As a tugboat churned by, tour guide Greg Whittaker yelled, “Tugs without loads make huge wakes. Get ready to surf.” Adrenalin pumping, paddling furiously, we slid down a series of immense waves. “Each spring,” Whittaker later told me, “my friends and I attend the tug boat races to surf the waves the tugs make. It’s great!”

Kayaking is usually portrayed as a getaway to a wilderness archipelago where, together with a few close companions, you reconnect with nature. But kayaking—and surfing—in Seattle harbor convinced me that urban kayaking has its own charm and is every bit as rewarding.

My day had started at the Seacrest Boathouse pier on the south side of Elliott Bay, a large bite into the Puget Sound coastline that forms Seattle’s harbor. Across the bay skyscrapers gleamed in the sun. Looking out on a constant thrum of activity, Whittaker, the owner/manager of Alki Kayak Tours, said, “There is no mistaking this is a working harbor—one of the largest on the west coast.” Tugs towing massive barges were headed for Alaska via the Inside Passage, a forest of orange cranes stacked identical rectangular containers onto ships, ferries large and small motored determinedly to their scheduled destinations, and a gleaming white cruise ship sat like a giant swan amongst ugly ducklings.

“In 2006, almost 21 million tons of cargo were moved at this port by over 1300 freighters,” said Whittaker, “and that doesn’t count tour boats, pleasure craft and ferries. In spite of the harbor’s enormous vibrancy, it also has a gentle, natural side that you can only appreciate by being on the water.”

With Whittaker in the lead, we set off to paddle around the bay. The first short stretch of the south shore is parkland flanked by the residences of West Seattle. An eagle soared from a nest on a tall tree near the shore. We approached a dingy-green barge anchored to a buoy on which snoozed an enormous California sea lion with another alongside, deciding how to clamber aboard. We paddled eastward to where the muddy waters of the Duwamish River enter the bay, flowing around Harbor Island, the second largest constructed island in the world. Whittaker, a former environmental consultant, explained, “The Port Authority maintains the island in a protected, natural state, so it abounds with waterfowl and wildlife.” The island is a serene contrast to the surrounding shipyards, barges, factories and towering cranes.

Paddling past a former creosote factory site, he described some of the pollution cleanups that have been conducted. The remedial work appears successful, for we saw western grebes with elegant long necks, two gulls trying to wrest a freshly caught fish from a cormorant, pigeon guillemots, Barrow’s goldeneye, Canada geese, surf scoters and, of course, multitudes of screeching gulls. “I’ve seen Dahl’s porpoises and grey whales in the bay,” added Whittaker. As he spoke, the sleek, grey head of a harbor seal poked up and gave us a quick appraisal.

Then we were into the main shipping channel. A tug lumbered past with a heavy barge trailing behind. A ship loaded high with containers steamed by. A yacht under full sail looked light and wispy against a ponderous, rusty freighter. A stately cabin cruiser floated by. There was an exhilarating feeling of exposure, even danger, for, separated from the water by only a thin layer of fabric, we were like mere flotsam bobbing in the wake of powerful behemoths. I felt reassured that Whittaker was monitoring marine traffic on his VHF radio (channel 14).

Paddling past a shipyard and then under the long shadows of giant cranes lifting containers onto a ship, we reached the downtown area and stopped momentarily at the ferry terminal. The view of Seattle’s skyline had been glorious from across the bay, but now we were directly underneath the enormous spires that seemed to reach forever into the sky. Whittaker pointed out the Smith Tower, which was built in 1914 to a height of 42 stories and for decades was the tallest building west of New York City. Now it is but a dwarf amongst a forest of bigger towers, including the patriarch, the 76-story Columbia Building.

A ferry looking larger than the Titanic steamed in to dock. With another approaching, we applied some muscle and sped past. Above us the waterfront walkway was alive with promenaders enjoying the piers, marinas, restaurants and ship terminals. We paddled past the Aquarium into the quiet water of a marina and floated amongst the sleek hulls of gleaming yachts, some of such gigantic proportions we could only wonder at the wealth of their owners.

Then the mood changed as we took a shortcut under the next pier, entering a place of cool, pensive gloom where we turned and twisted through a maze of dark, barnacle-encrusted pilings. There was a feeling of claustrophobia as we were squeezed between the rising and falling sea and the musky, low ceiling of the pier.

Suddenly we were back into the sunlight and happy sounds of the bay. Paddling past the Edgewater Hotel mounted on pilings over the water, Whittaker pointed up. “That’s the room where the Beatles stayed in 1964 and fished from the window.”

At a small pebbly beach just north of Pier 70 we pulled the kayaks ashore and walked to the newly built Olympic Sculpture Garden, behind which the Space Needle pointed elegantly heavenward. Wandering amongst modernistic sculptures, we no doubt looked out of place wearing water shoes and PFDs and munching on trail mix.

Rested, we tackled the paddle back across the bay. A ferry powered past. A Coast Guard zodiac flitted here and there with its crew bedecked in orange safety suits. Soon, we pulled the kayaks onto the beach back at the starting point.

As the sun dipped low in the sky, we climbed into our kayaks again and headed out to watch the sunset from Duwamish Head where Elliott Bay opens up into Puget Sound and the Olympic Mountains can be seen forming a ragged band of white across the western horizon. Behind us rush-hour traffic was inching, fuming across the West Seattle Bridge.

The earlier sunny weather turned skittish and clouds careened across the sky like bumper cars. In the constantly changing light, sometimes the kayaks were silhouetted against dark clouds and other times illuminated in sunny blue patches. For a while, we were enclosed in gloom while across the bay the downtown towers were bathed in gold. Then a rainbow formed a colorful halo over the downtown skyline.

As dusk embraced us and lights began to twinkle in the city, we turned homeward. “I love the richness of the harbor and how human activity and nature co-exist,” said Whittaker, “and there is no better way to enjoy it than by kayak.”

Launch Sites/Tours
The best launching place is at the Seacrest Boathouse pier at 1660 Harbor Avenue SW, also the location of Alki Kayak Tours & Rentals (www.kayakalki.com), free parking, public toilets and a crab and fish restaurant. If carless, the site can be reached from the ferry dock via Elliott Bay Water Taxi from May 1 to September 30.

An alternate launch site is at Terminal 105 on the west side of the Duwamish Waterway just south of the West Seattle Bridge. Launching from the downtown waterfront is difficult because of lack of parking.

Another Urban Paddle
Lake Union and the connecting Lake Washington Ship Canal and Portage Cut offer a different insight into urban Seattle, with the calm waters of the lake surrounded by shipyards, houseboats, yachts, residences, eateries and shops.

Information
Seattle information: www.visitseattle.org
Stay on the waterfront: Edgewater Hotel, 2411 Alaskan Way, Pier 67 www.edgewaterhotel.com
Stay near Lake Union: Hotel Deca, 4507 Brooklyn Avenue NE www.hoteldeca.com