Flotsam & Jetsam: Complexities of Island Infrastructure

— a semi-regular humor column by Maurice Austin —

Took a drive down Dolphin Bay Road the other day and was surprised to be stopped by a survey crew that was set up along the south end. Hooray, I thought, maybe we’re finally going to get this thing paved. I pulled over and popped out to chat.

“Won’t be long, just give us a sec,” said the tanned young engineer behind wire-rimmed glasses. His hardhat was so clean it glistened.

“No hurries, no worries,” I said. “Finally gonna chip-seal?”

He nodded toward the front end of his white F350, which was strewn with blueprints and electronic equipment. “Well, not exactly,” he said. “Thing is, it’s gotten complicated.”

I stepped up to the hood of his truck. He shuffled some papers and produced a large cross-section of the roadbed, neatly sliced into an AutoCAD markup of five sections.
“County had hoped to just chip-seal,” he said, frowning. “But citizen input wasn’t so positive, so we’re outlining alternatives.”

I looked at the cross-section, which included notations for rail track, as well as asphalt, and seemed to show standing water. He flipped sheets.

“Besides the light rail, we’ll have to make accommodations for ducks,” he said. He flipped the sheets again, and pointed. “We figure the light rail connection to impact the stream at this point, so the cutthroat hatchery will be placed here.” He pointed. “And the bike lane will veer from the main road here, and reconvene right at the pedestrian overpass.”

I squinted. “Is that a wildlife overpass?” I asked.

He flipped sheets again. “Five in all. Plenty of folks hereabouts worry about the effect of paving on deer hooves.” He pointed. “Pieces here, and here, will even be underground, as soon as Bertha’s available.”

I did a little mental calculation. Bertha could likely make such a cut in 2040, I thought.

The engineer was reading my mind. “We’re guessing 2018, which coincides with the 405 and Hood Canal re-routes.” He pointed at a chart of estimated commute times in Puget Sound. “Once the nuclear-powered international ferry terminals open operations at White Beach and Point Thompson, we’ll need a safe, reliable alternative to the Horseshoe Highway, which will be jammed with LPG and coal transport vehicles.” He nodded. “Best to plan ahead,” he said.

Just then, his radio crackled, and I looked up to see his crew had moved aside.

“So, are we getting chip-sealed this year?” I asked, hopefully.

He nodded, but not in a way that meant yes. More like in a way that meant he understood my question. He pushed his hardhat back on his head a bit. “Who knows?” he said. “At this point, depends on amphibian and invertebrate impact studies.” He scowled. “One red-legged frog could set us back years,” he said, shaking his head.

I felt for the guy, and waved as I drove on by. Tried to think of the impact one species might have on the forward progression of western expansion, but quickly bit my tongue on a sneaky pothole, then veered for another, and hit a rough patch of pot-holed washboard, then had to swerve for a deer, and was so surprised that I didn’t bust an axle on a monster mud-filled pothole that by the time I’d hit pavement again, at 4 mph, I’d quite forgotten that I’d seen a survey crew at all.

Was just glad to have survived Dolphin Bay Road once again. Kinda used to be a nice drive, even, so I hear. Your mileage may vary.