A friend invited me to row up the Hudson yesterday and I met Rob and his mates at Croton Point—very pretty, and dominated by a massive landfill now covered in grass, with a plant to burn off the methane.
A few miles brought us to Indian Point, the nuke plant.
With dogs, girls, and cameras, we looked like Greenpeace, and stayed well outside the 300-yard perimeter so the chase boats wouldn’t go after us. It’s hard to be antinuke these days. Not when France gets 80 percent of its electricity that way. Still, the problem is the waste. How are we to live with the stuff?
We made a campground off Fishkill Creek by 5. Rob pointed out how campers had despoiled a nearby trench by making it a sewage facility, then proselytized me on the need to preserve the Hudson by carrying one’s waste out of the woods.
The latest method is to lay out a newspaper, perform/accomplish etc., wrap it up into a “burrito,” pack that in a ziplock bag, then drop the burrito in the toilet when you get home. Don’t flush till the newspaper starts coming apart. Easy as pie. Kayakers figured it out, Rob says. I wish they would get on the nuke plant problem.
