Brian Mittge, The Chronicle, Monday, June 30, 2003
Mario Gallegos opens the silt valve to keep material from building up at the bottom of the traveling screen pit, which filters water before it is piped to town. The procedure is part of his normal rounds on Fridays.
Mario Gallegos likes to say that anyone could do his job, but not everyone would.
Not everyone, he explains, would be willing to live deep in the woods, two miles from the nearest neighbor.
Few could handle the responsibility of providing water to an entire city 24 hours a day, seven days a week, with only two days off per month.
Gallegos supervises the city of Chehalis' water intake station on a pristine stretch of river east of the city.
He has battled floods, mudslides and deep-freezes to keep the water flowing in the Twin Cities.
The machinery he cares for filters leaves and debris from the river's water before it flows down gently sloping pipes 20 miles into town.
"It seems like a very simple job, which a 12-year-old could do, but at the same time it's a very unique job in that mother nature has a lot of control over what happens up here," he said. "It's a heavy burden that I carry with me where ever I go." Gallegos lives and works along a beautiful city-owned stretch of river in the middle of seemingly endless tracts of Weyerhaeuser timber land.
He keeps careful records of the water's temperature and murkiness, or turbidity. His hand-written daily notes have filled more than 200 spiral-bound books in his 25 years on the job.
The river's water is channeled into a dam and fish ladder at a natural falls on the North Fork of the Newaukum River. Two-by-fours regulate the water level at the dam and the intake pipe.
One of his most important duties is to maintain the "traveling screen," which filters the water before it is piped to town.
The machine looks like a series of window screens strapped to a water wheel. It is normally powered by electricity, but during power outages Gallegos has turned it by hand.
During several bitterly cold winters he used a sledgehammer to break ice, day and night, to keep it from freezing at the intake pipe.
His family keeps enough food at home to be self-sufficient in case of emergencies.
They have been cut off from town for days by mudslides or downed trees. One slide a decade ago rushed down the hill, across the river and partway up the other side of the valley between his home and the county road.
Weyerhaeuser flew in a generator by helicopter that time, he said.
He and his wife Louise live in a tidy blue city-owned house under horse chestnut trees Gallegos planted 25 years ago. The rent is free, and he is paid a yearly salary of $32,700.
Gallegos said he doesn't mind tending to the equipment at all hours and acting as a security guard for the city equipment.
Alarms sound when the equipment has a problem.
"They have never failed, it's usually 2 or 3 in the morning," he said with a chuckle.
He's on the job even when he goes to town, keeping a constant eye on the weather.
Heavy rainfall can increase the turbidity of the water, which requires him to head home for hands-on action to prevent filtration problems at the other end of the pipe.
"It is a very jealous position. It wants you all to itself," he said.
The intake station was opened about 1912, Gallegos said, and served both Centralia and Chehalis via separate lines. For years Gallegos worked for both cities, but Centralia has since abandoned its pipes and draws its water from wells.
The river water is filtered and treated to state standards in Chehalis, yet Gallegos simply drinks from the river when he's thirsty.
"It is the sweetest water you ever tasted," he said. He can't remember it ever making him sick.
Gallegos' day usually starts around dawn.
On a recent day he met a reporter for an early morning trip along some of the winding Weyerhaeuser timber roads that surround his home like a spider web.
Gallegos, wearing jeans, a striped flannel shirt and rubber boots, was doing research.
Part of his job is to visit the area about five miles upstream of the intake station where a 1986 mudslide turned the North Fork into a muddy mess.
The city had to take its water from a backup point on the Chehalis River. The mudslide also wiped out the North Fork's coho runs, which only started recovering about three years ago, he said.
After the slide, engineers drilled perforated pipes several hundred feet horizontally into the hillside to drain water and prevent another disaster. Gallegos has to check the drainage periodically.
As his red city pickup truck bumps along the gravel roads toward the slide area, he talks about his journey from Saltillo, Mexico to Chehalis.
The oldest of 12 children, he traveled with his family over the Rio Grande River for an illegal venture to a better life in America.
His family was frequently deported back to Mexico, but Gallegos said he enjoyed both the bus rides south and the adventure of sneaking back north again.
Gesturing with one hand, then the other as he drove down the narrow logging roads, Gallegos remembers times when the Rio Grande was a rushing monster, deadly without the help of the expert guides who aided crossing, for a fee.
His father finished the difficult process of naturalization in 1954 while they were living in the U.S.
Finding a sponsor and proper documentation would have been impossible if they were still living in Mexico, Gallegos said.
Through language difficulties and misunderstandings, Gallegos' public school education ended when he missed school on the day of the fourth grade entry exam.
The now-legal family bought a 1951 Ford and traveled west from Texas picking cotton, tomatoes, lettuce and hops.
He learned English by translating for his father — an experience that taught him some colorful language when dealing with angry farmers.
After marrying and having four children, Gallegos took a crash course in the early 1970s and received his GED diploma, then studied for a year at a community college.
After outreach work to Mexican farm workers in the Yakima area, he came to Chehalis to plant Christmas trees.
When he heard about the job opening at the water intake station, he and Louise walked a half mile past the city gate under a canopy of cedar and maple trees to the secluded home and work area.
They decided it looked like heaven.
He didn't think much of his chances to get the job — there were 84 applicants, he remembers, and he worried that his Mexican heritage might work against him.
He had seen signs in Texas reading "no Mexicans or coloreds allowed," but that discrimination apparently didn't exist in the Chehalis Public Works Department.
His first day on the job was June 12, 1978.
Chehalis Mayor Bob Spahr gave him a 25-year award last week.
Current Chehalis Public Works Director Jim Nichols said Gallegos puts his heart and soul into the job.
"That is a very important part of his life. He takes great pride in it and he feels a great deal of responsibility about what he does," Nichols said.
Although his 62nd birthday is approaching in July, Gallegos shows no sign of slowing down.
He's remodeling an old building on the city-owned property and plans to replace a wooden bridge that's been attacked by ants.
As he pushed through alder thickets growing on the 1986 mudslide, Gallegos said he hasn't even thought about retiring.
An isolated life changes a person, he said as his German shepherd Hondo followed him through shoulder-high horsetail plants glistening with the morning dew.
"As long as I can do my duties," he said, "there's no law against working 'til I die."
Brian Mittge covers politics, the environment and Lewis County government for The Chronicle. He may be reached by e-mail at bmittge@chronline.com, or by telephoning 807-8237.
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