Oops, there was a from in the text...

["Scott D. Kniffin" <Scott.D.Kniffin.1@gsfc.nasa.gov>]

Sorry about that, there was a 'From' at the beginning of a line, here's the
rest of the article.

Scott Kniffin
Engineer
RSO, Unisys Federal Systems, Lanham, MD
CHO, Radiation Effects Facility, GSFC, NASA, Greenbelt, MD
mailto:Scott.D.Kniffin.1@gsfc.nasa.gov

The opinions expressed here are my own.  They do not necessarily represent
the views of Unisys Corporation or NASA.  This information has not been
reviewed by my employer or supervisor.  

Story Continued...

*** From boom to bust 

While Moab grew to depend on uranium, San Diego was growing to depend on
water from the Colorado River. 

During the first year the mill operated -- and began heaping radioactive
tailings into the pit -- San Diego drew 47.4 billion gallons from the river. 

In 1962, when Steen sold the mill to Atlas Corp., business was still
booming, and by 1972, the tailings pile had grown to almost 6 million tons.  
By then, San Diego County was relying even more heavily on the river's
water; 115 billion gallons flowed into the county for drinking, irrigation,
household and commercial uses. 

Although the military stopped buying uranium about this time, Atlas began
selling it for use in nuclear reactors. 

But the uranium boom was going bust. 

On March 15, 1982, the mill closed, and all but a few workers were laid
off.  Today the last Atlas employee in Moab spends his days roaming the old
mill site, testing the water, soil and air for contamination. 

The buildings have been demolished and sold for scrap.  Parts that were too
radioactive to be sold were buried by the river in the waste pile.  The
mound was then covered with dirt held in place by a synthetic adhesive, so
the sharp desert winds wouldn't blow toxic waste into town. 

Meanwhile, San Diego's demand for Colorado River water continued to grow to
an all-time high of 158.2 billion gallons in 1990. 

Today, as the San Diego County Water Authority considers a plan to draw
even more water from the Colorado, the river continues to collect waste
from natural and man-made sources. 

The Moab tailings account for only a fraction of the pollution. 
Agricultural, industrial and residential waste also drain into the river. 
So does contamination from abandoned uranium mines and a small mill
submerged in the river at Utah's Lake Powell. 

Although the water goes through a purification process before being piped
into homes, water officials say precautions must be taken. 

"Drinking water sources are getting less and less available, especially
those that aren't contaminated," said Gene Nordgren of the County Water
Authority.  "They need to take a very close look at this." 

The state's largest water agency, the Metropolitan Water District of
Southern California, agrees.  It is taking steps to formally oppose NRC's
plan to allow the pile to stay put. 

"Common sense says you don't want something like that sitting next to a
river that is used for drinking water," said Sylvia Barrett, a chemist for
the water district, which sells Colorado River water to San Diego. 

A slight increase in radioactivity has been detected in the water.  But so
far, water district scientists can't pinpoint the source. 

In high enough doses, such radiation can increase the incidence of cancer
and genetic abnormalities.  Marshall Davis, manager of the water district's
testing lab, says the traces of radiation are nowhere near the danger
level.  Monthly tests show uranium levels reach only about one-third the
federal standard for safe water. 

"But we are certainly guarded and watching it carefully," Davis said. 

Tourist mecca 

The people of Moab also are concerned about the waste pile -- but for
different reasons. 

Their drinking water is safe because it comes from mountain streams rather
than the river.  But they fear nuclear contaminants will blow into their
town.  And they worry that their booming tourist business -- fueled by
mountain bikers, river rafters, climbers and 4-wheel enthusiasts -- would
suffer if the 2.5 million visitors who pass through each year knew what the
locals know. 

River guides joke that they no longer make "cowboy coffee" for guests using
water dipped straight from the river, which flows the color of cafe latte. 

And when Mike Bassett and his buddy Dave Galus go canoeing, they leave
their fishing poles behind. 

Bassett works for the Utah Division of Wildlife Resources and has been
sampling the contamination in the fish, plants and soil near the pile. 

"I've seen the elevated levels, and no way would I ever eat the catfish
from below the pile," Bassett said. 

But some Moab residents still maintain a deep loyalty to the mill. 

"Uranium made a town out of a cow town," said John Keogh, a former county
surveyor and vice president of the Western Association of Land Users, a
small, conservative organization that supports Atlas' plan to leave the
tailings where they are. 

"It built the hospital, it built schools and subdivisions and brought
utilities into the town.  If it hadn't been for the uranium industry and
Atlas, this wouldn't be any town to speak of." 

A lack of money 

Although the federal government has spent more than $860 million to move
radioactive tailings from America's waterways, a twist in regulations has
placed the Moab pile under the jurisdiction of an agency with no money to
fund a massive cleanup. 


In 1978, when Congress began worrying that uranium tailings "may pose a
potential and significant radiation health hazard to the public," it passed
the Uranium Mill Tailings Radiation Control Act and assigned two federal
agencies the task of dealing with the waste. 

The Department of Energy would clean up tailings piles at abandoned mills
and pay for the work with public funds. 

The Nuclear Regulatory Commission would supervise cleanups of tailings
owned by existing companies, with the owners paying most of the bills. 

Even if the NRC wanted to move a pile like the one at Moab, it couldn't --
because it is limited by money and by its own regulations. 

"If Congress said, `NRC, you have $1 billion, and now make the piles go
away,' you bet we'd look at which piles we would make go away," said Hugh
Thompson, one of the NRC's ranking officials. 

Among Congress' greatest concerns was waste left at mills built beside
rivers and streams, primarily in Utah and Colorado.  Nine had been
abandoned by their owners, so the federal government stepped in and moved
them. 

But the Moab pile fell under the jurisdiction of the NRC because it was
owned by Atlas, now a struggling company that operates a couple of gold
mines in Nevada and silver mines in Bolivia. 

Company Vice President Richard Blubaugh said having to pay to move the pile
would put Atlas out of business at a time when a $100 investment in Atlas
stock in 1992 is worth only $2.57. 

Instead, Atlas offered to cap the pile with impermeable clay and scatter
rocks -- some as small as marbles, others the size of basketballs -- on top
of the pile and along its edges. 

The NRC approved the Atlas plan, even though the agency's own environmental
impact report said it would be "environmentally preferable" to move the
pile to a desert plateau 18 miles away. 

A close reading of NRC regulations reveals a key clause that gives mill
owners some leeway. 

The regulations say uranium waste piles must be made safe for up to 1,000
years -- but only "to the extent reasonably achievable." 

Atlas' Blubaugh interprets that to mean the company doesn't have to choose
the best solution, it just has to come up with "something that works." 

In the end, the NRC agreed.  It didn't have much choice, said Mike Fliegel,
the agency's senior manager for the Atlas project.  When the environmental
and economic concerns were weighed against each other, capping the pile was
more "reasonable" than relocating it, he said. 

Conflicting opinions 

There are sharply divided views on whether Moab's site can be made safe
where it is. 

The NRC says it can. 

X Its computer models show capping the pile would hold the toxic chemicals
safely in place for 1,000 years, even through earthquakes and floods.  "We
have looked at the worst scenario -- and we had to contrive a lot to get it
that bad -- and that does not present a significant hazard to the water
supply," Fliegel said. 

X Its experts say the gunk leaking out of the bottom won't hurt anyone.
The pile has been there 40 years, they say, and there is no scientific
proof it has harmed humans.  And once the cap is in place, the flow will
decrease significantly. 

X Its studies show that layering rocks alongside the pile and the
riverbanks will keep the tailings from being eroded by the river, a force
powerful enough to have carved the Grand Canyon.  Even if as much as 20
percent of the tailings washed into the river at once, Fliegel said, the
waste would be diluted so quickly that "it wouldn't be anywhere near
radioactive enough to harm people." 

But other agencies and environmental groups say the pile should not be left
where it is: 

X A major Oak Ridge National Laboratory report, cited by the U.S. Fish and
Wildlife Service, concluded that contamination from the pile will leak into
the river for hundreds of years, ultimately decreasing to about 9,650
gallon a day as the pile dries out. 

X The report also found that fish near the pile have 250 percent more lead
and 600 percent more arsenic in their bodies than fish upstream. 

X And it showed that uranium levels in the water at the Moab site are 13
times higher than levels at the nine tailings piles that were moved by the
Department of Energy. 

Some Department of Energy officials say privately that the government's
handling of the Moab site defies common sense. 

"It doesn't seem like it will do a lot," said one engineer who asked not to
be identified because his agency must remain neutral on NRC decisions.  
"Leaving a pile four times larger near a major water source while moving a
smaller tailings pile next to a small creek doesn't seem reasonable." 

Lawsuit promised 

Determined environmentalists, some Moab businessmen and Utah authorities
now stand on the front lines of the fight to get the pile moved. 

In April, some members of the group notified the NRC and Atlas that they
intended to sue to block the current plan.  They contend the oozing mass
violates the Clean Water Act and is endangering the habitat of the Colorado
squawfish and razorback sucker. 

The coalition had counted on support from the U.S. Fish and Wildlife
Service, which for years had fought the decision to cap the pile.  But last
month, under pressure from the NRC and Atlas, the agency dropped its fight.
Atlas, in turn, promised to add some more safeguards to the pile. 

That promise hasn't satisfied opponents, who are resigned to the likelihood
of a court battle. 

They know a lawsuit will be an uphill fight.  But they persist. 

Hedden, of the Grand Canyon Trust, a resident of the Moab area for 25
years, says Atlas' waste pile is so enormous and so toxic that the courts
and Congress will be compelled to take a second look. 

"We want to put this back in Congress' lap and ask them if this is what
they really want," Hedden said. 

Eighteen congressmen, including Rep. Bob Filner, D-San Diego, have said
they want the pile moved. 

They are urging the Clinton administration to address "a serious danger" to
the people living in California, Utah, Arizona and Nevada. 

They want the White House Council on Environmental Quality to "bring a more
reasonable solution to the table that will provide greater safeguards for
those who rely on the Colorado River," they wrote last year to Vice
President Al Gore. 

"Somewhere, sometime, there will be a crisis that will point to the fact
that this was a wrong decision," Filner said of the plan to cap the pile.  

`Big, bald pyramid' 
As politicians, environmentalists, businessmen and scientists continue to
debate what should be done with Moab's uranium waste, the radioactive heap
continues to leak into the river. 

A rusty chain-link fence, hung with an occasional sign warning of
radiation, circles the tailings.  But from a distance, the giant pile
blends so easily into the sandy, red rock countryside that it is hard to
see where nature ends and man's work begins. 

It takes a moment to figure out what's wrong with the scene. 

The pile is simply too perfect, a neatly sculptured hexagon plunked in the
middle of the canyon country's unorthodox angles and irregular shapes. 

Canyonlands Superintendent Walt Dabney sees this contradiction and laments
that beneath the beauty lies an ugly reminder of the Atomic Age. 

"This big, bald pyramid adds nothing to nature's work," Dabney said.  "All
it does is act as a constant reminder of our intrusion on the land." 

Union-Tribune library researcher Merrie Cline contributed to this report. 

Sampling the water 
Samples of contaminated ground water at the Moab Wash show concentrations
that exceed EPA levels.  These examples are from a list of 20 chemicals
that exceed limits. 

Chemical	EPA std	As measured
Ammonia 	30 		185.3
Chloride 	250 		711.9
Arsenic 	50 		170
Lead 		15 		305
Uranium 	30 		940.3

Waste sites moved 
In contrast to the Moab situation, the Department of Energy has moved nine
waste sites away from rivers in the following areas. 

COLORADO
Durango
Grand Junction
Gunnison
Naturita
Rifle(2 sites)
Slick Rock (2 sites)
WYOMING
Riverton 

Copyright "http://www.uniontrib.com"; Union-Tribune Publishing Co.

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