Trying to find what is best for the Willimantic

The Willimantic (Photo by Justin Maher)






By Gregory Hebert and Rafal Wilson

When it comes to dams and hydropower, proponents and opponents agree that they want what’s best for the environment—the problem lies in their definitions of “what’s best.”

Dan Mullins of the Willimantic Whitewater Partnership and Laura Wildman, a consultant assisting the group, believe that what the environment needs is fewer dams and more free-flowing water. Formed in 2001 when Mullins, the organization’s president, was attending law school, the whitewater partnership is primarily dedicated to restoring the Willimantic River by either modifying or removing the four dams.

“There are a lot of dam removal projects out there,” said Wildman, “but this one has a lot of community support and a lot of different parts to it… It’s just a bigger dream.”

This would help migratory fish return to the region as well as provide a whitewater river for the local residents to enjoy. “A lot of these towns were settled first because of the migratory fish runs,” Mullins said, noting that the Native American names tended to be descriptive of the area. Willimantic, for example, meant “land of the fast-running water” in reference to the river before it was dammed.

More long-term goals include developing a waterfront community park, the creation of outdoor art amenities such as an amphitheater, and expanding the reach of their organization downriver.

The greatest challenges that the organization face are financial, but it also struggles to respect the historical value of the dams. “The whole thing’s a balancing act,” said Wildman. “All of New England has a historical timeline, even before the industrial period… Through all these projects, we’ll look to document that history, or put up signs, to keep it.”

Probably the organization’s biggest accomplishment so far was its ability to attract enough government grants and financial support to buy a key 3.4-acre parcel on Bridge Street bordering the river. One of the four dams was also included in the purchase.
The partnership has also been working with the developers of the East Coast Greenway, a trail that would run from Florida to Maine and pass through Willimantic, and negotiating easements with Northeast Utilities, which owns land along the river. That agreement will provide additional access to the river.

Mullins said that the power plants that use the dams are an acceptable loss when compared to the benefits of getting rid of them. Two of the four that exist are no longer in use at all. Further, the 1.5 megawatts produced over 20 years are evenly balanced against the benefits of a free river and the return of the fish, he said. Its excellent location for whitewater rafting is owed to its bedrock base, as well as the fact that the steepness of the river means it drops 90 feet at a mile and a half throughout its length.

“We want to take the town of Willimantic, which turned its back against [the river] and turn it back toward it,” said Wildman.

Duncan Broatch disagrees. Broatch is president of Summit Hydropower, which owns plants elsewhere in Connecticut, and chairman of the Connecticut Small Power Producers Association, which represents other hydro owners. Broatch believes that keeping the dams and taking advantage of the electricity they produce is the environmentally responsible thing to do.

“We need to get [electricity] where we can with a minimum of environmental impact,” he said. Broacth said that hydropower is the answer. He said that dam-driven hydropower is the No. 1 renewable resource available, helps reduce air pollution, hinders global warming, and significantly lessens U.S. dependence on expensive foreign oil, while remaining an acceptable sacrifice for future generations.

Broatch was the original developer of the two hydro projects but sold them when he was unable to acquire the financing to complete them. Currently they are owned by Enel North America, a subsidiary of Enel SpA, Italy’s largest power producer.

The dams also have licenses from the Federal Energy Regulatory Commission and getting those licenses altered to remove the impoundments and hydro facilities is a formidable task.

Broach said that the dams could be a non-issue, to the point where removing them may even be harmful. “The fish and the environment have gotten used to this,” he said. He said that at the other facilities he owns he have been able to co-exist with kayakers, who have ways to go around the dams while still enjoying the river. He even had an answer to the idea that the dams are an eyesore—he called in an artist to judge the aesthetic value of a dam while applying for a license.

“She said that she valued the interplay of water as it flowed over the dam,” Broach said.

The roar of the Willimantic sounds differently to some

(Photo and audio by Justin Maher and Samantha Henry)

Discussing the fate of the Willimantic River and hydroelectricity in order are Dan Mullins of Willimantic Whitewater Partnership, Laura Wildman, a consultant to the partnership, Eric Barreveld of Enel North America and Duncan Broatch of the Connecticut Small Power Producers Association.

CRRA looks for calm and finds a storm

Gerald Tyminski (Photo by Greg Hebert)

By Samantha Henry, Justin Maher and Christine Sullivan

It was the day after the Connecticut General Assembly had passed a bill banning the construction of the controversial ash landfill in Franklin, Conn. and Paul Nonnemacher was frustrated.

“It was a battle of facts versus emotion,” said Nonnenmacher, the director of public affairs for the Connecticut Resource Recovery Authority that wanted to build the landfill. “All we wanted people to do was to slow down and take a calm, rational look at the facts.”

But local residents had made up their mind. Less than a month earlier they had voted in a non-binding referendum by a 4-to-1 margin to oppose the project. The night before the House had voted 95 to 51 in favor of the bill. A week before the Senate margin had been 27 to 4 in support.

Governor Jodi Rell had not yet indicated whether she would sign the bill but Nonnemacher was gloomy.

Nonnenmacher said that the CRRA had spent years finding a location that met all of the strict specifications set by the Connecticut Department of Environmental Protection. He said the residents of Franklin “took that list of criteria and slapped a new one on it– political stroke.”

Nonnenmacher also insisted that the opponents of the landfill didn’t know what they are missing out on in potential benefits, including a payment to the cash-strapped town of about $1.5 million a year. What this bill has done, he said, “whether you’re for it or against it, is it has turned around and taken one of the very few sites remaining in Connecticut out of the realm of possibility.”

“Land is precious,” says Nonnencmacher, “and we’ve got better things to do with it than putting piles of garbage on it.”

Some of the concerns of the people in Franklin included the threat to the water supply, air quality, and property value. According to Nonnenmacher, the Shetucket River, where the landfill was to be built, was a Class B river that is not used for drinking water.

“Probability is very low that a modern day double-lined landfill would leak,” said Gerald Tyminski, executive director of the Southeast Connecticut Regional Resource Recovery Authority, a sister agency.

Nonnenbacher said that the people in Connecticut make a huge mess with a lot of garbage – about 3 million tons each year. “It’s our responsibility to get rid of our own mess, not trucking it out of state and instead doing it in a way that’s responsible.”

CRRA officials contend that the ash is only the residue of garbage produced in homes and by the time it gets to a landfill it is benign and has been reduced in volume by 90 percent.

To demonstrate, Nonnemacher and Tyminski led a tour of the Preston, Conn. waste incinerator.

“We are operating on what’s referred to as the maximum achievable control technology,” explained Tyminski, whose regional organization is responsible for the Preston plant.

At 2,000 degrees, the Preston facility can make a variety of items turn to ash. Trucks deliver about 1,000 tons a day and the facility burns about 260,000 tons of waste per year. The heat boils water to turn a generator, which on this day was producing 16 to 18 megawatts of electricity.

Tyminski said the Preston plant used to have a nearby ash landfill and he said it has never leaked. Modern landfills are required to have a double liner.

“Essentially what the ash ends up in is a ziplock bag,” Tyminski said. That zip-lock bag, according to Tyminski, is good for about 50 to 100 years.

The Preston ash landfill is surrounded by test-wells that monitor for any groundwater contamination. As long as the landfill has been there, it has not made a measurable impact on water-quality, said Tyminiski.

Tyminski and Nonnenmacher both admit that the ash contains some heavy metals and, according to Tyminski, “it’s not stuff that you would put in your backyard…not stuff that you would spread around.” But when proper precautions are taken, as would be in the skillfully designed, constructed, and monitored landfill, they said it is not hazardous to anything– or anyone– around it.

Nonnenbacher compared the plan to build an ash landfill in Franklin to the burden his local community has in hosting a prison.

“Again, I don’t like it, but we need it,” Nonnenbacher said. “I wouldn’t expect the people of Franklin to like having an ash landfill either.”

A sign of the times

(Photo by Mary Powers)

A quiet street is marked by Dump the Dump signs

Jennifer Davis-Muller and Steve Muller (Photo by Mary Powers)

By Samantha Henry and Justin Maher

Turning down the quiet street in a small neighborhood, the grass is green and people are outside mowing their lawns. The houses are well maintained and a man-made waterfall decorates one lawn.

But one thing seems out of place on the lawns of these houses on Pleasant Hill Road in Franklin, Conn. - bright yellow signs dug into the dirt, bearing the words “DUMP THE DUMP.”

At the end of the road sits a three-story blue house with a small garden, a horse, a donkey, a dog, and a family. And about 1,500 feet away, is a proposed site for an ash landfill.

Steve Muller, who lives in this home, said that he worked hard to knock down the trees and build his home and his family.

“[The Connecticut Resource Recovery Authority] could buy our house, they could tear it down, and they could think that’s OK,” Muller said.

Muller emphasized that the memories and monumental effort of building his family’s house from the foundation up cannot be replaced just by purchasing another one with the funds from a CRRA check, even if that outcome, one of the better ones possible, materializes.

“I could sell the house to another mother and look at her and tell her the water’s fine,” said Jennifer Davis-Muller, who also lives in the house. “But I couldn’t do that.”

On this proposal, opinion in Franklin is negative. In a referendum, the town of about 1,800 voted. With a 4:1 voting ratio, despite the insidiously-awkward phrasing of the ballot question, town residents opposed the ash landfill.

Residents also succeeded in getting a bill introduced in the Connecticut General Assembly seeking to ban the landfill from Franklin.

Major concerns from the opponents of the dump are the traffic – about 60 trucks each day – the threat to the biodiversity in the area, possible leaks from the dump, and the threats to agriculture, businesses and archaeological evidence.

The landfill would be built near the Shetucket River.

“Why go ruin another piece of land when we already have containment,” said Susan Allen of Dump the Dump.

Allen and other members of Dump the Dump have suggested that the landfill be built in nearby Putnam, Conn. According to Allen, a current landfill in Putnam has enough room to operate for years and she believes that it could be expanded.

“Use 10 to 12 years to find something better,” Davis-Muller said. “People are getting creative – we have electric cars.” Davis-Muller suggests that the town lets people work to think about another option and use Putnam for the ash landfill until then.

In those 10 to 12 years bought by the Putnam facility, the people of Franklin hope the state would find less intrusive waste management strategies. A Zero-waste policy is the No.1 option that Davis-Muller and Allen would like to see go through. Another idea was that if the ash was heated further, it could be turned from a powdery consistency to a glass-like material that could be used as a component of asphalt.

Davis-Muller said that when the dump proposal was first unveiled, CRRA had a big meeting with the town. She said CRRA was adamant about having many small tables set up with representatives to field questions, rather than having a press-conference-style meeting, where everyone would hear every question and every answer.

“If this is such a good thing,” said Davis-Muller, “then let’s have transparency.”

Blazing a path to nature

George Arthur (Photo by Rafal Wilson)

By Dora Wilkenfeld, Christine Sullivan, Justin Maher and Samantha Henry

George Arthur bounds up the trail with the enthusiasm of an overgrown Boy Scout, pointing out witch hazel and ladyslippers along the path. After pausing a moment to note the four distinct leaf varieties on a sassafras shrub, he's off again, up the steep, rocky route of the Shenipsit Trail in Vernon, Conn.

For a man past retirement age, such exertion here in the Valley Falls Park on a hot and sunny day might be almost excessive. For Arthur, a trail manager with the Connecticut Forest & Park Association, it's all in a day's work.

The trail association, based in Rockfall, Conn. has been working since 1895 to conserve land with a high priority being its 800-mile Blue-Blazed Hiking Trail System and its related trails scattered throughout Connecticut.

Keeping the trails in tip-top shape can be an easily underestimated task; duties include blazing the way with the distinguishing blue paint, clearing stray branches for safe passage, eliminating litter to beautify the path, and acquiring permission to transverse certain privately owned properties.

And perhaps what is most remarkable about the achievement of this colossal task is that it is nearly all the result of volunteer efforts from dedicated individuals like Arthur.

No challenge is greater for trail managers like Arthur then to build and expand trails, especially in more developed areas such as Vernon.

"There wasn't anything in Vernon 14 years ago," Arthur says of the now-abundant trails stretching through the town and beyond. "Vernon was pretty well developed." The town today is a mix of residential and business areas, close to both the city of Hartford and the endless shopping plazas of Manchester.

Sections of the trail are owned by different people, from the state, to private landowners, and everything in between, such as electric companies. To make the trail continuous, Arthur must negotiate with an indeterminate amount of varied landowning entities. The trail system’s natural beauty is a testament to the dedication of its volunteers.

“I was hoping to get my trail through there,” Arthur said, pointing to a field to the right of the Blue Blaze Trail next to the Walker Reservoir in Vernon. “But it’s not going to happen if Home Depot gets their way.”

The national retailer purchased land near the reservoir two years ago, although the sale has been tied up in a court dispute, said Arthur.

Arthur knows all of the details, he estimates that he volunteers about 300 hours a year to the trail association.

"If I had read the job description, I probably wouldn't have taken the job in the first place," Arthur jokes, but it's clear that he's serious about committing his time to maintaining and beautifying his trails. A colleague, Rob Butterworth, describes Arthur as "the guy the other trail managers talk to when they need to put in something big," typically a bridge or other structure crossing the path.

Uncooperative property owners aren't the only problem Arthur and the other trail manager’s face.

"In a lot of towns, including this one, you have what we call vandals," Arthur says. "You have to keep a close eye to keep things from becoming hazardous."

What is allowed on the trails varies. Butterworth said that almost all trails are for hikers only. Biking often is, but it varies depending on the whims of the landowner of each section of trail.

All terrain vehicles have been a problem in the past, but with a local town ranger chasing them out the numbers have gone down significantly.
“It’s unfortunate that people think they qualify for the X-Games and tear up the property,” Butterworth said.

Water damage is another big problem on any trail. If it doesn’t drain off of the trails properly, it erodes them.

One section of the trail features land that was given to the state by Maxwell Belding, whose family had owned a major textile complex in the town. A bridge crosses a man-made pond and dam over to a path made of stone dust. This is for wheelchair accessibility, so everyone can enjoy the scenery. The bridge featured here is one of many structures along the Blue Blaze Trail.

Many of the paths in the Blue Blaze Trail were begun about 75 years ago as Connecticut residents began to move to the cities and began to long to get back into the country on a weekend afternoon. Today the paths run over mountains and near interstate highways but still provide residents and visitors the opportunity to get outdoors and experience the natural side.

For a man like Arthur, who partook in the Air Scouts as a boy and learned to pilot an airplane before he could drive a car, the appeal of the outdoors is almost second-nature, something he hopes to preserve for future generations of exploration-minded youths and adults alike. And he is extremely proud of his work and accomplishments.
“Our trails are world class trails,” Arthur said. “I keep it clear – brushing, clipping, and sawing.”

Hope rises on the farm

By Gregory Hebert and Rafal Wilson

Art Talmadge and Sherry Simpson are living proof that sustainable agriculture is possible in places as close as your back yard—because that’s where their own farm is. Seven years of hard work has demonstrated that achieving this dream is not easy, however.

Cranberry Hill Farm, which the couple bought in 2002, is located on 30 acres in Ashford, Conn. They do more than just grow and sell food, though—they’re responsible for founding the Ashford Farmer’s Market that runs from June to October and in order to protect their farm and others they are becoming increasingly active in local politics.

For decades small farms in Connecticut and elsewhere have been suffering a slow death. Buoyed by the movement to buy local food, small farms such as Cranberry Hill may be a sign that Connecticut agriculture may still survive.

"You name it, we grow it," said Talmadge, a University of Connecticut graduate who was a natural resource management major. Their soil yields a multitude of vegetables, including peas, onions, spinach, radishes, beets, carrots, and three varieties of lettuce.

Simpson and Talmadge take pride in the fact that they only use heirloom vegetables and heritage animals, although their only livestock breed is chickens. Simpson said that most farmers across the country only use one kind of animal and crop, which, while good for production, has resulted in things like Thanksgiving turkeys incapable of mating on their own, chickens that do not know how to take care of their own eggs, and extreme vulnerability to diseases.

Cranberry Hill Farm, on the other hand, has three varieties of tomatoes, all of which Simpson says are more flavorful than what can be found in local supermarkets. The trade-off is that some crops such as the tomatoes are too fragile to transport across the country like standard supermarket crops. Also, the eggs produced by her chickens are not USDA certified.

"When thinking about planning and sustainability, you have to think about what you produce and what you bring in," said Talmadge. Two years ago Cranberry Hill Farm experienced a drought while last year the growing season was far too wet. Their squash crop was also damaged when they brought in some compost from an outside location. Squash bugs in the compost ruined the crop, forcing them this year to prepare a new bed that is several acres away.

The Cranberry Hill Farm owners also have high hopes for seeing what they can do in animal husbandry. Today they have around a dozen Dominique chickens, but they hope to expand to hogs and possibly even cattle some day.

Talmadge pointed to a 100-square-foot clearing that took him almost three years to open and said he wished he would have had the hogs. "Hogs could have done this for us," said Talmadge.

The reason they have been slow to get new animals is because of their concern for the well being of the livestock. "The humane raising of animals is key to this farm," said Talmadge. According to Simpson, they would like the chickens to be free range but they have to worry about foxes, coyotes, and a hawk, the last of which snatched up a chicken the other day.

Having truly free-range chickens would require they buy ten times the amount they have now in order to achieve price sustainability. As it is, they usually try to time their schedules so they can watch over the chickens. Further, Talmadge said that they don’t keep hogs and sheep due to the fact that the local slaughterhouse practices—which require the animals to be driven several hours away before being killed—does not fit into their definition of humane.

A short hike into the woods reveals a ridge overlooking wetlands that began life as a man-made pond. "We are very aware that people drink this and appreciate its value," said Talmadge. The wetland feeds into what becomes the drinking water source for Willimantic. The wetland is also home to the farm’s namesake Native American cranberries, which are left alone to feed the wildlife living in the area.

On the far side of the farm, through the woods, is a field. Talmadge estimated that he could grow around six to eight acres of hay. But some of the pasture has been plowed up to create two 100 foot by 50 foot plots. While the new beds could produce more needed vegetables, they do not have any dedicated water source. "This is where we'll be doing a lot of rain dances, I think," joked Talmadge.

Talmadge is also setting up a maple syrup tapping system from the many sugar maples in the woods around the farm. To help the maples grow, other trees are being felled to provide a sizable firewood crop that could sustain the couple through the winter. “When I was first out of work,” said Talmadge, who lost his full-time job in February, “I thought to myself, ‘I need to get some firewood on the ground.’”

“You have to look at every potential side of the equation, and there’s far too many sometimes,” said Talmadge.