The Pine Valley Creek Bridge, also known as Nello Irwin Greer Memorial Bridge, is a reinforced concrete box girder bridge in San Diego County, California, built in 1974 as part of the Interstate 8 freeway system. At the time of its construction, it was the first bridge constructed in the United States using the segmental balanced cantilever method. The bridge rises 450 feet (140 m) above the valley floor, and is over 1,700 feet (520 m) long.
Originally known unofficially as the Pine Valley Creek Bridge, a California State Senate concurrent resolution (SCR-33) officially named the bridge in honor of the project engineer, Nello Irwin Greer, responsible for designing the section of Interstate 8 known as the "Pine Valley Project".
In the original design, the freeway's routing followed the old US Highway 80 path through the center of the town of Pine Valley. This would have destroyed much of the town and many of the native pines found there. Greer's design re-routed the freeway to the south, bypassing and preserving the quaint beauty of this eastern San Diego County mountain community. This new design also saved two miles (3 km) of freeway construction, saving millions of dollars in costs. However this re-routing of the freeway mandated the crossing of the Pine Valley Creek Canyon. The bridge that now bears Greer's name was the design answer to that engineering hurdle.
Famous quotes containing the words pine, valley, creek and/or bridge:
“For a hundred and fifty years, in the pasture of dead horses,
roots of pine trees pushed through the pale curves of your ribs,
yellow blossoms flourished above you in autumn, and in winter
frost heaved your bones in the ground—old toilers, soil makers:
O Roger, Mackerel, Riley, Ned, Nellie, Chester, Lady Ghost.”
—Donald Hall (b. 1928)
“Down in the valley,
Valley so low,
Hang your head over,
Hear the train blow.”
—Unknown. Down in the Valley (l. 1–4)
“It might be seen by what tenure men held the earth. The smallest stream is mediterranean sea, a smaller ocean creek within the land, where men may steer by their farm bounds and cottage lights. For my own part, but for the geographers, I should hardly have known how large a portion of our globe is water, my life has chiefly passed within so deep a cove. Yet I have sometimes ventured as far as to the mouth of my Snug Harbor.”
—Henry David Thoreau (1817–1862)
“I was at work that morning. Someone came riding like mad
Over the bridge and up the road—Farmer Rouf’s little lad.
Bareback he rode; he had no hat; he hardly stopped to say,
“Morgan’s men are coming, Frau, they’re galloping on this way.”
—Constance Fenimore Woolson (1840–1894)