SEASCUM’S LAST VOYAGE

© words and photos by MJ McGalliard

The two pieces of music going through my head that morning were “Dueling Banjos” from ‘Deliverance’ and the theme from Gilligan’s Island (the part about “a three hour tour” seemed to be looped).

SeaScum and SeaScum II were safely loaded on the portage vehicle Otis, cameras, life-jackets and lunch all packed.  There was nothing left to do except pick up Supervising Adult Craig and begin our journey.

The plan was to put the boats into the Green River at Van Doren’s Landing, stay on the Green until it became the Duwamish, paddle on out into Elliot Bay on the Salish Sea and have support team leader Patti pick us up.

The trip was not exactly spontaneous, but it could have been better equipped.  SeaScum in particular shouldn’t have been out on the river that day.  SeaScum’s hull had been patched for the 5^th time and although the repairs looked good, you just never know.  When the possibility of Seascum’s patch failing came up, we joked about duct tape and as part of the bit I peeled a long strip off of the roll and stuck it to the boat.  Ha, ha.

Going down a river in territory you are familiar with is an experience in bent reality because the perspective is so different.  Roads and railroads pass overhead as you drift in the current and you can only guess where you are in relation to intersections, farmland, Starbucks and other essentials of modern life.

The river was low, running in the early part of June at the level it usually runs in August.  This made things less exciting, but we were out to paddle the river, not defy death.

We bumped and scraped along, SeaScum bumping and scraping more than SeaScum II because it draws more water.  We stopped for lunch on a sandbar still a ways from civilization although the evidence was all around us.  Massive logs chained and cabled together as debris control for when the river floods.  Backwater holding ponds for the extra water in the winter and spring have been carved into the surrounding land.  So much work and money put into an infrastructure that most people downstream never even know about.

It was in the wilds between Kent and Tukwila that SeaScum started taking on water.  Bailing worked for a while, but I couldn’t bail and paddle at the same time so we pulled out to inspect the damage.  The patch on SeaScum’s stern had failed.  There was a long, jagged edge where the patching material had pulled away from the hull leaving plenty of room for water to join me in the cockpit.

We were a long way from anywhere, down one boat and had only one option.  The ‘joke’ bit of duct tape I had slapped on the hull became, after some careful cleaning and drying, the patch on the patch.  I prayed The Mythbuster’s were right and it would hold.

It did hold, for another three hours when we met our biggest challenge yet. 

By then we were in the Duwamish estuary and there was evidence all around us of the river’s working history.  Abandoned docks, heavy machinery and what I like to call River Trolls.  These are made of rotted off piers of docks long gone but sustain grasses growing out of their tops.

This was all very interesting, but defeat was rushing to meet us head-on.  Time and tide waits for no man and sometimes is not very kind to kayakers, either.  The current of the tide was rushing in faster than the river was running when we put in at Van Doren’s Landing and our paddling arms were close to spent after six hours.

When SeaScum started taking on water again, Supervising Adult Craig said, “I’m done.” And headed for the bank.

It was by no means a great place to land being about 15 feet up a steep slope to something we couldn’t see, but traffic noise told us we weren’t in Kansas anymore.   We gained the top with both boats, a little cursing and a small amount of blood.

I’ve never time traveled or teleported, but it felt like I had when we popped up over the bank almost directly on a bike trail with several office buildings and a big multistory parking garage all only yards away.

We were back in civilization, but where?  I took a moment to review our situation- We had just popped out of the brush muddied, bloodied and sunburned, probably not the best time to stop a stranger and ask that embarrassing question, “Excuse me, Sir.  Where am I?”

In order to avoid this I made appropriate use of technology and using a nearby ATM checked my balance thereby obtaining an address for the support team to pick us up.

It’s not over, the trip is incomplete.  Next we launch from the Boeing Employee’s Credit Union parking lot, probably after visiting the espresso cart, just after high tide when the waters of the world will be going our way to finish what we started.

In the meantime, SeaScum must find a final resting place.  I thought about a Viking funeral, but I don’t think setting him on fire and launching him into the lake would be very good for the environment.  I’m making it a mission to find a way to recycle him so that the spirit of SeaScum lives on.  I’m open to ideas.