My South River

A "hidden" section of the South River, behind a commercial strip on Route 139 in Marshfield.

On December 1, 2011, thanks to major improvements in water quality, 313 acres of shellfish beds on the South River were opened for the first time in twenty years. Twenty years! This is definitely a cause for celebration . . . even for vegetarians like me, and for others with not a glimmer of interest in clams, whether steamed, chowdered, or fried. Barring a red tide, the beds will remain open until June.

I have to admit; I never thought I’d see the day . . .

I first began working with the North and South Rivers Watershed Association, (NSRWA) in 1990, while I was in college. During summers and school breaks, I would hang out in the Norwell office doing menial tasks – mostly data entry (on a Macintosh SE!) and stuffing envelopes. I enjoyed the work because the company was good and I was doing my small part to support the rivers that by then had become part of my sense of “home.”

Even though they embrace the town of Marshfield, where I grew up and presently reside, the North and South Rivers were largely unfamiliar to me until mid-adolescence. Kindergarten through second grade I went to South River Elementary, where a chain link fence divided the school playground from its namesake. To me, the river – overgrown and dark -- was an intrigue, but due to its inaccessibility, it remained simply that. The giant willow tree that stood on its banks at the far end of the playground was a magnet for us second graders. We played under it every day.

My fascination with our locals rivers began when I was 15, thanks to a guy named Ted. Many readers have heard this story before: how on our first date, he led me on a protracted slog through marsh grass that was taller than me. We dragged a small inflatable boat over muddy creeks (some of which I not-so-gracefully fell into), and eventually arrived at the North River, down which we floated in said boat, dipping a paddle into the water ever so often to steer our course. I hated him that day – him and his treacherous path to the river. And before long, I loved him, and I loved that river too. We and our friends spent a lot of time there those next few years – swimming, rope-swinging, canoeing, and “floating,” Ted’s term for our trips in the inflatable boat.

Like most teenage romances, the fire soon burned out, but the love for the rivers that Ted imparted to me only grew stronger. After college I returned to Marshfield and found jobs working on the rivers’ behalf -- first at the North River Commission, and then at the NSRWA. Part of my job was to oversee the annual River Watch Sampling program, for which I dashed around, at high tide, to ten sites, for eight weeks each summer, acquiring water samples, which I then rushed to the lab for testing. The goal: to ascertain whether the water was safe for swimming and shellfishing.

When this began, more than half of the test sites of the North River proved safe, except within three days of a rainstorm, when counts of fecal coliform spiked. The South River, on the other hand, was rarely clean. For years, because of those bacteria, the shellfish beds on both rivers had been closed.

To make a long story short, the NSRWA began an effort in the 1990s to restore water quality in the rivers. This involved finding the sources of pollution and – with the help of volunteers, citizens, town departments and government officials -- abating them. By 1996 the North River shellfish beds were reopened: a triumph!

The South River took a lot more time. The NSRWA’s South River Initiative, launched in 1996, identified the problems and laid out plans to resolve them. It seemed impossible at the time, but 11 years later, thanks in large part to Marshfield’s five-year sewer extension project, a rigorous sampling program, and the dedicated work of Harbormaster Mike DiMeo . . . success!

This past fall my son, Abel, enrolled in kindergarten at South River Elementary. A chain link fence still marks the playground boundary. Aside from some brush-clearing and the construction-in-progress of the South River Park on the other side, it’s still the same old river -- a little murky; definitely mysterious. But it’s not the same old river at all. Downstream, we can swim in it; we can harvest shellfish.

My first day volunteering with the NSRWA I noticed a quotation, posted on the office bulletin board. “Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed, citizens can change the world. Indeed, it is the only thing that ever has.” - Margaret Mead

It took 20 years to reopen the South River shellfish beds, one small step at a time. This indeed is how we change the world. You can bet I’ll be pointing out the South River to my son next time I’m at school with him. This is a story he – along with his classmates – needs to hear.

by Kezia Bacon-Bernstein, Correspondent
December 2011

Kezia Bacon-Bernstein's articles appear courtesy of the North and South Rivers Watershed Association, a local non-profit organization devoted to the preservation, restoration, maintenance and conservation of the North and South Rivers and their watershed. For membership information and a copy of their latest newsletter, contact NSRWA at (781) 659-8168 or visit www.nsrwa.org. To browse 15 years of Nature (Human and Otherwise) columns, visit http://keziabaconbernstein.blogspot.com

Trail Running on the South Shore

A trail at the Norris Reservation in Norwell.

I started jogging earlier this year. Approaching forty, I felt pathetic because I couldn’t run a mile. So I set off around the block, determined to make it all the way, and I was surprised to discover that I was in better shape than I expected. Since then, I’ve slowly been extending my route.

They say it runs in the family (Yes, it’s a pun). My father started jogging when he was in his late twenties, to combat the stress of supporting our family of four. For me, the sneakers went on when I realized my marriage was falling apart. All that time pounding the pavement afforded me some much-needed time to think, especially when the divorce negotiations got tense.

My dad, who progressed from running 10Ks, to marathons, to 50 and 100-mile ultra marathons and endurance events, knows a little bit about jogging. When I told him about my route around the neighborhood (I like the challenge of the hills), he said, “Take it from me. Your knees will last a lot longer if you stay off the road. Why don’t you run down the trail instead?”

We are fortunate to have a large conservation parcel right here in our neighborhood, one with a long flat trail (it used to be a railroad bed) plus a loop off to one side that traverses some challenging hills. Conveniently, Dad even knew the mileage. “It’s 0.9 miles from our driveway to the end of the trail, the same as running around the block.”

So on my next running day, I tried it. And – no surprise here – Dad was right. It WAS easier on my knees, and a lot more peaceful, ambiance-wise, than our busy subdivision. Plus it was fun: skirting puddles and fallen trees gave my run an adventuresome quality.

Jogging on trails is nothing new, and lately it is seeing an increase in popularity here on the South Shore. Like many fitness trends in the United States, trail running has migrated here from the west. It’s been big in California and the mountain states for years, and now East Coasters are catching on. The Western States 100, which my father attempted twice in the 1990s is a trail run through challenging mountain terrain.

Here on the South Shore, our options are a lot less diverse, although a jaunt to the Blue Hills will satisfy the needs of those seeking a rugged experience. Otherwise, there are plenty of conservation areas with trails well-suited for a run, as opposed to a walk. Before you go, just make sure that the property doesn’t prohibit joggers (if it’s a dedicated wildlife sanctuary, running may be discouraged because of its potential to disturb the fauna).

The Norris Reservation in Norwell has been popular with joggers for years, as has Bay Farm on the Kingston-Duxbury line. Both include sections of trail that are wide and mostly flat, as well as narrower, trickier areas. Burrage Pond in Hanson, a huge expanse of former cranberry bogs now managed by the state’s Division of Fisheries and Wildlife, offers a number of flat, clear trails well-suited for the sneaker set. On a recent Sunday morning visit I encountered a number of runners there.

If you’d like to try trail running, I recommend starting on a property with wide flat trails (think decommissioned railroad beds, or old fire roads and cart paths). Once your feet get used to moving quickly on uneven terrain, you might progress to a more challenging route.

Earlier this fall, the Duxbury-based Wildlands Trust of Southeastern Massachusetts initiated a low-impact trail running program. Every week they host an event at one of the lands they manage, where walkers and runners of all ages and abilities can gather to exercise together. The next few are as follows:

Thursday, December 1, 9:30 AM – Willow Brook Preserve, Pembroke

Wednesday, December 7, 9:30 AM – Tucker Preserve, Pembroke

Sunday, December 18, 10 AM – Emery Preserve, Plymouth.

You can find more information on their website, www.wildlandstrust.org.

by Kezia Bacon-Bernstein, Correspondent
November, 2011

Kezia Bacon-Bernstein's articles appear courtesy of the North and South Rivers Watershed Association, a local non-profit organization devoted to the preservation, restoration, maintenance and conservation of the North and South Rivers and their watershed. For membership information and a copy of their latest newsletter, contact NSRWA at (781) 659-8168 or visit www.nsrwa.org. To browse 15 years of Nature (Human and Otherwise) columns, visit http://keziabaconbernstein.blogspot.com