My morning commute is normally by bus. It’s generally a quiet ride. This being Portland, most people have their nose in a book. When the bus comes to the Willamette River, everyone looks up.

They look up to view the city, the clouds clinging to the West Hills, and on a clear day, Mount Hood. It’s a pause in the day.

(Yes, I have used this picture once before. You may recognize it from My Monday, My Sandwich.)

The bridges crossing the rivers of Paris, London and New York may be more famous, but like them, Portland’s bridges are part of the fabric of the city. Some pretty, some industrial.

And I have a favorite bridge, not just in Portland. It’s my favorite bridge. Continue reading →