River Colne Residency
In 2017 Maori tribes living alongside the Whangunui river in New Zealand successfully fought for it to be given the same rights in law as a human being. They considered the river to be a living being, and intrinsic to their being: “the great river flows from the mountains to the sea. I am the river, the river is me”. They had witnessed decades of damage, and by enshrining its rights in law, hoped to save the river from further pollution and over-exploitation. [1] To us in the UK, it is inconceivable to think of a river as having the same rights as a human, and to feel so connected to it that we would want to afford it the same level of protection as we would a person. Nevertheless, we do have some kind of relationship with our local rivers, whether that is positive (for recreation), negative (flooding), or utilitarian (provision of drinking water and disposal of sewage).
An early trip out to discover the start of the River Colne - it doesn’t have a single source but is the convergence of two small tributaries, Red Brook Clough and Haigh Clough (each in turn with their own tributaries), that funnel steeply down through the Pennine moorland and join a little way above Marsden. From here the river then flows some 12 miles downstream through Marsden, Slaithwaite, Linthwaite, Milnsbridge and Huddersfield to join the River Calder near Mirfield.
I’ve spent time in June walking the course of the Colne from its start, above Marsden to its end, downstream of Colnebridge. I’ve tried to stay as close to the river's edge as I can. For much of its length this is possible if one feels adventurous, and willing to risk wet feet, but it gets harder as the river flows further downstream, through more urban and industrial areas where access to the bankside is walled or fenced off, or where the river lies within the boundaries of industrial estates, factories and depots.
The Colne near Colnebridge - public access further downstream to its confluence with the River Calder is not possible
A footbridge across the Colne as it emerges from running close to a mile through Syngenta chemical works
As I’ve been walking downstream several things have struck me. One is that people like to be by the river. In many places, whilst there are no official footpaths, there are 'unofficial' tracks - through the Himalayan Balsam and mud, through little gaps between barbed wire fences and walls, down slippery slopes. So people (some people anyway....the explorers and sure-of-foot) are connected to their river as a place to be, possibly in groups, or alone.
There is also a certain juxtaposition between the Colne valley’s canals (Huddersfield Narrow, then Broad) with their flat, accessible, well-managed, sign-posted paths, and the river flowing parallel and close by, but down a level, sometimes through dense undergrowth, out of sight….where everything is more wild. In the upper reaches at least, on a baking hot day you can escape the canal-side with its silent, murky water and hustle of joggers and cyclists, and skulk off down a half-track to the river – maybe to a place where its silky flow breaks up into bubbling riffles and there is a cool, freshness to the air. You can be alone and watch a single leaf fall gracefully from a tree, and drift on by, or wait for a fish to make a gulp and watch a small ripple move out in bigger and bigger circles. What is it doing? Has it come up for air, is it trying to catch a fly? And what type of fish is it? You can let your mind wander.
A ‘wild’ stretch, downstream of Marsden
Despite our love of the river, our desire to be by it, or in it even (which I got more inclined to do), we have also tried to take command of it, and we have certainly abused it. We have constrained its course with high stone walls, engineered its flow with weirs, and occasionally built over it with dual- carriageways and factories.
A mill covers the river
River Colne flowing underneath Newsome Road, Huddersfield
Its banksides have become heavily colonised by ‘non-native invasive species’ (Himalayan Balsam and Japanese Knotweed), whilst the river itself serves as one of our waste disposal facilities - we pour our effluent into it and we throw in, or leave our rubbish behind.
Jack Hill Combined Sewer Overflow, Huddersfield
It seems we have a paradoxical relationship with the river. We love it but we also treat it in a way which ultimately alienates us from it, such that in some locations it feels like a place only those of us on the edge of society would be comfortable frequenting. What is also clear though, is that despite us, the river is always flowing, it is always on the move, and the wildlife is getting on with it, doing its best. On my journey down the river I’ve watched schools of small fry darting in the shallow water’s edge and seen many grey wagtails (most striking for their bobbing, yellow tails), several herons, and two or three kingfishers.
Fish fry, Snow Island, Huddersfield
My project continues this month with more investigation into river’s quality and river life, and a return to some specific spots to collect audio and visual material. I’m also asking the public to participate in making a large piece of visual art to cover one of the white walls in ame’s Dai Hall exhibition space.
I am on my way to the sea - re-framing litter as art: If you would like to take part over the summer (July and August 2020) all you need to do is email me (jokennedysound@gmail.com) a photo of a piece of rubbish or litter you have seen in the River Colne, and the location you saw it. Tell me your name too if you’d like to be listed as one of the contributors. Once all photos have be sent in they will be collated into one large collage – a 2020 River Colne Litter Survey re-framed as art. The piece will be called ‘I am on my way to the sea ’. The location you saw the litter in is important as the pictures will be arranged in order, from the top to bottom of the river. It is an ever-changing situation - there is a constant topping up of new litter from people's excursions to the river bank, especially in fine weather, but all the time debris that does not become too stuck in the vegetation, or embedded in the sediment is being transported downstream, especially when river levels rise in the rain. A Lucozade bottle photographed above Slaithwaite in early July could be photographed again by someone else in Colnebridge in August. A photo from your phone is fine, - as good a quality as possible, but please don’t put yourself in any danger whilst taking it!
A Lucozade bottle spotted near Slaithwaite, 17th June 2020
POSTSCRIPT
Here is a screenshot of the final collage exhibited in the October 2020 ‘I Am On My Way To The Sea’ exhibition - printed out it was several metres wide!
This short film was also produced