So the James River is actually not as dirty as I was expecting it to be. On our trip to DC to check out the Potomac, I saw a ginormous amount of random pieces of trash lining its banks. On the James, I did not see this. Perhaps that’s why the James has a C+ rating while the Potomac has a lowly D.
Regardless, I was pleasantly surprised. Not only did it make my job as trash collector easier, but it also suggested that the “respect our river” initiative is actually resonating with at least more than a few people. Belle Isle is a popular spot for recreation and people seem to be realizing that if they throw away their trash in the bin 15 yards away from where they’re sitting, then the park becomes more pleasant for all of the adventurous outdoorsy folk that are currently there and plan to return in the future.
It is encouraging to see this kind of local clean up effort because it demonstrates that the Richmond citizens are willing to take a step in the right direction towards a cleaner river.
Removing debris and smelly diapers filled my heart with good this past Saturday. It kind of parallels Wilson’s and Kelling’s broken glass theory that maintaining environments in a clean and orderly way will help prevent further vandalism and crime. Disposing of the meager 50 pounds of trash that we collected might seem like a small feat, but if it prevents someone else from soiling a pristine rock or allows a family to better enjoy the river, then my job is done. So I guess in my own way, I’m a vigilante crime fighter, bettering the greater Richmond community, one beer bottle at a time.
That said, it is still early spring. I may be eating my words come summer when the water warms up and tourists come to the river in droves. Let’s hope they decide to play nice and help keep the river clean as well.
There are still many problems to be surmounted, however. The storm the previous day likely overloaded the sewer drainage systems and mixed all that literal crap in with the water that would find its way into the James. As a result, whenever the wind blew, the entire river smelled only slightly better than the poop on Carolyn’s gloved hand. This not so small artifact of our past river management oversight serves as a reminder to everyone in the park that there is still much work to be done.
After picking up a combined total of over 1,000 cigarette butts, C.J., Hans, Carolyn, and I headed back to the car where Purell was passed around and we headed out to lunch to celebrate a cleaner river and cleaner hands.