The Callicoon Bridge is getting a makeover, and if all goes according to plan, it will be finished in November, ahead of schedule. Around here, that qualifies as good news worth spreading. We’ve been watching the work progress for months, and it’s nice to know that eventually we’ll be able to cross the Delaware without navigating a construction project. I was crossing the bridge on foot recently when one of the workers warned me that there would be loud noises for a while.

“What for?” I asked.

“The bridge is getting painted,” she explained.

“Painted?” I hadn’t given much thought to what happens when a bridge gets a fresh coat of paint.

First, the old surface has to be prepared. Depending on the condition of the existing coating, workers may use abrasive blasting equipment to remove rust, old paint, and other accumulated crud. Compressed air is used to power certain tools and blow away debris. Industrial compressors can make quite a racket, which might explain the advance warning I received. Then there are the paint sprayers, hoses, pumps, and other equipment needed to apply protective coatings. Bridges aren't painted just to make them look pretty. The coating helps protect the steel from moisture, corrosion, and the general abuse inflicted by weather year after year. A bridge over the Delaware River has to contend with plenty of that.

Looking down the closed lane, I noticed a line of trucks carrying folded hoses and what appeared to be humungous drop cloths, protective clothing and other equipment. It looked like a small industrial operation had set up housekeeping on the bridge. I wouldn't be surprised if the workers could paint the average living room before I could decide what color to use.

Speaking of color, I asked the worker what color the bridge was going to be. She didn't know. I found that rather amusing. Here was a woman working on the bridge, warning pedestrians about the noise, and she couldn't tell me what color the finished product would be. Perhaps she wasn't allowed to say. Or perhaps the decision had already been made by somebody in an office far away from the compressors, and she truly didn't know. I suppose I'll have to wait until November to find out.

The closed lane has also been a source of personal disappointment. For a while, I took advantage of it as an unofficial bicycle lane. It was wonderful having that extra space to ride across the bridge without worrying quite so much about traffic. I got used to it, which is always a mistake when something is temporary. On one occasion, I rode across and, feeling particularly grateful, thanked the workers for providing us with a bicycle lane. I was promptly scolded and informed that it was a CLOSED LANE.

Oops!

So much for my civic-minded appreciation. I had mistaken a construction zone for a public amenity. The workers were apparently less interested in my gratitude than in keeping me out of an area where I didn't belong. Hard to argue with that. Now I have to share the available space again, and the bicycle lane I had so enthusiastically embraced is no longer an option. I'll just have to wait until the work is finished and hope that riding across the bridge becomes a little less nerve-racking.

Still, there's reason to celebrate. The bridge is expected to be completed in November, ahead of schedule. Anyone who has lived through a road project knows that those four words are practically a miracle. So, I'll put up with the noise, the trucks, the hoses, and the temporary inconvenience. I'll even forgive the workers for correcting my enthusiastic misunderstanding about the bicycle lane. By November, the Callicoon Bridge should be freshly painted, protected against the elements, and ready for whatever the Delaware Valley weather throws at it next.