Eshima Ohashi Bridge From the side, it was nothing like the steep slope I knew

With a hand warmer pressed to my cheek, I watched Eshima Ohashi Bridge. Today, I was taking it in from the side. I’d always known it as the Pedal-to-the-Metal Slope, so at first I even had to ask myself, “Wait—is this the same bridge?” It stretched across the water in a gentle arch.

I let my eyes follow the bridge slowly, from one end to the middle. The steep slope I’d seen in photos and the shape right in front of me just wouldn’t line up in my mind. But once I reminded myself it was the same bridge, just seen from a different angle, the difference started to intrigue me. So this is what it means to think you know a place.

The hand warmer against my cheek felt so good that I found myself narrowing my eyes. I kept watching the bridge, and felt the tension leave me, too. Today wasn’t about psyching myself up for the climb; I was simply taking time to admire the bridge. It made me laugh a little that I was unwinding in front of the Pedal-to-the-Metal Slope.

My friend would probably tease me for having braced myself before I even saw the slope. Fair enough—I’d come with the steep profile from those photos fixed in my mind. Even there in front of me, I was still holding the bridge up against the picture in my head. I shifted the hand warmer in my hands and looked at the bridge itself once more.

From across the water, it was easy to see the bridge reaching all the way to the far shore. Crossing it by car and admiring it from outside sound like two completely different kinds of fun. It’s a road that takes you somewhere, yet just looking at it made me not want to leave.

For my last photo, I framed the bridge stretching from one side of the view to the other. I wanted to show my friend: “Look—it has this shape from the side!” The warmth of the hand warmer still lingered on my cheek, along with the surprise of seeing the bridge with fresh eyes. In my mind, Eshima Ohashi Bridge in winter was no longer just a picture of a steep slope.