The railroad bridge over the Kalum River on Hwy 16 was built during WW I. It was riveted together by artisans -- a work of a bygone age.
Many years ago, while Dad and his friend fished for steelhead in the Kalum, we kids decided to cross the rail bridge. It was sweet terror to make the short steps from one creosoted tie to the next, mesmerized by the roiling green water directly beneath us, and wondering what we'd do if a train came. At the other side, we breathed sighs of relief, then ran over to the highway to cross the road bridge back.
My brother and I played around the creek and river a lot, even though we couldn't swim. One spring flood at the Kalum, I thought I'd lost him. We'd been walking along the muddy bank during when I heard a slipping sound behind me, and a single dismayed cry, "Rats!"
I turned and looked down to where his voice had come from. My brother was up to his chest in water, hanging onto some willows on the bank. Fortunately, he remained calm and managed to crawl out of the cold and roiling river.
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