|
www.times.org IN THIS ISSUE Willamette
Industries' Dirty Air
by Paul Koberstein and John Paul Williams
ENDGAME
The
future is now for Snake River Salmon and four Federal Dams FOREST
ROADS RAIDING ALASKA |
The Future is Now for Snake River Salmon and Four Federal Damsby Elizabeth Grossman Part 2 Driving north from Hermiston, Oregon toward the Columbia, then east along the stretch of river canyon called the Wallula Gap, I pass a series of irrigation pumps, a marina where some handsome sailboats are moored, and rock outcrops so striking, it's hard to remember that what I'm seeing is but a remnant of what the river was. Above the river are great swooping hillside fields, planted or plowed for grain. As I drive east, the slopes become steeper and the soil darker as I enter the Palouse, the rich deep soil laid down eons ago in the wake of retreating inland seas. Further east along the Snake, old homestead farms are nestled in the clefts of hillside. Some of the hills are plowed at what looks to be a precariously vertical pitch. Moving eastward, irrigated fields of potatoes and vegetables, orchards and vineyards give way to dryland crops of wheat and legumes -- soy and lentils. After the huge industrial storage sheds and processing plants along the mid-Columbia, the chip and pulp mills, and cottonwood farms clustered at the confluence of the Snake and Columbia - the roads along the Snake, and winding through the canyons, stretch out in rural isolation. Towns like Windust, Kahlotus, Almota, Dusty, Starbuck and Washtucna are marked by little more than their grain elevators. It seems clear that as the roads improved, the distances between these small towns and cities of Kennewick, Richland, Pasco, Clarkston, Lewiston, Walla Walla and Colefax shrunk, eventually eliminating the demand for local car dealerships and supermarkets. Pomeroy's storefronts sport signs announcing antiques and collectibles, but the predominance of John Deere and other heavy farm equipment dealers in the towns that still have viable commercial centers, indicate that espresso-sipping tourists are a scarcity. Construction of the dams changed life and the lay of the land along the mid-Columbia and lower Snake dramatically. But there is little evidence of what was before, and it's difficult to imagine this broad flat stretch of river as one that surged with rapids and steep waterfalls. At Ice Harbor, I follow a road uphill above the dam. It leads to a high spot with a long view of the river, where a low brick and cement wall surrounds a large brick red chunk of what must have been river canyon wall. The rock is emblazoned with petroglyphs. This, a brass plaque tells me, is "A Memorial to the Ancestors of the Indians Now Known as Colville, Nez Perce, Umatilla, Warm Springs and Yakima. They lie near "Where the Two Rivers Meet."" The plaque is dated 1965. I squint in the sun and sketch the petroglyphs in my notebook. On another plaque I read, "A Memorial: Indians once came to the river rapids to fish for salmon. here they met friends, traded, played games, danced and sang. After drying their fish they moved back to their villages. But some were not destined to return home. They lie in burial grounds along the river. Now they rest undisturbed beneath the waters of Lake Sacajawea. This great boulder carved with petroglyphs by earlier Indians was taken from near the river bank and here commemorates the flood burial sites. By this act we bind together the generations." The flood refers to the rising of the 32 mile long Lake Sacajawea created when the dam was constructed. I wonder about the binding of generations. The four dams of the Lower Snake River are, in downstream to upstream order -- moving west to east: Ice Harbor, Lower Monumental, Little Goose and Lower Granite, built in 1962, 1969, 1970 and Ô75 respectively, by the Army Corps of Engineers. The dams create a slackwater navigation channel inland from Lewiston, Idaho to the Columbia River, so the produce of the inland northwest can be transported by barge to Pacific coast ports, namely Portland, Vancouver, Kalama and Longview, Washington. These ports represent a huge volume of business for the region. They are run-of-the-river, hydroelectric dams which also supply water for irrigation. They retain no drinking water, and perform no flood control. The four dams now generate only about 5 percent of the Northwest's electricity. They provide irrigation for thirteen large farms, not by storing water, but mainly by raising the level of water in their slackwater pools to more easily pump water to crop fields, orchards and vineyards. That dams also kill salmon is a fact that not even the Army Corps of Engineers can deny. The dams alter water temperatures as the river levels, and rate of flow, are artificially controlled. The dams' spillways elevate the levels of dissolved gasses in the river water which can also seriously harm fish. The dams block the passage of young fish migrating to the ocean where they will mature, and the return of adult fish upstream to spawning grounds in their native rivers and steams. The slow water lakes also make good fishing grounds for birds. The dams' turbines create a potentially lethal hazard for fish to negotiate. "The highest mortality en route to the ocean, in earlier times and now, happens "at the concrete," as a result of passage through the turbines or elsewhere," reports the Columbia Basin Bulletin citing National Marine Fisheries Service researcher Bill Muir. In the parking lot on the north side of Lower Monumental, is a pick-up with a "Save Our Dams" bumper sticker. In Clarkston, Washington I pass an alley where a "Save Our Dams" display, clearly designed for a parade float, is lodged. And in the "Comments" section of the visitors books in the visitors centers at all the dams are messages from dozens of school children: "Save our dams!" I wonder if they have been coached. Over the past 35 years, the region's economy has become accustomed to what the dams provide, and far from everyone is convinced that removing the dams is the way to save salmon. "It is simply irresponsible to call the dams 'a killing field' for salmon and focus the entire debate on dams when ...there are myriad causes to this problem -- including over fishing, possibly by Alaskans," said Representative George Nethercutt, R-Wash., in a press release responding to the debate over a rider Senator Ted Stevens, R-Alaska, attached to the Commerce Appropriations bill that would have waived ESA protection for salmon in Alaskan waters. Nethercutt's comments reflect the fear of change and misinformation behind the views of many of those who oppose dam removal. "There is an agriculture economy that would be destroyed by the destruction of the Lower Snake River dams," said Nethercutt speaking on the House floor in October. "There is recreation that would be destroyed. There is energy production that would be destroyed. There is flood control that would be destroyed." "Who's going to pay for all of these changes?" asks irrigation consultant Fred Ziari. "What is the most cost effective? Without direct involvement of farmers and ranchers in the Northwest there will not be any meaningful salmon recovery," he cautions. Like others who are wary of dam removal and of spending more money on models and studies, Ziari points to habitat restoration projects in the Umatilla Basin and Okanagan valley that are showing signs of success. Habitat restoration is indeed the key to salmon recovery, but it must be looked at on a large watershed-wide, as well as very local basis. It is important, fisheries scientists such as Charles Dewberry and Jim Lichatowich have written, to protect places where salmon are now thriving and make sure that conditions there do not deteriorate. At the same time, unless all factors in the watershed are addressed, ultimately recovery cannot succeed. In the debate over Pacific salmon recovery, there has much finger pointing and isolation of problems. Is the Caspian terns, the sea lions? Is it the fishing? The logging in the uplands, the grazing, agricultural irrigation, industrial pollution, urban and suburban development? For a long time it was believed hatcheries with their industrial strength propagation of fish could make up for the loss of native fish runs. In his new book, Salmon Without Rivers (See review on Page 17), Jim Lichatowich describes the link between dams and hatcheries as "The merger allowed the industrial development of the water by substituting hatcheries for wild fish and reservoirs for free-flowing rivers." "As the total number of wild salmon in the Columbia Basin declined," Lichatowich writes, "salmon from the hatchery program began to make up a larger and larger percentage of the total run. Today, as proof of their success, hatchery advocates note that artificially propagated salmon make up 80 percent or more of the total number of salmon on the Columbia, but they fail to mention that the total run has crashed to less than 5 percent of its historical abundance." While hatcheries will continue to play a role in salmon restoration, it is clear that what their champions hoped for has been a dismal failure. The development Columbia-Snake system of hydropower, navigation and irrigation was based on the belief that hatcheries could make up for the destruction of wild fish. Trying to redirect the system is like trying to turn one of the supertankers docked at the rivers' mouth. "The biggest risk is uncertainty," says Craig Smith, Vice President of the Northwest Food Processors Association, which represents the industry that, according to Smith, produces -- among many other fruits and vegetables -- "basically 80% of all the French fries made in the United States." Smith describes the current salmon recovery process as "a huge black hole. A lot of time and a lot of effort have gone into it," he says, "and we haven't seen a whole lot come out of it yet." "The biggest frustration is while we discuss big hot political issues," Smith says referring to the question of dam removal, "there are so many things we could be doing for habitat and fish recovery." The food processors represent folks involved in the growing and shipping of produce, those who depend on the Lower Snake's shipping channel to barge their wares, and on the availability of river water for irrigation. I ask Smith about water conservation. About "half as much water is being used as was 15-20 years ago," even though the number of acres watered has increased, Smith tells me. There are water conservation programs, such as one being tried in Washington's Yakima Valley, Smith says, that are "financing growers to be more water efficient." But he wonders how much water can be saved. Referring to the volume of water now available for irrigation from the pools formed by the dams, Smith says, "You're just not going to make up that much water." But he admits that with capital -- new hi-tech water-saving methods are expensive -- a significant volume of water could be saved, or used more efficiently. I ask about transportation. What goes on the barges, Smith explains, is almost entirely produce going west for export to the Pacific rim and Asia. Shipping east is mainly by rail or truck. Much has been made of the cost-effectiveness of barging. According to Smith, one of the reasons for the savings is that it's less expensive to load once into a container that goes directly onto the ocean-going vessel, rather than re-loading from truck or train. "Transportation," Smith says, "is important to our industry, but not as important as it is to pulp paper and wheat." According to the Columbia Snake River Marketing Group, the "Columbia-Snake is the largest wheat transportation system in the U.S., handling 43 percent of all U.S. wheat exports and 23 percent of all U.S. grain exports." Their estimate for total waterborne cargo value through this system in 1997 is $13.1 billion. This is big business. And while some in the region are researching alternatives which could preserve economic viability and recover salmon, other wheels are in motion (specifically the project to deepen the Columbia River shipping channel to accommodate deeper draft vessels) to expand the existing system. (The channel deepening project -- whose draft EIS does not deal with possible effect of potential drawdowns on the Snake River dams, and which the EPA has criticized for insufficient attention to restoration -- also seems to call into question federal agencies' commitment to improve conditions in the basin's estuaries. NMFS has recently come out in favor of the project.) A report prepared for the non-profit groups American Rivers, Trout Unlimited and others, by Dr. G. Edward Dickey, formerly the Chief of the Planning Division for the Army Corps of Engineers and Acting Assistant Secretary of the Army (Civil Works) during the Bush Administration, lays out the costs of shifting away from barge transportation to rail and truck. "The four federal dams on the lower Snake enable river barge transportation of commodities, principally grain, from as far inland as Lewiston, Idaho -- 465 miles from the Pacific Ocean -- to deep-water ports," writes Dickey. "If the dams are removed, commercial barge navigation would be eliminated in the Snake River, making the Tri-Cities, Washington, the furthest inland port accessible by river barge." According to Dickey 55 percent of the grain that's shipped to Columbia River export terminals arrives by rail, 43 percent arrives by barge, 2 percent by truck. Of the 43 percent that arrives by barge, 55 percent is shipped out of Snake River ports. 75 percent of the goods that travel on the Snake is grain, Dickey reports, 18 percent woodchips and logs. The majority of the grain comes from Washington state. Dickey points out that construction of the dams was funded by taxpayers, and that ongoing operations and maintenance of the dams is also financed by taxpayers. Approximately 10% of the annual operating costs of the four Lower Snake dams is allocated to navigation. The other 90% goes to hydropower; that cost is borne by regional electricity ratepayers. According to Dickey's analysis, it would cost the federal government at most $162.5 million, and the states, $108.5 million, to augment the existing transportation infrastructure to make up the difference in carrying capacity if the current volume of barge were curtailed by breaching of the lower Snake dams. The current navigation subsidy is approximately $10 million a year, and barging by some accounts is the most heavily subsidized form of transportation in the country. Proponents of the existing transportation system cite statistics showing that the current volume of barge traffic creates fewer carbon monoxide and hydrocarbon emissions than the truck and rail that would be required for the same carrying capacity. But could that be improved upon? And what about the hydropower? These four dams, according to the Army Corps of Engineers have "peaking output of nearly 3.5 million kilowatts...more than enough generating capacity to supply the electrical...needs of three cities the size of Seattle." Electric power, being invisible -- unlike barges, wheatfields and fish -- is not an easy concept for some of us to grasp. It is explained to me that since the Lower Snake dams are "run-of-the- river" projects that produce more energy in wet years than they do in dry. This means that the value of the energy, like any other commodity, varies. Analyses of the cost of producing electricity from the Snake River dams show -- when taxpayer subsidies are figured in -- that it is not competitive, and actually costs the region money. If the regional power system were to lose the 5-8% of its total production that these dams provide, costs to ratepayers would not rise dramatically. Some accounts estimate such a change would add about $4 to regional monthly electric bills. The Columbia River hydropower system was not built with individual consumers in mind, however. Cheap electricity for residents of the region has been a by-product of generating power for industry. Of course none of these are changes that can be made by flipping a switch. Changing the scheme of transportation from Lewiston, Idaho to Pasco, Washington would involve rearranging a good many of the 4,830 jobs influenced by the ports of Lewiston, Clarkston and Whitman County, Washington -- as counted by the Columbia Snake River Marketing Group. Dickey's plan, though it does not detail such, calls for "mitigation" planning and funding: economic development money to support communities that would be affected by such a transition. The Army Corps' Draft Environ-mental Impact Statement fails to provide a transitional plan for replacing the dams, says American Rivers, and fails to fully reflect what such benefits would bring to the region. Still, the latest agency reports indicate dam removal to be the least expensive recovery option, especially when the costs of basing recovery solely on habitat and harvest have yet to be calculated. When considering the social implications of removing or altering current dam use on the Lower Snake, it's also worth remembering that Lower Granite was finished in 1975, only 25 years ago. It's not that long ago that the cities of Lewiston and Clarkston had their lives changed dramatically, so it is not surprising that talk of dam breaching would be met by resistance or skepticism. These cities do not look as if they're populated by Microsoft millionaires. These are towns whose circumstances are clearly influenced by their pulp mills, factories and ports. If the use of the dams were to change, or lower Snake became a free-flowing river again, life would have to change again for these communities. Obviously much thought must be devoted to how that might happen. A study analyzing the economic impact of bypassing dams, using data collected by the Army Corps of Engineers, has been released by University of Oregon professor Dr. Ed Whitelaw and ECONorthwest. The study concludes that the Corps' own analyses have seriously underestimated the economic benefits of dam breaching. "This study delivers much needed perspective on the overall benefits of restoring healthy salmon runs," said Don Sampson, executive director of the Columbia River Inter-Tribal Fish Commission in a press statement. And so political wrangling continues over which vision of salmon restoration will prevail. Despite all the we have learned about the importance of considering the health of an entire watershed, the big question of restoring Columbia Basin salmon is still being dodged. Will it work to restore the estuaries and upland tributaries without returning any natural conditions to the rivers' main stems? Will the politics be moved by the science? There are difficult decisions to be made, and no absolute guarantees of success, but the longer we wait, the fewer fish there will be, and that cannot bode well for anyone or anything in the region. On the way home to Portland, I visited McNary Dam, on the Columbia just north of Umatilla, Oregon. On the south side of dam is the Pacific Salmon Visitor Information Center, several stories of concrete and glass, with metal walkways overlooking the dam's Juvenile Bypass Facility. Inside the center are imposing fish models and lots of literature. (I don't see an interactive electronic game of "hangman" like the one at the Ice Harbor visitors center.) I walk outside to look at the raceways and see an apparently dead steelhead slide by. "Salmon smolts are loaded onto barges at the rate of 5000 per minute," says an information card. "How long would it take to fill an average barge-load of 450,000 salmon?" I try to take a picture of the steelhead but it is gone. "Raceway ponds hold the fish until they are ready to be transported downstream," reads another card. "At that time they flow through pipes to a barge. Imagine riding with the fish down the river until they are released below Bonneville Dam." Steerage, I think, and leave to find the fish viewing room at the other end of the parking lot. Inside the small concrete building the light is greenish, reflecting the murky haze of water behind the glass. There are no shiny leaflets, educational exhibits or informational displays of any kind. The room looks to have been cast aside in favor of the new facility with its videos and fiberglass models. Behind the cloudy glass an eel and a carp struggle by in the current. |
