the threshold for their chance to become unruly. Hey, a girl can dream.

that was a nice little nap.

There's nothing quite like having three whole days off to ease the sting of so many days at work. I have slept long, luxurious hours, and I have seen my significant other, and I have played some Scrabble. However, I do get restless without anything to do, so I picked up some shifts at the theater, and celebrated my return to work late tonight / early this morning by wearing my pajamas. Okay, fine, I didn't have three complete days off, but I had three days off from this place.

Amazingly, my dear friend Dauby-- the tug who gives us perhaps the most patronage-- has a relatively early call-out tonight, and is making only a one-way trip. When I heard this from my dispatcher, I happily declared, "Sweeeeet" and ran on out the door. I ended up getting here a bit early, adding an unneeded 20 minutes to my workday, but that's fine, because I'll still get paid for over twice the amount of time I put in. Minimum pay requirements are grand, ain't they?

I've been occupying myself for the last hour by reading blogs of interest, and now I hear the radio chirping at me that the tug is almost here. Heh. I haven't even signed in yet. I suppose I better do that iffin' I want to be paid at all.

well, this is fun. . .

The boats and barges are queued up, just waiting for the Steel Bridge operator to gain control of the lift. Everyone's been in a holding pattern for the last half hour, waiting for him to get the green light, and let through the boats, which will then head toward us.

The Steel Bridge is owned by Union Pacific, and thus the operators have to call a dispatcher and ask for permission to open the bridge, which is granted depending upon train schedules. It's got to be pretty frustrating to be the lowest bridge in town in relation to the water, with the most frequent openings, and have people constantly asking for something which you frequently can't give.

You should hear what they have to go through to lift the top span. I'd feel sympathy, but they work on one of the coolest bridges in the tri-county area, and rumor has it the cleanest one as well.

close calls

I sent myself to bed early, knowing that I had to be on the Broadway by 9:00 this morning, and wanting as much sleep as possible. Of course, when one is used to waking up at the crack of noon, falling asleep at the dainty hour of 1:00 AM is no easy task. It took some doing, but I finally succumbed, and was awaken a few minutes later by my dispatcher.

Of course I was being called into work. It only made sense when I considered that I had left work a few hours ago, and had another shift scheduled in less than eight more. I mean, how could that time possibly remain so empty when I could clearly be working? Crazy Scout, I had assumed that the dropping water level meant I would be seeing a day off, but that's just crazy. I love working ten days and thirteen shifts in a row!

Yeah, I know that I don't actually do anything, short of eat too much, watch TV, gripe about sleep, and ogle pirate ships. It's just that I've gotten accustomed to seeing my husband, sleeping one full night a week, and seeing the occasional ray of sunshine from some place other than a stuffy, glassed-in room, and I like the occasional day of freedom. Alas, I'm on-call now for the next two weeks, so true freedom isn't to be had.

The mental anguish clearly bringing me down, I adjusted my wake up time from 2:30 to 3:30, and fell back into a fitful state of sleep. My husband, coming to bed at a much more reasonable time, asked me when I had to be on the bridge as he settled in between the sheets.

"Forefurdy," I grumbled.

There was a pause, and then he replied, "Do you know it's four o'clock now?"

Fuuuuck. I rolled out of bed, threw on some attractive sweats, grabbed my keys, and wandered out the door in a haze. I drove downtown, passing only one other person in the drive, pulled into my favorite spot in the empty lot, stumbled up the bridge, and made it here in the nick of time. Now I wait for the boat, and pray to Jeebus that I don't have to wait for him to come back downriver, too. In the mean time, I complain quietly to anyone who will listen.

you know, just your average day. . . with pirates!

I wasn't supposed to work today; instead I planned to take my significant other downtown, where we could view the arrival of tall ships from the Morrison Bridge. Alas, I was rudely awaken this morning by the telephone, signalling me onto the Hawthorne for the afternoon shift. I was sad to miss out on potentially lifting the bridge for replica pirate ships, or (even better) to view them with cameras from the Morrison's pier, so I snapped some pictures from the security cameras as they headed into town.

Something which is amazing about working on the bridges is how much communication happens between different vessels on the water. Obviously, they're announcing their presence to one another and calling us for lifts, but the fanfare which culminated in the arrival of Lady Washington and Hawaiian Chieftain this afternoon took a whole lot of choreography, never seen or heard by the onlookers watching from the pier.

The ships were preceded by a Portland fireboat, which put on a fantasitic show of shooting water in all directions. This was followed with giant red and blue arcs of water, which briefly dyed the surrounding Willamette River accordingly. When the colors kicked in, the radio chatter fell briefly silent, and the ships let of canon fire! It was awesome, and cool to be so close to. I was all but hanging out the window, and several people crossing the Hawthorne were equally impressed. One jogger, however, could not be arsed to pay attention, and never flinched when the canons went off. Now that's the zone.

down, evil water! down!

When I arrived on the Morrison today for my boring ass shift of watching television, I noticed that the water was at 12.29 feet, and two hours later had gone down to 12.07 feet. A while later, my interim boss called to inform me that my high water shifts had been cancelled, and I was back to being simply on call.

Hallelujiah! Between this and a shift I picked up at the theater last week, this was my eighth day in a row working. I need a break! I need to go home and, um, sit in front of a different TV.

high water and low-level boredom

I've worked for six days in a row today, and I'm scheduled for another three, before I have one whole day off. This high water business hasn't ended (we're currently at 12.57 feet), and even if it does, Rose Festival begins on Thursday.

I had entirely forgotten that we staff the bridges full time during Rose Festival, as well.

It's not too bad, as I've lucked myself into the swing shift for all of these hours, and if I play my cards right on Thursday, I'll get to open the bridge for some pirate ships! They're not real pirate ships, of course, but any action would be sweet at this point, as I've been spending the last week watching TV, and trying not to be bored witless. Some times, I even won.

tonight, from my perch

here yesterday, here today.

We're still at high water, and I'm occupying myself once again on the Morrison Bridge. The rain doesn't want to stop, and there's little to do here. Amazingly, there's only so much time one can waste on the interweb.

I have five more hours left to work today, and I've already answered all my email, and watched a movie. Cléo from 5 to 7, in case you were wondering.

yay! yay! o, happy day!

They're setting up for Rose Festival!

swing shift: morrison bridge

I had to go to a mandatory training seminar this morning, where I learned the do's and don'ts of sexual harrassment. As if it's complicated or something, I walked away with the newfound knowledge that it's better to never speak to anyone. Ever.

While leaving, I got the heads-up from my boss that we were at high water again, and I need to work the swing shift today. Only problem is that I was already scheduled to work the graveyard shift tonight. A little bit of swapping around, and here I am.

I'm relieved with the change, as I was worried about being able to stay awake until 6:00 tomorrow morning after waking up at the same time today. If we stay at high water, I'm scheduled 40 hours for the coming week. Ordinarily I'm opposed to such work, but my slacker ass could use the money.

Here's hoping the water stays high!

whew!

I've been sitting here for the last half hour, anxiously watching people board the Portland Spirit for its lunchtime cruise. Even though everything else seems to be working fine, the phones are still out, and it had me a bit nervous as to whether I would be able to perform a lift.

Boats came and went, but nobody needed my services until the Portland Spirit hailed me just after noon, asking if it would be possible to get a lift. Ummmm, sure, I said. Or, at the least, I think so.

As tends to happen when I get nervous, everything went off without a hitch, leaving me here to worry for nothing. I'd like to think that one day I'll learn my lesson, but I don't have a heap of faith in that eventuality. In the mean time, I cleaned the holy living hell out of the bridge house, ate lunch, and found a way to put a rather embarrassing rip in the front of my jeans. Luckily I'm wearing a long shirt, or my modesty could be compromised.

That's humor. Sorry, I'm tired.

day shift: hawthorne bridge

Another sleepless night, and I return once more to the Hawthorne Bridge. I didn't ride my bike this morning, which is quite lucky, because the electric gate at the bridge shop wouldn't open, and I would have had to haul the damn thing up the scary ass stairs to the bridge house. No thanks. I parked outside the purview of our security cameras, and hoofed it up the bridge, where the operator I was relieving informed me that we only had selective power.

The video cameras are back up and running, so I can see the gate has been opened, but the phone on the bridge is still out, which makes me nervous. The other operator told me that some of the lights were out on the bridge, but neither of us knew if that included traffic signals. Also, sometimes when the power is out, the bridge doesn't like to do what it's told, so I'm hoping that I get a visit from one of the cuter electricians today.

Until then, I'll just sit here.