Coming through Delaware Water Gap in a driving rain, the fall colors still brilliant in late October, an image comes to mind: a Lenape hunting party, threading their way through the woods hundreds of years ago, along these same curves of the River.
Looking up, they see the face of stern, grey rock, wreathed in mist and swirling cloud, sheer, massive, timeless. Just what I am seeing.
The awe they feel, the shiver of fear in some ancient part of their brains. Just what I am feeling.
The life of the Delaware River is slipping into winter’s quiet rhythm.
In spring, warming river water drew a mass migration of American shad from the salty ocean water to lay their millions of eggs in the fresh river water-- here and in the Brodhead Creek and other upstream tributaries.
For thousands of years, small bands of people gathered on these banks and upstream, working together to harvest the abundance, cleaning and smoking the fish for the long months ahead.
Plenty of fish survived to spawn every year, starting the cycle anew.
As the seasons turn and the water grows colder in fall, young shad stream downriver toward the open ocean.
In three to five years, after they mature, their instincts will draw them toward the warming water of the Delaware, and the ancient dance will begin again.
There was a time, not so long ago, when the fish-- and all natural rhythms on the Delaware River-- were at risk.
A dam was proposed. [See: Tocks Island Dam]
Family farms and homesteads all along the River were condemned and bought out. The dam would flood the land with a vast reservoir.
It was too late to save the private property. But people were riled up. If they couldn’t save their land, maybe they could still save their River.
Intense public outcry combined with hard-working, determined citizen-leaders-- Nancy Shukaitis, Ruth Jones, the Save the Delaware Coalition, even a Supreme Court Justice and two New Jersey Governors.
It took years. But the dam project was shelved in 1975 and later officially de-authorized by Congress.
That’s how land that was doomed to be the floor of a reservoir is today part of the 70,000 acre Delaware Water Gap National Recreation Area.
That’s why the shad still run freely. And why the River lives on, the longest wild, free-flowing river in the east, known and revered by people centuries ago, and still today.
Does this account make saving the River seem easy? A foregone conclusion?
It was anything but. There were sleepless nights and endless days and the agony of feeling all hope was lost.
However you experience Delaware Water Gap Recreation Area-- in a car, on a trail, on the River-- give a moment’s thought to the pure, stubborn, won’t-take-no-for-an-answer persistence that protected this wildness for generations to enjoy.
The Brodhead Watershed Association works tirelessly in Monroe County to protect water quality and quantity throughout our area.
Related Article This Week - Brodhead Watershed:
-- Protecting Clean Water Together: Looks Okay, Smells Okay, But Is It Okay? - By Carol Hillestad for Brodhead Watershed Association [PaEN]
[Posted: October 27, 2026] PA Environment Digest
