Then indeed, just as ship on a storm-tossed sea, the bridge sank behind the rolling hills and I lost sight of it for a few miles. Suddenly around a corner it rose before me again, above me now, and the change of perspective gave it a futuristic look, as if it were a series of steel-strung pyramids floating gently among the remaining clouds and then I was there.

Stopping at the observation platform I was struck by what a marvel it was, how inspiring a simple bridge can be if care is added to make it a thing of real beauty. Size alone doesn't account for it, the bridge is entirely proportionate to the canvas of the countryside it is painted upon and they are entirely complementary to each, each makes the other grander and filled with significance by the other being there. Driving upon it is no mundane experience either, from the steel kerrang as you come onto the bridge, the gong that announces your arrival in the Grandest Court, you feel yourself surrounded by light as the struts catch the sun and the impression is of floating on a magic carpet with the hills and clouds all around.

I rarely wax lyrical about mere things, well maybe a steam engine or two, but this bridge is a wonder that lifts the senses and for a brief period you notice more, the bridge seems to glow and you are caught in the spell.