And they litter. Walk down some morning, and watch the sun rise from behind Bainbridge Island while Mt. Rainier shimmers like a volcanic hallucination in the distance. The air is fresh; the water is blue; the pier is covered with trash. First you notice yesterday's fish carcasses. Then you see the piles of plastic packaging from candy bars and fishing lures. Usually you will find a dirty diaper, and at the end of the pier near the benches, an assortment of condoms and beer cans left over from teenage trysts.
This baffles me, because Washington is a state with a lot of coastline but not much public access to the water. Even most of the state parks have only short stretches of beach, while the rest is private property. Which makes the Illahee dock a jewel - a tiny little balcony onto the water for all of us who don't have a private beach. And it doesn't cost a cent.
Maybe there should be a fee. Maybe if it cost something people would perceive that it had value, and treat it accordingly. As it is, everyone treats the Illahee public dock like their own personal trashcan, when in fact it is their own personal swimming hole, lovers' point, and fishing spot.
Which is why the other day I did something I don't normally have the courage to do. I was lounging on the pier with my family. Next to us a young girl and her father played with their dogs, teasing them into jumping into the water. Out of the corner of my eye I thought I saw the girl toss a cup into the water. I nudged my husband and asked him if he saw it.
"No," he said, "I think that was already in the water." That could easily be - discarded grocery bags frequently masquerade as jellyfish, with yards of monofilament tentacles.
So I watched. Soon her father threw an old can into the water, and then a food wrapper.
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