A favorite precedent of mapping around water was the DC Water Atlas by John Davis, which explored historical waterways and some of the hidden layers of the hydrology of Washington D.C. in an interactive way. A recent mapping effort, The D.C. Underground Atlas by Elliot Carter takes a slightly different stance and approach, both in content and delivery, augmenting this previous effort and expanding the breadth and the way it is communicated via a series of interactive Story Maps. The thrill of peeling away perceptual layers of history and infrastructure interests many, which is reinforced from Carter’s introductory text:
“Washington sits atop an interconnected layer cake of transportation, utility, and pedestrian tunnels extending three dimensionally beneath city streets. Given their importance to daily life in the nation’s capital, it’s surprising to find that the full picture of Washington’s various tunnels remains unpainted. This project aims to complete that picture.”
While the previous effort by Davis was focused specifically on water, the new effort focuses on ‘tunnels’, in the sense that they are accessible. As mentioned by Carter “In order to limit the scope of the project, “tunnels” are defined as fully walkable passageways – no sewer pipes, culverts, or crawlspaces. All the tunnels depicted can accommodate standing adults, assuming that they have proper access credentials.” What are included are maps of multiple transportation modes, water, steam and sewer infrastructure, as well as pedestrian tunnels and the specialize subterranean elements supporting the Capitol Mall.
With a short intro page, the interface gives you the option of Maps or Text, each taking your through a narrative with images, text, and maps that shift and zoom and layer additional information to tell a story of each of the particular types of tunnels. For instance, the Sewer story starts with historical mapping with some information on the early sewage system, and then moves along a timeline, showing early infrastructure and how it evolves into more contemporary systems.
The sequence expands to show, with historical imagery, such as this showing the building of the combined sewer system in 1882 along with the major lines that were built at that time, and more recently a larger scale modern tunneling for new treatment facilities.
Obviously the focus on tunnels gives it a specific scale, and it’s not necessarily capturing the total water story, but showing the amount of subsurface infrastructure that exists, under our feet. The Aqueduct mapping leads more through the path of movement of water from source, with stops at major point, showing how you can adapt the Story Map to fit the particular type of infrastructure, in this case following a path.
For selected categories, the essays are more expansive, such as the breakdown of Aqueduct Tunnels, which expands the spatial narrative with some more rich history. One of those points is the use, like many other cities, of wooden water pipes, in this case one from around 1810.
A wooden water pipe from Pennsylvania Avenue, installed circa 1810. Photo: Army Corps of Engineers/Public Domain
Another is the great historical images of the brick aqueducts, such as these 9 foot diameter pipes leading to the Dalecarlia Reservoir.
Photograph in Peale album, Washington Aqueduct. PG.66.25.41.
And more diagrams showing cool images of some of the documents, in this case coded to show the type and material of tunnels and their depths as the Tunnel traversed the landscape. (click to enlarge)
Cross-section of the Lydecker Tunnel topography. The tunnel was advanced via vertical drop shafts at Foundry Branch, Rock Creek Park, Champlain Avenue, and McMillan Reservoir. Illustration: Washington Aqueduct/Public Domain
The story has multiple parts, remnants of abandoned infrastructure as well has a unique quality, such as the Sand Filters near the McMillan reservoir, in which “The underground vaults created their own weather systems when the sand filters were still in use, with internal clouds and condensation”
Photo: NPS/Public Domain
Lots more to explore here for sure, and if your thing is other, non water- types of infrastructure, this has lots and lots of layers. While the DC Water Atlas, as I pointed out had an exploratory, video-game like quality, this D.C. Underground Atlas has more of a linear spatial narrative that is more direct. Both have merits in making something that may be less compelling in an essay more engaging an accessible in map format. As a form of storytelling it’s great, and perhaps the best story comes in the form of daring subsurface navigation, mentioned in the article in CityLab,
“…Carter says the “single most epic Washington tunnel story” might be the adventures of Don Bloch, a Washington Star reporter who wrote for the paper for about a year. In 1934, Bloch convinced the inspector of maintenance at the pumping station to let him cross the city through its sewers for a Sunday feature. Equipped with a flashlight, rubber boots, and a gasmask, he hopped down manholes from street to street, with “cloud watchers” who would warn him if a storm might pose a risk from rising waters. Bloch’s tour guide shoved him in a trunk lid for a ride on the waters leading into Rock Creek. Carter says it might be the “best thing in stunt tunnel journalism Washington has ever produced,” but Bloch’s story remains sort of an enigma to Carter. One of the few details he has been able to verify about him: He co-founded the Speleological Society of the District of Columbia in 1939. No mystery there, it’s not much of a leap from tunnels to caves.”
HEADER: Historical Sanitary System – via D.C. Underground Atlas (www.washingtontunnels.com); this and all images in this post via the site
A search of the history of Portland will inevitably unearth a reference to a strange collection “Portland Oregon A.D. 1999 and Other Sketches” by Jeff W. Hayes. Published in 1913, this long story, often referenced in the realm of science fiction or futurism, envisions a Portland as remembered by the protagonist, an elderly woman recounting her visions of the future. As other utopian visions, it is both a product of its time and has an air of moralism, but if you read it as I did for some prescient thoughts on a future as envisioned over a century ago, it’s somewhat intriguing at time. A short bio of Hayes here from the UW Center for the Study of the Pacific Northwest gives a bit more context: “He framed this tale so that it resembled Edward Bellamy’s Looking Backward (1888). The main character is an elderly woman who has seen Portland in the year 1999 and returns to the city around 1911 to offer “prophecies” of how life would change. Her predictions emphasize how technological change and social reform produced a sort of Christian socialism that would make Portland a nearly perfect city. Note how people of color are described at the end of the included text. In a chapter not included here, Hayes’s prophet envisioned a truly utopian transformation—doctors, lawyers, and ministers who work not for themselves but for the public good as defined by city commissioners.”
The reference to Bellamy’s work “Looking Backwards: 2000-1887” (which I have yet to read) is interesting as I recall that this was also a formative text for Ebenezer Howard, who wrote his 1898 “To-Morrow: A Peaceful Path to Real Reform” which was an early version of what was reprinted in 1902 as the more commonly known as “Garden Cities of To-Morrow” and the blueprint for Garden City Movement. I’m sure some further digging into Hayes would reveal some agenda for his writing Portland A.D 1999, but it seems like the use of common vehicle at the time to tell a good story, versus a manifesto in this case. While it is at certain times a bit boring, it does have some ideas worth noting excerpted here, but seriously you can read the whole thing in about 15 minutes (and for free, here).
I was struck off the bat with some of the statements, after setting up the scene, it’s mostly recounting scenes of different facets of life. Early on she visions things that were close to mark in terms of reality: “I could see people flying through the air in vehicles shaped like birds from the Atlantic to the Pacific and that the almost impenetrable forests of Oregon would one day be entirely laid low by the woodman’s axe.” (3) and while we’ve not achieved the sense of car-free city as outlined below, the idea of compactness and green-ness (perhaps with a bit more diversity than blue grass and roses) does hint at the city, and perhaps some things we could be focusing on more today:
“The city is compact and the business houses are lofty and well constructed, safety to occupants being the chief Care. “Owing to the fact that there are few, if any, automobiles or other rapid methods of travel to take up the streets of our city, there was an order issued by the City Commissioners removing the hard surface pavements and authorizing the Commissioner of Public Service to sow the streets in rye grass and Kentucky blue grass, so that the city of Portland is one perpetual system of parks, where the youngster may play to his heart’s content. Just imagine what a beautiful city we have and how our past day metropolis would pale into insignificance beside the picture I have drawn. Roses are planted in the streets and we are really and truly the ‘Rose City’.” (6)
Transportation does take a good portion of attention (including a strange balloon system for world travel – page 19). Presaging Elon Musk as well as many urban interventions for highway tunnels: “There are no more bridges across the Willamette river, tubes 75 feet wide at every other street taking the place of the bridges. These tubes are about a mile in length and start from Broadway on the West side and extend to Grand avenue on the East. Public docks extend from St. Johns to Milwaukie and cover both sides of the river, which is dredged the entire length of the dockage. “ With a nod to some of the land shaping that was more prevalent in Seattle, some of these interventions were a bit more ecologically destructive, such as hillside removal to create flat land for economic development, “Many of the hills back of the city, including Portland Heights, Kings Heights and Willamette Heights are leveled, only Council Crest with its historic traditions being allowed to remain. This gives a vast area to West Portland which is really vital to its business supremacy.” (7)
There are allusions to grand designs (reminiscent of City Beautiful), where ““The city, county and state buildings embrace five continuous blocks beginning at Jefferson Street running north, taking in Madison, Main, Salmon, Taylor and Yamhill Streets, each building being ten stories high and connected at each third story with its companion on the opposite side of the street for a distance of five blocks, making it practically one solid building five blocks long and each building ten stories high.” (8) With a utopian nod, Hayes does envision that police, and half of the judges were women, mentioning pioneering Portland suffragette Abigail Scott Duniway as an inspiration. The moralism extends to some inherent racism, in particular around token remnants of Native Americans and Asian immigrants in the city, with oddities like “The Chinamen, more particularly have fallen into the customs of the white neighbors and a much better feeling is manifest on both sides, which knocks the dreaded bugaboo about the yellow peril.” (14) Perhaps in that whiteness of spirit, it is mentioned things like lack of crime and the absence of jails, and in general “…less roystering, riotousness and lawlessness than existed earlier in the century.” (9) But is odd when directed towards schools with “…little need for an elaborate education, children are not compelled to go higher than the sixth grade, the rest of their education being made up by practical experience later in life.” (10)
The funniest moral statement, especially in the context of how many breweries, wine bars, and distilleries exist in Portland today, is around alcohol, as ““It was in the year 1950 that it became quite observable that corn, wheat, rye and other cereals entering into the production of alcohol had lost the power to ferment and to be converted into beer, wine and whiskey. This was a startling announcement to the old topers but it was nevertheless a fact and the science of making alcohol has become a lost art.” Weinhards and other brewers instead, thrive by’ “manufacturing a beverage which exhilarates but does not inebriate.” (16) I’m guessing this is the precursor for Kombucha, right?
A few interesting items that were interesting in terms of communication, include such things like video phones, computers (or the improvement of typewriters), and wireless, at least in some incarnation. For instance, futuristic Facetime “not only talk to a person over a wire, but you can actually see them, life size and just as they are, exactly as if you were talking to them face to face.”, wifi and the prevalence of cell phones ““Much telephoning is now being done by wireless and that branch of the service has developed greatly and is used to communicate with aerial vehicles.”, and perhaps scanning coupled with AI such as Alexa:“Take for instance, an item cut from a daily paper and paste it on the cylinder, or disc, and without further preparation, a voice will read off the item to you in a plain, clear tone.” (36-37)
On a larger scale, hints echoing the amazing reputation for sustainability was interesting, with lots of forward-thinking technologies mentioned, like “The lighting of the city is done by one immense electric light suspended in the air at a height of several thousand feet which illumines the city as bright as the brightest day.” and perhaps an early Eco-District idea, with “Heat is furnished by the city through a thorough pipe system and it is compulsory on all citizens to patronize the city’s heat.” Also mentioned is sustainable agriculture, with horticultural practices, “as a result many new fruits and vegetables have been put on the market, their flavor and excellence outstripping anything known in the early twentieth century.” (17) Further, open spaces are a big deal as they are today, even going so far as to replace previous taken lands. “Cemeteries have been turned into play grounds, tomb stones removed and no vestige of the former gruesome abode of the dead is visible.” (31)
And the biggest miss was the opposite of climate change, Instead of our rapidly melting poles, in this future “Ice was forming at the South Pole, each year encroaching more and more towards the north and some alleged scientific men predicted that the time would surely come when the ice deposit at the South Pole would be come so great and the weight so heavy, that it would result in throwing the earth off its present axis, probably tipping up old Mother Earth and reversing the positions of the Equator and the Poles.” (38). Crisis was averted due to volcanic eruptions melting this ice-cap, so we were not thrown off axis, but no hints were given as to what future catastrophe that held… perhaps something for the future.
From a specific focus on a water perspective, this was the age of progress and modernization, it is mentioned the massive yield increases which hint similarly to the Green Revolution aiding in huge production of wheat in Eastern Oregon, shipped through Portland through all parts of the world. Closer to Portland, the use of waterways is more traditional, mentioning that “Columbia Slough was reclaimed and most of the manufacturing industries are carried on at that point.” (7) assumes a slightly different take on ‘reclamation’. The more grandiose “movement on foot away back in 1905 to harness the ocean’s waves, but it was determined to be unfeasible. Later on, it was demonstrated that the project was a simple one and now the highway to the ocean is lined with poles carrying power developed by the ocean waves which gives an endless and inexhaustible supply and which is cheap and always reliable. This means of securing power is utilized the entire length of the Pacific Ocean, Atlantic Ocean and on all the Great Lakes, Chicago being the first city to try the experiment from the waters of Lake Michigan. “This discovery has had the good effect of making it possible to properly conserve the nations water supply and has created a new industry. Irrigation by means of huge air tanks filled with water and allowed to rain upon parched spots is the present method of irrigating and it works wondrously well.” (29)
Water supply was also mentioned, in the grand tradition of big infrastructure. While the Bull Run was logical, stretching a bit further north seemed excessive. As mentioned, “It was deemed necessary, about the year 1951 to in crease the water supply for the City of Portland and it was ascertained that the conditions at Mount Hood for bade looking to that place for a greater supply and it was decided to utilize the, as yet, great and untouched abundance of water offered by Mount St. Helens, and three years later the pipe line was completed, and water from beautiful St. Helens was turned into the new and immense reservoirs constructed for the ever-increasing population.” And in an interesting switch, the idea of eruption had some truth but was focused a bit on the wrong mountain, as Hayes’ protagonist states: “It was fortunate for the city that this new supply was projected and consummated just at this time for it was but a year later that Mt. Hood, which had been groan ing for some time began to belch forth from its intes tines a mass of smoke and lava which bared the moun tain of snow and caused much consternation among our people. The volcano continued active for several weeks, at intervals, finally entirely subsiding and it has been on its good behavior now for 25 years. Repairs were made to the pipe line and Portland, today, is getting a portion of its water supply from Mt. Hood as of yore.” (35)
Also, on topic of irrigation and water supply, the technologies for irrigation seem wildly odd, as outlined on page 11, in which is discussed:
“What might appear to the people of 1913 as very extraordinary, is the manner in which the streets of the city are sprinkled. A huge air bag with a rubber hose attachment is allowed to rise to a height of about 1,000 feet and water from the Willamette river is pumped up into it by the good old fire boat … “Attached to the air bag is a regular sprinkling machine… it is allowed to fall on the city, the air bag, of course, frequently shifting its position to give all parts of the city an equal show for a rain storm. This process is used whenever there is a drought in Multnomah county which, thank the Lord, is a seldom occurrence.”
The people of 2018 would think that is extraordinary as well. Read it, it’s fun.
HEADER: Unrelated, but I figured representative image of a Future City – Tullio Crali’s ‘Architecture’ – 1939, via Reddit
A fascinating part of the history of Portland is focused around the river, and the shifting dominance of early Willamette River settlements as the center. While the dominance of Portland as the major urban center of the metropolitan region is now long-since galvanized, there was an interesting span of time where the battles between competing towns over which one was going to become the . This saga is hinted at in other books, but is the focus on Eugene E. Snyder’s ‘Early Portland: Stump-Town Triumphant, 1831-1854‘ published originally in 1970 with a 1984 reprint as seen to the right. The tagline of “Rival Townsites On the Willamette” gives a hint to the particular saga, and Synder shows how the power struggle evolved in the early days of the region, mostly hanging in the balance by the specific determination:
Which of these towns was the Head of Navigation for the Willamette River?
For a bit of reference, it’s important to understand what the head of navigation is, and why this is important to the story of the evolution of Portland. By definition, the:
“Head of navigation is the farthest point above the mouth of a river that can be navigated by ships. Determining the head of navigation can be subjective on many streams, as this point may vary greatly with the size of the ship being contemplated for navigation and the seasonal water level. On others, it is quite objective, being caused by a waterfall or a dam without navigation locks. Several rivers in a region may have their heads of navigation along a line called the Fall line.”
Synder outlines many of these potential towns vying for becoming the major urban center, as seen on the map below. This includes communities up and down the span of the Willamette from St. Helens to the north down to Oregon City to the South. Between 1831, when a settlement was envisioned by in a pamphlet by Hall J. Kelley through 1847 when James Johns established St. Jonhs (now part of modern Portland), a total of eleven townsites were considered to be potentially the regional center, fed by overland migration to Oregon Country where hundreds of new settlers came from the east.
Map of Early Townsites – from Synder (p. iv)
As Snyder mentions, in the context of Manifest Destiny and the settlement of the west, it was “…the logic of geography that a great port would grow up near the confluence of the Willamette and Columbia rivers. These rivers were deep enough for sea-going vessels to come a hundred miles inland, to take on board the produce of the fertile Willamette and Tualatin valleys, whose increasing population would also provide the necessary market for inbound cargoes of merchandise.” (3) The evolution from Lewis and Clark’s quick stop at the confluence, and the early settlement of the area by Hudson’s Bay Company in a spot that eventually became Fort Vancouver, and the eventual agreement between the British and Americans on territory meant that there was ambiguity about the future, and many tried to establish settlements into the 1830s.
While the book focuses on much of the story, I want to focus on the water history of this facet of Portland history. Sauvie Island (originally called Wappatoo Island) was one of those early settlement areas due to it’s location and the confluence of the two rivers, evidenced by its importance to local native people as well. Fort William was an early established trading post in 1834, which connected to the Willamette as well as areas over into the Tualatin Valley to the west. It floundered due to the tight grip the Hudson’s Bay Company had on trade, who took over the island in 1836 for cattle, and it was taken care of by French Canadian Laurent Sauvé (thus it’s currently name). But was the start of the importance of this location for commerce.
Fort Vancouver (along the north bank of the Columbia River) was never considered as a potential key city because, even with good port facilities, it lacked access to much of the agricultural bounty of Oregon, so a site along the Willamette because key. When the British lost control of the area and left, Oregon City emerged as the front runner to be taking advantage of both water and access to the agricultural bounty as seen in their seal from the 1840s. Many of the settlers arrived and started in Oregon City, through the 1840s, and the town grew with building of things like sawmills and stores. While there was water access, there was significant issues with upstream navigation at this point due to The Falls, which provided a barrier to boats heading further up the Willamette River.
via – Willamette Falls Heritage | www.wfheritage.org/
Another big barrier that made it less likely, was again, the product of that key term, barriers to becoming the head of naviation. While upstream movement was impossible, access to Oregon City from downstream was a challenge, as Snyder mentions, it “…faced an insurmountable obstacle in the contest to become the Oregon metropolis. It was practically inaccessible to ocean-going vessels. The major barrier was the “Clackamas Rapids,” a gravel bar and shoals about two miles downstream from Oregon City, created by the Clackamas River as it enters the Willamette.” (26)
A few other towns emerged on the other side of the banks, but never really prospered. The only other major player upstream to emerge was Milwaukie, which were positioned downstream of the Clackamas Rapids and thus avoided the larger issues with Oregon City. A man named Lot Whitcomb was the major booster for Milwaukie, and he was instrumental in building the town up to a major player, and built sawmills, founded the first newspaper, and established ferry services, built wharves and shipyards, making it the largest and fastest growing town in the region. The competition continued, with water at the center, specifically who would attract shipping from areas like China and San Francisco, so Whitcomb looked at technologies like steam for sawmills, but most importantly, for ships, with steam powered vessels being more powerful and maneuverable. While both Portland and Milwaukie developed steam ships, The Lot Whitcomb, seen in this image from Vintage Portland was perhaps the most glorious for a time, using as a “model for his steamboat… the design of ‘the first-class fast North Rive boats’ on New York’s Hudson River.” (98) The ship also used coal instead of wood, and for a time tipped the scales back to Milwaukie. In the long run, the ship ended up being too expensive to operate, and amongst other factors, was eventually sold.
The debate again, hinged on the access to Milwaukie, and whether it could support passage of larger, ocean going ships – to become the head of navigation. Lots of debate there, and there were other issues to bear like lack of access to Tualatin Valley farmers and the steep terrain in Milwaukie along the shoreline, but in the end a key barrier emerged, exacerbated by seasonal water level fluctuations in the Willamette River, causing places to be too shallow for many vessels. The biggest sticking point here was a wide spot and central barrier known as Ross Island. Downstream, a clearing was also being developed that would become Portland, which avoided having to navigated further up the river, would win the battle for who was the head of navigation.
One side tidbit was learning why so many things are named ‘Linn’ in and around Portland and Oregon. Turns out it was a Senator from Missouri named Lewis F. Linn who pushed for a bill to allow for settlers to get 640 acres of free land when Oregon became part of the United States. Grateful settlers kept naming things after Linn, including Linn City (which lives on as West Linn), Linnton, and Linn County. The passage of this bill, along with Oregon Territory becoming part of the United States, created the framework for many of the land claims that shaped Portland. Many of these names of Couch, Pettygrove, Lovejoy, Stephens, Caruthers and Terwilliger remain in places, streets, parks, and institutions around Portland today.
Being considered the head of navigation and having access to shipping was a big factor in success, this was also coupled with a number of factors that influence success, such as access to the hinterlands (in this case the agricultural bounty of the Willamette Valley), appropriate amounts of developable lands (specifically flat areas adjacent to rivers versus steep slopes), and various other. Beyond just being an exercise in the best characteristics, there was circumstances such as the California Gold Rush, personalities, the human components that tend not towards the most rational acts, also in a similar vein a LOT of politics involved in this. The constant one-upsmanship and propaganda between towns in terms of flexing their importance such as having a newspaper, building factories and warehouses, and building and operating ferries and ships for transport of goods and people.
Thus the clearing along the west bank of the Willamette became the center of the growing area of the Portland townsite, which, aided by issues with Ross Island and Clackamas Rapids upstream, meant it had a great position to become that elusive and important head of navigation. Portland itself was growing, and while it still had stumps (painted white for visibility) poking out all over downtown, it was establishing itself as the metropolitan center. Names like Stark, Lownsdale, Chapman, Coffin, and Pettygrove all invested time and money in growing the city, with a focus on making it the key destination for settlement and water-based commerce.
More in depth on Portland at a later date, but Synder’s book does a good job of tying the specific development and boosterism that focused on establishing Portland as a center for river trade, including building docks, and warehouses, attracting settlement and business, including the Tannery, established by one of those founders, Daniel Lownsdale, which gave Tanner Creek its name, and Captain Couch, who as a sailor of good reputation aided much in creating a convincing argument for Portland as the head of navigation by discussing the perils of Ross Island. While Portland may have been ridiculed at times for its stumps in the streets, it was growing and became the city of many of these boosters dreams: “Looking at the Portland of 1880, with its population of nearly 20,000, compared with the few hundred in 1848 when he sold out, Pettygrove said, “It fills my heart with joy to see the great city where I once saw dense woods.” (46)
There were some other challenges, in particular those touting better access to the hinterlands, across the Tualatin Mountains, including Linnton, Milton, and St. Johns closer towards the mouth of the Columbia. The biggest threat was from St. Helens, which had good water access and good access to the Tualatin farmers. And while Portland also had access to both there was some question about a potential issue of a bar downstream near Swan Island that could impede water traffic, and the roads to Portland from the west were terrible, a muddy, steep slog for farmers to get there. So the solution was to build the Great Plank Road, which followed close to the route of Tanner Creek. From the Oregon Encyclopedia, it was “Constructed in 1856, connected productive agricultural communities in the Tualatin Valley to Portland. Paved with sixteen-foot, three-inch-thick wooden planks, the road offered an improved route from agricultural communities to Portland and its large market. Before the road’s construction, Tualatin farmers used Canyon Road, surfaced with rock and dirt and often nearly impassable in adverse weather conditions. Perhaps more important, planked roads allowed farmers to haul larger loads and at greater speed.” Again, a story of inventiveness and boosterism pushing solutions to overcome perceived competition. But, like many other solutions, it worked.
Canyon Road – before the plank road was installed – via PBOT | https://www.portlandoregon.gov/transportation/article/65584Historical Marker located in Downtown Portland – www.waymarking.com
Lots more in the book so I’d recommend reading for more. The fact that ‘Stump-town’ prevailed had to do with a number of factors, but in the end it was probably the difficulties with navigability up river that solidified Portland as the head of navigation that sealed the deal, and the competitors either disappeared or shrunk as important but secondary cities within the region. It’s a pretty fascinating read, and illuminates a part of the origin story not often covered in depth with other histories. It also adds a dimension (literally and figuratively) to the Willamette River and how it’s role in the development and continual prosperity of Portland included understanding not just a linear path in proximity to other resources, but how the configuration, depth, channelization, and profile, and how this creates barriers (as well as needs for modification including manipulation of shorelines and dredging) is an integral part of the story. And, while veering at times towards the minutiae that bogs down many historical writings, Synder manages to stay on task and keep focus to the main story, the differentiation of these towns and the machinations that led to the current scenario. For anyone wanting a fuller understanding of the connections of cities and rivers, it’s a good case study.
HEADER: Image comparing 1858 Portland to 1983 Portland – from Synder (inner leaf)
I’ve been wanting to write about Seattle’s Green Lake, which is an addition to round out the post these small Seattle lake stories, and supplement the coverage of the larger lakes Union and Washington. Green Lake has a special place for me, having lived close to it our entire time in Seattle, it’s been a place for fun, recreation, and even protest. This really cool cross-time image from Then & Again shows the juxtaposition of the current with the old, and Green Lake spanning this , here with “…the majestic USS Macon gliding above Seattle’s Green Lake on August 22, 1934. The airship was traveling to its new station near San Francisco but took a leisurely route with time for a number of photo ops along the way.”
The history of the lake goes back to similar era to the smaller Bitter and Haller Lakes and the larger Lake Union and Washington, as mentioned on the Seattle Parks website: “Geologists say the Vashon Glacial Ice Sheet, which also formed Puget Sound and other area lakes, formed Green Lake 50,000 years ago. Dredgings of Green Lake have produced volcanic ash from an eruption of Glacier Peak that occurred about 6,700 years ago.” The original lake was lowered 7-8 feet as park of early 20th Century Park improvements, and this 2014 article from Seattle Greenlaker ‘Olmsted and the Origin of Green Lake Park‘ offers a good introduction to the modern incarnation of the park and this process. In that post, it links to this great map from 1907 from the National Association of Olmsted Parks, which shows the development of Green Lake Boulevard and the areas near the lake as part of this process, and the first evolution of Green Lake as part of the overall Park System.
Via Seattle Greenlaker – Caption: Courtesy Frederick Law Olmsted National Historic Site, National Park Service, 02714-21. Used with permission.
If you were, like me, temporarily disoriented for a bit, it helps to rotate this drawing so north is up, and the more familiar shapes and lobes of the lake become clearer. I’ve also highlighted the old shoreline (dashed line) and the new shoreline (solid line w/ blue fill), so it’s clearer where the drawdown left space for the trails and more usable open spaces, with amenities like Boat Houses and beaches. The map also has information on the inlets and outlets, which I’ve highlighted below in a bit more detail for reference.
If you remember back a bit to my post of the exploration of Licton Springs, the sketch above is instructive, as this inlet #1 shows an inlet with a specific reference: the “Brook inlet box culvert 2’x6′ from Licton Min. Sprg.”, showing the subsurface connection to the spring that had been filled in previously but was still flowing from the north. A Bathhouse is shown, which does not currently exist, but there is a swimming beach access which is still in place today, along with the splash play and some open spaces.
There is another pair of inlets #2 a bit further west, near Corliss Avenue, with a label “Inlet box 1 1/2′ x 2′” and near there is one with a note “Old Inlet 18″x18” wood box” which has a note “very little flow now – some sewerage seems to enter it now.”
The final inlet #3, is to the west, showing a connection to an “Inlet-brook, 6′ wide, 3″ deep” that comes from the northwest, running under the streetcar track in a culvert before coming into the lake.
On the opposite side of the Lake, heading southeast, there is the Outlet, which is marked #4, near 4th Avenue (a few blocks from the proposed boulevard which would become current day Ravenna Boulevard), which was the natural drainage of Green Lake into Ravenna Creek. The reconfiguration of this zone and the shift of the shoreline created a larger area that now has sports fields, as well as a boat house and what is a popular beach access spot today. This is also adjacent to the larger commercial zone which is the hub of activity adjacent to the lake.
These flows in and out correlates somewhat with the 1850s maps, but does closely align with the the USGS Topo Map from 1894 (see below) of Green Lake that identify three inlets from the north and the Ravenna outlet heading southeast – which does line up with the hydrology shown on these 1907 drawings.
Historical Topographic Map Collection
The formal plan as presented to the Seattle Parks Commission in 1910 mirrors much of the modern day condition, with the lowered water levels providing for perimeter trails, new plantings, a new island, some amenities such as beaches and boathouses, and the boulevard that rings the park (the western half of which was transformed with the routing of Aurora Boulevard (Highway 99).
And another version, this one from 1925 showing a more colorful version of this, “Proposed Plan for the Development of Green Lake” via the Seattle Municipal Archives Digital Collections. This map dashes in the existing and proposed shorelines
I posted previously about the fun bathymetry maps, which included Green Lake. Another map I like is this one ‘Showing Depth Contours of Green Lake’ via the Seattle Municipal Archives Flickr page, which was done in 1938 as part of the Sanitary Survey by the WPA and featured in the “Report on Green Lake Algae Control”, which highlights perennial water quality issue . It reinforced that the lake is relatively shallow, with maximum depths no greater than 25′ feet on the western edge. It also identifies some of the hydrology, including overflows, intake from the City resevoir, and to the west, a “permanent inlet from deep springs” which is a fascinating addition both due to it’s mystery and also it’s location, which is not shown on later maps but does appear in the 1950s map.
The history of the lake beyond that Olmsted plan has many facets and this Chronology is helpful to see the evolution. There many tales (and History Link is a great resource here) that connect with Seattle history, such as in 1869, when David Denny “…kills what is likely the last elk in Seattle, near Green Lake. The elk weighs 630 pounds.”, or 1893 when a cold spell froze the lake completely over. including of Hydroplane boat races in the 1930s, as well as a cleanup and redesign in 1936. Lots of history and evolution I won’t get into here, as it’d take days, but my favorite lost part of the Green Lake history, which I only discovered by accident after visiting the park many times, is the Aqua Theater, built in 1950 on the south edge of the lake as a 5,500 seat performance venue, built in a little more than two months coinciding with the first of what is now an annual Sea Fair.
The venue hosted a range of events included the annual Aqua Follies, which included ” Water ballets, diving exhibitions and clown acts took place in the pool and on the stage behind. Many of the Aqua Follies mermaids were recruited in Minneapolis before June 1, and began practicing before Seattle area college students finished their school term.” There were some notable music shows including 1969, which featured Led Zepplin and The Grateful Dead, which was one of the final shows at the venue before it was shut down.
The lake as a locus for recreation has stayed consistent over the years, with lots of walkers and joggers circling the 3 mile loop, along with water access via boat rentals, rowing, and use of adjacent open spaces sports fields, and even a Par 3 golf course. Water quality issues are a perpeutual issue, but it doesn’t stop it from being the busiest park in the state of Washington, with over a million visitors a year.
Postcard circa 1950s – via Seattle Greenlaker – https://www.seattlegreenlaker.com/2017/06/green-lake-seattle/
There is no shortage of articles written on the Los Angeles River, and I’ve covered some of the broader hidden hydrology work being done there in a previous post here, Beyond the LA River. I do however have a special affinity for the quality of scholarship on Places Journal, and an essay from May 2018, Willful Waters by USC’s Vittoria Di Palma and Alexander Robinson doesn’t disappoint. This longform essay provides a great background and historical framework for anyone wanting to understand the river and it’s long and contentious history, as well as recent efforts of revitalization and reconnection. It also comes with a great collection of historical imagery, which elevates our thinking out the past, present, and future river beyond the concrete ditch we tend to associate with the Los Angeles River.
I’d recommend the essay in its entirety, so I’ll just include a few snippets and comments I thought were compelling. At first I was a bit confused about their allusion to the Thomas Cole series The Course of Empire in this context, but after some explanation, it’s an interesting framework in which to think about hidden hydrology, in terms of binaries such as life/death or sin/redemption, and as a “cyclical” journey from wildness through some sort of apex and back through destruction and desolation. That narrative begins another cycle of “revitalization” and “restoration”. As the authors mention: ” If not for the galvanizing effect of a set of historical ideas — the belief that a site, destroyed and degraded by human industry, could be transformed into something evocative of its original condition through the power of “nature” guided by enlightened design — Los Angeles might have continued to forget that it ever was a river city.”
Los Angeles River in the early 20th century. [Security Pacific National Bank Collection, Los Angeles Public Library] – via PlacesFrom a historical viewpoint, the idea of a soft, meandering river is hard to comprehend, but also is the origin of the city itself, supporting described as “…a stream trickling through a wide sandy bed.” with “The river basin was overspread with springs, marshes, and shallow ponds (the very name of La Cienega Boulevard recalls the landscape’s original swampy character), and the debris from the mountains, deposited over centuries, created a layer of alluvial silt that in some areas lies 20,000 feet thick.” This lack of structure meant lots of variability, which created unpredictable volatility during storms and “rain events” in which “…waters would rush down from the mountains, carrying gravel, silt, boulders, and trees.” This factor would ultimately lead to the demise of the river itself.
Edward O.C. Ord and William Rich Hutton, Plan de la Ciudad de Los Angeles, 1849. [Los Angeles Public Library] – via PlacesThe other interesting idea was the concept of zanjas (irrigation ditches), in which there were miles built as shown in the above map: Quoting John Shertzer Hitell, “The “zanjas, or irrigating ditches, run through the town in every direction.” They “vary in size, but most of them have a body of water three feet wide, and a foot deep, running at a speed of five miles an hour. They carry the water from the river to the gardens, and are absolutely necessary to secure the growth of the fences, vines, and many of the fruit trees.” The image below showing how these canals were parts of the fabric of the city, enclosed but still open and visible, and enlivened the place, as mentioned in a reference to visitor Emma Adams, who commented on “…the soft murmuring of water as it glides through the zangas [sic] in some of the beautiful suburbs of the city is sweet music to the ear, a happy voice sending out joy and gladness. Wherever it is heard are sure to be seen verdure, flowers, and fruit.” In this way, the wild and unpredictable Los Angeles River was remade into a tractable urban water source.”
A canal, or zanja, on Figueroa Street, Los Angeles, ca. 1892. [Security Pacific National Bank, Los Angeles Public Library] – via PlacesThe manipulation of the river for utilitarian purposes followed many others before it, but foreshadowed larger interventions of control. As the authors point out, “Los Angeles was shaped by a dual need to be at a safe distance from its unpredictable, flood-prone river, and in close contact with the river’s highly controlled, artificial reincarnation: the zanja madre and its network of ditches. This relationship between city, river, and ditch is illustrated by the map drawn up by Ord and the surveyor William Rich Hutton in 1849. Agricultural lands occupy the area between the river and the city up on the Elysian Hills, with the southerly extension of both fields and city closely conforming to the route of the zanja madre. At the same time, the problematic nature of the flood-prone river is indicated by this inscription: “sand over which the River spreads its waters which are wasted.” They go on to conclude that,“The zanja madre was, in other words, the Los Angeles River tamed and perfected by the improving force of human culture.”
Los Angeles River and the Fourth Street Bridge, 1931. [Herald-Examiner Collection, Los Angeles Public Library] – via PlacesThe river at the time was still natural in most places, but the canals soon depleted water levels, and created a trickle, which was the impetus for Mulhollad’s hyperbolic yet apt “Titanic Project to Give [the] City a River”. After this change to more consistent supply, which included piped water from the Owens Valley some 233 miles away via aqueduct, the Los Angeles River only emerged during rain events, those “… “intermittent moments when it flowed with a violence that only intensified as galloping urbanization further hardened the city’s watershed. No longer valued as a natural resource, the ever-wilder river was now feared as a “predator,” able to roam and strike wherever it wished.” This unpredictability and ensuing series of floods changed how people thought, thinking of the river as a “menace” and thus “perceptions of the river were changed irrevocably.”
Los Angeles River at Griffith Park, ca. 1898–1910. [California Historical Society Collection, USC] – via PlacesThe flooding was the final impetus to use new technology to “train” the “unruly dog” of a river, which seemed to be the particular bailiwick of the Army Corps of Engineers, and creating what amounted to a “water freeway” that we know today. In a few short years, the Corps“ …systematically transformed the Los Angeles River from an intermittent, meandering stream bordered by willows and cottonwoods into the concrete storm drain we see today.” The authors point of the lesson of this today.
“In a textbook example of the triumph of reason and human agency over willful nature, the Corps created the ultimate Los Angeles fantasy of a river: a “water freeway.” That a drought-prone region would celebrate the speed at which water could be drained off to the ocean was an irony not then appreciated by either the military engineers or the public.”
Los Angeles River, San Fernando Valley, 1949. [Valley Times Collection, Los Angeles Public Library] – via PlacesPerceptions changed in the 1970s, and the media, politicians, artists, and environmentalists rediscovered the river in a variety of ways. A series of articles in the Los Angelse Times by Dick Roraback in 1985 entitled , ” “Up a Lazy River, Seeking the Source: Your Explorer Follows in the Footsteps of Gaspar de Portola.” provided a poignant story about the forgotten waterway, where “… the author narrated his expedition from the river’s mouth to its putative source, chronicling the riparian habitats of its flora and fauna. Roraback’s picaresque tale turned the Los Angeles River into an incongruous backdrop for a cast of quirky urban characters (the blonde waitress, the salty sea dog, the mussel gatherer, the dog-walking divorcée) engaged in various activities, both licit and illicit, in the river and along its banks. By presenting the river as a neglected urban feature, the series brought its paradoxical charms to the attention of a large new audience, and, crucially, positioned the river as a postindustrial terra incognita — an attractive, slightly dangerous, and alluring urban landscape.”
Further work by artists and others who started exploring the waterway, and ultimately went on to found the Friends of the Los Angeles River, started to think about the area in different ways, and through exploration, began as a “…characterization of the river as a paradise lost, a place of discarded things and marginalized people, served to ignite a potent landscape imaginary. It also introduced the idea of the river as a space for environmental action. ” This was aided by the Donald C. Tillman Water Reclamation Plant which added 20 million gallons of water per day, which had an effect of revitalizing the ecology of the river. “This infusion of wastewater generated a verdant riverscape, which in turn, and somewhat improbably, inspired comparisons with the earlier paradise described by Father Crespí and sparked talk of a riparian rebirth. As the changing river increasingly evoked that lost, idealized waterway (particularly in the unpaved eleven-mile stretch known as the Glendale Narrows), it also inspired residents to take up walking, bike riding, bird watching, horseback riding, and even kayaking and canoeing…”
Los Angeles River, Glendale, with a bicycle path along the banks. [Creative Commons] – via PlacesThe kayaking wasn’t always for pleasure, as it was interesting to learn that a waterway has to be navigable to be eligible for the Clean Water Act, so a group of people in 2008 kayaked the length of the river to provide its navigability. This meant that maybe “The fantasy of transforming the flood control channel into an arcadian waterway began to seem real. Kayaking has also become a powerful means of introducing visiting dignitaries to a vision of a newly green and civic river.” The final part focuses on the long and winding road of Revitalization, including master plans in through the 1990s and more recently efforts by interdisciplinary design teams, government agencies, and non-profits. These focused on ecology, hydrology, and recreation, amongst other factors, either as technical studies but more often than not art intervetions or designs. One such example is the Piggyback Yard Feasibility Study (image below), done by Mia Lehrer + Associates, which “…integrates economic and hydraulic modeling with community design considerations, but such efforts such are still few in number and small in scale.”
Piggyback Yard Feasibility Study, Mia Lehrer + Associates. [Mia Lehrer + Associates] – via PlacesThe mix of design, art, tours, and other creative methods of interpretation, often using minimal intervention, hint at “…the remarkable activity generated by the Los Angeles River — which as yet remains largely a concrete channel bisected by a thin course of water — testifies to the profound power of the city’s desire for ecological redemption and urban rebirth, and to ways in which civic or even poetic acts have found purchase within a byzantine network of managerial interests.”
Endnote:
The post in Places referenced above is an excerpt from what sounds like a great book, River Cities, City Rivers published by Harvard University Press and edited by Thaisa Way. Will track down and report on at some point on this book, but here’s a summary from the site: “Cities have been built alongside rivers throughout history. These rivers can shape a city’s success or cause its destruction. At the same time, city-building reshapes rivers and their landscapes. Cities have harnessed, modified, and engineered rivers, altering ecologies and creating new landscapes in the process of urbanization. Rivers are also shaped by the development of cities as urban landscapes, just as the cities are shaped by their relationship to the river. ¶ In the river city, the city river is a dynamic contributor to the urban landscape with its flow of urban economies, geographies, and cultures. Yet we have rarely given these urban landscapes their due. Building on emerging interest in the resilience of cities, this book and the original symposium consider river cities and city rivers to explore how histories have shaped the present and how they might inform our visions of the future.”
HEADER: Los Angeles River, view from 6th Street Bridge, 2010. [Ian Rutherford] – image via Places
The most recent October issue of Landscape Architecture Magazine (LAM) has a great story on hidden hydrology inspiration Anne Whiston Spirn, FASLA, titled Where the Water Was, which highlights the “long arc” her work in West Philadelphia, namely the “water that flows beneath it.”
The aha moment is recounted in the article, the inspiration for the poem linked above “The Yellowwood and the Forgotten Creek“, as recounted in the article, she “was on her way to the supermarket, when she was stopped at a gaping hole where the street had caved in over the Mill Creek sewer. “I looked down and saw this big, brown rushing river, and all this masonry that had fallen in. I thought, ‘My God, there are rivers underground. We’re walking on a river.'” (122) Sprin’s work spans decades since that story in 1971, predominately around Mill Creek which was “buried in the brick sewer pipe in the 1880s”, morphing into the West Philadelphia Landscape Project (WPLP) [covered in brief on our post on Philadelphia here]. While I was inspired as a student and professional by her work on books like The Landscape of Landscape and The Granite Garden, her work on hidden streams was perhaps the most powerful for me, both as an object of study but more broadly to leverage this research into a vehicle for positive change. As mentioned, the WPLP website “contains maps, historical documents, reports and studies.” including an updated interactive timeline, and some newer updated interactive mapping which is good to see, as much of the interface until late was a bit dated.
A long way from the preliminary maps in CAD as part of the early mapping in the late 1980s and early 1990s. The sophistication and breadth of this work at the time is telling thought, and I remember seeing these for the first time in college and being amazed. The article shows what many of us know, which is how much of what we take for granted in technology of mapping that’s available to us today, and how hard it was, physically and sometimes politically to get good information. As Spirn mentions “You had to literally go out and field check.” (134)
The takeaways of this early work was to both connect the above ground with what was underground, both historically in predevelopment hydrology but also with sewer routing and burial of waterways. As mentioned, the idea that is a constant with Spirn of “reading the landscape” was instilled as a way to understand the full picture of a site or district. The connection of the physical features with the social is also evident as Spirn is quoted: “It’s a pattern of eastern old cities and across the U.S., where lower-income folks are living in the bottomlands… Many are literally called the Black Bottom.” (126) From this analysis, the idea of mapping and using vacant lands was a way to solve the hydrological problems of flooding or sinkholes, but also to revitalize communities.
How to do it was an issue, as recounted in the article, ideas where one thing, but changing minds into action was another. McHarg’s Design With Nature inspired her writing The Granite Garden, not as an academic treatise, but rather “…to fill a void. Scientific journals, historical documents, topographic maps, all sorts of materials contained a wealth of information for ecological designers, but no one had pulled it together in a comprehensive, understandable book that could guide designers as well as the public.” (127) This book influences generations of landscape architects in many ways beyond merely historical ecology, but in how we think and communicate. For the project itself, Adam Levine (who is the mind behind the PhillyH20 project which i documented previously) found the 19th Century maps “that showed Mill Creek and its tributaries before the land was developed. Spirn’s students digitized those surveys and overlaid them on the city’s topographic maps, finally getting an accurate depth of fill along the floodplain. “We found it’s buried up to 40 feet in some areas…”” (134)
The actions were part of this research as well, and many interesting strategies came from the Vacant Lands report (see here), as well as a number of other projects, many of which took a long time to become reality, or came with ups and downs of poor implementation or. The successes came, owing to the persistence of Spirn and her local compatriots in West Philadelphia, summed up in the article simply:
“Change is a bit like a buried creek. It’s hard to remember its origins. Its many branchings are invisible.” (137)
The legacy locally is a series of activists still working on landscape and community building. Beyond that, there’s an army of landscape architects inspired by this project and her writings, and her life-long spirit of advocacy. A great homage to a wonderful teacher and landscape hero. Lots of great info in the article – which unfortunately isn’t available digitally at this time.
HEADER: Snapshot of Interactive Map of Mill Creek – via
Our understanding on the arc of history around hidden hydrology is informed with maps and accounts from early explorers and settlers to areas, augmented with records, diaries, and oral histories. Often this neglects and misses the valuable stories of indigenous inhabitants of areas, and leaves us with a significantly shorter timelines for reference. The role of archaeology is vital to unlocking the layers of hidden hydrology that don’t emerge from these illustrative written histories, so I was really intrigued with a recent tweet from the Museum of London Archaology (MOLA) (Twitter: @MOLArchaology) that told of their current work, called London’s lost river: the Tyburn. From their site, the project is the result of “…a team of expert geoarchaeologists whose work is helping us to understand London’s lost rivers. As an educational charity, we want to share what we’ve learnt, so please join us to explore the story of this long-lost river.”
Using the interactive ESRI Story Map, MOLA developed a narrative to describe the process and some of the key findings. Much of the work is conducted along with construction sites, which gives an opportunity to look below the surface while excavation is happening. The River Tyburn flowed on the north bank of the Thames, and most famously, was routed and defined the space called Thorney that Westminster Abbey was located, seen in this view circa 1530.
The origins of the river are tied to the longer history of the Thames, which is illustrated (see header image) and reaches back to the last glacial period of 11,500 years ago. From there in, “…this new epoch, known as the Holocene, the Thames began to take the shape we know today, but many channels still criss-crossed the river’s floodplain within the wide gravelly valley. One of these channels was the Tyburn, which flowed into the Thames.” In this zone, there are hundreds of sites, or ‘deposit logs’ that are recorded, and these are modelled to create a snapshot, particularly focusing on the depths of land (depicted below as green – high ground and purple – low ground. From this model, “projected possible courses for the River Tyburn, following the lowest-lying areas of the modelled 11,500-year-old topography.” with a caveat that “the river would have migrated over time.”
Drilling down (literally) into the specificity of the deposits shows the ranges of material and how it can inform, looking at “ancient flora and fauna” and focusing on things like Diatoms, Pollen, and fossils of things like “Ostracods, the remains of small crustaceans, can indicate salinity, water depth, temperature, water acidity/alkalinity”.
Below is “…a cross section, or transect, running north–south from Westminster to Vauxhall Bridge, along the north bank of the Thames. This connects deposit sequences recorded in trenches and boreholes, and helps us look at these sequences over wide areas.”
They also connect their study with the work of Barton and Myers 2016 book ‘The Lost Rivers of London‘ (see here for a post on the same), which speculated on a number of scenarios for the Tyburn, and various routes. There’s some graphic things I’d change here (namely it’s hard to read the Barton and Myers layers) but the concept is interesting, to overlay varying studies and ‘proof’ the concepts of routing. In essence, does the data reflect the speculation on routes, either reinforcing or disputing what was speculated? The below map is a composite of this
There’s links to some coverage in London Archaeologist, such as a 2014 article in which “… Tatton-Brown and Donovan used historic documents and maps to suggest that the medieval waterways separating Thorney Island from Westminster were man-made and that the Vauxhall Bridge route was the original and only course of the river.” The 3D views of the route and the illustration of the provide a speculative view of the area. From the site: “Our topographic model supports Barton and Myers’s suggestion that discussing two distinct branches (towards Westminster and towards Vauxhall Bridge) is an over-simplification of what was probably a more complex delta-like network, as shown [below] (artist Faith Vardy). This geoarchaeological study provides a baseline for reconstructing the evolving landscape; when combined with historical records and archaeology, even more detailed models could be created. The research done by others, such as Tatton-Brown, which focuses on later periods, may be supported by geoarchaeological work undertaken in the future.”
The concept of geoarchaeology is pretty fascinating as well, and worthy of some further exploration. In the interim, you can check out the MOLA site for what their team does, which focuses on using “…auger or borehole surveys and interpret the archaeological soils and sediments retrieved, allowing us to reconstruct past landscapes and environments.” The reason for this particular subset is to pick up “…where the archaeology is too deeply buried for traditional excavation techniques to succeed. It is also a cost-effective archaeological evaluation tool and geoarchaeological deposit modelling, which maps buried landscapes and deposits.” This is relevant as the surface remnants of these, but the underground deposits, so they work in a “…wide range of depositional environments, including alluvial floodplains, fluvial environments and estuarine/intertidal zones. Using palaeo-environmental proxy indicators, such as pollen and diatoms, we reconstruct past environments. Our specialists also use a range of sedimentological techniques.”
These techniques don’t answer every questions, but coupled with expertise and interdisciplinary research, enables us to see further, and deeper than previousl. The role of archaeology and geoarchaeology in hidden hydrology is vital, as shown above. While we often rely on maps, photos, sketches, and written histories to reconstruct places,
HEADER: Artist’s reconstruction of a cold climate, braided river, such as the Late Glacial Thames (artist Faith Vardy) – via
A few months back, I posted part one of this dual post on sensory ways of interpreting spaces and art with a focus on the amazing work around Smellscapes. Part two, as advertised, will shift gears a bit, to think about Soundscapes, and how audio can be used to illuminate places, tell stories, and engage the senses in new ways. And there’s a lot of exciting stuff happening in this space, and this will barely scratch the surface of what people are doing, but I am focused mostly on that which is relevant to the agenda of hidden hydrology, or in ways that are not directly relevant, could inspire some new methods of intervention and interpretation.
The idea of sound is expressed in a number of interesting ways, and more importance is placed on soundscapes in design, or the larger urban sphere, and the impacts of things like noise and how it impacts humans and other species. Or conversely, it may just be confronting the dilemma posed by White Noise, in their article about innovative sound artists “The Trouble With Sound Is That It’s Invisible.” New ways of thinking about these topics more holistically show up under terms like Acoustic Ecology, or Sonic Ecology, which thinks about it from a broader way of thinking. From the abstract of a introductory paper on Soundscape Ecology , the idea for the authors is that:
“The study of sound in landscapes is based on an understanding of how sound, from various sources—biological, geophysical and anthropogenic—can be used to understand coupled natural-human dynamics across different spatial and temporal scales.”
A great resource on the topic I’ve found is The Acoustic City, which is a book/CD and website focused “on sound and the city… The book comprises five thematic sections: urban soundscapes with an emphasis on the distinctiveness of the urban acoustic realm; acoustic flânerie and the recording of sonic environments; sound cultures arising from specific associations between music, place, and sound; acoustic ecologies including relationships between architecture, sound, and urban design; and the politics of noise extending to different instances of anxiety or conflict over sound. This innovative essay collection will be of interest to a wide range of disciplines including architecture, cultural studies, geography, musicology, and urban sociology.”
INTERACTIVE SOUNDSCAPES/WALKS
There’s a number of leaders in the field, but I will lead off with one of the rock-stars of this sub-genre that is doing inspired work around water is Leah Barclay, who seems to be everywhere doing amazing work. From her bio: “Leah Barclay is an Australian sound artist, composer and researcher working at the intersection of art, science and technology. She specialises in acoustic ecology, environmental field recording and emerging fields of biology exploring environmental patterns and changes through sound. Over the last decade her work has focused on the conservation of rivers, reefs and rainforests through interdisciplinary creative projects that inspire communities to listen.” One such installation is called Hydrology, which is a collection of sounds “…recorded using hydrophones (underwater microphones) in freshwater and marine ecosystems across the planet.” and River Listening, which is “an interdisciplinary collaboration designed to explore the creative possibilities of aquatic bioacoustics and the potential for new approaches in the conservation of global river systems.” Her work is also available at this interesting site 100 Ways to Listen, from Queensland Conservatorium Griffith University, which has a ton of great soundscape info, focusing on “exploring the art and science of sound and documenting a decade of innovative music-making.”
The idea of interactive sound around water has a few specific precedents worth focusing on hidden hydrology directly. A project I mentioned a few years back is relevant, SCAPE’s work in Lexington, Kentucky. which featured that of a series of listening stations and a self-guided ‘Water Walk‘ for their project around Town Branch Commons, to tell the story giving users: a broad understanding of the biophysical area around the Town Branch, reveals the invisible waters that run beneath the city, and demonstrates some of the impacts each resident of Lexington can have on the river and its water quality. By sharing how water systems and people are interrelated—both locally and globally—the Town Branch Water Walk makes stormwater quality relevant, linking it with the history, culture, and ecology of the city.”
Another project that really embodies the potential of this is a School of the Art Institute of Chicago (SAIC) project from professor Linda Keane and artist Eric Leonardson called RiverWorks, which is described as “…an interactive transient sound mapping and community engagement series of classes that reimagines and visualizes the sustainable world above and beneath the surface of the Chicago River. Challenging engagement with water, water habitats, water conservation and water quality, students activate new connections and thinking about the Chicago River as a healthy, working and recreational ecology. Inspired by John Cages’ 1978 Dip in the Lake series of acoustical experiences throughout Chicago, the course captures sounds of water, water use and misuse in the city.”
Students explore and create art, around walking, sensing, and as a project called River Listening, which is exciting as an “interdisciplinary collaboration examines creative possibilities for marine bioacoustics and the potential for new approaches to the conservation of urban global river systems… students fabricate hydrophones for listening for wildlife diversity below the river’s surface. Connecting invisible riverine life with urban water infrastructure, River Listening activates familiar places with unfamiliar information creating immersive spaces. Students experience interactive listening labs and document field recordings in preparation for sound maps, spontaneous performances, and installations that creatively use everyday technologies.”
An article in Open Rivers Journal from 2017 by Christopher Caskey provides a fascinating context for this work. “Listening to a River: How Sound Emerges in River Histories” which posits that environmental historians could use sound more to develop inquiry into environments. Drawing from Peter Coates article “The Strange Stillness of the Past: Toward an Environmental History of Sound and Noise”, in which Coates “argues both for “knowing nature through sound” and “picking up nature’s voices” in his case for analyzing sound in environmental history”, the article focuses this idea on rivers, ending with this important conclusion:
“Rivers are particularly auditory places. They make their own sounds and they have played important roles in influencing aural culture. Whether as a storytelling device, as part of an analysis, or even as an inclusion for the sake of posterity, the sounds of a river, both past and present, are worth documenting as part of the historical record.”
SOUND MAPS
An interesting strategy is to provide maps of sounds, which tie the auditory with the spatial, as mentioned in this abstract“growing research initiatives that take up soundmapping as a way of inquiring into pressing spatial, geo-political and cultural issues primarily in cities and also in the endangered wilds.” This happens in a few ways, but can include modern soundscapes, where there are no shortage of maps and sites documenting the sounds of places, including global maps, such as this one from Cities and Memory, or Locus Sonus and to cities as diverse as Charlottesville, Virginia, Florence, Italy, Shanghai, China, and Montreal, Canada (below)
The idea of mapping historical sounds does have a viewpoint, as it allows ways of connecting to the past, and appreciating the changing nature of urban environments. One of my favorites is The Roaring Twenties, which gives an extensive spatial overview of NY City by coupling noise complaints and newsreels with places and sounds – giving a hint of a place, more focused on the man-made than natural sounds, but the section ‘Harbor & River’ connects a bit with the hydrology, along with some info on Sewer/Water Construction.
Another extensive example is the London Sound Survey, which is a really ambitious project (more here). There’s interesting maps of a range of topics both contemporary and historical, including the hydrological, focusing on both exportation of the Thames Estuary, and a map of London’s waterways“An auditory tribute to Harry Beck’s Underground map, the skeleton which has long lent shape to the city in the minds of Londoners. Here sounds were collected from along London’s canals and lesser rivers.”
MUSIC
A number of interesting projects focus on music, which can be used to creatively engage with the environment. Re:Sound is an experimental music series which explores the relationship between forgotten spaces, sound abstraction and the natural environment.
The ClimateMusic Project is another sort of endeavor with a larger mission to “…enable the creation and staging of science-guided music and visual experiences to inspire people to engage actively on the issue of climate change.As an analogy for climate, music is familiar, accessible, and—for most people—much easier to relate to than articles or lectures. We created The ClimateMusic Project to harness this universal language to tell the urgent story of climate change to broad and diverse audiences in a way that resonates, educates, and motivates.”
The use of apps is an interesting option as well, melding GPS and music to orchestrate unique experiences that change and evolve as one moves through space. One I’ve always been excited about is by Bluebrain from 2011 and their installation“‘Central Park (Listen to the Light)’ … a site-specific work of music that responds to the listeners location within the stretch of green of the same name in New York City… work by tracking a users location via the iPhones built-in GPS capabilities. Hundreds of zones within the landscape are tagged and alter the sound based on where the listener is located in proximity to them. Zones overlap and interact in dynamic ways that, while far from random, will yield a unique experience with each listen. The proprietary design that is the engine behind the app stays hidden from view as the melodies, rhythms, instrumentation and pace of the music vary based on the listeners’ chosen path…. The app is the work itself. A musical ‘Chose-Your-Own-Adventure’ that does not progress in a linear fashion but rather allows the listener to explore the terrain and experience music in way that has never been possible before now. “Read more about this in a NY Times article ‘Central Park, The Soundtrack‘ from when it was released as well, and check out a short video here.
Phantom Islands is an interesting work that exists in the peripheral vision of Hidden Hydrology. Developed by experimental musician Andrew Pekler, which was part of an oddly intriguing show called Fourth Worlds, Imaginary Ethnography in Musical and Sound Experimentation. From the site: “Phantom Islands are artifacts of the age of maritime discovery and colonial expansion. During centuries of ocean exploration these islands were sighted, charted, described and even explored – but their existence has never been ultimately verified. Poised somewhere between cartographical fact and maritime fiction, they haunted seafarers’ maps for hundreds of years, inspiring legends, fantasies, and counterfactual histories. Phantom Islands – A Sonic Atlas interprets and presents these imaginations in the form of an interactive map which charts the sounds of a number of historical phantom islands.”
A screenshot of it is below of one of the ‘entries’, but you really have to go experience it, let loose and have fun.
And, closing the loop on the musical side, there’s a fun Billboard article ‘10 Songs About Rivers‘ which, I feel, focused a bit much on the contemporary and missed some classics, but fun to think about. The BBC has plenty of interesting music, such as the session on Playing the Skyline, in which “musicians look at how the land meets the air and imagine it as music.” And if we’re getting fully into the influence of environmental on music, a series of works by composer Tobias Picker inspired by Old and Lost Rivers, and even a Lost Rivers Opera from the Czech Republic, which i had a link to in the past but is now no longer working (anyone help there?)
So much more to explore, but this at least provides a primer on sound, and I’m excited to see more about how people are using this media to explore and expand our awareness, specifically focused on hydrology. Any ideas in that realm, please feel free to comment.
“Old Denver pulsed with H2O, water that snaked through the creeks and irrigation canals crisscrossing Colorado’s high prairie before 150 years of urban development buried most of them or forced them into pipes.”
A similar story to many cities across the globe, “…developers focused on filling in creeks to make way for the construction of railroads, streets, smelters and housing — all laid out across a grid imposed on the natural landscape.” This can be remedied today “…by reconstructing the urban landscape where possible, they’ll slow down water, filter it through vegetation to remove contaminants, control storm runoff and nourish greenery to help residents endure the climate shift toward droughts and rising temperatures.”
DENVER, CO – AUGUST 27: Newly planted grasses grow along Montclair Creek on August 27, 2018 in Denver, Colorado. The City of Denver is working on restoring the creek to help with future flooding. (Photo by RJ Sangosti/The Denver Post)
It’s heartening to see this large of a paradigm shift, and engineers, such as Bruce Uhernik, whom quoted saying:
“We’re just trying to take back that space and make waterways more natural and more beautiful. Why would people not want something to be more natural? This is being responsible — not just to what the city and people need, but to the environment’s needs. Birds. Fish. Trees that should be growing along these corridors. All these work in unison. If you break the chain, things fall off course.”
I appreciate some of the language, but the term “undoing history” is a bit strange to me as I always think of projects like this, in any form, as redoing history. I guess it’s your take on what is history: the original pre-development condition that needs to be restored, or the interventions and filling as the history that needs undoing. As mentioned, there’s plenty of history as “Historic Denver maps from the late 1800s show multiple irrigation canals and curving dotted lines denoting unnamed waterways, including a creek that flows through the Montclair Basin from Fairmount Cemetery toward north Denver industrial areas where smelting and rendering plants were located along the South Platte.”
Either way, it’s a cool project, and has some unique components and context, much of which can be found in the Denver Public Works ‘Green Infrastructure Implementation Strategy‘, a document broad interventions for stormwater and habitat. The prevalence of creeks is seen in the map of Recieving Waters (page 7) shows that while there are a number of urban creeks, they are impacted by residential, commercial, and industrial development throughout the region,
A series of maps in the report outlines pollutants of concern like Fecal bacteria and E.coli, Total Suspended Solids (TSS), Nitrogen, Phosphorous. This map (page 21) shows subbasin level designations of Nitrogen, which is elevated by human activity, and can lead to algae blooms, and issues with aquatic species.
A focus on the urban core includes the Platte to Park Hill (Part of area 20 above (City Park/Park Hill), which integrates a number of systems. As mentioned in the report: “Stormwater Systems is taking a comprehensive green infrastructure approach to better protecting people and property against fooding while improving water quality and enhancing public spaces. Four projects are part of the Platte to Park Hill… Collectively, the four coordinated projects will increase neighborhood connectively, add new park and recreation spaces, provide critical food protection, and improve water quality.” (page 54) The Globeville Landing Outfall project is one of these segments, as part of the strategy, using open channel design, which “…will help clean storm water naturally when possible and will move the water to its ultimate destination, the South Platte River.” A rendering of the plan:
The 39th Avenue Greenway (also seen in the header) also includes open channels for flood control and storm events. The opportunity to layer community function with these facilities is key, as they are “…designed using a community-focused approach to provide the following benefits in addition to flood protection… “ which includes new open space, bike/walking trails, and more. A rendering shows this integration.
An additional article from the Denver Channel provides a bit more perspective in video form on the Montclair Creek Project, including the “gray to green” approach “correcting past mistakes” focusing on the daylighted river weaving through a golf course and some more urban parts of the City, along with a greenway as mentioned above prior to outlet into the South Platte River. The funds for the project, which were not insubtantial at $300 million, were voter-approved, with “daylighting of old waterways that were forced into pipes and buried during the industrial revolution in favor or streets, railroads and homes.”
There’s a plethora of early maps of Portland, many of which I’ve recently included and cataloged here for reference. One of those maps I’d never seen before recently, oddly, is this sketch-map made by William Clark (yes, he of Lewis & Clark expedition fame) from April 3, 1806, featuring a sketch of the Multnomah River, “given by several different Tribes of Indians near its entrance into the Columbia.” The original link comes from this Oregon Encyclopedia article on the Wapato (Wappato) Valley Indians, found whilst researching native settlements in Portland, notably those around the important confluence of the Willamette and Columbia but getting a feel for pre-settlement use of waterways. The map is found in Volume Four of the Original Journals of the Lewis and Clark Expedition, 1804-1806, which constitutes the return trip of the Corps of Discovery from Fort Clatsop on the Oregon Coast back towards the east. The entry and fold-out map includes a remarkable amount of information including natural and hydrological features, as well as references to many of the tribes as alluded to in the title.
It’s amazing to see the detail of the map and density of information, in what I assume was field drawn, probably in a canoe, fending off bears while simultaneously collecting plant samples. I jest, but I’m constantly amazed at the ability of early explorers to represent places quickly and with much For me, at least, it was much easier to conceptualize graphically if you rotate the map so north is facing up, so the subsequent enlargements flip this over. This enlarged view shows the key features at the confluence, perhaps not drawn to scale, but remarkably accurate, including to the east, both the Washougal River (noted as Teal) and the Sandy River (noted as the Quick Sand). There are also notes on the various encampments on river banks, such as the Nechacolee and Nechacokee around Blue Lake in Portland on the south bank, Shoto up around modern day Vancouver Lake to the north and many more smaller encampments of the local Multnomah and Kathlamet tribes. To the west, around Wappato Island (modern day Sauvie Island) which was home to Multnomah, Clannahqueh, Cathlahcommahtup and others on Sauvie Island on the Columbia River, and around the other side of the island, known as the Multnomah Channel. See this additional post from the Oregon Encyclopedia for Lewis & Clark’s estimate of the Portland Basin Chinookian Village tribal populations here as well for more detail.
The same zone taken from a Google Earth image shows the general location of and features. The fidelity of the geography is a bit off (it’s a sketch map) but it’s all there.
Further south, the geography is a bit more sparse, but does include the upriver span of the Willamette (called here the ‘Multnomah River’) and it’s connection to the Clackamas River (heading east) including encampments of Clackamas along that river, and perhaps mis-estimating a bit how far away Mt. Jefferson actually was (see below)… and ‘The Falls’ which denotes Willamette Falls, which was an important settlements along this important confluence, and Charcowah, and Cushhooks near the Falls….
The same view of current day area, again with a bit of misalignment of the rivers, which probably comes from the map being adapted from a drawing done by a local tribal elder, but the general features there.
The text supplements the map somewhat, with stories of meeting a group of Shah-ha-la Nation and showing them the Multnomah:
“we readily prevailed on them to give us a sketch of this river which they drew on a Mat with a coal, it appeared that this river which they call Mult-nó-mah discharged itself behind the Island we call the image canoe island, as we had left this island to the south in decending & assending the river we had never seen it. they informed us that it was a large river and runs a considerable distance to the south between the Mountains.”
Clark takes a party to explore, and encounters huts from various tribes, along with harvesting of wappato and roots via canoes along the rivers, and found the hidden entrance to the Willamette (which he refers to as the Multnomah River, along with the tribes on Wappato Island and noted the depth of the. He mentions that he “…can plainly see Mt. Jefferson” which may allude to it’s proximity on the one map. As he continued to explore he mentions being “satisfyed of the size and magnitude of this great river which must water that vast tract of Country between the western range of mountains and those on the sea coast and as far S. as the Waters of Callifonia…” which if not totally true, does allude to the size of the Willamette drainage in at least draining a fair portion of NW Oregon. He continues by visiting a long house, and learns the constant refrain of deaths from small pox and starvation. He asks for a map of the area and the people from one of the elders. “I provailed on an old man to draw me a sketch of the Multnomar River and give me the names of the nations resideing on it which he readiliy done, and gave me the names of 4 nations who reside on this river two of them very noumerous. The first is Clark-a-mus nation reside on a small river… the 2.d is the Cush-hooks who reside on the NE side below the falls.”
They note the entrance to the Multnomah river being “142 miles up the Columbia river” from the Pacific, include the sketched map, and then are off, up-river, continuing eastward.
