Scuttling, always scuttling
Thursday
– photo by Mitch Waxman
After returning to the ground – Pennsyl-Firma, as it were – in a post facto interval experienced after walking over Pittsburgh’s Fort Pitt Bridge, one headed down for a rail to trail path which would place me in a convenient spot as far as boarding the T light rail service which would in turn take me back to HQ.
Along the way, I spotted the tug Vernon M. Weiland towing a chemical barge into the Monongahela River.
According to the experts at tugboatinformation.com, this boat was laid down in 1981 down in Arkansas and has been doing its duty in the Pittsburgh area since 2016. It’s owned by an outfit called Ohio River Salvage.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
I finally got to take a picture of a train, which has been something of a frustrating pursuit for me since moving to Pittsburgh despite the density of the industry here. Getting a photo of this sort of subject is a whole lot like going fishing. You pick a spot and wait. Eventually a train will come, or not. I know people who pack a lunch and bring a folding chair, and who will will sit there waiting for a train set for long intervals. This is completely the opposite of my entire “thing.”
I’m always moving, no matter what. If there’s a thing to see and it ain’t there when I’m passing by, then I missed it. I don’t like lingering about in any one spot for too long, as it makes me a target. Back in Queens, I learned to anticipate when LIRR or New York & Atlantic would likely be actively doing stuff. I haven’t developed that sort of sense here yet, and I keep on arriving at places just after a train has passed though or I’m leaving the spot as one arrives.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Unsurprisingly, due to homeland security and commercial schedule factors, the freight people don’t exactly publish a schedule of when they’re coming through. Unlike tugboats and other maritime operations, there doesn’t seem to be a site with a live feed of who’s who and where they are. What that means is that either I start carrying a folding chair around with me in the cargo section of the Mobile Oppression Platform and just accept that I’ll have to sit down like the foamers and the train spotters, or that I’ll need to just accept that it’s catch as catch can.
I don’t imagine that this particular news story filtered back to NYC, but there was just a major derailment and chemical spill situation about 50 miles west of Pittsburgh.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
That gray line on the otherwise yellow steel of the Fort Pitt Bridge is the pedestrian pathway that I walked over, which was described in two posts this week – Part 1, and Part 2.
One is beginning to develop an understanding of how to shoot Pittsburgh. There’s a lot of vegetation here, albeit it’s winter time bare sticks at the moment. It’s a very difficult proposition finding a clean view without some sort of kitchie booger crawling in from the sides, so I’ve instead just started incorporating the stuff in the composition. Also, as it’s almost always cloudy here, I’ve taken a few proactive steps in the direction of exposing for that as well. When it’s a bit warmer, I’m planning on doing several get up early sessions to see what dawn looks like.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
So far, none of the nightmare scenarios predicted by my NYC friends have come true. I haven’t found myself alone in a circle of pickup trucks with armed rednecks swirling about while loading their shotguns. Neither have I been buried in vertical yards of snow. They didn’t “just shoot me” when I was witnessed getting out of a car with New York plates. Give me time, as I’m sure I’ll piss somebody off, but so far the Pittsburgh people seem unusually nice and friendly. The local junkies would definitely boil you down for elements to pay for a fix, but they’d feel really bad about it afterwards. This could all change today, of course.
At any rate, I haven’t felt menaced or anything while roaming around in the area. One thing they’re really worried about in these parts are “Pedos” or pedophiles. Just the other day I was taking a photo of the Birmingham Bridge on the South Side of the Monongahela River, in a park, and I was approached by a young woman inquiring if I was taking pictures of her baby who was sleeping in a carriage. I didn’t want to explain to her that cameras can only take pictures of things they’re pointed at, so instead I bored her to death talking about the history of the bridge, and why I was photographing it. I continued on to a great recipe for soup that I had recently come across and… that’s how you handle a “Karen” in the wild.
What is it with the impulse people have to police public spaces and try to control other people’s behavior?
– photo by Mitch Waxman
The ‘pedo’ thing is weird though. Back in NYC, if somebody is giving you Karen crap on the street, it’s generally accusations of some sort of criminality. I was once asked “are you a terrorist” when I was taking a photo of the Queensboro Bridge on the Manhattan side. I found the question hilarious in and of itself, and briefly considered whether or not a terrorist would say “yes,” and if Al Qaeda issued business cards to its members. You want to know something about a group of people – find out what they’re scared of. Fear is far more revelatory than aspiration.
Back tomorrow with more, at your Newtown Pentacle.
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Fort Pitt Bridge, part 2
Wednesday
– photo by Mitch Waxman
As described yesterday, one required a bit of exercise and thereby the Fort Pitt Bridge’s extremely icy pedestrian walkway beckoned. It was literally below freezing out, but a humble narrator was wrapped up tight in winter garb, including a brand new winter coat. A conscious decision was made to travel a bit lighter than usual, with just two lenses and no tripods or other extraneous gear to slow me down. As it turns out, I only needed the one lens (24-105mm).
After crossing over the Monongahela River, the walkway is set onto an elliptical path which eventually brings one back to the sidewalk nearby Pittsburgh’s famous Duquesne Incline.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Alluding to Tolkien – one lens to rule them all – is what I’ve been missing on the Canon RF mount since I upgraded from my old rig, which was a Canon 7D. The Canon R6 I’m using these days is in all ways a superior digital appliance to the former camera, but there are few if any third party lenses available for it. On the 7D, which is a “crop sensor” model, I almost always had a Sigma 18-300mm zoom lens attached to it for general “photowalk” usage. That lens, and several others in my kit, are designed specifically for the crop sensor and not the full frame chip inside of the R6. This sort of “all in one” range suggests that it would be a crappy lens, but I liked it for its versatility and once you got to know the thing and where and when it failed, it was actually pretty reliable. I find myself using the 24-105 a lot here in Pittsburgh.
Saying that, I’m not unhappy with what I’m getting from the 24-105mm – I mean, it’s a Canon L series lens with a red band and everything – but I miss the option of going from ultra wide to telephoto with just a twist of the lens barrel. Supposedly Canon isn’t licensing the RF mount to anyone right now. That’s a shame, since there’s some pretty amazing glass out there from Sigma and others in the Nikon and Sony mount spaces.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
That’s the Fort Pitt Tunnel that the vehicle traffic is hurtling into. Right around this spot is where I ended up conversing with some bloke about the news of the day and we both landed on how cold it was. There wasn’t too much in the way of pedestrian or bike traffic on this particular afternoon, but it was – after all – January in Pittsburgh.
It has been fairly difficult to get out for my every other day walks for the last couple of weeks due to the January factor. Rain, snow, snow showers, rain, polar vortex, rain…
– photo by Mitch Waxman
When time and opportunity present, though, I get my butt moving! The plan for the rest of the afternoon involved scuttling down the Monongahela River shoreline towards the Station Square “T” light rail stop. This pathway leads into a connection with the Three Rivers Heritage Trail, which is another one of the many (fantastic) rail-to-trail pathways that snake around the city. A couple of weeks ago, the Great Allegheny Passage’s trail in Homestead was discussed – part 1, part 2, part 3.
Just the other day, I was walking down the other side of the Monongahela River, on the golden triangle/city side. You’ll see those shots next week, but that’s where the waterfront trail’s path goes nowhere near the water and you’re separated from it by a massive highway and several waterfront industrial and commercial parcels. I was ecstatic about this, of course, since I got to walk around and photograph the footings of bridges and highways. I’ll show you all that next week, I think.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
We are just about done with the moving process at this point. Furniture is in the house, I’ve now got a Pennsylvania Driver’s License, and have learned about seasonally available regional baked goods. Ever had a Pączki? One is looking forward to spring, exuberantly. The moving process consumed my entire autumn and winter. Y’know, you’d think moving from one state to another would be simple, huh?
The last major process we have to handle involves transferring my car registration and plates over to Pennsylvania ones. When that’s done, major combat operations will have concluded and I will realize the peace dividend of having fewer “have-to’s” listed in my column on a white board somewhere.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
I kept on hoping for a train to roll through, which would have really made the shot above sing. As continually repeated – I’m scouting right now. Figuring out where the shots are, how I get there, what time of day would be best – all that. So far, I haven’t had very much luck as far as timing goes when it comes to freight rail traffic. I’m no train spotter, or railfan as it were, but damn… I wish there had been a CSX train set rolling through for this one.
Tomorrow, a few more shots from my walk along the Monongahela River here in the Paris of Appalachia.
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Fort Pitt Bridge, part 1
Tuesday
– photo by Mitch Waxman
A man has to have a code, I opine. One of the many points in my personal credo involves getting out every other day to point the camera at things and walk around. Back in NYC, when a spell of ugly weather was being described by the meteorological enthusiasts, I’d often say to Our Lady of the Pentacle that “I’m going to go ride the trains” and I’d take off for the 7 line, and spend a few hours hopping on and off of the train getting shots of NYC’s most photogenic subway. Not an option, now, of course.
Amongst the many other bits of wisdom my code offers is “it’s better to regret something you’ve done than something you didn’t do” and that “if you regret something you’ve done, you can’t take it back or apologize to the party you’ve wounded so don’t feel guilty, just don’t do that thing again.” Also – “stop fucking up.” I do realize how sociopathic that sounds, but it’s true.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
“Nothing matters and nobody cares” was added into the code during the COVID period. “Don’t skimp on shoes, hats, or eyeglasses” is another bit of sage wisdom I can offer. One of my big revelations from the last year involves a concept I call “the conservation of energy.”
Expending energy into fixing a closed system is a waste of effort. You could put all the effort into it you want, but if a closed system is designed to fail, expanding the system with an input of energy isn’t going to change that. Sometimes it’s just best to do or say nothing at all. One of my “things” these days is to listen to people arguing about some hot button political topic of the day and then announce “I’ve got an opinion about that,” whereupon I leave the room without sharing it.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
The Fort Pitt bridge in Pittsburgh, on the other hand, is quite material and doesn’t require a personal code of conduct other than not vandalizing or jumping off of it. The bridge dates back to 1959, and connects downtown Pittsburgh to its southern surroundings via Interstate 376 which is carried on its two decks. The pedestrian walkway is attached to the lower deck, overlooking the confluence of the three rivers. Interstate 376 traffic moves to and from the Fort Pitt Tunnel (opened in 1960) which is punched through the base of Mount Washington. A notable destination on the other side of the tunnel for some of this traffic flow is the Pittsburgh International Airport. This is the third bridge to span the Monongahela River in this spot, and the first one was erected in 1877. According to 2018’s official numbers, the bridge handles about 150,000 vehicle trips a day.
Since I’ve been living here in Pittsburgh, walking over this one has been on my to-do list.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
As you can see, zero effort was made to clear the walkway of snow and ice by its stewards, and the footing was quite treacherous. Couple that with waist high fencing along the drop to your death side of the path, and I made it a point of sticking close to the girders that support this double decked steel bowstring arch bridge should a handhold be required.
My plan for the day, which was mentioned in yesterday’s post, was to leave the car back at home and use the T light rail to get to and from HQ. After crossing the bridge, I’d head towards another stop on the T that’s less than a mile from where the pedestrian walkway would return me to Terra-Pennsylvania.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
While you’re walking along the path, just over your shoulder is an interstate carrying hurtling vehicles. As I’ve mentioned in the past, driving here is very, very different than it is back in NYC. I’ve got a practiced advantage when it comes to merging lanes, parallel parking, and a general obeisance to traffic law. Pennsylvania drivers seem to believe that the speed limit is a mere suggestion, or perhaps a starting point. I’ve driven this path before, and had people shoot past me at 70 while trying to handle a three lane merge within a few hundred feet. Brrrr.
Another one of my sage bits of wisdom is “you’ll get there when you get there, what’s the rush.” I should mention that I’m not at all naturally wise, instead there isn’t a mistake you can make that I haven’t already made. Remember rule number 4 – “stop fucking up.”
– photo by Mitch Waxman
This particular section of the walkway, leading down and away from the bridge towards the Duquesne Incline, was a positive skating rink. Hard packed ice with a layer of dry powder snow sitting loosely atop it. Luckily, I’m used to dealing with uneven, unmaintained, or challenging terrain.
More tomorrow at this – your Newtown Pentacle.
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Shiver, me timbers
Monday
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Pictured above is a typical street in the part of Pittsburgh that HQ is now located in, in the section dubbed as “Dormont.” After a week long interval of wintry weather, a day long break without freezing rain or snow occurred and despite the temperature being in the 20’s – a humble narrator needed to get out and take himself a nice long walk. I left the snow covered car parked in the driveway at HQ, and used the T light rail to get from Dormont to Downtown Pittsburgh, which is called “Dahntahn” by the born -N- bred types. There is, I should mention, a fascinating regional accent here in Pittsburgh.
The T costs $2.75 to ride into downtown from Dormont. It’s about a 20 minute ride, and after running on regular streets alongside vehicular traffic for a bit, the light rail moves first onto an exclusive to its use steel bridge, and then it shares a closed roadway with several bus lines. I’m still trying to figure all this out, as a note.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Infrastructure, infrastructure. At the left hand side of the photo above, shot through the window of the T while it was traveling on the elevated trackway mentioned above, is the entrance to the Liberty Tunnel which carries automotive traffic from the South Hills under Mount Washington and to the Liberty Bridge over the Monongahela River. The tunnel is fed by a series of primary and secondary arterial roadways which are in turn supplied with traffic by the local streets, as well as providing interchanges with high speed roads which are classified as local, State, and Interstate. Pittsburgh sits at one of those points in the interstate system where several major roads cross or combine.
The T carried me into Downtown Pittsburgh, and I disembarked the service at the Gateway Center stop. I was desirous to scout a bit in the business and governmental center of the City, on foot. There is an abundance of interesting “robber baron” era architecture found in Pittsburgh.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Navigating the streets of Pittsburgh is something I’m getting better at. It’s confusing for this transplanted New Yorker, as they didn’t lay this place out using a grid system. The streets are often long helixes or curvilinear, traveling around the footprint of long gone factory and mill complexes, or railroads which are no longer there.
The shot above looks towards the ice and snow covered Mount Washington, on the other side of the Monongahela River, and the Duquesne Incline.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
My goal for the day, and of course it was only about 20 degrees out, was to scuttle over the Fort Pitt Bridge’s pedestrian walkway. One has a stunning admission to offer here – I wasn’t wearing the filthy black raincoat, or as I refer to it “the street cassock,” on this walk. It’s just not warm enough, the raincoat, and one has been forced to buy an actual winter coat. I purchased a brand which I’ve noticed most of the Pittsburgh blokes favor, a Carhartt, at one of the local sporting goods stores. It’s toasty warm, a bit too warm for certain situations actually, and one was wrapped up tight. I had the whole winter layers outfit on underneath the coat, with long johns and winter boots and everything.
Don’t worry, the new coat is black in coloration. I haven’t gone native.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
There’s a ramp at Point State Park which allows egress to the pedestrian walkway of the Fort Pitt Bridge, so one maneuvered himself in that direction. There’s a bunch of early American history at work within the whole Fort Pitt and Fort Duquesne thing, which involves George Washington and the French and Indian War.
As far as the atmosphere goes, it was overcast, which is somewhat typical for Pittsburgh – the 5th cloudiest City in these United States. Once I was scuttling along at a good pace, the temperature wasn’t too hard to handle, and I wasn’t even wearing gloves at this point. Wearing gloves when you’re all bundled up isn’t always the best idea, since your body needs to vent heat from somewhere and you don’t want to start getting sweaty under all those layers.
As mentioned above – it’s a pretty warm coat, the Carhartt.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
I found the walkway path right where the internet said it would be. It wasn’t a trick.
Tomorrow, a walk over the Fort Pitt Bridge.
“follow” me on Twitter- @newtownpentacle
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Etna my heart out
Friday
– photo by Mitch Waxman
A last stop on my Allegheny River wanderings – after having visited Lock and Dam 2, Highland Park Reservoir, and Sharpsburg – was in Etna. Named for the Italian volcano, Etna was a steel town until 1953. My interest in the place was piqued by the promise of a waterfront trail with an attached parking lot. It took me a minute to find the parking lot, but after doing so, I left the Mobile Oppression Platform behind and headed for the water.
Check me out, a troll who can always be found under a bridge.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
That’s the 62nd street, or Senator Robert D. Fleming Bridge, pictured above. It’s a 1962 vintage truss bridge which connects south side’s Morningside and Lawrenceville to north side’s Sharpsburg and Etna. It overflies a set of railroad tracks and the entrance to the waterfront public space is found right alongside of it.
One was really hoping for a train to roll by. These tracks are Norfolk Southern ones, same line as those carried by the decaying rail trestle mentioned yesterday. Denied, however, on the locomotive front.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
The bridge is a bit over 1,000 feet long, I’m told. I won’t be offering any shots of the trail itself today, since that’s not what I came to Etna to do. Honestly, I had been running around all day at this point, and Etna had already been decided on as my last stop before heading back to HQ.
As is the case with most of the public spaces I’ve visited in the area, there was a Porta Potty set up for public usage. Imagine that? An acknowledgement of human biology.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
I’m definitely going to come back here sometime, and bring a folding chair. This will be a great spot for a railroad photo, something which I haven’t even gotten started on yet. As mentioned, nearly everything I’ve done behind the camera since getting to Pittsburgh in mid December has been basic scouting. Learning the lay of the land, and all that. Where’s what, why is it there, how did it get built, and when. That sort of thing.
Ignorance really is bliss, incidentally. Back in NYC, when I looked at street signage that carried somebody’s name, I could often picture the face of the actual personage (photos, yes, but also paintings and etchings) that the City named the street for. Farragut Avenue, anyone? How about The Bronx?
– photo by Mitch Waxman
As always, my odd appreciation of the elegant curves and supremely utilitarian nature of freeway on and off ramp architecture was particularly piqued here. As mentioned endlessly – scouting. That shot above? It’s a morning thing, and now on my list for a day when I went out before dawn for a sunrise and will need something to shoot during the breakfast part of the day. I’m planning to zoom in a bunch, towards the area nearby the do not enter sign, and frame the ramps up with the brightness of the morning sun lighting up the hill behind it. Should be sweet.
That’s the problem with the remote scout stuff, using Google maps and whole other bag of tricks, you don’t know what it looks like – really. Sometimes you get there and decide it’s best not to get out of the car. That’s the other thing which digital research can’t tell you – vibe. Instinct is something which is honed, and especially so after all those years walking around Brooklyn and Queens’ “picturesque” areas – Newtown Creek, LIC, the Happy Place, Skelson’s Office on Staten Island, industrial Greenpoint and Bushwick, Sunset Park and Red Hook, the Gowanus, several random but picturesque docks and abandoned railways, all those bridges, etc.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
On my way out of Etna, I spotted this absolute unit of a Roman Catholic Church. It’s the 1856 vintage St. Mary – Christ the King Parish church, I’m told. Wow.
That’s it for this week, from Pennsylvania’s Pittsburgh.
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The Newtown Pentacle 