The Chafe
of the West

By Josh Mahan

But, you know how we do it out here in the Rockies. When the sun shines and the snow melts -- life goes on hold. There’s no way around it. We don’t apologize. We’re not sorry. We don’t care about much else when the snows shift their shape and race to the ocean.

We go high-water boating in the wilderness of Idaho. Surf’s up, bro. You either show up or grow a year older, fatter, and slower.

We could bore you with tales of epic swims, surfs, and steep-creek descents, but let’s get back to why we’re really here: to monitor the lawless and sniff out the frauds. That’s right, here at Lowbagger we keep an eye on your public agencies and keep an eye on the latest vile chafe of the American landscape, and abroad. We hope you’ve been enjoying the fine work of our talented and courageous contributors from all of the cracks, corners, and hollows of life.

We’ve got some bad news, though. Brown trout are back in the Yellowstone River, and we’re not talking about the robust fishery that waterway supports. Rather, Gardiner’s sewage system failed, again, discharging over 5,000 gallons of raw, unscreened crap into the Yellowstone, much of it belonging to Yellowstone National Park tourists who stay uphill of Gardiner in the village of Mammoth Hot Springs.

And you know how tourists eat. It’s not just clean, fiber-fed Montana excrement, making the situation all the more worse.

Lowbagger broke the tragic story of the Yellowstone River’s mis-sewage-treatment last September after the Montana Department of Environmental Quality, Park County Commissioners and Sanitarium, Gardiner Sewage District, and Yellowstone National Park ignored the illegal discharges for decades.

The article, which ran in the Livingston Enterprise, led to town meetings and Gardiner’s sewage district was finally fined by the state DEQ for their gross negligence and pollution-spewing ways.

Most folks in the small unincorporated town tucked at the end of the Paradise Valley and the headwaters of the Yellowstone River don’t like to talk about the discharges that have, at times, run for days.

A lot of people fear reprisal from the Park in this Park-town. Except for Ray Corbin and Stephanie Cochrane, who live right next to the pipe. They get steamed up about it because their dogs track sewage across their living room floor. They complain time and again to the county, but nothing happens. Go figure. Government agencies look out for you, right? Wrong.

Mountain Gazette re-ran some of Lowbagger’s coverage of the spills on the Yellowstone this month during a look at eight of the gnarliest sewage discharges in the west. Gardiner was one of those Top Eight. When will this problem get fixed?

What really stinks about this whole thing is that the public is never notified when these nasty discharges occur directly into popular fishing, rafting, and swimming waters.

Montana is not alone, this sort of thing happens all over the country. Dennis Kucinich recently signed onto the Raw Sewage Overflow Community Right To Know Act in the U.S. House of Representatives.

American Rivers web editor Lindsay Martin writes the following about America’s sewage problems:

“When it comes to sewage pollution, what you don’t know can hurt you. Every year, more than 850-billion gallons of raw or partially-treated sewage is dumped into the waters where we fish, swim and play. As a result, millions of people become ill each year from unnecessary contact with disease causing pathogens found in sewage.

Astonishingly, there is no nationwide requirement for sewage treatment plants to notify the public when these sewage spills and overflows occur, placing people and their families at risk. Knowledge is a powerful first line of defense, and we all deserve to know when our favorite streams and rivers are unfit for playing and paddling.”

Urge your representative to support this important legislation, for the health of both humans and rivers.

Speaking of rivers, Lowbagger is taking this show on the water. Beginning on August 25 we will be dispatching from some of the land’s most remote, but troubled bars -- sand bars that is.

Our 1,000-mile documentary will descend the Green and Colorado rivers, floating from Wyoming to the Arizona-Nevada border.

We’ll be uploading via satellite with a crack team of conservationists, web designers, and journalists. You’ll be reading reports from the ground on the beauty that remains and the desecration that abounds in these diverse and heavily-used corridors.

The expedition will be fueled solely by human power. We’ll encounter three reservoirs: Flaming Gorge, Powell reservoir, and Mead reservoir where every stroke will be a stroke in protest of the deadened river.

Along the way we’ll interview water users of all types. From ranchers to rafters. House-boaters to fly fishermen. Navajo natives to L.A. tourists. What does the river mean to you? We hope to find a place where all of the different people in the world can agree on how to treat the river.

A lot of people think this journey is fun and games. I’m here to tell you, it’s going to be work, work, work. No piece of sandstone will go unturned in our quest to bring you a first-hand view of the issues, personalities, and wildernesses that haunt these precious river systems, and the vast tracts of wild land that surround and support them.

We’re going to save some canyon country, too.

If you can help in any way on this journey, don’t hesitate to contact us. We want to hear from you, and offer you an opportunity to make a tax-deductible contribution to the Lowbagger Foundation and receive off-the-charts visibility on our sister site, Downtheriver.org.

‘Til next time, lowbaggers. Keep your gear dry and your boots dirty.

Josh Mahan says if you aren't trying to protect or enjoy the out of doors, you've missed the boat.