Service Learning on the Duwamish River

“We are on the unceded ancestral lands of the Coast Salish peoples, specifically the lands of the Duwamish and Snoqualmie tribes. These tribes are still here, striving to heal from the injustices of the past and of the present.” 

The first official words I heard at Forest Ridge School of the Sacred Heart were an acknowledgement that this land was unceded; the Coast Salish peoples never surrendered. Those words have stayed with me and prompted me to look more closely at the layers of history that shape this beautiful city. 

On October 6, Forest Ridge held its first Service Learning Day, where students came together to learn from guest speakers from the Duwamish River Community Coalition and the Puget Soundkeepers Alliance and later serve with various organizations. Our guests spoke about Seattle’s only river, the Duwamish, and the profound changes it has undergone since colonization. Once a meandering, thriving ecosystem teeming with salmon, sea lions, and birds, the Duwamish has been transformed into a straight, toxic canal, its waters poisoned by decades of industrialization. 

We learned about the invisible dangers: chemicals from car tires that make salmon lethargic after rainfall, and corporations still illegally polluting the river despite existing laws. Advocacy groups, we were told, are fighting back by filing lawsuits to hold these companies accountable and to channel settlement funds into river restoration efforts. 

After a quick lunch, we crossed Lake Washington to begin our own small act of service. My group joined the River Access Paddle Program, where we received safety training before setting out in kayaks. I’ll admit, before we got on the water, I wasn’t feeling confident in my group’s ability to simultaneously paddle, collect floating trash with grabbers, and keep our boats steady. Fortunately, the students surprised me. 

Out on the water, our guide Shan explained that each company along the river is legally allowed a certain level of waste discharge. Exceed that limit, and a documented video could become evidence in court that could lead to fines or lawsuits supporting cleanup work. 

As we paddled, we witnessed dredging, which is an excavation process where machines remove toxic silt from the riverbed and relocate it to safer containment zones. We spotted a sea lion chasing a salmon, a reminder of the life still clinging to this river.  

And, of course, we picked up trash. 198 pounds of it. 

If we would have had more time, we would have gathered even more. Shan told us that removing the old, sunken tires placed along the banks decades ago is some of the most meaningful (and physically demanding) work that can be done on the river. We left hoping to return and make an even greater impact. 

The day left me with a sense of juxtaposition; the laughter of students under the sun contrasted with the grim reality of dredging toxic waste nearby. Industrial buildings lined the riverbanks, one of them a massive dump of rusting metal, each still leaking pollutants into this fragile ecosystem. 

I’ve been haunted by that day ever since, wondering if we will ever see a truly clean Duwamish River again, and asking how things might have been if the land and the river had never been colonized.