Hello again, everybody. When we last met, Nine Mile Run was suffering from some unidentified cloudiness. Returning after a two week absence, I found that it had cleared to some degree, but was still a disturbing shade of unnatural. While I originally thought it might have been minerals leeched from the rock under Edgewood and Swissvale from the rains that week, I have to reconsider what is actually in the water. The last scientific reports on the stream available on-line are dated from 2008 and show a strong increase in the chloride content of the waters between January and the end of March. Of course, this data is not current, and barring an actual chemical test (which I can neither afford nor preform myself), I can only speculate that the change in color and opacity is due to an increased level of some chloride compound - as to what compound, I haven't the foggiest idea.
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| Daltrey, Entwistle, Townshend, and Moon are all not beyond suspicion, though. Maybe Moon is, come to think of it. And Entwistle. Now I'm depressed. Time to pour a drink, don the headphones, and blast some Quadrophenia. |
I have been holding off on this post since this past Thursday, when I was last in Frick Park. This weekend I was set to spend some time in Ohiopyle State Park on a writing retreat, and I wanted the chance to distance myself from Pittsburgh for a few days before I could write about it anymore. The semester is nearly done and soon I will have no reason to return to NMR regularly, or even at all, outside of my own whims. So I have to wonder now: what can I say now about Nine Mile Run that doesn't just re-hash old gripes or questions? Granted, the purpose of these blogs we maintain is to get us to examine a physical space in new and intimate ways. But what new ways are there?
Coming back from Ohiopyle, seeing clear-running streams free of litter and residential debris, I have to feel even worse for poor old NMR. It is enticingly easy to look at a stream like this one and say "Well, it's a little ol' stream dumping into a big ol' river, so it can't be all that bad in the big picture." True, the stream has improved greatly since the Homestead Steel Mill shut down and the Army Corps of Engineers removed what slag they could from the area, and true, it is a tiny stream emptying into the giant that is the Monongahela River, which helps form the Ohio river only nine miles away, which then empties into the even bigger Mississippi, and eventually into the Gulf of Mexico and then the great Global Ocean. Whew. One creek draining into thousands of miles of river and countless gallons of water - what's the harm, really? and why should I keep caring?
On the drive back from Ohiopyle today, a friend of mine mentioned that she had once floated a craft down most of the length of the Mississippi river. While she was planning this expedition, she had befriended a biologist who warned her to "not stick your head underwater below Wisconsin." Wisconsin. That still leaves everything from about Dubuque, Iowa, to New Orleans. Google Maps kindly informs me that would be a drive of about 1,014 miles, closely hugging the Mississippi river. That is only a little bit shorter than a drive from Pittsburgh to Miami, or about the same distance from LA to Denver. And the reason why? Submerging one's head in the river below that point exposes one to wicked infections from bacteria like fecal coliform bacteria that come in part from sewage discharges into the likes of tributary streams like NMR. Granted, more of the bacteria comes from agricultural runoff, but combined sewage overflow systems (like Pittsburgh's) are a contributing factor. Imagine a thousand miles of river contaminated by farm runoff and equally contaminated tributaries. It is difficult to picture that distance, especially considering that it is a thousand miles of the most voluminous river on this continent. The Mighty Mississippi - America's Toilet. All those little contributions all along the river, the tributaries, and all of their watersheds. All of that land - hundreds of thousands of square miles all channeled into one river. When you think of it in those terms, it is hard not to see the unavoidable connection we share with everyone along our watershed and the rivers that flow out of it. Thursday, while I was streamside, I say an empty bottle of Mountain Dew drift past me near the opposite bank. By now, it may be rounding Ohio, well on its way to pass by Missouri, where all the rest of Pittsburgh's trash ends up (*cough*Thom Dawkins*cough*).
But it was hard to focus on the negatives when I saw some of the grasses start to come up again, little bits of green unfolding along the banks. I could not help but feel a little bit more cheerful knowing that the leaves, the flowers, and all of the birds and insects they attract would soon be coming back to lend some vibrancy to the brown and grey backdrop of the barren trees. And Thom, if you are still reading, thanks for being a good sport. I have a great deal of respect for you, and just needed a cheap, edgy laugh.
Coming back from Ohiopyle, seeing clear-running streams free of litter and residential debris, I have to feel even worse for poor old NMR. It is enticingly easy to look at a stream like this one and say "Well, it's a little ol' stream dumping into a big ol' river, so it can't be all that bad in the big picture." True, the stream has improved greatly since the Homestead Steel Mill shut down and the Army Corps of Engineers removed what slag they could from the area, and true, it is a tiny stream emptying into the giant that is the Monongahela River, which helps form the Ohio river only nine miles away, which then empties into the even bigger Mississippi, and eventually into the Gulf of Mexico and then the great Global Ocean. Whew. One creek draining into thousands of miles of river and countless gallons of water - what's the harm, really? and why should I keep caring?
On the drive back from Ohiopyle today, a friend of mine mentioned that she had once floated a craft down most of the length of the Mississippi river. While she was planning this expedition, she had befriended a biologist who warned her to "not stick your head underwater below Wisconsin." Wisconsin. That still leaves everything from about Dubuque, Iowa, to New Orleans. Google Maps kindly informs me that would be a drive of about 1,014 miles, closely hugging the Mississippi river. That is only a little bit shorter than a drive from Pittsburgh to Miami, or about the same distance from LA to Denver. And the reason why? Submerging one's head in the river below that point exposes one to wicked infections from bacteria like fecal coliform bacteria that come in part from sewage discharges into the likes of tributary streams like NMR. Granted, more of the bacteria comes from agricultural runoff, but combined sewage overflow systems (like Pittsburgh's) are a contributing factor. Imagine a thousand miles of river contaminated by farm runoff and equally contaminated tributaries. It is difficult to picture that distance, especially considering that it is a thousand miles of the most voluminous river on this continent. The Mighty Mississippi - America's Toilet. All those little contributions all along the river, the tributaries, and all of their watersheds. All of that land - hundreds of thousands of square miles all channeled into one river. When you think of it in those terms, it is hard not to see the unavoidable connection we share with everyone along our watershed and the rivers that flow out of it. Thursday, while I was streamside, I say an empty bottle of Mountain Dew drift past me near the opposite bank. By now, it may be rounding Ohio, well on its way to pass by Missouri, where all the rest of Pittsburgh's trash ends up (*cough*Thom Dawkins*cough*).
But it was hard to focus on the negatives when I saw some of the grasses start to come up again, little bits of green unfolding along the banks. I could not help but feel a little bit more cheerful knowing that the leaves, the flowers, and all of the birds and insects they attract would soon be coming back to lend some vibrancy to the brown and grey backdrop of the barren trees. And Thom, if you are still reading, thanks for being a good sport. I have a great deal of respect for you, and just needed a cheap, edgy laugh.
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| From Deer Creek Trail, a tributary stream to NMR. |
4 comments:
Nice post. I wouldn't put that kind of nonsense past Moon at all haha. And now I have to go listen to Who's Next. Thanks for that! And I mean that in all seriousness.
Again, I'm necessarily going to see this post through my father the sewage plant operator's eyes, and I hear a lot about CSR's. My take was always that if many waters of a watershed are going to be combined, new technologies are going to have to change. From what I know of CSR's, it was my impression that they are one way to take several dirty streams and release it as one clean stream.
I don't know if that's correct, but I will definitely have more convos with my pops about it. Also, give me more questions to ask him, because he's a smart dude with much to give.
I don't know. Even if you never return to NMR, even if there isn't anything else to be said about it, that you've giving it a voice this semester is important. Really important.
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