Stuck in the mud

Arriving by train for my annual winter Carnival visit, I spied the footbridge crossing the Whitefish River near the mouth of the lake. As a child growing up on West 2nd Street, I occasionally disobeyed parental order to stay off the railroad bridge when my goal was to reach the beach for an afternoon, swimming and tanning with friends. 

The pedestrian bridge was new to me as I set off on foot to find this link between various areas of the community to the waterfront. Since this was my neighborhood growing up, I. confidently crossed the vacant area formerly occupied by a saw mill seeking a direct link to the bridge.

When I left pavement, I began to sink into a deep clay layer softened by melted snow. With each step more clay clung to my shoes, weighing me down until I couldn't lift my feet to take one more step. Stranded in the middle of quicksand-like mud, I couldn't move. Each effort to lift a foot threw me off balance, threatening me with a mud bath - not the beneficial spa-type. I faced being dried in place.  

Helped arrived as a trim, very fit runner jogged along the trail below. After trying to free my shoes from the grasp of mud, she lifted me from my shoes and carried me to the safety of pavement. She retrieved my shoes encased in mud before continuing her jog. 

Another person drove up from his nearby home after seeing me stranded to offer assistance. Also, a dog walker led me to the correct access to the bridge I sought.  

While my parents warned of dangers of crossing the railroad bridge, they had no idea of the danger inherent in the clay deposit underlying much of local soil.  

I am so grateful for the generous help offered – kindness by strangers is heartwarming. Many thanks. 

Kay Knapton, Queen of Snows II, Seattle