cultural

08 May 2024 09 June 2025

Ghost Streams and Redlining

Jason Kingcase study, city, cultural, detroit, equity, history, infrastructure, lidar, maps, redlining, research, wetlandsLeave a Comment

The idea of Detroit’s Ghost streams work bridges my two interests by connecting the dots of Hidden Hydrology and Climate Change, a topic that I will revisit often. The post discusses research in Detroit, Michigan, that connects buried streams and flood risks, using historical ecological information overlaid with redlining map data to show the potential negative impacts on historically marginalized communities.

A recent podcast “What We Can Learn from Ghost Streams.” (Next City, 05.01.24) talked about Bruce Willen’s work on Baltimore’s Ghost Streams, as well as the work in Detroit, featuring the research of Jacob Napieralski, a professor of Geology at the University of Michigan-Dearborn. Give the podcast a listen, and as a good companion, he also goes into more depth about this work in Detroit in this article “How ghost streams and redlining’s legacy lead to unfairness in flood risk, in Detroit and elsewhere.” (The Conversation, 03.19.24)

The basis of the research is what are known as ‘redlining’ maps. For a little background, the Home Owners’ Loan Corporation (HOLC) was a government agency created to assess financial risk for mortgage lending for real estate. The tool was used to systematically institutionalize racist policies in cities around the United States by assessing areas inhabited by people of color, poor, and immigrants as much higher risk than those where rich, white residents lived. The process led to disproportionate investment in low-risk neighborhoods and marginalization in those deemed ‘hazardous’ or ‘high-risk’ zones, which ultimately created concentrated areas of poverty through a lack of economic opportunities. The redlining has become a shorthand for the inequity of communities, and mapping allows for looking at how these historical impacts persist in cities today.

Detroit Redlining Map (The Conversation)

The research overlays these maps with other data to extract how the legacy of racist home lending in the past has created more risk of impacts like flooding today. The goal of the study was “… to determine whether a history of waterway burial and/or redlining influenced the overall flood risk of communities today.” The data revealed that the burial of streams and wetlands did impact current risks in the historically marginalized communities. As Napieralski mentions in the podcast:

“Flood risk is very intricately linked to history, and by ignoring history we may be missing some clues that help us move forward.”

Rather than dwell on the negative, the authors mention the positive side of the analysis, noting that most communities have this data and that it can be useful in focusing on where best to employ solutions like green infrastructure or nature-based design solutions, saying: “If communities want to protect residents from flooding, it’s crucial for them to map and understand their “hidden hydrology.”

Buried But Not Dead

More in-depth exploration of the research is found in the journal article “Buried but not dead: The impact of stream and wetland loss on flood risk in redlined neighborhoods.” (City and Environment Interactions, January 2024). The study was authored by Napieralski along with Atreyi Guin, and Catherine Sulich, and their research outlines the mapping to overlay the Home Owners’ Loan Corporation (HOLC) maps showing redlining categories, using buried streams and redlining grades to estimate flood risk. The mapping processes were interesting, including the use of historical documents and Digital Elevation Models (DEMs) to infer buried water bodies and flood risk:

“Although the actual stream channel or wetland surface were buried and built upon, high resolution elevation models (e.g., LiDAR) can be used to reveal the remnants of distinct depressions from these structures, such as meandering stream valleys, in heavily urbanized landscapes. The authors assume that, although no longer occupied by active streams or wetlands, residential homes built on buried stream valleys will experience an elevated probability of flood risk not included in floodplain maps, but also that the process of burial and removal were influenced by income and race embedded in some of the racist housing policies of the 1930s and 1940s.”

Mapping Analyses of Buried Streams and Filled Wetlands and Flood Risk (City and Environment Interactions)

Using data from First Street Foundation’s Flood Factor, the flood risk of parcels is rated 1 to 10 based on the chance of flooding in a time interval There were also additional criteria that were integrated into risks associated with different types of impact, sorted by HOLC grade. As the authors mention: “Flood risk is disproportionately distributed, caused in part by outlawed, racist housing policies. Understanding where risk is highest can help identify optimum locations for adaptation measures to minimize flood damage in these neighborhoods.”

Figure from the article, showing flood risks by type of area “associated with inland, coastal zone, ghost streams, and ghost wetlands within redlined neighborhoods.”

This does bring up why mapping these streams and wetlands is important. They provide a basis for analysis by using other data as cross-sectional overlays, unlocking connections between impacts that may, on the surface, be unseen. The connections of this work to climate change, of which flooding is a key impact, are clear, as changes in precipitation and storm intensity make flood risks more frequent and more damaging. The authors conclude the

“[The]…role of redlining in present-day flood risk applies to cities throughout the United States, as does the importance of mapping ghost streams and wetlands to inform residents of the role “hidden hydrology” may play in increasing flood risk.”

Thanks for reading Hidden Hydrology! Subscribe for free to receive new posts and support my work.

Note: This post was originally posted on Substack on 05/08/24 and added to the Hidden Hydrology website on 04/23/25.

03 May 2024 22 April 2025

The Pacific Northwest has long been one of the innovation hubs for green infrastructure solutions. Portland, Seattle, and Vancouver have been leaders for over two decades in developing innovative options to manage stormwater in urban environments, creating decentralized solutions such as green streets, rain gardens, green roofs, and permeable pavings that have now become standard solutions and spread widely to regions.

In places with high rainfall, the initial drivers for these solutions were managing stormwater and reducing combined sewer overflows (CSOs) where rain and sewage mix in pipes, which, in extreme events, overflows into waterways creating pollution issues. The importance of green infrastructure has grown to include multifaceted outcomes, helping mitigate climate impacts by reducing flooding and providing shade to reduce urban heat, and providing ‘green’ solutions over ‘grey’, increasing habitat and helping minimize biodiversity loss.

Thinking strategically about where these solutions are built is key to success. Looking beyond site-specific and one-off strategies, the goal is to provide larger overarching frameworks for how these strategies are planned to work together to achieve holistic results, and ways to plan for these interventions. “How Rainways Could Restore ‘Raincouver’” (The Tyee, August 24, 2023) highlights some of the recent work in Vancouver. What they refer to as ‘Rainways’ are the green infrastructure interventions that have been proposed by City and community groups going back to 2012 built around water in the city and ways to discover and celebrate it.

St. George Rainway illustration (City of Vancouver, The Tyee)

The St. George Rainway is another precursor to some of the work. It was studied and determined that true creek daylighting would be a challenge, due to infrastructure and costs, however, there were other ways to functionally and metaphorically restore the essence of buried creeks through green infrastructure and art. Neighbors have implemented several interventions, including street murals that follow the meandering route of the old creek.

St George Rainway Street Mural (St George Rainway Project)

To further visualize the potential benefits, the team here are some good before and after visuals on the site, transforming asphalt into rain gardens with pathways and plantings.

Visualization of Rainway along 12th Avenue to Broadway (St. George Rainway)

Rain City Strategy

For a deep dive, the Rain City Strategy is a comprehensive document published in 2019 to celebrate water and address environmental and social challenges. The basis is green infrastructure in the city, using streets and public spaces, buildings and sites, and parks and beaches. The overall goals are water quality, resilience, and livability. This includes the management of stormwater to protect and increase water quality, facilitate infiltration, and become more adaptable to climate impacts by mitigating flooding. Beyond function, creating spaces that provide equitable access to nature and benefits to the community are inherent in solutions, assuring they aren’t just solving one problem but many.

The report includes references to the original buried and disappeared streams that existed before urbanization. These maps build on the work going back almost 50 years to research done by Sharon Proctor in her book ‘Vancouver’s Old Streams’, published in 1978 with a sweet hand-drawn version of the map below (read more about this in my 2016 post “Vancouver’s Secret Waterways”).

The execution of more formal St George Rainway design concepts is available from 2022, showing how the concepts are applied to the segments of St. George Street, with plans and sketches illuminating the proposed condition.

Concept Design – St. George Rainway (City of Vancouver)

The holistic proposal of looking at the macro-level buried rivers as the genesis for these community interventions. The benefits of the designs are manifold, as noted in the project summary:

Reduce street flooding
Treat rainwater pollutants from roadways
Reduce combined sewer overflows into local waterways
Enhance climate resiliency
Increase biodiversity
Cool the neighbourhood during summer heat

CODA

It’s great to see this connection between hidden hydrology and innovative stormwater solutions take shape in such an intentional way. In the past, cities have looked at these buried stream routes in locating facilities and creating smaller sub-watersheds. For some background, in a presentation back in 2006 at the National ASLA conference, I did a presentation entitled “Neighborsheds for Green Infrastructure”, where I made a case for using the routing of buried streams as a framework to implement green infrastructure solutions in Portland, Oregon. I’ll dig up some of these ideas and repost them, as they may be worth revisiting, in the meantime, I mention it in part of my introductory “Ecological Inspirations” post at HH (see image below). Stay tuned for more on this.

Neighborshed Diagram from 2006 in Portland (Jason King)

Thanks for reading Hidden Hydrology! Subscribe for free to receive new posts and support my work.

Note: This post was originally posted on Substack on 05/03/24 and added to the Hidden Hydrology website on 04/23/25.

01 May 2024 22 April 2025

The Lost Suburbs of Los Angeles

Jason Kingarchaeology, case study, city, creeks, cultural, ecology, habitat, history, infrastructure, landscape, los angeles, maps, research, streams, watershedsLeave a Comment

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.”

The project is part of a larger Los Angeles Landscape History project, with a report published in 2023 outlining the details of this analysis of the Indigenous Landscape of the city. A key component of the analysis is mentioned in the Executive Summary:

“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.

Historical Water Features 1896-1903 (LALAH Story Map)

Historical Water Features 1924-1941 (LALAH Story Map)

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.

Thanks for reading Hidden Hydrology! Subscribe for free to receive new posts and support my work.

Note: This post was originally posted on Substack on 05/01/24 and added to the Hidden Hydrology website on 04/23/25.

29 April 2024 22 April 2025

Ghost Rivers of Baltimore

Jason Kingart, baltimore, case study, city, creeks, cultural, design, explorations, maps, places, streamsLeave a Comment

One of the cooler examples of hidden hydrology art in the past year is “Ghost Rivers”, the brainchild of designer and artist Bruce Willen of studio Public Mechanics.

Envisioned as a “…public art project & walking tour, rediscovering hidden streams and histories that run beneath our feet.” Willen uses traffic striping and signage to highlight multiple sites around the city, particularly Sumwalt Run, a buried creek that “now flows entirely through underground culverts beneath the Remington and Charles Village neighborhoods.”

The site includes some great background, including the history of the streams and their burial, along with some great illustrations of the path as it winds through

Stream burial (Baltimore DPW Archives, Ronald Parks – Ghost Rivers)

The installation itself is simple, using durable thermoplastic traffic striping in a wavy pattern that allows the line to engage with people in multiple ways and follow curbs and walks – so it is interrupting the linear flow patterns of walkers, cyclists, and driver throughout the city. This allows the eye and the curiosity to wander along these paths and connect the dots.

Images of the meandering blue path in the public realm (Ghost Rivers)

Self-guided walking tours are available and will expand as more sites are included, along with a Google map to track the route and key points. The signs are also simple, but bright and noticeable for those passersby, allowing for a bit of interactivity as they line up with the views of the meanders, and provide some background information and QR codes to scan for more engagement.

The summary statement explains the idea of connecting us with these hidden creeks.

“Below the streets of Baltimore flow dozens of lost streams. These ghost rivers still cascade from their sources, the many natural springs around the city. As the street grid sprawled outward from the harbor, these verdant waterways were buried in concrete tunnels. They now run deep beneath our rowhomes, channeled into the city’s storm sewers, hidden and mostly forgotten. You can sometimes hear their rushing waters echoing up from storm drains.”

The site also includes awesome resources for more information, history, daylighting resources, and other artistic interventions worthy of a follow-up, including a few I’ve posted about in the past and a few new ones. This is a model that is highly replicable in almost any city, using materials that are simple and evocative in unique ways to highlight those subterranean stories and make us reconsider our relationships with the hidden hydrology.

Closeup of Sumwalt Run marker (Ghost Rivers)

The idea is one of the most cohesive and elegant takes on the idea of revealing creeks using blue lines tracking the historical routing of the waterways. It draws upon precedents, mentioned by applying traffic coating, markers, or paint to mark the route of creeks, most similarly artist Sean Derry’s work in Indianapolis ‘Charting Pogue’s Run” and Henk Hostra’s “The Blue Road” in Drachten, The Netherlands, the proposed “Ghost Arroyos” in San Francisco. Another art-based example from Baltimore is the “Green Alley” street painting, and more loose, ephemeral versions in the St. George Rainway in Vancouver, B.C., in São Paulo, Brazil as part of the Rios a Ruas project, Stacy Levy’s Stream Sketches in New York City.

There are lots of examples of this type of project, and it is interesting to see the different ways a simple blue line can be used to engage in revealing historical layers. So let me know if you have other favorites you’ve seen.

Thanks for reading Hidden Hydrology! Subscribe for free to receive new posts and support my work.

Note: This post was originally posted on Substack on 04/29/24 and added to the Hidden Hydrology website on 04/23/25.

18 April 2024 18 April 2025

Tokyo Drift

Jason Kingart, case study, creeks, cultural, explorations, history, language, maps, places, streamsLeave a Comment

The article “Tracing Tokyo’s Hidden Rivers” (The Japan Times, March 2024) was a fascinating dive into hidden hydrology mapping and urban exploration through the lens of Japanese culture and added a new term to my lexicon. The concept of ankyo, 暗渠. which at a basic level translates in English to something akin to “culvert”, “conduit” or “subterranean drain”. These features have been removed from the city’s original landscape, yet still reveal themselves in numerous ways. This is the starting point for Hideo Takayama and Nama Yoshimura, who together started “Ankyo Maniacs”, a group focused on exploring these urban remnants of buried and hidden streams in the City of Tokyo.

Tours of the ankyo reveal waterways flowing under manholes (The Japan Times)

The explorers rely on what they call “ankyo signs”, which include a wide range of markers that help clue us into the hidden hydrology, including place names, objects, and drains (such as shown above) which allow the visual and auditory connections to flowing water. There are also urban remnants such as barriers and old bridges that were previously in place to protect from open waterways but were never removed, or prevent access to areas that have been covered over. More obvious are places focusing on water, including baths, pools, and fishing ponds. The Ankyo Maniacs and others have refocused attention on these liminal spaces, as mentioned in the article:

“While they may be out of our sight, Takayama says water still flows through many ankyo, while others have become part of local drainage systems. “It’s as if they’re telling us, ‘We’re still here,’” he says. “By getting to know them, we can appreciate the past dignity of these rivers.”

The basis for the exploration relies on several maps and the history of Tokyo spans many years. The Tokyo Ankyo Sanpo (Tokyo Ankyo Stroll) map, edited by So Honda, provides the go-to for locals exploring the city with ankyo and other features mapped in detail. Another more modern resource is the Tokyo Jisou, or Time Layer Maps, available as an iPhone and iPad app, which is a map viewer that shows maps of the city at different periods, spanning the Meiji to Heisei Eras from the 1800s to present time.

Images from the Tokyo Jisou Maps – by the Japan Map Center (App Store)

Beyond the specifics of mapping and exploration, the language of hidden hydrology is also fascinating, the Japanese term “ankyo” providing a case study of the hidden poetry of the terms. At a basic level, ankyo describes these places in practical terms, as drains and culverts that work to convey water underground. When you look at the underlying meaning of the characters, it hints at ideas like ‘darkness, shade, disappearance’ which allude to the more mysterious nature of the network of underground features that compel us to explore. The Tokyo Ankyo Sanpo map mentioned previously also includes the opposite features “kaikyo” 海峡, which are the still-visible open channels, evoking lighter ideas like ‘cheerful, pleasant, and agreeable’.

An example of one of the tours is found on the Experience Suginami Tokyo site, providing self-guided instructions in the area of Ogikubo Station following the route of the former Momozonogawa River and portions of the Zenpukujigawa River, including “ankyo signs” such as alleys and paths that act as covers to the buried streams, curving walkways mimicking the previous channels, and other hints at the hidden histories underneath.

Ankyo (Culvert) Tour map near Ogikubo station (Experience Suginami Tokyo)

The heart of the process isn’t just about the learning or processing of information, but about the experience. The prompt by the explorers: “Don’t Think. Walk and Feel!” is imbued with ideas about slow time, and the benefits of connecting to places more deliberately. It also connects to larger ideas about experiencing places, observing and connecting to the signs and features of the urban landscape, expressed in the Japanese concept of ‘wabi-sabi’, allowing appreciation of nature, along the way.

The language barrier does limit my full understanding of the content, (including what seems like some great publications) so if any Japanese speakers have more to add, I would love to hear it. For some bonus content, this short video with Takayama and Yoshimura in Tokyo outlines their work exploring the ankyo.

The idea of revealing the locations of hidden places is compelling for all who study hidden hydrology in its many forms. As summed up in the video: “Ankyo hunters say they enjoy the idea that at any moment you could be standing over a piece of forgotten Tokyo.”

Note: This post was originally posted on Substack on 04/18/24 and added to the Hidden Hydrology website on 04/18/25.

28 December 2021 28 December 2021

Restoring Swede Hollow

Jason Kingcase study, city, creeks, cultural, daylighting, design, history, infrastructure, places, projects, watersheds1 Comment

An interesting project in St. Paul, Minnesota emerged in this Star Tribune article “Work could begin soon to bring St. Paul’s Phalen Creek back to the surface,” which highlights the mix of ecological and cultural benefits of urban stream daylighting. Through a focus on both the benefits to wildlife habitat and ecosystem function and the connection of cultural heritage for native people and early immigrants to the area, it shows a rich story that is told through multiple lenses to provide solid rationale for daylighting projects.

One major idea of daylighting is visibility. As mentioned in the Star Tribune article, this is a typical case of burial of creeks for development, but like many other areas, the perceptions have shifted and the value of historical waterways are being restored. A big part of that is pointed out by Ramsey-Washington Metro district watershed project manager Paige Ahlborg, watershed project: “Another benefit is just restoring a community’s connection to the water,” Ahlborg said. “Seeing it makes it harder to do things that harm it. We still have a number of people who think that ‘if I put something down the [storm]sewer drain, it will be treated.'”

The history of places is expressed in place names. From the Capitol Region Watershed District site, some history on the current name: “Swede Hollow on the City of Saint Paul’s East Side is a historic immigrant neighborhood dating back to the 19th century. This lowland valley includes a portion of a stream from Phalen Creek to the Mississippi River. After housing was removed following the turn of the century, the city created Swede Hollow Park and placed some of the stream flow in a storm sewer pipe to complete its path to the river.”

Image of Phalen Creek burial in the 1920s. – via Minnesota Historical Society

As is the case with most places, the story and names is often told in European terms (i.e. Swede Hollow). The creek name as well comes from Edward Phalen, one of Saint Paul’s original colonists, who settled on the banks of the creek in 1838. Prior to this arrival, the history of place stretched far earlier as referenced in the Lower Phalen Creek Project, a native-led project:

“This creek served as a corridor for the Dakota people who lived here, as they made their way up the chain of lakes by canoe to White Bear Lake – one of many areas where they gathered wild rice.”

The daylighting has both ecological and cultural benefits. In the Star Tribune, Lower Phalen Creek Project Executive Direction Maggie Lorenz, who is both Dakota and Ojibwe, mentions: “[Phalen Creek] is an essential part of the community — it will bring more natural habitat and it means more opportunities for recreation and stormwater management. And, from a cultural perspective, we are really interested in restoring the land and taking care of the land according to our traditional teachings.”

While the goal is to extend daylighting all the way to the Mississippi River, one the first legs connects from Lake Phalen and Maryland Avenue as shown in this enlarged plan, highlighting the ecological benefits, including fish passage and enhanced in-stream habitat, establishment not just of the creek but adjacent floodplain wetlands to provide resilience and habitat for amphibians, and upland prairies that provide native riparian habitat supporting birds and pollinators.

“Consultants at Inter-Fluve, Inc. produced this visual to represent the proposed location, general design elements, and predicted habitat benefits of a restored stream channel of Phalen Creek at the Lake Phalen / Maryland Avenue project site.” via Lower Phalen Creek Project

A ton of additional information is at the LPCP site, including graphic summary of the project is found in a brochure that connects the dots between the cultural and ecological.

Brochure for Daylighting Phalen Creek – via Lower Phalen Creek Project – click here for full size PDF

Header Image: “Rendering of a daylighted creek provided by Capitol Region Watershed District.” via Lower Phalen Creek Project

07 December 2021 07 December 2021

A Brook in the City

Jason Kingart, creeks, cultural, daylighting, history, language, streams2 Comments

The recent article in the New York times on the daylighting project at Tibbetts Creek reminded me, based on some of the comments, of the poem by Robert Frost called “A Brook in the City”. I knew of the poem, but hadn’t really made the connection to hidden hydrology, but the tones of industrialization that . Some analysis of the poem explains the context, as the poem “was written somewhat in early 1920 when history was witnessing Industrial Revolution and urbanization. It was at that time man became an evil and the outcome was the devastation and extinction of nature.”

West Running Brook No. 3 – J.J. Lankes (via Book Porn Club) – one of the woodcuts of another Frost collection of poems ‘West Running Brook’.

The brook becomes the symbol for that devastation, and the domination of nature the culprit: “…because of man’s modernization the brook which was a symbol of force is now nothing more then a weak and meek sewer. At night it still flows. A time would come when people would forget that there was a brook which existed. It would only exist on maps. The poet wonders if man could ever ever understand his mistake.”

An interesting piece of poetry that hits at the root of loss, memory, and the essence of hidden hydrology. Sad and beautiful, be still resonant a century after it was written, and somewhat poignant to consider as we daylight and restore the brooks… reversal of some of that old wounds made right. Enjoy.

A Brook in the City – Robert Frost

The farmhouse lingers, though averse to square
With the new city street it has to wear
A number in. But what about the brook
That held the house as in an elbow-crook?
I ask as one who knew the brook, its strength
And impulse, having dipped a finger length
And made it leap my knuckle, having tossed
A flower to try its currents where they crossed.
The meadow grass could be cemented down
From growing under pavements of a town;
The apple trees be sent to hearth-stone flame.
Is water wood to serve a brook the same?
How else dispose of an immortal force
No longer needed? Staunch it at its source
With cinder loads dumped down? The brook was thrown
Deep in a sewer dungeon under stone
In fetid darkness still to live and run—
And all for nothing it had ever done
Except forget to go in fear perhaps.
No one would know except for ancient maps
That such a brook ran water. But I wonder
If from its being kept forever under,
The thoughts may not have risen that so keep
This new-built city from both work and sleep.

Header image – excerpt of woodcut from J.J. Lankes from another Frost collection of poem, “West Running Brook” – via Book Porn Club

02 July 2019 02 July 2019

Belfast’s Hidden Rivers

Jason Kingart, belfast, city, creeks, cultural, daylighting, history, places, rivers, streams13 Comments

A recent article on Belfast’s River Farset jogged my memory that I’ve got a ton of great info the hidden rivers in many cities around the world, so figured I’d start writing about them. For this post, I’ll focus on Belfast, and return shortly to discuss Dublin to round out Ireland, then move on to other locales. As mentioned in the most recent article, “For 170 years, the river that gave Belfast its name has been buried underground in a hidden tunnel.” It goes on to discuss how, similar to many stories of cities worldwide, the river was slowly changed from vital aquatic resource that fueled manufacturing such as linen mills, to it’s transformation as dumping ground, leading to the eventual encasement: “One million bricks and 40 years later, the last section of the Farset that flowed through the city centre was buried underground in 1848, and it has remained hidden from sight ever since.“

*In the 1800s, the Farset helped to power Belfast’s textile mills, factories and distilleries PHOTO: De Luan/Alamy* (via Daily Trust)

From the article:

“Belfast, or Béal Feirste (‘the sandy ford at the mouth of the Farset’, in Irish) not only owes its existence to this river, but also its growth and early prosperity. Yet, for the last 170 years, this ancient waterway has been sealed off from the outside world by a series of tunnels, and is largely forgotten by those walking just above it.”

The desire to open up the Farset is a common theme, with plans “…to redevelop land around an exposed part of the river and also produce a full heritage package – including an exhibition, Farset app, public information signs, and tours with trained guides – that will highlight the heritage to local people and also attract tourism.”

Another article echoing this sentiment in the Belfast Telegraph traces “The lost river that gave Belfast its name” and offers an exploration as well: “Old drawings show a bustling river which powered Belfast’s industrial development and ferried traders into what is now High Street. But most locals would be hard-pressed to pinpoint exactly where the Farset flows before it reaches the city centre – because almost the entire route is now hidden beneath our feet in the form of culverts. The Greater Shankill Partnership recently revealed it wants to transform one of the few open stretches of the Farset into a public amenity as part of its long-term Shankill Greenway plan.”

Tracing the source of the Farset river in Belfast from the hills over looking Belfast to its end at the Lagan Weir Shankill cemetery where the river behind – image via Belfast Telegraph

*Tracing the source of the River Farset in Belfast: river ends at the Big Fish at Customs House Square* –

This similar theme is expressed in stories from 2015 from the BBC, “Hidden History of Belfast’s lesser-know rivers brought to the surface”, which includes the Farset, as well as the Blackstaff rivers, both of which “determined the shape of the city that grew up around the narrowest bridging point of the Farset, where High Street is today.”

A computer image showing the original course of the rivers Farset and Lagan in Belfast – via BBC

Additionally, the Connswater, which was featured in Van Morrison’s song “Brown-Eyed Girl“, but also has a larger history as a locus of whiskey production, ” In Victorian times, two-thirds of whiskey exported from Ireland came from Belfast, and around half of that came from two distilleries – the Connswater distillery and the Avoneil distillery. “ Today, remnants run under the 400-year old bridge in east Belfast. Portions of the river runs through Orangefield park and supports wildlife, “The river used to run along fences at the back of the houses, which were susceptible to flooding. Instead of building floodwalls, here the river has been ‘moved’ to become a central feature of the park.”

The 400-year-old Connswater Bridge in east Belfast – via BBC

HEADER: Partially hidden view of River Farset in Belfast – via Belfast Telegraph

25 June 2019 14 May 2024

Vanport Mosaic

Jason Kingarchaeology, art, case study, city, cultural, explorations, history, infrastructure, lakes, maps, oregon, photography, places, portland, streams, wetlands2 Comments

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

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.

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.

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.

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.

Track 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.

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.

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 park

Additional 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.”

Vanport Mosaic Exhibits

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.”

According to this article about the exhibit from OPB, quoting Laura Lo Forti, the Vanport Mosaic co-founder and co-director:

“…it’s important to remember because I feel like we are experiencing yet another wave of collective historical and cultural amnesia.”

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.

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.”

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).

25 April 2019 25 April 2019

Vanport, A Story of Loss

Jason Kingcity, creeks, cultural, film, history, infrastructure, lakes, maps, oregon, photography, places, portland, rivers, streams, wetlands5 Comments

The story of Vanport is a critical narrative woven into Portland’s water history, and gives a hint at the dynamic nature of river/city interactions, along with formative context for race and class relations that shaped the community, both in positive and negative ways. This 2016 documentary from the Oregon Experience provides a compelling and well illustrated history of the Vanport community that’s worth a watch.

From the cover of the video: “During the early 1940s, Vanport, Oregon was the second largest city in the state and the single-largest federal housing project in the country. Built quickly to house men and women coming to work in the Portland/Vancouver shipyards during World War II, Vanport boasted some 42,000 residents at its peak and offered progressive services for its diverse population. But one afternoon in 1948, a catastrophic flood destroyed the entire city, leaving about 18,500 people still living there suddenly homeless. Vanport tells the story of a forgotten city: how it was created and once thrived; and how it changed the region forever. It features first hand, personal accounts of former residents and dramatic, rarely-seen archival film and images.”

The origin story here is around World War II, and the wartime shipbuilding, and Henry J. Kaiser, who operated 3 major shipyards that built over – two in Portland, in St. Johns and Swan Island, and another across the river in Vancouver, which built over 750 ships and employed around 100,000 people at their peak in the early 1940s.

In order to house the growing and diverse population of shipbuilders, who were coming for a mix of opportunity and patriotism, Kaiser proposed in 1942 to build what would become the largest wartime housing project in the United States, a new community of over 40,000 people in a 650 acre tract wedged between the Columbia River and Columbia Slough in North Portland. The plan of the community, completed in 1943, shows the general layout, including over 9,900 individual apartments, built cheaply and quickly. The size and diversity of the community, which included a diversity of White, Black, Asian, and Native American workers, as well as a large percentage of the workforce made up of women, who were recruited from all around the country to come to Portland to support the war effort.

From the documentary, the community also had a hospital, police station, library, fire station, transit, shopping, grocery, schools, recreation centers and even a move theater. While there was an effort to make the community livable, and improve ‘quality of life’, the goal was also production, with buses ferrying workers to and from shipyards, which operated 24 hours a day.

Aerial view of Vanport – from the Oregon Encyclopedia

The relationship of the plan is woven around water, and the history of flooding of the wetlands and sloughs within which Vanport was built could be said to be both amenity and omen. Some images from the documentary show life around these waterways, including beaches on one of the two lakes, and some exploration around the Slough and it’s tributaries that wove throughout the community.

Vanport Location – via Vanport (Oregon Experience)

As mentioned in the documentary, the cafeteria was located adjacent to the beach on one of the lakes, with water-loving cottonwoods woven throughout. And beyond what was referred to as a “slightly ill-kempt public park”, kids found waters of the Slough the real playground, using make-shift rafts to find turtles, bullfrogs, and tadpoles.

Post World-War II the idea was for the temporary city to be demolished, and as people starting moving out, some structures were removed. A housing crisis kept Vanport a necessity, as a combination of post-internment Japanese, blacks who could not find housing due to red-lining in the greater Portland area, and lack of housing for post-war returning soldiers, all combining to provide affordable, if somewhat ramshackle, housing for a variety of residents. There was also a Vanport College, founded in some of the vacant buildings, which eventually became Portland State University. For the growing Portland area, “mud on the shoes” meant you were from Vanport, which was seen by the greater Portland community through the lenses of racism as a slum.

In the winter of 1947-48, conditions started to shift towards catastrophe. Heavy snowfall coupled with more intense spring rains swelled the Columbia Rise, which flowed in mid-May at a rate of 900,000 cubic feet per second (cfs), which was almost double the normal flow. This led to the need for reinforcing dikes and sandbagging, along with regular patrols by the Army Corps of Engineers to ensure the perimeter was solid. At this point, there was a question of whether to evacuate, and an emergency meeting was held, but the thinking was that the dikes would hold, and if not people would get plenty of warming. A few days later things changed dramatically.

River Stage levels in late spring 1948 – via Vanport (Oregon Experience)

The entire Vanport area, as former lowlands, was surrounding on all four sides with dikes in order to keep the adjacent waters at bay. The massive vulnerability of the perimeter meant a lot of potential failure points. The dike along the railroad lines to the northwest of Vanport separated Smith Lake from the lower-lying Vanport area was just that failure point, seen in the map below.

The 30′ berm was ostensibly about protection of the railroad, so the integrity to hold that massive amount of water back during a huge flood event was less a priority, so water levels from Smith Lake started spilling over the dike, the railroad berm started degrading with water boils appearing and seeping thorugh, and on 4:17pm on the May 30th, the breach happened, as mentioned, a “600 foot section melted away.”

Railroad embankment failure – via Vanport (Oregon Experience)

Sirens blared, and people grabbed anything they could get their hands on to evacuated to nearby Kenton. As people recounted stories of “a wall of water” and climbed to their roofs to be rescued, it was exacerbated by the housing, which was built cheaply and without solid foundations, which began to float around, knocking into each other, as seen in the images below.

Houses in the aftermath – via Vanport (Oregon Experience)

The sloughs filled up with the initial flows, so people had 30 minutes to escape. With only one route available, Denver Avenue, the road was quickly jammed, and people started fearing that this area would also fail, so continued to sandbag and reinforce this zone, and people started walking through water as vehicles and buses were stuck. By Monday morning, Denver Avenue was also breached, along with other perimeter dikes, inundating the entire community. The extent of flooding wasn’t localized to Vanport, as it impacted the entire city and it was estimated to have caused over $100 million in damages throughout the basin. The displacement of 1000s of people meant that the flooding of Vanport was some of the biggest impacts, and they were long-lasting well after the water subsided.

There have been a number of stories that have covered the events around Vanport life and flooding, including loss of life, as well as its aftermath, such as investigating the absence of accountability for inaction on evacuation and the lack of dike maintenance that could have prevented the disaster. I’ve not seen critical analysis in general of the general wisdom of occupying the spaces and places like Vanport and its flood susceptibility, which were chosen hastily to fill a need, such as emergency housing in war-time, but are perhaps much less suitable for people to live long-term. Should the city have been demolished after ship-building slowed? It shows the impacts of larger social forces on disasters, and the brunt of that impact being felt by frontline communities.

Some of that aftermath is capture in this snippet from the Oregon Encyclopedia: “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.”

Iconic image of man holding boy – via Vanport (Oregon Experience)

The erasure of that history is part of this larger story, with little remnant or physical marking of the place and event as what was left of Vanport was demolished, burned, or auctioned., which is now occupied in parts with West Delta Park, Portland International Raceway, and Heron Lakes Golf Course. As summed up in the Oregon Experience, there is to this day:

“Little to remind anyone of a ‘once thriving city.'”

It an important piece of history around both race, building, and hydrology to investigate in Portland, so expect to hear more about this. The Vanport Mosaic site provides a great opportunity to learn more, and there are some other films on the topic, including a documentary ‘Vanport and the Columbia River Floods of 1948‘, produced by the National Weather Service, and ‘The Wake of Vanport‘, produced by local independent paper The Skanner in 2016.

HEADER: Image of flooding with newspaper Headline – via Oregon Experience

Hidden Hydrology

Category: cultural

Ghost Streams and Redlining

Vancouver Rainways

The Lost Suburbs of Los Angeles

Ghost Rivers of Baltimore

Tokyo Drift

Restoring Swede Hollow

A Brook in the City

A Brook in the City – Robert Frost

Belfast’s Hidden Rivers

Vanport Mosaic

Vanport Mosaic Exhibits

Additional Stories

Vanport, A Story of Loss