Op-Ed
A bridge too far?
By Selectman Torbert Macdonald Jr.
Editors Note: The views expressed in this column are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the opinion of The Independent.The image of the Passaconaway Bridge over the Cape Neddick River, sagging and crippled, broken by the enormous force of our May deluge, has become iconic - seen nationwide as a symbol of nature's power unleashed. Most of the subsequent media coverage has focused on the bridge's replacement - the inevitable conflicts and compromises necessary where monetary resources and their allocation seem to be the only values at stake.
But what of the fate of the river itself? Can it be that rapid restoration of the bridge in the same basic footprint will effectively seal the fate of the Cape Neddick River as a former coastal river, doomed to a future of increasing siltation and diminished environmental resource values - bridge building as bridge burning on a richer natural past?
The Once and Future River
The basic shape and function of the river was formed by the pathways of melt water exiting the last of the glacier that once sat a mile deep on the granite pluton of Mount Agamenticus. The water carved its way through the softer tissues of the post-glacial terrain, carrying the enormous volume of sand and stone that now covers the bottom of Wells Bay out to the edge of the continental shelf.
The river still drains most of the bony rolling terrain from the east and southeasterly slopes of Mt. A and the high coastal ridges between the Whippoorwill subdivision and the watershed break between Mountain Road and the Logging Road to the north. Largely undeveloped, this watershed drainage area has been altered permanently by two man-made projects.
The damming of the river in the late 19th century to feed the appetite for drinking water of the newly created York Beach tourist economy created Chase's Pond as we know it and forever altered the seasonal pulse of water entering the Gulf of Maine. Much earlier, a mill dam and pond whose remnants can be seen at the Route One bridge over the river changed the nature of the lower river, preventing sea run fish from accessing the river for spawning. This dam and pond complex were, however, blown out in a flood not unlike our recent event.
The second major alteration in the natural flow of the river occurred in the 1950s when the state and the town jointly dug a drainage canal parallel to Route One to drain the huge maple swamps below the Whippoorwill Ridges directly into the river upstream of Route One. Previously, these vast wetlands were drained by a brook that today still exits between York Fitness and Hawk Motors across from the entrance to the Wild Kingdom on Route One. Before the canal, the wetland complex in a heavy snow and spring rain year (like '05) really flooded out York Beach! Now entering the river, this torrent of fresh water augments the natural flow of the river and this May was the main source of the flood surge, which at low tide (with no ocean water resistance) undermined the footings of the pillars holding up the bridge to catastrophic results.
To observe that, absent the manmade alterations (including the large stone causeway base of the current structure), the river would have easily handled the rain event may be trite but true - the river was created by hydrological processes far greater in magnitude. What natural riches the river once engendered before the European invasion and settlement cannot be known but certainly included a prolific fishery - both finfish like salmon, smelt and the like and shellfish including now-defunct oyster beds.
What can be known is the historical use of the free flowing coastal river and high tide harbor as a depot/trans shipment port for coastal commerce. Huge volumes of firewood were hand cut in the Agamenticus and hauled to Cape Neddick to feed the fireplaces of Boston. Wool from the Mt. A. fields that replaced the forest also exited through this shallow high-tide port. Thus the river served as an economic highway and lifeblood for the incredibly hard-working, valiant and vanished mountain community.
The first bridge over the river was built in the late 19th century to accommodate the tourist industry, giving a direct link from York Beach to the grand hotels above Passaconaway Beach on the heights above today's beach. This was a wood piling structure of some considerable length with a hand-operated draw section to accept larger vessels upstream, and kept a relatively free flow of ocean water into the river's upper basin.
In 1924, this wood piling structure was transformed into the stone causeway and concrete monolith of pre-2006 flood times that finalized the constriction/alteration of this coastal river - apparently permanently.
The Bridge Over the River (which) Cries
Even as a "perfect storm" was required to take out the 1924 bridge, a perfect storm of bureaucratic regulations, scarcity of public money at all levels and pressure to accommodate the tourist industry (see a pattern here yet?) leaves the town with little choice but to accept the compromises with the State Department of Transportation that Town Manager Rob Yandow and beleaguered Public Works Director Bill Bray have worked assiduously to broker to the town's best possible interests. These gentlemen are blameless here and deserve credit for the concessions made by the state.
The tragedy here - and one repeated endlessly across our once great land - is the failure of our political culture to recognize the importance, indeed, necessity of investing in our common infrastructure for the sake of future generations. It seems to me that we are all driving Hummers plastered with bumper stickers that read "we're spending our progeny's inheritance."
This new bridge is supposed to last 150 years, but the potential impacts of opening the causeway/bridge to a free ocean flow are being dismissed as deleterious to situations created by inadvertence, ignorance and inattention. Built in the era before any environmental law, the causeway/bridge caused some siltation of the upriver basin, which the state credits for the building of the coastal marsh on the west side of Shore Road. These marshes and mudflats are probably not anthropogenically created, and photographic evidence taken from in front of the former Passaconaway Hotel apparently shows the existing marsh as present during the open flow era. This evidence disputes the state's assumptions about the effects of the open causeway's free flow of ocean water.
Here's the truth:
- Maine DOT has custody over 2700+ bridges, two-thirds of which need help desperately. A DOT engineer told me recently that they could spend $100 million in a heartbeat. Virtually none of that money is currently budgeted.
- If the bridge is not built in the same artificial 1924 footprint, a process requiring 72 different permits will lurch into effect, horrifying everyone.
- The hydrological consequences of causeway removal are being pre-judged as detrimental to the so-called "man-created" natural resource values.
- The votes and interests of future generations are mute.
- We the citizenry are so disorganized and self-absorbed that when the question is asked, "Your money or your (river's) life," we answer, "Take my (river's) life, I need my money for my old age."
- Holistic, future-oriented thinking is out - the future has already been fully discounted - present values and short-term returns prevail, just like corporations everywhere that manage for the next quarterly dividend, depleting future assets as required. Tell that to our unfortunate grandchildren when they ask us why we allowed such a mess to be dumped on them.
