Chapter IV: A Good Place to Be (2)

Suppose a local planning or zoning board is taking action to determine whether or not a big corporation from elsewhere can buy and subdivide some flood-plain land belonging to a well-liked fellow townsman, a hardware dealer whom all of them have known from childhood and with whom they will be doing business the rest of their lives. Despite the inappropriateness of the land for human occupation and the mess that is going to be established along their pretty river, is it to be reasonably expected that a voting majority of them are going to decree that a friend be deprived of a half-million dollars' profit? The dilemma is a serious one, perhaps the weakest point in the land-use control at this local level, and it may mean that higher levels of government will have to take over some of the responsibility and get local governments off the hook.

Industry in the landscape

Another matter about which small communities can seldom feel impartial is the prospect of attracting industry. With the growth of the great cities here and there, perhaps a majority of small towns are faced now with flagging agricultural prosperity, a lack of jobs, and the resultant departure--often reluctant--of most of their energetic young people for the new centers of action. The mere rumor that an industry is considering setting up a plant in such a place is likely to set off shock waves of delight and establish a general mood in which almost any concession will be offered to tempt the corporation--to the point that authorities, in some places, have issued bonds and built the requisite factory themselves.

In a good many cases, this particular cure for the community's ills has proved to be worse than the sickness, leading to total community dependence on a fallible and perhaps capricious enterprise, pollution of air and water, noise and flood-plain clutter, and frequently the destruction of the local riverside where industries tend to locate unless directed elsewhere. Little of this is necessary now, as a number of examples of responsible industry in the Basin demonstrate. But it continues, and will continue as long as communities keep looking on industry as a source of payrolls only, free of sin: "It smells like money," some residents of one Shenandoah town say of their factory's miasmal odor, though other natives phrase their description differently....

The full legacy of an older time when industry neither knew how to avoid pollution and other troubles nor saw any reason to try, and no community leaders saw any reason to bring the subject up, is found in prime fettle along the North Branch, whose pollution is a sympathetic reflection of the general state of that region's environment. Though certain industries there--most notably the huge but aging pulp and paper mill at Luke, Maryland--have managed at considerable expense to cut down on the wastes they discharge to the river, the prevalent philosophy elsewhere in the neighborhood would seem to be that both land and water are already so afflicted that no single community's or industrial plant's attempt at betterment could do much good.

This impression is illusory; people along the North Branch, as elsewhere, are aware of what has been lost. But restoration is going to be hard. In some of the deep valleys layered, stinging smog prevails through most of the year. Most of the waters are acid from far up toward their source, as we have seen, and downriver this acid is enriched with other things, a situation that has existed for so long that hardly anyone recalls when the streams were much different. Most of the villages along them have a gray and weary look, with a good deal of unemployment among the hardy people, and empty stores and houses that remember a less ramshackles time when the area's coal mines needed many workers and the air was alive with action, including old-fashioned vigorous labor strife.

High up above the towns and the dark streams, the strip-mine bulldozers and power shovels that have replaced most of the workers chew away at the green flanks of mountains named for Indian chiefs and pioneers and things that happened long ago. Where they have scraped out all they economically can and have moved on, huge gray scars and spoil heaps remain behind and ooze more acid to the streams below, as do hundreds of the old deep mines. It is a pitted and hard-used landscape, where occasional more or less ordinary farming valleys, and mountains and streams that have escaped change, stand out as strikingly beautiful in contrast.

Concentratedly typical of this landscape in general, perhaps, is the Georges Creek valley, a hundred square miles of drainage extending between two long scarred ridges from the neighborhood of Frostburg down to Westernport. Here coal has a venerable and even romantic history, for it has been mined in the valley since 1808, and the laid-out Scottish orderliness of depopulated old "Company towns"--Lonaconing is said to have been the first such in the nation--clashes with the grimy reality of what has happened in modern times.

This natal section of the river system cannot be walled away from the rest of the Basin, written off to coal and industry, and disregarded. It is integral with the rest; its troubles are Basin troubles. And if the ingrained landscape sickness compounded there by the old consumptive way of doing things, blight begetting blight, cannot be healed, scant hope glimmers through of healing the same sickness in other parts of the nation where it is even worse.

Other Basin landscape problems

New roads and highways, regardless of what traffic they carry and where they carry it, are too often planned and constructed as gashes of destruction across the landscape and across the "scenery of association," and frequently fertilize subsidiary ugliness in the form of billboards and commercial clutter. Attempts to mitigate the worst aspects of this have had some effect, but have not been widespread or strong enough to keep up with the growing numbers of cars and the growing demand for facilities on which to operate them.

Much could be done at the local level to erase roadside ugliness--Loudoun County, Virginia, is again a shining and rare example of a place where the right thing has been done. But more of the trouble comes from higher up, for it involves the routing and design of the super-roads, and stubborn considerations of strict engineering efficiency have usually tended to prevail over esthetics and such things, despite growing objections. Regardless of their beauty as roads, the sheer quantity of strip concrete Americans require nowadays is a basic problem. It has been said that an extraplanetary observer at first glance might well conclude that this continent was populated primarily by large four-wheeled bugs with detachable brains. Certainly in many places nowadays the earth is beginning to look as if it were arranged for the bugs rather than for the brains, if that is what we humans are.

When the bugs die they go to junkyards. These many-colored necropolises occupy wide acres of land near every center of population in the region, occurring quite commonly along the main entrance highways to neat and historic towns. Their stark and extensive ugliness has made them the subject of much high-level investigation, most of which has sought to make their conversion into usable scrap metal a profitable process. Undoubtedly this will be achieved sooner or later, but in the meantime the old cars, together with a wealth of other discarded items in roadside fields and along fencelines and stream channels throughout the Basin, form a scabby legacy from the recent past, and a less esthetic "scenery of association."

Major electric powerlines and other utilities routed arrogantly with only straight-line distances in mind, up hill and down dale and with their cleared rights-of-way kept brownly dead with herbicides, can intrude starkly on the beauty and mood of historic or pleasantly natural landscapes. In the name of public service, private utility companies in all the Basin States have wide powers of condemnation as emerged to view recently when the Potomac Edison Company proposed to hack out a strip for a new line along a route that included country associated with the campaigning around Antietam Battlefield in the Civil War, without an adequate attempt to find alternative routes.

In this instance, public protest shaped up a fight against the line, in which the Interior Department has become involved because of the Federally owned battlefield and the nearby C. & O. Canal. But often elsewhere, the great skeletal towers linked by thick transmission cables march where they please, indifferent to local objections. What is certain is that modern America needs the electricity transported thus, and the gases and liquids that run through great pipelines. Hope for the long run is offered by research that may open the possibility of putting high-voltage transmission lines underground, but in the meantime what is needed is an awareness on the part of utilities planners that scenic and historic values have to be given full weight in their computations.

The kind of agriculture that has so much to do with the Basin's scenic appeal is not entirely healthy these days. We have mentioned the difficulty created near Washington--and around other Basin centers of population and in many places where vacation colonies are burgeoning--by skyrocketing speculation and a general absence of strongly based and well-defended plans of preservation. As the development value of land rises in such places, local systems of taxation based on that value rather than on actual use may drive farmers out of business whether they want to stay in or not. Since 1945 in Fairfax County, Virginia, for instance, the number of commercial farms has dropped from 1788 to about 200, and it is still going down.

Even where the tax trouble has been recognized, as in Maryland, and taxation adjusted to reality for people who want to go on farming, few tillers of the soil are devoted enough to their acres to hold onto them in the face of the kind of cash that is often dangled before their eyes, for the flat and fertile tracts that make the best farms are also the easiest to subdivide and build on in standard fashion. For that matter, the usual form of tax relief on agricultural land can be used as a tax loophole by speculators. Thus, whenever tract values rise and development impends, good productive land, which the country may well miss later as populations grow and food supplies for them thin out, goes permanently under pavements and construction. Even though it is just in such places that protected, scenic, connotative rural landscapes might have the most meaning for the most people in the long run, their preservation presents some tough questions. Patterns of growth that would spare them could easily be worked out and would fit in well with watershed protection and open space needs, but the economics of compensating farm owners for the loss of the big money they might have received for them is another thing.

In some other parts of the Basin, the implications of a modern unified economy are a threat to traditional farms and farming methods. Labor costs, the need for expensive machinery, superior methods of storage of foodstuffs and easy transport over long distances have put Potomac farmers into competition with other regions, even other countries, where the same products they supply can be raised on an industrial scale of investment and profit. Thus the worth of a field of tomatoes in the Northern Neck of Virginia is affected by massive irrigated production in the Central Valley of California, and thus a Shenandoah farmer may barely break even or suffer a loss on a rather good crop of wheat in the old "bread basket of the Confederacy."

Such influences, even though dulled a bit by protective State and Federal farm programs, are putting a premium on specialization, ever larger farms, and an "agribusiness" approach, with high capital and operating expenses. Their effect on many family farms in the Basin's mountain regions, places with limited acreage of marginally productive land, is severe. These may have supported the clans that own them reasonably well for a century or more, but they cannot compete with Ohio. Unless their owners are willing to keep on farming while holding down a job in town for supplementary cash, they often move away and the places go out of cultivation. Some are consolidated into grazing or forestry units or bigger farms, some stand abandoned, some go on the market as vacation retreats and "hobby farms" for wide-ranging metropolitans.

Richer regions share the troubles. In the classic valley of the Monocacy, some of whose dairy farmers have to import feed now from the Midwest because they cannot raise it cheaply enough themselves, the size of the optimum farm, one that can compete effectively in today's market, has swelled in the past few years from about 150 acres to about 600, according to a study by the State of Maryland. The problem is compounded by rising land prices influenced not by productive value but by the presence of Megalopolis just over toward the Bay. Sprawl throws a long shadow.

Eyeing this array of difficulties, many farmers' sons are prone to seek another livelihood, and the average age of the men who do the farming grows higher all the time. Tiring, many sell out, and thus the family farms that make up the greater part of the Potomac's much-loved rural landscape dwindle in number and change in use. It is not necessary to be mawkish to see this as a loss. In part it is inevitable, but in part too it may be rooted in policies that can be altered and adjusted to keep the farms productive.

Wildlife, along the Potomac as elsewhere, is dependent on whatever habitat it occupies--that is to say on the state of the landscape. If the rivers are cleaned up and kept flowing even during times of drought and heavy use of water, they will support better populations of fish and a greater variety of species. If the subtle interrelationships and the immense value of the estuary's varied nooks and crannies are recognized, studied out to full understanding, and protected--and in time--not only fish and shellfish but ducks and eagles and herons and all the other wild users of the shores and wetlands will benefit. Government refuges and other devices are badly needed for these purposes in that region, now that it is no longer remote and the kind of protection many private owners have traditionally furnished wildlife is diminishing.

Upland populations of deer, turkey, grouse, quail, raccoon, fox, and other sporting and non-sporting species thrive in parts of the Basin suited to their habits and still in good condition, and shrink elsewhere. Many stretches of private forest land could support much higher densities of game and other wildlife, if they were put in better shape by practices that are available and feasible. Of the more than three million acres of such land scattered throughout the Basin in small holdings, much is in poor condition. It is therefore but spottily productive of game or timber or anything else, and often causes high runoff and erosion in critical watersheds.

Recreation

Many of the things we have called amenities here are subject to full-fledged economic uses necessary to the region's wellbeing and not usually in great conflict with scenic and ecological values if they are carried out right. Farming and commercial fishing and logging used to be generally exploitative and hard on the natural scheme of things in this country, for instance, but they no longer need to be and in most cases are not. Using the Potomac's water for towns and factories and power and navigation entails some interference with natural processes, but it does not have to be widely destructive of them. Discharge of treated wastes to streams is still necessary to a degree, and up to that degree not badly harmful, though as we have seen, it is far too often excessive.

Urban expansion is necessary also with present population pressures. It is an irreversible exploitation of the landscape, but if the type of land-use principles mentioned in this chapter were to get wider employment, urbanization would quite certainly not have to be as destructive of natural and human values as its present usual form is. The same thing is true of industry in its many manifestations, including mining, and of the woven network of roads and utilities. The public needs them, and the people responsible for them need to be aware of the great value of the natural framework within which all men must exist.

Average people's direct use of the natural world is most often of the kind summed up as "outdoor recreation," an umbrella phrase under which are lumped a diversity of satisfactions found by widely differing persons in many types of more or less natural places. Muscular hunters and elderly birdwatchers, water-skiers and bank-fishermen, Sunday drivers on crowded highways and lean backpackers on dim trails in the South Branch highlands, baseball players and people who take naps on the grass beside the C. & O. Canal, amateur archaeologists and stock-car racing fans--all these and many other kinds of folk depend somehow on the Potomac outdoors for their pleasure. They use it.

How much they use it and how much pleasure they get out of it are governed by the time on their hands, the availability of their chosen recreation, and whether it is good of its kind. A would-be hunter who cannot escape from the District of Columbia is out of luck unless his mobility improves. An Alexandria water-skier can divert himself on the metropolitan estuary during the summer months, but under ordinary conditions at present it is something less than what is known as a "quality experience," as is fishing there or any other water sport. A West Virginian has to have some time to spare if he wants to enjoy beaches and ocean breezes; so do Tidewater residents with a penchant for mountain trout fishing.

Nevertheless the Basin holds a great deal for almost all tastes, and most of what it holds is of excellent quality. The main recreational needs are fairly clear: to protect and restore the Potomac outdoors from the deterioration noted in this and earlier chapters, to spread the chance at different kinds of pleasure around as much as possible, to guard against clashes between different kinds of use and against the destruction of the quality of quiet and natural places that occurs when too many people are jammed together in them, to make the Basin's pleasant corners and shores and byways easier to get at, and--not least important--to encourage uses that contribute to appreciation and preservation, helping to make sure that in the long run outdoor recreation in this region will be possible.

People's need for outdoor activity in their spare time varies a good deal. An oysterman-crabber working out of the Yeocomico through the progression of seasons and weathers, a Shenandoah plowman turning earth his great-great-grandfather turned at the foot of the blue-green mountains, a timber cruiser in the high forests--such individuals are not as likely to need to go looking for added outdoor satisfactions as most other kinds of people, for whom ordinary life tends to be more separate from pleasure in the open air. Maybe if the cities can be brought back to health and their growth shaped to fit in better with human needs, this will change. But with more and more people coming on, more and more leisurely and affluent as technology cuts down on work, more and more urban, outdoor recreation as a specific goal is going to be an ever more important consideration in planning. It is already important--and already, as we are reminded with statistics, big business.

City recreational needs

Recreation in and around the central city of Washington has to be a primary aim. The most people are in this area, many of them through poverty or habits of life not given to farflung pleasures but constrained to seek them where they live, or near at hand. The worst environmental threats are here as well, despite the foresight and pride that have saved much more open space and pleasant park land than most other American cities can show.

The metropolitan river has to be cleaned up and made attractive. It used to be the city's most supremely valuable amenity and potentially it still is. Measures within reach can realize much of the potential inside of a reasonably short time, so that productive and varied fishing and good boating and a beautiful wide body of water will be within strolling distance for people in the central parts of the metropolis on both sides of the Potomac, and the recreational value of the lands already preserved along its shores will be incalculably multiplied. Safe swimming and other water contact sports in the open metropolitan estuary, often mentioned as an aiming point for clean-up programs, may be a somewhat more distant future prospect. Our studies in the past three years have made it clear that pollution here is more complex and diffuse in origins than had ever been supposed, and that sources of dangerous bacteria are probably going to continue to exist for a good while despite all efforts against them. The goal of swimming is a worthy one and will probably be reached, but not quickly. In the meantime, more public pools in the City and easy transportation to public areas farther down the estuary may be required.

Some recreation areas within the city, like Rock Creek Park, presently get too much use for their own good and for people's full pleasure in them because they are superior to anything else accessible to many of the city's people. This is a local manifestation of a national problem, for even sections of the great national parks, like the one at Yosemite, are presently being battered by overuse by a generation of city-dwellers anxious to come in touch with natural and basic things. In such places, people's very numbers shut them off from those basic things and coarsen the quality of their experience. The only really satisfactory answer will be to put additional, equally attractive places within reach of the same people. In Washington this means developing other pleasant areas within the city and making it easier for the city's people to get to the other parks and natural places farther out. Improvement of the river, development of extensive new parklands along the Anacostia including the Kenilworth Dump site, more neighborhood playgrounds and swimming pools, and other such action will all help to relieve the situation, which is getting much official attention and is a specific subject in the report recently published by the Potomac Planning Task Force, the group formed under auspices of the American Institute of Architects.

The array of Federal, State, regional and county parks and other public areas ringing the metropolis will be more accessible as public transit improves. Another means to this end, and an especially organic and appropriate one, will be the urban stretches of the Basinwide network of hiking, bicycling, and horseback trails which will be discussed a little farther along.

If, as prophets reiterate, ever-increasing percentages of the American public in the future will be living in the great cities, a great deal of nature and conservation education is going to be needed if the mass of people are not to lose all understanding of natural things and all sympathy with their working and their preservation. It cannot be entirely a classroom sort of thing, no matter how many films and preserved or caged wildlife specimens may be provided. There is need now, and there will be more need hereafter, for rich nature preserves and study centers within reach of Washington and specifically dedicated to such use.

In general, suburbanites have more freedom of choice regarding the places they play in and the ways in which they play there than do people at the urban center. Many of them live fairly close to outlying parks and open areas, and if good planning gains in strength and effectiveness as the metropolis spreads, this neighborhood availability of outdoor pleasures will increase, with more Rock Creeks and Pohick Creeks to put stream-valley parks and pleasant small lakes and streams and such things within reach of everyone, and more green open space just outside people's doors. They are going to be needed, for public pressure on the available recreation areas around the metropolis is already heavy.

Suburbanites also, however, are more mobile than almost any non-nomadic civilian population in history. A great variety of things to do are within driving distance of their homes on an afternoon off, or a weekend, or a vacation. Therefore, the question of providing and improving outdoor recreation for them, as well as for more mobile residents of the central city, merges with the wider question of outdoor recreation on a Basinwide scale, for residents and visitors alike.

Basin recreational needs

If the things are done that need to be done to reverse the environmental deterioration that has been the subject of so much of this report, the public's chance to enjoy widespread, high quality outdoor recreation in the Potomac Basin will be tremendously increased. Recreation and preservation are not separable subjects. If a river is cleaned up and its shoreline protected against clutter and ugliness, its use by fishermen and boatmen and others will be enhanced. If a park is established to protect a unique natural asset, people's enjoyment of that asset will be assured. Most preservation leads to more recreational opportunity; many things that are done to provide outdoor recreation afford some measure of protection for the environment as well, but the emphases are sometimes different.

Among specific recreational problems, access is a major one. For those who can afford cars, getting around the Basin grows easier all the time as roads proliferate, but getting at the agreeable things to do is hard in many places. Here and there important parts of the public lands in the National or State forests, for instance, are cut off from easy use by private inholdings. But the main amenity that is usually hard to reach is water, which happens also to be the major magnet for outdoor recreation of many kinds.

The estuary's 200,000 acres of superb recreational potential are a case in point. It has a few drawbacks that can and ought to be dealt with, like the thousands of old sunken pilings and stakes that make boating dangerous in many places, and some others that may be tougher to eliminate, like the great annual summertime incursions of stinging jellyfish in its lowest reaches, the milfoil weed that sometimes clogs its tributaries, and the erosion of its shores by winter storms. But even as it stands, it offers fishing and boating and hunting of the finest sort in its lower part, with excellent swimming higher up where salinity drops and the jellyfish cannot come--a zone whose useful length will increase upstream as metropolitan pollution diminishes. Yet along the estuary's shores, except at certain historic sites like Wakefield where types of use have to be limited, there are only two major public parks at present and very few other public areas of any size where people can launch boats, fish, camp, or merely get at the open water. Some of the great military bases there are closed to the public, while others permit limited use.

The main stem of the flowing Potomac is parallelled on the Maryland shore by the C. & O. Canal in Federal ownership, a unique resource. But the bulk of the land between the canal and the river--7200 acres out of 10,000--is privately owned. Along most of the 120 miles where the canal property touches the Potomac it is much too narrow to permit heavy use, so that public enjoyment of the river except at occasional spots is limited to hikers, cyclists, and boatmen. Maryland's Fort Frederick State Park, which joins the canal property and forms a much-frequented node of public use, is the only such park on any of the main rivers of the upper Basin.

Federal and state forests, extensive though they are, are mainly confined to the ridges, as is the Shenandoah National Park. On the two forks of the Shenandoah and its main stem below their junction, very little public land exists despite the big segment of National Forest in the Massanutten range between the forks, and on the Cacapon there is hardly any. Authorized additions to the Spruce Knob-Seneca Rocks National Recreation Area will bring parts of the fine, clean mountain forks of the South Branch into public ownership and use, but the main stem of that river farther down is shut off.

Fee-entrance places and State or local fishing access points are sparse, so that for the most part the Basin's main flowing streams remain a closed book for people who lack the time, youth, equipment, or inclination to come at them by canoeing or some other more or less arduous means. And, as was noted earlier, the shores of most of them urgently need some sort of reasonable protection against vacation clutter, so that a certain amount of public ownership or control would help save the rivers as well as provide recreation.

Imbalances in the kinds of recreation available in various parts of the Basin are another problem, sometimes rooted in the nature of things, sometimes remediable. The outstanding one is the shortage in the upper Basin of what is called "flat water"--lakes and reservoirs suited for mass recreation of kinds for which a really major demand exists and is growing: swimming and motorboating and water-skiing, besides fishing of the type possible only in such water.

It has been said that recreation is potentially Appalachia's most profitable industry. If so, Potomac Appalachia badly needs more such water to fill out the resource and to attract the many people who are interested mainly in flat-water activities. Middle sections of the Basin want and can use it as well. A clear indication of the demand, as well as an additional good reason for trying to meet it, is seen on weekends along the occasional narrow stretches of slack water found in the Potomac and the Shenandoah and even the slim South Branch, where ski boats roar up and down among apprehensive swimmers and unhappy anglers, a classic instance of the kind of destruction of pleasure that occurs when incompatible recreational pursuits are forced together by a want of room for both.

The obvious answer is to locate and design the reservoirs needed to meet Basin water demands in such a way that they can not only fulfill that purpose but can provide needed recreation too. The major reservoirs called for to achieve near-future supply purposes are few, but they can be planned in places where they will get a maximum of these types of use and where drawdown and other unesthetic effects will be minimal. And the smaller headwater structures needed for water supply, flood control, and other purposes throughout the Basin can quite often be designed to function as first-rate recreational attractions too.

Anglers vary widely in their tastes. Some like the pursuit of bass and sunfish in reservoirs, and for them the upper estuary as well will be a good place to go when it is suitably cleaned up. Some want wide salt water and the lonely cry of gulls, and these the Basin can provide also. Others prefer trout in highland streams, or smallmouth and catfish in the big flowing rivers, and as the state of the waters grows better, so too will all these kinds of fishing. On certain rivers and streams particularly, the assured flow that is going to be needed to cope with diffuse pollution will have a strong good effect on aquatic life and sport fishing. The Monocacy and the South Fork of the Shenandoah are examples. And in the Potomac falls and gorge below the metropolitan water intakes, as was noted in Chapter III, assurance of a certain minimum flow would be justifiable on esthetic and recreational grounds alone, even aside from the need for it below in terms of water quality.

Hunters need more room outdoors than most people, because of their guns and because they move about in search of game. Fortunately, the fall and winter months when they function are times when relatively fewer other people are out roaming. The public forests of the upper Basin are a main resource for hunting now and in the future, and the kinds of public access that are established on the estuary and the main rivers will have to take hunters' interests into account. Even so, if they increase in numbers as much as has been predicted, the added demand for places to go will require more lease and day hunting on private land in the long run than exists at present, and improvement of that land's wildlife potential.

Certain other kinds of recreational facilities, constituting the bulk of profitable enterprises associated with America's outdoor pleasure, will have to depend mainly or solely on private development of them. Amusement parks, marinas, and ski lifts are examples, and so are most of the lodging places, restaurants, and other service facilities that thrive wherever increased public recreational activity takes place.

Most Americans do some driving for pleasure, and some of them do a great deal of it, using their four-wheeled bugs not just as a way of getting to pleasant places but as an indispensable adjunct to being in them and enjoying them. In certain respects, the Basin falls short of providing for their needs. The explosive demand in the past few years for auto campgrounds where people can stop with their cars, trailers, and pickup units has caused a shortage of adequately equipped facilities of this sort, especially within easy reach of Washington, which will have to be supplied by both public and private effort. Roads specifically designed for leisurely pleasure driving, in contrast to high-speed throughways, are another need. The Basin has two such motorways now--the George Washington Memorial Parkway at the metropolis, a much-used city road in its present form though still a main amenity, and the Skyline Drive along the Blue Ridge, with the Blue Ridge Parkway extending southward through it and out of the Potomac country. This magnificent low-speed mountain-top route looks out alternately over the Great Valley and the Piedmont, and the heavy use it receives, increasing year by year, shows what the right kind of scenic motor routes can mean to people.

For a multitude of residents and visitors, nothing would contribute more to appreciation of what the Basin has to offer than a system of unobtrusive parkways and scenic wandering roads joining together the region's attractions--history and scenery and sports, rivers and valleys and mountains. A major element in such a system, being studied, would be a great loop parkway tying together the existing parkways by an extension along the river and turning southward into the country along the historic James, then back to the Blue Ridge. Scenic roads tributary to the system would utilize existing rural routes for the most part, enhanced and protected by State and local action.

For the many other people who seek a more active and less mechanized relationship with natural things, a connected regional network of trails for walking or riding or cycling is a main need and a main opportunity. Like the parkways or even more than them, it could be a framework for open space preservation and an intimate means of using that open space. Tied in with existing segments like the C. & O. towpath and the Appalachian Trail, linking the towns and cities with ridges and riversides and parks and historic places, it would provide the most fitting kind of access to the whole Potomac realm of things for anyone willing to take an afternoon's stroll or a week's hike.

More fundamentally still, it would be a powerful and continuing element in conservation education of the best kind, the participating kind. For generation after generation of the young people who would use it most, it would shape a feeling for rocks and water, creatures and trees, sun and wind and rain and hills and valleys, old houses and ruins and bloody fighting grounds, together with a sense of man's natural origins. And shaping the feeling, it would shape some comprehension.

The Potomac Basin is going to need that kind of comprehension; the whole country is. Recreation means fun, and it probably ought not be overweighed with solemnities. But outdoor fun is dependent on the wellbeing of the outdoors, and increasingly the outdoors depends on the understanding and sympathy of human beings who possess new great power of destruction and have been using it widely. So that if any form of outdoor recreation can furnish, however slightly, some comprehension of what the natural world is like and how it works, it amounts to quite a lot more than a bit of needed relaxation from the week's toil at one's job or in the kitchen and nursery, though it may be that as well. With the comprehension, it becomes an enlargement of one's grasp of things, and it adds a little substance to the hope that people will keep on caring about the integrity of the world around them and defending it as best they can. And no safeguard this present mortal generation can set up is more meaningful than that hope.

Avenues toward coping with landscape problems

Most of the known basic techniques of landscape protection have already been discussed or touched on in this report: ways of cleaning up rivers and assuring their flow, ways of halting erosion and siltation, ways of planning land's use by concentrated human populations with as little loss as possible of amenities, ways of patching up old damage. Many of them are imperfect as yet and for some problems tools are still missing, nor are the existing techniques being applied in a completely coordinated manner anywhere on this continent except in a few experimental places of restricted size. But they do exist; they are available if human beings and human institutions can be persuaded to put them to use. And it is not possible to repeat too often that the need for their use is urgent.

A great deal of legal machinery at various levels is available to stimulate the use of such techniques and to enhance outdoor recreation. Some of it has already been put to work in the Potomac Basin; some of it needs reshaping for application to the conditions found there; and to cope with certain of the problems, specific legislative action tailored to the needs is going to be required.

Active Federal programs of public works, technical assistance, grants in aid, cost sharing, taxation, home loans, mortgage insurance, and such things--often with counterparts at state levels--penetrate every level of the economy and have profound effects on the landscape. Some of them have a direct concern with the landscape as such: among these are the Department of Agriculture's soil conservation and forestry programs, Interior activities ranging from water pollution control to trails, parks, and wildlife refuges, and Housing and Urban Development programs for the restoration, protection, and creation of urban amenities--all being applied in the Basin, though some need legislative adjustment or extension if they are to be fully effective there. Most also have associated recreational purposes.

Others among the going high-level programs have only a tangential interest in the landscape per se, though frequently much influence upon it. In the past, as we have observed earlier, many of them have been responsible for a good deal of landscape damage, encouraging sprawl and other forms of bad land use, instituting great public projects without enough thought to their effect on esthetics and ecology, and so on. Some are still being conducted in this manner, though less and less as a general awareness of the need to restore and to preserve, to think twice before making massive environmental changes, soaks out through the complex network of government and has its influence on attitudes. Increasingly, not only Federal but State agencies are making decent land use, recreation, and scenic preservation a partial condition and sometimes a whole reason for aid programs and public works.

Many programs can be adapted to such purposes. One interesting example in the Potomac Basin is a study being undertaken in the Georges Creek valley of western Maryland by Frostburg State College. Under an educational grant from the Department of Health, Education, and Welfare, members of the college's faculty have embarked on research aimed toward a demonstration project of economic, social, and landscape restoration in the whole Georges Creek watershed as a unit. Action resulting from the study will involve a number of their State and Federal programs.

Often, of course, the benefits of such practices are "intangible" in terms of the market values that have traditionally been used for justifying government projects, and adequate ways of giving them their true weight against other values that may be in conflict with them have not yet really been worked out. Nevertheless, the fact that they have strong and sometimes overriding benefits is being recognized.

Insofar as such programs encourage Basinwide landscape improvement and protection and major recreational opportunities, they are instruments for accomplishing overall Basin aims, usable as such now by Federal and State agencies and at the future disposal of any Basinwide coordinative organization that may evolve. Insofar as they permit and stimulate counties and municipalities to do better environmental planning and give them money and morale to implement and enforce planning, they are available at this indispensable level of action where--as we have seen--the obstacles to doing things right are often huge. The programs put within reach of local officials the principles of good planning and management, and help them to achieve its details, from wildlife refuges to neighborhood parks, from the maintenance of riverside beauty and the restoration of historic shrines to the construction of small reservoirs. As knowledge of their existence and their advantages gets around, they are beginning to have much effect, especially at larger centers of population.

Nevertheless, it is impossible at present to be sure that any given locality is going to take meaningful steps toward staving off blight and landscape destruction, and a great many of them in the Potomac Basin have not done so. Partly this is because the imperative need for planning is only now beginning to dawn upon many smaller communities. But even where it has dawned and planning has been undertaken by men of good will, the great obstacles still exist and often block their efforts--the lack of money to match Federal or State program funds, the inability to convince fellow citizens who have to approve actions, the fat profits in real estate, the pervasive influence of personal relationships.

Ideally, for a number of attractive reasons, it would be preferable to let local people solve local landscape and recreation problems in every case, with outside higher levels of government furnishing only advice and money on request. In regard to many types of problems, this is what is being done and will be done on into the future, for people living in a place are the ones who determine whether the place is going to be ugly or pretty, pleasant or grim. The trouble is, however, that as understanding of the interrelationships between land and water and the other elements of the landscape, even on a Basinwide scale, has grown, it has become more and more obvious that there are only a few strictly local landscape problems. Most local jurisdictions have within their boundaries critical watersheds, unique scenic assets, flood plains whose unwise use will require elaborate and costly structural protection later on, and other such features. This being so, the effects of mismanagement are certain to reverberate elsewhere, and it becomes the concern of people other than those who live in that neighborhood. It becomes other people's business, distasteful though this idea may be to communities with a tradition of self-sufficiency.

Regional planning organizations that can pool counties' and towns' resources, take a broad view, and pay for professional help can overcome some of the obstacles, if local governments can be persuaded to join them. Certain of the State and Federal programs mentioned above are being applied mainly through such bodies. But it seems to be an unavoidable conclusion that if local government continues to be the weakest link in the chain of planning, preservation of the environment is going to require not only stouter incentives to elicit cooperation from communities, but also more authority at higher levels of government to guard against at least the worst types of landscape abuse. In terms of water, this kind of authority will shortly be operative with the enforcement of the new State water quality standards. In terms of the other elements of the landscape, it is equally justifiable.

And, just as in water management in all its phases, central and continuing Basinwide coordination of practices to restore the landscape, to protect it, and to make possible its pleasant use by the public is going to be needed. If landscape problems could be divorced from water problems it might be a good deal easier, at this point in time, to identify a fairly full range of "right" measures that could be taken to achieve such restoration and protection for a long, long period into the future than it would be to do the same thing for water problems. Restoration and protection are not irreversible actions in the sense that some of the technological measures associated with water management are, and the main danger of rigid landscape planning would not be that it might go too far, but that it might not go far enough to save all that ought to be saved.

But, as we have observed time and again in these pages, no divorce is possible between land and water. They are interdependent, and whoever concerns himself with one must perforce concern himself with the other. Much of the action in regard to both is going to have to be long-term, continuing into the future. New threats are going to arise, some of them quite possibly based in a divergence of aims among various government programs with environmental effects. Thus, if a Basin-oriented agency is required--as we strongly believe--to oversee continuing action to clean up the Potomac river system and keep it clean, and to develop it for man's use in a wisely flexible and coordinated manner, that organization is going to have to take on a degree of responsibility for landscape matters as well, and is going to need some authority over them.

Many things can be identified that need doing now if irreplaceable assets in the Potomac environment are not to be lost, and if people are to be given a full chance to enjoy what is there. Some of these things that need doing have been named in this chapter or previously, and others are implicit in the report's discussions. We have worked out recommendations for action that can get them done, and the recommendations are presented with this report. They include some specific recreational proposals, and they urge prompt and authoritative protection of certain assets that are going to be destroyed if protection does not come soon, long-term programs to bring about detailed and overall restoration and protection and continued study and research into means of coping with threats not yet fully understood, like some of those along the estuary and the North Branch.

The main recommendation with a specific objective of preserving the landscape and providing recreation proposes the designation of the main river from Washington to Cumberland as the Potomac National River. Though it is to remain accessible for appropriate use by towns and industries, its banks and islands will be protected and public access assured by means of a sheath of park land, in Federal, State, and local ownership and with associated areas preserved by easements and similar devices, for the entire 195 miles. The proposal, refined since its initial mention in the Interim Report, is a major one--but so, as we have seen, is the need it is designed to meet. This main reach of the flowing river, the Basin's hydrologic and scenic lifeline, is greatly menaced by rapid and inappropriate development along its banks, and through most of its length it is hard for people to reach. It has unique majesty and beauty and both historic and symbolic associations that warrant a special degree of protection for it, and warrant also the assurance of the kind of public appreciation and enjoyment the park sheath would permit.

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The recreation and landscape recommendations as a body are attuned to reality as well as to needs. They represent things that can be done, at prices that can be paid--minimum initial steps toward ultimate achievements that would be inferior to none that our changeful age might produce. This is an insistently momentous time, with boom, frenetic pleasure, sophisticated communications, space exploration, racial crisis, young rebellion, and all the other contemporary phenomena demanding attention and stirring up a dust that makes clear vision hard. There is nothing minor about any of them. But one thing seems clear enough. When the dust settles down and those who walk here afterward look around them for the eternal wholeness of earthly things, they are going to have a hard time finding it if matters keep going as they have been going lately. If we who are here now fail to hand over to them a physical world that relates them to old reality and serves them well and helps to make them glad to be alive, then whatever other things we hand over to them may seem very small potatoes.

The Potomac Basin is only a piece of what needs to be done. But it could be a beginning.