IMG_1656My first journey into the vast expanse of the George Bush Park raised many curiosities.  History feeds those mental questions and spawns new ones.  Rabbit trails of wonderment splash across my mind.

Harris County is my home.  Besides consuming most of Houston, my town of Katy, Texas is partially included in this geographical designation.  It is a very small sliver of Katy, nevertheless, that is where our home is.

Providentially, our home is close to this new discovery.  One of the several entrances to the park is a mere 3.2 miles from our front door step. We explored its location after a tip from someone we had met at church.

In my mind I calculated the route to this trail headway and planned to make a visit some day.  That some day was now.  Texas drivers courteously let me have a safe ride on narrow streets for a safe arrival to continue my ride.IMG_1658

Signs introduced me to many parts of this destination.  Some were informative.  Others were curiosities.

The warning sign indicating that a bridge was out at first seemed foreboding.  Have you ever imagined a horror movie with an abandoned bridge hiding ugly monsters ready to gobble up naive travelers?  This flashed in my mind momentarily.

Thoughts of turning around did skip through my decision-making cortex albeit briefly.  After all, other riders and joggers were come from and going to this same destination as I was.  At the very least I would travel on and do an assessment once I arrived at the corrupt expanse.

Maybe if I got up enough speed I could jump the canyon.  If the expanse was too great, perhaps I could descend the cavernous gully and climb up the other side?  Then, again maybe I could pause and build a new bridge with my bare hands.

IMG_1663Then a mere 1500 feet from the “out” bridge a second warning sign was posted along the trail. This time it moderated its warning.  The bridge was NOT “out” but rather designated as “weak”.

Bah!  Someone was being extra careful.  This was a situation that I would have to see for myself.  Now, my curiosity was growing large.

I rode up to the bridge.  The structure was an old concrete bridge.  It was wide enough for motorized vehicle traffic and 30 yards long.

Clearly it was more than strong enough to hold foot and bicycle traffic.  Not even slowing down to cautiously cross, I raced across without breaking stride.  It held up . . . both times!

photo credit: brucefong cellphone photography

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