The Porch and the Protector: Save the River

Bridget Wright -

50 Years of Vigilance

Growing up in Chicago while spending summers on the St. Lawrence offered a jarring study in contrasts. Life in the city was a relentless race—a frantic dash for groceries, a scramble for the train, and a return to a cramped apartment where the windows offered no view and the air felt borrowed.

But life at the River began with the alchemy of the bridge crossing. The moment tires met the span, time slowed, while the vibrating hum of the climb commanded silence. The mechanical grind of the city dissolved into the rhythm of the water. Summers were defined by the "jewel" of River life: porch sitting.

It didn't have to be your own porch, though those were best. Company was nice, but often solitude was preferred. The only requirements were good seating, cold refreshments, and that hypnotizing, expansive view where the longer you gazed, the more the world made sense.

Sign for Senate Hearing in Alexandria Bay. courtesy of Save the River

In 1978, a group of porch sitters recognized a special vulnerability - Winter Navigation. This group fought a battle to stop the Army Corps of Engineers from allowing the St. Lawrence Seaway to remain open year round. During a warm July evening on Johanna Lawrenson’s porch, overlooking the very water they had just saved a collective of visionaries realized that the River required watchmen – an official organization built to protect it. They knew the River needed a voice in perpetuity. They were the Founders. They built Save The River. They were the original #TeamRiver—the protectors who fought back so that they could give back.

A Legacy of Resilience: 1976 and 2001

As we move through 2026, the Save The River team has been sifting through the archives of the River’s darkest chapter. This June 23rd marks the 50th anniversary of the NEPCO 140 oil spill. I was too young to remember the 300,000 gallons of crude oil choking the currents, but the stories of those who lived it captured in our new film, Remembering The NEPCO Oil Spill 50 Years Later, are a haunting tapestry of terror and "honorable camaraderie."

Bill Larue of Clayton, NY lifts oil coated weeds out of Alexandria Bay Harbor as crews begin to clean up the worst oil spill in the history of the Thousand Islands. [Photo courtesy of The Globe & Mail.]

When the oil hit, the porches emptied. Everyone jumped into the fray. It reminded me of the profound transformation of my fellow Chicagoans after September 11, 2001. For a few short days, the city fell silent. It wasn’t just the grounded flights; it was a sudden, collective heartbeat of national unity. Strangers became neighbors, political pettiness vanished, and a sense of protective love replaced the hustle.

That is the soul of the River. But I find myself wondering: Does it always have to take a tragedy to evoke this level of community? If we are all here because we love this water, why aren't we working with that same 9/11-level urgency to ensure the next generation can fish, swim, and porch-sit in peace?

2025-26 - Reminder of what could have been . . .

One might assume that global warming would lead to milder winters and a perpetually unfrozen River. The reality is far more treacherous. Instead of a steady thaw, we are seeing an increase in volatile, unpredictable storms.

 Iced-in Cargo ships in the St. Lawrence down river from Carleton Island in January 2026. [Photo courtesy of Carol Thomas / Angel Rock Cottages]

This winter, as polar vortexes gripped the North Country with stints of icy air and endless snow, our staff should have been thrilled. Cold and ice are the lifeblood of the River’s ecosystem. However, that awe quickly shifted to anxiety at the sight of massive commercial vessels trapped in the shifting floes.

The physics of "ice-loading" is unforgiving. When a ship is caught, it faces "nipping"—where ice floes exert immense pressure, buckling steel hulls and risking catastrophic chemical spills. Furthermore, severe ice buildup on the superstructure raises a vessel's center of gravity, risking a capsize.

Save The River was founded on the front lines of fighting winter navigation for one simple, terrifying reason: An oil spill in ice cannot be cleaned up at least without extreme difficulty and certainly not without risking the lives of first responders. The River, in all its majesty, would likely not survive a winter spill of that magnitude. Yet the Seaway will be open for business in a few short weeks and remain open until next January.

The Original #TeamRiver

This photograph depicts a Thousand Islands veranda. [This photo was a photo submission for Save the River Calendar by Catherine Mann]

Fifty years later, the River is going strong because the members of Save The River, #TeamRiver, are ensuring that it does. But it needs more allies because at every turn, there’s a new pollutant to fight or a business looking to benefit from it.

Whether you are a fisherman, a business owner, or someone who simply enjoys the "magical evening" of a sunset over the Thousand Islands, the River has given you something. It is a friend that asks for little but deserves everything. Today, as we look out from our porches, we aren't just spectators. We are the stewards of the view.

Become a protector, join the team. #TeamRiver. Visit the Save the River Website.

Note: This is a partial list of the Founders including members: Barry Freed (Abby Hoffman); Ann Gefell; Johanna Lawrenson; Tom Englehardt; Steve & Jeremy Taylor; Alix & David White; T. Menkel; and Rick Spencer.

By Bridget Wright, Executive Director, Save The River

Bridget Wright grew up in Chicago, spending her summers on Crow and Wellesley Islands until 2006, when she permanently relocated to the River. She joined Save The River in 2010 and became Executive Director in 2025.