Interurban-Green River Trail

Day 230: In the winter of 2009, the Green River went out of its banks and the Green River-Interurban Trail was heavily sandbagged in an effort to protect the homes on the far side of the dike along which the trail runs. Some areas of the trail were damaged as well. Once the floodwaters had receded, King County did not have the funds to remove the sandbags and/or repair the trail. It was a sad day for bicyclists and walkers when it was announced that the trail would be closed for the duration.

One particular bicyclist missed the memo. Three years ago, operating on the blithe assumption that all had been put to rights, I parked in Pacific (the southern trailhead) and launched myself toward a Taco Time lunch at the north end of the trail, approximately 18 miles distant. When about seven miles from my start point I discovered a small mountain of sandbags blocking further travel, I was disappointed, to say the least. Unfamiliar with the city streets which might have allowed me to bypass the damaged section and not fond of riding in city traffic, I simply turned around and went home.

The trail has since been reopened, but circumstances haven't permitted me to ride it until today. I had Old Blue in the shop in Sumner for his annual physical, so when I picked him up, it seemed logical to drive a few more miles to Pacific. That hadn't been my original plan for the day, but what the heck, it sounded like a good idea even if I hadn't packed much in the way of snacks.

So there I was, going merrily along, thinking about lunch at Taco Time as I pulled into the Three Friends Fishing Hole wayside, and what did I see, to my surprise? A big orange "Green River Trail Closed" sign! But this time, there were arrows pointing to a detour route. Dismayed, I followed them, knowing I'd be forced onto city streets whether I liked it or not. In a few hundred yards, I came to a busy highway. I scanned for another detour arrow, and the only one I could find seemed to point in entirely the wrong direction, crossing an overpass. Or did it? It was set at an angle, hard to tell. I gave it a try. No, that was definitely wrong. Maybe it meant that I should go through a parking lot and enter the trail again by a local access. On the trail again, I was alone but for one walker on his lunch break from the industrial complex. I made an inquiry and was given some rather vague directions which I followed...again wrong, but at least they led me to a construction worker who pointed me the proper way. In a mile or so, I was back on track. But as I got closer to Taco Time, I spotted more orange signs saying that other areas of the trail would be closed until some time in 2015. Oh dear!

I'm glad I made this ride today. It feels as if it was ordained by the Fates or some such nonsense. I don't think I'll be riding this way again, not until I hear that the construction is completed.

Electron Power Plant

Day 186: Set at the terminus of a dead-end road, you will find a beautiful view of the Electron Hydroelectric Plant. Don't assume that there is a town called Electron, despite what the road sign might lead you to believe. Electron consists of two houses, a pretty little postage-stamp park with an interpretive sign and (appropriately) two picnic tables. It is habitation of convenience, presumably for caretakers or managers of the plant's operations. The plant itself is a period piece, its architecture worth the detour off Orville Road East.

From the interpretive sign: "Constructed in 1903-04, by the Stone and Webster Engineering Corporation of Boston, the Electron plant was the first hydroelectric project in Pierce County and one of the first 'high head' plants in the United States. The plant is unique also in that a 10.1 mile wooden flume carries glacial waters diverted from the Puyallup River - waters whose origin lies high on the western flank of Mt. Rainier. Atop the flume runs a maintenance track for equipment, dubbed 'The Crookedest Railroad'. From a reservoir and intake structure high on the hill above the powerhouse, the water begins its 872-foot vertical drop to the waterwheels. After traveling through huge pipes called 'penstocks', the water energizes impulse-type waterwheels connected to each of the four generators. The plant and flume are the result of the labor of hundreds of men and horses. On Tuesday, April 12, 1904, the plant began its operation, generating power to streetcars and street lights in Tacoma and Seattle, and powering the lines of the 'interurban' electric railway that connected the two growing cities. Much of the original powerhouse and equipment were destroyed in a large slide in November, 1936. Two units were operating again in 1937, and restoration was completed on December 13, 1941."

I hadn't been to Electron in years and I don't know why I went there today. Maybe I just needed to recharge my batteries.