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December 1, 2003PRESERVING MICHIGAN'S WATERSBickering over wetlands leaves housing project in limboBy JOHN FLESHERAssociated Press Writer ELK RAPIDS, Mich. (AP) - Greg Reisig was mystified a couple of winters ago when one dump truck after another rumbled past his house in this quiet Lake Michigan village. When the environmental activist found out what they were up to, curiosity gave way to outrage. The trucks were hauling clay from the municipal harbor bottom, which had been dredged because of low water, to a site on the edge of town, across the street from the lakefront. Eastwood Custom Homes, owned by developer Bill Clous, was planning to build a 24-house subdivision there. The spoils were supposed to be deposited in a landfill. Instead, they were being used to fill wetlands on the Clous property. State and local officials approved the diversion requested by Clous' company but didn't consult the federal government, which the village manager acknowledged was an oversight. Reisig and other environmentalists protested, setting in motion a tangled conflict that has left the construction project, known as Elk Rapids Preserve, in limbo. Not a single house has been built. "It's cost us two and a half years of life and a huge amount of money," Clous said. "I can't imagine that we could ever hope to have a profit off this project." Reisig is unsympathetic, saying Clous should have sought wetland development permits before getting started. "There are plenty of places where he could buy land and develop it without any problems," Reisig said. "Why he always goes for wetlands is beyond me." Clous says he doesn't need permits for the subdivision, the same argument he makes about his embattled land-clearing effort in neighboring Grand Traverse County. But this time, he is not claiming a farming exemption. He believes the Preserve site has no wetlands under government jurisdiction. State and federal regulations have criteria for determining whether a wetland qualifies for legal protection. But, as the Elk Rapids case shows, there is room for disagreement. The Clean Water Act of 1972 gives the federal government authority over "waters of the United States." That includes wetlands adjacent to navigable waterways, say regulations and court rulings. Michigan law, meanwhile, places under state control wetlands within 1,000 feet of the Great Lakes. The Preserve site has wetlands as close as 680 feet to Lake Michigan, according to the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers. Even so, a state Department of Environmental Quality official ruled in 1997 the state agency had no jurisdiction and no permit was needed to develop the site - primarily because there was no apparent surface water link between its wetlands and the lake. A private firm retained by Eastwood reported last year the property had one small wetland, but it was outside where the houses would be located. Federal authorities, alerted by environmentalists after the harbor clay was dumped at the Preserve site, saw it differently. In spring 2002, the Army Corps determined the would-be subdivision area did contain wetlands, directly linked to Lake Michigan by a culvert and ditch, and ordered the village to remove the fill material. The Environmental Protection Agency then declared the Preserve wetlands under federal jurisdiction, meaning Eastwood needed a permit to develop the property. Clous has appealed the Army Corps findings to the divisional office in Cincinnati, saying his company is caught in a squabble between state and federal agencies. It's unfair to require a permit now when the company was told years ago none was needed, said Jim Williams, Eastwood administrative manager and a partner in the Preserve project. "There was an error, apparently, but who's being held accountable for it? We are," he said. Others say Eastwood was given fair warning. The Army Corps notified the company as far back as 1999 the site contained regulated wetlands, said Mary Anderson, a Detroit-based Army Corps biologist who conducted the inspection last year. It's uncertain how long the battle will go on. But LaVern Wolfgram, who lives just outside the Preserve property, hopes it ends with restoration of the wetlands, which attracted deer, turkeys and even passing foxes before they were filled. "It was wide-open, peaceful ... sort of tundra-like, with low-growth plants, the way you'd expect Alaska to look," said Wolfgram, a science teacher. "It was just what anybody would like to have in their back yard." |
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