Category: Environment

When I heard that Perry Island’s shoreline had been smothered in Exxon’s crude oil, it was as if a family member had passed away. That was 20 years ago. Since 1985, nearly half my life, I have been teaching kayaking in the Sound, observing its natural history, admiring its beauty and studying its ecology.

I find solace in the routine of returning to its landscape and abundant natural life. The familiar smells of the spruce-lined shores, the ubiquitous sea otters and seeing “Bent Fin,” the social male of the resident AB pod of orcas, cemented my love of the place.

Kayaking there is like revisiting a dear friend and catching up on what has changed, what has stayed the same. In March of 1989, the Exxon Valdez spilled around 11 million gallons of oil into the Sound and polluted a little over a thousand miles of shoreline. I wondered if the Sound could ever recover. http://www.eoearth.org/article/Exxon_Valdez_oil_spill

The hardest news of all to hear was that Day Care Cove had been hit. I had been there many times and loved its granite shores and the abundance of sea otters, harbor seals and pups that gave the Cove its name. All of us who knew the Sound wanted to do something, anything.

Kelly Weaverling, one of the original kayak guides in the Sound, organized a program on Perry to watch the cleanup conducted by Exxon’s contractors. It seemed like a good idea, so that May my friend Dori and I paddled the 45 miles from Whittier to help Kelly. When we arrived at Day Care, we found the Cove’s once emerald water and shore covered in a black layer of oily goo. It created a stench that smelled like the exhaust coming from an old truck burning motor oil.

The fumes overpowered all of our senses, and gave us instant headaches. Death, even if made evident only by the absence of life, was omnipresent. The once plentiful sea otters and harbor seals, the pigeon guillemots and murrelets were gone. Above the tide line, Perry Island was seemingly the same beautiful place we had known for years: the soaring peaks, the beautiful old growth forest and the plunging waterfalls. But its white granite shores were now black. Like an empty, burned-out house, it was no longer a home.

We landed on a small beach, avoiding the oil as best we could. Like Klister ski wax, it stuck to our boots, spread to our pants and into our hair. The activity of the cleanup was everywhere. The cleanup crews created trails and camps, and left trash strewn across the landscape. We spent a restless night camping next to the Cove, and in the morning we were plagued with headaches and nausea.

Sickened by the sight and smells, the next day we fled from Perry in spite of a late spring storm moving in over the water. Typical of storms in the Sound, it started slowly, with winds shifting from the south to southeast. After leaving the Cove’s protection, we paddled around the south end of Perry and across Perry Passage on the way back to Whittier.

Normally I do not make this four-mile crossing when a southeasterly is blowing—the 20-plus-mile fetch can build waves to 10 feet or more. However, the storm was a mild one and escaping the toxins on Perry seemed more important than the known risks of kayaking through familiar yet stormy waters. We made the crossing safely, and as we paddled back to Whittier I wondered if the Sound would heal.

Despite my heartrending experience in May, I was drawn back to the Sound as if to an old friend in need. That summer I returned to Perry Island, teaching kayaking to a group from the National Outdoor Leadership School. We hiked across the island to see Day Care Cove. Proving that beauty is relative, my students thought the cove was amazing. One student commented, “Beats the Chicago boat harbor!”

I was impressed that the oil was apparently all but gone from the beach after multiple cleanings. Yet oily sheens on the water, the kind you’d see if someone had spilled several gallons of gasoline, were evidence that some of the millions of gallons of oil that covered the Sound just a few months before was still present. Day Care Cove had regained its beauty, but to me, without its wildlife, it was just an empty shell.

I returned almost every year for the next 10 years. Each trip had a familiar routine: camping at Meares Point, looking for the return of intertidal life and sea lions, and anxiously paddling into Day Care wondering if the otters had returned. Initially, the shore and sea were bare and devoid of life. After the first year, barnacles began to appear as small white specks looking like dandruff on the grey-colored slate rocks.

Rockweed—a brown algae—covered the Sound’s intertidal zones. A couple of years after the spill, seastars and sea urchins appeared. Year after year, the shore slowly came back to life. Eventually sea lions returned and the occasional otter and harbor seal popped up in the Cove. Even the damage to the land done by the cleanup crews—the trash, trails and camps—was gradually being swallowed up by the Sound’s temperate rainforest.

The Sound appeared to be healing, the winter storms washing the beaches clean one wave at a time. In fact, despite the tremendous human effort to clean the Sound, most scientists concluded that the Sound’s winter storms did just as good a job ridding the beaches of oil as did the cleanup crews. But for every hopeful sign I saw, I also knew that oil still lurked beneath the surface. I could easily find it by digging a foot or two into most oiled beaches. Many of the damaged species, like marbled murrelets and the AB pod of orcas, were not recovering. The Sound had changed and I doubted if it could ever fully recover.

Exxon settled its civil and criminal legal cases with the state and federal governments by creating a trust fund to be used to study damaged resources and help the Sound heal. Hundreds of millions of dollars have been spent studying species like sea otters, harlequin ducks and orcas, and buying easements and land to preserve habitat critical for nesting birds and salmon. Ironically, some of the money from the criminal settlement was also used to build infrastructure to encourage tourism.

According to a study done by myself and Dr. Chris Monz of Utah State University, the improved access to the Sound has been detrimental to the area in more ways than the spill. A new road to Whittier brought more powerboats, kayakers and personal watercraft. Though the oil spill affected only a portion of the Sound’s beaches and waters, the increased tourism affects most all of the Sound.

For instance, after looking for five years this past summer we found our first invasive plant species, Pineapple Weed, on a Black-Legged Kittiwake rookery near Valdez. My and Dr. Monz’s study showed that the influx of people and boats also may be having an impact on species like harlequin ducks that are struggling to rebound to their pre-spill numbers. The recreational users of the Sound, though a welcome addition to local economies, also made it feel more crowded. It seemed like the final blow to the Sound’s wilderness. With each passing year, it was harder for me to imagine the Sound ever being close to its pre-spill natural wonder that attracted me to it in the first place.

A few years ago, almost 17 years post-spill, I had all but given up on the Sound. Some species like the murrelets, harlequin ducks and some pods of orcas still had not recovered, and I was disappointed by the influx of people and boats. I planned a sort of goodbye tour.

I’d spend a few years seeing all the Sound that I could and visit my favorite places. For two years I paddled every month of the year there, even in the middle of winter. I had spent most of the past summer studying recreational impacts. I thought that after revisiting 500 miles of shore and more than 200 campsites, including Day Care Cove, I would move on to wilder places.

Yet, surprisingly, while kayaking that summer it all came back. Everywhere I went I saw a place that seemed to have recovered to what I remembered prior to the spill. I saw few people but lots of otters, sea lions and waterfowl. Each day, paddling by waterfall-draped cliffs and seeing sea otters munching on shellfish, I began to feel my old connection to the Sound returning. The empty solitude of the fjords filled with the sounds of booming, calving glaciers. Paddling the east coast of Perry Island, I noticed that sea lions covered the rocks. In Day Care Cove I saw harbor seals, sea otters and harlequin ducks.

In the years since the grounding of the Exxon Valdez, I may have changed too. A couple of decades older now, I have slowed down. I’ve lost friends to avalanches, heart attacks and cancer. I’ve also seen babies born, grow up and graduate from college. I’ve come to find beauty in nature’s resilience.

I know that oil still lurks in the beaches of Prince William Sound, slowly releasing toxic hydrocarbons. I know that the improved access continues to lower the chances of my finding solitude and quiet there. Still, for everything I’ve seen that has discouraged me, the slow pace of the kayak has allowed me to see much of the beauty and vitality that attracted me to the Sound when I first kayaked there in 1985. At some point in this past summer I realized that I would be kayaking in Prince William Sound the rest of my life.

I could have given up on the Sound, but its recovery made me hopeful. I truly cared about the place and I could not give up on it any more than I could give up on a good friend. When a friend has a difficult time, we help them through it as best we can. We can do the same for the places we care about by Leave-No-Trace camping, volunteering to clean trash from beaches, or supporting causes that preserve wilderness and wildlife habitat. I’ve done that for the Sound. It deserved no less from me.

Head down, into the wind, paddling north towards Missisquoi Bay in Lake Champlain, I yelled across the water to the woman in the gray kayak ahead and to my right.

“Hey, Martha! What was that you said about wanting to kayak on a big freshwater lake because you don’t like the way tidal areas smell? I’m not so sure freshwater lakes smell any better. We’ve been downwind of some big dairy for ages now!”

Martha laughed and yelled back, “I don’t know. The chart says that’s Hog Island Point. Maybe we’re downwind of a pig farm. Can you smell the difference between cows and pigs?”

Jim joked with us about honing our “odor identification” skills, learning to distinguish aromas wafting over the water, whether they were a combination of silage and cow manure or just plain cow manure.

This trip wasn’t turning out quite the way we had planned it. Martha had convinced me to try something new for us, an extended kayak trip on freshwater instead of our usual trips to the coast of Maine. I thought I’d miss the dynamics of tides and ocean currents, but Martha had reassured me that there would be no hauling of gear and boats across intertidal areas, and that the lake would be warmer than Maine’s frigid waters, perfect for swimming without ending up with a salty coating on our skin. It sounded good to me.

We’d heard that the Missisquoi Delta area was a lovely place with lots of migratory birds and the Paddlers’ Trail Guidebook made it sound like one of the wilder parts of the lake. We hoped to see lots of ducks and geese as well as herons.

What I hadn’t expected was to find Lake Champlain looking like the tide had gone out. The lake doesn’t have daily tides but its level fluctuates between 6 and 9 feet over the course of the year. It is highest in the spring after the snow melts and lowest in the fall as the waters slowly drain out the Richelieu River to the north. This year was one of the driest on record for Vermont, so the lake level in September was near record lows.

When we paddled up around the Delta headed to Highgate Cliffs on the eastern side of Missisquoi Bay we found out just how low the lake was. What looked from a distance like navigable water was only a thin layer of water over mudflats choked with weeds and algae. Frustrated by the heavy clumps of weeds that clung to my paddle blades as I pulled them out of the water, I eventually developed what we called the Missisquoi stroke. Instead of pulling the blade straight up and out of the water at the end of a stroke, I slid the blade towards me before lifting it. It was slow going, but it kept the weeds off the blade.

At some point, even a special stroke didn’t make up for lack of water under the boat so Martha and I got out and pulled our boats with the bowlines slung over our shoulders. Jim had swung wide and away from the Delta and managed to keep paddling. Looking down at the slime streaked on my legs, I hoped we could find a place to swim when we got to the cliffs.

The slime didn’t end with the Delta. When Martha and I resumed paddling, we stopped to talk with several fisherman sitting in a big power boat. Jim commented on all of the algae and one of them said, “Well, that’s what you get when you have 9,000 cottages dumping their gray water directly into the lake.”

Warm temperatures, shallow water, and far too many nutrients from the lakeside dairies and farms, as well as all the lakeshore cottages, meant that all of Missisquoi Bay for as far as the eye could see was coated with a half-inch layer of bright green algae.

Highgate Cliffs, when we reached them, were as lovely as we’d hoped they would be. The water was warm and still, but knowing what I did about the water, I wasn’t about to go swimming. Stepping out of the kayak and wading into a rocky beach near the base of the limestone cliffs, my lower legs looked like the rocks along the water’s edge-coated with a layer of green algae. I wiped down my legs with my bailing sponge, and decided to look for a shady place to lounge in my camp chair.

Amid the rocks on the beach, I saw a big frog that was the same color as the lake algae. It stood still long enough for me to get a good look at its bright green spots and a chance to count its legs. I don’t normally count legs when I see a frog, but I’d read in the Paddlers’ Trail Guidebook and some other places about how the shores of Lake Champlain had an unusually high percentage of deformities in frogs and other amphibians. Scientists haven’t figured out why, but pollution in the lake is one possibility. After we stared at each other for a while, the frog hopped into the shade of the shoreline shrubs. It had the appropriate number of legs.

Algae blooms, thick weed growth, frogs with extra legs-even though I’d read about these things, I’d rarely come face to face with such strong evidence of serious environmental problems on a paddling trip. I was disturbed to see such a lovely place showing signs of ecological distress.

Concern about water quality issues and invasive plants and animals in Lake Champlain may be new to me, but it has been a concern for New York and Vermont for most of the last century. Both states have built facilities to treat the wastewater and runoff that flows into the lake water. Lake Champlain has three major types of water pollution-excessive levels of phosphorus, localized bacteria, and heavy metals and other toxic chemicals.

PHOSPHORUS

Phosphorus is a naturally occurring nutrient that is necessary for plant growth. It’s a major ingredient in many lawn and garden fertilizers. Phosphorus becomes a problem when excessive amounts of it end up in a body of water. High levels lead to increased plant growth and algae blooms like what we paddled through in Missisquoi Bay.

Besides being unsightly and hard to paddle through, algae blooms deplete the oxygen in the water, which hurts native fish species. Algae blooms in Lake Champlain can become toxic. In 1999, three dogs died after drinking an excess of lake water and ingesting toxic blue-green algae. On August 3, 2001, a temporary health advisory was issued in Vermont, warning people to keep children and pets out of the lake.

The three main sources of phosphorus are agricultural runoff, stormwater runoff, and wastewater and sewage discharges. Stormwater runoff occurs when rain or melting snow flowing over roads, parking lots, lawns, and rooftops flows into streams and rivers that feed into the lake. With increased urban and suburban growth around the lake, stormwater runoff is becoming a greater problem for the lake.

Although agricultural runoff is still the major source of phosphorus pollution in the lake, acre for acre, developed land contributes three to six times as much phosphorus as farmland does. Wastewater flowing through inadequate or overburdened sewage treatment facilities in the Lake Champlain watershed also contributes to the pollution of the lake, both as a source of phosphorus and bacteria, but recent improvements in wastewater treatment have improved the situation.

And then there are the cows. Vermont is famous for its dairy products and a lot of them come from the Champlain valley. All those cows produce a lot of phosphorus-rich manure. When it rains or the snow melts, nutrients leached from the manure run downstream to the lake. One source of phosphorus pollution-the spreading of cow manure on frozen fields in the winter-has been banned in Vermont, but still continues on the New York side of the lake.

BACTERIA

Increased levels of bacteria in the lake, such as E. Coli, have caused sporadic closures of some swimming beaches. Two beaches, Blanchard Beach in Burlington, Vermont and Essex Beach, New York, have been closed for swimming indefinitely due to elevated bacteria levels. A cleanup operation is in the works at Blanchard Beach. Sources of the bacteria include what are called “point sources”-specific places such as sewage treatment plants-as well as “non-point sources”-such as dog waste.

HEAVY METALS AND TOXIC CHEMICALS

Heavy metals, such as mercury, and toxic chemicals, such as PCBs, are a major factor in the water quality of the lake. High levels of mercury and PCBs have concentrated in the lake’s fish, especially the larger fish such as walleye and lake trout.

Both Vermont and New York have issued health advisories cautioning people to limit their consumption of fish caught in Lake Champlain. The New York State Board of Health advises that women of childbearing age and children under 15 should not eat any fish from Lake Champlain. One area of Lake Champlain, Cumberland Bay near Plattsburgh, New York, was the most significant known toxic waste site in the lake, and thought to be the primary source of PCB contamination in the lake’s fish.

Years of wastewater discharge and dumping of sludge by wood products industries near Plattsburgh were the source of Cumberland Bay’s PCB contamination. In 1999 and 2000, an extensive dredging project, costing over $30 million, removed approximately 140,000 tons of dewatered PCB-contaminated paper sludge from Cumberland Bay and took the sludge to approved disposal facilities. The concentration of PCBs was reduced to below hazardous levels and local residents are looking forward to enjoying their beach for the first time in half a century.

INVASIVE PLANT AND ANIMAL SPECIES

Invasive plant and animal species, including zebra mussels, Eurasian watermilfoil, and water chestnuts, pose another threat to the health of Lake Champlain. Most of the weeds I was trying to keep off of my paddle with a special stroke in Missisquoi Bay were Eurasian watermilfoil. A feathery, fern-like plant that grows on the bottom in shallow areas, its dense mats are more than just a nuisance for kayakers.

It also displaces native plants and provides little food value to wildlife. Eurasian watermilfoil first appeared in Lake Champlain in 1962 and has since spread to many of the shallow areas and bays of the lake, as well as other bodies of water in the Lake Champlain watershed. Because it can grow from stem fragments, it is easily spread between bodies of water by plant parts stuck on boats and boat trailers. (See “Marine Invaders,” SK Dec. ’01.)

On an island in the main body of the lake, I saw rocks covered with clumps of small, striped mussels. Zebra mussels came to Lake Champlain in 1993, likely spread as free-floating larvae in boat ballast and bait water or as adults stuck to boats. In less than ten years, they have become one of the lake’s most problematic invasive species, spreading through the lake and causing many economic and environmental problems.

Zebra mussels are the only type of freshwater mollusk that attaches itself to solid objects. Because they can live in a wide range of habitats, eat everything, and reproduce rapidly and prolifically, they are quickly outcompeting native mollusks. It’s not just other mollusks that feel the impact of zebra mussels. Water facilities, fish hatcheries, and industrial plants have spent over $5 million to keep zebra mussels from clogging intake pipes. By feeding from the water column, zebra mussels move phosphorus from the water to the sediment in the form of their waste product.

During my trips on the more northern areas of the lake, I didn’t see any water chestnuts. Currently, this non-native plant is found only in the southern parts of the lake where in some places it is so dense as to make boat traffic almost impossible.

Now there is concern that it may spread to the Missisquoi Bay area. Water chestnuts have been found in Quebec’s South River, just two miles from Missisquoi Bay. Water chestnuts are spread by a barbed seed casing that can stick to the undersides of animals as well as boat parts. Purple loosestrife (a wetland plant) and sea lamprey (a parasitic fish) are also problems in the lake.

So, What’s a Kayaker to Do?

Given the algae blooms, weed-clogged bays, and toxic chemicals found in parts of the lake, should kayakers avoid Lake Champlain? Will I? Each paddler makes his or her own decisions about what conditions they want to encounter on a kayak trip.

I know that I’ll go back. There are many lovely parts of the lake I look forward to exploring. I have a better understanding of the condition of the lake and the threats to it. I also feel a greater sense of responsibility to do my part to try to help Lake Champlain recover from its environmental woes.
Here’s what kayakers can do, not only for Lake Champlain, but for waterways everywhere.

Help reduce nonpoint source pollution.

1. Become an active member of a local or regional watershed group.

2. Use conservation practices on agricultural lands.

3. Plant trees and vegetation to help hold soil in place and reduce erosion, particularly in areas next to surface water.

4. Properly maintain your septic system; pump every few years.

5. Wash your car with non-phosphorus and biodegradable soap on your lawn rather than on your driveway so that excess water and detergents can soak into the grass.

6. Do not use unnecessary fertilizers; first, have your soil tested.

7. Do not disturb ground cover unless absolutely necessary.

8. Do not rake your yard waste into nearby streams, lakes or stormwater gutters.

9. Do not pour chemicals or motor oil down storm drains or into septic systems.

10. Do not use soaps or detergents that contain phosphorus.

11. Properly dispose of dog waste, preferably in a toilet.

Don’t contribute to the spread of invasive plants and animals.

1. Learn what invasive species are in the waters in which you paddle, how to identify them, and how to keep them from spreading between bodies of water. Each time a kayak or other item is used in water bodies infested by zebra mussels or other nuisance aquatic species, the kayak and equipment should be carefully inspected for evidence of these species. Remove any mussels or vegetation and dispose of them in the trash.

2. Drain all water from your kayak at the water’s edge before you load it on your car and head home.

3. Dry the kayak (and paddling gear such as wetsuits and PFDs) in the sun for at least five days after paddling in waters containing zebra mussels and before paddling in waters uncontaminated by zebra mussels. If you want to use your boat sooner or avoid excessive UV exposure to your gear, rinse off your kayak and gear with hot water or at a car wash.

4. Leave live aquatic bait and bait used in infested waters behind-either give it to someone using the same water body, or discard it in the trash.

5. When paddling in areas infested with Eurasian watermilfoil, be careful not to break apart the plant because milfoil spreads by plant fragments.

Leave No Trace

1. Practice impeccable Leave No Trace camping and outdoor travel skills.

2. Learn about the particular skills appropriate for Lake Champlain by reading information in the Lake Champlain Paddlers’ Trail Guidebook, or for general Leave No Trace information, visit the Leave No Trace Web site at www.lnt.org

Support the efforts of groups working on behalf of Lake Champlain.

1. Join the Lake Champlain Committee (sponsors of the Lake Champlain Paddlers’ Trail). Kayakers’ membership in the Lake Champlain Committee supports the continuing development of the Paddlers’ Trail as well as supports their advocacy, education and research work to protect Lake Champlain. Along with many other advocacy projects, the Lake Champlain Committee was instrumental in advocating for and monitoring the clean-up of PCBs from Cumberland Bay. An annual membership fee of $40 includes the annually published Lake Champlain Paddlers’ Trail Guidebook and Stewardship Manual.

2. Learn more about “Opportunities for Action: An Evolving Plan for the Lake Champlain Basin.” This plan is a pollution prevention, control, and restoration plan. The plan was endorsed in October, 1996 by the governors of New York and Vermont and the regional administrators of the US Environmental Protection Agency. The 1996 plan called for periodic updates, and 2001 marks the first revision of the plan. In October 2001, the Lake Champlain Basin Program released a draft of the update to the plan for public comment and review. Although the official public comment period is over, the program welcomes comments at any time. Visit the program’s Web site at www.lcbp.org to get more information about the Opportunities for Action plan.

3. Get Involved in programs to monitor and combat pollution and invasive species. Kayakers are an important source of information about the condition of Lake Champlain. The Lake Champlain Paddlers’ Trail Guidebook contains a Lake Health Observation Form that kayakers can use to record information about the sections of the lake in which they are traveling. The form contains sections related to Water Quality Conditions, Algae Blooms, Infestations of Aquatic Plants, and Stormwater and Wastewater Outfalls and Discharges. Complete the form and send it in to the Lake Champlain Committee anytime you paddle on the lake.

4. Become familiar with storm drain stenciling. Storm drain stenciling is an effective method to educate people about where water goes when it flows down their street and into the drains. Check out the Earthwater Stencils Web site (below) for information about how to get involved in storm drain stenciling.

5. Contribute to public awareness. Along with talking with other paddlers and friends, consider posting some of the humorous Urban Runoff Posters in places such as workplaces, schools, marinas, and outdoor stores. They are funny and effective educational tools. The Lake Champlain Basin Program has created a set of posters specific to the Lake Champlain Basin which are available on their Web site. The poster series was adapted from ones that were developed by the Washington State Department of Ecology and others. For information on how to get posters for use in other areas, check out the Earthwater Stencils’ Web site.