1969: A Banner Year for River Fires

In 1969, the Cuyahoga River in Cleveland was so clogged with floating logs, oil, old tires, paints, sewage, and flammable chemicals that the city declared it a fire hazard. Indeed, it did catch on fire in March of 1969, sparking so much public indignation that a legal framework for protecting water, the Clean Water Act, was passed three years later.

But not as many people know that the Buffalo River caught on fire a couple months earlier in January of 1969. (It's not a Buffalo first to be proud of, I know, but we take what we can get.)

David Beach, a blogger in Cleveland, argues that the fire in 1969 was a "great turning point in collective consciousness." By 2019, he says, the 50th anniversary of the river fire in Cleveland, we should push for environmental transformation in the Great Lakes.

Buffalo will share this anniversary in 2019. We missed the Clean Water Act deadline of fishable and swimmable waters by 1983. Let's at least make this deadline.

Mystery Foam Discharged from CWM

Picture above: yachts moored at the Youngstown Yacht Club

On mornings when the river water is warmer than the air, the Niagara River exhales a misty breath of fog that hovers above the water. Robbyn and I took to the river on just such a day in early October, with a shroud of fog so thick we could barely see in front of us. We hugged the shore lest we drift over to Canada without realizing it or get run over by a motor boat suddenly looming out of the pea soup fog. We launched into the white cloud at Joe Davis State Park and headed downriver.

After a few minutes of paddling, we discerned a yellowish-white substance on the shoreline--it wasn't fog or snow; it was a gelatinous, Jabba the Hut blob of foam. And it was coming from Chemical Waste Management's (CWM) pipe into the river.

Every year, CWM, a toxic waste dump in Porter, flushes out the water from their stormwater retention ponds. Supposedly, they treat it and then release it into the river. They have a permit to do so. However, their permit explicitly states that CWM will "not discharge floating solids or visible foam." Whoops.


Picture: Huge blob of foam at base of pipe, SPDES Permit No. 0072061, Outfall #001

Farther downstream, we spoke with a resident working on his dock. He had noticed the foam and said his property was right next to "some company." A house-cat delicately picked its way across the discharging pipe. Clearly, residents are unaware that an unknown substance is lurking in the vicinity and that parts of it break off and move downstream to private docks. Or that their pets may track it into their house.

The foam has been reported to DEC officials. It's still there, as of October 26th. Anyone who encounters foam, oil, or spills on the river are encouraged to report them to Riverkeeper at 852-7483 or report them directly to the NYS DEC spill hotline at 1-800-457-7362.

Water: a Dwindling Resource and an Increasingly Desirable Commodity

The United States' Southeast and West are in a phase of severe, chronic water shortages. Atlanta's water supply for four million people, Lake Lanier, could be dry in as little as four months. Experts in the Southwest foresee a 30 to 70 percent reduction in snowpack in coming years. This will dramatically reduce flow in the already beleaguered Colorado River, which provides water to 30 million people in 7 states. Click here for a recent article in the New York Times about the water situation in the Southwest.

All this has our increasingly thirsty country eyeing the Great Lakes more hungrily. Democratic presidential hopeful Bill Richardson, presently governor of New Mexico, hinted that a "proper use" of natural resources involved outsourcing of Great Lakes water to cities like Las Vegas. He quickly denied this after public outcry from Great Lakes states.

It's not just rivers and lakes in the South and West that are threatened by over-consumption, inappropriate development, and global warming, however--the Great Lakes are also shrinking. Levels in Lake Superior are at record lows, and water in Lake Ontario is seven inches below normal. Cargo ships that carry bulk materials must lighten their loads by 270 tons for each inch that lake levels drop. Click here to read the full article in New York Times.

The International Joint Commission, which helps manage US-Canada shared water resources, is starting a five-year, $17 million study to determine whether lower lake levels are a result of cyclical variation or climate change.

Great Lakes water should stay in the Great Lakes. But it's threatened from the outside and the inside. The population in Great Lakes States has decreased, giving Western states a surge of political clout. And some Great Lakes residents who ought to know better think to profit from dry conditions in the U.S. and China by building colossal water pipelines. Canadian journalist Diane Francis rejoiced the commoditization of our water on her financial blog, saying it will fetch a "hefty price" on international markets.

One thing is certain--we will be having a lot more discussion, arguments, and maybe even war about water in our future.

Like to fish and swim? Too bad.

October 2007 marks the 35th anniversary of the Clean Water Act, a landmark environmental law passed in response to environmental catastrophes of the 1960's that evoked public outrage, such as the "death" of Lake Erie and the fire on the Cuyahoga River in Cleveland.

The ambitious goals of the Clean Water Act, however, have not been met in its 35-year lifespan. The Act called for the elimination of pollutant discharges into waterways by 1985 and fishable, swimmable waterways by 1983. Over 20 years later, almost half of our country's water is too dirty for these fundamental uses. Raw sewage flows into our waterways when it rains. Toxics leach into the water from inactive hazardous waste sites. Wetlands are filled in as protections are rolled back.

The Clean Water Act must be revitalized, toughened, and enforced. No more excuses. As Senator Ed Muskie of Maine argued during the passage of the original Act in 1972,

"Can we afford clean water? Can we afford rivers and lakes and streams and oceans which continue to make possible all life on this planet? Can we afford life itself? Those questions were never asked as we destroyed the waters of our nation, and they deserve no answers as we finally move to restore and renew them. These questions answers themselves."

Niagara River News

Ontario St. Boat Launch
Have you even been to the Ontario Street Boat Launch? Located along the Riverwalk trail system, it's a popular place to launch a boat or catch a fish. The Black Rock-Riverside Good Neighbor Planning alliance is seeking proposals for a study to evaluate turning a half-mile stretch of land into a park that would include a playground, picnic shelters, indoor meeting space, and a dog park.

Unfortunately, the current preliminary plan also calls for paving over the mouth of Cornelius Creek, which emerges at the foot of Ontario St. Hopefully, the ultimate plan for this site will create a habitat-rich wetland at the mouth of the creek and address the sewer overflows that give the creek a persistent smell of semi-treated wastewater. In addition, Riverkeeper staff have noted crayfish, ducks, and other wildlife at the mouth of Cornelius Creek.

Click here to read the Buffalo News article about this.

Niagara River Toxic Update
Four environmental agencies met last night at the Holiday Inn on Grand Island to give an overview of cleanup efforts on the Niagara River in the last 20 years.

DEC's Don Zelazny said that 21 of the 26 of the most heinous hazardous waste sites have been remediated. The Niagara River is one of the most polluted places in the Great Lakes system, tagged as an "area of concern" in the 1970's by the International Joint Commission, which helps regulate waters shared by the United States and Canada.

Julie O'Neill, executive director of Riverkeeper, criticized the agencies for not seeking out public input or participation in river cleanup. She also criticized the agencies for sitting on the formal cleanup plan for the river, known as the Niagara River Remedial Action Plan. The four-agency commission is also reluctant to frame the remedial action plan to address the whole watershed. Perhaps they think the Niagara River will magically repel all the pollutants it receives from its massive land basin?

Click here to read the Buffalo News article by Aaron Besecker.

Lake Michigan Trout: Prize or Pest

In the Great Lakes System, lake trout are struggling. They sit at the top of the food chain and help manage the population of smaller prey fish. The federal government stocks Lake Michigan with 3 million lake trout every year. But for some reason, lake trout are having trouble producing offspring that survive. Some biologists think that alewives, a Great Lakes invasive species, produce an enzyme that causes a thiamine deficiency in lake trout. Another theory is that the 3 million lake trout stocked in Lake Michigan every year is not enough to engender a self-sustaining population in a lake that used to have 10 million trout.

Yellowstone National Park Lake, however, is teeming with lake trout. They are regarded as a pestilence that must be ruthlessly wiped out.

Why is the government trying so hard to save trout in the Great Lakes and destroy them in Yellowstone Lake?

Yellowstone managers believe that anglers illegally planted Lake Michigan trout in Yellowstone Lake some 13 years ago. Now, 70,000 lake trout are expected to be pulled from the lake this season.

In the Yellowstone ecosystem, lake trout dominate the native cutthroat trout, which in turn threatens grizzly bears, bald eagles, cougars, loons, and osprey who rely on the stream-spawning cutthroat.

The National Park Service's solution is to aggressively fish lake trout six months a year. Fish are clubbed or punched in the head if they're still alive, gutted, and dumped back into the lake to keep the nutrients in the system. They're not even kept for food because most are too small or too rotten by the time the nets are pulled from the water. At this point, Yellowstone managers hold no hope of eradicating the population; they spend $400,000 a year to control the lake trout population in order to give the cutthroat trout a chance.
Picture: Fishing crew toss the gutted lake trout back into Yellowstone Lake.

Click here to read the full article on Lake Michigan trout in Yellowstone Lake.

Invasive species wreak havoc on the ecosystem to which they have been introduced. The Great Lakes have over 180 invasive species, costing us billions of dollars in damage and management every year. Click here to read more about invasive species.

Scajaquada Canoe Club Reinhabits Hoyt Lake

This past Sunday, the Scajaquada Creek Canoe Club, many of whom are also Riverwatch Captains, took advantage of splendid late-October weather to paddle Hoyt Lake and partway downstream on the Scajaquada. Picking up garbage along the way, the group also spotted a leak in the dam that separates the creek from Hoyt Lake's north bay. A couple of lightposts that had been replaced along the expressway were also seen discarded into the stream! One interesting fact about the paddle: one Canoe Club member was dropped off at her job at the Historical Society--possibly the first commuter trip along the Scajaquada by canoe!

How Much We Love Buffalo River

Riverkeeper's October Buffalo River monitoring run began with the winds against us, literally, as we attempted to launch from Erie Basin Marina beach into a wild surf. Having shoved off the Riverwatch 1 canoe bearing the rest of the team (staffers Chris and Robin) into the maelstrom, I stuffed the nose of Riverwatch 2 kayak into a nice big wave and paddled out to join them.

It's always moments like these, sitting in 3 inches of wet water, with the summer conspiciously over, that I remember to buy that spray skirt thing to keep the water out of your boat. It's only been happening for, like, 10 years. Anyhoo, there we were plugging away for the mouth of the Buffalo River, but the gusting wind and relentless waves were just too much for big ole Riverwatch 1 which became first ornery and then impossible, bent on destruction upon the toothy riprap of the harbor's improved edge. Chris heeled around for shore and we beached the boats abruptly, like a couple of depressed whales. They lolled there, bashed by unsympathetic waves, as we contemplated hauling them back up over thirty yards of driftlogs and boulders to the (one) car.

Morale was really flagging, so we cracked out our lunch snacks and had a picnic. Afterwards, being wet anyways, we jumped over some waves (see photo evidence). Outlooks considerably improved, up we loaded and ahead we forged to Buffalo River's Smith Street launch, stopping on the way to pick up a coliform sample from Ohio Street.

The big river was just calm as could be, and the only wind to speak of was a tail wind. We paddled onward. Angry kingfishers rattled at us. Herons whooshed pterodactylly overhead. Fish leaped. Our clothes began to dry. We held a moment of silence under the South Park bridge for those departed. We documented presumed pump failures at the Mobil site that were allowing contaminated, black, diesel reeking groundwater to seep out the bank in its manifest destiny push for the river.

Our lunch for breakfast had worn off by the time we cozied up to Charlie O'Briens, a fine purveyor of Irish food and drink right on the river shore. O'Briens is conveniently located quite near the headquarters of B.R.A.W.N. (Buffalo River Assembly Wednesday Night), the conveners of which are in collusion with Riverkeeper, so we stashed our gear there and headed in to BLTs and other good things.

Back in the river, we headed to our pickup location at Harlem Road Fishing Access site, documenting the gross sewer overflow issues near Ogden Street along the way. Maybe someone was shooting a movie, as we found a Universal Studios scene changer and encountered a slick of fresh blood on a bleached tree beached in the middle of the river.

Diving into the usual car-and-boat crunch fiasco, with the help of Riverkeeper staffer Shannon and her trusty minivan, we got Chris to work, my car back to the boats, the boat back to Chris' and Robin & I back to the lab with our seven samples to run for total coliform and E coli counts. We'll be back in November to do it all (well, hopefully not all) again!

Strawberry Island Adventure

The mighty Niagara River has fourteen islands. Are you surprised there are so many? Some of her islands are like luxury cruise ships--they're so big, developed, and separated from the water that it's easy to forget you're on an island. From south to north, they are: Squaw Island, Strawberry Island, Motor Island (also known as Frog Island or Pirate Island), Beaver Island, Grand Island, Tonawanda Island, Navy Island, Cayuga Island, Goat Island, Three Sisters, Green Island, and Bath Island.

On September 19th, the ultimate destination of Riverkeepers Robbyn Drake, Chris Murawski, and Robin Douglas was the beautiful Strawberry Island. Once over 200 acres, Strawberry Island was mined for gravel in the 19th and 20th centuries and has diminished to approximately 20 acres.

But first, how did we get there? We decided to launch from Broderick Park at the foot of West Ferry in Buffalo. We considered launching from the riprap into Niagara River, but we were solemnly informed by a local handyman visiting the park that the current there rushed along at 21 knots, leaving no room for mistakes at launch. Also, we could potentially have a run-in with the border patrol if we crossed under the Railroad bridge. So, we decided to launch in the Black Rock Canal and attempt to pass through the lock at the northern end of Squaw Island.

As we approached the lock, we couldn't see anyone in the lock office. Should we climb the ladder? Should we wait for a larger boat and tag along behind? Finally, I ventured to call out "Hello!" The sound seemed to echo off the metal barriers along the side of the canal and the chain link fence that seemed excessively precautionary at this leftover of the Erie Canal. An Army Corps employee finally emerged from the office. We asked if we could pass through the lock in a canoe. The answer was--no. Apparently, you have to have a motor on your boat for the magical "Open Sesame." We rapidly considered and discarded several motor improvisations for our canoe--get a straw and blow into the water? make motor noises? Oh, bother!

Now what? Portage half a mile over Squaw Island or return to Broderick? The portage seemed too laborious to our already growling stomachs, so after much debate and several fortifying snacks, we returned to Broderick Park, reloaded our canoe on the car, and headed to Ontario Street Boat Launch.

From the Ontario St. launch, we cut across the wide river towards Strawberry Island. I've only seen Strawberry Island from the bike path so far, but I've always thought the island exuded mystery and enchantment. I could imagine falling asleep on its shores and waking up a hundred years later like Rip Van Winkle. Its peculiar shape, with two arms reaching out into the river at the northern end, must embrace secret inland coves with fish and waterfowl living almost completely undisturbed by noisy, invasive humans. Its verdant vegetation could hide unique island animals living and evolving separately from mainland species. Or would we surprise an adventurous deer or coyote who swam across the river to explore its entrancing shores?

As we approached, we could see the trees favored by nesting cormorants. Their droppings had killed several trees on the shore and had given stripped boughs of one tree the appearance of outstretched bleached bones. There seems to be an undercurrent of cormorant resentment--they compete with anglers for fish and they did after all kill a couple trees. And how glamorous is a bird who throws up when they're alarmed? But I was struck with their dignity as they sat like an avian tribunal in their bone-tree and looked down to watch us paddle by, as if they were a sphinx or oracle charged with extracting a password from all who wished to pass or raining down an unmerciful death. They calmly watched us pass by, however--perhaps because we didn't have a motor?

We paddled around the island and entered a cove at the northern end. Chris climbed into a cottonwood leaning precariously over the water. The tree was more over water than land, as if it was pushed off the land by the mob of riotous undergrowth along the shoreline. The water was crystal clear and refreshingly cool. We found clams as big as my hand and as old as I am burrowing into the river clay. We picked them up to admire their size and beauty and carefully replaced them in the mud. Clams that wild and wise aren't meant for chowder.

We pulled the boat up on the beach and cut across the island on a small path. There were toads everywhere. I was afraid I would step on them. Robbyn and Chris had sharper eyes and would point them out every other step. A couple sunbathers lay on the beach on the southern side of the island. I gathered some small smooth pebbles, marveling that the gentle waves would eventually turn them into particles of fine sand. We returned to the cove and waded in the rich chocolate mousse muck that felt more luxurious than any spa treatment. Robbyn and Chris swam in the river and caught crayfish lurking under the rocks with the zebra mussels. Pirate Island loomed in the river ahead, shrouded in its own mysteries.

At last, we left to paddle across to our final destination, the Tonawanda boat launch. Had a hundred years gone by while we frolicked on the island? Not this time.