MoabPile Early 2011

Cleanup of UMTRA Moab Nuclear Site is Now On Flood-Watch
During the Cold War years, the
UMTRA project languished for lack of
sufficient funding.
During heavy rain, the Moab Wash
channels water toward the Moab Pile and the
Colorado River. An
aerial photo on the current UMTRA website
shows the wash running toward the site. Both
then and now, a subterranean stream passes under
the site. As it does so, it carries hazardous
materials to the Colorado River. Today, pumps
near the river lift much of that contaminated
water to the surface. Sprinklers then distribute
it across the tailings, where it evaporates into
the atmosphere.
By
2006, new studies showed a high potential
for massive flooding along the
Upper Colorado River. What had previously
been called a ‘1000-year flood’ might occur once
in 300 years. The new 300-year flood might also
be three
times
larger than the old 1000-year flood. Sediments
from ancient floods along the river proved that
a large spring flood could
sweep much of the Moab Pile downstream. If
so, its radioactive poisons would flow toward
the
Lower Colorado Basin. Suddenly, the prospect
of Los Angeles and Phoenix becoming “ghost
cities” seemed plausible.
During the George W. Bush
administration, cleanup funds for the Moab Pile
were sparse. At the time, the U.S. was fighting
wars in both Iraq and Afghanistan. Unwilling to
add further to the federal deficit, many
Cold War era cleanups languished.
Conventional wisdom said, “If a large flood
is so rare, the odds are that it will not happen
here in our lifetimes.”
Soon after President Obama took
office, his administration funded cleanup of the
Moab Pile. Then, as the economy faltered, the
project received additional federal stimulus
money. In April 2009, the first trainload of
contaminated soil departed for a disposal site
near
Crescent Junction, Utah. By late 2010,
larger waste containers and a second train each
day promised even faster removal of the Moab
Pile.
In 2025, when UMTRA concludes its
work, the long-running environmental disaster
known as the Moab Pile will be gone. With almost
fifteen years to go, I wonder what might happen
if a 300-year flood hits the site prior to
complete removal. When asked that question, an
UMTRA manager explained to me that flood
protection at the site was already complete.
Most of that work focused on sandbagging where
the Moab Wash meets the river on the northern
edge of the Moab Pile. As a temporary stopgap,
workers had sandbagged to protect the well field
adjacent to the Colorado River. That small
project protected against a normal spring flood,
but would do nothing to stop the potential
ravages of a 300-year flood event.
Once the removal and transport
work began, conventional wisdom reestablished
itself. The current prevailing attitude at the
UMTRA project is that, ‘If we don't think about
it, everything will be OK’. Removal and disposal
of material continues, but will that effort
‘beat the clock’ against a 300-year flood event?
Statistically, there is a five percent chance
that a 300-year flood event will occur before
UMTRA concludes. Even so, federal regulators and
the private contractor continue to ignore the
potential for flood damage at the UMTRA site.
In recent years,
large dust storms have become common
occurrences in the Four Corners. The prospect of
a regional dust storm rapidly melting heavy
snowpack on the Colorado Plateau is real. In
preparation for such an event, both UMTRA and
its regulators should reassess the risk of flood
damage at the site. A one-in-twenty chance that
a flood will send any part of the Moab Pile
downstream is too high a risk to take. The
livelihood of fourteen million downstream
residents may depend on protecting the Moab Pile
during its removal.
The "Train of Pain" Travels Thirty Miles from Moab to Crescent Junction
In April 2009, I was in Moab,
Utah when the first mill tailings train departed
the Uranium Mill Tailings Remedial Action (UMTRA)
site. The train departed from a track running
high along a ridge that overlooks the
Moab Pile. Five days each week, a trainload
of radioactive soil headed north on the
Cane Creek Subdivision, better known as the
Potash Branch. The destination is a disposal
site, northeast of
Brendel and Crescent Junction, Utah. In
those early days of rail transport, there was no
published train schedule. Before I could locate
a schedule, it was time for me to leave Moab.
In October 2010, I returned to
Moab,
traveling south along U.S. Highway 191. As
the road descended towards the entrance at
Arches National Park, I looked ahead towards
the ridge. There I saw two Union Pacific
Railroad locomotives pulling a trainload of
containers to the north. After noting the time,
I made plans to return and photograph the train
as it traveled toward the UMTRA disposal site in
the desert.
Two afternoons later, I waited
near Milepost 134 on Highway 191. From there, I
could see the lead engine, a
2004 GE C44AC-CTE approaching from over a
mile away. As it
pulled the hill, the entire train
disappeared behind the Redrock. Reappearing a
minute later, the lead engine entered an “S”
curve. If this were the old days, I would say
that the engines appeared to be “building
steam”. As I stood and shot photos, the
engines rapidly approached.
While standing near the edge of
the railroad right of way, an unexpected plume
of sound, heat and pollution blew me back from
my position. After receiving that
8800-horsepower blast of old energy from the
twin GE Evolution Series diesel locomotives,
almost a minute passed before I could catch my
breath. Still, as the parade of nuclear waste
bins passed my position, I reflexively snapped
more photos.
Each of the thirty-six flatcars
carried four steel-lidded bins. The two bins at
the center of each car held up to thirty-five
cubic yards and two outboard bins were larger
still. Bringing up the rear were two ancient,
exhaust encrusted locomotives. After fifteen
years of service in the Rockies, the old
diesel-electric engines could still share
the load with the newer, equally powerful
engines at head-end. Because of the extreme
weight of the mill tailing trains, pushers are
needed to help climb the initial grade. If an
average container held forty cubic yards, the
entire train carried almost 5000 cubic yards of
contaminated soil. When dumped at the disposal
site, a single trainload of contaminated soil
would fill an American football field to a depth
of about one meter.
To put the cleanup process into
perspective, consider that it will take ten to
fifteen years to complete the removal project.
That timeline assumes two trainloads per day, at
least five days per week. What might happen if a
Colorado River flood were to hit the UMTRA site
before the Moab Pile is gone? Only time will
tell.
After the train passed my
position, I jumped into my truck and headed
towards the
grade crossing at Utah Highway 313. When I
reached that spot, the lead locomotives had
already passed. I fastened my seatbelt and took
off for a spot where the tracks come close to
the highway. While taking pictures from a small
hill adjacent to the tracks, the big diesel
engines soon provided me with another blast of
hot diesel exhaust.
Traveling farther north, I
stopped at an arroyo and shot pictures of the
engines as they passed over a low bridge. My
final stop was north of
Canyonlands Field, where the unmarked
Rock Corral Road crosses the tracks. This
time I arrived well before of the train. After
passing under the highway near Canyonlands
Field, the train made wide left turn across my
field of view. As it did, I could see each car
in the thirty-nine car train. As the big diesel
electric engines approached, I moved back form
the tracks the tracks and continued shooting
pictures. The train passed my position; it was
heading down a slight grade, gaining speed on
the straightaway.
Thinking that I was smarter than
the train this time, I had positioned myself
upwind from the exhaust blast. Sounding like an
earthquake on wheels, I watched as the mighty
engines roared toward me. What I had forgotten
was the several horn-blasts required at a rail
crossing, even in the middle of nowhere. This
time, rather than an exhaust blast I endured
several
deafening blasts from the horns.
Covered with diesel soot and near
deaf from the horn blasts, I stopped chasing the
"Train of Pain". Instead, I stood between the
tracks and watched as the two 1996 GE C44AC
pusher engines disappeared down the tracks.
