Standing in front of the Old Chain of Rocks Bridge, with the Mississippi flowing majestically beneath, I felt as if I had stepped into another era. The parking lot itself already carried a sense of history — I could almost picture the cars of the 1940s and 50s lined up, engines rumbling, families and travelers waiting for their turn to cross the mile-long span. Back then, the bridge was more than just a crossing: it was a promise of adventure, a gateway to the West, and a passage where countless dreams began to unfold.
Walking onto the bridge, the first impression is simple: it feels endless. The structure stretches ahead, a lattice of rusted steel beams framing the sky in perfect symmetry. The deeper you go, the more you realize its magnitude. And then comes the famous curve — a unique 22-degree bend in the middle that makes this bridge unlike any other. Turning that corner on foot, with the wind brushing against your face and the Mississippi spread out on both sides, is a moment you don’t easily forget.
From up here, the views are spectacular. The mighty river seems eternal, carrying barges and echoes of history. Off in the distance, two mysterious towers rise from the water — the St. Louis Water Intake Towers, standing like silent guardians of the river. They add to the sense of wonder, making the whole walk across the bridge feel almost cinematic.
Crossing today is peaceful, a slow walk with time to reflect. But I couldn’t help imagining the old days, when cars would line up, drivers paying their tolls and setting off into Missouri or Illinois, depending on their direction. Between 1936 and 1965, this bridge was Route 66’s official way across the Mississippi. Generations of travelers passed through here — some chasing fortune, others simply chasing freedom.
We also drove across the New Chain of Rocks Bridge with our car, the modern replacement, but the emotions were completely different. The new bridge is functional, busy, efficient. The old one, though… it carries stories. It carries the soul of Route 66.
Walking back, I stopped in the middle, leaned on the blue railing, and just listened. The creak of the steel, the sound of the river below, and the thought of all those who had stood here before me. It felt like being part of something bigger — not just a road trip, but a living history that connects places, people, and dreams.
And as the Mississippi kept flowing, I realized this is what Route 66 does best: it doesn’t just take you places. It makes you feel them. The Old Chain of Rocks Bridge is not only a relic of engineering, but a reminder that every mile of the Mother Road holds memories waiting to be rediscovered.
