The Sunday Herald Sun was granted exclusive access to the underbelly and summit of the West Gate Bridge. It is the first time in seven years that anyone outside the specialist team has seen inside the mammoth structure.

Whisked into the hollow guts of the bridge, the sound hits you first.

Just 70mm of steel and asphalt is shielding us from the cars and trucks flying above, each sending a roar through the recess beneath.

A maze of steel vibrates underfoot as dim lights mark the way towards the next cutout to duck under.

Above, another world awaits.

Harnessed and hooked to the safety line, it’s a long and tedious climb up a 50m vertical ladder towards the crow’s nest atop the bridge tower.

Panoramic views of the harbour … Melbourne city in the background … and a huge 50sq m Australian flag flapping above. It’s the West Gate Bridge like you’ve never seen it before.

Patrolling from the belly to the summit, a team of just 15 specialist engineers runs the entire 2.5km operation spanning the Yarra River.

The bridge is unique, so unusual in its build that three specialised teams – civil and concrete, steel and electrical
– are dedicated to the complex maintenance work around the clock.

From their perch on the tower with Melbourne far below, engineers Christopher Pirpiris and Bill Masri humbly remember those who worked on the bridge before them. It’s a time of reflection.

Fifty-five years ago, on October 15, 1970, a section of the West Gate Bridge collapsed during construction, killing 35 workers.

The bridge was nearing completion, with the structures built out from both river banks meeting in the middle — until workers realised that one side of the build was 11cm higher than the other.

They loaded on weights in an effort to level it out, but the bridge buckled, sending the 2000-tonne section plummeting to the ground below.

Mr Pirpiris, manager of civil and concrete, is determined to keep the legacy alive of those who were lost in the tragedy.

“Not only did this affect the 35 people that died, it also affected all of their families and friends and had a wide impact across Victoria and Australia for construction,”
he said.

“To this day, it still represents Australia’s worst industrial accident on record.

“It’s really important to remember the workers that gave their lives to this critical piece of infrastructure that keeps Melbourne’s transport and freight network operating on a daily basis.”

Welding specialist and inspecting supervisor Bill Masri has worked on the bridge for more than a decade.

His father, Ahmed Masri, was one of the men to repair the bridge in the 1970s after it collapsed.

Mr Masri had his first stint on site in 2007, upgrading the emergency lane so it could carry traffic full-time.

“That involved installing a lot of strengthening props underneath the bridge, which we did hanging off platforms for a couple of years,” he said.

“It was an interesting engineering job, one of a kind here in Australia.”

This team is all but invisible to the everyday commuter, and with works completed out of sight, complaints often flood in about lane closures on deck.

Drivers use closed lanes despite overhead red crosses, thinking wrongly that no work is actually being done.

But under tyres, the repair crew is busy welding the inner structure of the bridge. Those disobeying the lane closures only add to the pressure on them.

“We can’t have all the vibration and the load going through the steel deck while we’re welding,” Mr Masri said.

“The team, it’s not out there how much they actually do to keep this bridge going.

“There’s a fair bit involved, around-the-clock work.”

Department of Transport executive director of inner metro Jennifer Howard calls the bridge a “massive icon of the city”, and praises the team that keeps it running.

“I certainly wouldn’t want to be up there every day, but we have a dedicated team who look after this bridge 24/7,” she said.

She said the opening of the West Gate Tunnel would change traffic on the bridge, with freight expected to use the new alternative.

When our boots hit the ground again, suddenly the West Gate — with its unique design and tragic backstory — seems so much more than a bridge.