The Origins of Monongahela and its Many Pronunciations

Inside Appalachia’s What’s in a Name segment explores the history and folklore of the names of Appalachian places. For the latest segment, we dug a little deeper into a debate we’ve had here in our newsroom — the origins of the name of one of our rivers — and how to pronounce it.

If you’ve ever been to Morgantown, West Virginia, you’ve probably driven over or near the Monongahela River. Some people pronounce it, Mononga-HEE-la and some people pronounce it Mononga-HAY-la. 

So, which is the correct way to say it? And where does the name originate, anyway?

Lately it came to our attention that people pronounce the name of the 130-mile river that flows from northern West Virginia to Pittsburgh, differently

“The name comes from one of several interpretations of American Indian words that I can’t pronounce for you, but which translate into place of many landslides or high banks or bluffs falling down in many places,” Kelly Bridges, public affairs officer for the Monongahela National Forest, said. The forest is named after the river.

Most people just say ‘The Mon’ when referring to the forest or river — it’s easier than saying the full 11-letter word. But if you call the Mon National Forest Service this is what you hear…

“Thank you for calling the Department of Agriculture Mononga-HEE-la National Forest.”

“I pronounce it Mononga-HAY-la. And my mom — I asked her the other day — and she says Mononga-HAY-la.”

Taira asked her coworkers, too. 

“The executive director pronounces it Mononga-HEE-la and his secretary says Mononga-HAY-la. The Cheat Ranger district ranger pronounces it Mononga-HEE-la.”

So this got us thinking, is there a right way to say the name?

Credit Kara Lofton / West Virginia Public Broadcasting
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West Virginia Public Broadcasting
A view of the Dolly Sods Wilderness Area, which is part of the Monongahela National Forest in eastern West VIrginia.

The word originates from the Lenape language — spoken by the Delaware Tribe. A tribe that likely passed through northern West Virginia and southern Pennsylvania hundreds of years ago. We spoke with Jim Rementer who is the tribe’s language director. 

“The proper Lenape pronunciation is Mo-noun-GEE-ha-la.”

But before learning the Lenape language, Jim pronounced it differently.

“I grew up in eastern Pennsylvania and I’d always heard and said Mononga-HEE-la.” 

So there’s Mo-noun-GEE-ha-la, Mononga-HEE-la…and Mononga-HAY-la, but there’s one other way people say it in southern Pennsylvania. Where the town is named after the river.

“It is Mononga-hell-uh,” resident Diana Barber said.

Let us know if there’s a name of a place in Appalachia you’re curious about, send us a tweet @InAppalachia and we might explore it. If you want to hear other What’s In A Name features, or to check out Inside Appalachia, visit the show page

One Piece at a Time: Cleaning Trash from W.Va Waterways

It is a hot, muggy day along the Monongahela river. Zoma Archambault is standing on a small, sandy beach about 10 minutes from Morgantown. It is one of the few along the river, as much of it is covered in thick brush and mud.

The beach used to be an informal camp spot. Zoma found it abandoned, with trash covering the ground in every direction. It is almost all picked up now, aside from some muddy clothes, a couple hypodermic needles and roof shingles.

The nearby stream flowing into the river erodes the dirt, exposing some of this older trash.

“Yeah there’s still trash, it’ll be eroding out for years,” Zoma says.

Toxic to Aquatic Life

In Morgantown abandoned campsites along the rivers, like the one described, are common. Over time the left-behind trash can break down and contaminate river ecosystems, which is something that concerns Zoma. He has volunteered the past year and a half cleaning these trash sites.

Credit Zoma Archambault
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Trash at one of the abandoned campsites before Zoma began cleaning. He has cleaned 100, 33- and 55-gallon bags worth of trash this year.

“I strongly don’t believe in, of course, micro plastics in the ocean – we have a tremendous problem in the world because of it,” he says.

Microplastics are the size of a sesame seed and nearly impossible to clean, according to the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration (NOAA), and they are toxic to aquatic life and birds. Microplastics can form from littered plastic products, like a grocery bag, that overtime break down into smaller and smaller pieces, eventually getting washed into our waterways. 

“Yeah, that stuff does not belong in our rivers,” Zoma says.

The sites Zoma cleans are usually hidden from the bike path, so they can go unnoticed. To get to this particular site Zoma bikes about 10 minutes from Morgantown on a paved trail, but the last stretch he points his bike down a narrow, veiled path leading into dense, green bushes.

Zoma

Zoma is unassuming. He is lanky and tall – he stands almost 6 and a half feet. He has a gray goatee and a head full of salt and pepper hair. He typically wears a pair of jeans cut off at the knees, with a loose cotton T-shirt. 

Credit Caitlin Tan / West Virginia Public Broadcasting
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West Virginia Public Broadcasting
Zoma near the banks of the Monongahela River. He has focused most of his cleaning to the Mon River and Deckers Creek.

Zoma is always observing. While he is cleaning up abandoned camps, he often thinks about who the people were, why they had the things they did.

“The human memories and such. There’s some reason people carried that object with them,” he says.

But it is also personal for him. In the past 10 years Zoma says he has lost 25 friends to drugs and suicide, and so cleaning these sites, where people were likely suffering from addiction, is a healing process.

“So to help I think erase that so it’s not out here is also a huge reason. Just try to clear it up. And I like these places,” Zoma says. “West Virginia is a beautiful place and it doesn’t deserve to be trashed this way.”

Zoma grew up on the West Coast, but he settled in Morgantown 21 years ago.

More Needles

Zoma has seen the city grow, and in the past couple of years he has noticed more trash, and a different kind of trash. 

“These sites used to be full of beer bottles, and the transition is now to needles,” Zoma says.

Credit Caitlin Tan / West Virginia Public Broadcasting
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West Virginia Public Broadcasting
Hypodermic needles Zoma found along the Monongahela River. Zoma says he has noticed more needles at abandoned campsites in recent years.

And this is a trend other organizations have noticed too, Jonathan Suite operations manager for Friends of Deckers Creek, says. Deckers Creek is an almost 25-mile-long tributary of the Monongahela River that flows through Morgantown. 

“We come in with tongs and a sharps container and get rid of them. They are definitely common and it’s really unfortunate,” Jonathon says.

Friends of Deckers Creek dedicates a lot of time to cleaning up trash along the waterway. Just a couple weeks ago Jonathan cleaned up a site with a mattress pad, clothing and blankets. He says the trash is a river ecosystem hazard.

“It’s bad for all the aquatic life in the creek. And when you have a clean area I feel like people are less likely to dump there, as opposed to if it’s already a really nasty, trash-filled area,” he says.

And that is Zoma’s thinking too. The first site he cleaned was in Morgantown at Whitmore Park last year. There were over 300 hypodermic needles, three tents, several futons and other trash completely covering the grass.

“I remember returning like two weeks later just hoping somebody else had cleaned this up and nobody had,” Zoma says.

The Clean-up Process

Zoma attached a small trailer to his bike – which he calls ‘Big Red’ – and loaded up shovels, rakes, garbage bags and a machete for the thick brush. He began cleaning Whitemore Park a year and a half ago. 

Credit Caitlin Tan / West Virginia Public Broadcasting
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West Virginia Public Broadcasting
Zoma’s bike ‘Big Red.’ He attaches a trailer to Big Red to bring supplies to and from trash cleanup sites.

“We had to load stuff up on tarps to drag it out, like all the bedding. We couldn’t put that in bags, and we just made giant mounds of clothes. Mounds of clothes. It was amazing,” he says.

A lot of the sites Zoma cleans alone, but friends occasionally come and help haul the trash bags away. 

Zoma uses 33- and 55-gallon size trash bags. Just this year he has filled 100. 

He likes to document the sites, taking before and after photos and videos and posting them to Facebook.

Barbies, Teddy Bears, Chocolate Milk Bottles

Zoma especially likes to document sites when there is an excessive amount of trash or unique items left behind, which was the case with his most recent clean-up site.

It is still on the Monongahela River, and it is roughly the size of half a football field, with overgrown trees creating almost a roof. 

“Well this place is not perfect yet, but I tell you one thing is missing and that’s 25 bags of trash,” Zoma says.

There is still some work to do. But Zoma has gathered all the remaining trash into piles. 

Credit Caitlin Tan / West Virginia Public Broadcasting
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West Virginia Public Broadcasting
Some trash left behind at an abandoned campsite along the Monongahela River. At this site, Zoma found 40 teddy bears.

There is a Disney princess backpack, a Barbie with blonde hair, a chocolate milk bottle, Haines underwear and a moldy, medium-sized, brown teddy bear. 

“I’ll remove it sooner than later, or later than sooner. Not too sure,” he says.

There were 40 teddy bears that Zoma already threw out. 

Originally he had only found two hypodermic needles at this site, but as he is talking Zoma uses a stick to rustle around in the dead leaves. Ultimately he finds 18 needles within one square foot. 

Credit Zoma Archambault
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Some of the teddy bears Zoma found. He says he likes to imagine why people had these things at one point in time.

“Well, so much for that,” he says.

Zoma uses the chocolate milk bottle to carry the needles out. 

Cleaning in the Water

Primarily Zoma picks up trash on the banks of the rivers, but he does do some trash clean up in the water. He has focused mostly on Decker’s Creek.

“It amazes me just how shredded the plastic bags will be. It’s already working its way to be microplastic and it hasn’t even hit the major rivers yet,” Zoma says.

He has found bicycles, grocery carts, parts of bridges, furniture, old railroad ties and a lot of old coal slag.

Zoma uses a four-prong hook to pull out larger trash. The hook is about the size of a tennis ball. 

“It’s a grappling hook. It’s what I use to pull grocery carts out of the river,” he says.

But for smaller, magnetic trash, he uses a powerful magnet that is about the size of a grapefruit.

He walks along the banks of Decker’s Creek with the magnet. A big thunder head is rolling in.

The magnet is attached to a long rope, which allows him to throw it in the river and reel it back in. Kind of like fishing.

“This is 65 feet of rope – I can throw the whole thing,” Zoma says.

Credit Caitlin Tan / West Virginia Public Broadcasting
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West Virginia Public Broadcasting
Zoma tosses his magnet into Deckers Creek. He has pulled grocery carts, bikes, old railroad ties and coal slag out of the creek.

The water is dark, and Zoma has cleaned up this location before. He does not expect to catch anything.

“There’s something on there. It’s a steel ring of some sort,” Zoma says.

He puts the little bit of slag and metal he finds in a yellow bucket. He’ll throw it out later. 

There are hundreds of miles of waterways just in Monongalia County. Trash could potentially be everywhere. Even the spots Zoma has cleaned, eventually get re-trashed — he says it is almost expected. 

But, standing back on the banks of the Monongahela River, at one of his cleanup sites, Zoma smiles, looking at a beach that was once covered in trash. He is proud of the work he has done. 

This story is part of an Inside Appalachia episode exploring some of Appalachia’s most unique destinations, on the water and beneath the water. Click here to listen. 

Water Filtration System in West Virginia Among the Elite

A raft of garbage covers a swath of the Monongahela River in northern West Virginia, a dozen miles upstream from the drinking water intake for 100,000 people.

Old tires, damaged toys, algae, oil drums, sticks and other refuse have crowded against the dam for so long that weeds sprout from them. Stuck against the spillway, the trash spans a football field’s length from one bank to the other and spreads almost 30 yards upstream.

But the filth is no match for the Robert B. Creel Water Treatment Facility in Morgantown. The publicly owned plant routinely turns the dirty water into drinking water that far exceeds federal and state health standards, an approach that sets it apart from most systems in the U.S., according to the American Water Works Association. In addition to being safe, it won the association’s award for best-tasting West Virginia water in 2016.

It’s not cheap. The raw water from the Monongahela is treated in a system that was upgraded four years ago with a $40 million municipal bond. The project increased production capacity in Morgantown, the home of West Virginia University and one of the few areas in the state that’s been growing and water demand is projected to keep rising.

About 150 miles away is Charleston, where in 2014 a leaking chemical tank left about 300,000 people without water for roughly nine days. Even if a spill like that happened near Morgantown, its elite system wouldn’t have been able to filter out the chemical that spilled into the Elk River and fouled Charleston’s drinking water. But it does have sensors upstream that may have detected that something was amiss when the chemical leak started and could’ve closed its intake earlier, perhaps preventing people from losing their drinking water for days.

“From a health standpoint, Morgantown is going to be way better off than most utilities,” said Rob Renner, of the Water Research Foundation in Denver. “These membranes take more of the risk out.”

Renner is talking about membranes with microscopic openings that block most pathogens at the Morgantown facility.

That doesn’t mean the water elsewhere is unsafe to drink. It just has less assurance that it’s been properly filtered, so the risk that it contains contaminants is higher. Private utilities are reluctant to upgrade their systems the same way because of cost and regulations don’t require it. Morgantown was different because it’s publicly owned, and when its system needed to upgrade, engineers thought about safety and then the bottom line.

“I wish that would take hold in other places,” said Angie Rosser, of the West Virginia Rivers Coalition. “They’re showing their customers they are going above and beyond and instilling that confidence that we haven’t regained in Charleston.”

The disaster in Charleston spurred many utilities into action as they realized they couldn’t take clean drinking water for granted. West Virginia American Water in Charleston said it continued upgrading its source water monitoring and analysis last year and will add storage tanks and replace water mains in $29 million of system upgrades this year. It uses gravel, sand and charcoal filters.

The Morgantown board in December 2015 was the first system in West Virginia to publish its source water protection plan, required by state law after the Charleston spill, listing more than 16,000 potential sources of significant contaminants, including nearly 12,000 above ground storage tanks, about 2,000 abandoned mine lands and about 1,200 Marcellus Shale natural gas wells.

Under the Safe Drinking Water Act and 19 major regulations since the 1970s, drinking water systems have spent about $5 billion on upgrades to comply, Renner said. If every surface water treatment plant in the U.S. were to add membrane filtration like the one Morgantown has, it would probably cost billions of dollars, he said.

West Virginia’s Bureau of Public Health requires all the water systems for more than 1.5 million customers to test for many contaminants. The bureau issued almost 5,000 violation letters last year, though none to Morgantown. The bureau also sent out 26 permit suspension warning letters, with 11 permits temporarily suspended.

Patrick Murphy, environmental engineering director for the state, said 33 administrative orders setting timelines for fixing multiple violations were issued last year, representing 3 percent of the systems. “Generally the systems in West Virginia are doing well,” he said.

But the challenges from pollution are significant.

The Monongahela, which empties into the Ohio River at Pittsburgh, is on the West Virginia Department of Environmental Protection’s list of “impaired” waterways. Garbage is a minor culprit. The leading polluter is fecal coliform, mostly from human waste. Next is iron, often from mining. Most lakes and many smaller streams lack enough data to tell if they’re impaired.

Engineers at the Morgantown treatment plant face mine drainage, bacteria, sewage, fertilizer, chemicals and other waste and pollution in the Monongahela.

After the waste enters quarter-inch intake screens tilted slightly downstream, the river water is pumped into sediment settling tanks, then through six levels of gravel and sand filters and then through the membranes. Chlorine, lime, carbon, alum and potassium permanganate are added to help purify the water, but closely monitored to try to limit the minute chemical byproducts of disinfection, some considered carcinogens.

Control room operators constantly monitor 2,000 data points by computers with alarms if they exceed normal parameters, treatment and production manager Greg Shellito said. They sample water throughout the system, and in his 30 years, have never had to issue a boil notice, he said.

“In this industry you have to be 100 percent correct 100 percent of the time,” plant manager Mike Anderson said. “What you do in this business is public health.”

Efforts to Save the Cheat River Clearer

The Cheat River flows pale green and slate gray, glistening in the sunshine as it gathers speed, turns to whitewater and drops between rocks on the way toward the Monongahela River. From there it makes its way to the Ohio River and the drinking water of millions of people.

As West Virginia pushes toward an uncertain economic future, a river that once flowed bright orange charts a course out of mining’s toxic legacies.

The state recently joined conservationists to protect the Cheat’s eight-mile whitewater canyon, collectively buying 3,800 acres from timber investors for $7 million. A new $8 million water treatment plant next year should help alleviate ongoing acid drainage from an abandoned underground coal mine that blew out in 1994, spewing acid and metals.

“In the East, it’s a rare opportunity where you get to protect eight river miles along an area that not only has tremendous biodiversity but also has a lot of recreational opportunities available,” said the Nature Conservancy’s Keith Fisher, a biologist.

Even with President-elect Donald Trump promising a coal industry comeback, most West Virginians have adapted to a world in which other economic engines are needed to revive one of the nation’s poorest states. The two-decade effort to reclaim the Cheat River and its tributaries fits into a broader push to grow tourism in West Virginia, where visitors already spend about $4.5 billion annually.

“Our tourism possibilities in this state are limitless,” Governor-elect Jim Justice said during the campaign. An outdoorsman and mine owner, he told The Associated Press after winning that he wants to protect the state’s air, water and natural beauty, saying it can co-exist with coal.

The Cheat also has a more tangible connection to West Virginia’s coal legacy. Like many waterways in coal-producing states, it remains threatened by mine drainage that turns water acidic.

The state Department of Environmental Protection calls the acidification of waterways coal’s “biggest environmental problem,” affecting hundreds of miles of West Virginia rivers and streams, usually from abandoned mines where those who caused it are long gone. The agency says the Monongahela, Tug Fork, North Branch of the Potomac and several other rivers have all been affected.

The Cheat is clear to the bottom and shallow in November, unlike the spring surge that rises above boulders and draws peak-season rafters and kayakers down the canyon. Its steep walls are lined with hardwoods, oaks, hickories and maples still dropping amber leaves. The water remains high enough to carry small boats.

Part of the 330-mile Allegheny Trail runs parallel for eight miles, high on the river’s east rim. The narrow, grassy former logging tract was once designated for a rail line. Now it’s reopened to hikers, fishermen and hunters and closed to all-terrain vehicles. Commercial rafters never stopped using their rights to a navigable waterway, though they lost business after the blowout.

“Cheat River is so much better than it used to be,” said Doug Wood, a retired state biologist. “As a drinking water source it’s much better than it was before.”

Downstream drinking water systems all have to treat their intake from the rivers for bacteria and other contaminants, some more extensively.

Its acidity was toxic to virtually all aquatic life after the 1994 mine blowout released massive drainage outflows into a tributary, Muddy Creek.

“The Cheat was already a pretty severely polluted river,” said Randy Robinson, then a rafting guide who was on it shortly after the blowout and remembers the nasty, sulfurous smell. “It was like orange paint had been dumped in the river in a way.”

The orange coating on the rocks from iron hydroxide, which persisted for years, has disappeared. The acid levels have been sharply reduced through dozens of water-treatment projects, proven by both testing and the abundance of freshwater fish in Cheat Lake, a downstream river impoundment that has attracted an enclave of upscale homes and townhouses outside Morgantown.

According to Wood, acid drainage is a fairly predictable matter of coal geology, where the nearby rock also contains iron disulfide. With mining, it will produce iron hydroxide and sulfuric acid when combined with oxygen and water that eventually finds a path down and out.

“The problems with the Cheat should have educated our permitting agencies, a long time ago, to prevent them from issuing permits that are going to result in perpetual acid mine drainage,” Wood said. He said that hasn’t happened. Restoring an affected waterway afterward requires costly, active treatment, he said.

The state permitting agency said it does consider geology among many factors. Permits aren’t approved unless an operation is deemed to meet all federal and state legal requirements, spokeswoman Kelley Gillenwater said.

Amanda Pitzer, executive director of Friends of the Cheat, volunteers who monitor and work on its restoration, said the pH level, which is neutral at 7, dropped to toxic 3 and 4 after the blowout.

The Muddy Creek tributary looks milky green now, still showing effects of drainage that also includes aluminum. The creek, though improved, still has no fish.

David McCoy, a state engineer, said 3.4 miles of Muddy Creek still usually test acidic, and the Cheat itself now tests neutral. The new filtration system will use two 80-foot clarifiers, a 100-ton silo and hydrated lime to counter the acidity and capture the sludge of metals that settle out. That sludge will be piped to an injection well underground at a higher elevation.

The Nature Conservancy emphasizes a “pragmatic” approach, working with businesses to promote best practices for limiting environmental impact. The economics of the transition from West Virginia’s post-mining economy can’t be ignored, said Fisher, the state chapter’s director of conservation, and should include recreation and land and water restoration.

All of that brings him back to the big question he and others are trying to answer. Standing on the trail, high above the softly rumbling river, he said it’s about the transition from a coal-dependent economy to something else: “How do you make conservation and economic diversity work together?”

Lock Agreement to Make Mon River More Accessible

Recreational boaters can travel the Upper Monongahela River without hindrance for the first time in several years.

The U.S. Army Corps of Engineers agreed to reopen the Opekiska and Hildebrand locks for recreational use. The locks will be open from 7 a.m. to 4 p.m. on weekends for a total of 18 days during the summer.

The corps also has opened the Morgantown Lock on weekends.

The Dominion Post reports that the agreement between the corps, the Upper Monongahela River Association and the Monongalia County Commission will make the river more accessible.

The corps closed the Opekiska and Hildebrand locks to recreational use in 2012 because of budget cuts. The Morgantown Lock previously was closed on weekends.

State Investigates Sheen on Monongahela River in Fairmont

  State environmental regulators are investigating a sheen on the Monongahela River in Fairmont.

The Department of Environmental Protection tells media outlets that the substance appeared to be petroleum based.

The DEP says the substance won’t affect Fairmont’s water supply. The city’s water intake is upstream on the Tygart Valley River.

Morgantown’s water intake is about 15 to 20 miles downstream. The DEP says the Morgantown Utility Board’s water intake is too deep to be affected, since petroleum based substances float on the water’s surface.

The sheen was sighted Saturday. The DEP says no industry or business has reported a spill.

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