Memorandum Of Understanding

It was high tide this afternoon when R and I went to visit our two favorite rocks by Puget Sound. I enjoy sitting there all the more when the rocks are surrounded by water, although it requires a bit more agility to clamber aboard. We were quick to notice two objects floating toward the shore, sometimes getting closer to attaining a restful position on the rocks and sand, sometimes getting drawn further away from the shore. One was clearly a small glass bottle; the other was harder to identify. We thought it might be a turtle. It turned out to be a bird. It was black with a white belly, a short neck and a beak with a little hook at the end. The wings were folded close to its body, forming a shroud, and the eyes were missing. Whatever death it met with was a mystery. The bottle drifted close enough to shore that I could fish it out easily. It was a Hornitos Tequila, a popular, mid-tier brand of 100% blue agave tequila produced in Jalisco, Mexico. No doubt, it was from one of the cruise ships moored a quarter mile distant at either Pier 91. The Port of Seattle opened Pier 66 (the Bell Street Pier) to cruise ships in 1996, and opened Pier 91 to cruise ships in 2009. My feelings concerning cruise ships is fundamentally negative. They’re grotesque sources of pollution, heavy air emissions of fuel oil containing massive amounts of sulfur oxides, nitrogen oxides, and particulate matter, vast liquid wastewater discharges, solid waste dumping and underwater noise. Washington State law prohibits bans all sewage releases and the Port of Seattle prohibits exhaust gas cleaning system (scrubber) wash water. In addition, the Port of Seattle has a “Memorandum of Understanding,” whatever the fuck that means, with the Washington State Department of Ecology in which large ships “agree” to prevent untreated or treated wastewater discharges into state waters. One very hot August a few years ago I waded into the water about knee deep and discovered a used tampon bobbing up and down. Water is such a forgiving element. It can lull me out of a rage or dislodge a black and ugly thought that’s been stuck in my brain for a number of hours, or days. And nothing is sweeter than a complete immersion in water, though in Puget Sound the temperature is around 54 to 61 degrees Fahrenheit. It’s cold. The dogs don’t seem to mind it, but it’s rare to see a human lolling about in it. Over the years, I’ve cultivated a memorandum of understanding with Puget Sound. It’s simple. Not much to it. I’m here. You’re here. Thank you for the rocks. The salmon. The birds. The jellyfish. The octopi. The oysters. The crabs. And especially the waves. The way they roll. The way they slop on the sand. And recede. And vanish in the light.