nearby stuff I've never seen

We went, on an impulse, on an adventure on Sunday. We decided to find the railroad trestle which we'd heard existed in the next county over. Maybe this would not thrill others, but I like trains and I like views from high places. We would've been smart to look it up on the web before we tried to find it, but as I said, this was sort of on an impulse. We knew the general location, so after a lovely breakfast at Cafe d'Jango, we drove to Greene County and started asking people. I've found this to be a pretty good method of getting to obscure places--aim yourself in generally the right direction, and the closer you get, the likelier you are to get accurate directions.

We met all kinds of nice people who were happy to give directions. Unfortunately, every person we met had a different way of getting there (because, honestly, there are forty ways to get there), and after six sets of directions we still weren't sure where the hell we were going. We saw a lot of Greene County, which is lovely valley-and-rolling-hill country, I have to say. Someone I met who owned their piece of heaven and a double-wide trailer in Greene County once told me it was "god's country" out there. One helpful fellow, in his truck in the middle of nowhere, told us to follow this one road that would make many 90 degree turns "till you'll thank yer lost, " and adding, "If you do get lost, just come and ask me again. I live in that blue house up the road." We hadn't seen a blue house anywhere along our route. Still, it was a nice offer. Another older guy we'd asked earlier, also through his truck window, got this real serious look on his face and said, "Yep, I know exactly how to get there." He leaned in a little more as if he was about to tell us a tragic, true story, and added, "Now listen reeeeal close...." The last part of his directions were, "Take the very next right and then you'll see the pertiest thang you've ever seen." Ah well, I've seen the Eiffel Tower, but by gosh, this train trestle was darned awesome, too, I have to say.

We scrabbled up a steep bank and got to the top of it. Freaky high. I decided right off that I'd like to know more about the train schedule before I ventured out very far because if a train came, there is no option but a hundred foot-plus splat to the ground or try to outrun the train. Trying to outrun a train is never advisable because 1) a person can't run faster than a train and 2) a person could very easily get her foot wedged between the ties, and then she would be run over by the train for sure. In an earlier time, I actually hopped a moving freight train. They haul ass when going through open countryside. Trust me on that. Any angle you look at it, you are going to get run over by a train if you are on that trestle when a train comes. Those things don't stop on a dime. Or even a cow. According to a co-worker who grew up out there and claims to have done it, crossing the trestle at night was a local "proving one's manhood" thing.

This morning I did a little more research on the Greene County Viaduct, or the Tulip Trestle as it's also called. It is the third largest structure of its kind in the world. It is 180 feet high and 2,295 feet long. Six or seven trains cross it a day. Given that trains run early and late, that doesn't leave a lot of leeway, even if we knew the train schedule. I want to take my son back so he can see it, and I also want to get some awesome pictures. But I can't say I will consider crossing it as I have very little to prove these days.