Officials say a disease might be killing an invasive species of fish in Lake Ontario and the St. Lawrence River. The GLRC’s David Sommerstein reports:
Transcript
Officials say a disease might be killing an invasive species of fish in Lake
Ontario and the St. Lawrence River. The GLRC’s David Sommerstein
reports.
Where the lake and the river meet, people have been finding dead round
gobies.
“Dozens in some cases, hundreds of dead gobies that have been washing up on shores.”
Steve Litwiler is with New York’s Department of Environmental
Conservation. He says a change in water temperature or a poison could
cause the die-off, but initial sampling suggests some kind of disease.
“Is it a disease that could potentially affect other fish? Fortunately right
now the only fish that are dying appear to be the round gobies.”
If only the round gobies die, this could be a good news story. Round gobies
hitched a ride from Europe in the ballast of foreign freighters. They’ve
displaced native species across the Great Lakes by breeding faster and eating
other fishes’ eggs and young.
Wooly mammoths stopped roaming the Great Lakes region 10,000 years ago. But a Canadian scientist has made a breakthrough in reviving their prehistoric genetic code. The Great Lakes Radio Consortium’s David Sommerstein reports:
Transcript
Wooly mammoths stopped roaming the Great Lakes region 10,000 years
ago, but a Canadian scientist has made a breakthrough in reviving their
prehistoric genetic code. The Great Lakes Radio Consortium’s David
Sommerstein reports:
Scientists have studied ancient DNA in the past, but only in fragments.
Geneticist Hendrik Poinar got well-preserved DNA from a wooly
mammoth found in the Siberian permafrost. Poinar is an assistant
professor at McMaster University in Hamilton, Ontario. He and
colleagues at Penn State University have found a way to map the entire
mammoth genome.
“So, it’s really having a Kodak moment on the genes of the past, really,
as they were evolving, and being able to answer fascinating questions
about what makes a mammoth a mammoth, or what makes a Neanderthal a
Neanderthal, and how they differ from a human.”
So far, they’ve completed just one percent of the genome.
Poinar says the discovery begs tough ethical questions, like bringing
extinct animals back to life.
“Creating Pleistocene Park, basically.”
Poinar published the discovery in a recent issue of the Journal Science.
Researchers measuring an American Eel. (Courtesy of United States Department of Agriculture)
Pollution and invasive species are killing off or crowding out native plants and animals,
but for some species, it’s not just one problem, but many problems that are hurting them.
Few species illustrate the dangers of the multiple threats to the Great Lakes as the American
eel. Only fifty years ago, the snake-like fish accounted for half of the biomass in Lake
Ontario. Today, it has all but disappeared. David Sommerstein has that story:
Transcript
In our next report in the series Ten Threats to the Great Lakes we hear about native
species that are in trouble. Our guide in the series is Lester Graham. He says some fish
and organisms are disappearing.
Pollution and invasive species are killing off or crowding out native plants and animals,
but for some species, it’s not just one problem, but many problems that are hurting them.
Few species illustrate the dangers of the multiple threats to the Great Lakes as the American
eel. Only fifty years ago, the snake-like fish accounted for half of the biomass in Lake
Ontario. Today, it has all but disappeared. David Sommerstein has that story:
Before you say, who cares about a slimy critter like an eel, eels are amazing. They spawn
in the Sargasso Sea, the Bermuda Triangle, but no one’s ever caught them in the act.
After they’re born, they’re like tiny glassy leaves. They float thousands of miles north
and west on ocean currents. Then, they wiggle up the St. Lawrence River and into the
Great Lakes. They live up to 20 years in fresh water before they start the long journey to
the Sargasso to spawn.
The problem is their offspring are not coming back. People are worried about the eel, and
those who relied on it for a living feel like they’re disappearing too.
(Sound of waves)
Just ask fisherman John Rorabeck. He grew up here by the lighthouse on Point Traverse,
a peninsula that juts out into northeastern Lake Ontario.
Rorabeck’s been fishing these waters for more than 30 years. Eels were his prime catch.
He points past the lighthouse.
“I remember when I started fishing there were nights on that south shore, the most fish
that would be eels at certain times and there was literally tons of them on that south
shore. Now, you could go back there and you’ll find nothing.”
Rorabeck stopped fishing eels several years ago because it just wasn’t worth it. Now he
dedicates his fishing time to science. He catches specimens for leading eel expert John
Casselman, who examines them in his lab.
“It is truly a crisis. A crisis of concern.”
Casselman’s a scientist at Queens University in Kingston, Ontario. In 1980, at a point on
the St. Lawrence River in mid-summer, he counted more than 25,000 eels a day. Now
there are as few as 20 a day.
Casselman ticks off a list of causes. It sounds like a who’s who of environmental threats
to the Great Lakes – over fishing, dammed up rivers, erosion, pollution, invasive species,
climate change. If scientists could sift out how all the factors relate, they could take a big
step in better understanding the Great Lakes delicate ecosystem.
The problem is, Casselman says, there’s no time to wait. In 2003, eel experts from 18
countries made an unusual statement. In what they called the Quebec Declaration of
Concern, they urged more action, not more science.
“I’m a research scientist, and of course I love data. At this point, you don’t want me.
Don’t ask me to explain what’s going on here because by the time I get it figured out, it
may be too late.”
People are starting to do something about it, Casselman says. Several U.S. agencies are
considering giving the eel “rare and endangered” status. More money is going toward
research for fish ladders over dams.
Marc Gaden is spokesman for the Great Lakes Fishery Commission.
“We’re committing ourselves, our resources to working to make the recovery of the
species a reality.”
The province of Ontario has closed the eel fishery in its waters for the foreseeable future.
(Sound up at beach)
Fisherman John Rorabeck supports that plan. He stares out across the waters he’s
trawled for decades. He says he’s behind anything to bring the eel back for future
generations.
“And hopefully we can, but I don’t expect to see it in my time. When I…[crying]…when I
think of all the times that we’ve had out in the lake and my forefathers and see what’s
happening here, it breaks you down.”
Rorabeck says when he thinks of the eel nearing extinction, he feels like he and his way
of life are becoming extinct too.
A freighter leaving the Duluth harbor in Minnesota. (Photo courtesy of EPA)
A ship in the Duluth–Superior harbor in Duluth, Minnesota. The St. Lawrence Seaway made it possible for the Duluth–Superior harbor to exist. (Photo courtesy of EPA)
One of the Ten Threats to the Great Lakes identified by many of the experts we surveyed
is dredging channels deeper and wider for larger ocean-going ships. In the 1950s, engineers
carved a shipping channel from the Atlantic Ocean to the Great Lakes via the St. Lawrence
River. The St. Lawrence Seaway was to make ports in cities such as Chicago and Duluth main
players in global commerce. Today, the Seaway operates at less than half its capacity.
That’s because only five percent of the world’s cargo fleet can fit through its locks and
channels. For decades, the shipping industry has wanted to make them bigger. David
Sommerstein reports:
Transcript
We’re continuing our series Ten Threats to the Great Lakes with a look at the idea of
letting bigger ships into the lakes. Lester Graham is our guide through the series.
One of the Ten Threats to the Great Lakes identified by many of the experts we surveyed
is dredging channels deeper and wider for larger ocean-going ships. In the 1950s, engineers
carved a shipping channel from the Atlantic Ocean to the Great Lakes via the St. Lawrence
River. The St. Lawrence Seaway was to make ports in cities such as Chicago and Duluth main
players in global commerce. Today, the Seaway operates at less than half its capacity.
That’s because only five percent of the world’s cargo fleet can fit through its locks and
channels. For decades, the shipping industry has wanted to make them bigger. David
Sommerstein reports:
(Sound of rumbling noise of front-loaders)
The port of Ogdensburg sits on the St. Lawrence River in northern New York State.
When the Seaway was built, local residents were promised an economic boom. Today
what Ogdensburg mostly gets is road salt.
(Sound of crashing cargo)
Road salt and a white mineral called Wallastonite – the Dutch use it to make ceramic tile.
Front-loaders push around mountains of the stuff. In all, the port of Ogdensburg
welcomes six freighters a year and employs just six people.
Other Great Lakes ports are much bigger, but the story is similar. They handle low-value
bulk goods – grain, ore, coal – plus higher value steel. But few sexy electronic goods
from Japan come through the Seaway, or the gijillion of knick-knacks from China or
South Korea.
James Oberstar is a Congressman from Duluth. He says there’s a reason why. A
dastardly coincidence doomed the Seaway.
“Just as the Seaway was under construction, Malcolm McLean, a shipping genius, hit on
the idea of moving goods in containers.”
Containers that fit right on trains and trucks. The problem was the ships that carry those
containers were already too big for the Seaway’s locks and channels.
“That idea of container shipping gave a huge boost of energy to the East Coast, Gulf
Coast, and West Coast ports, and to the railroads.”
Leaving Great Lakes ports behind ever since the regional shipping industry has wanted to
make the Seaway bigger.
The latest effort came in 2002, when the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers studied the
economic benefits of expansion. The study said squeezing container ships through the
Seaway would bring a billion and a half dollars a year to ports like Chicago, Toledo, and
Duluth. But if you build it, would they come?
“Highly doubtful that container ships would come in. Highly doubtful.”
John Taylor is a transportation expert at Grand Valley State University in Michigan.
He’s studied Seaway traffic patterns extensively. He says there would have to be “a sea
change” in global commerce.
“Rail is too competitive, too strong moving containers from the coast in and out say from
Montreal and Halifax and into Chicago and Detroit and so on, too cost-effective for it to
make sense for a ship to bring those same containers all the way to Chicago.”
The expansion study sparked a flurry of opposition across the Great Lakes. It failed to
mention the cost of replumbing the Seaway — an estimated 10 to 15 billion dollars. It
didn’t factor in invasive species that show up in foreign ships’ ballasts. Invasives already
cost the economy 5 billion dollars a year, and environmentalists said it glossed over the
ecological devastation of dredging and blasting a deeper channel.
Even the shipping industry has begun to distance itself from expansion. Steve Fisher
directs the American Great Lakes Ports Association.
“There was quite a bit of opposition expressed through the region, and in light of that
opposition we took stock of just how much and how strongly we felt on the issue and
quite frankly there just wasn’t a strong enough interest.”
Most experts now believe expansion won’t happen for at least another generation.
Environmentalists and other critics hope it won’t happen at all.
So instead, the Seaway is changing its tactics. Richard Corfe runs Canada’s side of the
waterway. He says the vast majority of Seaway traffic is actually between Great Lakes
ports, not overseas. So, the Seaway’s focus now is to lure more North American shippers
to use the locks and channels.
“Our efforts have to be towards maximizing the use of what we have now for the benefit
of both countries, the economic, environmental, and social benefit.”
Today, trucks and trains haul most goods from coastal ports to Great Lakes cities.
Shippers want to steal some of that cargo, take it off the roads and rails, and put it on
seaway ships headed for Great Lakes ports.
For decades, international shippers have wanted bigger locks and channels in the St. Lawrence Seaway. Earlier this month, the Seaway’s chief in Canada said expansion is off the table, at least for a generation. The Great Lakes Radio Consortium’s David Sommerstein
reports:
Transcript
For decades, international shippers have wanted bigger locks and channels in the St. Lawrence Seaway. Earlier this month, the Seaway’s chief in Canada said expansion is off the table, at least for a generation. The Great Lakes Radio Consortium’s David Sommerstein reports:
Only a third of the world’s shipping fleet can fit in the Seaway. Industry has long said digging deeper drafts would bring much needed commerce to Great Lakes ports.
But Dick Corfe told shippers at a conference in Toronto there’d be no changes for fifteen to twenty years. Corfe is CEO of the St. Lawrence Seaway Management Corporation, which runs Canada’s half of the waterway.
“We have to work with what we have. We have the physical constraints of the locks. The ships can’t be any bigger than the locks, and we have an obligation to try and maximize the use of the system around the current infrastructure.”
Corfe said the way to do that is to move goods between East Coast and Great Lakes ports by ship instead of truck or train.
Corfe’s remarks come after the Army Corps of Engineers backed off a study last year that recommended expansion. Environmentalists said dredging and blasting a bigger channel would devastate Great Lakes ecology.
A bridge for a river... this portion of the Erie Canal crossed the Genesee River via an aqueduct in Rochester, NY. This photo was taken around 1914. (From the collection of the Rochester Public Library Local History Division)
Man-made canals allowed non-native species to swim into the Great Lakes. Some of them wreaked havoc on fish and habitat in the lakes. (Photo by Lester Graham)
One of the earliest invaders of the Great Lakes, sea lampreys heavily damaged commercial fisheries upon their arrival. (Photo courtesy of the Great Lakes Fishery Commission)
The Ten Threats to the Great Lakes” is looking first at alien invasive species. There are more than 160 non-native species in the Great Lakes basin. If they do environmental or economic harm, they’re called invasive species. There are estimates that invasive species cost the region billions of dollars a year. Different species got here different ways. David Sommerstein tells us how some of the region’s earliest invaders got into the Lakes:
Transcript
We’re bringing you an extensive series on Ten Threats to the Great Lakes. The Great Lakes Radio Consortium’s Lester Graham is guiding us through the reports:
“The Ten Threats to the Great Lakes” is looking first at alien invasive species. There are more than 160 non-native species in the Great Lakes basin. If they do environmental or economic harm, they’re called invasive species. There are estimates that invasive species cost the region billions of dollars a year. Different species got here different ways. David Sommerstein tells us how some of the region’s earliest invaders got into the Lakes:
If the history of invasive species were a movie, it would open like this:
(Sound of banjo)
It’s 1825. Politicians have just ridden the first ship across the newly dug Erie Canal from Buffalo to New York.
(Sound of “The Erie Canal”)
“I’ve got an old mule, and her name is Sal. Fifteen miles on the Erie Canal…”
Chuck O’Neill is an invasive species expert with New York Sea Grant.
“At the canal’s formal opening, Governor DeWitt Clinton dumped a cask of Lake Erie water; he dumped that water into New York Harbor.”
Meanwhile, in Buffalo, a cask of Hudson River water was triumphantly poured into Lake Erie.
“In a movie, that would be the flashback with the impending doom-type music in the background.”
(Sound of ominous music)
It was an engineering and economic milestone, but a danger lurked. For the first time since glaciers carved the landscape twelve thousand years ago, water from the Hudson and water from the Great Lakes mixed.
(Sound of “Dragnet” theme)
Enter the villain: the sea lamprey. It’s a slimy, snake-like parasite in the Atlantic Ocean. It sucks the blood of host fish.
Within a decade after the Erie Canal and its network of feeders opened, the sea lamprey uses the waterways to swim into Lake Ontario. By the 1920’s and 30’s, it squirms into the upper Lakes, bypassing Niagara Falls through the Welland Canal.
What happens next is among the most notorious examples of damage done by an invasive species in the Great Lakes. By the 1950’s, the sea lamprey devastates Lake trout populations in Lake Superior. Mark Gaden is with the Great Lakes Fishery Commission.
“They changed a way of life in the Great Lakes basin, the lampreys. They preyed directly on fish, they drove commercial fisheries out of business, the communities in the areas that were built around the fisheries were impacted severely.”
The sea lamprey wasn’t the only invader that used the canals. Canal barges carried stowaway plants and animals in their hulls and ballast. In the mid-1800’s, the European faucet snail clogged water intakes across the region. The European pea clam, purple loosestrife, marsh foxtail, flowering rush – all used the canal system to enter the Great Lakes.
Chuck O’Neill says the spread of invasive species also tells the tale of human transportation.
“If you look at a map, you can pretty much say there was some kind of a right-of-way – railroad, canal, stageline – that was in those areas just by the vegetation patterns.”
Almost one hundred invasive species came to the Great Lakes this way before 1960. O’Neill says every new arrival had a cascading effect.
“Each time you add in to an ecosystem another organism that can out-compete the native organisms that evolved there, you’re gradually making that ecosystem more and more artificial, less and less stable, much more likely to be invaded by the next invader that comes along.”
(Sound of “Dragnet” theme)
The next one in the Great Lakes just might be the Asian Carp. It’s swimming up the Illinois River, headed toward Lake Michigan. Cameron Davis directs the Alliance for the Great Lakes.
“If this thing gets in, it can cause catastrophic damage to the Great Lakes, ‘cause it eats thirty, forty percent of its body weight in plankton every day, and plankton are the base of the food chain in the Great Lakes.”
The U.S. Army Corps of Engineers has installed an electric barrier in the Chicago Sanitary and Ship Canal that might stop the carp. But as long as the canals around the region remain open for shipping and recreation, it’s likely more invaders may hitch a ride or simply swim into the Great Lakes.
Type E Botulism is taking its toll on loons and other waterfowl in the Great Lakes region. (Photo courtesy of the National Park Service)
A relatively new disease that kills birds and fish continues to spread in the Great Lakes basin. Scientists want to understand how Type E botulism is transmitted before it becomes an epidemic. The Great Lakes Radio Consortium’s David Sommerstein reports:
Transcript
A relatively new disease that kills birds and fish continues to spread in the Great Lakes basin. Scientists want to understand how Type E Botulism is transmitted before it becomes an epidemic. The Great Lakes Radio Consortium’s David Sommerstein reports:
Type E Botulism has killed thousands of loons, mergansers, and other birds on Lakes Ontario and Erie since 1998. So when biologist Tom Langen heard two dead seagulls on the St. Lawrence River had it, he investigated. He took a 350-mile boat ride along the length of the river. He collected all the dead birds and fish he could find for testing.
Langen says the toxin is related to invasive species like the round goby and zebra mussels and passed up the food chain.
“The link seems to be somehow associated between mussels, the fish which feed on the mussels, and then the birds and fish that feed on the round gobies or feed on the mussels.”
Langen says stopping the spread of Type E Botulism is also important for people. Humans can get the disease if they eat birds or fish that are contaminated.
Chronic wasting disease is affecting many captive deer, and has now been found in New York. Some question whether the disease has spread to wild deer. (Photo by Dr. Beth Williams, University of Wyoming, courtesy of CWD Alliance)
Chronic Wasting Disease has now been found in New York
and officials there are killing and testing hundreds of wild deer. They’re trying to keep the fatal brain disease from spreading to other animals. The Great Lakes Radio Consortium’s David Sommerstein reports:
Transcript
Chronic Wasting Disease has now been found in New York and officials there
are killing and testing hundreds of wild deer. They’re trying to keep the
fatal brain disease from spreading to other animals. The Great Lakes Radio
Consortium’s David Sommerstein reports:
Five captive deer in central New York tested positive for chronic wasting
disease earlier this month. It was the first time the neurological sickness
appeared in the Northeast.
Officials’ biggest concern is whether the ailment has spread to the wild. That’s why they’re killing and sampling up to 420 wild deer near where the
disease was detected.
Ward Stone is New York’s lead wildlife pathologist. He says those measures
are important, but they may not help in the long term.
“It would be nice if we could eradicate it in the next few weeks and it
doesn’t take hold, but I think it’s here to stay and I would not be
surprised to one day see it from Boston to Los Angeles.”
Chronic wasting disease has been found in 12 states, including Wisconsin and
Illinois. There’s no evidence it affects humans. Still, the Centers for
Disease Control and Prevention recommends against eating meat from infected
deer.
The Great Gray Owl is a rare sighting south of the U.S.-Canadian border. (Photo by Matt Victoria, Camillus, NY. www.fickity.net)
Ornithologist Gerry Smith, always alert alongside the fields of northern New York. (Photo by David Sommerstein)
Reporter David Sommerstein captured this pic of the Great Gray by holding up his digital camera to Gerry's telescope.
The Great Gray Owl usually lives deep in the northern forests of Canada. But due to scarce food, thousands of the big owls have drifted south. They’ve drifted into southern Ontario and Quebec, even crossing the border into Minnesota, Wisconsin, and Michigan. Last month, a Great Gray was spotted in New York, the first one documented there in almost a decade. The Great Lakes Radio Consortium’s David Sommerstein was there when it
happened:
Transcript
The Great Gray Owl usually lives deep in the northern forests of Canada. But due to scarce food,
thousands of the big owls have drifted south. They’ve drifted into southern Ontario and Quebec,
even crossing the border into Minnesota, Wisconsin, and Michigan. Last month, a Great Gray
was spotted in New York, the first one documented there in almost a decade. The Great Lakes
Radio Consortium’s David Sommerstein was there when it happened:
Ornithologist Gerry Smith had invited me to see some of the best raptor habitat in northern New
York. We took off in his cluttered Saturn wagon.
“Here we go!…” (sound of engine turning on)
Gerry wears a beat up canvas hat, green sweatshirt, and always has one hand on his binoculars.
He started birdwatching when he was 13 as a sort of therapy.
“My father passed away when I was 15, but he was terminally ill, and I needed an escape, you
know, obviously as a 13 year-old kid I didn’t know that, but I got hooked, and the rest, as they
say, is history.”
More than 40 years later, he’s never had a job not related to birds. And he’s in his element
cruising the back roads of Upstate New York.
These farm fields are near the St. Lawrence River. They’re ideal for hawks and owls. They’re
grassy with occasional tree stands. And they don’t get as much snow as other parts of the state.
So birds can snag the mice and voles they live on all winter long.
In no time, Gerry’s spotting raptors. There’s a hawk perched in a twisted elm…
“Yep, it’s a Red-tailed Hawk and I think it’s got prey because it’s bending down like it’s eating.”
A rough-legged hawk soars above us, black and white plumage glowing in the sun.
“The bird was just lofting along.”
A Short-eared Owl glides past a farmhouse.
“Look how that is flying. It’s flying like a big fruit bat. Cutting left across the hay bales, coming
toward the house, above the house now, and drifting left.”
Smith’s also seen a snowy owl this year. But still no sign of the Great Gray owl.
The Great Gray usually lives in the far northern forests of Canada. But this year it has flown
south to the upper Great Lakes region by the thousands. Conservation biologist Jim Duncan is a
Great Gray Owl expert with the province of Manitoba. He says the phenomenon happens
cyclically, when the Great Gray’s main food source – the meadow vole – becomes scarce.
“It’s a regular migration. It’s like a robin migrating in response to food availability, except in the
case of the Great Gray Owl, it’s a longer period of time. It’s three to five years.”
Gerry Smith’s still waiting for the Great Gray in New York. It’s been spotted just across the St.
Lawrence River in Canada.
“There’s a single Great Gray Owl on Amherst Island, but not one, as far as we know, has made it
into northern New York despite the fact that a whole lot of us have been looking.”
Now, I know you’re going to call that easy foreshadowing. But believe it or not, just an hour
later, Gerry pulls the car over, grabs his binoculars, and peers at something big perched on a tree.
“We have the first Great Gray Owl that’s made it across the border. I’ll be a son of a gun. That is
so…Now I’m very enthusiastic. Hey, I’m gonna set up my scope.”
While Gerry unpacks the telescope, a raven flies to a branch just above the owl and tries to scare
it away. Birders call it “mobbing.”
“Now don’t you mob that owl, you fiend. I think that’s what he’s thinking of doing. Watch this.”
The owl holds its ground, and Gerry gets it in the telescope’s sights.
“That is so cool. It’s not facing us, it’s back is to us, but take a look, that shape is very
distinctive.”
It’s slate gray with some brown and white, round head, stocky body, as big or bigger than the
raven.
“This has been…oh, the owl just hooted. It’s a very low guttural hoot, something like a horned
owl, only deeper.”
Just then, the owl’s finally had enough. It takes flight and drifts slow and low to a stand of trees,
likely its roost. Gerry jots down the GPS coordinates and we get back in the car.
“Well, sir, we’ll finish the route and head back, but we have had undoubtedly the high point of
the day. That’s the high point of my winter.”
This Great Gray Owl migration is the biggest on record. Biologist Jim Duncan says it’s a chance
for all eager birders to help science.
“People have a real opportunity to contribute to our knowledge of the species, be they farmers,
housewives, commuters. They don’t have to be scientists.”
You do have to be respectful, though, if you want to report Great Gray sightings to wildlife
officials. Stay off private land, don’t make noise, and keep your distance. And enjoy a rare
opportunity to see a Great Gray visitor from the North.
People have depended on the locks of the Great Lakes and St. Lawrence Seaway for decades. (Photo by David Sommerstein)
Paul Giometta normally helps ships in and out of the lock. But in the winter, he helps with repairs and maintenance. (Photo by David Sommerstein)
Construction during the winter is important to keeping the locks operational. (Photo by David Sommerstein)
The locks and channels for ships in the Great Lakes and St. Lawrence Seaway are getting old. Some were built more than 75 years ago. The U.S. and Canada are conducting a multi-million dollar study to determine how to keep the aging waterway functional, so ships can continue to haul cargo between the Great Lakes and the Atlantic Ocean. While the Seaway is closed in winter, workers empty the locks of their water for annual maintenance. The Great Lakes Radio Consortium’s David Sommerstein climbed eight stories down to the bottom of one lock on the St. Lawrence River to see how it’s going:
Transcript
The locks and channels for ships in the Great Lakes
and St. Lawrence Seaway are getting old. Some were built more
than 75 years ago. The U.S. and Canada are conducting a multi-
million dollar study to determine how to keep the aging waterway
functional, so ships can continue to haul cargo between the Great
Lakes and the Atlantic Ocean. While the Seaway is closed in winter,
workers empty the locks of their water for annual maintenance. The
Great Lakes Radio Consortium’s David Sommerstein climbed eight stories
down to the bottom of one lock on the St. Lawrence River to see how
it’s going:
If you’ve never seen a lock before, it’s basically a long, concrete channel filled with water. A freighter goes in one end. Gates close in front and behind it, so the water level can be raised or lowered to move the ship up or down, and out the other end.
Here, that channel’s empty and dry and you can see how huge this lock really is. I get a queasy feeling as I ease onto the steep metal stairs. I can see the lock floor 80 feet below me. Maintenance director Jesse Hinojosa radios down to the bottom. He says workers lose track of how often they climb the stairs.
“We should get a good count of that. They go up and down all day long on it.”
(sound of steps)
I take it step by step. There’s a temporary roof overhead. The only light comes from floodlamps.
The lock gates are open so they can be worked on, so at one end of the lock are stoplogs – stacked steel that temporarily keeps the river out. Still, some water rushes through and has to be pumped out.
(sound of water rushing)
Paul Giometta tops off the fuel tank of one of 10 furnaces that heat the area. He wears a fleece hat and big yellow boots. During the shipping season, he helps guide freighters’ in and out of the lock. But in the winter, he shifts to a totally different line of work.
Giometta: “Chipping concrete, stuff like that, painting, whatever has to be done.”
Sommerstein: “It’s an old lock, there’s a lot of chipping concrete.”
Giometta: “Oh, yeah, there’s no end to that. What you fix today, years later you start all over again.”
Winter maintenance has been an annual job on this lock since the Seaway system opened in 1959. The scale of the work is almost impossible to wrap your mind around. To raise or lower a freighter, the lock flushes 22 million gallons of water in just 7 minutes. It uses gears, valves, tunnels, and huge gates to accomplish the task. Most of that equipment is original, now almost 50 years old. Every winter, it all has to be checked out and tested. Some parts are replaced.
Tom Levine directs the Seaway’s engineering department. He points to the lock’s crumbling concrete walls. He says that’s one of the biggest problems.
“The bad stuff, where the bad concrete is, you take a hammer, it sounds like a hollow wall, and these walls where you’re looking at are like 60 feet into the backfill. I mean, solid concrete, I mean, you wouldn’t believe it.”
Albert Jacquez holds his hardhat and looks up at the walls. He’s the St. Lawrence Seaway’s U.S. Administrator, based in Washington. His demeanor is like that of a homeowner wincing at his rickety porch or rotting roof.
“Well, what I see is a system that has worked well for half a century, but that in the near future needs a major overhaul.”
There are 22 other locks in the Great Lakes-St. Lawrence Seaway system. Most are owned by Canada. A binational study is underway to answer a critical question: how much will it cost to keep repairing all these locks and other infrastructure so they work for another 50 years? Jacquez says the answers the study finds could determine whether the Seaway gets a facelift or is left as is until it fails.
“Whatever those decisions are will be what they are, whether it’s ‘we’re gonna invest or we’re not gonna invest’, but they at least need the baseline numbers so that they know what they have ahead of them.”
But the study has been delayed. Lawmakers will have to wait at least a year longer than they expected because the project is so big. And President Bush has cut funding for the study in his budget plan by more than a half, which could delay it even further.
Meanwhile, keeping the Seaway open becomes more of a challenge every year. Jacquez says it’s like an old car.
“As it ages, we have to spend more and more time on it because we have more work to do.”
And workers face a hard deadline. Before spring shipping begins, where we’re standing will be flooded under 30 feet of water, so the lock can be ready to welcome the first freighter of the season.
