The Romance of Covered Bridges : You Don’t Have to Go East to Find These Antique Treasures. Oregon Has 53 of the Sheltered Spans, More Than Any Other State in the West.

For a while, it seemed everyone was talking about bridges . . . in particular the covered bridges Robert Waller described in “The Bridges of Madison County,” his best-selling novel set in Iowa.

The book has lured thousands of tourists from all over the world to Madison County. But you don’t have to go to the Midwest to see covered bridges. Oregon has more. More, in fact, than any other state west of the Mississippi. It ranks sixth in the nation, behind Pennsylvania, Ohio, Vermont, Indiana and New Hampshire, Eastern destinations most people more readily associate with these antiques.

From my home in Ashland--home of the Oregon Shakespeare Festival that each year draws Southern Californians in droves--there is a lovely day trip to be made out into the countryside, through the covered bridges and back into history.

Those of us who live here, in the southwestern corner of Oregon, sometimes feel we’re far from the action. Portland is a six-hour drive away, Los Angeles 12 or so. Most people who leave Interstate 5--the north-south freeway that bisects our Rogue Valley--come to Ashland only to attend the Shakespeare Festival, which this year began Feb. 18 and runs through Oct. 30.

But visitors soon discover that our sunny valley is bordered by tiers of gently rolling mountains to the east, and that they can drive winding roads through those hills to a cluster of pretty lakes, then turn north at the cobalt depths of Crater Lake, which caps beautiful Crater Lake National Park. To the southwest, the roads wind through Redwood National Park, a virgin redwood forest, and lead to the rocky, wind-swept Pacific coast.

And then there are the bridges.

Like most romantics, I spend a good deal of time mentally ambling down lanes and byways of the past. I am particularly drawn to covered bridges, whose wooden floors once rattled under the weight of horse-drawn wagons and buggies. They are colorful pieces of Americana that also constitute a romantic chapter in Oregon’s past.

Under their protective roofs, early pioneers held dances and church socials. Little children dropped small stones through the cracks into rushing streams below. Politicians used their shelter as sites for voter rallies. Lovers ducked into welcome shadows for fleeting trysts, earning the structures the nickname “kissing bridges.”

But social, political and amorous pursuits aside, Oregon’s covered bridges are a testament to the spirit of men and women who first forded--and then tamed--its wild waterways.

The state is blessed with 27,000 miles of rivers and streams and plentiful rain. In Oregon, an uncovered bridge, constantly exposed to wet and sometimes freezing weather, would last only five to seven years before starting to rot, according to historians who have studied the bridges. Settlers soon learned that adding a roof to a bridge increased its life span immensely, perhaps up to 35 years. Construction of these practical and economical structures particularly thrived during the 19th and early 20th centuries, before weatherproofed lumber became readily available in the area.

Some 53 (others count 54, depending on how the term “covered bridge” is defined) of these charming relics of a gentler time survive in Oregon today. Most of them are clustered in five western counties and are easily accessible on, or near, good roads.

While modern thoroughfares still pass through some of the bridges, many cannot handle the weight of heavy trucks and automobiles. Those have been made into pedestrian bridges, open only to foot and bicycle traffic.

Most of Oregon’s covered bridges were built of the sturdy Douglas fir that grows so abundantly here. Some were community projects, financed by benefit dances and socials. Others were strictly commercial affairs, belonging to entrepreneurs who exacted a toll from travelers. Some bridge builders were professional carpenters, other just local residents who needed a way to transport logs or farm produce across rivers.

At one time during the late 1800s, as many as 450 covered bridges spanned the creeks and gullies in Oregon. But time, floods and the ever-increasing size and weight of automobiles and trucks rendered most of them obsolete. Many of those still standing have been preserved by counties, civic clubs or individuals. Their sites range from near Portland, in the north, to as far south as Ruch; from Yachats, on the coast, to Bend, in the state’s center.

The longest is the Office Bridge, at 180 feet; it spans the north fork of the Willamette River at Westfir, near Eugene. The oldest is probably 80-year-old Drift Creek Bridge, south of Lincoln City near the coast (although historians argue that others may have been built earlier and that records of their construction are lost to time). In between, are a rainbow of bridges, interesting as much for their histories, as for their styles and settings.

With a map from the Covered Bridge Society of Oregon in hand, a friend and I laid out a daylong driving tour that would take us to the five southernmost bridges in an easy circle from Ashland.

The morning of our trip last October dawned bright and sunny. We knew we wanted to picnic somewhere along the way, so our first stop was Cantwell’s Market in Ashland. Once the young woman at the deli counter had filled our picnic basket, we were on our way.

Our journey took us north from Ashland on Interstate 5 to Medford, where we turned north on Oregon 62. This road, usually called Crater Lake Highway, scrolls through low rolling terrain and several rural communities and small towns, and within 40 minutes, leads to Eagle Point, the first stop on our journey.

What we found there was a beautiful little bridge, spanning Little Butte Creek and linking one side of tree-shaded Royal Avenue with the other in the center of a quiet, rural town.

Still sometimes called Antelope Creek Bridge, this structure is unique for its bucolic setting in the middle of Eagle Point. It was constructed in 1922 by Wesley and Lyal Hartman to span Antelope Creek, a few miles from the village, and to connect it with the rural countryside filled with farms. In the late 1800s, Eagle Point was a shipping port for the Pacific and Eastern Railroad, and it was from there that flour milled at the Butte Creek Mill was shipped to nearby towns.

By the early 1970s, the bridge had deteriorated so badly that traffic was forbidden and its future looked bleak indeed. But the local citizens pitched in to repair the 58-foot-long bridge, which in 1987 was moved to its present site over Little Butte Creek and dedicated to pedestrian traffic. On the bright morning of our arrival, the only person crossing the bridge was a youngster on his bike, happily savoring the freedom of childhood in a small town.

Tiny Lost Creek Bridge was second on our tour--a good choice for us since it was only about 15 miles from Eagle Point through a lush, fertile valley. To get there we continued east on Royal Avenue, which became Brownsboro Highway and soon joined Oregon 140. We followed it east and made a right turn (south) at the exit onto South Fork Little Butte Creek Road, toward the town of Lake Creek. We drove through Lake Creek four miles to Lost Creek Road and turned right. We found the bridge at the road’s dead-end.

At just 39 feet, Lost Creek Bridge is the shortest in the state and another pedestrian-only span. The sign on it says it was built in 1881, even though county records list its construction date as 1919. What we do know for sure is that it served the little logging and farming community, which was also a stagecoach stop, by linking it to sawmills across Lost Creek.

Much of the local economy depended on trees--the nearby forests providing early loggers with what at the time seemed an inexhaustible supply of timber--and all of it had to be hauled by wagon to the sawmills. This was made easier by construction of the bridge over Lost Creek.

After several lifetimes of service, a highway was constructed that bypassed the bridge and a 1964 flood nearly washed it away. The bridge fell into more disrepair and was nearly hidden behind an overgrowth of trees and brush. But the people of Lake Creek (not to be mistaken for the bridge by the same name in a different part of the state) organized in 1985 after a nearby covered bridge was torn down, virtually without warning; they raised money and started a “save our bridge” campaign. Working together in the tradition of old-time barn raisings, they rebuilt and reinforced the structure.

As we approached the weathered little bridge, we were delighted to find that it stands just steps from Walch Memorial Wayside Park. Bright red roses rambled over the park’s rustic fence, and a wooden arch welcomed guests to a quiet retreat of green lawns and flowering gardens. The little oasis is watered by an underground irrigation system, making it a stark contrast to the surrounding dry fields.

By this time the sun was high overhead. My traveling companion, Bob Baures, and I were hot and hungry, so we ducked into one of the park’s open-sided shelters. Bob spread the red-checked cloth on the table while I dug into the basket: Buffalo wings, carrot and raisin salad, Cheddar cheese, whole wheat rolls, apples and a bottle of Chardonnay. We lingered long over that lovely lunch in the quiet garden.

Finally, refreshed and ready for more bridges, we climbed back into my Toyota and headed out for Wimer Bridge in the town of the same name. To get there we backtracked to Eagle Point and turned right (north) on Oregon 62, driving about four miles north to its intersection with County 234. We turned left and headed west for 13 miles through beautiful Sam’s Valley, the little hamlet of Gold Hill and into the town of Rogue River.

Pine Street, the main street there, becomes East Evans Creek Road just outside the city limits, and we followed it north. The turnoff to Wimer is about eight miles from Rogue River, but the sign was practically hidden by roadside brush.

We had both become distracted watching the passing fields, where cattle and horses grazed contentedly, and nearly missed the little sign indicating our turn. But eventually we found the road, and the imposing Wimer Bridge and its waterway, Evans Creek, came into view.

According to local history, this area was the site of fierce Indian wars in the mid-1800s. A scant 30 years later it was a thriving farming community boasting its own post office.

The original Wimer Bridge was built in 1892; it lasted 35 years and was rebuilt in 1927. By the 1960s, the old bridge was again shaking and shimmying enough to give cautious folks real pause about crossing. It had to be closed, finally, in the 1970s, but local efforts in 1985 restored it to its former beauty. It’s one of only a few remaining Oregon bridges that actually is a working bridge, serving a community.

Today, you can drive vehicles under eight tons over the sturdy Wimer bridge and right into town.

We had to retrace our steps back to Rogue River and get on busy I-5 to reach Grave Creek Bridge, the fourth on our list. After driving on those pleasant, rolling, quiet back roads, the interstate was less than pleasant, but there was no other quick way to Sunny Valley.

Fifteen miles north of Grants Pass, we turned right onto old Oregon 99, a short, half-circle remnant of the road that was bypassed when I-5 came roaring through. The road still serves people lucky enough to live in pretty Sunny Valley.

Crossing Grave Creek less than a mile from the exit, we soon found the 105-foot bridge. It was in excellent condition, freshly painted and well-maintained for all of its 73 years. Perhaps because of its pristine appearance, Grave Creek bridge is among the most frequently photographed of all covered bridges in the state. Unlike many covered bridges, which have little inside illumination other than the daylight that streams through cracks between the boards, A few have small, quite ordinary holes for windows. In contrast, Grave Creek Bridge boasts 12 large, well-designed Gothic-style windows.

The bridge’s name has an interesting background too. About 150 years ago, during a Native American uprising, a young girl named Martha Leland Crowley died and was buried along the local creek. It was unnamed at the time, so residents christened it Grave Creek in her honor.

Years later, the Oregon state legislature decided the name was, perhaps, a bit too morbid, and renamed it Leland Creek. No way, said the locals, who continue to call the pretty waterway Grave Creek, and to this day, it’s listed as such on some maps.

We saved little McKee Bridge for last so we could stop off in historic Jacksonville for dinner on the way home. Jacksonville is a National Historic Landmark filled with pretty Victorian homes. To reach the bridge, we returned to Interstate 5 and drove to Gold Hill, where we took Old Stage Road into Jacksonville and through the Applegate Valley to the town of Ruch. In Ruch, we turned left on Upper Applegate Road and continued seven miles further to the bridge.

Farthest south of all of Oregon’s covered bridges, the McKee stands 45 feet above the Applegate River, eight miles north of the California border.

Prospectors worked this area for many years, and the bridge, built in 1917, served as a rest stop for miners traveling between the town of Jacksonville to the north and copper mines to the south. As the area attracted residents, logging trucks, laden with Douglas fir, used the bridge to haul timber to local sawmills.

The bridge proved equal to the task for approximately 40 years before a modern concrete-and-steel span replaced it. Then, like many others before it, the old McKee Bridge seemed doomed. For generations, though, it had been a focal point for the community, and the people there couldn’t stand by to see their most prized possession disappear.

A grass-roots plan to re-roof and strengthen the old structure took over the town. As the local newspaper described it: “Hundreds of man hours of labor and several thousands of dollars worth of materials have been donated in the project of saving the McKee covered bridge.” Once rebuilt, it reopened for pedestrian traffic in the late 1950s.

A lovely little state park stands beside the bridge today. We heard children laughing as we walked under its trees and followed the sound to find a whole bevy of youngsters playing in a nearby swimming hole. One brave fellow had climbed the river’s opposite bank and was swinging across on a rope, just as Huck Finn might have done on some other river at some other time.

The afternoon sun was slanting low through the trees by then, and it was time to go home. We were a little tired, but couldn’t help feeling closer to the men and women who’d pioneered this beautiful state and built these charming old bridges.

It had been a good day.

Names and Locations of Oregon Bridges

1. Harris

2. Hayden

3. Irish Bend

4. Sandy Creek

5. Rock O’ the Range

6. Cavitt Creek

7. Horse Creek

8. Milo Academy

9. Neal Lane

10. Roaring Camp

11. Rochester

12. Pass Creek

13. Antelope Creek (Eagle Point)

14. Lost Creek

15. McKee

16. Wimer

17. Grave Creek

18. Belknap

19. Centennial Covered Footbridge

20. Chambers Railroad

21. Coyote Creek

22. Currin

23. Deadwood

24. Dorena

25. Ernest

26. Goodpasture

27. Lake Creek

28. Lowell

29. Mosby Creek

30. Office

31. Parvin

32. Pengra

33. Stewart

34. Unity

35. Wendling

36. Wildcat

37. Chitwood

38. Fisher School

39. North Fork of the Yachats

40. Drift Creek

41. Bohemian Hall

42. Crawfordsville

43. Gilkey

44. Hannah

45. Hoffman

46. Larwood

47. Shimanek

48. Short

49. Weddle

50. Gallon House

51. Jordan

52. Cedar Creek Crossing

53. Ritner Creek

GUIDEBOOK: Bridging the Gap in Western Oregon

Getting there: United and Alaska airlines fly to Medford, Ore.; lowest round-trip fares start at about $350. Rent a car and drive about 20 miles to Ashland.

Where to stay: Ashland Chamber of Commerce can provide brochures listing hotel, motel, B&B; and restaurant options; P.O. Box 1360, Ashland, Ore. 97520; telephone (503) 482-3486.

Covered Bridge Society of Oregon: 24595 S.W. Neill Road, Sherwood, Ore. 97140. For a copy of the free pamphlet “Oregon’s Covered Bridges,” enclose self-addressed envelope stamped with 52 cents postage.

Books: “Roofs Over Rivers: The New Guide to Oregon’s Covered Bridges” by Bill and Nick Cockrell (Oregon Sentinel Publishing, $6.95); “Oregon Covered Bridges: An Oregon Documentary” by Bert and Margie Webber (Webb Research, $14.95); “Daytrips: A Guidebook to Places of Special Interest, Southern Oregon and Northern California” by Cleve Twitchell (Medford Mail Tribune, $9.95).

Oregon Shakespeare Festival: P.O. Box 158, Ashland, Ore. 97520; tel. (503) 482-4331; this year through Oct. 30.

For more information, including a publication on covered bridges: Oregon Tourism Division, 775 Summer St. N.E., Salem, Ore. 97310; tel. (503) 986-0000 or (800) 547-7842.