Hundreds more blanket the walls of the barge. Outside, hundreds of mayflies cling to condensation forming along the handrails. Everything - from an announcement by the Mississippi Riverboat Owners Association: “All Gamblers And Fancy Women Must Sign Up With Captain Before Boat Leaves For New Orleans” to a four-foot-long plastic grouper fish advertising “Fresh Seafood” - is recycled from the river. River spoils decorate the walls of the galley. “I don’t know how many people can say, ‘Yeah, I’m a teacher on a barge,’” she said. The 29-year-old Wisconsinite joined the crew after spending an alternative spring break trip in Memphis with LLW during her senior year at University of Wisconsin-Stevens Point. “I feel more at home here,” Loomis, LLW’s education coordinator explained. The anticipation of a long day ahead does not fill the trio with the kind of dread that occupies the mind of some 9-5 cubicle-dwellers.
The smell of coffee, and the promise of caffeine, wafts through the air as the pot on the other side of the kitchen gurgles. Inside the galley of the house barge, Nozzy and his fellow crew members, Rachel Loomis and Callie Schaser, sit quietly at the kitchen table as the eerie glow of 7 a.m. (Photo by Joshua Bickel/Columbus Dispatch) Cleaning up Ohio’s ‘living life force’ Callie Schaser grills some chicken for dinner on Tuesday, Jin Cincinnati, Ohio.
Taco stacks scrap plus#
With more than 11 million pounds of trash removed over the years, and more than 1.6 million trees planted by over 120,000 plus volunteers, it is hard to argue against that logic.
“Because really most people, I think, are good, right? And this is one of those cool things that creates an outlet for people to do good.” “It really is this powerful, cool thing, where we’re keeping it fun and not getting too serious about it,” he said. Nozzy sees LLW’s mission as a bonding experience between one another and our natural resources, along the river towns and muddy shorelines of rural America. Pregracke and his crew have carved out a small pocket of positive change despite the fractured politics, runaway misinformation and a generous dose of scientific skepticism. (Photo by Joshua Bickel/Columbus Dispatch) “And I think if more people thought about conserving America’s resources in that way, more would do it.” A small plant winds its way up a fence on the barge where discarded plastic bottles and styrofoam cups are kept until they can be properly disposed on Wednesday, Jin Cincinnati, Ohio. “Recycling should be marketed as patriotic,” he added. “I think the new ‘green’ is red, white and blue,” said LLW’s founder Chad Pregracke, who sees America’s rivers as a “living life force.” It’s a source of drinking water for more than 5 million Americans and a body of water experts say is polluted by a layered and systematic “environmental death of a thousand cuts.” Most of that garbage – 355,953 pounds, or 63% of it – came from the Ohio River. last year, including the Ohio, Mississippi, Tennessee, Rock, Illinois, Des Plaines and Cuyahoga. Powered by a dedicated 10-person crew aboard a barge, they collected over half a million pounds of trash across seven rivers throughout the U.S. Living Lands and Waters is many things: a 23-year-old environmental non-profit, a band of modern-day deckhands living on a barge nine months of the year, educators who host watershed conservation initiatives and workshops and even, a group of tree-planters. The organization says it’s the only non-profit doing “industrial strength” river clean-up in the world. Nicknamed after Nos – the Monster-manufactured, NASCAR-sponsored energy drink he used to down religiously – Nozzy has seen a lot during his 15 years working for Living Lands and Waters. Rachel Loomis is reflected in a window on the barge as she cleans out a john boat at the end of the day on Tuesday, Jin Cincinnati, Ohio. “Time to hand it over,” the 44-year-old said, recalling the government’s concern that the mortar, potentially still live, had to be detonated. Coast Guard showed up at the volunteer’s house. They took it home with them, Nozzy remembers.
The 19th century bomb was hauled up from the river by a volunteer during a clean-up years ago. “Oh yeah, the weirdest thing we ever found was a Civil War-era mortar shell,” Nozzy said. Nozzy has also found a couple of saran wrapped horse heads, just floating along the water. Last season’s haul racked up 60,206 pounds of scrap metal, 1,413 tires and 114 milk crates. Nozzy, a crew member working aboard a trash-collecting barge, is never quite sure what he’s going to pull from the water. Knee-deep in the muddy banks of the Ohio River, Mike “Nozzy” Coyne-Logan squints through the hazy sunlight poking through the July morning fog.
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