People, not culvert hurt Carpenter Creek

To Betsy Cooper, et.al. You say, there are no clear danger signs in our central Puget Sound Water. Oh really? I remember Kingston marina’s water teeming with life, little three-inch, seahorse-like fish tootling about, two foot moray eels ghosting from the rocks, schools of juvenile salmon and herring, and perch everywhere.

The North Beach, as it’s called, had hundreds of thousands of eels spilling from under the rocks. The tide pools were a universe of shooting stars as baby fish exploded for cover, with logs and rocks too slippery from that bulbous kelp to walk on, the game was to try. And yes, I remember salmon spawning Carpenter Creek’s tributaries in spite of the culvert. You wanna help the salmon? Move onto the water and stare at the land. The major problem with Carpenter Creek is not the lack of a bridge, it’s you and me, the collective us. Every two years the run off from cars and houses dumps into the Puget Sound an Exxon Valdez size oil spill. Every two years, tick, tick, drip, drip.

Apple Tree Cove is Kingston’s convergence zone. Storms bring rain from thousands of miles offshore, tides and winds stir up sediments pushing them inland, the tiny creeks leech nutrients from the woods down into the bay. It’s where our lands and sea share resources, where the water breathes and creates life. All things meet here. It should be beautiful, sacred, quiet, a great place for kids to fish, swim and play. We think we can channel Gods’ peace to ourselves by living there, but we can’t. Here we are cancerous, our energies carcinogenic, our way of living the antithesis of life.

Tick tick, drip, drip.

Andrew Noah Shepherd

Kingston