Transporter Bridge

A Memory of Runcorn.

As a child brought up in Yorkshire, we spent holidays visiting family across the Pennines; mother's family in Liverpool and father's in Runcorn.

Although he had done well, now a country doctor, father always seemed to think he was the poor relation, and the drive to Runcorn, back to his roots always felt a bit tense. The stress levels would rise when he saw a big ship; catching the transporter bridge just at the right time was an art, but a ship could mean more delay. Never mind - there was not much you could do about it except drive on and let the mechanics of the thing take you over to the other side. I loved it, the sounds and movement of it was like no other bridge I had ever seen.

Years later on a passage back from South America, steering a ship up to Salford docks I have the pleasure of causing the same delays, but not as acute, as the big road bridge had by now been built.