Saturday July 18--Bridge of Terror Over the Yellowstone River

mike suggested we check out this old railroad bridge (no longer used for trains or anything but pedestrian traffic) that has a tunnel into a hill. the bridge itself has grating over the railroad ties, and the research i did on the bridge and tunnel depicted it as a charming little walking path with an adventurous flair; we brought flashlights as recommended because the tunnel curves (to prevent the wind from blowing through and filling it with snow) and looked forward to our little adventure.



when we arrived, James became quite scared of walking over the bridge itself. he walked a little ways, looked down, and began moaning and whimpering, "oh noooooo. we're gonna diiiieeeeeeee. i can't walk on this!"




meanwhile, i marshalled him over the bridge with constant reminders to look up, look out, look at the beautiful view and not his feet and the river below...all the while with my eyes on that black tunnel ahead, my stomach churning with dread at the idea of entering it.


when we finally got over the bridge and got our flashlights out, a few birds near the entrance of the cave were startled by our approach and took flight. james and i both JUMPED and screamed a little until i saw that they were just birds and pointed them out. but, the damage was done--i then thought that there might be BATS in the cave and couldn't stop myself from picturing all the possible horrors. it didn't help that a stale, musty, possibly rotting stench emanated from the tunnel. is that what a crypt smells like??



we hesitantly took a few steps in, calling each other, "Tunnel Chicken!!" i am not ashamed to admit--i truly am a tunnel chicken. i tried to be brave; i really did. we probably went a few hundred feet in, staying close to the edges because the middle of the path seemed muddy. or seeping. or something. james, on the other hand, seemed only slightly excited now that we weren't over the river anymore and kept urging me forward. the further we went in, the more stringy, wispy filthy things seemed to be hanging from the walls. i was the one who started to whimper and moan then: "oh noooooooooooo. we're gonna diiiiiiieeeeeeeee. let's not doooooooooooo this." every instinct i have told me not to take one step further.

i hit my limit of terror when james--who had filled his pockets with rocks in case we needed to fend off a cougar--threw a big rock into the cave darkness. did i hear a slithering? a scratching? a scritching? breathing? i don't know! but i began crying for real and turned back towards the sunlight. james reluctantly followed saying, "we came all this way for nothing!" but i reminded him that we had gone IN the tunnel, even if we had not gone THROUGH the tunnel. then i pointed out some animal tracks, which finally convinced him that perhaps we were not alone.



we walked swiftly back over the bridge, and james said, "this isn't as scary as it was before!"

indeed, no.

however, later on in the day we showed the picture we had of the tracks to a park ranger, and she said they were probably....puppy dog tracks. :)