There’s a rock outcrop on the Mocanaqua Loop Trail in Conyngham Township that makes you feel as if you are in the middle of a vast wilderness. The view from the rocky perch extends for miles over an unbroken swath of forest. There is not a house or road in sight.
But if you look down, reality hits you hard. The hemlock forest below the rock outcrop is covered with debris – carpet, furniture, household trash and garbage. The area behind the outcrop is littered with empty beer cans, shotgun shells and plastic. The scene serves as a grim reminder that one of the ills of society — illegal dumping — haunts even the most scenic, remote places in Luzerne County.
The site was one of several toured by state officials on Monday as part of the COALS program, an ambitious effort by local and state agencies to clean up the worst of the worst illegal dumpsites in the area.
During the day the group stopped by sites throughout Luzerne County. Each site was a wretched mess created by those with no respect for our natural areas, and unpleasant surprises awaited at every stop.
A steep bank off Pecora Road in Sugarloaf Township was strewn with garbage that was tossed over the guardrail. Some of the trash spilled a hundred yards down the bank into the Nescopeck Creek, a stocked trout stream.
An old stripping pit in Newport Township was almost filled to the top with garbage. The front end of a vehicle poked through the debris, right below an old fiberglass boat. Tons of tires, metal and garbage bags were tossed on top for good measure.
It looked as if somebody blew up a landfill.
I didn’t think it could get any worse, but Steve Bartos, of the state Department of Environmental Protection, assured me it would.
For the last stop of the day, our convoy of vehicles crawled up a dirt road, appropriately nicknamed “Dump Road,” on a mountain outside of Tomhicken in Black Creek Township. Scattered garbage appeared along the steep bank about 100 yards into the climb.
Near the top of the mountain, Bartos’ prediction came true. Mountains of garbage dominated the otherwise pristine landscape. The dumpsite extended for several hundred yards along the road, and the debris ranged from the typical tires to metal drums containing a mysterious liquid.
The smell of rotting deer carcasses and swollen bags of household trash filled the air. Moldy mattresses, bags of used cat litter, plastic soda bottles, pillows, kitchen flooring, appliances, televisions, a swimming pool cover and rotting furniture intertwined to create a smelly eyesore in an otherwise scenic township.
The Dump Road dump also offered a few gruesome finds. A large, plastic pet carrier, faded and cracked, leaned haphazardly against a tree. A few feet away the skeletal remains of a dog laid strewn above the garbage.
Was the dog hauled to the area in the pet carrier and discarded? Would somebody actually do such a thing?
When it comes to illegal dumping, there are no limits.
“You would be surprised at the number of pets we find in illegal dumps. Most of them were shot and discarded,” said Bartos as he stared at the dog’s skull.
“I’ve seen hundreds of dumpsites all over the state, and each one is a quality-of-life issue. We have to do something to change the culture.”
And change the perception that just because something is tossed over a bank, it’s not necessarily out of sight, out of mind.
Previously published in the Times Leader, April 3, 2007.
