Category: history

Bring me the Head of Navigation

Jason Kingcity, creeks, history, maps, oregon, places, portland, rivers, streamsLeave a Comment on Bring me the Head of Navigation

A fascinating part of the history of Portland is focused around the river, and the shifting dominance of early Willamette River settlements as the center.  While the dominance of Portland as the major urban center of the metropolitan region is now long-since galvanized, there was an interesting span of time where the battles between competing towns over which one was going to become the .  This saga is hinted at in other books, but is the focus on Eugene E. Snyder’s ‘Early Portland: Stump-Town Triumphant, 1831-1854‘ published originally in 1970 with a 1984 reprint as seen to the right.  The tagline of “Rival Townsites On the Willamette” gives a hint to the particular saga, and Synder shows how the power struggle evolved in the early days of the region, mostly hanging in the balance by the specific determination:

Which of these towns was the Head of Navigation for the Willamette River?

For a bit of reference, it’s important to understand what the head of navigation is, and why this is important to the story of the evolution of Portland.  By definition, the:

“Head of navigation is the farthest point above the mouth of a river that can be navigated by ships. Determining the head of navigation can be subjective on many streams, as this point may vary greatly with the size of the ship being contemplated for navigation and the seasonal water level. On others, it is quite objective, being caused by a waterfall or a dam without navigation locks. Several rivers in a region may have their heads of navigation along a line called the Fall line.”

Synder outlines many of these potential towns vying for becoming the major urban center, as seen on the map below.  This includes communities up and down the span of the Willamette from St. Helens to the north down to Oregon City to the South. Between 1831, when a settlement was envisioned by in a pamphlet by Hall J. Kelley through 1847 when James Johns established St. Jonhs (now part of modern Portland), a total of eleven townsites were considered to be potentially the regional center, fed by overland migration to Oregon Country where hundreds of new settlers came from the east.

Map of Early Townsites – from Synder (p. iv)

As Snyder mentions, in the context of Manifest Destiny and the settlement of the west, it was “…the logic of geography that a great port would grow up near the confluence of the Willamette and Columbia rivers.  These rivers were deep enough for sea-going vessels to come a hundred miles inland, to take on board the produce of the fertile Willamette and Tualatin valleys, whose increasing population would also provide the necessary market for inbound cargoes of merchandise.” (3)  The evolution from Lewis and Clark’s quick stop at the confluence, and the early settlement of the area by Hudson’s Bay Company in a spot that eventually became Fort Vancouver, and the eventual agreement between the British and Americans on territory meant that there was ambiguity about the future, and many tried to establish settlements into the 1830s.

While the book focuses on much of the story, I want to focus on the water history of this facet of Portland history.  Sauvie Island (originally called Wappatoo Island) was one of those early settlement areas due to it’s location and the confluence of the two rivers, evidenced by its importance to local native people as well.  Fort William was an early established trading post in 1834, which connected to the Willamette as well as areas over into the Tualatin Valley to the west.  It floundered due to the tight grip the Hudson’s Bay Company had on trade, who took over the island in 1836 for cattle, and it was taken care of by  French Canadian Laurent Sauvé (thus it’s currently name).  But was the start of the importance of this location for commerce.

Fort Vancouver (along the north bank of the Columbia River) was never considered as a potential key city because, even with good port facilities, it lacked access to much of the agricultural bounty of Oregon, so a site along the Willamette because key. When the British lost control of the area and left, Oregon City emerged as the front runner to be taking advantage of both water and access to the agricultural bounty as seen in their seal from the 1840s.  Many of the settlers arrived and started in Oregon City, through the 1840s, and the town grew with building of things like sawmills and stores.  While there was water access, there was significant issues with upstream navigation at this point due to The Falls, which provided a barrier to boats heading further up the Willamette River.

via – Willamette Falls Heritage | www.wfheritage.org/

 

Another big barrier that made it less likely, was again, the product of that key term, barriers to becoming the head of naviation.  While upstream movement was impossible, access to Oregon City from downstream was a challenge, as Snyder mentions, it “…faced an insurmountable obstacle in the contest to become the Oregon metropolis. It was practically inaccessible to ocean-going vessels. The major barrier was the “Clackamas Rapids,” a gravel bar and shoals about two miles downstream from Oregon City, created by the Clackamas River as it enters the Willamette.”  (26)

A few other towns emerged on the other side of the banks, but never really prospered.  The only other major player upstream to emerge was Milwaukie, which were positioned downstream of the Clackamas Rapids and thus avoided the larger issues with Oregon City.  A man named Lot Whitcomb was the major booster for Milwaukie, and he was instrumental in building the town up to a major player, and built sawmills, founded the first newspaper, and established ferry services, built wharves and shipyards, making it the largest and fastest growing town in the region. The competition continued, with water at the center, specifically who would attract shipping from areas like China and San Francisco, so Whitcomb looked at technologies like steam for sawmills, but most importantly, for ships, with steam powered vessels being more powerful and maneuverable.  While both Portland and Milwaukie developed steam ships, The Lot Whitcomb, seen in this image from Vintage Portland was perhaps the most glorious for a time, using as a “model for his steamboat… the design of ‘the first-class fast North Rive boats’ on New York’s Hudson River.” (98)  The ship also used coal instead of wood, and for a time tipped the scales back to Milwaukie.  In the long run, the ship ended up being too expensive to operate, and amongst other factors, was eventually sold.

The debate again, hinged on the access to Milwaukie, and whether it could support passage of larger, ocean going ships – to become the head of navigation.  Lots of debate there, and there were other issues to bear like lack of access to Tualatin Valley farmers and the steep terrain in Milwaukie along the shoreline, but in the end a key barrier emerged, exacerbated by seasonal water level fluctuations in the Willamette River, causing places to be too shallow for many vessels.  The biggest sticking point here was a wide spot and central barrier known as Ross Island.  Downstream, a clearing was also being developed that would become Portland, which avoided having to navigated further up the river, would win the battle for who was the head of navigation.

One side tidbit was learning why so many things are named ‘Linn’ in and around Portland and Oregon.  Turns out it was a Senator from Missouri named Lewis F. Linn who pushed for a bill to allow for settlers to get 640 acres of free land when Oregon became part of the United States.  Grateful settlers kept naming things after Linn, including Linn City (which lives on as West Linn), Linnton, and Linn County.  The passage of this bill, along with Oregon Territory becoming part of the United States, created the framework for many of the land claims that shaped Portland.  Many of these names of Couch, Pettygrove, Lovejoy, Stephens, Caruthers and Terwilliger remain in places, streets, parks, and institutions around Portland today.

Being considered the head of navigation and having access to shipping was a big factor in success, this was also coupled with a number of factors that influence success, such as access to the hinterlands (in this case the agricultural bounty of the Willamette Valley), appropriate amounts of developable lands (specifically flat areas adjacent to rivers versus steep slopes), and various other.  Beyond just being an exercise in the best characteristics, there was circumstances such as the California Gold Rush, personalities, the human components that tend not towards the most rational acts, also in a similar vein a LOT of politics involved in this.  The constant one-upsmanship and propaganda between towns in terms of flexing their importance such as having a newspaper, building factories and warehouses, and building and operating ferries and ships for transport of goods and people.

Thus the clearing along the west bank of the Willamette became the center of the growing area of the Portland townsite, which, aided by issues with Ross Island and Clackamas Rapids upstream, meant it had a great position to become that elusive and important head of navigation.  Portland itself was growing, and while it still had stumps (painted white for visibility) poking out all over downtown, it was establishing itself as the metropolitan center.  Names like Stark, Lownsdale, Chapman, Coffin, and Pettygrove all invested time and money in growing the city, with a focus on making it the key destination for settlement and water-based commerce.

More in depth on Portland at a later date, but Synder’s book does a good job of tying the specific development and boosterism that focused on establishing Portland as a center for river trade, including building docks, and warehouses, attracting settlement and business, including the Tannery, established by one of those founders, Daniel Lownsdale, which gave Tanner Creek its name, and Captain Couch, who as a sailor of good reputation aided much in creating a convincing argument for Portland as the head of navigation by discussing the perils of Ross Island.  While Portland may have been ridiculed at times for its stumps in the streets, it was growing and became the city of many of these boosters dreams: “Looking at the Portland of 1880, with its population of nearly 20,000, compared with the few hundred in 1848 when he sold out, Pettygrove said, “It fills my heart with joy to see the great city where I once saw dense woods.” (46)

There were some other challenges, in particular those touting better access to the hinterlands, across the Tualatin Mountains, including Linnton, Milton, and St. Johns closer towards the mouth of the Columbia.  The biggest threat was from St. Helens, which had good water access and good access to the Tualatin farmers.  And while Portland also had access to both there was some question about a potential issue of a bar downstream near Swan Island that could impede water traffic, and the roads to Portland from the west were terrible, a muddy, steep slog for farmers to get there.  So the solution was to build the Great Plank Road, which followed close to the route of Tanner Creek. From the Oregon Encyclopedia, it was “Constructed in 1856, connected productive agricultural communities in the Tualatin Valley to Portland. Paved with sixteen-foot, three-inch-thick wooden planks, the road offered an improved route from agricultural communities to Portland and its large market. Before the road’s construction, Tualatin farmers used Canyon Road, surfaced with rock and dirt and often nearly impassable in adverse weather conditions. Perhaps more important, planked roads allowed farmers to haul larger loads and at greater speed.”  Again, a story of inventiveness and boosterism pushing solutions to overcome perceived competition.  But, like many other solutions, it worked.

Canyon Road – before the plank road was installed – via PBOT | https://www.portlandoregon.gov/transportation/article/65584
Historical Marker located in Downtown Portland – www.waymarking.com

Lots more in the book so I’d recommend reading for more. The fact that ‘Stump-town’ prevailed had to do with a number of factors, but in the end it was probably the difficulties with navigability up river that solidified Portland as the head of navigation that sealed the deal, and the competitors either disappeared or shrunk as important but secondary cities within the region.  It’s a pretty fascinating read, and illuminates a part of the origin story not often covered in depth with other histories. It also adds a dimension (literally and figuratively) to the Willamette River and how it’s role in the development and continual prosperity of Portland included understanding not just a linear path in proximity to other resources, but how the configuration, depth, channelization, and profile, and how this creates barriers (as well as needs for modification including manipulation of shorelines and dredging) is an integral part of the story.  And, while veering at times towards the minutiae that bogs down many historical writings, Synder manages to stay on task and keep focus to the main story, the differentiation of these towns and the machinations that led to the current scenario. For anyone wanting a fuller understanding of the connections of cities and rivers, it’s a good case study.

HEADER:  Image comparing 1858 Portland to 1983 Portland – from Synder (inner leaf)

Seattle: Green Lake

Jason Kingcity, creeks, history, infrastructure, lakes, landscape, maps, parks, places, seattle, streams, washington2 Comments on Seattle: Green Lake

GREEN LAKE

I’ve been wanting to write about Seattle’s Green Lake, which is an addition to round out the post these small Seattle lake stories, and supplement the coverage of the larger lakes Union and Washington.  Green Lake has a special place for me, having lived close to it our entire time in Seattle, it’s been a place for fun, recreation, and even protest.  This really cool cross-time image from Then & Again shows the juxtaposition of the current with the old, and Green Lake spanning this , here with “…the majestic USS Macon gliding above Seattle’s Green Lake on August 22, 1934. The airship was traveling to its new station near San Francisco but took a leisurely route with time for a number of photo ops along the way.”

The history of the lake goes back to similar era to the smaller Bitter and Haller Lakes and the larger Lake Union and Washington, as mentioned on the Seattle Parks website: “Geologists say the Vashon Glacial Ice Sheet, which also formed Puget Sound and other area lakes, formed Green Lake 50,000 years ago. Dredgings of Green Lake have produced volcanic ash from an eruption of Glacier Peak that occurred about 6,700 years ago.”  The original lake was lowered 7-8 feet as park of early 20th Century Park improvements, and this 2014 article from Seattle Greenlaker  ‘Olmsted and the Origin of Green Lake Park‘ offers a good introduction to the modern incarnation of the park and this process. In that post, it links to this great map from 1907 from the National Association of Olmsted Parks, which shows the development of Green Lake Boulevard and the areas near the lake as part of this process, and the first evolution of Green Lake as part of the overall Park System.

Via Seattle Greenlaker – Caption: Courtesy Frederick Law Olmsted National Historic Site, National Park Service, 02714-21. Used with permission.

If you were, like me, temporarily disoriented for a bit, it helps to rotate this drawing so north is up, and the more familiar shapes and lobes of the lake become clearer. I’ve also highlighted the old shoreline (dashed line) and the new shoreline (solid line w/ blue fill), so it’s clearer where the drawdown left space for the trails and more usable open spaces, with amenities like Boat Houses and beaches.  The map also has information on the inlets and outlets, which I’ve highlighted below in a bit more detail for reference.

If you remember back a bit to my post of the exploration of Licton Springs, the sketch above is instructive, as this inlet #1 shows an inlet with a specific reference: the “Brook inlet box culvert 2’x6′ from Licton Min. Sprg.”, showing the subsurface connection to the spring that had been filled in previously but was still flowing from the north.  A Bathhouse is shown, which does not currently exist, but there is a swimming beach access which is still in place today, along with the splash play and some open spaces.

There is another pair of inlets #2 a bit further west, near Corliss Avenue, with a label “Inlet box 1 1/2′ x 2′” and near there is one with a note “Old Inlet 18″x18” wood box” which has a note “very little flow now – some sewerage seems to enter it now.”

The final inlet #3, is to the west, showing a connection to an “Inlet-brook, 6′ wide, 3″ deep” that comes from the northwest, running under the streetcar track in a culvert before coming into the lake.

On the opposite side of the Lake, heading southeast, there is the Outlet, which is marked #4, near 4th Avenue (a few blocks from the proposed boulevard which would become current day Ravenna Boulevard), which was the natural drainage of Green Lake into Ravenna Creek.  The reconfiguration of this zone and the shift of the shoreline created a larger area that now has sports fields, as well as a boat house and what is a popular beach access spot today.  This is also adjacent to the larger commercial zone which is the hub of activity adjacent to the lake.

 

These flows in and out correlates somewhat with the 1850s maps, but does closely align with the the USGS Topo Map from 1894 (see below) of Green Lake that identify three inlets from the north and the Ravenna outlet heading southeast – which does line up with the hydrology shown on these 1907 drawings.

Historical Topographic Map Collection

The formal plan as presented to the Seattle Parks Commission in 1910 mirrors much of the modern day condition, with the lowered water levels providing for perimeter trails, new plantings, a new island, some amenities such as beaches and boathouses, and the boulevard that rings the park (the western half of which was transformed with the routing of Aurora Boulevard (Highway 99).

 

And another version, this one from 1925 showing a more colorful version of this, “Proposed Plan for the Development of Green Lake” via the Seattle Municipal Archives Digital Collections.  This map dashes in the existing and proposed shorelines

I posted previously about the fun bathymetry maps, which included Green Lake. Another map I like is this one ‘Showing Depth Contours of Green Lake’ via the Seattle Municipal Archives Flickr page, which was done in 1938 as part of the Sanitary Survey by the WPA and featured in the “Report on Green Lake Algae Control”, which highlights perennial water quality issue . It reinforced that the lake is relatively shallow, with maximum depths no greater than 25′ feet on the western edge.  It also identifies some of the hydrology, including overflows, intake from the City resevoir, and to the west, a “permanent inlet from deep springs” which is a fascinating addition both due to it’s mystery and also it’s location, which is not shown on later maps but does appear in the 1950s map.

The history of the lake beyond that Olmsted plan has many facets and this Chronology is helpful to see the evolution.  There many tales (and History Link is a great resource here) that connect with Seattle history, such as in 1869, when David Denny “…kills what is likely the last elk in Seattle, near Green Lake. The elk weighs 630 pounds.”, or 1893 when a cold spell froze the lake completely over. including  of Hydroplane boat races in the 1930s, as well as a cleanup and redesign in 1936.  Lots of history and evolution I won’t get into here, as it’d take days, but my favorite lost part of the Green Lake history, which I only discovered by accident after visiting the park many times, is the Aqua Theater, built in 1950 on the south edge of the lake as a 5,500 seat performance venue, built in a little more than two months coinciding with the first of what is now an annual Sea Fair.

The venue hosted a range of events included the annual Aqua Follies, which included ” Water ballets, diving exhibitions and clown acts took place in the pool and on the stage behind. Many of the Aqua Follies mermaids were recruited in Minneapolis before June 1, and began practicing before Seattle area college students finished their school term.”  There were some notable music shows including 1969, which featured Led Zepplin and The Grateful Dead, which was one of the final shows at the venue before it was shut down.

The lake as a locus for recreation has stayed consistent over the years, with lots of walkers and joggers circling the 3 mile loop, along with water access via boat rentals, rowing, and use of adjacent open spaces sports fields, and even a Par 3 golf course.  Water quality issues are a perpeutual issue, but it doesn’t stop it from being the busiest park in the state of Washington, with over a million visitors a year.

Postcard circa 1950s – via Seattle Greenlaker – https://www.seattlegreenlaker.com/2017/06/green-lake-seattle/

HEADER: 1987 Aerial view of Green Lake – via Seattle Public Archives

Los Angeles River in Places Journal

Jason Kingcity, cultural, history, infrastructure, los angeles, maps, places, rivers, streams1 Comment on Los Angeles River in Places Journal

There is no shortage of articles written on the Los Angeles River, and I’ve covered some of the broader hidden hydrology work being done there in a previous post here, Beyond the LA River. I do however have a special affinity for the quality of scholarship on Places Journal, and an essay from May 2018, Willful Waters by USC’s Vittoria Di Palma and Alexander Robinson doesn’t disappoint.  This longform essay provides a great background and historical framework for anyone wanting to understand the river and it’s long and contentious history, as well as recent efforts of revitalization and reconnection.   It also comes with a great collection of historical imagery, which elevates our thinking out the past, present, and future river beyond the concrete ditch we tend to associate with the Los Angeles River.

I’d recommend the essay in its entirety, so I’ll just include a few snippets and comments I thought were compelling.  At first I was a bit confused about their allusion to the Thomas Cole series The Course of Empire in this context, but after some explanation, it’s an interesting framework in which to think about hidden hydrology, in terms of binaries such as life/death or sin/redemption, and as a “cyclical” journey from wildness through some sort of apex and back through destruction and desolation.  That narrative begins another cycle of  “revitalization” and “restoration”.  As the authors mention: ” If not for the galvanizing effect of a set of historical ideas — the belief that a site, destroyed and degraded by human industry, could be transformed into something evocative of its original condition through the power of “nature” guided by enlightened design — Los Angeles might have continued to forget that it ever was a river city.”

Los Angeles River in the early 20th century. [Security Pacific National Bank Collection, Los Angeles Public Library] – via Places
From a historical viewpoint, the idea of a soft, meandering river is hard to comprehend, but also is the origin of the city itself, supporting described as “…a stream trickling through a wide sandy bed.”  with “The river basin was overspread with springs, marshes, and shallow ponds (the very name of La Cienega Boulevard recalls the landscape’s original swampy character), and the debris from the mountains, deposited over centuries, created a layer of alluvial silt that in some areas lies 20,000 feet thick.”  This lack of structure meant lots of variability, which created unpredictable volatility during storms and “rain events” in which “…waters would rush down from the mountains, carrying gravel, silt, boulders, and trees.”  This factor would ultimately lead to the demise of the river itself.

Edward O.C. Ord and William Rich Hutton, Plan de la Ciudad de Los Angeles, 1849. [Los Angeles Public Library] – via Places
The other interesting idea was the concept of zanjas (irrigation ditches), in which there were miles built as shown in the above map:  Quoting John Shertzer Hitell, “The “zanjas, or irrigating ditches, run through the town in every direction.” They “vary in size, but most of them have a body of water three feet wide, and a foot deep, running at a speed of five miles an hour. They carry the water from the river to the gardens, and are absolutely necessary to secure the growth of the fences, vines, and many of the fruit trees.”   The image below showing how these canals were parts of the fabric of the city, enclosed but still open and visible, and enlivened the place, as mentioned in a reference to visitor Emma Adams, who commented on “…the soft murmuring of water as it glides through the zangas [sic] in some of the beautiful suburbs of the city is sweet music to the ear, a happy voice sending out joy and gladness. Wherever it is heard are sure to be seen verdure, flowers, and fruit.” In this way, the wild and unpredictable Los Angeles River was remade into a tractable urban water source.”

A canal, or zanja, on Figueroa Street, Los Angeles, ca. 1892. [Security Pacific National Bank, Los Angeles Public Library] – via Places
The manipulation of the river for utilitarian purposes followed many others before it, but foreshadowed larger interventions of control.  As the authors point out, “Los Angeles was shaped by a dual need to be at a safe distance from its unpredictable, flood-prone river, and in close contact with the river’s highly controlled, artificial reincarnation: the zanja madre and its network of ditches. This relationship between city, river, and ditch is illustrated by the map drawn up by Ord and the surveyor William Rich Hutton in 1849.  Agricultural lands occupy the area between the river and the city up on the Elysian Hills, with the southerly extension of both fields and city closely conforming to the route of the zanja madre. At the same time, the problematic nature of the flood-prone river is indicated by this inscription: “sand over which the River spreads its waters which are wasted.”  They go on to conclude that,“The zanja madre was, in other words, the Los Angeles River tamed and perfected by the improving force of human culture.”

Los Angeles River and the Fourth Street Bridge, 1931. [Herald-Examiner Collection, Los Angeles Public Library] – via Places
The river at the time was still natural in most places, but the canals soon depleted water levels, and created a trickle, which was the impetus for Mulhollad’s hyperbolic yet apt “Titanic Project to Give [the] City a River”.  After this change to more consistent supply, which included piped water from the Owens Valley some 233 miles away via aqueduct, the Los Angeles River only emerged during rain events, those “… “intermittent moments when it flowed with a violence that only intensified as galloping urbanization further hardened the city’s watershed. No longer valued as a natural resource, the ever-wilder river was now feared as a “predator,” able to roam and strike wherever it wished.”  This unpredictability and ensuing series of floods changed how people thought, thinking of the river as a “menace” and thus “perceptions of the river were changed irrevocably.”

Los Angeles River at Griffith Park, ca. 1898–1910. [California Historical Society Collection, USC] – via Places
The flooding was the final impetus to use new technology to “train” the “unruly dog” of a river, which seemed to be the particular bailiwick of the Army Corps of Engineers, and creating what amounted to a “water freeway” that we know today. In a few short years, the Corps“ …systematically transformed the Los Angeles River from an intermittent, meandering stream bordered by willows and cottonwoods into the concrete storm drain we see today.”  The authors point of the lesson of this today.

“In a textbook example of the triumph of reason and human agency over willful nature, the Corps created the ultimate Los Angeles fantasy of a river: a “water freeway.” That a drought-prone region would celebrate the speed at which water could be drained off to the ocean was an irony not then appreciated by either the military engineers or the public.”

Los Angeles River, San Fernando Valley, 1949. [Valley Times Collection, Los Angeles Public Library] – via Places
Perceptions changed in the 1970s, and the media, politicians, artists, and environmentalists rediscovered the river in a variety of ways.  A series of articles in the Los Angelse Times by Dick Roraback in 1985 entitled , ” “Up a Lazy River, Seeking the Source: Your Explorer Follows in the Footsteps of Gaspar de Portola.” provided a poignant story about the forgotten waterway, where “… the  author narrated his expedition from the river’s mouth to its putative source, chronicling the riparian habitats of its flora and fauna. Roraback’s picaresque tale turned the Los Angeles River into an incongruous backdrop for a cast of quirky urban characters (the blonde waitress, the salty sea dog, the mussel gatherer, the dog-walking divorcée) engaged in various activities, both licit and illicit, in the river and along its banks. By presenting the river as a neglected urban feature, the series brought its paradoxical charms to the attention of a large new audience, and, crucially, positioned the river as a postindustrial terra incognita — an attractive, slightly dangerous, and alluring urban landscape.”  

Further work by artists and others who started exploring the waterway, and ultimately went on to found the Friends of the Los Angeles River, started to think about the area in different ways, and through exploration,  began as a “…characterization of the river as a paradise lost, a place of discarded things and marginalized people, served to ignite a potent landscape imaginary. It also introduced the idea of the river as a space for environmental action. ”  This was aided by the Donald C. Tillman Water Reclamation Plant which added 20 million gallons of water per day, which had an effect of revitalizing the ecology of the river.  “This infusion of wastewater generated a verdant riverscape, which in turn, and somewhat improbably, inspired comparisons with the earlier paradise described by Father Crespí and sparked talk of a riparian rebirth. As the changing river increasingly evoked that lost, idealized waterway (particularly in the unpaved eleven-mile stretch known as the Glendale Narrows), it also inspired residents to take up walking, bike riding, bird watching, horseback riding, and even kayaking and canoeing…”

Los Angeles River, Glendale, with a bicycle path along the banks. [Creative Commons] – via Places
The kayaking wasn’t always for pleasure, as it was interesting to learn that a waterway has to be navigable to be eligible for the Clean Water Act, so a group of people in 2008 kayaked the length of the river to provide its navigability.  This meant that maybe “The fantasy of transforming the flood control channel into an arcadian waterway began to seem real. Kayaking has also become a powerful means of introducing visiting dignitaries to a vision of a newly green and civic river.”  The final part focuses on the long and winding road of Revitalization, including master plans in through the 1990s and more recently efforts by interdisciplinary design teams, government agencies, and non-profits.  These focused on ecology, hydrology, and recreation, amongst other factors, either as technical studies but more often than not art intervetions or designs.  One such example is the Piggyback Yard Feasibility Study (image below), done by Mia Lehrer + Associates, which “…integrates economic and hydraulic modeling with community design considerations, but such efforts such are still few in number and small in scale.”

Piggyback Yard Feasibility Study, Mia Lehrer + Associates. [Mia Lehrer + Associates] – via Places
The mix of design, art, tours, and other creative methods of interpretation, often using minimal intervention, hint at “…the remarkable activity generated by the Los Angeles River — which as yet remains largely a concrete channel bisected by a thin course of water — testifies to the profound power of the city’s desire for ecological redemption and urban rebirth, and to ways in which civic or even poetic acts have found purchase within a byzantine network of managerial interests.”

Endnote:

The post in Places referenced above is an excerpt from what sounds like a great book, River Cities, City Rivers published by Harvard University Press and edited by Thaisa Way.  Will track down and report on at some point on this book, but here’s a summary from the site:  “Cities have been built alongside rivers throughout history. These rivers can shape a city’s success or cause its destruction. At the same time, city-building reshapes rivers and their landscapes. Cities have harnessed, modified, and engineered rivers, altering ecologies and creating new landscapes in the process of urbanization. Rivers are also shaped by the development of cities as urban landscapes, just as the cities are shaped by their relationship to the river.  ¶  In the river city, the city river is a dynamic contributor to the urban landscape with its flow of urban economies, geographies, and cultures. Yet we have rarely given these urban landscapes their due. Building on emerging interest in the resilience of cities, this book and the original symposium consider river cities and city rivers to explore how histories have shaped the present and how they might inform our visions of the future.”

 

HEADER:  Los Angeles River, view from 6th Street Bridge, 2010. [Ian Rutherford] –  image via Places

 

 

 

 

Anne Whiston Spirn’s Legacy in Philadelphia

Jason Kingcase study, city, climate, creeks, cultural, design, ecology, history, infrastructure, landscape, maps, philadelphia, places, precedents, streams, watershedsLeave a Comment on Anne Whiston Spirn’s Legacy in Philadelphia

The most recent October issue of Landscape Architecture Magazine (LAM) has a great story on hidden hydrology inspiration Anne Whiston Spirn, FASLA, titled Where the Water Was, which highlights the “long arc” her work in West Philadelphia, namely the “water that flows beneath it.”

The aha moment is recounted in the article, the inspiration for the poem linked above “The Yellowwood and the Forgotten Creek“, as recounted in the article, she “was on her way to the supermarket, when she was stopped at a gaping hole where the street had caved in over the Mill Creek sewer.  “I looked down and saw this big, brown rushing river, and all this masonry that had fallen in. I thought, ‘My God, there are rivers underground. We’re walking on a river.'” (122)  Sprin’s work spans decades since that story in 1971, predominately around Mill Creek which was “buried in the brick sewer pipe in the 1880s”, morphing into the West Philadelphia Landscape Project (WPLP) [covered in brief on our post on Philadelphia here].  While I was inspired as a student and professional by her work on books like The Landscape of Landscape and The Granite Garden, her work on hidden streams was perhaps the most powerful for me, both as an object of study but more broadly to leverage this research into a vehicle for positive change.  As mentioned, the WPLP website “contains maps, historical documents, reports and studies.” including an updated interactive timeline, and some newer updated interactive mapping which is good to see, as much of the interface until late was a bit dated.

A long way from the preliminary maps in CAD as part of the early mapping in the late 1980s and early 1990s.  The sophistication and breadth of this work at the time is telling thought, and I remember seeing these for the first time in college and being amazed.  The article shows what many of us know, which is how much of what we take for granted in technology of mapping that’s available to us today, and how hard it was, physically and sometimes politically to get good information.  As Spirn mentions “You had to literally go out and field check.” (134)

The takeaways of this early work was to both connect the above ground with what was underground, both historically in predevelopment hydrology but also with sewer routing and burial of waterways.  As mentioned, the idea that is a constant with Spirn of “reading the landscape” was instilled as a way to understand the full picture of a site or district.  The connection of the physical features with the social is also evident as Spirn is quoted: “It’s a pattern of eastern old cities and across the U.S., where lower-income folks are living in the bottomlands… Many are literally called the Black Bottom.” (126)  From this analysis, the idea of mapping and using vacant lands was a way to solve the hydrological problems of flooding or sinkholes, but also to revitalize communities.

The Buried River from Anne Whiston Spirn on Vimeo.

How to do it was an issue, as recounted in the article, ideas where one thing, but changing minds into action was another.  McHarg’s Design With Nature inspired her writing The Granite Garden, not as an academic treatise, but rather “…to fill a void.  Scientific journals, historical documents, topographic maps, all sorts of materials contained a wealth of information for ecological designers, but no one had pulled it together in a comprehensive, understandable book that could guide designers as well as the public.”   (127)  This book influences generations of landscape architects in many ways beyond merely historical ecology, but in how we think and communicate.  For the project itself, Adam Levine (who is the mind behind the PhillyH20 project which i documented previously) found the 19th Century maps “that showed Mill Creek and its tributaries before the land was developed. Spirn’s students digitized those surveys and overlaid them on the city’s topographic maps, finally getting an accurate depth of fill along the floodplain. “We found it’s buried up to 40 feet in some areas…”” (134)

The actions were part of this research as well, and many interesting strategies came from the Vacant Lands report (see here), as well as a number of other projects, many of which took a long time to become reality, or came with ups and downs of poor implementation or.  The successes came, owing to the persistence of Spirn and her local compatriots in West Philadelphia, summed up in the article simply:

“Change is a bit like a buried creek. It’s hard to remember its origins. Its many branchings are invisible.” (137)

The legacy locally is a series of activists still working on landscape and community building.  Beyond that, there’s an army of landscape architects inspired by this project and her writings, and her life-long spirit of advocacy.  A great homage to a wonderful teacher and landscape hero.  Lots of great info in the article – which unfortunately isn’t available digitally at this time.

HEADER:  Snapshot of Interactive Map of Mill Creek – via

Geoarchaeology and Lost Rivers

Jason Kingarchaeology, city, creeks, geology, history, landscape, london, maps, places, precedents, research, riversLeave a Comment on Geoarchaeology and Lost Rivers

Our understanding on the arc of history around hidden hydrology is informed with maps and accounts from early explorers and settlers to areas, augmented with records, diaries, and oral histories. Often this neglects and misses the valuable stories of indigenous inhabitants of areas, and leaves us with a significantly shorter timelines for reference. The role of archaeology is vital to unlocking the layers of hidden hydrology that don’t emerge from these illustrative written histories, so I was really intrigued with a recent tweet from the Museum of London Archaology (MOLA) (Twitter: @MOLArchaology) that told of their current work, called London’s lost river: the Tyburn.  From their site, the project is the result of “…a team of expert geoarchaeologists  whose work is helping us to understand London’s lost rivers. As an educational charity, we want to share what we’ve learnt, so please join us to explore the story of this long-lost river.”   

Using the interactive ESRI Story Map, MOLA developed a narrative to describe the process and some of the key findings.  Much of the work is conducted along with construction sites, which gives an opportunity to look below the surface while excavation is happening.  The River Tyburn flowed on the north bank of the Thames, and most famously, was routed and defined the space called Thorney that Westminster Abbey was located, seen in this view circa 1530.

The origins of the river are tied to the longer history of the Thames, which is illustrated (see header image) and reaches back to the last glacial period of 11,500 years ago.  From there in, “…this new epoch, known as the Holocene, the Thames began to take the shape we know today, but many channels still criss-crossed the river’s floodplain within the wide gravelly valley. One of  these channels was the Tyburn, which flowed into the Thames.”   In this zone, there are hundreds of sites, or ‘deposit logs’ that are recorded, and these are modelled to create a snapshot, particularly focusing on the depths of land (depicted below as green – high ground and purple – low ground.  From this model, “projected possible courses for the River Tyburn, following the lowest-lying areas of the modelled 11,500-year-old topography.” with a caveat that “the river would have migrated over time.”

Drilling down (literally) into the specificity of the deposits shows the ranges of material and how it can inform, looking at “ancient flora and fauna” and focusing on things like Diatoms, Pollen, and fossils of things like “Ostracods, the remains of small crustaceans, can indicate salinity, water depth, temperature, water acidity/alkalinity”.

Below is “…a cross section, or transect, running north–south from Westminster to Vauxhall Bridge, along the north bank of the Thames. This connects deposit sequences recorded in trenches and boreholes, and helps us look at these sequences over wide areas.”

They also connect their study with the work of Barton and Myers 2016 book ‘The Lost Rivers of London‘ (see here for a post on the same), which speculated on a number of scenarios for the Tyburn, and various routes.  There’s some graphic things I’d change here (namely it’s hard to read the Barton and Myers layers) but the concept is interesting, to overlay varying studies and ‘proof’ the concepts of routing. In essence, does the data reflect the speculation on routes, either reinforcing or disputing what was speculated?  The below map is a composite of this

There’s links to some coverage in London Archaeologist, such as a 2014 article in which “… Tatton-Brown and Donovan used historic documents and maps to suggest that the medieval waterways separating Thorney Island from Westminster were man-made and that the Vauxhall Bridge route was the original and only course of the river.”  The 3D views of the route and the illustration of the provide a speculative view of the area.  From the site:  “Our topographic model supports Barton and Myers’s suggestion that discussing two distinct branches (towards Westminster and towards Vauxhall Bridge) is an over-simplification of what was probably a more complex delta-like network, as shown [below] (artist Faith Vardy).  This geoarchaeological study provides a baseline for reconstructing the evolving landscape; when combined with historical records and archaeology, even more detailed models could be created. The research done by others, such as Tatton-Brown, which focuses on later periods, may be supported by geoarchaeological work undertaken in the future.”

The concept of geoarchaeology is pretty fascinating as well, and worthy of some further exploration.  In the interim, you can check out the MOLA site for what their team does, which focuses on using “…auger or borehole surveys and interpret the archaeological soils and sediments retrieved, allowing us to reconstruct past landscapes and environments.”  The reason for this particular subset is to pick up “…where the archaeology is too deeply buried for traditional excavation techniques to succeed. It is also a cost-effective archaeological evaluation tool and geoarchaeological deposit modelling, which maps buried landscapes and deposits.”  This is relevant as the surface remnants of these, but the underground deposits, so they work in a “…wide range of depositional environments, including alluvial floodplains, fluvial environments and estuarine/intertidal zones. Using palaeo-environmental proxy indicators, such as pollen and diatoms, we reconstruct past environments. Our specialists also use a range of sedimentological techniques.”

These techniques don’t answer every questions, but coupled with expertise and interdisciplinary research, enables us to see further, and deeper than previousl.  The role of archaeology and geoarchaeology in hidden hydrology is vital, as shown above. While we often rely on maps, photos, sketches, and written histories to reconstruct places,

HEADER:  Artist’s reconstruction of a cold climate, braided river, such as the Late Glacial Thames (artist Faith Vardy) – via

A Place for the Senses, Part 2 – Soundscapes

Jason Kingart, creeks, cultural, explorations, history, infrastructure, language, maps, rivers, soundscape, streamsLeave a Comment on A Place for the Senses, Part 2 – Soundscapes

A few months back, I posted part one of this dual post on sensory ways of interpreting spaces and art with a focus on the amazing work around Smellscapes. Part two, as advertised, will shift gears a bit, to think about Soundscapes, and how audio can be used to illuminate places, tell stories, and engage the senses in new ways.  And there’s a lot of exciting stuff happening in this space, and this will barely scratch the surface of what people are doing, but I am focused mostly on that which is relevant to the agenda of hidden hydrology, or in ways that are not directly relevant, could inspire some new methods of intervention and interpretation.

The idea of sound is expressed in a number of interesting ways, and more importance is placed on soundscapes in design, or the larger urban sphere, and the impacts of things like noise and how it impacts humans and other species.  Or conversely, it may just be confronting the dilemma posed by White Noise, in their article about innovative sound artists “The Trouble With Sound Is That It’s Invisible.”  New ways of thinking about these topics more holistically show up under terms like Acoustic Ecology, or Sonic Ecology, which thinks about it from a broader way of thinking.  From the abstract of a introductory paper on Soundscape Ecology , the idea for the authors is that:

“The study of sound in landscapes is based on an understanding of how sound, from various sources—biological, geophysical and anthropogenic—can be used to understand coupled natural-human dynamics across different spatial and temporal scales.”

A great resource on the topic I’ve found is The Acoustic City, which is a book/CD and website focused “on sound and the city…  The book comprises five thematic sections: urban soundscapes with an emphasis on the distinctiveness of the urban acoustic realm; acoustic flânerie and the recording of sonic environments; sound cultures arising from specific associations between music, place, and sound; acoustic ecologies including relationships between architecture, sound, and urban design; and the politics of noise extending to different instances of anxiety or conflict over sound. This innovative essay collection will be of interest to a wide range of disciplines including architecture, cultural studies, geography, musicology, and urban sociology.”  

INTERACTIVE SOUNDSCAPES/WALKS

There’s a number of leaders in the field, but I will lead off with one of the rock-stars of this sub-genre that is doing inspired work around water is Leah Barclay, who seems to be everywhere doing amazing work.  From her bio: “Leah Barclay is an Australian sound artist, composer and researcher working at the intersection of art, science and technology. She specialises in acoustic ecology, environmental field recording and emerging fields of biology exploring environmental patterns and changes through sound. Over the last decade her work has focused on the conservation of rivers, reefs and rainforests through interdisciplinary creative projects that inspire communities to listen.”   One such installation is called Hydrology, which is a collection of sounds “…recorded using hydrophones (underwater microphones) in freshwater and marine ecosystems across the planet.” and River Listening, which is “an interdisciplinary collaboration designed to explore the creative possibilities of aquatic bioacoustics and the potential for new approaches in the conservation of global river systems.”   Her work is also available at this interesting site 100 Ways to Listen, from Queensland Conservatorium Griffith University, which has a ton of great soundscape info, focusing on “exploring the art and science of sound and documenting a decade of innovative music-making.”

The idea of interactive sound around water has a few specific precedents worth focusing on hidden hydrology directly.  A project I mentioned a few years back is relevant, SCAPE’s work in Lexington, Kentucky. which featured that of a series of listening stations and a self-guided ‘Water Walk‘ for their project around Town Branch Commons, to tell the story giving users:  a broad understanding of the biophysical area around the Town Branch, reveals the invisible waters that run beneath the city, and demonstrates some of the impacts each resident of Lexington can have on the river and its water quality. By sharing how water systems and people are interrelated—both locally and globally—the Town Branch Water Walk makes stormwater quality relevant, linking it with the history, culture, and ecology of the city.”

Another project that really embodies the potential of this is a School of the Art Institute of Chicago (SAIC) project from professor Linda Keane and artist Eric Leonardson called  RiverWorks, which is described as “…an interactive transient sound mapping and community engagement series of classes that reimagines and visualizes the sustainable world above and beneath the surface of the Chicago River. Challenging engagement with water, water habitats, water conservation and water quality, students activate new connections and thinking about the Chicago River as a healthy, working and recreational ecology. Inspired by John Cages’ 1978 Dip in the Lake series of acoustical experiences throughout Chicago, the course captures sounds of water, water use and misuse in the city.” 

Students explore and create art, around walking, sensing, and as a project called River Listening, which is exciting as an “interdisciplinary collaboration examines creative possibilities for marine bioacoustics and the potential for new approaches to the conservation of urban global river systems…  students fabricate hydrophones for listening for wildlife diversity below the river’s surface. Connecting invisible riverine life with urban water infrastructure, River Listening activates familiar places with unfamiliar information creating immersive spaces. Students experience interactive listening labs and document field recordings in preparation for sound maps, spontaneous performances, and installations that creatively use everyday technologies.”

An article in Open Rivers Journal from 2017 by Christopher Caskey provides a fascinating context for this work.  “Listening to a River: How Sound Emerges in River Histories” which posits that environmental historians could use sound more to develop inquiry into environments.  Drawing from Peter Coates article “The Strange Stillness of the Past: Toward an Environmental History of Sound and Noise”, in which Coates “argues both for “knowing nature through sound” and “picking up nature’s voices” in his case for analyzing sound in environmental history”, the article focuses this idea on rivers, ending with this important conclusion:

“Rivers are particularly auditory places. They make their own sounds and they have played important roles in influencing aural culture. Whether as a storytelling device, as part of an analysis, or even as an inclusion for the sake of posterity, the sounds of a river, both past and present, are worth documenting as part of the historical record.”

SOUND MAPS

An interesting strategy is to provide maps of sounds, which tie the auditory with the spatial, as mentioned in this abstract “growing research initiatives that take up soundmapping as a way of inquiring into pressing spatial, geo-political and cultural issues primarily in cities and also in the endangered wilds.”  This happens in a few ways, but can include modern soundscapes, where there are no shortage of maps and sites documenting the sounds of places, including global maps, such as this one from Cities and Memory, or Locus Sonus and to cities as diverse as Charlottesville, Virginia, Florence, Italy, Shanghai, China, and  Montreal, Canada (below)

Each map comes with its own agenda, which ranges from nature sounds, biodiversity, urbanization, transit, social spaces, art or even places of quiet.  The key, is that these maps have to have some agenda or viewpoint and have some innovative delivery method, otherwise, they will be boring, as pointed out in this great opinion piece on the subject, “Sound Maps in the 21st Century: Where Do We Go From Here?”

The idea of mapping historical sounds does have a viewpoint, as it allows ways of connecting to the past, and appreciating the changing nature of urban environments.  One of my favorites is The Roaring Twenties, which gives an extensive spatial overview of NY City by coupling noise complaints and newsreels with places and sounds – giving a hint of a place, more focused on the man-made than natural sounds, but the section ‘Harbor & River’ connects a bit with the hydrology, along with some info on Sewer/Water Construction.

Another extensive example is the London Sound Survey, which is a really ambitious project (more here).  There’s interesting maps of a range of topics both contemporary and historical, including the hydrological, focusing on both exportation of the Thames Estuary, and a  map of London’s waterways “An auditory tribute to Harry Beck’s Underground map, the skeleton which has long lent shape to the city in the minds of Londoners. Here sounds were collected from along London’s canals and lesser rivers.”   

MUSIC

A number of interesting projects focus on music, which can be used to creatively engage with the environment.  Re:Sound is an experimental music series which explores the relationship between forgotten spaces, sound abstraction and the natural environment.

The ClimateMusic Project is another sort of endeavor with a larger mission to “…enable the creation and staging of science-guided music and visual experiences to inspire people to engage actively on the issue of climate change.  As an analogy for climate, music is familiar, accessible, and—for most people—much easier to relate to than articles or lectures. We created The ClimateMusic Project to harness this universal language to tell the urgent story of climate change to broad and diverse audiences in a way that resonates, educates, and motivates.”

The use of apps is an interesting option as well, melding GPS and music to orchestrate unique experiences that change and evolve as one moves through space.  One I’ve always been excited about is by Bluebrain from 2011 and their installation“‘Central Park (Listen to the Light)’ … a site-specific work of music that responds to the listeners location within the stretch of green of the same name in New York City…  work by tracking a users location via the iPhones built-in GPS capabilities. Hundreds of zones within the landscape are tagged and alter the sound based on where the listener is located in proximity to them. Zones overlap and interact in dynamic ways that, while far from random, will yield a unique experience with each listen. The proprietary design that is the engine behind the app stays hidden from view as the melodies, rhythms, instrumentation and pace of the music vary based on the listeners’ chosen path…. The app is the work itself. A musical ‘Chose-Your-Own-Adventure’ that does not progress in a linear fashion but rather allows the listener to explore the terrain and experience music in way that has never been possible before now. “Read more about this in a NY Times article ‘Central Park, The Soundtrack‘ from when it was released as well, and check out a short video here.

Phantom Islands is an interesting work that exists in the peripheral vision of Hidden Hydrology.  Developed by experimental musician Andrew Pekler, which was part of an oddly intriguing show called Fourth Worlds, Imaginary Ethnography in Musical and Sound Experimentation.   From the site: “Phantom Islands are artifacts of the age of maritime discovery and colonial expansion. During centuries of ocean exploration these islands were sighted, charted, described and even explored – but their existence has never been ultimately verified. Poised somewhere between cartographical fact and maritime fiction, they haunted seafarers’ maps for hundreds of years, inspiring legends, fantasies, and counterfactual histories. Phantom Islands – A Sonic Atlas interprets and presents these imaginations in the form of an interactive map which charts the sounds of a number of historical phantom islands.”   

A screenshot of it is below of one of the ‘entries’, but you really have to go experience it, let loose and have fun.

And, closing the loop on the musical side, there’s a fun Billboard article ‘10 Songs About Rivers‘ which, I feel, focused a bit much on the contemporary and missed some classics, but fun to think about. The BBC has plenty of interesting music, such as the session on Playing the Skyline, in which “musicians look at how the land meets the air and imagine it as music.”  And if we’re getting fully into the influence of environmental on music, a series of works by composer Tobias Picker inspired by Old and Lost Rivers, and even a Lost Rivers Opera from the Czech Republic, which i had a link to in the past but is now no longer working (anyone help there?)

So much more to explore, but this at least provides a primer on sound, and I’m excited to see more about how people are using this media to explore and expand our awareness, specifically focused on hydrology.  Any ideas in that realm, please feel free to comment.

HEADER:  Franz Max Osswald, contact print of sound photographs in architectural models, from Osswald’s applied acoustics laboratory at ETH Zurich, 1930–33 – taken from “A Visual Imprint of Moving Air – Methods, Modles, and Media in Architectural Sound Photography, ca. 1930 – Sabine von Fischer

A First Map of Portland?

Jason Kingcity, creeks, general, history, maps, oregon, places, portland, rivers3 Comments on A First Map of Portland?

There’s a plethora of early maps of Portland, many of which I’ve recently included and cataloged here for reference.  One of those maps I’d never seen before recently, oddly, is this sketch-map made by William Clark (yes, he of Lewis & Clark expedition fame) from April 3, 1806, featuring a sketch of the Multnomah River, “given by several different Tribes of Indians near its entrance into the Columbia.”  The original link comes from this Oregon Encyclopedia article on the Wapato (Wappato) Valley Indians, found whilst researching native settlements in Portland, notably those around the important confluence of the Willamette and Columbia but getting a feel for pre-settlement use of waterways. The map is found in Volume Four of the Original Journals of the Lewis and Clark Expedition, 1804-1806, which constitutes the return trip of the Corps of Discovery from Fort Clatsop on the Oregon Coast back towards the east.  The entry and fold-out map includes a remarkable amount of information including natural and hydrological features, as well as references to many of the tribes as alluded to in the title.

It’s amazing to see the detail of the map and density of information, in what I assume was field drawn, probably in a canoe, fending off bears while simultaneously collecting plant samples.  I jest, but I’m constantly amazed at the ability of early explorers to represent places quickly and with much    For me, at least, it was much easier to conceptualize graphically if you rotate the map so north is facing up, so the subsequent enlargements flip this over.  This enlarged view shows the key features at the confluence, perhaps not drawn to scale, but remarkably accurate, including to the east, both the Washougal River (noted as Teal) and the Sandy River (noted as the Quick Sand). There are also notes on the various encampments on river banks, such as the Nechacolee and Nechacokee around Blue Lake in Portland on the south bank, Shoto up around modern day Vancouver Lake to the north and many more smaller encampments of the local Multnomah and Kathlamet tribes. To the west, around Wappato Island (modern day Sauvie Island) which was home to Multnomah, Clannahqueh, Cathlahcommahtup and others on Sauvie Island on the Columbia River, and around the other side of the island, known as the Multnomah Channel. See this additional post from the Oregon Encyclopedia for Lewis & Clark’s estimate of the Portland Basin Chinookian Village tribal populations here as well for more detail.

The same zone taken from a Google Earth image shows the general location of and features. The fidelity of the geography is a bit off (it’s a sketch map) but it’s all there.

Further south, the geography is a bit more sparse, but does include the upriver span of the Willamette (called here the ‘Multnomah River’) and it’s connection to the Clackamas River (heading east) including encampments of Clackamas along that river, and perhaps mis-estimating a bit how far away Mt. Jefferson actually was (see below)… and ‘The Falls’ which denotes Willamette Falls, which was an important settlements along this important confluence,  and Charcowah, and Cushhooks near the Falls….

The same view of current day area, again with a bit of misalignment of the rivers, which probably comes from the map being adapted from a drawing done by a local tribal elder, but the general features there.

The text supplements the map somewhat, with stories of meeting a group of Shah-ha-la Nation and showing them the Multnomah:

“we readily prevailed on them to give us a sketch of this river which they drew on a Mat with a coal, it appeared that this river which they call Mult-nó-mah discharged itself behind the Island we call the image canoe island, as we had left this island to the south in decending & assending the river we had never seen it.  they informed us that it was a large river and runs a considerable distance to the south between the Mountains.”

Clark takes a party to explore, and encounters huts from various tribes, along with harvesting of wappato and roots via canoes along the rivers, and found the hidden entrance to the Willamette (which he refers to as the Multnomah River, along with the tribes on Wappato Island and noted the depth of the.  He mentions that he “…can plainly see Mt. Jefferson” which may allude to it’s proximity on the one map.  As he continued to explore he mentions being “satisfyed of the size and magnitude of this great river which must water that vast tract of Country between the western range of mountains and those on the sea coast and as far S. as the Waters of Callifonia…” which if not totally true, does allude to the size of the Willamette drainage in at least draining a fair portion of NW Oregon.  He continues by visiting a long house, and learns the constant refrain of deaths from small pox and starvation. He asks for a map of the area and the people from one of the elders.  “I provailed on an old man to draw me a sketch of the Multnomar River and give me the names of the nations resideing on it which he readiliy done, and gave me the names of 4 nations who reside on this river two of them very noumerous. The first is Clark-a-mus nation reside on a small river… the 2.d is the Cush-hooks who reside on the NE side below the falls.”

They note the entrance to the Multnomah river being “142 miles up the Columbia river” from the Pacific, include the sketched map, and then are off, up-river, continuing eastward.

An excerpt of the journal, the specific passage of which is available via this Oregon Encyclopedia post here as well.

Underground Energy for London

Jason Kingcity, climate, creeks, energy, history, infrastructure, london, research, rivers, streamsLeave a Comment on Underground Energy for London

A recent story picked up by multiple sources focused on the potential for hidden hydrological systems to provide heat and cut carbon emissions through tapping into underground lost rivers.  The crux of the argument is that heat pumps could extract heat from these now piped subterranean waterways, and this heat could be used for buildings and other uses, offering an alternative power option for London.  The Guardian offered the potential for heat to “cut capital’s emissions”, and the Times and The Londonist echoed this, focusing on Buckingham Palace as a visible example for the potential for heating buildings.   Mother Nature Network and Earth.com a took a slightly different slant, focusing on helping curb carbon emissions, similar to the coverage from the Daily Mail about using heat from underground rivers to “tackle climate change”.

The specifics come from a group called 10:10 Climate Action, and a recent report highlights ‘Heat seeking in London’s lost rivers’, and looking at the variety of now-buried rivers as a source of power:

“But what if we could use them to power our city once again? Through the magic of heat pumps, London’s lost rivers could provide low cost, low carbon heating and cooling to the buildings above. They could help us solve the big challenge of decarbonising heat.  There’s huge potential for London’s lost rivers to provide clean, efficient and reliable heating for the city – tackling climate change and air pollution. And of course the same technology can be used in other underground waterways like sewers in towns and cities across the country.”

 

y for heat pumps to transfer heat from one place (the subterranean pipes) to another, specifically buildings or other areas via refrigerant, where it is compressed to form heat at the top of the loop, and then expanded to cool down and capture more of the heat.  A primer on heat pumps, as well as a video showing how heat pumps work also helps explain the concept, along with this diagram.

This is already happening in some areas, including Borders College in Scotland, tapping into local wastewater, and the State Ministry Building in Stuttgart, Germany, which is tapping into flow from the Nesenbach, a buried river.  A map extracted from the report (image below) shows a number of the potential sites in London, including The Effra, Stamford Brook, The Tyburn, and the Fleet, all of which have potential sites for the use of these technologies.  Specific places include Buckingham Palace (mentioned in a few of the articles above), which would tap the Tyburn, Hammersmith Town Hall which flows above Stamford Brook, and other buildings like schools and site elements like heated swimming pools, which is currently being done in Paris.  [click to enlarge map below]

A video from 10:10 explains this in a bit more detail, showing an example of a London pub sits atop a lost river and uses this heat pump technology and for it’s heating and cooling.

There’s questions on the cost-benefit, and each of these systems would require some infrastructure to be viable, however it’s pretty exciting to consider the potential of these systems to contribute to energy savings and reduction of carbon emissions, giving back some of their benefits to the city, even while still being buried underground.  I’m sure we’ll hear more about this process in cities around the globe, all of which could utilize similar techniques, as we search for expanded tools to battle climate change and rising energy costs.

HEADER: Image of the now subterranean mouth of the Fleet, via The Guardian

Below the Surface

Jason Kingamsterdam, archaeology, art, canals, city, explorations, geology, history, maps, riversLeave a Comment on Below the Surface

A simple yet evocative project, Below the Surface is a catalog of objects found when a canal was drained in Amsterdam, creating a longitudinal timeline spanning from modern day to prehistory.  From the site:  “Urban histories can be told in a thousand ways. The archaeological research project of the North/South metro line lends the River Amstel a voice in the historical portrayal of Amsterdam. The Amstel was once the vital artery, the central axis, of the city. Along the banks of the Amstel, at its mouth in the IJ, a small trading port originated about 800 years ago. At Damrak and Rokin in the city centre, archaeologists had a chance to physically access the riverbed, thanks to the excavations for the massive infrastructure project of the North/South metro line between 2003 and 2012.”

The immensity of artifacts found in this hidden hydrology is amazing, and offer a rare chance to look below the surface (as opposed to underwater explorations, which has a range of limitations).  As mentioned:

“Rivers in cities are unlikely archaeological sites. It is not often that a riverbed, let alone one in the middle of a city, is pumped dry and can be systematically examined. The excavations in the Amstel yielded a deluge of finds, some 700,000 in all: a vast array of objects, some broken, some whole, all jumbled together.

The historical context spans a modern timeline going back many centuries, and the evolution of the site were important and provide context for what was found.  For the Rokin site, seen below, the area: “…served as an inland harbour for boats transporting goods and people from the hinterland. Both banks were densely developed with housing, workshops, shops and institutions, among which the Nieuwezijds Chapel (1347). The local urban fabric was constantly changing as major spatial interventions were implemented.”  

The site gives a detailed overview of the project and the archaeological challenges and opportunities, which include two sites, the Rokin and the Amstel. “For purposes of research, there were two intertwining strands: the city and the landscape. These revolved around the origin and history of Amsterdam. Finds from the river, consisting of (the remains of) ceramic, bone or metal man-made objects (artefacts), afford an insight into the material culture of the city. Ultimately, archaeological remains reflect the everyday activities of humans, in this case, of the inhabitants of Amsterdam and its visitors. As such, they are invaluable in the reconstruction of the historical picture of Amsterdam. The value of material remains as sources of urban history lies largely in their connection with the topographical structure of the city. Hence, the vital importance of the link between the deposits and their spatial origin in urban archaeology.”

The concept of streambed archaeology is well documented also, including the process of retrieval is aided somewhat by their submersion, as mentioned: “Another factor that makes streambed sites unique is their tendency to remain intact on account of the inaccessibility of the sunken objects. Once they had fallen in the water it was not easy to get them out. “  There are specific water focused objects, as well as giving clues to what was adjacent to the waterways: “Quite apart from the physical aspect of archaeological material sinking down in water, underwater depositions differ from deposits on land in the diverse origin and generally mixed nature of the finds. They are primarily associated with shipping activities and vary from items that have fallen overboard to complete shipwrecks and parts of ships. Archaeological remains can also be connected with activities ashore. As such, they can often be linked to objects associated with a building or structure, workshop or installation along the bank.”

The visuals of what has been found is provided in a grid, following chronological order, in order to sort from modern to ancient.  The recognizable debris from the modern era, such as credit cards in the 2000s, jewelry and china from the 1650s, pottery from the 1450s, and even fossiles and shells from early prehistory (listed as -119000).  A temporal snapshot of evolution, and an indication that, among their many urban uses, urban water bodies are a repository for our shared archaeological history.

xxx

 

Beyond this, each individual object is cataloged individually, such as this pocket knife.

There’s also a print version, called Stuff, which is available:

The cultural relevance of this detailed exploration hints at an expansive role of waterways in the urban context as containers for memories and, perhaps a time capsule for objects that can trace our lineage over millennia.

HEADER:   Excavation site at Ferdinand Bolstraat station, the cross-section shows the top of the Pleistocene (10,000 B.C.)

Ice Age: New York

Jason Kingarchaeology, city, geology, history, landscape, new york, places4 Comments on Ice Age: New York

The New York Times did a recent story on How the Ice Age Shaped New York with a tagline “Long ago, the region lay under an ice sheet thousands of feet thick. It terminated abruptly in what are now the boroughs, leaving the city with a unique landscape.”  This resonated with me and reminded me of posts about Minnesota’s Lake Agassiz, as well as the Waterlines presentation last year by Dr. Stan Chernicoff on Seattle’s own geological history and how the ice age covered the city with a deep layer of ice ground away over time and as it melted 10-20,000 years ago, influenced and left many traces on cities.

New York City experienced similar issues, with a two-mile thick ice layer forming over two million years back, covering the area region encompassing much of the city and all of Manhattan, with the terminal moraine reaching the zone bisecting parts of Staten Island and Long Island, until warming and retreat 18,000 years ago.

The story of many areas is the same, the depth and weight of ice shifting bedrock, and creating waterways, kettle ponds and lakes, as well as retreat leaving glacial erratics and other rubble strewn through the zones.  However it’s more distinct in New York City, as pointed out in the article:  “While the line of glacial debris across the northern United States is often poorly delineated, the hilly ridge around New York City tends to be quite prominent. Its maximum height is roughly 200 feet, about that of a tall apartment building.”

The ridges and hills determined where people settled, as they avoided these areas and found flatter ground, and I remember the specific outcrops left in place in Central Park as features, but perhaps also to avoid having to blast or remove them. (see header image above)  The article mentions that many place names are derived from this rises, appended with Hills, Heights, and Slope and also its usage in local building materials.  The proximity of the terminal moraine to New York City is unique, but that glacial history has been forgotten over time.  As mentioned:

“Despite the ridge’s prominence and early allure for scientists, it turned out to be no rival for skyscrapers and urban distractions. The moraine that shaped the city was all but forgotten. “Clearly, it’s not on the radar,” said David E. Seidemann, a professor of geology at Brooklyn College. “The educational system here doesn’t emphasize earth science. And there’s so much else to do. I’ll go to a Yankees game over geology any day.”

But the hidden remnants paint a fascinating picture, capture by geologist and environmental educator from the American Museum of Natural History, Sidney Horenstein, who also does tours of these phenomena.  He found documents showing that geologists working in the 1800s found in terms of the variation of hill to flatland geology: “Ridges, mountains and even flatlands are typically rooted in rocky strata, such as the bedrock that underlies Manhattan and makes it ideal for erecting skyscrapers. But early investigators found the hilly ridges to be composed of clay, silt, sand, pebbles, cobbles and boulders, all jumbled up together.”

The walk through reports (such as the fascinating Natural History of New York published in 1842) established a chronology of more focused work on things like history of glacial floods, and fills in gaps on geological processes, even showing the emergence of terms to describe processes, like ‘Ice Age’ which was starting to be more widely used in the 1880s.

A 1902 USGS large-format map provided some spatial information as well

The maps used colors to show variations of geology amidst the emerging city grid, and identified the terminal ridge. As the article points out:

“At first, the city used the stony ridge for woodlots and rain catchments. Slowly, the uses expanded to reservoirs, recreational areas and, in time, neighborhoods in which buildings and houses were built on strong footings and foundations for stability.  Today, despite the wide development of the ridge’s lower slopes, a Google Earth view of New York City — a composite of images from April, June and September — shows the glacial relic as an intermittent band of green.”

A larger image of one of the maps  from the folio is seen below, via NYC99 gives an indication of the rich data available – click to enlarge (image source from Texas A&M Library).

Similar to the Missoula Floods that broke through a massive ice dam and carved out the Columbia River basin, New York also had a flood termed ‘biblical’, as glacial retreat happened around 13,000 years ago, where a “... towering wave of destruction crashed down through the Hudson gorge and proceeded to smash the southern end of the local moraine to smithereens.”

It’s interesting to draw parallels between how the glacial impacts are similar on the east and west coasts, but also how they differ due to variations of geology and topography.  The hidden history isn’t just hydrology, but a combination of physical and biological processes working in tandem, over millennia. We’ve done much to erase and obscure, but traces remain, indications of these long and large processes are tucked away under our feet, waiting to attract our gaze.

“…millions of people live on or near the glacial ridge. In all, it runs for roughly 30 miles beneath New York City. Invisibly, it links three boroughs, offering mute testimony to the power of vanished ice.”

 

HEADER:  Umpire Rock in Central Park – this and all other images, unless noted, via NY Times