Note: The Hood Canal Bridge is now undergoing construction in preparation for the replacement of the east-end portion of the span in 2007. For this reason and for security reasons (9/11), you can no longer access the #1 pontoon.

August 2005 update: The DOT was dealt a major setback when Native American artifacts were unearthed at the proposed site of the graving dock. This was to become the place where the pontoons would be cast. The state, to their credit, agreed to find another site. This month, the two approach spans (they connect the truss bridge transition spans to the mainland) were replaced during two 4-day total bridge closures. In each case, the contractor was able to reopen the span earlier than planned. You can find more details, pictures, etc. on the WSDOT website.

It isn't clear if fishing will ever again be allowed from the #1 pontoon.

During a previous trip to the Olympic Peninsula, for our 2001/2 New Year's celebration, we went to Silverdale to indulge in some post Christmas retail therapy, and we crossed the Hood Canal bridge during the day. It was a clear and cool (cool being better than cold) day and Betty indulged me by allowing me to explore that aspect of the bridge.

The fishing access sign.	Walking along the roadway towards the transition span.	On previous trips across this bridge, I noticed a walkway on the north side of the bridge. Sometimes I'd see people with fishing gear walking on it. That 'walkway' is half wood, half concrete; the concrete being part of the bridge, the wood being cantilevered out from the side of the bridge. It's 3-4 feet wide. As you walk out on this thing, the land drops away sharply, and all of a sudden you realize that you're way up in the air on this thing. The only thing between you and the road is the guard rail, and the whole thing moves when the big trucks go whizzing by. I'm not talking about feeling vibration; I'm talking movement...the structure jumps up and down.
I'm not entirely comfortable with heights (which is why I'm a sound engineer and not a lighting designer), and I had to convince myself that I really wanted to do this. I decided that walking on concrete was better than walking on boards, so I tried staying on the concrete portion of the walkway. This worked, mostly, until I got to the truss bridge that serves as the transition span from land to the first pontoon.

Looking west alongside of the transistion span.	Here the walkway is totally wooden, located to the left of the steel bridgework. Really it's well made, and (more importantly) well maintained. But at the other end of the transition span, the walkway ends, and you can see out over the water. Now I really had to convince myself that I really wanted to do this. Hastened by needing to use the bathroom, I set out across the span.	View from the bottom of the stairs.
At the other end, you turn left, and start down a winding staircase to the surface of the #1 pontoon. At the bottom of the stairs, you're standing on the surface of the first, eastern-most pontoon. There is a chain link fence towards land (I guess they don't want people jumping into the ship channel there, or perhaps making mischief with one of the roadway supports).

View from the stairs looking down on the #1 pontoon. Underneath the roadway on the surface of the #1 pontoon. View looking down over the side of the pontoon.

Looking the other way, maybe one hundred feet away, is another chain link fence. Not insignificantly, there is a portapotty there. I used it. Hmmmm. I wonder how they service it (and it had been serviced recently)? The surface of the pontoon is flat, spattered with seagull poop, and punctuated with access hatches into the body of the pontoon. Presumably these are the hatches that were left open one day that caused the bridge to sink in 1979. The edges have railings, and you're perhaps 3-4 feet above the surface of the water. I have no idea what the depth is right here. On the day that I visited, several people were fishing, and one guy was crabbing. He was using a whole chicken as bait in his crab pot. I watched as he hauled in one of his pots, but alas, there was no crab. Either it was too early, or crabs don't like chicken.