Thinking Outside the Tracks

The Upper Basin Chronicles

Chapter 21

Thinking Outside the Tracks

NRCS conservationist Rick Garcia tugged on his cap's bill to secure it against the wind and fine spray. He leaned into the flatboat's turn. His host, Corps planner Larry Grimm, sped downriver in exhilarating fashion. Garcia was thinking about their start-and-stop conversation on involving the public in watershed conservation planning.

As the pair neared a sandbar between two wing dams, Grimm throttled back again to observe the activity among several boat-camping families who were fixing breakfast and preparing for another day of play on the river.

"I'm not naming names," he said, "but not too long ago one of the state biologists on the upper river said, 'The last thing we need is the public involved.' To be fair, he was referring to the main channel area, where we are now. Yet, for that attitude to exist at high official levels, is, to me, unacceptable. There's a paradox with this public involvement issue you need to be aware of," Grimm continued.

"Up in the watersheds, where you NRCS folks work, nearly all the land is privately-held, and you have to have the participation and cooperation of landowners to make a difference. Here on the main stem, most of the land is public, and the people not only don't know how to have an impact, but have little understanding of the issues -- that is, we don't communicate them well. Plus, many people feel that their input has little effect, so they feel disenfranchised and no longer bother. The river shows it."

"You mean a sort of 'tragedy of the commons' effect?" Garcia asked, referring to the trashing of public lands in the vacuum absent of obvious ownership.

"You're right, but it's subtle. Most people don't trash the river anymore, at least not outright. Instead, they tend to trash the people and programs responsible for the public lands. Plus, there's a lack of civility out here, too, another tragedy. Frankly, it's hard to blame people for cynicism after the Corps' nav' study mess, and with the attitudes in high places, like the state biologist."

The current had carried the flatboat within speaking distance of a boater washing the sand off the swim transom on his bright white, new 26-foot Sea Ray sport cruiser, the first of four similar boats together with a three houseboats moored to the sandbar.

"Catch any terrorists this morning?" the man asked when he noticed Garcia's uniform.

"Not yet, but we hope to," responded Garcia with a grin.

"While you're at it you could bust a few of those cigarette boat jerks whipping in here with big wakes and firecrackers in the middle of the night," the man began. "You know, I thought getting this bigger boat would make the us feel safer on the river, more than in the old family fishing boat anyway, but I'm beginning to wonder."

"Sorry to hear that," said Larry Grimm. "Did you radio the incident in to the Clayton County sheriff?"

"Yeah, we called 'em right after it happened. They said they were aware of the problem, and are working on it," the boater replied.

"They'll get 'em, don't worry," Larry Grimm stated flatly. "Enjoy that fine new boat today," he said as he shifted from reverse to forward. Garcia waved to the man as the flatboat idled downstream.

"That's big money there," offered Garcia with a gesture to the boats on the sandbar.

"You said it," Grimm answered. "When you talk about stakeholders, those folks qualify, and they have their issues. As do the fishing folks, the hunters, the water and jet skiers and wakeboarders, the bird watchers, the clean up folks, the steamboat and history buffs, the canoeists, even the highway 'overlookers' and photo tourists. There are literally thousands of people who love the river for its recreational value."

"But do we invest any funds in finding out about their concerns and ideas?" he continued. "The fact is we spend almost nothing on recreational research with the exception of a small, biannual recreational boating census. That's it. Neither the states nor the fed puts any priority on recreational management and support. The only governmental planning is ad hoc in parallel with other commercial, or navigation, or biological questions."

"So, isn't there a connection between the science on the health of the ecosystem and research on the impact recreation has on the river's health?" Rick Garcia asked.

Larry Grimm snorted a laugh, "You and I know there is, but that same state biologist, the one who doesn't want public involvement also says, and I quote, 'We don't need any more science, we know what the problems are, and we know how to fix them." Rick Garcia shook his head.

The day grew warmer with the climbing mid-continent sun. The Corps planner pulled his thermos from under the flatboat's control console and poured them more coffee.

Grimm went on, "After the drought of '88, we saw a tremendous vegetation die off, the vallisenaria (wild celery or eel grass) were practically completely gone, and many arrowhead stands were almost gone. No one know why. A COE researcher dug into it and discovered the answer by doing good science. Fact is that nitrogen is limited in so-called 'clean' waters, and unavailable to the flora. Our hope now is that the new drawdown programs will result in oxidizing the sediments, making the seeds sprout and the nutrients more readily available as things dry out in seasonal cycles."

"You don't discover that without research," Garcia commented. "I can imagine that the continuing loss of the plant communities would be devastating to all the recreational people you mentioned."

"You're absolutely right!" Grimm said emphatically. "Yet, the state and federal stakeholders barely view the recreational public as an equal partner. Only when their input is mandated by law do we public servants seek citizen points of view. We have tons of stakeholder meetings, but very few of them have any citizen involvement or input. We river managers do river management from railroad track to railroad track; we always have. We have a very hard time thinking outside the tracks. That's where you come in."

"Thanks.. I think!' laughed conservationist Garcia. "What about legislation? Aren't there any activists in Congress anymore?"

"You know," we have had some stewardship initiatives from various sources, and some have been more successful than others. This year's farm bill picked up some of the ideas on the conservation side, but those tend to be overshadowed by the pork of outright subsidies. Ron Kind, the House rep from western Wisconsin is kind of the lone ranger on river restoration. He needs more support. Other House members have signed on, but most of them don't really get too involved, unfortunately."

"Then, it seems to me," mused Garcia, "that people like my wife, the farmer, up in the small watershed, and the recreational folks down here on the big river need to get together to make themselves heard in Congress.

Larry Grimm thought a moment. He took his hand off the idling outboard's throttle, and stood up to stretch, stepping to the bow side of the console.

"You know, you've got something there, I think. Anyhow, it's your turn to take the helm. Have a chair."

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Next week... "Just Like Always," Chapter 22.

The Upper Basin Chronicles, Chapter 21 was written by John Gabbert and Barry Drazkowski, and edited by Martha Roldan and John Gabbert.

Comments? Email feedback to The Upper Basin Chronicles, Chapter 21

The characters presented here are purely fictional, and neither bear resemblance to persons living or dead, nor represent the views or opinions of Saint Mary’s University of Minnesota.