That doesn't exactly sound like a passing grade from the canoe tester. You pass, but you're going to have to rebuild the thing.
I called Sigle and asked him my favorite question: "Would you tell the middle-aged dad with his wife and two kids to take a big canoe through that bypass?"
Brandon Thibodeaux
Charles Allen, the city's resident expert on Trinity River canoeing, says the so-called canoe bypass in the new man-made rapids south of downtown is a disaster waiting to happen.
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"It's a very tricky question, as you know," he said, "and a very tricky subject."
Well, I didn't think so. But OK.
He said he and a number of "local boaters" in Dallas tested the canoe bypass channels at the Standing Wave extensively. He said his company then recommended that the city go back in and rebuild the bypass.
"We have proposed some modification to the city to tone it down and to make it easier and I guess what you would say more user-friendly."
I asked what specific changes his company had recommended.
"We have proposed lessening the drop, lessening the slope and straightening out the hydraulic jet."
Hydraulic jet. Scary term! That's his technical word for the Cuisinart current that Allen pointed out to me. It's water jetting out of the bottom of the narrow bypass chute.
Most people who go canoeing on the Trinity are prepared for a nice slow float on relatively flat water. They don't want or expect to go through hydraulic jets of any kind.
I also asked Sigle why the Standing Wave is so ugly. His company's web page shows these beautiful projects they've designed, like the Reno Whitewater Park on Nevada's Truckee River, built with gorgeous boulders and rocks. So why does ours look like an illegal dumping site?
He said his company was involved only in the hydraulic engineering of the Dallas project, not the architectural design. I asked Winters who the architect was. There was a landscape architect only for the shoreline features, he said. Like, the sidewalks.
That's what I thought. No architect. This is what we get for four million bucks?
That the Wave has to be re-engineered and rebuilt has not been presented to the park board or city council. All they know is that the Trinity Commons Foundation—the private socialite club promoting the overall Trinity River Project—has been flouncing around strewing rose petals and singing the praises of the Standing Wave, which they say is the first evidence of progress on the overall 20-year-old multibillion dollar Trinity River project.
But it's not progress. It's junk. It's a mess. If I weren't so angry, I might even cry.
On our trip, Allen pointed out that there are wonderful examples nearby of the right way to treat the river—River Legacy Park in Arlington, for example, which consists of lovely riverbank trails and benches.
But Dallas had to have bling. It's like those damn fake suspension bridges. It's wrong, and it's vulgar, and it doesn't work.
As Allen and I pulled out of the Standing Wave site in his van, he waxed nostalgic about the founding days of the Trinity River Project, back in the early 1990s, when Mayor Steve Bartlett put together a true community-based committee to design it. The committee included representatives from all walks and constituencies, including Allen.
"It was for real," he said. "They came up with consensus opinions."
But when Ron Kirk took office as mayor in 1995, he gutted the committee and turned everything over to the socialites.
We have some leadership in Dallas that's not very smart. But let me remind you of something more important: We have been blessed with a beautiful river. We need to stop trying to tell the river what to do, be quiet, and listen to the river's real voice. When it speaks to us, I assure you, it will not sound like Donald Trump.