Noticing
by John Hicks-Courant
johnhc@TheWorld.com
 
In the course of writing the trip description that begins on the next page, I paddled the same section
no fewer — and probably more —than a dozen times in late summer and early fall. This section of the river
has always seemed like a part to simply pass through as quickly as possible. It is the last mile of the
fourth floodplain, and it is so short that you will miss it if you’re not paying attention.
 
This section of the river has always seemed remarkably pristine. For some reason, the bottles and
cans seem to accumulate right by the Knights of Columbus and the two 180-degree bends in the river there.
 
So it was quite a surprise to me the other day when I put in yet again and, right by the put-in,
I saw the unmistakable shape of a tire buried in the bottom. How many times have I passed
through here? How could I not have seen that tire before?
 
Then I started noticing all of the bottles. It seemed that there was a pair of discarded bottles
at every bend in the river.  I went back the next day in a canoe — as opposed to my normal boat,
a kayak — and lifted two dozen bottles and two tires from that one mile of the river.
 
It was quite gratifying to recognize a problem and then fix it in the span of twenty-four hours.
This is the thing that sets the Shawsheen River apart from other bodies of moving water: when you
do something, the river displays the improvement immediately.
 
There are some things that we have been doing over and over again for two decades, and the effects
are only lately making themselves evident. Here I’m referring to the dauntless hunt for old tires
buried in the river bottom, to the iterative removal of layered trash and industrial debris. The
wildlife has come back, and the river is navigable from end to end.
 
There is one thing that you will see — and maybe even notice —  as you paddle the Shawsheen River.
At every wooded stretch of the river, trees have fallen into the water. In many cases, fallen trees span the river.
 
It is in just such places where you will see that somebody has come through with a saw and made
the spot passable. This isn’t the case just in Billerica and Tewksbury. We have been cutting passageways
through and around fallen trees for two decades.
 
It often happens that the tree had been growing for decades right next to the river until it attained
a crown so heavy that the wet soil around its roots could not sustain it. When this happens, the tree is
too big to effectively work with a 30-inch handsaw. This is where a chainsaw comes in handy.
 
For close to a decade, we have depended on the chainsaws of Ken Doran (aka Cap’n Chainsaw). He wears
one of those hardhats with the built-in ear cups that deaden the racket his saws make.
 
This year, we reached the point where Cap’n Chainsaw’s trusty tools succumbed to time, repetitive use,
and occasional abuse. Rather than merely thanking Cap’n Chainsaw for his time, effort, and tools, we
thought the right thing to do would be to acquire a new, modern, more heavy-duty chainsaw for him to use.
 
Toward that end, we are starting a fundraiser for a new chainsaw for Cap’n Chainsaw. The price tag at
O’Connor Hardware for the chainsaw we have in mind is $360. Toward the back page of this issue, you
will see an illustration that reflects our current status in collecting that money. Can you spare a
couple of dollars? Ten dollars?
 
Next time you’re out on the river, look around. You’ll get a pretty good idea how often chainsaws
have been employed to keep the river clear. Come on, help us keep the river navigable.