CHATTAHOOCHEE --
Every once in a while, fisherman Ted Newell decides to give the
Apalachicola River one more chance.
When he catches a good-eating crappie or bream, Newell cuts it dumps out the guts and takes a close look inside. If he find
polyps, stained flesh or an odd golden goop, he is once again
convinced the Apalachicola is still a sick river.
"I like to catch them and I'd love to eat them, but I don't," the
retired preacher said after a recent fishing trip. "It's just too
risky."
The "Apalach," as locals call it, is one of the most important
rivers in North Florida, serving as a critical fresh water source
for a growing human population, as a breeding ground for a diverse
fish and wildlife population and as a key component of the water
system that produces the world-famous Apalachicola oysters.
Yet the river, located about 50 miles west of Tallahassee, has
been under attack by man for more than 45 years. The damage caused
by decades of dredging, industrial use and unplanned growth led a
national environmental group last week to label the Apalachicola one
of the 11 most endangered rivers in the nation.
The Apalachicola cuts a windy, 106-mile path through the
Panhandle. The river originates at the Woodruff Dam in Chattahoochee
and flows south to its mouth in a fertile delta at the city of
Apalachicola.
The "most endangered" label is purely symbolic and carries no
money for clean-up or restoration. But it has mobilized a range of
groups that work to protect the river and brought attention to the
plight of the Apalachicola.
Officials from a new coalition formed to protect and restore the
river held a news conference last week to express their outrage over
its mistreatment. "We've got to stop tearing that river up," said
Andy Smith, president of the Apalachicola Bay and Riverkeepers
group. "We've got to stop killing it before we can start restoring
it."
The source of the problems faced by the river are easy to
pinpoint.
Increased run-off from development has flooded the river with
pollutants like sewage, fertilizers and vehicle emissions. An
ongoing war between Florida, Georgia and Alabama over the fresh
water in the Apalachicola, Flint and Chattahoochee rivers could
reduce already dangerously low water levels.
But the American Rivers group that labeled the river endangered
last week said the most damage results from dredging by the Army
Corps of Engineers. The dredging costs an estimated $20million
annually and keeps a channelfor fewer than 100 barges a year
that carry chemicals and other products into Georgia. Last year only
30 barges made the trip, yet the dredging continued.
U.S. Sen. Bob Graham, D-Fla., is fighting the dredging that he
says is "beyond wasteful, it's foolish." Graham said his legislation
to deauthorize the dredging is supported in Congress but has not
passed because the government is simply slow to change.
The dredging that began in the 1950s causes several major
problems for the river. The worst damage occurs when sand dug out of
the river bottom is piled along the shoreline. Those 160 sand piles
block water flow to sloughs and swamps that abut the river, places
where fish and wildlife retreat to find cool, slow-moving water
needed for breeding.
Many of those swamps have dried up, and the birds, fish, animals
and trees that once thrived there have declined in number or died
off. The death of the swamps means an uncertain future for the famed
tupelo trees which provide nectar for bees that produce the
world-renowned tupelo honey.
"Our family has been making tupelo honey there since 1898, and
we'll lose that business if we lose the river," said L.L. Lanier,
79, whose Wewahitchka homestead was featured in the movie Yulee's
Gold. "Do what you can to save that river, because it's worth
every dollar and every bit of energy it takes."
The small commercial fishing industry on the river also has
suffered. Shelley Scroggins, whose family catches catfish, said two
decades ago he could bring home 300 pounds of catfish a day. Now, he
said, he's lucky to pull out 30 pounds a week even with more
advanced equipment.
"You can't exist," Scroggins said, "because there's not enough
fish and game anymore to make a profitable living."
While anglers and honey makers worry over their long term future
on the river, people in the the oyster and seafood industries have
immediate concerns over the health of the Apalachicola. Last fall,
1,400 oyster-harvesting families that operate on a small profit
margin were put out of work for four months due to red tide. Low
water levels in the Apalachicola increased the severity of damage
from a natural strain of red tide.
Red tide usually hangs off the coast, but the shallowness of the
river helped suck the natural toxins into the delta area where
oysters are raked up.
Beyond red tide, though, the health of the river affects people
who rely on populations of fish and seafood that must regenerate
themselves. Poor water quality has reduced the number of fish,
oysters and shrimp in the Apalachicola Bay, hurting both commercial
fishing and tourism, said Franklin County Commissioner Jimmy
Mosconis.
"A lot of oyster and seafood producers had a very bad
Thanksgiving and Christmas, and this county is still feeling these
affects every day," said Mosconis, who runs a fishing lodge and
marina near the city of Apalachicola.
Supporters of restoring the Apalachicola River don't have a plan
or a cost estimate for the project yet. If they win the battle
against dredging, organizers said the new coalition will gather to
discuss exactly what needs to be done to save the river.
At stake, they say, is more than money, more than the life of
fish and wildlife.
"They're like snowflakes, these rivers, each with their own
personality," said Marilyn Blackwell, a Wewahitchka resident who has
fought dredging for 20 years. "It's just infinity, something that
will always be there, and that'd be a shame to lose."
Staff writer Thomas Pfankuch can be reached at (850)
224-7515, extension 13 or via e-mail at tpfankuch.
