One man's trash - it's everybody's problem

JUST A FEW feet into his morning hike in Wissahickon Valley Park recently, Bradley Maule was greeted by a pile of dog crap.

He promptly pulled out his iPhone and made a note of the mess.

A few steps later, Maule spotted a 40-ounce Budweiser bottle and a Yuengling box. He snagged both items with a Grip-n-Grab trash grabber and put them into a plastic bag fetched from his backpack.

Maule, 38, of Mount Airy, is almost 10 months into his yearlong project, "One Man's Trash." He collects litter during weekly hikes in the park and also documents every pile of dog feces and unleashed dog he sees - Wissahickon Park requires that dogs be leashed.

He plans to display his findings, both trash and data, in January.

Maule, founder of PhillySkyline.com and co-editor of Hidden City Philadelphia's online publication, Hidden City Daily, left Philly for Portland, Ore., in 2009. One of the reasons he left was because he was fed up with this city's grime.

A farewell hike in Wissahickon Park before his move confirmed he'd made the right decision. "The fall colors were beautiful, and there was graffiti and trash everywhere," Maule said. "And it's like, 'Man, what the f--- is going on?' "

Maule hadn't forgotten about that troubling contrast when he moved back to Philadelphia in February 2013. The more he used the park, the more the litter bothered him.

" 'Am I just going to be bummed out about it perennially or can I do something?' " Maule asked himself. "I figured that this was a way of doing something about it."

Exactly what he'll do with the collection is still unclear. Basically, he wants people to see how much trash one person can collect in a year.

Even in one day, it's a lot.

His recent hike filled two grocery bags with bottles, a small paint roller and other random things. No cigarette butts - at least not this time. He's collecting them, too.

He brought his latest finds to a shed that Philadelphia Parks and Recreation has lent him. He emptied the bags onto a wooden wheelbarrow he uses as his desk, seated on a white plastic step stool.

Maule catalogs his findings in a notebook, then sorts the trash into bins and bags, types up his inventory and iPhone notes and posts his findings in weekly reports on PhillySkyline.com.

Before launching his project in January, Maule sought approval from Friends of the Wissahickon and PPR. He's allowed to use the shed as long as he doesn't disclose its location or store organic matter in it, and he's permitted to go off-trail to retrieve litter when necessary. In addition to the shed, PPR provided him with bins, bags and that trash grabber.

"To me, it's a no-brainer for us to support [Maule's] project because [of] the issue of littering and the degradation of the environment that results from that," said Maura McCarthy, executive director of Friends of the Wissahickon. "He's just a wonderful person for us to work with."

McCarthy stressed the importance of controlling litter in Wissahickon Park because Wissahickon Creek flows into the Schuylkill, one of two potable water sources for the city.

"It's a watershed park - that means it protects our water in the city of Philadelphia," she said. "Everything that flows into our creek is going to affect the quality of the water we drink and bathe in. You want to get it while it's on land and before it's washed into the stream."

Some of the trash threatening the city's water supply is pretty disgusting. Maule's found tampon applicators and dirty diapers, even a pregnancy test resting on a log. (It was negative.)

Maule does have limits on his collection. He won't pick up napkins, tissues or organic matter, though he will make note of them. If he comes across something too large, like one of the three tires he's discovered, he contacts PPR and FOW to handle its removal and disposal. He also photographs the objects.

Although he's trying to preserve nature, it isn't always grateful.

"This has been the biggest enemy of this project," Maule said, as he pointed at a large patch of poison ivy. A rash from the plant landed him in the hospital earlier this year. "Sometimes there's a can in the middle of poison ivy, and you have to play a game of 'Operation.' "

Maule's not expecting anyone to follow in his footsteps. He just hopes that eventually, it won't be possible for one guy to collect a shed's worth of trash in the park.

"The message is not to pick up litter," Maule said. "It's to not litter in the first place."