Article in the St. Petersburg Times, Floridian Section today. For those of you in other areas, check your local PBS listings, the film should air throughout FL and nationwide in the month of October
One of the most scenic rivers in Florida starts, in a way, in a filthy puddle behind a Wal-Mart amid junked shopping carts and other debris.
That's the sobering message of tonight's one-hour PBS presentation of the documentary Water's Journey: The River Returns, which meanders like the river from spectacular vistas into urban culverts and storm sewers. It's a fascinating 310-mile journey following the St. Johns River as it flows north from its headwaters in a wide, swampy area north of the Everglades to its mouth east of Jacksonville. It's also a stern reminder that Florida's delicate environment starts at our back door.
Marked by amazing photography, much of it shot in cramped underwater caves, the starkly simple style of Water's Journey and the clear message make the Florida-produced film as much an unexpected pleasure as a hidden spring along the St. Johns.
"We really wanted to connect people with how beautiful the natural water resources in Florida really are," producer Jill Heinerth said. "Traditionally, people used to think they only were affected by rivers if they lived on their banks ... We all live in a watershed."
Speaking by telephone from her home office north of Gainesville, Heinerth said she considers herself a filmmaker first, but her resume reveals she is as much adventurer or explorer as film producer. Her work exploring caves - above and below the surface - earned her a fellowship with the National Speleological Society and a spot in the Women Divers Hall of Fame.
The two loves, film and exploration, come together in Water's Journey. Heinerth, fellow producer Wes Skiles and their crew exhibit a sense of fun and excitement reminiscent of early Jacques Cousteau productions. There are beautiful photos, scary moments and lots of gee-whiz gear, including speedy airboats and a pair of inflatable boats hooked to experimental aircraft wings.
Though the dicey scenes of tiny, overloaded airplanes, high-speed marsh running and claustrophobic cave diving are gripping, there are lessons as well.
First of all, we live in a beautiful state. That's easy to forget when you're slogging through interstate traffic on the way to work. Sometimes, it's hard to remember the crashing waves, the clear springs and the inland expanse of swamps, lakes and rivers. Florida is more than concrete and shopping malls.
The other lesson is that all of this beauty is at our mercy. Because people and nature live in such close proximity across the peninsula, "downstream" is sometimes right under our feet.
An urban spelunking adventure with Heinerth and crew brings that lesson home. As she kayaks up a river tributary to its source, Heinerth marvels as swamp gives way to subdivision. Paddling past manicured lawns, it becomes clear that yard fertilizer spills every day into the St. Johns through tributaries. And a bit farther upstream, when the water disappears into a huge, concrete culvert pipe, Heinerth gets out of her boat and starts walking, into the pipe and under city streets.
Heinerth said her team found it easier to ask forgiveness than permission when it came to some of the underground adventures, but their impromptu urban exploration highlights how directly and simply connected Florida's grand rivers are to city streets.
As she and fellow explorer Tom Morris slosh and crawl through sludge, cars pass overhead and road dirt, oil drippings and trash line the bottom of the pipe.
Then the quest ends in that ditch filled with junk behind a Wal-Mart near Altamonte Springs. Heinerth's point is that the tributary is one of many that feed the St. Johns, and each one is, in a way, part of the river's headwaters.
Heinerth looks dismayed as she surveys the mess: "This is a prime example of how people just don't get it. ... They could just as easily throw this directly in the river, it's getting there."
Morris adds: "Most people, I don't think, would throw this stuff in the main river itself, but a lot of them come over here and dump this stuff in these little tributaries."
Heinerth said she tried to focus on solutions in the film, underscoring the direct connection between urban centers and wild rivers while suggesting residents and developers work together to eliminate Florida's river system's biggest pollutant: fertilizer.
"As filmmakers, we feel very strongly about giving people solutions," Heinerth said. "I'm an eternal optimist."
CLEANSING THE WATERS
Jill Heinerth and Karst Productions offer tips to help protect Florida's rivers.
Get involved:Encourage city officials to protect groundwater and springs and to enact runoff control programs.
At home: Use fertilizer and pesticides sparingly; use time-release fertilizer; incorporate native plants that need less care; replace gas-powered yard tools with electric or manual.
At work: Use paper labeled "chlorine free"; fix leaky toilets; properly dispose of hazardous waste.
For more, visit Web sites associated with the production, www.theriverreturns.org and www.watersjourney.com
One of the most scenic rivers in Florida starts, in a way, in a filthy puddle behind a Wal-Mart amid junked shopping carts and other debris.
That's the sobering message of tonight's one-hour PBS presentation of the documentary Water's Journey: The River Returns, which meanders like the river from spectacular vistas into urban culverts and storm sewers. It's a fascinating 310-mile journey following the St. Johns River as it flows north from its headwaters in a wide, swampy area north of the Everglades to its mouth east of Jacksonville. It's also a stern reminder that Florida's delicate environment starts at our back door.
Marked by amazing photography, much of it shot in cramped underwater caves, the starkly simple style of Water's Journey and the clear message make the Florida-produced film as much an unexpected pleasure as a hidden spring along the St. Johns.
"We really wanted to connect people with how beautiful the natural water resources in Florida really are," producer Jill Heinerth said. "Traditionally, people used to think they only were affected by rivers if they lived on their banks ... We all live in a watershed."
Speaking by telephone from her home office north of Gainesville, Heinerth said she considers herself a filmmaker first, but her resume reveals she is as much adventurer or explorer as film producer. Her work exploring caves - above and below the surface - earned her a fellowship with the National Speleological Society and a spot in the Women Divers Hall of Fame.
The two loves, film and exploration, come together in Water's Journey. Heinerth, fellow producer Wes Skiles and their crew exhibit a sense of fun and excitement reminiscent of early Jacques Cousteau productions. There are beautiful photos, scary moments and lots of gee-whiz gear, including speedy airboats and a pair of inflatable boats hooked to experimental aircraft wings.
Though the dicey scenes of tiny, overloaded airplanes, high-speed marsh running and claustrophobic cave diving are gripping, there are lessons as well.
First of all, we live in a beautiful state. That's easy to forget when you're slogging through interstate traffic on the way to work. Sometimes, it's hard to remember the crashing waves, the clear springs and the inland expanse of swamps, lakes and rivers. Florida is more than concrete and shopping malls.
The other lesson is that all of this beauty is at our mercy. Because people and nature live in such close proximity across the peninsula, "downstream" is sometimes right under our feet.
An urban spelunking adventure with Heinerth and crew brings that lesson home. As she kayaks up a river tributary to its source, Heinerth marvels as swamp gives way to subdivision. Paddling past manicured lawns, it becomes clear that yard fertilizer spills every day into the St. Johns through tributaries. And a bit farther upstream, when the water disappears into a huge, concrete culvert pipe, Heinerth gets out of her boat and starts walking, into the pipe and under city streets.
Heinerth said her team found it easier to ask forgiveness than permission when it came to some of the underground adventures, but their impromptu urban exploration highlights how directly and simply connected Florida's grand rivers are to city streets.
As she and fellow explorer Tom Morris slosh and crawl through sludge, cars pass overhead and road dirt, oil drippings and trash line the bottom of the pipe.
Then the quest ends in that ditch filled with junk behind a Wal-Mart near Altamonte Springs. Heinerth's point is that the tributary is one of many that feed the St. Johns, and each one is, in a way, part of the river's headwaters.
Heinerth looks dismayed as she surveys the mess: "This is a prime example of how people just don't get it. ... They could just as easily throw this directly in the river, it's getting there."
Morris adds: "Most people, I don't think, would throw this stuff in the main river itself, but a lot of them come over here and dump this stuff in these little tributaries."
Heinerth said she tried to focus on solutions in the film, underscoring the direct connection between urban centers and wild rivers while suggesting residents and developers work together to eliminate Florida's river system's biggest pollutant: fertilizer.
"As filmmakers, we feel very strongly about giving people solutions," Heinerth said. "I'm an eternal optimist."
CLEANSING THE WATERS
Jill Heinerth and Karst Productions offer tips to help protect Florida's rivers.
Get involved:Encourage city officials to protect groundwater and springs and to enact runoff control programs.
At home: Use fertilizer and pesticides sparingly; use time-release fertilizer; incorporate native plants that need less care; replace gas-powered yard tools with electric or manual.
At work: Use paper labeled "chlorine free"; fix leaky toilets; properly dispose of hazardous waste.
For more, visit Web sites associated with the production, www.theriverreturns.org and www.watersjourney.com
