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A Funeral for the Trees
Part Three: Searching for WaterTook place August 28 - 30, 2006
by Jeffrey Pierce
Due to the drought, Seafield Creek's namesake no longer reached the sea. What was left of the tiny tributary was stained a deep brown from the tannic acid in soil and covered in neon green algae. While I pack a pretty sophisticated water filtration system with me in my pack, I wasn't eager to test it on the mud puddle that greeted me at the site. My original plan had been to replenish my water supplies at the Ozette River, which I had forded at it's thigh-deep depth during low tide a little earlier in the day. However, being a tidal river, the water was unbearably salty. I had enough water to last me another day, but I would have to carefully ration it and ignore my freeze dried meals if I planned to make it through the end of the hike.
The "fresh" water of Seafield Creek. (August 29, 2006)
With my water supplies running drastically low, it was imperative that I found a source of fresh water. My initial plan to hike up Seafield Creek to see if the water quality improved almost immediately ran into a snag as my way was blocked by trees and brush. Knowing that the wildlife in the area needed fresh water as much I did, I found a game trail and headed into the forest, a daypack filled with empty water bladders and emergency supplies strapped securely on my back. My plan was to stay close to Seafield Creek and follow the tributaries off of the main game trail that led down to the water and see if the animals would show me where the water was pure enough to safely drink.However, within a quarter mile, the trail opened onto a one-lane dirt road. Curious, I decided to follow it and see where it led. About a half-mile later, I came upon a decrepit little trailer, time-worn and weary, one side covered with Chinese statues and old bottles, a strange ritualistic pattern to it as if they were setup as an impromptu altar. In front of trailer, a wiry old man worked on a mountain bike, his back turned to me as he inspected the bike’s tire. He looked like a cross of Gandalf (from The Lord of the Rings) and a skinny version of Santa Claus.
Gandalf puffs his ever present pipe outside of his small trailer. (August 29, 2006)
I called out a greeting as I didn’t want to startle him. Even so, the man jumped in the air, comically pin-wheeling his arms and legs as he turned around to face me. Gandalf and I stood and talked for a time. After I explained my situation to him, he offered me some of his rainwater (there is no running water in the area) and I gladly filled up one of my 2-liter water bladders from a 50-gallon barrel. Just to be on the safe side, I used my water filtration system to draw the rainwater from the barrel. Even carefully filtered, the water was still a creamy brown color, a concoction he referred to as “Duk Tea,” named for Duk Point (the name of the headland that borders Seafield Creek) and the dark color of the unfiltered water.I headed back to camp, thankful that my water problems had been solved. My legs were tired from hiking boulders and the “rock mush” that composed a long stretch of beach I'd crossed later in the morning and I was glad to sit down. I was very near where I felt the ritual would take place and, as I sat and contemplated my next step, opening myself to being led to the precise spot, I pulled out a bladder of "duk tea" to rehydrate. After a single sip It was all I could do not to spit out the rain water. The tannic acid not only turned the water brown, but it left a very bitter taste to the water and it would be anything but refreshing when I got thirsty on the next portion of the trail.
My camp at Seafield Creek. (August 29, 2006)
I’d remembered that Gandalf had mention that if I followed the road to its end (seven miles from my campsite), I would reach the Ozette Ranger station. I had a case of Aquafina bottled water in my car and the call of fresh drinking water was too much to resist. Shouldering my daypack once more, I strapped on my technical sandals and hit the trail.