A typical day
A Day in the Life of Maya van Rossum, Delaware Riverkeeper
Maya van Rossum, Delaware Riverkeeper

By 9 A.M. I’ve checked in at the office, picked up my maps, a digital camera and Fred Stine, one of my Citizen Action Coordinators, and headed out to the site of an illegally filled wetlands. I’m thinking about my testimony this evening against legalized fish kills taking place in Delaware Bay at the hands of our power company, PSE&G, but I have to concentrate now on the photos I need for evidence in our court case next week to secure the restoration of 14 acres of formerly beatiful and productive wetlands.

I drop Fred off downstream and drive up to where a little creek drains off a trucking site. The creek is heavily damaged from illegal dumping of dirt and rubble. Fred and I will confirm, absolutely, where this little creek leads on its way to the Delaware River. Fred is following the stream from the lower stretch down towards the Delaware. I slog through the woods just downstream from where the creek drains off private property, a truck stop and repair shop owned by John Pozsgai. I enter the creek and start following it downstream, carefully photographing the bright orange material covering its bottom and the tires that have washed downstream from the Pozsgai site. I can sense the unhappiness of this stream; it has been abused for over a decade. I hit a highway culvert. It’s too small to climb through so I drop an orange and watch as it floats downstream towards Fred who’s awaiting its arrival to confirm the stream’s flow.

I drive by the Pozsgai truck stop, step out onto the road and start taking my photos – important evidence for the case that will be heard next week in federal court. As I’m clicking away, an old black car pulls quickly in front of me and stops. A short, stocky older man jumps out and starts screaming at me to leave him alone and to stop taking pictures. Used to verbal attacks, and even some physical ones, I stand my ground and continue taking photos. He grabs my arm with one hand and pulls back his other in an effort to slap my face. I manage to pull away, avoiding his grasp as he tries to pull me back by my hair. I run around my car to evade him.

He starts yelling at me over the roof of my car. “This is my property, I can do with it what I want, you can’t stop me, leave me alone, I know your type, you're out to get me, you have no rights here ….” He goes on.

“You have no right to fill the wetlands,” I respond. “They belong to the River and to the community, not just to you.” He threatens to call the police. “Please do, you have assaulted me on public property and they need to be here. Please, please call them.” Of course, he doesn’t. After chasing me around the car a few times he gives up, gets back in his car and drives off.

I climb into my car, shaken, but with my camera in hand. I’m ready for court. I can now prove, indisputably, the damage this man has done to the river and the neighborhood as a result of his illegal dumping. Once, this wetlands was the beautiful entrance to the community, home to birds, turtles and a variety of wildlife. Now, it’s a desolate wasteland, littered with construction debris and old trucks and equipment. Once a natural sponge holding back storm water, the community next door has paid the price with flooding that had to be remedied at community expense.

Back at the office, it’s time to work on my testimony for the evening’s public hearing. PSE&G’s Salem Nuclear Generating Station kills more than three billion fish every year. Tonight the state will consider a permit that will allow the fish kills to continue unchecked. Tonight the voice of the River and the community needs to be heard to stop it. We’ve waged this battle before; last time we lost, this time we must succeed. I pour over the scientific studies we’ve collected and commissioned, finalizing my written testimony and considering carefully the words I will use to try to stop these massive fish kills. PSE&G’s Salem plant is the single largest predator in Delaware Bay. It’s allowed to kill indiscriminately on a daily basis.

The phone rings constantly throughout the day with questions, concerns and calls for help. Every member of the 13 person Delaware Riverkeeper Network staff chips in to field the calls – giving insights, information, offers for help and guidance. Each call is urgent in its own way. Each one from a concerned citizen requesting assistance of the Delaware Riverkeeper to protect a local stream or wetland. Unfortunately many of the calls are similar – a new development proposed, wetlands filled, streams destroyed, fish being killed or a dam being proposed.

Another call comes in – it’s a reporter who needs to get out on the River. For nearly a decade and a half we have been fighting a proposal by the Army Corps to deepen the Delaware River – a project that will cause tremendous environmental damage and threaten drinking water supplies. She’s working on a story about the project and needs to get out on the River to photograph areas that will be damaged – can I take her? “Absolutely – I need an hour to finish up what I’m doing and then we’ll meet at the dock and head out.” I’m just about to run out the door when the phone rings again – it is an informant inside one of the agencies telling me about a project that has just been permitted and needs to be stopped. I quickly gather all the information I need to request access to the project’s files, a challenge that will have to be mounted tomorrow.

With my passengers on board I steer my boat onto the Delaware. The beauty of this River even in this very urbanized section is striking. Along old piers nature has struggled, successfully, to come back – breaking up wood and concrete and replacing it with trees and shrubs creating favored fishing and swimming haunts. The reporter’s appreciation and surprise at the beauty of the River is obvious – seeing it from the water makes all the difference in the world. This River is a living, breathing ecosystem.

We come upon the dredge spoil disposal site – piles of river bottom sediments stored on land, covering over prime habitat and wetlands with sediments laden with PCBs and other dangerous toxins. She snaps her photos. We talk about the Army Corps plans, about the damage and destruction it will cause, and about the false economic promises being used to justify this pork barrel project. The story will run in tomorrow’s paper.

We dock the boat and I head directly to the public hearing. I meet up with other activists and concerned citizens to strategize over the coming evening’s event – and to lament the reality of what this fight is all about, billions of fish killed needlessly.

The hearing begins with a dog and pony show by the agency, trying to convince us that the permit they want to issue is really alright. When my name is called I go to the podium to testify. It’s a struggle to contain my anger and let my points make the case. However, it’s also imperative that these industry representatives and government regulators understand my passion and commitment to protecting the River. My love for the River is more powerful than their cold and overly scripted words and PowerPoint presentations. This River belongs to the public, not to them. They need to see and hear that. They’re intimidating, but I’m right to fight for the fish and the River. Part of the crowd cheers, others boo – I feel good about standing up for my River and what is right.

As I drive home to my daughter, who is being cared for by my mother tonight, I think about my day, all that was accomplished, and all that was not, and I look forward to tomorrow and being the Delaware Riverkeeper – the voice for the Delaware River.