By Ira Shadis
In a speech she gave in May, 2023, the current Democratic presidential candidate, Kamala Harris, said, "My mother ... would give us a hard time sometimes, and she would say to us, 'I don’t know what’s wrong with you young people. You think you just fell out of a coconut tree?’ You exist in the context of all in which you live and what came before you." Her focus was the backdrop of families and communities essential to consider when building effective policies for advancing opportunities for Hispanic Americans, a reminder that we don’t live in silos. As I read this quote, I can’t help but think about what Vermont master naturalist’s Alicia Daniel shares in her “bedrock to bees” approach to understanding our landscape. Across the hillsides, in the layout of our villages, and in the shape and character of our waterways, we can see a history that stretches from the geologic timescales of mountain-building to the more recent impacts of European settlers on the landscape.
Roughly 150 million years ago, the mountains that now surround the Mad River took on a familiar form. Since then, these mountains have simultaneously shaped and been shaped by the flow of water throughout the basin. Erosion and deposition provide the background rhythm to the story of this place. Water and wind shrinking the peaks while sand, gravel, and clay filter towards the valley bottom. Sometimes the flow of water has been glacially slow. At other times, like we’ve seen this summer, the flow can be torrential. The steep valley walls and relatively poorly drained soils that cover much of the watershed lead to a “flashy” river and streams. The hydrograph from the July storm peaked at 14 feet, but the water returned to normal flow conditions in just around 24 hours.
In an article written in 2002, Lesley-Ann Dupigny-Giroux, the current Vermont climatologist explains that, “as far back as 1853, Zadock Thompson noted these topographic characteristics along the Winooski, Lamoille, and Missisquoi rivers, such that by default, roads could only be constructed along the open valley floors, making them susceptible to flooding damage. In the aftermath of the 1927 flood, Arthur F. Stone observed that, not only did the roadways, bridges, culverts, and other built features encroach on streams in these valleys, but the secondary growth and other vegetation that had replaced Vermont’s primeval forests following clear cutting were inadequate to promote the infiltration and percolation necessary to delay runoff. Today, over 70% of the state is now forested, but the encroachment of the built environment on streams and rivers still plays a crucial role in flooding episodes.”
We may not be poised to see glaciers return anytime soon, but the changing climate is likely to continue the story of erosion. The Vermont Climate Assessment notes that, “the most common recurring hazard event in Vermont is flooding. Damage is usually associated with the rise of river or lake levels and fluvial erosion, in which streambed and streambank erosion result in physical changes to the width and depth of the channel.” The assessment also draws from the 2018 Vermont State Hazard Mitigation Plan to highlight the fact that, “over 75% of monetary flooding damages are due to fluvial erosion…”
RESPONSE TO RESILIENCE
The damage from these storms is profound. My childhood home in Plainfield disappeared into the Winooski. I live in Montpelier, where every store downtown was gutted and rebuilt in the last year. The communities in which I work, from the severe washouts in Fayston, to the blown-out bridges in Duxbury, to the repeat flooding in Moretown Elementary School, are still coming to grips with the damages from this July. There is no one tool that will take us from short-term response and rebuild to a more resilient future. There are decisions we will make as individuals, as land managers, as neighbors, within municipalities, as business-owners, and as part of broader state, national, and global efforts to build a climate-resilient future.
Storms and flooding are impacting the Mad River Valley and we are all looking for the right response. Finding these tools requires that we ask questions. Which areas of the watershed are prone to flooding? Which are prone to erosion? Where are our buildings in harm’s way? Is our infrastructure and maintenance of it ready for bigger storms? What resources and learning have we already gathered to answer these questions? Many caring, thoughtful people in our community have poured their lives into answering these questions. We have River Corridor Plans, Stormwater Master Plans, LiDAR informed flood hazard maps, and other planning tools filled with valuable guidance.
NATURE BASED
What many of these resources have in common is a recognition that the most effective and affordable approaches are often those that work with nature, rather than against it. The VT Climate Assessment explains that, “as the climate changes and heavy precipitation increases, along with extreme events like Tropical Storm Irene, river corridor and flood plain protections are the least costly opportunity to avoid the loss of existing flood plain functions and heightened damages.”
In the 19th century, Vermont’s rivers and forests were managed to be economically productive with little attention paid to the environmental impact. The Mad River Valley forests were clear cut, large sections of the river were straightened and disconnected from their flood plains, and countless wetlands were drained. Natural recovery began in the early 20th century, but in the 70s and early 80s there was marked increase in gravel mining from rivers to accommodate increased road and development demand. The Vermont Department of Environmental Conservation notes that, “by 1985 and after a decade or more of extensive activity the agency and other resource users observed and became concerned about the high degree of instability being exhibited by virtually all river systems in which mining was being practiced…” and that, “we can try to make the river the way we ‘want’ it to be, static in the landscape, but if that condition conflicts with the naturally stable form the river will eventually dominate our efforts resulting in immense public expense, property loss and public safety hazards.”
We know where many of the historic flood plains along the main stem of the Mad River are located. We’ve mapped this area for the river corridor as well. Work can be done to better understand flood plain and erosion hazard areas along our tributaries – and we can do more to understand where and how to best protect and restore our wetlands. These natural resources can help move us and the river to a more resilient future. But they pose some difficult questions. Are we ready to get out of the river’s way through corridor easements, flood plain restorations, and property buyouts? If not in the river corridor, alongside wetlands, or in sponge-like upland forests, where do we build our homes and businesses? Answering these questions requires us to take seriously our responsibility as stewards of the environment and as good neighbors to one another. Each of us, in our corners of the watershed, has a part to play. I’m encouraged by the conversations going on around flood and community resilience and I look forward to working with this community to get there.
Ira Shadis lives in Montpelier and is the executive director of Friends of the Mad River.
