Imagine living in a seaside city but being unable to reach the water for most of your life. Between you and the waves stands a huge concrete “shelf” packed with roaring cars. That is how Seattle—a city in the western United States—lived for almost sixty years, until it decided to remove the giant. This is the story of how people argued, worried, made mistakes, and ultimately reclaimed their waterfront.
The Giant That Stood by the Water
The Alaskan Way Viaduct was built in 1953. It was a two-level concrete roadway that stretched along the entire shoreline of Elliott Bay. Cars traveled along both levels, making it very convenient to get across the city quickly.
But that convenience came at a price. The viaduct’s massive concrete supports and “ceilings” blocked the view of the water. Pedestrians walking below were in the shade, beneath the rumble of passing wheels, while the sea remained somewhere behind a fence. Imagine pulling a large hat down over your eyes: you can hear everything, but you cannot see anything. That is how the city lived for many decades.
There were other problems too: it was noisy beneath the viaduct, and the surrounding area felt unwelcoming, so people rarely stayed there for long. The waterfront, which could have become a favorite place for walks, had turned into a transit corridor for cars.
The Earthquake and the Big Debate
In 2001, the Nisqually earthquake struck the Seattle area. It was strong, and the aging viaduct was damaged. It stood on soil that can behave like thick jelly during an earthquake, while its concrete structures had not been designed to withstand such shaking. Engineers said the road was now dangerous.
That was the beginning of a major debate that lasted for years. Some people said, “Let’s repair and reinforce it!” Others replied, “Let’s remove it completely and build something else!” It was like arguing over an old but beloved toy: it is familiar and useful, but it is breaking down and could cause injury. Not everyone in the city agreed, and that was understandable: each person had different priorities. Drivers needed a fast road, waterfront residents wanted peace and a view of the sea, and city officials needed safety at a reasonable cost.
In the end, one idea prevailed: remove the elevated viaduct and send traffic underground through a new tunnel. That would make it possible to create a place for people on the surface.
Bertha—the Giant Mole That Got Stuck
An extraordinary machine was needed to dig the tunnel. It was named Bertha, after one of the city’s former mayors. At the time, it was the world’s largest tunnel-boring machine, with a diameter of about 17.5 meters—nearly as tall as a six-story building. Imagine a huge metal mole with a rotating “mouth” that chews through the earth and crawls beneath the city.
But something went wrong with Bertha. In 2013, after traveling only part of the way, it stopped because of a problem with its mechanisms. The enormous machine became stuck underground, like a giant carrot that could not be pulled out! Workers had to reach it from above: they dug a huge shaft and lifted out the damaged section so it could be repaired. The process took nearly two years.
Many people mocked Bertha and saw the incident as a failure. But I think it also offers a lesson: even the smartest and largest projects sometimes stumble. What matters is not giving up, but finding a way to move forward. In 2017, Bertha finally reached the end of the route, and the tunnel was completed.
Here are the key dates in this story:
| Year | What happened |
|---|---|
| 1953 | The viaduct along the waterfront is built |
| 2001 | The Nisqually earthquake damages the viaduct |
| 2013 | Bertha begins digging the tunnel but gets stuck |
| 2017 | Bertha completes the journey |
| 2019 | The viaduct is closed and demolition begins |
When the Giant Disappeared
In 2019, traffic on the old viaduct ended permanently, and the structure was then dismantled. It was an unusual sight: people came to watch something they had known all their lives disappear. Some were sad because, for them, it was part of the familiar city. Others were happy because, for the first time in many years, a wide view of the bay and the distant mountains had opened up.
In place of the viaduct, the city began building a new waterfront with wide paths, benches, and green spaces. Where trucks once rumbled and shadows lingered, people can now walk with ice cream, ride bicycles, and watch the ships. It was as if the city had lifted the hat from its eyes and could see the sea again.
What I Think About This Story
To me, the most interesting part is not the concrete or the enormous machines, but how people changed along with the city. At first, they were proud of the viaduct—it seemed like a symbol of progress. Then they realized that it was taking something important away from them. Finally, they found the courage to remove something they had grown used to.
This is a good example of how things and places do not have to remain unchanged forever. Sometimes the kindest decision is to admit that an old idea no longer works and try something new. Of course, that is not easy, and it can be frightening, especially when you do not know what the result will be. But if people listen to one another and are not afraid of mistakes—even mistakes like Bertha getting stuck—they can make a city kinder and more beautiful.
In Conclusion
The story of the Alaskan Way Viaduct shows that a city is not a frozen picture, but a living place that people can change. For almost sixty years, a concrete wall hid the sea from residents, and now the water is close again. So the next time you see a large gray construction site or hear people arguing about what to do with an old building, remember Seattle: sometimes an unexpected decision hides the chance to see the sea again.
