Removing Dams and Roads
It was a cold morning, a thin layer of snow on the ground, but the skies were blue and promising. We joined dozens of other people, quickly making our way up the icy road to a small bluff overlooking the confluence of the Clark Fork and Blackfoot Rivers, on the eastern edge of Missoula, Montana. When we arrived, we found hundreds already there, crowding along the edge. The air was electric, kids were sitting atop their parents’ shoulders craning to see; everyone waiting, anticipating the big moment.
For 100 years, the Milltown Dam blocked the confluence of these two rivers, providing much needed electricity long ago, but also preventing fish from moving upstream and downstream through the dam. For almost that entire period, this timber crib dam also acted as a barrier to hundreds of thousands of cubic yards of heavy metals and otherwise contaminated sediments, preventing them from reaching the rest of the Clark Fork River. The sediments were the result of tailings from the Butte and Anaconda mining districts 114 miles upstream. The entire 114 mile stretch constitutes the largest superfund cleanup site in the United States. And all those toxic sediments were perched behind an earthen dam of questionable stability.
People have been concerned about the dam, and the sediments trapped behind it, for decades. The Environmental Protection Agency had once considered and rejected a plan to remove the dam. Then, during the winter of 1996, a massive ice jam broke loose and traveled down the Blackfoot, taking out bridges, floodplain houses and everything else in its way. It was headed straight for the Milltown Dam. Authorities called out the National Guard and conducted a major drawdown of the reservoir to make room for the ice. While the ice stirred up the sediments, it spared the dam. One result of the drawdown, however, was that the contaminants released in the process caused huge fishkills. But it was only after this terrifying alarm that the federal and state government started to realistically consider removing the dam.
Study after study was completed to develop a plan for removing this dam without releasing all the toxins into the river (or having them pile up at the next dam, 100 miles away, in Thompson Falls, MT). Plans were drawn and redrawn. Controversies arose and were settled. Other controversies arose and weren’t settled — hard feelings remain because the toxic sediments are now being removed and sent by railroad back toward Butte, to join other toxic waste from the old copper mining operation. Nonetheless, for those of us on the bluff that day, there was only a sense of euphoria.
After digging through the crowd, we found a spot with a view. The old electric house from the dam site had been removed months before. They had also dug and lined an enormous bypass channel to allow the Clark Fork River to flow outside of the contaminated sediments and past the dam. That bypass fed into a small, new channel that directly skirted the dam itself. A small temporary dam (basically a big pile of dirt) blocked that new channel. It appeared that one scoop from an excavator would move everything and reunite the Blackfoot and Clark Fork rivers.
All sorts of political bigwigs were down at the dam site making speeches. They talked about how this $100 million project is restoring water quality, fisheries and recreational opportunities. They also talked about restoration as a great tool for creating well-paying jobs. In Montana, as elsewhere, investing in restoration pays off both ecologically and economically.
We waited as the restoration team raised the water in the reservoir to a higher level so it would flow as they needed it to. There was no dynamite, no explosion. But after a while, the excavator moved into place. It started taking bites out of the temporary dam. It took a lot more than one bite for the water to start flowing.
All of a sudden, a trickle of water began flowing down the new channel, around the dam. Then that trickle turned to a torrent, and the torrent to a flood. Initially, after the water started really flowing, things were a little anticlimactic. It wasn’t as extraordinary as I thought it would be. But then, as I looked out over the old reservoir, saw the current forming in the formerly still water, and saw the bypass channel pulling water away from the reservoir, chills went right through me.
We found other friends, people who had driven from around Montana to see this historic event. We drank champagne and toasted to free flowing rivers, to the determination of the Clark Fork Coalition (a fantastic local river organization) and other advocates who pressured the state and federal governments to remove this toxic threat and restore this river. We toasted watershed restoration and dam removal.
A few hours later, the bypass channel looked like a proper river. One hundred years of dam-age, reversed, seemingly, in just a few hours. But it will still take a few years to remove all of the sediments and restore the land. It will take years for the Clark Fork River below the dam to flush out the toxins that did get into the river as the dam was bypassed, but the quantity was profoundly lower than what would have entered and destroyed this river if the dam had burst. In the meantime, however, the two rivers are running free, and we’re on our way to cleaner, healthier water.
Road removal may not be as exciting or exhilarating as dam removal, but its benefits are just as important. I’ve sat and watched excavators remove roads before, and it, too, gives me chills. While it’s sad to think that we’ve caused so much damage to the land in the past, it is so inspiring to know that we can fix what we’ve broken. Removing the Milltown Dam is fixing one big mess that we inherited. Removing roads is fixing a lot of small messes that we inherited.
At some point in the future, kids and adults alike will be playing in the park that will be built on the old dam site, while wild fish swim by, unaware that an enormous barrier blocked the passage of their ancestors. Right now, as I write this, bears, mountain lions, fishers, elk, moose and deer, to name a few, are walking along reclaimed roads, reoccupying habitat that their ancestors didn’t have access to. If we play our cards right, we can continue to reclaim roads, remove dams, re-invigorate rural economies, and restore a tapestry of interconnected, healthy, dynamic wildlands and watersheds. The thought of the restored landscape future generations can inherit from us sends chills right through me.
For 100 years, the Milltown Dam blocked the confluence of these two rivers, providing much needed electricity long ago, but also preventing fish from moving upstream and downstream through the dam. For almost that entire period, this timber crib dam also acted as a barrier to hundreds of thousands of cubic yards of heavy metals and otherwise contaminated sediments, preventing them from reaching the rest of the Clark Fork River. The sediments were the result of tailings from the Butte and Anaconda mining districts 114 miles upstream. The entire 114 mile stretch constitutes the largest superfund cleanup site in the United States. And all those toxic sediments were perched behind an earthen dam of questionable stability.
People have been concerned about the dam, and the sediments trapped behind it, for decades. The Environmental Protection Agency had once considered and rejected a plan to remove the dam. Then, during the winter of 1996, a massive ice jam broke loose and traveled down the Blackfoot, taking out bridges, floodplain houses and everything else in its way. It was headed straight for the Milltown Dam. Authorities called out the National Guard and conducted a major drawdown of the reservoir to make room for the ice. While the ice stirred up the sediments, it spared the dam. One result of the drawdown, however, was that the contaminants released in the process caused huge fishkills. But it was only after this terrifying alarm that the federal and state government started to realistically consider removing the dam.
Study after study was completed to develop a plan for removing this dam without releasing all the toxins into the river (or having them pile up at the next dam, 100 miles away, in Thompson Falls, MT). Plans were drawn and redrawn. Controversies arose and were settled. Other controversies arose and weren’t settled — hard feelings remain because the toxic sediments are now being removed and sent by railroad back toward Butte, to join other toxic waste from the old copper mining operation. Nonetheless, for those of us on the bluff that day, there was only a sense of euphoria.
After digging through the crowd, we found a spot with a view. The old electric house from the dam site had been removed months before. They had also dug and lined an enormous bypass channel to allow the Clark Fork River to flow outside of the contaminated sediments and past the dam. That bypass fed into a small, new channel that directly skirted the dam itself. A small temporary dam (basically a big pile of dirt) blocked that new channel. It appeared that one scoop from an excavator would move everything and reunite the Blackfoot and Clark Fork rivers.
All sorts of political bigwigs were down at the dam site making speeches. They talked about how this $100 million project is restoring water quality, fisheries and recreational opportunities. They also talked about restoration as a great tool for creating well-paying jobs. In Montana, as elsewhere, investing in restoration pays off both ecologically and economically.
We waited as the restoration team raised the water in the reservoir to a higher level so it would flow as they needed it to. There was no dynamite, no explosion. But after a while, the excavator moved into place. It started taking bites out of the temporary dam. It took a lot more than one bite for the water to start flowing.
All of a sudden, a trickle of water began flowing down the new channel, around the dam. Then that trickle turned to a torrent, and the torrent to a flood. Initially, after the water started really flowing, things were a little anticlimactic. It wasn’t as extraordinary as I thought it would be. But then, as I looked out over the old reservoir, saw the current forming in the formerly still water, and saw the bypass channel pulling water away from the reservoir, chills went right through me.
We found other friends, people who had driven from around Montana to see this historic event. We drank champagne and toasted to free flowing rivers, to the determination of the Clark Fork Coalition (a fantastic local river organization) and other advocates who pressured the state and federal governments to remove this toxic threat and restore this river. We toasted watershed restoration and dam removal.
A few hours later, the bypass channel looked like a proper river. One hundred years of dam-age, reversed, seemingly, in just a few hours. But it will still take a few years to remove all of the sediments and restore the land. It will take years for the Clark Fork River below the dam to flush out the toxins that did get into the river as the dam was bypassed, but the quantity was profoundly lower than what would have entered and destroyed this river if the dam had burst. In the meantime, however, the two rivers are running free, and we’re on our way to cleaner, healthier water.
Road removal may not be as exciting or exhilarating as dam removal, but its benefits are just as important. I’ve sat and watched excavators remove roads before, and it, too, gives me chills. While it’s sad to think that we’ve caused so much damage to the land in the past, it is so inspiring to know that we can fix what we’ve broken. Removing the Milltown Dam is fixing one big mess that we inherited. Removing roads is fixing a lot of small messes that we inherited.
At some point in the future, kids and adults alike will be playing in the park that will be built on the old dam site, while wild fish swim by, unaware that an enormous barrier blocked the passage of their ancestors. Right now, as I write this, bears, mountain lions, fishers, elk, moose and deer, to name a few, are walking along reclaimed roads, reoccupying habitat that their ancestors didn’t have access to. If we play our cards right, we can continue to reclaim roads, remove dams, re-invigorate rural economies, and restore a tapestry of interconnected, healthy, dynamic wildlands and watersheds. The thought of the restored landscape future generations can inherit from us sends chills right through me.