INDEX — Jeff Poole might be running out of time in his race against the river.
Poole worries that the house where he lives full time will wash into the Skykomish River this fall or winter, unless he can shore up a bank that’s slipping away. He wanted to start work this month on a project to fortify his property with stacks of boulders, but has been unable to get permits. He blames Snohomish County government for the holdup.
“I’m a property owner,” he said. “All I’m trying to do is save my property.”
Visit the home Poole bought two years ago, and it’s easy to understand the draw.
Painted red with white trim, the house exudes quaint, cabin-like charm. It has stood there since 1940, when the South Fork Skykomish was much farther away.
The lot looks south to a ridge in the Mount Baker-Snoqualmie National Forest. Though it sits immediately off U.S. 2, the flow of water over the riverbed drowns out traffic noise. Jumping rainbow trout are a common sight.
The time crunch for Poole stems from federal regulations that prohibit any work in the river after Sept. 30. That’s because of the so-called “fish window” intended to keep construction work from interfering with salmon spawning.
If work doesn’t commence by Sept. 1, Poole frets that there won’t be time to finish the three-week job he believes could save his property. He asked the county in July for permission to do emergency repairs. If his situation doesn’t qualify as an emergency, he wonders, what does?
Talk to county officials, however, and they paint a more complicated picture. They said they have asked Poole for more detailed plans. Drawings he submitted for the proposed project lacked any dimensions, said Randy Sleight, the chief engineer with the county planning department. The plans also fail to delineate important features such as the river’s navigable waters or its ordinary high-water mark.
“We don’t allow folks to just start filling in navigable bodies of water without the appropriate permits,” Sleight said.
Poole’s predicament doesn’t meet the legal definition of an emergency, according to Sleight, who said that state and federal agencies have sent him emails that reached the same conclusion.
“An emergency is something that is happening suddenly — it’s not something that has been an ongoing, slow process,” Sleight said.
In fact, the river has moved 120 feet toward Poole’s house during the past 20 years, Sleight said. A short ways downstream, the South Fork Sky has migrated 200 feet in the same direction.
Before Poole can proceed with the work, he’ll need several permits. Sleight said it’s hard to see how the homeowner could get them in hand by the end of this month.
For now, the house sits yellow-tagged with parts of the septic system exposed on the bank. That means the county has determined the home could become uninhabitable if conditions continue to deteriorate.
Poole said it feels as though the county keeps changing the rules for the project, though Sleight said that’s not the case.
“I have the rock, I have the contractor,” Poole said. “I have the design. I have everything.”
Except for permits.
At 60, Poole, an Army veteran, has spent most of his working life in construction, both residential and commercial. When he moved from Bothell, he knew he’d have work to do. He said he was prepared to contend with erosion from the river.
Government agencies at the county, state and federal level have been preoccupied for years with the change in course along same stretch of the Sky.
The county in 2013 bought the lot next door to Poole using federal flood grants. The river ultimately swallowed a cabin on that property.
A few driveways down, another house is red-tagged and is likely to get swept away before long. The bank eroded there despite the owners spending more than a quarter million dollars trying to stop it from happening, Sleight said.
“If he does what he’s proposing to do, it could still get washed away,” he said.
County officials even discussed a buyout with the former owner of Poole’s home. The Washington State Department of Transportation has been studying the area out of concern that erosion will some day threaten U.S. 2.
Poole said he’s aware of all that history.
When he moved in, the river bank was more than 60 feet away. That distance is now about 22 feet.
“This is my home,” he said. “What I can’t believe is that they’re not helping me save my home.”
Noah Haglund: 425-339-3465; nhaglund@heraldnet.com. Twitter: @NWhaglund.
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