Article by LRWP Volunteer Monitoring Irene Riegner

“Water, water everywhere”—but can you drink it? For the last five years, citizen scientists under the guidance of the Lower Raritan Watershed Partnership have been monitoring the water quality of the lower Raritan River.  Last summer, I was one of those monitors.  Once a week from late spring through early fall, through spring rains and summer heat, we tested the waters from Perth Amboy north to Piscataway.  We tested quantitatively through water samples and instrument readings and qualitatively through observation.  The river was in better condition than I would have imagined:  Despite abandoned factories along its banks; despite surrounding industrial neighborhoods, junk yards, and heavy industry; despite the usual litter; despite sewage outflow; despite bird guano.

Near Highland Park, I watched a great blue heron gracefully stalking its prey.  Then, zap.  The fish entered its eternal afterlife.  In Piscataway, cormorants floated on the river and periodically dived for dinner.  Near the Edison Boat Basin, osprey, scrutinizing the river from their high perch, nested across from a landfill and next to a petro-chemical factory. The river must be alive; there must be a plentiful source of food in its depths. 

Water quality monitoring volunteer, and article author, Irene Riegner helps the LRWP and NJDEP scout locations installation of an ISCO water quality sampler for a Summer 2024 study

We took readings for dissolved oxygen, pH and salinity and measured the temperature.  The numbers varied but usually landed within favorable parameters, pointing to a reasonably healthy aquatic life.  On the other hand, elevated readings of enterococcus, an indicator of pathogenic disease, were troublesome. We took water samples for testing.  A red face on our charts indicated that enterococcus was above the permitted level.  Perhaps effluvia from a nearby outflow.  Perhaps runoff after a rainstorm.  Perhaps downstream waste flowing upstream with the current.

“Do you eat the fish you catch?” I asked the local fishermen casting their lines into the water.  “We throw ‘em back,” most of them answered.  Fishing and the river mean a morning with their buddies.  Sailing and the river mean recreation with family and friends. The sailboats are moored in the river near South Amboy, near the million dollar, Victorian style homes, snuggled between factories and dumps. I never observed anyone swimming from the sand beach in front of these homes. 

Last summer, I began learning about the river, learning to understand it as an organism with complex parts, both natural and human-constructed, whose reach radiates beyond its banks into the municipalities and parks that line its shores—and beyond.  Maybe with the communal effort of municipalities lining the Raritan and its tributaries, the river once again can become a focal point for recreation—and maybe, someday, we could even eat the fish and swim in it. 

The 2023 summer monitoring revealed the cleanest water yet.