Fish First

Even as the federal bureaucracy binds the feet and hands of those who would restore salmonids it facilitates large-scale salmonid destruction, particularly if the destroyers are rich and powerful. On the East Fork of the Lewis River, for example, NMFS is helping J.L. Storedahl & Son's, Inc., prepare a "habitat conservation plan" so that it can proceed with a 4,000-ton-a-day expansion of its gravel mine, thereby tripling the size of its operation. Under Section Ten of the Endangered Species Act landowners and industries can be granted permission to kill endangered species if they mitigate the damage elsewhere. Habitat conservation plans are a good idea, and sometimes they work fine; but in this case the mitigation is a sham. Commenting to NMFS on the plan, the Washington Department of Fish and Wildlife wrote, "Mining activities in the Channel Migration Zone are not compatible with long-term goals for management of naturally functioning river systems." The agency went on to state that the damage cannot be mitigated, citing a "huge potential for long-term degradation" of fish.

Considering Storedahl's abominable environmental record, it astonishes me that NMFS would even consider allowing the expansion. Already gravel and untreated storm-water spill into wetlands. The site is littered with bleeding oil tanks and other debris. David T. McDonald, attorney for Friends of the East Fork—an outfit that works closely with Fish First—reports that the company has operated for 10 years without a required shoreline permit and charges it with non-permitted diversion of Dean Creek into a slurry pond (thereby wiping out an important spawning area for chum salmon), and non-permitted outflow of that slurry pond into the river.

Three years ago Friends filed a Freedom of Information Act request with NMFS and the Fish and Wildlife Service for all public records involving Storedahl and its nascent habitat conservation plan. The agencies withheld the information (illegally, the Justice Department later ruled), informing Friends that Storedahl was "uncomfortable" with sharing it. Of course it was uncomfortable. When the river hits the existing mine complex it widens from 50 feet to 300 feet, running warm and shallow over old scars. In February 1996 it rushed over the destabilized floodplain, tearing out a mile of spawning habitat and rerouting itself through abandoned mining pits, now full of squawfish and bass that swill salmonid fry and smolts. As the Washington Fish and Wildlife Commission has declared by unanimous resolution, "gravel mining should not occur in riverine floodplains."

"Any great salmon river has a chum run," says Loomis. "Chum fry are the food source for everything else. Mining has wiped them out. You can go into the river above the slurry ponds, and you won't find any slime. You go in below and you'll find slime coating almost every bar, wiping out spawning habitat. It's the flocculants they dump into the ponds to wash the gravel."

Because of the proposed gravel-mine expansion American Rivers has listed the East Fork of the Lewis as one of the 13 most endangered rivers in the nation. After hearing the frustrations of good people trying to recover ESA-listed salmonids I decided to have my own consultation with NMFS, placing a call to Steve Landino, branch chief in Washington State. I told him I wanted to hear the agency's side of the story and that I hoped he could ease a few of my concerns. Landino said he didn't think it was "a good idea" to write an article about all this, then dispensed blame and excuses.

"The Corps has to satisfy their Endangered Species Act obligation," he said. "So they will hold that permit request, work on it to fit their requirements and our requirements for the biological assessment they have to produce. It sits at the Corps while they're doing that. Fish First blames us for that, frankly. So we take a bad shot when we don't need to get one.

"At some point the Corps forwards that biological assessment to us, and then we consult on it. Fish First is very active in calling everybody during that process. Sometimes we'll be spending a great deal of time on the phone with them instead of working on the permit.

"Last year Congressman Baird's office got involved. It would go better if Fish First would design their projects to comply with the programmatics [mechanisms by which a batch of similar projects can be approved at once] that we've already completed. But they are pretty much sold on their way. I certainly want to get their programs done, but it's not all our fault that it doesn't happen as fast as they want it to."

But next morning Landino surprised me—pleasantly. He called back, said it had been late in the day and he'd been tired, and requested a conference call with himself, his staff biologists, me, Loomis, Dyrland and Kaeding.

During the conference call Landino proved himself a skilled bureaucrat in the best sense of the word, adroitly deflecting acrimony and old complaints and keeping the discussion focused on solutions. He sounded like a different man. He revealed that for Fish First projects there were alternatives to Section Seven--perhaps Sections Ten or Four. Neither requires a federal agency like the Corps to get into the mix. Programmatics were a possibility under these sections, too. Projects would be "really, really streamlined," he said. Finally, he suggested that Fish First meet with him and his staff. I heard the sound of flipping calendars, a date being set (January 30), then copious noises of satisfaction.