WATER, WATER

What’s your favorite river? Here’s a story about mine

By John D. Sutter, CNN

updated 9:32 AM EDT, Sat July 5, 2014

Me and John Dye, of Rivers for Change, at the Golden Gate Bridge on Friday.

STORY HIGHLIGHTS

  1. John Sutter on Friday completed a three-week trip down the San Joaquin River
  2. The river was named the most endangered in the country by an advocacy group
  3. Readers voted for Sutter to write about rivers as part of his Change the List project
  4. The San Joaquin travels through rich agricultural land in California — and it runs dry

Editor’s note: John D. Sutter is a columnist for CNN Opinion and creator of CNN’s Change the List project. Follow him on Twitter, Facebook or Google+. E-mail him at ctl@cnn.com. The opinions expressed in this commentary are solely those of the author.

San Francisco (CNN) — Three weeks and about 400 miles ago, I started a trip down the “most endangered” river in the United States, California’s San Joaquin. The underloved river is born in the Sierra Nevada and snakes across one of the most productive agricultural regions in the world, California’s Central Valley.

I finished that journey — which mostly involved kayaking, but also a fair bit of walking, since the San Joaquin runs dry for about 40 miles — on Friday beneath the Golden Gate Bridge here in San Francisco.

It was a moment I’ll always remember: that behemoth, cardinal-red bridge towering overhead, clanging in the wind, the distant roar of traffic, water rushing through a 1.7-mile channel that drains about 40% of this country-sized state’s land area. The ocean tossed the kayak around like a piece of dough.

John D. Sutter

Thirty-five mph winds seared salt water to my face, and tears of joy ran down my cheeks. It was thrilling but also bittersweet. I knew that not a single drop of San Joaquin water made it to the bridge, which should be the end of the river. All of it — 100% — is diverted for a variety of human uses, mostly for farming.

As I crossed under the bridge, which separates the San Francisco Bay from the Pacific Ocean, my thoughts were as choppy as the water. But between “Don’t flip!” and “ROCK!” I looked up at the bridge and remembered a moment from my June 11 hike at the headwaters of the San Joaquin.

I could hear the river rumbling down in a valley to the left on that mountain trail, and I said something to my hiking companion, Darin McQuoid — a pro kayaker who goes careening off 80-foot waterfalls like it’s no big thing — about how, to me, the river sounded like a highway.

No, he said, it’s the opposite. Highways sound like rivers.

San Joaquin River

That’s so true. And it really clicked for me in that moment. After three weeks on the river, I was finally starting to see things from the water’s perspective.

Rivers, of course, are the original highways. The roaring traffic above on the Golden Gate reminded me of the San Joaquin in its early, healthy stretches.

But for most of us, traffic is far more familiar.

We’ve become a people disconnected from the water. We don’t know rivers. We don’t know where they start, where they’re going, when they’re full, why they’re dry. We don’t know enough to understand why — long after the Huck Finn era — they still shape our lives, they’re still worthy of our attention and unyielding respect

I hope this trip is part of a much broader effort to change that. To tilt our collective thinking toward a focus on water, and its great shepherds, the rivers.

I could go on for MANY more paragraphs about the journey — about the farmers, bird-lovers, migrant workers, fish biologists, dam operators, boat nuts and barefoot skiers I met along the way. I’ll do that at a later date as part of our Change the List project. For now, I wanted to say a heartfelt thank you to all of the readers who followed my voyage down the San Joaquin so diligently — and helpfully — on social media. Some of you sent me scientific reports about locations I was passing; others actually met me out on the river to share a piece of your story.

Two science teachers brought me a burrito beneath a bridge. One woman stood at the edge of her family farm for two hours waiting for me to pass. For all of that I am forever grateful. It’s incredible that you cared about this story so deeply. You were an essential part of it. You shaped my path.

So, I’ll say it again, since I don’t enough: Thank you.

You readers are awesome.

AND: I do have a favor to ask. I’d like to ask you to turn your gaze toward rivers, too. CNN iReport is inviting you to send in photos, videos or essays about your favorite rivers. It could be a river you saw on vacation or one in your backyard. Tell us a little bit about it and it may be featured as part of a list of “our favorite rivers.”

Here’s a page with instructions on how to do it.

I know which river I’ll pick. Certainly the San Joaquin.

Stay tuned for more reporting on America’s “most endangered” river in coming weeks, and thank you again for being such an integral part of this adventure.

LOST AND FOUND

Experience: I disappeared for 27 years

‘A bad trip was the catalyst for unexpected change.’ Photograph: Murdo MacLeod for the Guardian

It wasn’t my intention to walk out of my own life and vanish, especially when things were going so well. I was an ambitious 24-year-old folk singer and had just started work on my third album. The second had been a critical success and had really started to get me noticed.

A bad trip was the catalyst for unexpected change. I took LSD at a party, expecting the effects to be short-term, but ended up losing three or four days. I remember wandering across London, experiencing terrifying hallucinations, then being helped on to a plane with no clue where I was going. Touching down, I recognised Glasgow and my parents’ stern faces. They’d never approved of me becoming a singer; perhaps this is what they’d always expected.

The hallucinations continued for weeks. I remember lying in bed at my parents’ house, hearing the phone ring, but if any of the calls were for me, they were never passed on. My address book hadn’t made the journey with me, and I didn’t have the money to travel. My friends were all down south and though I desperately wanted to see them, I became completely cut off. Over 18 months I began to recover, though when I tried to sing, all that emerged was a strangled croak.

My life changed again when I met my partner during a chance visit to a local bookshop. I took one look at the owner, Gordon, and knew we were going to be together. My parents didn’t approve as he was older than me and not a company director. I knew I couldn’t win them over, so we decided to move away.

Our life together wasn’t easy. Gordon was an academic, but as the recession of the early 80s took hold, jobs became thin on the ground. We found it increasingly difficult to pay the rent and in the end decided to jack it all in and live in a tent. We planned to do it for only a few months but before long we were carrying everything we owned on our backs across Scotland, setting up camp in woodlands. Winters could be particularly punishing. Some days it got so cold, I genuinely thought we were going to die. We kept each other’s spirits up, and when you’re living hand to mouth, day to day, you exist in the moment. Over the years we moved between long stints in the tent and various flats and homeless shelters, claiming what benefits we could. Occasionally Gordon would manage to sell an academic essay or I would sell a drawing. I missed my old life, but it seemed forever out of reach. My relationship with my family had always been difficult and I taught myself not to dwell on our separation.

Then, one day, as I was making lunch over the camping stove, Gordon said, “There’s an interesting story in the paper here; you should read it.” What I saw stunned me – a photo of myself in my 20s, back when I was a folk singer. The article talked about how I had disappeared, that no one knew if I was alive or dead, and that my records had been rereleased more than 30 years after I’d made them. It felt like reading my own obituary. If a search had ever been made for me, I’d not been aware of it. I also found out that my parents had died; I’d tried to prepare myself for that possibility, but it was still a shock.

What astonished me, when I visited a library and was introduced to the internet, was the intrigue I’d left behind, even among people I’d never met. I found it bewildering that people still listened to my music and had spent time concocting theories about what had become of me: that I was writing children’s books under an assumed name, or had become a religious recluse.

By 2008, we’d moved into a flat, but Gordon had become ill. I began reconnecting with friends I hadn’t seen for decades. There was no anger, no recriminations; within minutes, I’d find myself talking to people as if I’d never been away. Having them back in my life was a tremendous comfort when I was nursing Gordon.

Before he died last year, Gordon encouraged me to return to my music. I’ve made a third record, 40 years after the second, and am performing again. I don’t feel as if I’ve wasted time. From my perspective, I was never really lost: I was just living a very different kind of life.

 

GUN CONTROL


This is a humorous look at guns. Not all true, not all false.

I am a shooter. I do not dislike guns. I do believe in regulations, safe gun handling. The discussion is like everything we see every day; each side is only speaking to itself. I believe that every gun owner should use a gun safe.I believe it is the single most important deterrent. That statement alone can produce controversy.

WHAT’S UP ON SATURDAY MORNING?

Bridge collapses in Kentucky after being rammed by hulking freighter carrying space rocket parts

By ASSOCIATED PRESS

Last updated at 7:15 PM on 27th January 2012

 

Incredible images emerged of a hulking freighter wearing mangled pieces of a steel bridge on its bow after a collision in southwestern Kentucky Thursday night.

In the pictures, the 312-foot Delta Mariner idles, still partially in the bridge’s path, and clearly looks much too large to fit beneath the aging Eggner Ferry Bridge, which crosses the Kentucky Lake Reservoir.

The cargo vessel was carrying space rocket parts for the United Launch Alliance, intended for a vehicle that was scheduled to be shot into orbit from Cape Canaveral Air Force Station in Florida.

Delta MarinerWreck: The cargo ship Delta Mariner slammed into the bridge spanning the Kentucky Lake in southwestern Kentucky Friday, causing the bridge to collapse

Delta MarinerNo injuries: Thankfully, no one was injured when the hulking freighter plowed into the aging steel bridge

Two sections of the bridge, which is the only route across the lake and the Tennessee River, collapsed after the crash.

Unbelievably no one was injured after the collision, though one driver described the harrowing experience of slamming on his breaks and stopping just a few feet short of oblivion after finding the bridge suddenly stopped.

 

 

Robert Parker, 51, of Cadiz, Kentucky, said he and his wife were traveling northbound on the highway after leaving his stepson’s house in Murray, Kentucky. They were driving in the rain along the darkened bridge around 8pm when they suddenly noticed a missing 20-foot piece of the bridge, which at that section stands at least 20 feet above the water.

‘All of a sudden I see the road’s gone and I hit the brakes,’ he said. ‘It got close.’

Mr Parker said he stopped his pickup within five feet of the missing section. Two cars behind him stopped on his bumper and he saw another car on the other side of the missing section stopped.

Ariel view Ariel view: From the sky, it’s apparent just how large the ship in compared to the bridge

Delta MarinerBackup: The Delta Mariner idles with parts of the bridge still on its bow after knocking out the US Highway 68/Kentucky Highway 80 route across Kentucky Lake

State officials are inspecting what’s left of the bridge.

Kentucky Transportation Cabinet spokesman Chuck Wolfe says inspectors began the in-depth review of the Eggner Ferry Bridge at US Highway 68 and Kentucky Highway 80 at daylight Friday.

‘At this point, we don’t believe there was any loss of life,’ said Keith Todd, spokesman for the Kentucky Transportation Cabinet.

He said there also were no injuries on board the boat. He was unable to say where the ship was traveling when it struck the bridge.

Officials said the collapse meant vehicles needing to cross the Kentucky Lake reservoir and the Tennessee River had to be detoured for dozens of miles. The Coast Guard blocked access to boat traffic at the bridge site.

Mr Parker said he didn’t feel the vessel strike the bridge but “felt the bridge was kind of weak.” They had to detour about 50 miles to return home to Cadiz.

Officials say about 2,800 vehicles travel daily on the bridge, which was due to be replaced.

Eggner Ferry Bridge Collapse Locator Vital route: For the 2,800 cars that travel it every day, the Eggner Ferry Bridge is the only route across the Land Between the Lakes in southwestern Kentucky for dozens of miles

Eggner Ferry BridgeRocket parts: The ship is carrying pieces of a space vehicle that were bound for a launch from Cape Canaveral, Florida

Read more: http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-2092796/Bridge-collapses-Kentucky-rammed-hulking-freighter-carrying-space-launch-equipment.html#ixzz1kjsv2F7s