A tunnel-making behemoth has already chewed up and spat out one politician, writes Mark Harris.
In 1926, Bertha Knight Landes  became the first female mayor of Seattle — and the first of any major  American city. After winning a landslide victory by promising to clean  up city hall, she cracked down on police corruption and campaigned for  municipal ownership of the city’s electricity company and streetcars.
In 2013, the freshly elected mayor, Ed Murray,  is planning a 21st-century spin on similar issues: supporting a  Department of Justice reform of Seattle’s troubled police force,  planning city-wide wireless Internet, and pushing out light rail to more  neighborhoods.
And yet Bertha may still rise up to haunt him. Fifty feet below downtown Seattle, the world’s largest tunnel-boring machine,  nicknamed Bertha after the city’s progressive mayor, lies still. This  remarkable vehicle weighs 7,000 tons, stretches nearly 330 feet long,  and has a 60-foot diameter. When fully operational, Bertha has an  intrepid crew of 25. (It also has its own Twitter account, of course.)
In  early August, Bertha began carving out a two-mile road tunnel to  replace the Alaskan Way viaduct, an ugly double-decker motorway that has  been disfiguring Seattle’s waterfront since the 1950s. The viaduct  slumped several inches during a 2001 earthquake; if the temblor had  continued slightly longer, it probably would have collapsed altogether.
The  viaduct has been living on borrowed time ever since. Dozens of  alternatives were considered, including twin tunnels, another elevated  roadway, and even scrapping the highway in favor of improved surface  roads and better public transport. As it happens, politicians dithered  long enough for tunneling technology to devise another option: a single  tunnel large enough to accommodate two levels of multi-lane traffic.
The  Japanese-made boring machine is a gloriously Rube Goldberg affair. As  the five-story-tall cutting face spins, earth and rocks are ground up  and mixed with a soil conditioner. This biodegradable foam stabilizes  the soil to the consistency of toothpaste, allowing it to be transported  via screws and a conveyor belt through the machine and out the tunnel  entrance. Simultaneously, pre-made concrete panels are fed forward and  lifted into place on the tunnel walls by two vacuum suction arms.  Finally, grout is pumped around the new panels and the machine pushes  itself forward.
Controlling  and synchronizing these processes are the machine’s resident crew.  During 12-hour shifts that will eventually require descents as deep as  130 feet below ground level, workers enjoy all the comforts of a modern  workplace, including an air-conditioned conference room, bathrooms, an  infirmary, and even a fully equipped kitchen. At Bertha’s maximum  velocity of 6.5 feet an hour, they do not need seat belts. Even such  sluggish progress, however, remains a dream. Since beginning drilling at  the end of July, Bertha has traveled an average of less than 6.5 feet a  day — a total of just 1019 feet.

Initially,  fiberglass rods in her launch bay wall proved unexpectedly difficult to  digest. Then a labor dispute over which union would get the (four!)  jobs transferring muck from Bertha’s conveyor belt to barges for  disposal halted work for over a month.
Then after a series of minor repairs and tweaks, she was revved back up — and promptly hit a mystery obstacle.  Workers are now pumping hundreds of thousands of gallons of groundwater  away from the cutting face to see exactly what is blocking Bertha’s  path. If, as they suspect, it is a boulder left over from Seattle’s  glacial past, Bertha should be able to shift it. If it is something more  exotic, simply ploughing ahead could damage her drills and blades. (An update on January 3: the obstructions are metal pipes left over from previous test digs by other contractors that should have been removed.)
Such  caution is probably justified: once the machine has moved a total of  2,000 feet, construction crews following the borer will begin building  the tunnel’s interior roadways. By sealing in the machine from behind,  there will be no way to remove Bertha until she pops out in the shadow  of the Space Needle, still scheduled for late next year even after all  the holdups.
Many  further challenges lie ahead, not all of them geological. Seattle’s  soil is a chaotic mix of clays, silt, sand, and landfill from previous  civic engineering projects, and the majority of excavated material is  expected to be contaminated to some degree.
Even  more seriously, tunneling through this unstable soil could cause  subsidence at the surface. Over 150 buildings above the tunnel route  have had seismic monitors fitted to detect movement. The viaduct itself  has had a protective layer of carbon fiber applied and will be  temporarily closed while the machine burrows beneath.
While  the tunnel’s engineers express confidence in meeting their $2 billion  budget and late 2014 completion date, history suggests that cost and  time overruns are likely. The Channel Tunnel between England and France,  which employed tunnel-boring machines as large as 29 feet in diameter (less than half Seattle’s monster), eventually came in 80 percent over budget.
Studies  by the Washington State Department of Transportation suggest that even  when the tunnel opens (possibly in 2015), it may not help Seattle’s  famously snarled traffic. Proposed tolls would likely force motorists to  divert to city streets and the nearby I-5 motorway, increasing  congestion there.
When  Murray’s predecessor, Mike McGinn, took office in 2009, he vowed to  halt the tunnel’s construction, citing worries that cost overruns could  affect the city’s basic services. His campaign culminated in a failed  citywide referendum that shattered his credibility and has been blamed  for his inability to win re-election against the staunchly pro-tunnel  Murray.
Bertha  has already chewed up and spit out one politician. As Murray settles in  to his new role, he will surely be hoping that Bertha speedily finds  her appetite for muck, not mayors.

Mark Harris is a regular contributor to The Magazine. His most recent feature looked at red-light cameras, and how there is scant evidence to show  improvemnts in safety as a result—just an uptake in fee collection.
 

 
 
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