Last week Heather and Mike made me walk all the way down to the Ship Canal and back. The walk was OK, although I would have preferred a walk with less walking and more ball-throwing. It was the destination that I could do without.
My first objection would be the birds. The great blue herons have moved their local rookery from Kiwanis Ravine across the railroad tracks to an alder grove right next to the Ship Canal walkway. In early spring, lots of birds nest and hunt there. So graceful in the air, when roosting in the trees these heron are obnoxiously noisy and poop like crazy, making the wet walkway a slimy white mess. A lime-green rental bicycle left next to the canal looked like a ghost. Mike wanted to take a picture but didn’t want to stop to do it. Just walking through it so low to the ground made me feel creepy. From now on I’m going to call it the Shit Canal.
And that wasn’t the worst of this walk. After we passed the pooping birds, Heather tried to drag me closer and closer to the locks and their spillway, where water was gushing through, loudly and forcefully, a mini Niagara. I could feel the mist on my nose. I dug in. No way I was going to walk over the locks into Ballard, as I had reluctantly done many times over with just token protest. This time, there was too much rushing water. Finally Heather relented, and I steered us uphill, away from the canal and across the footbridge over the railroad tracks.
Maybe Mike and Heather better rethink any planned summer boat rides. I don’t go near the water.