The Bridge

We decided to stay at a park across the Columbia River from Hood River, Oregon. What we didn’t know when we picked this place to stay, was that we would have to cross this bridge.

This thing nearly gave me a heart attack. I was hugging the guard rail. White knuckles. This detour was Annie’s idea. I don’t blame her though. She was worried about another night of dry camping at a State Park. Limited water usage and short showers with the kiddos is not always ideal, so she got to looking for a nice commercial park near Hood River.

That is how we ended up on this bridge. The RV was inches from the guard rail. And as we passed semis and other large trucks on the bridge, our mirrors nearly touched as we hugged our lanes.

Once we arrived at the park we found the spots and roads to be a tight fit. But with some nice guidance from the camp hosts, we were parked in no time, and my nerves returned to normal. The real worry is now I have to cross this thing again tomorrow or find an alternate route with a wider bridge.

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