We have had over 100 years to learn from our mistakes when the hallowed streams fished by Gordon were almost destroyed by men bent on plundering the Earth’s natural resources...Unfortunately, you don’t have to look far to find the evidence for a similar disaster in the making on one of our own hallowed trout streams.        

     If you drove by any of New Jersey’s streams yesterday you may have noticed gaggles of anglers congregating along the riverbanks. Trout season opened on Saturday and, as always here in our state where the fishing is mostly “put-and-take,” everyone and his grandmother was decked out in neoprene, standing elbow to elbow in the water, trying to catch a trout by any of several methods including salmon eggs, worms, spinners, baitfish and artificial flies.

     In most years, Opening Day is more of a ritual than an opportunity to actually enjoy fishing. It’s usually still pretty chilly, falling shortly after spring’s arrival. But nonetheless, it offers an opportunity to get out of the house, where we’ve been held captive by the elements for the last four months and subjected to shorter hours of daylight.

            By May, the crush has subsided. The weather has also warmed and the trees are starting to leaf out and are filled with warblers, Baltimore Orioles and other songbirds. It is during this period that the purists emerge: Those anglers, who believe the best and the only method of catching the trout is with the artificial fly.

            Fly fishing has its roots in England where two men; Frederick M. Halford and G.E.M Skues developed angling techniques using the artificial fly. Trout flies can be separated into two general groups; those that float on the surface of the water are called dry flies; imitations that are designed to sink are called wet flies. Halford was a dry fly snob. Skues concentrated on imitations fished below the surface.           

 Fly fishing made the jump over the big puddle to America during the late 19^th century to the rivers of the Catskill Mountains. It was there that the man credited with its American genesis lived in a small farmhouse for the last ten years of his life.

 Theodore Gordon is the acknowledged father of American fly-fishing. Born into wealth in 1854, he spent the better part of his life following two pursuits; a failed business career selling securities for which no one remembers him and refining the techniques for fishing for trout with the artificial fly. It is the latter that has become practically synonymous with his name. The Quill Gordon is a very effective trout fly he developed to imitate the adult stage of the mayfly Epeorus pleuralis, found throughout the trout streams of the Northeast.

            Gordon was something of a recluse. He moved from the big city to escape the cacophony of modern life to a small cabin on the Neversink River where he lived until succumbing to tuberculosis. Despite his appearance on the scene of American angling during what are considered the halcyon days of fly fishing, the rivers of the Catskills were just recovering from the brink of destruction.

            Prior to the Civil War, the Catskills were covered with old growth forests consisting predominately of hemlocks. These evergreens kept the mountains cool during the summer and their roots held the soil in place.            

   But suddenly, America was at war with itself. The demand for leather goods, boots in particular, for the armies of the North and South rose dramatically. Hemlock bark is a rich source of tannin, used in the production of leather. Vast stands of these majestic trees were clear cut and stripped of their bark. With the shade gone and nothing to hold back the soil, the rivers of the Catskills warmed and became silted. The native brook trout, a species sensitive to changes in the environment, was driven to extinction in all but the tiniest brooks and creeks at the highest elevations. Populations have never fully recovered to this day.

            As the rivers of the Catskills slowly recovered, the brown trout, a less sensitive species, was imported from Europe and introduced in America. At first this met with some resistance. But the brown trout could survive in warmer water and proved to be just as challenging a game fish as the native brook trout.

            Throughout the 20^th century, fly fishing techniques were further refined giving rise to a new breed of angler-environmentalists. A full creel of dead trout no longer was the measure of a successful day spent on the stream. The focus shifted to learning about the trout’s habitat, the aquatic insects upon which they fed and developing an acute sensitivity to any environmental threat that could affect adversely the water quality of the rivers and streams in which the trout lived. “Catch and release” was practiced on many streams, insuring that there would be enough trout for others to enjoy. 

            I’d like to believe that such a holistic approach to angling would be sufficient to kindle an environmental awareness of the importance of our water resources. We have had over 100 years to learn from our mistakes when the hallowed streams fished by Gordon were almost destroyed by men bent on plundering the Earth’s natural resources.

            The assumption is admittedly naïve. You don’t have to look far to find the evidence for a similar disaster in the making on one of our own hallowed trout streams.            

   The Pequannock River is a lovely trout stream flowing along the border of Passaic and Morris Counties.  In addition to receiving regular stockings of rainbow and brook trout, the river nurtures a population of wild brown trout. The lower portion is a miracle of sorts, tumbling over algae-slicked rocks as it flows past dumpsters and strip malls through the suburban hamlets of Bloomingdale, Butler and Riverdale. 

            But the bigger problem for the Pequannock and its population of wild brown trout is not cosmetic. There’s a battle raging over the quality of the water itself. 

            Ross Kushner is the Executive Director of the Pequannock River Coalition. Over the past 10 years, his organization has become concerned about elevated water temperatures in the river which caused a substantial fish kill in 1994 and a less-severe kill in 2002. The organization initiated a temperature monitoring program in 1994 to determine the sources and extent of these problems. Based on the data, several portions of the Pequannock River and several Pequannock River tributaries were listed as “impaired” for temperature in 2002 and 2004 by the New Jersey Department of Environmental Protection. Additional study by the NJDEP confirmed that lack of sufficient river flow resulting from insufficient water releases from Newark-owned reservoirs is the cause of almost 80 percent of the river’s temperature problems.

            In August, 2004 the NJDEP issued new permit requirements for the City of Newark in its diversion permit for the Pequannock River, including requirements for minimum river flows, both between the City’s reservoirs and below their reservoir system which feeds the lower river.

            “These permit conditions were immediately challenged by the City of Newark,” Kushner says. “Negotiations between the NJDEP and the City have dragged on ever since. It has now been more than 18 months since this modified permit was released, with no improvement in river flows and no enforcement of the new permit conditions.”

During the summer of 2005, the Pequannock River virtually disappeared in some places due to a complete lack of water releases from Newark-owned reservoirs. “Zero flow rate[s] w[ere] seen on the lower Pequannock without a declared drought,” Kushner said. “Also, temperatures recorded in the lower Pequannock last summer were higher than any we have measured in the past, topping out at nearly 80 degrees.” Kushner recently heard that the City of Newark is requesting DEP authorization of a multi-year study in the Charlottesburg Reservoir before any decision is reached on the permit conditions. “We see this study only as an excuse for a long delay,” he said.

            In January, the PRC contacted Lisa Jackson, the new DEP Commissioner, for an opportunity to discuss this issue. “We haven’t heard back from her yet,” Kushner said. “It will be interesting to see where she stands.”

            The native brook trout of the Catskills were almost driven to extinction during the 1800s by the tan lords. Will the wild brown trout of the Pequannock suffer a similar fate at the hands of the water lords in the City of Newark?

            It’s spring now. The weather is cool and there’s plenty of water. But summer is coming. Kushner sounds a defiant note: “We insist that the time for action has come. I’m certain we will win in the end. The question is, will the DEP come through on their own, or do we need to haul them into court for failing to meet their obligations?” n

Gregory J. Rummo is a syndicated columnist.