Many years of work has left Blackwater Creek cleaner but not pristine

“People think I’m crazy when I tell them I’ve canoed Blackwater Creek,” Mason Basten says.

Basten, who runs the James River Float Co. in Madison Heights, will paddle down nearly any creek or river, just to see where the water leads.

His first trip down the vein that drains most of Lynchburg was in the mid-1990s. The creek had a reputation then as an open sewer.

It’s a reputation that still exists today, with signs posted along the shores warning park goers that water quality improvements are being made but never saying what’s in the water.

But Basten knows. He’s been there. And he’ll take people who have a large enough sense of adventure along for the ride. You’ll dodge trees and logs, concrete blocks and random dams. You’ll fight through bamboo and scare teenagers out for an afternoon of spring fun. You’ll get wet; you’ll get muddy.

But most of all, you’ll learn that Blackwater Creek no longer is an open sewer running through the heart of Lynchburg.

---

For decades, rainstorms would overwhelm Lynchburg’s combined sewer system, causing raw sewage to flow into waterways like Blackwater Creek.

Since 1994, the city has been under a federal order to close off the overflow points throughout the city. To date, 25 overflow points that end up in Blackwater Creek have been closed, though five remain. The city has spent more than $100 million on projects directly affecting Blackwater Creek, said Jeff Scarano, Lynchburg’s CSO program manager.

This fall, the city began efforts to better understand how much sewage actually overflows when it rains and how much rain it takes for the system to overflow. Preliminary results show that it takes at least a half-inch of rain before parts of the combined system will overflow, with almost half of that occurring at one discharge point on the James River, near Percival’s Island, Scarano said.

There’s no way to tell exactly how much sewage bubbles out because all data are based on models, but when the study is complete, Scarano said, that will change. As part of the effort, the city is taking numerous water samples to get a comprehensive look at how the sewer system and the city’s urbanized environment affect water quality.

The idea is to have a strong understanding of the issues in advance of anticipated new regulations on cleaning up the Chesapeake Bay.

Still, closing off the CSOs won’t fix all of Blackwater Creek’s water quality issues. “CSO is just one piece of the puzzle when it comes to an urban stream pollution,” Scarano said. “It will take a lot of the floatables out there and the nasty smells, but there are a lot of pollutants there.”

---

The best way to canoe Blackwater Creek is to start below the College Lake dam, where white water cascades down the dam and lush greenery fills in the background.

Like many urban streams, decaying plastic bottles and crumpled soda cans bleached gray are scattered in pockets along the banks. There is the occasional tire and broken plastic toy.

Still, the water is clear and the trees are coming into leaf. The sun is shining and the air is sweet with spring.

Almost immediately, the creek flows through neighborhoods. It seems strange to paddle through backyards, with lawn furniture sitting close to the banks. The houses seem so close, the creek so narrow.

Just around the bend, you have to duck under a sewer pipe and then shimmy under a log. Lee Williams, one of the James River Float Co. guides, brought a saw along to chop through the briers and bush, just to make the trip easier.

A city with a river through it, Williams says, is a city blessed. He paddles more than 1,000 miles per year, slipping away on a river of any size whenever he can.

Unless it has recently rained, Blackwater Creek is shallow and the bottom of the boat bumps and grinds its way, often getting stuck. So Basten gets out and shoves through the rapids when needed. Williams, with his single-man canoe, glides through as if there are no obstacles.

Over the years, portions of the creek were blocked to boats, either by low-water crossings or utility pipes. The only way to get around them is to get out of the canoe.

In other places, rapids were clogged with construction debris so there no longer is a natural navigational channel, Basten says. That’s easily fixed with a few volunteers moving rocks and blocks out of the way, he said.

Over the years, as the region has faced more construction, the creek bed has gone from mostly rock and gravel to mostly sand and silt.

But a winter of flooding rains has flushed out tons of orange sediment that had clogged the creek. Sections that were mostly filled in last summer were open and clear this spring.

That’s the nice thing about floods, Basten says. They clean out the rivers.

---

Kevin Ferrell first knew Blackwater Creek as a trashy ditch that people used as a garbage can. It was full of glass and smelled bad.

Despite that reputation, Ferrell learned about 20 years ago that there was still life in the water. As a boy, he celebrated Earth Day at Hollins Mill, where a scientist was shocking the water, catching whatever fish had been temporarily electrocuted.

They found an eel that day. The scientist said eels don’t live in dirty water. So despite the trashy reputation, Ferrell says, he didn’t think the water was as bad as everyone thought it was.

As teenagers in the 1990s, Basten and his friends would canoe the creek because they were allowed to make the run without mom and dad. They ignored the sewage and smell. They didn’t dare swim in it, but they did float it.

Fast forward 15 years, the creek is no longer trashy or smelly. Ferrell credits the trail system, where so many people are near the water and promoting the park. They keep it clean, he says. They take care of it.

Basten wants to take that promotion a step further. He wants the creek to be turned into a boating playground. He wants to bring volunteers in to clean out the logs and improve navigation.

Somewhere along the journey, voices can be heard on the other side of a stand of bamboo that has toppled over the creek. Basten thrashes the boat through, leaving the front passenger with skin stinging from the leaves and spats of mud in her hair.

There, on the other side, is a group of giggling teenagers in bathing suits, enjoying the hot spring break afternoon.

They say they’re not swimming; the water is too cold. But the fact that they’re there, Basten says, is a good sign. Maybe, they’ll take a canoe trip one day.

---

Hollins Mill still is a dividing line.

Upstream from the dam, the water is perfect, the air smells sweet and there is little fear of running into something unmentionable.

Downstream is another story.

One of the most visible overflow points in Lynchburg is along the trail. The scent of sewer gas is unmistakable; you must duck under the large pipe so not to be decked.

This is old Blackwater Creek, Basten says. This is how he remembered the whole stream.

There are other hazards too. The lowest section of the creek is the most urbanized, with the oldest and largest industrial impacts. There are strips of rusted steel and chunks of broken concrete. It’s sharp and dangerous. It’s Basten’s first time on that stretch — his first trip all the way from College Lake to the James River.

The smell dissipates as the group travels away from the overflow point, but it soon reappears farther downstream, where another overflow point discharges into the creek.

Soon, after tricky rapids and even trickier fallen trees, the creek flushes out into the James River.

Crazy? The only thing that’s crazy about Blackwater Creek, Basten says, is not canoeing it.