Mon Mon Mon
Thursday
– photo by Mitch Waxman
There’s always another bridge to cross.
The one pictured in today’s post is the ‘big kahuna’ of Pittsburgh’s bridges, and dubbed the ‘Fort Pitt.’ Given the centrality of its role in how traffic moves through this region, it’s surprising how terrible the design of the traffic interchange on this span is. The bridge leads into the Fort Pitt tunnel, which feeds directly onto an interstate that leads to the South Hills region, and the Pittsburgh International AirPort. There’s also a set of local exit ramps which provide vehicle connections to local streets on the coast of the Monongahela River. The way traffic enters this interchange necessitates an ‘X’ shaped merging pattern, where multiple lines of traffic need to intersect and cross with each other in a relatively short distance. It’s practically a ‘fender bender’ machine, with an inelegant plan and truly lousy signage. Like most of Pittsburgh, you need to know where to position the vehicle before you get there for a successful merge.
‘Vernacular,’ as I refer to it. Pittsburgh is all about vernacular.
Wasn’t my problem, this time around, since your humble narrator was walking rather than driving for a change, but I did take a moment to observe the milieu. If this was back in Queens, I’d be doing something about it, but it’s not and I’m not.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Having crossed the Fort Pitt bridge, I was soon high over the shoreline of the Monongahela, which is defined by Mount Washington’s towering precipices. I hung around for a few minutes hoping for a train to hurtle past, but timing wasn’t on my side this particular afternoon.
As often stated – it wasn’t a ‘sit around on a set of stairs and wait day’ instead it was a long walk, so one leaned into it and got moving again.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Another absolutely awful thing about the Fort Pitt Bridge is the setup greeting pedestrians when they exit the thing.
The bike/pedestrian ramp comes back to ground and merges into a sidewalk about a half mile away near one of the inclines, but there’s a rather concerning set of rusty steel steps to navigate which negate having to go all that way, and said steps deliver you to a sidewalk along a secondary arterial roadway which leads to several bridges and a highway. There’s no barrier between you and the forty mph road, except for the standard three inch curb. Traffic hurtles past.
There’s about a quarter mile worth of this lovely experience, until you encounter a steel rail fence line, that’s easy to step over, which allows entrance to a parking lot adjoining the waterfront trail. From there, you’re safe as houses.
Scary.
Back tomorrow.
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