After exploring “The Haunted Forest” in Altadena, my inner Indiana Jones has sprung to life; ready to research, explore and find the hidden treasures lurking throughout Southern California. My next quest: the Colorado Street Bridge, aka “Suicide Bridge.”
Two years ago, I first heard about a “suicide bridge” lurking in Pasadena. I remembered a beautiful, historic bridge that ran along the 134 freeway but I wasn’t sure it that was the bridge everyone was talking about. See, a 25 year old alumni from the high school where I teach decided to take his life in 2010 by jumping off of this particular bridge. So when I was looking into “The Haunted Forest,” I found information on the Pasadena suicide bridge, aka the Colorado Street Bridge.
So once again, I decided I would explore the bridge first and then I would do research on the urban legends haunting what I think should be referred to as “The Bridge of Broken Dreams.” I found the directions to the bridge and after my weekly therapy appointment (ironic, I know), I decided to make my way over to the Colorado Street Bridge.
I arrived at the dead end street (per the internet direction instructions), parked my car and made my way to the bridge walkway. As soon as I stepped foot onto the concrete walkway, my heart started to pound. Not because I was experience something “paranormal” but because the railway was hugging the sidewalk and the cars were zooming past me at speeds surpassing the posted 25 mph speed limit. And of course, I remembered my fear of heights. OK, my fear of falling from great heights but it is a great fear of mine, nonetheless. I took a deep breath and just decided to take my time crossing the bridge, making sure I wasn’t too close to the guardrail or the bridge rail that gave a clear view of the 150 drop to the Arroyo Seco below.
Once I started to relax, I realized it was a beautiful view. It was windy, and nerve wracking when a big truck or bus would drive past, creating a mini earthquake sensation on the concrete passageway. And the whole I was walking across the 1,467 foot bridge, I kept thinking “it takes some major cajones just to get up to look over the railing let alone climb atop it, then climb over the rod iron suicide barrier.” And for the most part, when you look down, all you see is concrete, including the LA River, and just a small area of wilderness with trees and what used to be the Arroyo Seco riverbed.
But aside from my own fear of heights, I didn’t experience any “otherwordly” sensations. Any weird sounds I heard or chills I felt could easily be explained. I did have a strange occurance involving a few crows on my return trip across the bridge. They landed on the lamp posts in front of me and watched my every move. I, of course, moved slowly toward them so I could get a picture. But after a few minutes, the crows left and I was left to finish my journey.
So in conclusion, it looks like I am going to have to do my research and then return to the scene of so many broken dreams.
Enjoy the images that I managed to take with my phone as I slowly made my way across the “suicide bridge”
Define Normal 