The Yellowstone Conundrum by John Randall Read Free Book Online Page B

schedule.
      The Wenatchee body-surfed the tsunami, totally out of control; inside, passengers inside were terrified. Nobody could stand up; the Wenatchee pitched and rolled, saved only by Captain Duvall’s instinct. The American flag above the pilothouse alertly spread its wings in the morning breeze as the craft was swept toward shore, as if leading a Pickett charge.   
      The tsunami, created when the floor of Puget Sound was pushed upwards with incredible force, rushed out in all directions across some of the deepest parts of the Sound; the waves taking no more than two minutes from side-to-side. As the wall of water approached Elliott Bay on the eastern side of the Sound, the average depth of the water at rest was less than seventy feet. With no place to go, water began piling up on itself the closer it reached shore, forcing the water into a 20-foot high wave of destruction. 
      Unseen to the left, the shoreline of Seattle to the north of downtown had been scoured including West Point and the Shilshole Bay Marina and its 900 slips, nearly at 100% capacity; the seawall doing nothing to protect the millions of dollars in boating assets.  
      Further south a ten-foot wave of water rushed toward the Chittenden Locks in the community of Ballard where Save the Salmon activists first protested the feeding frenzy of sea lions who had figured out it was dinner time all the time at the locally-named Ballard Locks. The locks made it very difficult for the salmon to swim upstream; trapping the fish at the bottom of a ladder where one-by-one they could struggle to get through. Later the protesters would turn on the Fish and Game officers for shooting the sea lions with rubber bullets, demanding that the bulky critters be airlifted to Puget Sound, away from the locks.
      The tsunami raced toward the locks, smashed into it and over the top, water pouring into Lake Union before petering out. The ferry Wenatchee rode the crest of the tsunami through Elliott Bay like it was on Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride. North of the ferry terminal was pier 54, famous for Ivar’s Acres of Clams, long lines for dinner, an icon in Seattle. 
      The earthquake’s shock wave had already softened up the massive assault of the tsunami; the seawall had collapsed from pier 63 south to the shipyards, sinking fifteen feet into Elliott Bay; the ground under the seawall became liquefied; the Alaskan Way roadway and parking lots beyond split like a soft cookie. A hundred yards beyond, sections of the Viaduct had pancaked; northbound lanes fell into the southbound lanes, which then collapsed to the ground.
      The wave rolled over Ivar’s and the other eateries along the seawall. 
      They were gone in an instant. 
      The initial wall of water was roof-level at Ivar’s.   Anyone standing on the pier would have been hit with water fifteen feet over his head.  The Wenatchee rode smack over the top of the restaurant, crunching the mostly wooden structure with its massive weight, then began to turn sideways as the water pounded inland. The ferry terminal just to the south saw the wave up-close-and-personal as well, as the crest of the tsunami came in at eye level; ripping and tearing everything it met; steel girders folded like matchsticks. A half-mile north the Smith Cove Waterway—home port for the Alaskan cruise ferries—was overrun and destroyed in less than five seconds; the only blessing being that there wasn’t a cruise ferry docked in port.
      Closer to downtown were piers 62, 63 and the Bell Harbor marina; all overtopped with the first staggering waved, boats, pier, restaurants—all destroyed. A hundred yards behind the pier were 10 condo buildings, deliberately low-topped at eight stories as to not hog the spectacular view of the Sound and the Olympic peninsula to the west.

    Aerial of downtown Seattle , Elliot Bay in foreground, Lake Washington along upper edge.  Harbor Island on lower right.  Shipyards middle right.  Sports stadiums,