There are a number of stories that occasionally receive comments and inquiries on posts from back in the day. This past few weeks, readers reached out related to the 2017 post “San Francisco’s Hidden Water Tanks” (Hidden Hydrology, 12.15.17), inquiring about a really cool hidden feature of the urban realm.
The post drew on a great article published at the time by CityLab/Bloomberg, “The Sublime Cisterns of San Francisco” (05.01.17), which explains the presence of brick circles located at numerous intersections around the downtown core of the city, such as the image below.
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Brick circles denote the location of old cisterns (via Bloomberg)
These reference the locations of underground cisterns, dating back to the 1850s, which were state-of-the-art in fire protection in the 19th and early 20th centuries. These cisterns were distributed around the downtown area and filled with water, which supplemented fire brigades and enabled them to pump water for fire-fighting prior to implementing pressurized water systems and fire hydrants. As noted in the Bloomberg article related to the need for new modern fire protection in cities:
“One of the ways officials responded to these blazes was to build cisterns. These subterranean vitrines were designed as a last-resort source of agua for firefighting. San Francisco’s 19th-century cistern system was reinforced with more, larger cisterns after the Earthquake of 1906, whose subsequent firestorm killed roughly 3,000 and left much of the city’s land looking like a blasted moon. To date there are 170 to 200 of the tanks stashed around town.”
Many of the remaining cisterns are intact below ground, revealing subterranean spaces unknown to those walking and driving above. Many are empty, but some are still used as emergency water sources today.
John Oram, aka the prolific Bay Area blogger Burrito Justice, dug deep into the cisterns as far back as 2011. Around 2016, when the original Bloomberg article was published, he created an interactive map (unfortunately no longer available) of their subterranean locations. The map represented the intersections where the cisterns were located, scaled by the capacity of the cistern below.
Another resource for these cisterns, which Oram used in his mapping project, was a 2014 project by Scott Kildall. As part of an art project called “Water Works,” Kildall focused on “…a 3D data visualization and mapping of the water infrastructure of San Francisco.” He also created an interactive map (now also unavailable) of the cisterns, and the project generated some interesting maps and art around the locations of key infrastructure, including cisterns, as seen below.
San Francisco Cisterns by Scott Kildall (via Scott Kildall)
For those interested in a deeper dive from these past sources, I recommend “What’s Underneath Those Brick Circles?” (Burrito Justice, 03.08.13), and “Cistern Mapping Project Reportback.” (Scott Kildall, 01.07.16). Although a seemingly hot topic in the mid-2010s, I only found a few scant more recent references to these cisterns. A good one worth listening to is part of a self-guided tour of these cisterns as part of the Exploratorium installation Buried History – Water Underground along with a link to a downloadable, printable map here.
I would appreciate any input from anyone in the Bay Area with up-to-date information or ongoing projects related to the cisterns.
Note: This post was originally posted on Substack on 01/31/25 and added to the Hidden Hydrology website on 04/22/25.
Throughout history, there are numerous theories about building the Great Pyramids of Giza along the Nile River in Egypt. One of the key questions has been the logistics of moving the massive stones, each weighing over two tons. 2.3 million of these blocks of limestone and granite were used to construct the structures, without the aid of modern machinery. Theories for how this was accomplished vary and include methods of transport over land via sleds and rollers, and construction on-site using ramps, and pulleys. Some even attribute these other-worldly feats more broadly to the work of aliens.
Water and the Nile have always been tied to these theories, with the idea that the blocks were floated on the river from distant quarries for use on-site for the Pyramid construction. The structures sit at a slightly higher elevation from the floodplain, some distance from the main channels of the Nile, thus there have been questions on how the stones were transported this last mile from the river to the site itself. The research questions used the tools of hidden hydrology to develop theories on lost channels instrumental to the construction. Two such theories are discussed below.
Conceptual diagram of Khufu Branch, with location of sediment cores (PNAS)
The researcher’s process involved looking at soil cores: “Seeking evidence of an ancient water route, the researchers drilled down into the desert near the Giza harbor site and along the Khufu Branch’s hypothesized route., where they collected five sediment cores.” Analysis of the samples included paleobotany to look at plant fragments and pollen, and matching these species with the presence or absence of water-adapted or dry plantings to determine if the areas were part of a historical water body. The results showed periods of inundation that matched the construction of the pyramids.
This wet period allowed standing water to persist, and the proximity of the Khufu branch provided the ability to extend the reach of the Nile, allowing the construction of smaller canals close to the area of the Giza plateau. The branch is theorized to have dried up around 600 B.C. and the channel moved further away from the site of the Great Pyramids.
Rendering of the Khufu Branch of the Nile (Alex Boersma/Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences/NY Times)
Ahramat Branch
Several current articles (Cosmos,BBC) have reignited this dialog around these theories of the use of waterways for transporting building stones. They all refer to research from a May 2024 paper entitled, “The Egyptian pyramid chain was built along the now abandoned Ahramat Nile Branch.” (Nature Communications Earth & Environment, 05.16.24). The research team offers new theories about investigating the hidden hydrology to unlock these ancient mysteries. As noted in the article the team makes a similar assertion to the previous work on the Khufu Branch, however, they consider the hydrology differently as a parallel side channel they refer to as the Ahramat Branch. From their abstract:
“Many of the pyramids, dating to the Old and Middle Kingdoms, have causeways that lead to the branch and terminate with Valley Temples which may have acted as river harbors along it in the past. We suggest that The Ahramat Branch played a role in the monuments’ construction and that it was simultaneously active and used as a transportation waterway for workmen and building materials to the pyramids’ sites.”
The map below shows the route of the Ahrama Branch, which was situated on the western edge of the floodplain closer to the location of the Pyramids. In this case, the proximity extended the length of the Pyramid complex, including those to the south near Memphis. The study offers the opportunity for new information, protection of cultural sites, and outline areas to protect from urban development.
The ancient Ahramat Branch. (Eman Ghoneim et al./The Conversation)
The research team discusses the project directly in an article: “We mapped a lost branch of the Nile River – which may be the key to a longstanding mystery of the pyramids.” (The Conversation, 05.16.24). They discuss the methodology of using satellite images, digital elevation models, historical maps, and other sources to identify the traces of the waterway. As they note, there are ‘causeways’ that look to connect at the points of the major construction areas, which were used as “docks” for loading and unloading materials and for workers moving up and down the river.
The idea of understanding the historical hydrological elements of the river provides a unique approach, noted by the team:
“This research shows that a multidisciplinary approach to river science is needed to gain a better understanding of dynamic river landscapes. If we want to understand and protect the rivers we have today – and the environmentally and culturally significant sites to which they are inextricably tied – we need a greater appreciation of the interconnected factors that affect rivers and how they can be managed.”
3D view of the former Ahramat Branch in the Nile floodplain adjacent to the Great Pyramids of Giza. (Nature)
Similar to the Khufu branch, there are theories about what eventually happened to the Ahramat Branch. These include the gradual migration of the channel, tectonic shifts that changed the floodplain drainage, or accumulation of sand filling up the channel, concurrent with other desertification processes at work. The climatic shifts could also have led to more arid conditions and dissipation of the side channel due to lower flows.
Check out the articles and papers for much more detail. I appreciate these larger-scale investigations of hidden hydrology, especially when they intersect with the complexity of ancient constructions, providing hints of how water was instrumental in these monumental endeavors. It shifts the attention away from the typical urban focus of hidden hydrology, which concentrates on the burial and piping of streams in cities, positioning the investigations of hydrology through bigger contexts and longer timescales. And, it’s a pretty cool way to solve a mystery.
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Note: This post was originally posted on Substack on 05/21/24 and added to the Hidden Hydrology website on 04/23/25.
Stories of loss around hidden hydrology are not confined to the environmental impacts and the erasure of natural waterways. They can also include the loss of community and larger societal impacts resulting from impacts like flooding that can result from building communities that are out of balance with the larger hydrological systems they inhabit. This month is an appropriate time to remember Vanport, the community built along the Columbia River in North Portland in the early 1940s by Henry J. Keiser to house World War II shipbuilding workers, and the devastating flood on Memorial Day in May 1948 which destroyed the town.
Aerial View of Vanport, looking (OHS Research Libary, Oregon Encylopedia)
The Oregon Experience documentary from 2016, “Vanport” is available to watch online for free and gives an in-depth history of the evolution of the community and its tragic demise. I wrote about the documentary back in 2019 in my post “Vanport, A Story of Loss” if you want a summary of the evolution and fate of the community.
The rapid development of the community quickly made Vanport the largest wartime housing development, with over 40,000 residents, making it also the second largest city in Oregon at the time in the early 1940s. The community was built around water, nestled near the confluence of the Columbia and Willamette, with channels of the Columbia slough and smaller lakes providing amenities for residents.
I love the two images from the documentary showing the engagement with water, including an informal beach area adjacent to either Force Lake or Bayou Lake, and a group of kids near one of the sloughs.
There is some debate about whether the rail embankment to the west between Smith Lake and the Vanport community was meant to be a dike or protection from flooding or merely the berm for the railroad lines. For Vanport the question was irrelevant, as the waters rose quickly and breached the raised earthwork, which allowed the floodwaters to quickly inundate the entire town with a “wall of water”.
The devastation was compounded by the location within the historical Columbia River floodplain and the ephemeral nature of the construction which was rapid and not meant to be long-lived. Other breaches occurred and the entire area inland became a lake. The images, such as below, of houses floating amid the floodwaters, hint at the lack of solid foundations.
The devastation was immense and swift, leaving behind the wreckage of the community. Over time the debris was cleared and new uses emerged to erase the remnants of the Vanport community, as it is now part of the Portland Expo Center, Heron Lakes Golf Club, Portland International Raceway, and adjacent industrial development.
Vanport was never meant as a permanent community, and the occupation of the site continued well after shipbuilding activities had wound down following the war, providing a refuge for residents who found barriers to housing elsewhere. The suddenness of the destructive forces, the lack of warning and accountability to residents about the dangers of the flooding, and the displacement of numerous residents who became refugees overnight due to the disaster. These compounding forces give this site and its history special meaning for Portanders and the need to discuss, remember, and confront our histories, with lessons to be shared with other communities. The fact that the Vanport has been physically erased from the map also led to its erasure from our memory. It is the same as the burial and erasure of streams, and wetlands, and deserves the same attention to the ecological, hydrological, and cultural forces at work.
The legacy continued with displacement, as a product of racial housing discrimination led to difficulty for groups to find other housing. As mentioned by Abbott in the Oregon Encyclopedia entry:
“Refugees crowded into Portland, a city still recovering from the war. Part of the problem was race, for more than a thousand of the flooded families were African Americans who could find housing only in the growing ghetto in North Portland. The flood also sparked unfounded but persistent rumors in the African American community that the Housing Authority had deliberately withheld warnings about the flood and the city had concealed a much higher death toll.”
It also is important to consider the vulnerability that still exists today. While the installation of Columbia River dams provides some moderation of flood levels that didn’t exist in the 1940s, and the bolstering of true levees and dikes meant to protect from future floods, risks persist along the water’s edge. This protection is aided today through efforts such as Levee Ready Columbia, working to protect from flood risk in the context of development and climate change in the slough.
Vanport Mosaic
As a reminder of our history and place, additional resources provide the background of life at Vanport and the people who called it home for a brief time. This video “Vanport: Legacy of a Forgotten City”, below, is worth checking out for more context about the community and the work being done to keep the memory alive. The video is part of a great resource, Vanport Mosiac, which calls itself “…a memory-activism platform. We amplify, honor, and preserve the silenced histories that surround us in order to understand our present, and create a future where we all belong.”
Their annual Vanport Mosaic Festival is upcoming this year from May 18 to June 1, 2024, which features speakers, tours, and events on-site and at nearby community venues (program here). I’d recommend taking the bus tour (if they still offer it) to see parts of the site not accessible outside of festival hours around the original Vanport community. I wrote an extensive post about the festival and tour in June 2019 “Vanport Mosaic” and they were kind enough to provide a link to it on their site for others to access.
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Note: This post was originally posted on Substack on 05/15/24 and added to the Hidden Hydrology website on 04/23/25.
Milan once boasted a robust system of canals, similar to the well-known waterscapes of Venice. Lacking a large river in the urban area, the canals in Milan were developed in the 12th to the 17th centuries to provide water access and connections that were not part of the original city. The area in the southwest quarter of the city is known as the Navigli district, and today “…remains one of the last true connections the Milanese have with water. The Grand Canal (Naviglio Grande) itself dates back to 1177, making it one of the oldest navigable canals in Europe. Today, it’s packed with bars, cafes, restaurants, art galleries and boutiques; in non-lockdown times, it’s a lively meeting spot or a place for a gentle passeggiata stroll by the water.”
Much of the canal system was buried as part of the modernization of the city, but the system still exists, a few areas see daylight, but most are now underground in pipes. A recent paper by Carlien Donkor, Agenee Bavuso Marone, and Allegra Aprea, “Unveiling Milan’s Navigli and Underground Water Heritage through Integrated Urban (Water) Design.” (Blue Papers, 2024, Vol. 3, No. 1) discusses the Navigli through the lenses of climate adaptation, and water resource management, with a goal to “reclaim Milan’s identity as a “city of water” through a deliberate design methodology informed by the city’s history.”
“Snowfall in the Navigli, Milan” January 1852 (Image source: Angelo Inganni / Blue Papers)
The authors provide additional context for the historical canal and lock system, urban water power dynamics, and how these features had served functional purposes in the original historic city, like draining the marshy landscape mitigating flooding. They also discuss how these can restore the ‘water heritage’, and ways these systems can aid in addressing the contemporary urban issues facing Milan. The system map of Milan provides a hint at some of the main components. Some background, from the authors:
“The Navigli were dug as early as 1179 for defensive purposes, as private irrigation channels, and later as lines of trade and business, and became a part of everyday Milanese life (Aprea et al. 2018). In the past, these artificial rivers were the only source of running water for domestic use; for instance there were many old washing houses along the Navigli like the one in Vicolo dei Lavandai (Ministry of Tourism n.d.). They were even used to transport materials to the Duomo (Milan’s main cathedral) during construction (Tyson 2021; Global Site Plans n.d.). The Navigli system reached its peak during the Renaissance, when Leonardo da Vinci worked on the improvement and expansion of the canals (Tramonti 2014).”
Historical image of canals in Milan (Civico Archivio Fotografico/BBC)
The canals were filled early in the 20th century, many turned into roadways as cars and trains replaced boats for transportation. Like many other cities, the authors note: “…the canals were perceived as sources of disease and odor, and as health and hygiene needs of the growing city became alarming the initiative to conceal them were desirable.”
Incoronata Lock is a remnant of the canal system still visible (Joey Tyson/BBC)
The current system that is the result of this transformation has disconnected residents from the water, changing the nature of the city and diminishing the historical role the Navigli. There have been proposals for reopening the canals and daylighting some of the buried waterways, which are ongoing, however, the authors expand the notion to include a broader spectrum of opportunities to tap the historical legacy of the “city of water” as part of a modern water system. As noted: “By looking into the past and present water infrastructure, surface and underground, technological solutions for collecting, absorbing, filtering and purifying rainwater, formed part of this landscape project.”
This system diagram in the article takes some unpacking, but shows a master plan diagram “showing the hydraulic continuity of the project to the Fossa Interna as well as the three Navigli.” This included incorporating green infrastructure solutions (or in the parlance of some European areas “sustainable drainage systems” or SUDS), which have multiple benefits like restoration of biodiversity, reduced urban temperatures, and amenities.
Waterland master plan (Carlien Donkor, Agnese Bavuso Marone and Allegra Aprea, 2018/Blue Papers).
The ability to use “historical analysis” as a way to create frameworks for modern water systems is highly aligned with the goals of this hidden hydrology project and the authors expand the notion beyond the technical to include the importance of culture in the water solutions.
“For older Milanese, water in Milan evokes a deep nostalgia for the disappeared aquatic city symbolized by the countless depictions in art of the Navigli. The Navigli brought water to the people and people to the water. In the same way, Waterland would do the same. While the call to reopen the canals is good, it should be noted that their water management function is for a different scale of city; this should be translated in a contemporary intervention.”
There is more in the article and references, so would appreciate hearing other’s reactions to the paper’s findings, and perhaps if applicable to other regions. Also mentioned earlier, some of the work is underway to daylight canals in Milan. Notably, a project called Riaprire I Navigli (Reopen the Canals) has a wealth of information on specific worth being done. It is worth a follow-up post for more info (and a good chance to work on my Italian), so stay tuned.
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Note: This post was originally posted on Substack on 05/13/24 and added to the Hidden Hydrology website on 04/23/25.
Strong connections exist between hidden hydrology and the larger work of historical ecology, in terms of methodology and the work to piece together complete stories from fragments of disparate sources. Often the traces of historical waterways inform the larger ecological patterns of places to establish baseline conditions, and historic vegetation patterns, and begin to establish markers to document change. The overlay of indigenous occupation is an additional element, however, it is often hard to reconstruct due to a lack of physical documentation. Examples of projects successfully implementing this type of work are valuable case studies.
A recent article, “Tribal leaders and researchers have mapped the ancient ‘lost suburbs’ of Los Angeles” (Los Angeles Times, October 9, 2023) explores a successful process, highlighting work by groups using these techniques to study six village sites in the greater Los Angeles region. These “lost suburbs”, in this case, are the original settlements and villages within the LA Basin, where, as noted in the article, “…culture thrived here for thousands of years amid a landscape of oak and walnut woodlands riven with waterways teeming with steelhead trout and prowled by wolves and grizzly bears.”
Ancient routes and key village locations (LA Times)
Three tribes, the Chumash, Tataviam, and Kizh-Gabrieleño collaborated with diverse interdisciplinary academic researchers to piece together a tapestry of inhabitation, as noted in the LA Times article by one of the project leads, UCLA’s Travis Longcore: “We had to dig deep for evidence of the great society buried under our modern empire of terraced and graded slopes, rivers sheathed in concrete, industrial development, freeways and sprawl.”
These provide a trail of evidence to follow for appropriate ecological restoration and responses to climate change. Hidden hydrology is one essential key to the understanding of these ancient places. From the LA Times: “One map reveals the locations of streams, wetlands, vernal pools, and tidal flats that were buried or drastically altered to accommodate urban development.”
Comparison of development impacts on waterways (LA Times)
This is a part of the full historical ecology of the region discussed in the following section. Understanding the pre-colonization waterways allows for restoring places informed by an authentic indigenous history. As noted by Matt Vestuto, one of the collaborators from the Barbareno/Ventureno Band of Mission Indians:
“…the mapping project offers hope for a long overdue reappraisal of Native American history… Almost overnight, we were disenfranchised from the landscape — but our people are still here… now, the challenge is to restore the environment, and rebuild our nations.”
“Descriptions of the historical landscape patterns and function have led to a conclusion that this landscape and region cannot be understood without listening to the stories of Indigenous people who managed this land and thrived for thousands of years before the arrival of European settlers.”
A key part of the work is cartographic regressions, which include reconstruction of the topographic history and hydrological patterns using old maps, aerial photography, and other archival sources, like texts, drawings, place names, historical accounts, and archaeological work. The analyses look closely at trade networks, historical flora and fauna distributions, and their impact on habitat, and provide the blueprint for future restoration. As noted in the Executive Summary:
“This project is unique because a commonly shared, detailed map of the historical ecology—the flora, fauna, hydrology, and landforms, that evolved within Southern California’s Mediterranean climate over millennia and supported human populations for 9,000 years, has never been developed. Individually and cumulatively, the results of this research are vital resources to all regional and local planning efforts involving sustainability, habitat restoration, and preparing for climate change.”
Story Maps
An interactive Story Map is also worth checking out, providing a visual executive summary of the report. Focusing on the section related to Historical Water Features, the team traces stream routes in intervals, including 1896-1903 and 1924-1941, with the ability to compare, via slider, the two time periods as shown below, and highlights the radical change of regional hydrological patterns as the city developed.
The citywide mapping of vegetation types is directly related to these original historical waterways, and an interactive map, based on the Military Grid Reference System (MGRS), using a 1km grid, to provide map data in cells of potential natural vegetation (PNV). This is described in the Story Map as the “…vegetation that would develop in a particular ecological zone or environment, assuming the conditions of flora and fauna to be natural, if the action of man on the vegetation mantle stopped and in the absence of substantial alteration in present climatic conditions.”
Map of Hypothesized Potential Natural Vegetation of the Los Angeles Region (LALAH Story Map)
The connections between hidden hydrology, historical ecology, and indigenous occupation are more than just understanding the past. As the researchers point out, the ability to employ this data for solutions to loss of biodiversity, climate change impacts, and other challenges, while celebrating the cultural legacy of place, is key. There’s a wealth of information worth studying this model in more depth, to better understand the Los Angeles Basin ecology and hydrology and to refine and adapt this approach to other regions, specifically centering Indigenous stories as a key component in historical ecology work.
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Note: This post was originally posted on Substack on 05/01/24 and added to the Hidden Hydrology website on 04/23/25.
A project from artist Cristina Iglesias (see a post of some of her previous work here) again dives into the idea of hidden hydrology, this time in New York City. Entitled Landscape and Memory (referencing the title of one of my favorite books by Simon Schama), the work unearths a buried stream in Madison Square Park.
From The Architect’s Newspaper: “Manhattan is crisscrossed by streams and rivers that have since been buried but continue to flow, flooding their banks and the basements above when it rains. For Landscape and Memory, Iglesias will exhume an impression of Cedar Creek, which once flowed beneath where the park now stands today.”
From the Madison Square Park Conservancy, some more info: “Nodding to historian Simon Schama’s major 1995 volume of the same name, which surveyed the history of landscape across time and terrain, Landscape and Memory is informed by Iglesias’ research into the history of the site. For the project, Iglesias located and studied antique maps that documented the water flow beneath Madison Square Park, where the Cedar Creek and Minetta Brook once coursed for two miles before flowing into the Hudson River. With nineteenth-century industrialization, streams like the Cedar and Minetta were buried underground to create additional land for building sites, underground drains, or sewers. Through Landscape and Memory, Iglesias renders this buried history visible again, inviting viewers to contemplate centuries of transformation of urban sites that were once natural.”
Excited to hear more about this and see more images, as the sketch is a bit… sketchy. You can check out the full press release here for more info. Based on some of her previous work it will be wonderful in execution. The work will be installed from May 23, 2022, through December 4, 2022 so those in New York City go check it out and report back.
After bit of a break I’m hoping to write more frequently on all things Hidden Hydrology. For some context, in this time away I have been researching more deeply Portland’s Hidden Hydrology, delving into archives for stories of my local disappeared streams, buried creeks, and filled wetlands around the metropolitan area. I’ve also compiled a composite map of Portland spanning the 1850s through the 1900s to piece together the most complete version of the hidden hydrological layers that existed pre-settlement. I’ve kept up doing research more informally in the broader and mostly sharing on Twitter and Instagram, which are both simpler media for messaging, but also seem lacking in depth that more expansive writing can capture. While it may be true that blogging is no longer a viable medium, I feel a need to write more deeply, and more often, and more personally about my home, my history, and my places. This will hopefully lead to writing more broadly as well in journals, and culminate in my ultimate goal — to write a book (or more than one) on hidden hydrology.
A few recent thoughts, ideas that I take with me into the next journey.
Every story has a uniquely human interface and the phenomena of hidden hydrology is no different, with a variety of actors involved in the discovery, use, manipulation, destruction, protection, and restoration that are all story arcs of urban streams, wetlands and other water bodies. I have always seen the people involved in more broad strokes, as populations and groups acting against nature and natural processes, or conversely communities and coalitions being often negatively acted upon and attempting to preserve and protect systems. Rarely did I connect people to places in a meaningful way beyond faceless groups, only rarely placing individuals and their stories and essential ingredients to unlocking the true history of place.
Sketch of Indians Fishing by Willamette Falls – 1841 by Joseph Drayton (Oregon History Project)
As origin stories, the native Chinookan people have occupied and shaped the waters of Portland for centuries. There are specific narratives of leaders, like Concomly as part of the larger Chinook territory in the late 1700s and early 1800s and Kiesno (aka Cassino) who was located near Portland on Wapato Island, who was also an important figure through the early to mid 1800s , The native stories and start to take shape via early explorers, whereby they drift into settler narratives told about those indigenous people and never told by them. Thus we remember ‘discovery’ and the snapshots of what written narratives and maps were documented, but know less about the life and the interaction with many of the places in the region beyond a few major areas of significance that were spiritual centers and places of food gathering and trade. I challenged myself to weave these stories into the narratives, and although I feel more informed, I’ve barely scratched the surface, so the next steps are to engage and learn from descendants and hear stories of places that were of significance to Chinook people in the past, and those that are still resonant today.
In Seattle, I walked and wrote about Licton Springs, which explored the deep indigenous connections to place in a remnant urban stream – weaving together the long and contentious history, which was recently given protection as a landmark of cultural significance to Coast Salish people. Many of these stories need to be told, and the opportunity to connect our diverse history to water places – the water stories and human stories, continues to intrigue me.
Licton Springs (Photo by Author)
Broadening the cultural lens, I’ve written about Tanner Creek and the Chinese farmers who cultivated lands adjacent to the creek using the amazing resource by Marie Rose-Wong on early Chinese residents of Portland, documenting the erasure of the creek and the Chinese farms in tandem, both slowly disappearing from Portland in the wake of ‘progress’ that wanted neither the Chinese people, nor the messiness of flooding, steep gulches that stood in the way of a modern metropolis.
View of Chinese Farms in Tanner Creek Gulch – circa 1892 (Portland Archives)
The narratives feature places like Guild’s Lake, a contested area with a variety of actors working to destroy, displace and erase historic waterways to pave the way for development and industrialization, with little thought to the impacts ecologically and socially to these actions. As you map out the timeline of erasure for many waterways, it’s never one person or one big move, but a variety of consistent, incremental actions, driven by the need for progress and growth, that privileged the needs of few over the impacts to many. The missing piece of this is again the human dimension, the root of all of these stories were the people who occupied these places, and how they, and their actions, gave life to the unique water places in the community. And as other forces removed the waterways, how they were impacted by the places are lost. The places are not coming back, but but hopefully through the stories some idea of that experience can re-emerge and remain.
Chinese man fishing in Guild’s Lake – circa 1890 (Oregon Historical Society – OHS-bb016278)
Another significant narrative in Portland’s water history is the intersection with the African American story, told through the emergence and eventual destruction of Vanport City. There are many narratives as to the cause of the flooding and destruction of in the1940s worth exploring, and the eventual displacement and segregation that happened after the city was destroyed continues to shape the city today.
As my post documenting the amazing OPB documentary “Vanport” shows, these, too are human stories, with interviews and first person accounts of the development and occupation of this novel community, and the lead up to the destruction and displacement of larger populations of people that had lasting impacts and left an indelible mark on the racial history and social structure of Portland.
CLIMATE CONNECTIONS
While Vanport was not a result of climate change per se, this larger narrative of catastrophic flood events also provides a hint at more extreme future scenarios that intersect with my research on hidden hydrology: the connections between the lost and buried streams, wetlands, ponds and water bodies, along with made-land through filling and manipulating shorelines, and how these ultimately give clues to and exacerbate our present impacts related to climate change.
Stories in the mainstream media are reinforcing these connections, and through recent research, and continues to gain prominence and momentum as a dimensions of climate change evolve and the impacts are played out in communities more frequently and in more extreme forms.
There are a number of drivers for the ‘creative destruction’ of water systems in cities. Making land for development by piping creeks, filling gulches, ponds, wetlands and shorelines to make developable land offers the chance to grow and continue to build. Much of this was also an element of the modern safety movement that was concerned with life and property damage from flooding creeks, and the related sanitary movement was driven by public health concerns, often by removing access to polluted waterways. In short term and in earlier times, these efforts may have seemed good approaches but come with some unfortunate baggage in loss of ecosystem function, and lack of resilience.
Flooding is obviously not a new thing, and is not always the result of removal of waterways not of climate change. However it is not difficult to make general connections that flooding often follows the historical shape of water in cities, and that removal, filling, and piping of creeks, streams, wetlands and ponds has lasting impacts to the hydrology and that the impacts will be more evident as climate change raises sea levels, increases extreme precipitation and storms, and increases urban heat.
A recent NY Times editorial by Eric Sanderson makes this case, unpacking impacts of recent extreme weather and hurricanes and tracing that to lost streams that wove through New York City. The simple statement of “Water will go where water has always gone.” sums up the phenomenon, while giving us an interesting new (old?) methodology for predicting impacts by using historical hydrological systems in new ways. Beyond that in the past year, my Twitter feed is filled with stories of flooding in Europe, UK, and around the US, a global climate change induced impact all traced back to the link between historical waterways and current, human-caused climate change. Lots more on this topic to come.
EVOLUTION
As I researched more from the archives of local newspapers and uncovered more unique, human stories, the narratives became less about places and the lost waterways, but how these created a tableau of life. Rarely were stories these idyllic and utopian, but painted a picture of daily life and the struggle to build a city carved out of the forest at the confluence of two rivers. Often they were narratives of greed, racism, and exploitation, focusing on power and money which were allowed to run rampant in a time of very little environmental policy and awareness of impacts.
The water stories become stories of native people who developed thriving communities that were in a short span of time decimated by disease, violence and displacement from their lands and waters. The stories of Chinese farmers who lived on the margins of gulches and ponds in Portland, who contributed to the building of the community and were rewarded with racism and erasure from their places of productivity and community. The devastation of a flooded African American community of Vanport left ship workers and their families, engaged in supporting the war effort while building a life in Portland left many without a place live and led to a continuing and marginalization that continues today.
These historical water stories connect people to place and add a human dimension to an ecological history. When woven together with more contemporary climate stories, it also provide a solid foundation for why this work matters in design and planning for the future. It is far from a nostalgic looking back of what’s lost, but rather an opportunity to think about lessons learned related to how we can live and thrive together while growing a diverse community. It is also a blueprint for action on climate resilience, a future-focused approach to planning for urban heat, flooding, and other key resilience measures to make our communities more livable. Call the preliminary phases of this project a good information gathering, understanding what hidden hydrology is. The evolution becomes how to use this information to shape our communities in positive ways. Look forward to exploring and continuing to evolve.
Building on my recent post about the anniversary of the catastrophic flooding of Vanport, I had the opportunity to visit some of the events at the Vanport Mosaic Festival from May 25-June 5. One highlight was a series of tours being offered as part of the events on Memorial Day weekend. The tour started at the Portland Expo Center and looped through key areas of the site, and it was exciting to get access to a few areas that are typically off-limits to people on a regular basis. It was also available as a self-guided walking tour, so they had maps for referencing key Vanport locations overlaid with current conditions
Vanport Tour Map (via Vanport Mosaic)
The back side of the map is supplemented with imagery of sites along the route, giving a feel for what it was like during the height of Vanport. It’s interesting to see these spaces and activities from 70 years ago, and for the most part discover that few traces of this still exist on-site.
Vanport Tour Map (via Vanport Mosaic)
The tour took a bit over an hour, and was led by Clark College professor of geography Heather McAfee, who layered stories and facts onto the tour, and demonstrated a passion for the need to tell the stories of Vanport more widely. While I wished we were able to hop out and explore a bit more, there were a few stops along the way, including this kiosk at one of the parking areas.
A Place in Time Called Vanport – Kiosk
The trail adjacent to the site led Force Lake, one of the amenities of the original Vanport community that was formerly adjacent to the original Recreation Center, and had beaches at the margins. The perimeter is now overgrown and a large wetland zone that is mostly inaccessible except from some narrow paths or to golfers on the west side.
Force Lake
Those other uses are a part of the story. South of the kiosk is a good orientation to the current land use of the majority of the Vanport site today with the western portions occupied by Heron Lakes Golf Course and portions of the east side of the site occupied by Portland International Raceway (PIR), making most of the site not publicly accessible.
Heron Lakes Golf CourseTrack at Portland International Raceway (PIR)
Both of these uses contribute to the lack of remnants that remain from the original Vanport site. As our tour wove between the two atop short levees, we struggled to look from map to site and make any meaningful connections, so disconnected these areas were from their original site, with staring golfers wondering why a seemingly lost tour bus was lumbering around in the middle of nothingness as they went about their rounds.
One area that was protected, through the advocacy of groups wanting to preserve some remnant, the old foundation of the original Theater is still visible on a small margin adjacent to one of the sloughs, protected from construction of PIR (Another remnant area of roadway, a portion of North Cottonwood Street) was incorporated into the straighaway of the racetrack). While indistinct, even this tracery of crumbling foundation serves as a powerful marker, even more so due to the almost complete erasure. Many on our group walked on the surface, paused in a moment of silence, and then moved on. It seems odd, but it had a power, and seemed almost sacred, becoming a tangible touchstone for the past.
Remnant foundation of original Vanport Theater building
McAfee (here pictured) used this location, pointing up at the top of a tree to show the relative height of the floodwaters, which were between 22-28′ high depending on where on the site one stood. As McAfee mentioned, people came into the theater to warn of the breach, shouting:
“The Dike has Broke!”
Seeing this and imagining a water line many feet above your head, coupled with the fact that there was a direct sightline here to the original railroad embankment breach point along the western edge of the site, it hammered home the immensity of the event. It also left me in amazement that even more people hadn’t perished.
Tree marking the height of flood waters
The southern apex of the tour swung by Drainage Pump No. 1, which was built in 1917 and worked to remove water from the interior of the levee bottoms. While it helped slow the flood a bit, the fact that it pumped water outside into already swollen creeks meant that it was fighting a losing battle. The pumps still work to dewater the interior the areas today as part of the larger drainage system.
Original Drainage Pump Station
The tour looped to the southeast and a second breach point, then wove back by the original site entrance along Denver Court before returning to the EXPO center. One stop adjacent was a larger wetland area, with another public sign adjacent to the dogpark that also tells the story of Vanport.
Informational signage adjacent to dog parkAdditional information marker from Oregon Travel Information Council
The Vanport Wetlands were adjacent to the site, nestled between PIR and the original Vanport site, and the EXPO center to the north. These and are protected today and support a range of wildlife, according to the Travel Oregon site: “This is an excellent site for waterfowl in winter, and southbound shorebirds in late summer, including Pectoral Sandpiper. Summering ducks include Cinnamon and Blue-winged Teal. Many swallows forage over the water in season. Check the wooded edges for warblers, vireos, and tanagers. Yellow-headed Blackbird has nested here. Red-shouldered Hawk appears occasionally, while American Kestrel, Red-tail Hawk, Osprey, and Bald Eagle are expected. Another 0.5 mi NW on Broadacre is Force Lake, a good place to view migrant grebes, ducks, and shorebirds.”
At the EXPO center post-tour, there were a number of exhibits and groups showcasing topics related to Vanport, social & environmental justice, arts, and culture. The Vanport exhibit was a chance to explore many of the themes around Vanport flood, not just as a historical retrospective but as a way to use this to have new conversations around race. From the site:
“Join us for two weeks of memory activism opportunities, to explore and confront our local past and recent history of “othering” and its tragic consequences. Through exhibits, documentary screenings, tours, theater, and dialogues we will celebrate the lessons of resilience and resistance as defined and told by historically oppressed communities.”
“…it’s important to remember because I feel like we are experiencing yet another wave of collective historical and cultural amnesia.”
Vanport Spirit mural
Lots of interesting side stories, including learning more about Levee Ready Columbia, working to protect from flood risk in the context of development and climate change in the slough today, as well as finding all the ways to access some local waterways via the Columbia Slough Watershed Council’s ‘Paddlers Access Guide‘. From the artistic side, a few related events include a documentary of Portland stories around trees, Canopy Stories, and a cool project exploring stores of place through music from the Portland Jazz Composers Ensemble “From Maxville to Vanport”. Similar geography, the Maxville Heritage Interpretive Center highlights a fascinating slice of Oregon history, and many other stories can be found via the Oregon Heritage Tradition, which “recognizes events that are more than 50 years old, reflect Oregon’s unique character, and have become associated with what it means to be an Oregonian.” Lots more folks at the event, so this is just a snapshot of a few.
Additional Stories
For a more permanent look at some of the art that looks back at Vanport, you take the yellow line north and stop at the Delta Park/Vanport MAX Light Rail Station. From the TriMet site outlining the Public Art on the Yellow Line, there are a number of elements that reference Vanport. Artist Linda Wysong was the primary creator of this stations installation, built in 2004. Elements include foundation remnants embedded in sidewalk, and a range of other specific elements.
These mosaic tile (the original Vanport Mosaic?) of community maps overlay the current Delta Park site onto the city grid of Vanport. Another map shows local river context within the location of the station.
Vanport MosaicClose-up of Mosaic
There are also these beautiful bronze railings, which are a nice touchand easy to miss if you’re not looking, featuring “cast artifacts from the Chinookan culture, Vanport and the Portland International Raceway.”
Bronze railingClose-up of artifacts
Another piece that slipped my attention was some “CorTen steel sculptures recall rooftops adrift in the 1948 floodwaters”. There are also works by Douglas Lynch and Timothy Scott Dalbow are reproduced in porcelain enamel on steel, and “…a cast-bronze scupper channels stormwater into the bioswale below.” Lots I missed as it also seems like there an adjacent water quality pond a sculpture called “Waterlines” which had “Massive steel arcs allude to the engineered landscape and Liberty ships made by Vanport residents” as well as a “glowing monolith of stone, steel and acrylic symbolizes the unity of human and natural worlds.” Guess I need to make another visit.
The stories of Vanport are told in multiple locations, with the help of groups like Vanport Mosaic and local artists. However, as mentioned in the OPB story, our “collective amnesia” about historical events, especially those that involve racial inequities and displacement, requires us to first understand and next confront these narratives. As I talked with people around Portland, it was a mixed bag of whether people even knew about Vanport (many had not) or had any real knowledge of the significant (many, myself included, had not). Hopefully the Vanport Mosaic Festival continues, and energy around more ways to discuss, celebrate, and interpret this spatially, so that these hidden histories and made more visible and persist.
HEADER: Force Lake – image by Jason King (all images in post by Jason King unless otherwise noted).
An interesting case study in hidden hydrology from a region I’ve yet to discuss, Greece. Via the Telegraph, an article “Athens hatches ambitious plan to uncover fabled river, once the haunt of Socrates, and turn it into a park.” The river in question is the Ilissos, which, due to lack of maintenance on the subsurface tunnel in which the river flows has led to structural issues that has caused issues with the tram line running on the surface, and opened up opportunities for restoration of this ancient waterway. As mentioned:
“An 1821 water colour of the Ilissos River and the Temple of Olympian Zeus” – via Telegraph (image credit Alamy)
“Urban planners have suggested that rather than spending millions of euros on reinforcing the tunnel and repairing the track, the tram line should be diverted along a different route and the river opened up. They are proposing the creation of a park along a one mile stretch of the formerly forgotten river.”
Some context on the significance of this river, via the HYDRIA Project, “Ilissos river was considered in antiquity as the second main river of Athens, forming an horizontal landmark in its southern and eastern sides. Ancient writers mention various activities by its banks, varying from civic processes, cults -including a sanctuary dedicated to the river himself, by Ardittos hill- or social walks and philosophical endeavours in idyllic landscapes, as for Socrates and his disciples (Plato, Phaedrus 229-230, link). “
View of Athens from the River Ilissos – painting by Johann Michael Wittmer – via Greek City Times
Due to the dry climate, the Ilissos and the other river in Athens, the Kifissos, are often dry, as mentioned in the article. “Given Greece’s dry, hot climate, neither is huge – they are nothing like the Thames in London or the Tiber in Rome.” They do, however, act as places for floodwaters to run after winter rains, and the depths can reach up to six feet.
From the BBC “Athens to open up ancient river“, the plan by Nikos Belavilas from the Urban Environment Lab shows the route of the proposed daylighting, restoring it after it was paved over in post-WWII development. You can see the location of the current configuration in the context of the historical routing above, including the Stadium and the Temple of Olympian Zeus, built by Hadrian.
Beyond daylighting, the restoration also has bigger implications, as a strategy to avoid future issues. As mentioned in the BBC article:
“But it is not just a simple matter of reclaiming the city’s past, but also of saving its present.”If the Ilisos tunnel collapses, it will block the natural course of the river, and could flood the entire city centre,” Mr Belavilas warns – “That doesn’t bear thinking about.”
Currently, only a small section is now visible on its path from the mountains, as mentioned in the Telegraph: “It originates in the mountains on the edge of the city and eventually flows into the Saronic Gulf, after passing almost unseen beneath the streets of the capital. It does emerge briefly, in reed beds behind the Temple of Olympian Zeus, which was built over several centuries starting in the second century BC. “
The only uncanalised part of the bed of Ilissos river that once ran outside the old city of Athens. – via Wikipedia
HEADER: River Ilisos and Stadion Bridge, ca. 1900 – via Wikipedia
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
