Southampton's Floating Bridge

You can't go and see this one - it was replaced by the Itchen Bridge in 1977. But I took some farewell pictures in May that year, which I hope will stir fond memories in the mind of anyone who lived in Southampton at the time. For the Floating Bridge was iconic, one of the city's 'sights', apart from being much used to get from one shore to another, there being a dearth of crossing-points on the River Itchen that commuters could use.

I caught it at sunset, with the new Itchen Bridge nearing completion in the background. I drove my car at the time (a pale yellow Renault 12TL, registration JYF 844K) onto the Floating Bridge, with a friend as my passenger. She must have thought me bonkers to take pictures of something most people took completely for granted. The Floating Bridge was, to most Sotonians, as nondescript as a corporation bus. It was just an old-fashioned part of the city's infrastructure, and while not neglected, was a workaday facility that clanked to and fro across the river all day and most of the evening. It was odd to use up expensive film taking pictures of it. Bucking the attitudes of 1977, I thought otherwise. That's why I have these pictures, originally taken on Kodachrome transparency film, which certainly did cost a fair bit, and wasn't to be squandered on 'ordinary' subjects. My only regret is that I didn't possess a better camera.

See what you think.

As you can see, there were in fact two floating platforms for cars and bikes. Foot passengers sheltered in the covered side areas, where there were seats. Buses couldn't be carried, so there was a small bus terminus on each side of the river, to take passengers onward. Note the naval vessel being serviced on the Woolston side. And off to the left, the new Itchen Bridge, not yet opened, but already kitted out with street lights. We were waiting to board on the city centre side, intending to travel west-east to Woolston.

Each part of the bridge shuttled noisily between slipways, hauling itself along by chains laid across the river. 

That pale yellow car in the centre of the shot was mine. As you can see, not very many cars could be taken in one go.

The passenger accommodation, on the other hand, was generous. I imagine the Floating Bridge was built to convey mainly foot or bicycle-riding workers to one or other of the riverside shipbuilding or marine servicing businesses, long before the days of mass car ownership. So by 1977 it was, if not an anachronism, then at any rate inadequate for modern needs.

Now we had disembarked on the Woolston side, and were looking back towards the city centre. It was possible to drive almost onto the bridge, to see how near it was to being finished.

There you are. Not only street lights erected: the roadway was tarmacked, and the white lane lines had been painted on it. The new bridge was opened less than two months later, in July 1977, and the Floating Bridge became redundant.

I can't remember my precise motivation for taking these shots, but I'm very glad I did. No doubt many other Southampton residents intended to make a trip down to the Floating Bridge and get their own souvenir pictures, but I wonder how many actually found the time. It's often the case, isn't it, that one's intentions get thwarted, or something more important stops one carrying through a plan, and then the opportunity is gone forever. 

Recently, in fact on the last day of February, I went back to take a look at the Itchen Bridge in 2024, forty-seven years after it was built. It was a rainy day, and rather blustery at times too. No lovely sunset this time! 

I parked Sophie near Woolston station, and walked about, trying to recall how it had all once looked. I couldn't: so much had changed. The vicinity of the old slipway had been drastically altered by new building. That wasn't unexpected, but I couldn't fix on anything that might conjure up how it had been in May 1977, except of course the road bridge itself. I found a memorial to the old Floating Bridge though, at the entrance to a long-established riverside residential development.

There was no plaque. Younger people now living in Woolston must wonder what this commemorates!

The Itchen Bridge soared overhead, looking rather grimy. I thought I was probably trespassing, but I ventured onto the development to get a couple of shots, and see what the riverside now looked like at ground level.

The city centre skyline had changed a bit, but the immediate riverside even more so. It had lost its 'industrial' look, and the accent was on blocks of flats. Next, I climbed the steps up to the bridge itself. It had been a toll bridge from the beginning, but the manned toll booths had been mostly replaced by 'throw the money into the basket' receptacles at the barriers. I noted that double-decker buses used the bridge. Not the red-and-cream corporation buses proudly run by the city council in 1977: blue Bluestar buses, with different route numbers. 

I walked out onto the bridge, as far as its highest point in the centre. It seemed very high up, and I'm not happy at any kind of height, and the persistent wind and rain was very discouraging. But I wanted to see, and however daft it might look to passing cars and other people on foot, I wanted some photographs. The first shots look upriver.

Hmm. Largely given over to a marina, and various types of residential accommodation. The white structure (right edge) must be the St Mary's football stadium. I'm pretty sure there was a gasworks there once.

Downriver, it was much the same. Not much evidence of shipbuilding left! Only in the distance were there signs that Southampton remained a port for ocean-going ships.

By now I was getting rather soaked by the rain, and was feeling foolish for attempting pictures in such weather, and in such an uninspring location. But I did go as far as the centre point before turning back.

At the centre, the bridge was far above the river, and those safety-railings were none too high. It crossed my mind that leaning over to get a shot was not only scary, but might be misinterpreted. The bridge must be a magnet for anyone with suicide on their mind, especially on a dull, rainy day in late winter. I decided to put the camera away, and look like somebody thinking only cheerful thoughts. And indeed, I was by now looking forward to the warmth and dryness Sophie had to offer. 

It was no great surprise to pass things to make would-be suicides pause, and not carry through any plan to jump off the bridge:

It seems that life in Southampton can get unbearable for some. But then that must be true anywhere, if you have reached a dead end, or are too oppressed, and simply can't go on. Peace and contentment are not automatic, and not guaranteed. It must take a very special person (at, say, The Samaritans) to listen patiently and carefully to someone at the end of their tether, and by doing so bring them back from the brink. At Beachy Head, another high spot where people can throw themselves into oblivion, there is a proper 24/7 chaplaincy - housed in a permanent building, and complete with an official car, prominently marked - whose staff constantly look out for anyone contemplating suicide. I suppose there are certain tell-tale signs to watch for, and if they see them, they can make an approach. 

On reflection, I suppose potential suicides would never think of carrying a camera, and getting in a few shots, before doing the deed. So I was probably not actually in danger of being accosted by a concerned rescue team, or the police, as a person at risk. Even so, I'd hate to think I had been noticed and reported by passing cars or buses, and they had turned out, only to find me already gone. 

While up on the bridge I tried to see vestiges of the old Floating Bridge. Perhaps the former slipways were still there, but I couldn't tell. Redevelopment had almost totally obliterated what once had been. Southampton's Floating Bridge had receded into history.

This was not the only 'floating bridge' in my Photo Archive. I'll write a post about some others in the next post.