Meanwhile, back at the ranch...

While I understand that there is quite a lot going on in the outside world, the world still operates on the local level. Since I had a week off because of the statewide lockdown, I decided to take a hike in the mostly deserted streets of Seattle. First I took a stroll along the tourist traps lining this side of Elliott Bay, and this sign here pretty much tells the story:

Having seen enough of that, I cut across to the stairs leading up to the Pike Place Market. Usually this place is teaming with people, packed in like sardines, doing mostly looking rather than actual buying. Not much going on this day. Inside there were a few vendors who opened up shop; the guy seen here sitting outside appears to be a “greeter,” saying “welcome” to the few people who actually showed up:

I had seen enough. All construction projects halted, not one single place you are allowed to sit inside, commercial or public. The downtown Target Store is open, but now the number of customers allowed inside is regulated. Let’s see…I’ve lived in the area for almost three decades, and I’ve only been up the Space Needle, inside the aquarium and in the zoo once each. People say you are fortunate to live in s “tourist town”; if you actually have lived here, that idea wears off after a week. Amazon really screwed things up around here. There used to be lots of book stores, record stores, video stores and computer software stores; now there is practically no place to browse around in anymore, especially a place that doesn’t  have a security guard breathing down your neck if you are the wrong “ethnicity.” 

They talk about the “Seattle Freeze”; I agree with the Seattle Times “FYI Guy”—it is the out-of-state and out-of- country “newcomers” who have arrived in the past decade or so who have driven out long-time residents because of housing and rental costs who are responsible for the unfriendly “freeze.” There was a time when you could live a couple blocks from downtown Seattle paying just $300 rent, working at a job that paid just $5 an hour—and then they started showing up. You once could find a lot of just “regular” people living in Seattle; now, mostly what you find are people who are full of shit.

Well, OK, I had enough of Seattle. I hadn’t taken a stroll down the Green River Trail in quite a few years, so I took a free bus ride to Kent and found a trail entryway and off I went. For people outside of Washington, the Green River is more “famous” as being the namesake for the “Green River Killer,” Gary Ridgway. Ridgway is believed to have killed 49 women, all or most who were prostitutes; he claims to have killed as many as 80. Although Ridgway was allowed a plea deal if he helped authorities find the remains of more of his victims, it appears that no further remains have been found since his arrest, in fact no remains have been found since the late 1980s—15 years after Ridgway’s eventual arrest in 2001. 

Only a handful of Ridgway’s victims were actually discovered along or near the Green River, but the name was “catchy” for the media. By the way, DNA evidence only linked Ridgway to four of the victims found; he took “credit” for the rest. And yes, Ridgway was an early suspect, and yes, the case was badly bungled by the King County Sheriff’s Department, which included Dave Reichert, who was one of the chief investigators in the case—who somehow still achieved enough local “fame” to get himself elected to Congress. 

Anyways, if my trip up and down the trail proved one thing for me, it is that there are a lot of people who seem to be working “remotely.”  Italy, which has been rocked hard by the coronavirus pandemic, had one person saying this about what I was seeing: “Now you’re all marathon runners? Every one asking to run? Where do you want to go?” I saw four yuppie types walking together and grabbing at each other. “What about that 6 feet rule?” I asked. One of them laughed and joked about it: “Oh well!” There isn’t anything particularly scenic about the trail, it’s not like walking through a national park or a zoo; in fact despite what the signage says, you rarely see any kind of wildlife, save for the geese that roam around empty fields poking and crapping.   

Don’t look for any fish in the river, either; it really does look in many parts like thick pea soup. The Green River is one of the most polluted urban rivers in the country, as is the Duwamish River, which it is a tributary of, although today much longer in length. The Duwamish was once so polluted that it became a Super Fund site, but has allegedly become somewhat less so. Things were quite different back in the “old days,” when the local Native American tribes held sway in the area. After white settlers took over the Duwamish, the Black River became the Natives’ river of commerce and fishing. That soon changed, however, as this sign tells us:

The Black River still exists, except in much truncated form, and instead of being connected to Lake Washington, it just dribbles off into a forested wetland. Here is what the remnants of the Black River looks like on either side of the Black River Pump Station, which is apparently used for flood control:

A sign tells us to stay 100 feet from the port holes when they are open, because of the pressure of the water coming through. All that polluted gunk weaves its way right into the precise spot where the Duwamish suddenly becomes the Green River, although they don’t look exactly different. 

Not much else save a good way to waste about six to 10 hours or so, depending how far you want to go. On the way out I saw this:

WTF?