U.S. Water News Online
RICHMOND, Va. -- About 40 of the 500 state-regulated dams in Virginia need repairs, which could total $20 to $40 million. The safety benchmark is the ability to withstand a 'probable maximum storm,' which could hit every 500 to 10,000 years . . . or tomorrow.
If a flood swamped the Lake Shawnee Dam in eastern Powhatan County, Bill Dunbar's home could get swept away -- perhaps with Dunbar in it.
Dunbar's house sits, literally, in the path of the dam's emergency spillway, the area below the dam where floodwater would go if the main spillway couldn't handle the flow.
Dunbar didn't know his predicament until Jonathan T. Phillippe, Virginia's dam-safety director, knocked on the door of his modest, gray frame home recently and told him.
Dunbar, a 59-year-old farmer, said he wasn't concerned, even though a storm about 15 years ago pushed water within 10 feet of his house.
"The water won't ever get in here," he said.
"I wouldn't be too sure about that," Phillippe replied.
If water did sweep through the house, Dunbar said, he would stay with a relative on high land.
As he walked away, Phillippe, a 62-year-old civil engineer, said that Dunbar knew his chances now.
"He's willing to take that risk," Phillippe said. "That's OK."
Dunbar's situation is one example of a host of problems troubling Virginia's dams, and people below them. Consider:
No state or federal law -- and as far as Phillippe can tell, no local law requires people to be told they are living, or buying a house, in a potentially dangerous spot below a dam.
Many people live so far below a dam they don't even see it -- or know it threatens them.
Virginia regulates approximately 500 dams -- about 40 don't meet state standards. The state is working with the owners to bring the dams into compliance. The dams need work totaling $20 million to $40 million. In some cases, people live in jeopardy below the dams.
A law passed by the 2001 General Assembly will put about 800 unregulated dams under state supervision July 1. The law was designed to make state regulations conform to federal guidelines. Virginia trailed bordering states in changing the rules, according to Phillippe.
These dams are owned by homeowners' associations, local governments and individuals -- parties that typically don't have a lot of money.
Within this group, the dams in worst shape probably need $5,000 to $8,000 of work, primarily to cut trees and shrubs that grow into earthen dams and weaken them.
When dams break, they can be deadly and costly. In 1995, torrential rains burst the Timberlake Dam in Campbell County, killing two people downstream in the flooding. The lake, which was state-regulated and in good shape, was rebuilt at a cost of nearly $1 million.
Residents of Timberlake -- a middle-class community with a lot of retirees -- paid for the work themselves, said Craig Brewer, president of the Timberlake Homeowners' Association.
During Hurricane Floyd in 1999, floods broke open at least 12 dams in eastern Virginia. One of those failures, at the Cow Creek Dam near Gloucester, temporarily closed state Route 14. Rebuilding the dam cost about $160,000. All those dams were unregulated. No one was hurt.
In one of the worst cases in recent memory, the Buffalo Creek dam in West Virginia collapsed in 1972, releasing coal waste and killing more than 100 people.
Ron Hamm, Virginia's secretary of natural resources, said Virginia has several dams that need fixing, yet few people get worked up over dam safety until a tragedy occurs.
"It's sort of like terrorism two years ago," Hamm said.
Tools such as improved computer simulations helped Virginia officials discover problems at many dams in just the past two years, Phillippe said.
Virginia's most dangerous dams are among those the state has regulated for years. Tops on the list is probably the 43-foot-tall Big Cherry Dam, owned by Big Stone Gap in Southwest Virginia and located just north of the town.
Concrete in the dam is deteriorating. Studies show the dam may fail in a "probable maximum storm." That term, a benchmark in dam safety, means a storm so huge it might occur just once every 500 to 10,000 years.
Or, it could hit tomorrow.
Hurricane Floyd, which dropped about 24 inches of rain on the Franklin area in about 30 hours, was nearly half of a probable maximum storm.
Phillippe said a probable maximum storm "is a big storm, but it's a very realizable storm, and that's what worries me."
When a big storm approaches, people below potentially dangerous dams are alerted and may be told to evacuate, Phillippe said. Still, some people might refuse to go, or they could miss the alert.
If a huge flood hit the Big Cherry Dam, Phillippe said, "There are people downstream who could be swept away."
The Summit Dam near Winchester poses another problem. The dam's main spillway isn't large enough to pass a lot of water in a big storm. That means water could rush across the top of the earthen dam, eroding it and causing it to burst.
That nearly happened in 1972, when water from Hurricane Agnes rose almost to the top of the 102-foot dam.
"People live immediately downstream, and development pressure is coming that way, so we are concerned about getting that dam fixed," Phillippe said. "It is a serious situation." The dam is owned by the Lake Holiday Country Club, a homeowners' association.
The third most-dangerous dam is the Marrowbone Creek Dam near Martinsville. It is owned by a Soil and Water Conservation District. A big storm could erode the emergency spillway, causing the earthen dam to break, Phillippe said. The dam needs about $1.5 million worth of work. About $750,000 has been budgeted.
Soil and water districts are funded primarily by the state. They own and operate dams across the state, mainly for flood control.
Altogether, about 10 of the districts' dams are deficient. Earlier last month, a legislative study panel endorsed a bond proposal that includes about $10 million for the dams. Repairs won't be so expensive at dams the state starts regulating next year. But for those who are affected, the work can still be painful.
Lower Beaver Pond sits in the Bexley and Bexley West communities in Chesterfield County. Madeline Loving, a high-school English teacher who lives on the lake, was surprised when Phillippe showed up and told her some shrubs on the lake's 23-foot-tall dam would have to be cut.
Loving pointed out a 15-foot-tall holly tree on the dam. Phillippe said it may have to go, too.
"That makes me feel a little disappointed," Loving said. "I love that tree."
One of Phillippe's biggest concerns is that people are building homes below dams without knowing it.
"There is no law requiring disclosure that you are downstream from a dam and no law preventing anyone from building in a dam-breech area," Phillippe said.
"I think that's a risk people at least should be aware of. I think people should have every right to take every risk they want. I'm a libertarian when it comes to that. But I think people should take informed risks."
Some dams, such as those forming the 120-acre Woodland Pond in Chesterfield and the 35-acre Beattie's Mill Lake in Hanover County, are of concern because roads just below them could be washed out should the dams fail. (Woodland Pond is in good shape; the Beattie's Mill Dam needs work.)
Phillippe's office is planning to put dam information on a database that local planners can consult while guiding development.
It's easy for people to get into a "dry-weather mentality" -- not realizing how dangerous a flood can be, Phillippe said
That kind of thinking, he said, can be deadly.
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