17 May 2009
 
Decarlia Reservation

 
(The Decarlia Water Treatment Facility, Washington, DC)
 
“You know,” I said. “If that guy in the Post actually did visit the sites of all forty District Stones on a Sunday, he was trespassing on Army Corps of Engineers land. This reservoir provides the drinking water for the District, Arlington and Fall’s Church. It is a sensitive area. I hope the Corps doesn’t prosecute.
 
Jason and I were lost on the Decarlia campus of the Army Corps of Engineers, and the Bluesmobile was gliding past a sign that announced “No personally owned vehicles.”
 
Being disorganized on a Federal Homeland Security Reservation is not what I would do in these perilous times, nor encourage others. Which is why we went through the hassle during the working week, contacting the cognizant officials and arranging for official escort.
 
Jason shares my quirky curiosity for things left behind agreed to accompany me, and it is important to have a voyage partner on these adventures, since it can get weird out there.
 
He is a young executive of impeccable demeanor that belies his predilection for odd history and strange places. I noted that despite our shared derangement, we both had sensible shoes.
 
Security at the gate to the Decarlia Treatment Plant at 5900 Macarthur Avenue was tight but quirky. A young guard insisted on scanning our driver’s licenses and we were issued grainy credentials on sticky-backed paper.
 
I have seen security in my time, including that which goes along with the protection of nuclear weapons, and the ritual at the gate was formulaic. After all, this is the drinking water for the great city, and a terrorist target that has been mentioned more than once.
 
After being chased down by a security truck we were united with Sandi, the engineering department's collateral duty Public Affairs Officer, and Carl, an engineering tech who was happy to be out of the windowless tower where his drawings and schematics are kept.
 
Sandy was bubbly and pert, and Carl a friendly and expansive man with a soft voice and an intense interest in the history of the place where he works.
 
Sandi had thought we were only there to see NW 4, the first District Boundary Stone on the east side of the Potomac, counting them as the original Ellicott survey party placed them in 1792.
 
Carl helpfully produced Xeroxed pictures of our targets, including an image of a stone that we were not looking for. It read “W.A.” on the side, and he had nearly sprained his ankle stepping on it in the thick undergrowth up by the Cbain John Bridge.
 
I had no idea what it was, not then, and should have run for the car while I had the chance. Sandi escorted us to our first target in a picnic area behind the Admin tower. If it were not smack in the middle of a Federal Reservation, NW 4 would be easy to visit. As it is, you can only see if from the fence line of the Capital Crescent trail, built on the abandoned rail-bed of the Georgetown Branch of the B&O Railroad.
 
Maybe that is what the guy in the Post article did. He sure as hell could not hop the fence on the weekend without having Homeland Security and the Army all over his butt.
 
Jason pointed out that an agile young man could drop down from the overpass of the trail that cuts across the property, but I thought that a rope would be necessary to get back up and the whole thing looked dicey.
 
Better to do it legally, and it is eminently satisfying to actually touch the stone.

(Jason and NW 4)
 
It is in nice shape, and Sandi said that people request to see it all the time, including the Daughter of the American Revolution’s Dolly Madison Chapter who have adopted it, and whose efforts a hundred years ago to protect the stones resulted in their salvation from the ravages of cruel urban fortune.
 
The Corps has been an excellent custodian. NW 4 is in great shape, the inscription crisp on all four sandstone sides, designating the jurisdiction, location and year.
 
Sandi was happy to help. We documented the moment, and returned to the Admin building. The tower had been the chlorinating station for the treatment plant, once upon a time, and now housed the Engineering Department Offices.
 
It was a trip all of its own, and of course led right into the Decarlia history, of which I had no clue about. The water treatment plant's existence came as part of the great Washington Aqueduct project to bring pure drinking water to the capital.
 
The city suffered from periodic outbreaks of cholera and typhoid fever, due in no small part to its situation adjacent to the slow-moving Potomac. The problem was recognized early on, since people sickened and died with appalling regularity.
 
General George C. McLellan, Lincoln’s first Army Chief was sick in 1862. This proud chlorinating tower dated to 1863, and the darkest days of the war.
 
Sandi wished is a very good day. She loves her job, and 18 years as a Department of the Army Civilian have not left a mark on her.
 
She handed Carl the keys to the white sedan to take us precisely one mile up the hill. This is government service as its absolute finest, but it was going to lead us down a rabbit hole that includes a masonry dam across the Potomac, a control gatehouse at the Great Falls, a 12 mile conduit, 11 tunnels, 6 bridges, pump stations, pipelines, and 2 reservoirs.
 
Bear with me. There is another District Stone in here, too.

Copyright 2009 Vic Socotra
www.vicsocotra.com