By Chris Countryman
I sat by the water. Although I wanted to get my camp set up before meeting with the others, this had to come first. I had come to Pennsylvania to participate in an emergency Walk about Water called by the Gaia Grrrls on August 6, in response to a pipeline drilling accident about 3 miles upstream from Salt Springs State Park.
Photo by Eric Francis.
I looked, I sat, and I listened. As I became aware of the nuances of the stream, I noticed the sound of the water as it passed over a cluster of rocks nearby. I observed that further up another arrangement of stones gave voice to the water in a different way. By listening carefully I could discern each separate song and also how lovely they sounded together. I absorbed the mystery and beauty of this as I gazed upstream at the many pools and rapids. It occurred to me that it is kind of like how people respond to the conditions of life: each speaking, believing and expressing the reality they experience in their own way. Then the message I was seeking from the water was very clear. We people may speak with many voices, but we are all the same stream.
I am recently given to carrying around jars of water. I have one that I call the Tears of Salt Spring. It comes from a natural salt spring which has been a precious resource for millennia. First Peoples would access it as part of their annual routines. It was made into a salt factory at one time, and park lovers have been in the habit of tasting water from the spring to marvel at the inland salt water for decades. Because of the pervasive toxicity of tiny amounts of endocrine disruptors, which may now be present due to drilling for natural gas in the vicinity, it is recommended that people do not sample the water anymore. I’m not declaring that the water has been made poisonous. You just don’t know if it’s safe, but fear is poison. Now there are tears outside the jar.
I am reminded of a boy, maybe 11 years old. We walked by his house in Hallstead, Pennsylvania. We were walking along a beautiful, very kid-friendly stream across the road from a modest neighborhood. The natural gas issue had been very divisive for communities in that part of PA and after explaining that his parents would never let him attend a water celebration, he threw himself full length onto the ground. It was the most eloquent expression of childhood despair. I had to wonder how that stream will look in a couple years, because once they get the gas pipelines built to Susquehanna, the drilling will start there in earnest.
Sadly, I no longer have to wonder what a stream looks like after the pipeline goes in. On August 1, 2011, beautiful Laurel Lake Creek suffered what pipeline drilling companies call an inadvertent return, which means thousands of gallons of their drilling mud migrated through a natural underground fissure and escaped into the environment — in this case up through the stream bed. This creek is a cold water fishery which empties into an exceptional value watershed, so they were being extra careful. The site of the accident is just upstream from Salt Springs State Park, which is a popular swimming spot. They did remediation to protect the cleanliness of the water, but ¼ mile of the stream now looks like a sewer project. It is hundreds of sandbags, straw bales and culvert pipe. The DEP has studied the accident, and claims no harm has been done. A YouTube playlist that documents the situation as it developed is here. Much is revealed in this series of raw video.
The next challenge to this beautiful natural area is the permit for an impoundment the gas company is seeking across the road from the park. That is what they call the giant-size open pits in which they store their millions of gallons of poisonous fracking fluids. Millions of gallons is not an exaggeration, and that water is drawn from local streams, lakes and aquifers before being mixed with thousands of gallons of toxic proprietary chemicals and forced underground. I know this sounds like a ridiculous claim, a terrible nightmare, and too much to deal with.
Who does beauty belong to? What is it worth? These are unspoken questions I see on faces all over Pennsylvania. One of the scary things about how the gas industry operates is that although each well and every mile of pipeline is an undertaking on a superhuman scale, nobody is apparently in charge. Separate tasks are subcontracted to companies who don’t know what the other contractors are doing. The one coordinating the contract work is not seemingly connected at all to the actual work, or is aware of its consequences to the drill site or its inhabitants. Nobody can be held responsible. That’s the way it is designed. Does anyone else become uneasy when an industry designed to avoid accountability is touted as an economic panacea?
How does fear impact public health? What is the outcome of widespread grieving for the loss of beautiful natural landscapes and eternal vistas? What does it cost in measurable health terms to accommodate the loss of quality of life, peace and quiet, clean air, potable water, access to the outdoors? In the meeting with UC Health Department, made possible by the June 20 Walk about Water in Kingston, NY, we learned that the health department is regulatory in nature. It doesn’t make the rules but works hard to enforce them for the public benefit. The people who populate those agencies speak their minds at risk of unemployment. However, shale gas mining remains a serious public health issue.
On Oct 6-7, 2011 an association of public health officials held their semi-annual Leadership Summit. This body is a policy incubator. We learned of this by perusing the NYSACHO website. We wanted to appeal to all the county public health executives at once and encourage them to speak up about the health risks associated with shale gas mining. I wrote a nice letter offering a short presentation and asked for an invitation. I also called and left a couple of pleasant messages, with no response. We determined to approach them anyway, and camped out on state land about 4 miles from the conference site. We were there before the opening to distribute some flyers. We were able to connect with a couple of attendees but when we asked the registrar for permission to display our banner they said no. We were permitted to place our flyers on the registration desk where attendees would see them and had a conversation with several people, many of whom thought we were there to protest fracking, since those who understand what it means almost always are against it.
The process of forcing the chemicals down the drill shaft is just one portion of the destructive activity associated with shale gas mining. We had planned to speak about the cumulative health effects of the entire industry. We would rather talk about the necessity of natural places and clean water, the moral basis of making quality of life for future generations a priority. Since the Rensselaerville Institute is a non-profit assisting people with water quality issues as part of their mission, we just had to be polite!
Many are up in arms about fracking. The State Assembly held a hearing Oct. 6 inviting public comment about it. Since we were banned from the NYSACHO conference site, we headed into town to observe the proceedings. The Hamilton Hearing Room in the Legislative building was not easy to find. The doors to the building say NO ENTRANCE and have no handles. We inquired of a passerby who directed us down the block and to the other side of the street, through unmarked doors to the security desk and metal detectors. We asked directions again and were sent “down the escalators and make a right, keep on going.” As we got deeper and deeper into the building, the ceilings got higher, the lighting was dim, there was nobody around, and no signs saying “public comment hearing this way.” I felt I was traversing a crypt on the way to see the Pharaoh. I felt the size of an ant, and my concerns insignificant. No wonder politicians in Albany get a big head. We finally found the hearing room, and there were many dear people, testifying to the assembly with facts and research references, passion and excellence one at a time, all day long. The quality and dedication of the people working on this issue from every angle is admirable.
When a fellow from Food and Water Watch suggested we go on a march about the capitol, I was enthusiastic, but surprised to learn we would stay inside the building. Off we went, yelling, “No fracking way!” along with the other thirty or so people. We marched up and down stairs, then over to the Assembly to hear some speeches and deliver a letter. There we learned of the nearly 300 health professionals who signed a letter to Governor Cuomo asking him to slow down and study public health effects before issuing permits for horizontal shale gas drilling and hydrofracking. From there it was up the gothic staircase to Governor Cuomo’s office where there was much loud chanting of “No fracking way.”
The energy of stuck opposition and no communication was so evident to me that I couldn’t carry on. I put my arms around the other women from Walk about Water and we began to chant along instead with, “Our Water! Our Air! Our Kids! Our Planet!” The leaders of our little march were astounded by our insurrection, but recovered quickly with, “Governor Cuomo! Protect our water! Ban fracking now.” We got right behind that. I was very grateful, I just couldn’t yell “no” anymore. Nor will I remain quiet.
The Governor sent out his emissary to receive the next letter, and then we chanted and marched on our way to the exit. Many people returned down the long jaunt to the hearing room, where the testimony was expected to continue into the night. But we had run out of time on the parking meters and wanted to get back to camp before dark.
On Friday, when the Public Health officials had concluded their conference, we were waiting for them with our banner and megaphone, right across the street from the exit. We received several friendly waves and a couple of thumbs up, and were “invisible” to only a couple. Don’t believe it when someone tells you there is nothing you can do.
When we were planning the first Walk about Water, our intention was to carry a symbolic amount of clean water from New York reservoirs to the people in Dimock, Pennsylvania, whose water has been contaminated by shale gas mining. We wanted to bring attention to the essential and unifying nature of water and to encourage people to think about, and get together around what they have in common. At that time the gas drilling issue was so divisive, and the community there so shattered, that it was decided that we would go instead to Salt Springs State Park, north of Montrose. There we successfully arrived after carrying our precious Amphora of water through April’s cold and rain over 90 miles on foot. The celebration was all we could have dreamed and the spirits of the land and the water and the fire in the hearts of the people was stirred.
How do I know? In late August, the people of Montrose called another Walk about Water. It had to be postponed due to floods and water walked the roads for days. In late September they gathered by the dozens to carry water on foot from Montrose to Dimock. I walked along with them. Most people driving by were supportive, even drill industry truckers were courteous of the pedestrians with bottles and signs and a giant rickshaw. We all relaxed afterward as welcome guests on the front lawn of the local church.
Recently Cabot Oil and Gas has decided to discontinue water deliveries to the people of Carter Road in Dimock because the regulations only cover methane levels, and because methane is common in local water supplies, the company now claims the water is acceptable for household use. They should be held accountable for poisoning people, but this story is far from over.
The people of Dimock are walking again, this time as an occupation of Zombies. I’m dying to see what they think of next. Walk about Water is plotting how to occupy Pharaoh’s Crypt in Albany for the winter, and to go visit the Department of Health every day. That way we can keep steady pressure on them and Governor Cuomo to remember their obligation to the public health and future generations. Got shoes?
www.walkaboutwater.blogspot.com
Find us on Facebook – search “Walk about Water”
1. We began as six women from NY and PA, grateful to live in a place of abundant clean water.
2. We represent mothers, grandmothers, sisters, daughters and granddaughters.
3. We are moved to action by the threat of contaminated water from the extraction of fossil fuels.
4. Our concern is for the waters of lakes and rivers, streams, aquifers and wells and over the harm that will come to our families and future generations should these bodies of water become contaminated. The urgency of these concerns prevents us from simply living our lives peacefully and gratefully.
5. We demand that public health and quality of life for future generations take priority in decisions that affect everyone. We insist upon a ban of any technology which is harmful to life and threatens the ability of future generations to inherit a healthy and wholesome environment in which to thrive.
6. When the intersections of politics, economics and science result in a situation that bears no resemblance to common sense, art is the only sane response.
7. To illustrate our concerns we carried the most precious substance on the planet – water – 90 miles on foot.
8. We did this to bring attention to how precious and vulnerable this essential resource truly is.
9. The need for clean water is something everyone has in common.
10. We seek to make this important point by visibly honoring what we love.
11. We bring good wishes to all water drinkers and bath takers.
12. Water is eternal. Gas is so temporary it is gone the instant it is useful.
13. We women refuse to sit quietly while clean water needed by everyone is foolishly squandered in the pursuit of temporary benefits for a few.
14. Water is life and like it or not, we are all wet together.
