These questions are based on information in this issue. Answers can be found at end of this document.

As we clean up from yet another severely damaging flood on the Chehalis River, everyone has an opinion about why the 100 year floods seem to be coming every year. We are beginning to understand that damaging floods occur for many reasons. But as we seek to lay blame and devise solutions, we need to see our flood plains in a historical context.

We need to recognize that it has always flooded around here in the winter. On December 3, 1853, the following letter was printed in "The Pioneer," an Olympia paper, from the Parker, Colter, and Company Express about the road from Olympia to the Columbia. This is what they said about the Centralia/Chehalis area:

"As expressmen, we are on the road regularly and ought to know something about it. It is, at present, in exceedingly bad order, and the late freshet has made it dangerous to strangers who travel the road without a thorough understanding of It . . . "Indian Prairie [the site of Centralia] comes next, and then Wet Prairie [near present Fair Grounds] which, one week ago, was covered with water to a depth of nearly three feet. Then you come to a creek or slough [Salzer Creek], over which you must swim your horse, and, after travelling four miles of bad road through mud above your horse's knees, you come out of the woods to Mr. Saunders' [Chehalis] . . . . Passing Mr. Saunders', you come to the 'Burnt Woods' where the road passes over a bottom of rich blue clay. This is one of the worst places, as a horse sometimes sinks to his shoulders" (Centralia: The First Fifty Years, 1845 - 1900, compiled by Herndon Smith, first edition 1942, pp. 25-26).

From the journal of Phoebe Goodell Judson ("A Pioneer's Search for an Ideal Home"):

"Passing over much unoccupied country, where only now and then a hardy frontiersman was clearing up a ranch, we reached Saunders' Prairie, as it was called, but only a low, open country where for years, during the winter season, travelers were obliged to swim their horses through the swales. The thriving little village of Chehalis is now located at this place, where at that time only the one family resided" (Smith, p. 24).

"The flood land about a mile south of the Skookumchuck . . . was the section from the outlet of what is now Salzer Valley on toward the outskirts of the present city of Chehalis. Frequently, in winter, this whole area was like one large lake about four miles across. It is within the memory of many older residents that canoes often plied over this flooded section. In fact, it was a stock story that if a traveler was passing along and saw a hat floating on the flood, he was not to be surprised if a horse and rider rose up under it a moment later.

"One immigrant party, it is said, camped one night at McElroy's, now the site of the Southwest Washington Fair Grounds just south of Centralia. In the morning, when they awoke, they found themselves on a tiny island in the center of a sea of water--a mile to dry land in all directions. McElroy (Salzer) creek had flooded the area during the night. One of the men swam for help and returned with a raft" (Smith, p. 25).

The pioneers knew better than to build on the flood plain. They understood that the flood plain is the way it is because the river has meandered over it for untold centuries. They knew that although prudent measures can be taken, the river finally cannot be controlled.

Nature designed the Chehalis floodplain to be a rather flat, gigantic sponge to soak up the large quantities of rain that fall in this region. We think we know better, and if we throw in enough fill, we can build houses, stores, and industrial plants in the floodplain. Nature has been telling us, sorry, you don't get the picture. Water has to go somewhere. If you prevent it from soaking in, it will run off somewhere where you don't want it.

It has always flooded around here. But we've made some changes that make it worse. Clearcutting the timber, and scraping vegetation off the nearby hills, increases runoff. Filling the swamps and covering the pastures with asphalt and paving means that the water spreads out wherever it can go. Highways serve as unplanned dikes, channeling the water where we don't want it. And there's a wild card--global warming, which means erratic climate change. So what are we to do? Quit building on the flood plain? It's time to at least consider whether the answer to this question isn't "Yes."

Although we haven't heard about it from those who are considering "flood solutions," the "dredging and dams" approach to flood control has been going out of style for some time in the U.S. The 1993 floods along the Missouri and upper Mississippi convinced people that the older methods were not working. Several entire small towns in the Mississippi Basin decided to move to higher ground after the 1993 flood. The principle of floodplain management is described in a recent book, "Silenced Rivers," by Patrick McCulley:

"The principle of floodplain management is to allow some land to flood so that other land can stay dry -- letting floodplain wetlands play their natural role of providing flood storage while strengthening the protection for buildings at risk from exceptional floods. Flood management requires regulations which discourage new floodplain development, financial incentives for people living in the riskiest areas to move to higher ground, improved flood warning systems, strengthened embankments around urban areas, flood proofing of farm buildings and other isolated structures by elevating them or building ring-dikes around them, and allowing the most threatened floodplain farmland to revert to wetland" (McCulley, p. 193).

The Centralia-Chehalis Flood Control Project Evaluation Phase I Report prepared for the Lewis County Economic Development Council Washington concluded that, "Construction of large flood control structures is the only alternative that will actually prevent flooding from occurring in the Centralia-Chehalis region." History and experience suggest that nothing can actually prevent flooding from occurring in the Centralia-Chehalis region. A more modest and more realistic approach, one that is not blinded by dreams of "flood control," one that does not destroy upstream valleys with dams that eventually silt up or actually cause floods, as happened on the Cowlitz last year, one that does not shuttle water downstream to become somebody else's problem, can mitigate the effects of floods. Can this approach work here in this watershed? Why not?

Letters and comments are invited. Please send us your name, address and day time telephone number.

One reader submitted a number of interesting comments and concerns about sludge application and the impact it might have on nearby property value and uses, but without a name and address for verification it cannot be used.

To the Editor:

I have some questions!

First of all the stories are half truths. The pictures (Issue 3) are misleading. What kind of bugs live on trees? Who is behind this paper, Drops of Water? Why does the Fish and Wildlife want to take property rights from landowners? Can you prove that a landowner kills fish? Can you stop erosion? How do cattle kill fish? What good is a farm or a few acres of land without water?
P. Niemcziek
Frances, WA

To the Editor:

My areas of concern are erosion, water quality, water tables. The silty riverbank along North River, where I live, is being eaten by the river a couple of feet every year. It also appears that the river is attempting to change its' course across the floodplain. Is there anything that can be done? Or does the "river always win"?
B. Beckett
Cosmopolis, WA

To the Editor:

We own land on Scammon Creek, in fact the north and south forks meet on our boundary. I am very concerned with keeping the creek healthy but how do you do it? We didn't study ecology when I was in school, so tips on creek health are our concern.
K. Coppess
Centralia, WA

To the Editor:

My three areas of concern are:

The life cycle and needs of each salmon species.

A highlighted stream or fish restoration project.

Learning what restoration projects are going on.
P. Cameron
Rochester, WA

Reader comments are welcomed. We will respond to these inquiries in future issues.

Coho salmon have been much in the news, as the federal National Marine Fisheries Service considers whether they will need to list most runs of the fish south of the Columbia River as "threatened" under the Endangered Species Act.

Coho, often called "silvers," have been declining in the wild throughout this century. Fishery scientists have identified 35 "stocks" (fish from a particular river system) at risk of extinction in the U.S., south of Alaska. Coho have vanished from more than half of their historic range--largely through exclusion by dams--and are threatened in most the rest. According to one estimate, healthy stocks can be found in only 6.5% of the coho's original habitat.

A quick tour of the coho's life cycle may help to illustrate its habitat needs, and the kinds of impacts that may threaten its survival.

Silvers begin life in late autumn as fertilized eggs deposited in gravel nests known as "redds." (A female coho may lay 2,500 eggs in her final act of life before dying.) To spawn, the fish need clean, pea-to-orange sized gravel. The developing eggs need clean, cool, highly oxygenated water. Sediment covering stream bottoms due to erosion can restrict spawning habitat or smother developing eggs.

When young fish (called "fry") emerge in the spring, they hide along the stream edges and in backwater areas. At this stage they need to find intact stream banks covered with overhanging vegetation. By summer, they have grown enough to move into the deeper pools in the middle of the stream which are formed when the current plunges over logs and other obstructions. They need cool water to thrive, ideally between 53-58 degrees F., and never above 68 degrees. Water temperatures can climb to dangerous levels for them when streams are left unshaded or too much water is taken from the stream for other uses. In areas devoid of large instream logs, there are also fewer deep cool pools in which to live.

During the winter the juvenile silvers avoid high water flows by moving into side channels and beaver ponds, or by hiding behind log jams, all the while feeding on insects. Their chances of survival during this phase are greatly reduced if streams are stripped of their wetlands, if stream meanders and beaver ponds have been eliminated, or if few logs remain in the stream channel. Salmon restoration efforts are often focused on reopening old creek channels or creating small side ponds since the lack of appropriate wintertime habitat is often the limiting factor for coho survival in the streams.

In their second spring, coho are ready to go to sea (and at this point are called "smolts"). They still need clean water, of course, and they also need naturally high water flow to help carry them down to the oceans. Dams, by altering water flows, can interfere with this out-migration. Near the end of the their journey to the sea, smolts pause for a few weeks in estuaries, hiding and feeding in marsh channels while adjusting to saltwater. The loss of estuarine wetlands may leave them ill-prepared for ocean survival.

Silvers spend only about a year and a half at sea, but during this time they grow rapidly. While in the ocean they face predators such as birds (as small fish on the way out) and marine mammals (as larger fish heading home). In the past they also faced predators in the form of the sport and commercial fishermen, but there have been complete closures of ocean fishing for coho in recent years. While in the ocean they can also be heavily affected by changing ocean conditions, such as the periodic "El Nino" which brings warmer water up the coast from the south, which can limit food supplies and leave them too weak to survive.

Coho return to West Coast rivers in the early fall, first congregating in the estuaries (where pollution concentrations can be high) while readjusting to fresh water. Then they begin the return journey upstream, seeking to reach the small, gently sloped tributary streams where they prefer to spawn. Once again they need adequate water flows--many rivers are all but depleted in the fall by withdrawals for human uses. But if nothing has blocked the completion of their journey, the coho (like all salmon) spawn and then die, while their eggs settle into their redds to begin the cycle anew.

The coho's life-cycle, moving from stream to river to bay to the ocean and back again, touches the environment at every point. Everything that happens in a watershed affects the fish. Thus, there is no one simple thing that can be done to protect the remaining coho stocks or to restore damaged habitat. We all can play a role in protecting the remaining coho salmon by recognizing that everything we do that affects water affects the coho's migratory way of life and take due care.

For more information on how you can help salmon recovery efforts in the Pacific Northwest, please contact your local watershed restoration group or Pacific States Marine Fisheries Commission, 45 SE 82nd Dr., Suite 100, Gladstone, OR 97027-2522.

Washington Department of Ecology conducted an extensive study of the upper Chehalis system. The results of that study indicate that there is simply no capacity for the river to absorb nonpoint or point discharges within the area known as the Chehalis Reach.

As controversial as this study is, the Chehalis River Council supports the conclusions and recommendations documented in that study. This is the third and final article in the series.

Summer on the Chehalis

It's summer, and the sun beats down on the Chehalis Basin. Leaves fill the trees and grass covers the ground. The air is warm, and long clear days are only occasionally broken by a rainy spell. In the Chehalis River and its tributaries, flows drop, the water heats up, and in some places streams go dry.

For people, the summer weather is pleasant and easy - kids run barefoot in T-shirts, families camp in the forest and splash in the water. But for the Chehalis River, summer is a harsh and difficult time.

Pumps pull water from the channel for irrigation and stock watering. The water table drops as wells and roots draw on the waters stored in the ground. Very little is left to run through the tributaries into the River and out to the sea.

Where trees grow thick along the stream and river banks, the shade helps the water to stay cool. But where the banks are bare, the sun heats the air, the water, and the channel bottom, and the water gets warmer. In these areas, the fish and other creatures that love cool water are driven to whatever shelter is available, or perish in the heat.

With the warming of the water and decreased flow of the streams and rivers in the Chehalis Basin other problems appear. As the water warms, it carries less oxygen. Unless a riffle or rapids churns the water, oxygen moves from the air to the water poorly. Thus, slow, warm stream and river stretches are easily robbed of oxygen and regain the oxygen only very slowly. As the summer progresses through July into August, oxygen in the waters of the Chehalis River and its tributaries reaches its lowest levels as flows drop and temperatures peak.

The long days and warm temperatures also stimulate the growth of plants and algae in the water. In the slow, open, lake-like stretches of the Centralia Reach and middle portion of the Black River, microscopic floating plants called phytoplankton flourish. Where the channels are sunny and shallow, aquatic plants and attached algae grow. On clear days these plants produce excess oxygen, but at night they continue to breathe oxygen, as all living creatures do. This can make poor oxygen levels worse, driving them down to a minimum in the early morning. If pollutants that enter the river are high in nutrients, the phytoplankton, aquatic plants, and attached algae may bloom, resulting in large growths that may create a nuisance and drive early morning oxygen levels even lower.

The Black River and certain stretches of the Chehalis River have probably always had relatively poor water quality in the summer due to slow flows, summer heat, wetlands, and other natural conditions. Anywhere that human activities add oxygen-demanding or nutrient- rich waste materials to these stretches of the Chehalis or its tributaries, oxygen levels in the water that were naturally low are driven down even more.

These waste materials can come from many different sources. "Point sources" are concentrated sources such as a municipal sewage treatment plant, an industrial wastewater discharge, or a concentrated animal rearing operation. "Nonpoint sources" come from diffuse sources such as storm water, ground water, livestock range operations, or onsite septic systems.

Cattle may be raised in operations of all different sizes, from a few animals raised by a family to a large commercial dairy. The largest dairy farms may have hundreds of animals, and with those animals comes tons of manure. If poorly handled, this waste could reach the streams and rivers, where the fish would be suffocated, stream life poisoned by toxic ammonia, and the bottom smothered in muck. Manure on the bottom could continue to rob oxygen and release ammonia and other nutrients for years.

Where cattle can reach the water, the banks are beaten bare and the water muddied. The cattle leave their manure in the stream, where it remains to decay and rob the stream of oxygen. When fisheries staff from the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service walked the basin in 1992, they found signs of this problem in almost every creek and river they examined.

Food processing companies use fields along the Chehalis to grow crops with their wastewater, and most dairies use their manure on fields as a fertilizer. The waste must be put on the fields at the right amount for the plants, or the excess will flow down to the ground water or over the surface to the nearest stream. If the field is right next to a stream or river, the excess waste in the ground water may quickly reach the stream.

Wastewater from city sewers or from industrial operations continues to flow to treatment plants day and night, where pollutants are reduced before discharge to the river. Although treated to levels set by national standards, pollutants still remain in the wastewater that the river must assimilate.

Every so often a summer downpour hits the Chehalis Basin. Where the ground is hard and bare, or on paved areas, the water runs quickly off into drains and channels, and on to the streams and rivers. This stormwater can carry with it pollutants from whatever wastes are laying on the ground - livestock and pet manure, fertilizer, trash, or yard waste. A slug of this polluted stormwater may hit the river during the storm, and a day later when the good weather returns, it is still in the river moving downstream, full of bacteria and using up oxygen.

In the Centralia Reach, the Chehalis River feels the problems of summer the worst. Here, the river becomes very wide and meandering, almost like a long, narrow lake. The City of Chehalis and Darigold release their treated wastewater here, which mixes slowly into the river as it moves downstream. At bends in the river deep pools have formed. Here cold water lies trapped at the bottom, while the warmer water flows over the top. Salzer Creek enters, itself depleted of oxygen and full of pollutants. Ground water seeps into the river which may carry pollutants from a number of sources such as a dairy, a landfill, or a field where wastewater is being spread.

In the deep pools, oxygen from the surface barely penetrates the upper layer of warmer water, and the sediments use up what little oxygen is present. In these pools, oxygen disappears, and the chemistry of the water is transformed. Hydrogen sulfide is formed, with its characteristic "rotten-egg" smell; although unpleasant to the nose, it is toxic to fish. The lack of oxygen also allows ammonia and phosphorus to enter the water at high levels. The bottom of these pools are areas completely hostile to fish and most other aquatic life.

In the surface waters of the Centralia Reach, oxygen drops to its lowest levels. Temperatures at the surface soar in the wide unshaded stretches, reaching levels near the surface that are almost too high for a salmon to survive. Any salmon trying to move upstream, as they begin to do in late August, will be forced to move through a narrow layer between the hot surface waters and oxygen-starved bottom waters. Salmon juveniles that might otherwise enjoy the quiet waters of the Centralia Reach are absent due to the harsh conditions, and the only resident fish are squawfish or other warm-water fishes.

In the long, hot days of summer, the Chehalis River is the most sensitive. Burdened with low flows, high temperatures, and oxygen-demanding pollutants the river teeters on the edge of disaster. An accidental spill or unlucky combination of problems can send it over the edge, knocking oxygen down to zero, releasing toxic ammonia, and leaving behind dead salmon and other aquatic creatures. The fish kill of August 1989 showed this to be true.

We are interested in learning what sources of information you depend upon during a flood event.

One reader reports being told by a radio station that since they didn't broadcast river levels it wasn't a problem, forgetting that a flood crest does move downstream.

Did you use the Internet? Did you find useful data? How about NOAA weather radio? How about your local radio station?