Next time it rains, I have concocted a particularly difficult mission for myself. Unlike most of my schemes, which I dont get to talk freely about, this one is almost completely legal. Im going to travel upstream and discover where the otters are coming from. Whenever the weather is really bad, I throw on a swimsuit and go down to the appropriately named Nasty Branch creek. The creek surges up to ten feet higher than usual and becomes a rapids. Ive only broken a bone once ever in there. The rain makes the water cleaner than usual, and I like the feeling of natural water coursing around me. Theres a low-lying vine that I can hook myself in and hang suspended at the waters surface. It feels like flying. This past summer, I discovered that I am not alone. River otters havent been seen in this part of the world for thirty years. Development, pollution, and ecological fragmentation had driven them away. But, theyre back, at least tentatively. Theyve got some up at the Nature Center if you want to experience them in a controlled setting. Its almost impossible to encounter them if youre approaching by land. But, they happen to share my passion for the storm and this section of Nasty Branch. If you swim up to them, at home in the water, theyll take you for their own. Theyre a playful lot. They wrestle. They feebly fling clods of dirt at one another (or just fling it about; their aim with those stubby little arms is too poor to tell for sure). They stand straight up on low-hanging branches as if looking around for danger, and then they dive into the rapids, magically appearing a second later ten meters upstream. Theyre really cute, and I feel like some sort of druid for being able to share the gross creek where nobody ever goes with them. I only ever go downstream when I swim there. Its easier and less dangerous when the water is high, since I am not a very good swimmer (Im too dense). Its a half mile or so from the place I embark to the French Broad river. It starts out wooded, then moves through the new River Arts developments, then goes through a tunnel under the train yard before spitting you out into the river. That tunnel under the train yard is downright sinister. Its hard to breathe for all the diesel fumes. Its full of jagged cement and rusted, twisted metal. No matter how high the river is, it never rises above the rubble, and I have to crawl over its shifting surface at a snails pace. Its a long tunnel. It takes a long time to cross it safely. Thats the price I pay to get to play in my creek: Braving a veritable ecological disaster at the end. The otters come from and return upstream. Im not nearly a good enough swimmer to follow them. Im not really sure whats up there. Its unlikely that Nasty Branch connects to another major body of water without going through a labyrinth of drainage tunnels under streets. So, Im pretty sure theyre holed up somewhere in South Central Asheville. It occurred to me the other day that they might be trapped. That train yard tunnel is so hard for me to get through with all my primate climbing skills, and it is so very polluted. Theres no good way around it to get to the French Broad, either. The thought that my otter friends might be stuck in a small portion of the city makes me very sad. So, next heavy rain, Im going upstream. Ill try to reach the Swannanoa river if I can, just to make sure theyve got safe passage. I know the way cant be easy. Humans have a nasty habit of blocking up waterways. If nothing else, itll be nice to pay my friends a visit at their homes. Maybe Ill bring them some clams.
Posted on: Wed, 23 Oct 2013 15:21:52 +0000
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