This has been a very wet week.
I live in a bowl known as the Tualatin Valley, and a lot of water falls into it. Surrounded on all sides by low mountains, these plains are drenched by moisture from the Pacific Ocean. To the east is the Tualatin Mountains (Portland's West Hills), which divert the Columbia River to the north after it has carved it's way through the Cascade Mountains (forming the Columbia Gorge). These hills are a spur of the Northern Oregon Coast Range (where they branch away from each other is the northern border). The NOCR is the little brother of the Cascade Range further inland. While the Cascades form a rain shadow over central Oregon, the NOCR does not protect us from the heavy downpours generated by the worlds largest ocean. Closing off the valley in the south are the Chehalem Mountains.
The Tualatin Valley is a sub-sub-basin, with the Tualatin River flowing into the Willamette, then into the Columbia. The valley is the northern portion of the much larger Willamette Valley (separated by the previously mentioned Chehalem).
The borders of Washington County very closely parallel these same mountain ranges. In fact, when looking at the western border of the county, it seems the very basin I'm mapping served as a guide.This is not the only time this happens either, it seems that county planners are very hydrologically aware in many cases.
Long before the Tualatin Valley became the blueprint of counties though, it was the home of the Atfalati people. It is their name that now graces the valley, it's plains, river, highway, and many other features. Not the same word? Well, early settlers had a hard time pronouncing the name of the tribe, other common mispronunciations include Twality (the original name for the county) and Quality. However, the influx of European and Eastern-American immigrants, as is often the case, introduced disease and competition that drove the indigenous population to nil. Thanks to the Oregon Trail, the valley started filling up with settlers during the mid to late 19th century.
The saturation that this valley receives from rain fall turned it into a veritable Garden of Eden. The plains were fertile grounds for the hunter/gatherer Atfalati for thousands of years, who would burn it annually to refertilize the land and keep it largely tree-free. For the incoming White population, plentiful farm lands were a big draw. Also, with the soaked NOCR to the west, the timber industry was flourishing as well. The growing and thriving population was to prove instrumental in making Portland what it is today, the largest and most powerful city in the state.
As the number of citizens grew, various towns and cities were incorporated in the Tualatin Valley during the 1870's. Their booming industries fed an ever increasing economy. The first major transportation in the area, and thus the method of moving the goods to make the money, was by boat. Steamers traveled up the Tualatin river and lower parts of some of its tributaries. But the Tualitin enters the Willamette near Oregon City, which, thanks to it being the "official" end of the Oregon Trail, was quickly becoming the powerhouse of Oregon. As the California Gold Rush was coming to an end, politics were shifting in Oregon.
Movers and shakers were investing heavily to make Portland the new "it" location of Oregon. The Oregonian news paper was founded to preach this new sermon. And money was found to create a plank road between Beaverton and Portland through the Tualatin Mountains (now largely covered by the Sunset Highway 26 and Canyon Rd). The success of this road brought the goods of the Tualatin Valley to Portland, rather than any other city, thus contributing to its success as the deep-water port of the Columbia River. From Portland, the goods would be shipped largely to San Francisco to where former miners of the Gold Rush were settling.
While the main river of the Tualatin Valley is the river by the same name, these plains are criss-crossed by a number of creeks, streams, and other waterways. The plank road, though the easiest, shortest path through the West Hills, was a a soaking mess. Beaverton itself gained its name due to the number of beaver dams that had flooded portions of the valley. Despite the amount of rain and running water, there are no real lakes in the valley. About one third of one percent is considered to be "water" as opposed to "land".
While the initial financial success of the Tualatin Valley was due to lumber and farming, it has not fallen behind the times. Indeed, the area is referred to as the Silicon Forest (to mirror the Silicon Valley of California). High-tech industries are major employers in the area, with big names like Intel, Tektronix, XEROX, H-P, and Yahoo leading a long list of others. Additionally, the population boom has not ended. Hillsboro and Beaverton are the fifth and sixth largest cities in the state.
The name for the Tualatin River is often translated as "sluggish" or "slow". The Tualatin Valley or Plain is very flat and low, not a lot of areas for water to pick up speed. For the most part (not including the mountains that makes up its borders) the area is below 200 above sea level. Although closer to the North Pole than the Equator, snow is relatively rare on the valley floor.
Next, I will share another incomplete project of mine that ties in with this subject.
Happy hunting,
Brett
Columbia River Basin
The river basin mapped in Google Earth.
Thursday, December 30, 2010
Friday, December 24, 2010
Merry Christmas on the Columbia
Just a quick holiday greeting from the basin.
We have just been visited by Santa Claus (11:15 PM, local time). According to Norad, Santa had four major landings within the Columbia Basin: Missoula, Montana; Boise, Idaho; Columbia, Washington; Newberg, Oregon (my neck of the woods).
Missoula is on the Clark Fork River, which feeds in to Lake Pend Oreille, drains into the Pend Oreille River, and finally into the Columbia River. Boise is on the river of the same name, which is a tributary of the Snake River, which feeds directly into the Columbia. The delivery stop referred to as Columbia, WA by Norad is an area around Gifford, on the Columbia itself. Finally, Newberg is a city on the Willamette, which has its confluence with the Columbia at Portland, OR. Newberg lies in the shadow of the Chehalem Mountains, which will be discussed further when I get back to my promised topic of the Tualitin Valley, my home, sweet, home.
Merry Christmas and happy hunting,
Brett
We have just been visited by Santa Claus (11:15 PM, local time). According to Norad, Santa had four major landings within the Columbia Basin: Missoula, Montana; Boise, Idaho; Columbia, Washington; Newberg, Oregon (my neck of the woods).
Missoula is on the Clark Fork River, which feeds in to Lake Pend Oreille, drains into the Pend Oreille River, and finally into the Columbia River. Boise is on the river of the same name, which is a tributary of the Snake River, which feeds directly into the Columbia. The delivery stop referred to as Columbia, WA by Norad is an area around Gifford, on the Columbia itself. Finally, Newberg is a city on the Willamette, which has its confluence with the Columbia at Portland, OR. Newberg lies in the shadow of the Chehalem Mountains, which will be discussed further when I get back to my promised topic of the Tualitin Valley, my home, sweet, home.
Merry Christmas and happy hunting,
Brett
Wednesday, December 22, 2010
Not so hasty
Rivers can be incredibly strong things. During savage flooding they can carry cars, houses, and/or large boulders, down stream. While most of the time the Columbia is not roaring hard enough to do that, it is carrying much smaller objects down stream all the time. The once wild and free flowing river carried uncounted tons of sediment over millions of years out to the ocean. But the ability of the Columbia to carry even sand and silt is greatly diminished by the wall of the Tualatin Mountins. Despite this, more than two and a half times the water cascading down Niagara Falls pours into the ocean over the Columbia Bar.
The mouth of the Columbia is a thirty mile long, four mile wide estuary. This relatively straight, east-west body of water looses its salinity when it reaches its first major bend. This is the low point between the Willapa Hills of Washington and the Northern Oregon Coastal Range. Upstream from here, the Columbia heads south for another thirty miles to the confluence of the Willamette River.
It's this second bend of the river that takes all of the steam out of the Columbia's energetic rush to the sea. Having just literally plowed through the Cascade Range to form the Columbia River Gorge, it finds an obstacle it cannot so easily tackle. The Tualatin Mountains, or West Hills of Portland, takes the brunt of of the raging river and slows it down. It is upon the last sixty miles of the Columbia's course that it dumps the majority of it's sediments.
Along this stretch of the river, there are about sixty islands. Although that amounts to one per mile, they are of such varying sizes and groupings that the estuary at the river mouth (half the length of this stretch) is mostly free of them. Once you reach the end of this curve, just before the Willamette joins the race for the sea, is Sauvie Island, the largest in the Columbia. This island is the largest cache of the dust of dissolved hills from thousands of miles away. Sauvie Isand has grown to a size large enough to fill half of the Columbia estuary, or replace the island of Manhattan. It has it's own system of rivers and lakes.
Seems a delicate thing to me, completely at the mercy of the river. Even this far in, the Columbia is still subject to oceanic tides.Yet a system of dams helps to prevent what would have once been very common flooding. Thanks to past flooding, much like the fertile delta region of the Nile, this island makes for great farm lands. Strangely enough, this island holds one of only two "clothing optional" beaches in Oregon (most beaches are far too cold, even in summer). The other is in the Columbia River Gorge.
This stretch of the river is highly navigable (assuming you can survive the Columbia Bar). Large, ocean freighters pass through this region to reach the Portland-Vancouver metro area. Nearly half of all US grain shipments pass through this area.
The Columbia basin, draining about eight and a third percent of the land area of the US, is it's second largest water system. The largest, of course, is the Mississippi. Yet because of this twist in the river causes by coastal mountains, it is denied a proper delta to make it's mark on the worlds imagination, as the Nile or Mississippi deltas do.
Next time, I'll talk about my stomping grounds in the Tualatin Valley.
Happy hunting,
Brett
The mouth of the Columbia is a thirty mile long, four mile wide estuary. This relatively straight, east-west body of water looses its salinity when it reaches its first major bend. This is the low point between the Willapa Hills of Washington and the Northern Oregon Coastal Range. Upstream from here, the Columbia heads south for another thirty miles to the confluence of the Willamette River.
It's this second bend of the river that takes all of the steam out of the Columbia's energetic rush to the sea. Having just literally plowed through the Cascade Range to form the Columbia River Gorge, it finds an obstacle it cannot so easily tackle. The Tualatin Mountains, or West Hills of Portland, takes the brunt of of the raging river and slows it down. It is upon the last sixty miles of the Columbia's course that it dumps the majority of it's sediments.
Along this stretch of the river, there are about sixty islands. Although that amounts to one per mile, they are of such varying sizes and groupings that the estuary at the river mouth (half the length of this stretch) is mostly free of them. Once you reach the end of this curve, just before the Willamette joins the race for the sea, is Sauvie Island, the largest in the Columbia. This island is the largest cache of the dust of dissolved hills from thousands of miles away. Sauvie Isand has grown to a size large enough to fill half of the Columbia estuary, or replace the island of Manhattan. It has it's own system of rivers and lakes.
Seems a delicate thing to me, completely at the mercy of the river. Even this far in, the Columbia is still subject to oceanic tides.Yet a system of dams helps to prevent what would have once been very common flooding. Thanks to past flooding, much like the fertile delta region of the Nile, this island makes for great farm lands. Strangely enough, this island holds one of only two "clothing optional" beaches in Oregon (most beaches are far too cold, even in summer). The other is in the Columbia River Gorge.
This stretch of the river is highly navigable (assuming you can survive the Columbia Bar). Large, ocean freighters pass through this region to reach the Portland-Vancouver metro area. Nearly half of all US grain shipments pass through this area.
The Columbia basin, draining about eight and a third percent of the land area of the US, is it's second largest water system. The largest, of course, is the Mississippi. Yet because of this twist in the river causes by coastal mountains, it is denied a proper delta to make it's mark on the worlds imagination, as the Nile or Mississippi deltas do.
Next time, I'll talk about my stomping grounds in the Tualatin Valley.
Happy hunting,
Brett
Wednesday, December 15, 2010
Burn, Sunset, Burn
I have driven to the Oregon coast on many occasions. A seventy-five mile drive from the suburbs, through farmlands, into the hills and forests. In an hour and a half you watch as all of the layers of civilization peel away, from city to wilderness, trading grays for greens. It's an easy trek to make, a bee line to some of the most beautiful beaches in the world.
Now, when most people think of a beach, they think fun and sun, bathing suits, and surfing. We have all of that, of course, but not in the abundance expected. What gives us beauty is the land itself, these remnants of once violent volcanic activity. The debris of a war between molten earth assaulting raging seas are ashes that have grown over with massive forests. The battles have calmed, but when I think about our beaches I always remember the wind. To what other coasts do people go wearing sandals and shorts with a coat? But it's great for flying kites.
Getting out to the beach cities is a strait shot down the Sunset Highway, an extension of US Route 26. This highway starts (or ends) when it meets Highway 101, which runs up the entire western coast of the US. On it's other end, the 26 heads out to terminate at the Idaho state line. Most of it's length is within the Columbia basin. The west end, however, is in this gaping hole in the basin. When driving west on this highway you will know the exact moment you have left the lands of the Columbia. Once you reach one of the highest altitudes through the Northern Oregon Coast Range on this road, you pass through the Dennis L. Edwards tunnel. This passage way is like a door from one basin to another.
On the other side of the tunnel you enter the basin of the Nehalem River, and the proper body of the Northern Oregon Coast Range. Most of these mountains serve as the border between the Columbia and the ocean on the western Oregon border. It houses several basins (some of which will be further blog fodder at a later time), but most of these lands do not belong to the Columbia. The Nehalem itself takes a strange course out of its mountains to the sea, like Pac-Man being chased by ghosts through a maze. Speaking of greedy gobbling, the forests of this basin are very heavily forested. I often find beautiful vistas utterly destroyed by fields of stumps. But what the forestry industry has done today cannot compare to what has happened in the past.
The Nehalem basin is nearly one thousand square miles. Today, more than half of it is state forest. But this forest is the result of one of the largest forest recovery projects ever. A series of fires over twenty years (enveloping the years of World War II), collectively known as the the Tillamook Burn, destroyed as much land area as is now under state protection. Fallout from such devastation must have seemed like the end of the world to those living in the Range. Such ash laden skies wouldn't be seen again until the eruption of Mt. St. Helens.
These mountains are also home to Camp 18, a logging technology graveyard/museum and wilderness restaurant. It is also the home of what was once the worlds largest, tallest, and oldest Sitka Spruce tree. However, those same winds that make kite flying such a joy, grew to a gale force and knocked off more than half of its height. It seems the wars of nature are not yet at an end.
Next time we'll visit the large S-curve that takes the Columbia out of Oregon's most densely populated areas, around the Northern Oregon Coast Range, and finally out to sea.
Happy hunting,
Brett
Now, when most people think of a beach, they think fun and sun, bathing suits, and surfing. We have all of that, of course, but not in the abundance expected. What gives us beauty is the land itself, these remnants of once violent volcanic activity. The debris of a war between molten earth assaulting raging seas are ashes that have grown over with massive forests. The battles have calmed, but when I think about our beaches I always remember the wind. To what other coasts do people go wearing sandals and shorts with a coat? But it's great for flying kites.
Getting out to the beach cities is a strait shot down the Sunset Highway, an extension of US Route 26. This highway starts (or ends) when it meets Highway 101, which runs up the entire western coast of the US. On it's other end, the 26 heads out to terminate at the Idaho state line. Most of it's length is within the Columbia basin. The west end, however, is in this gaping hole in the basin. When driving west on this highway you will know the exact moment you have left the lands of the Columbia. Once you reach one of the highest altitudes through the Northern Oregon Coast Range on this road, you pass through the Dennis L. Edwards tunnel. This passage way is like a door from one basin to another.
On the other side of the tunnel you enter the basin of the Nehalem River, and the proper body of the Northern Oregon Coast Range. Most of these mountains serve as the border between the Columbia and the ocean on the western Oregon border. It houses several basins (some of which will be further blog fodder at a later time), but most of these lands do not belong to the Columbia. The Nehalem itself takes a strange course out of its mountains to the sea, like Pac-Man being chased by ghosts through a maze. Speaking of greedy gobbling, the forests of this basin are very heavily forested. I often find beautiful vistas utterly destroyed by fields of stumps. But what the forestry industry has done today cannot compare to what has happened in the past.
The Nehalem basin is nearly one thousand square miles. Today, more than half of it is state forest. But this forest is the result of one of the largest forest recovery projects ever. A series of fires over twenty years (enveloping the years of World War II), collectively known as the the Tillamook Burn, destroyed as much land area as is now under state protection. Fallout from such devastation must have seemed like the end of the world to those living in the Range. Such ash laden skies wouldn't be seen again until the eruption of Mt. St. Helens.
These mountains are also home to Camp 18, a logging technology graveyard/museum and wilderness restaurant. It is also the home of what was once the worlds largest, tallest, and oldest Sitka Spruce tree. However, those same winds that make kite flying such a joy, grew to a gale force and knocked off more than half of its height. It seems the wars of nature are not yet at an end.
Next time we'll visit the large S-curve that takes the Columbia out of Oregon's most densely populated areas, around the Northern Oregon Coast Range, and finally out to sea.
Happy hunting,
Brett
Thursday, December 9, 2010
Is that a canal in your pocket, or are you just happy to 'sea' me?
I'm going a little off the promised topic this time. While mapping out where the Columbia basin first leaves the Pacific and heads inland across the Clatsop Spit, I came across some conflicting information. The land's elevation seemed to indicate that the basin cut across a high point in a valley between two hills and then followed the hill's ridge line south. However, according to the satellite images, there seemed to be a stream that was running up hill. I decided to let physics determine my decision. Further research proved I was both right and wrong in this decision.
I was right with my inclination in that this area marked the natural border of the Columbia basin. But this was the first time I had encountered a modified basin. It turns out that mankind has performed the Herculean task of changing a river's course. In doing so, the basin of the Columbia has been enlarged.
As mentioned previously, the Skipanon river is the first true tributary of the Columbia. However, at only about 3 miles in length, no one was impressed. The people of Warrenton were perhaps suffering a big of creek envy. Not satisfied with their river's length, they enlarged it.
Nestled in the hills east of Sunset Beach is Cullaby lake. This used to drain into Neacoxie creek, which itself would drain into the Necanicum river, much closer to the south than the Columbia in the north. However, erosion, being what it is, was filling in that vital connection with sediments. Local lands were being flooded, farms destroyed. To alleviate everyone's misery, a series of ditches were dug to connect the various small lakes and swamps with the Skipanon river. Efforts on the Carnahan ditch were poorly thought out and executed. Unforeseen consequences followed.
Later, a more thorough attempt was made to control water levels. The Clatsop canal was properly built and was even multipurpose. Instead of just draining the flooding lake, it could direct water for irrigation and support transportation. All would not be happy yet. You can't simply connect a lake to a river that then connects to the ocean without some side effects. Being that the mouth of the Columbia is a large estuary, it is subject to the ocean tides. Ergo, the river will fill with ocean water, enough to send salt water in to the river's fresh water system.
A couple dams were built, one near the mouth of the Skipanon, and the other near Cullaby lake. Initially these proved disastrous for the ecology of the area. Salmon couldn't make it up river, water quality decreased with a lack of proper drainage and a growing population. Luckily, solutions were found, and today the dams still exist while bringing benefits to the land, the people, and the wildlife.
Despite these changes to the basin, most of the Clatsop plain still drains into the ocean through the Necanicum and Seaside estuary.
Next tine, I'll get back on topic and talk about the basin that took a bite out of the Columbia. It may be the first, but it won't be the last.
Happy hunting,
Brett
Wednesday, December 8, 2010
Ah, Astoria
The first time I visited Astoria, it was because of The Goonies 25th Anniversary. I grew up watching that movie and loving it. What can I say, I have a thing for maps and adventures. The city is little more than an hours drive away from Portland, and there's bound to be other interesting things in the area, right? The city doesn't disappoint.
Situated on a steep-hilled peninsula, the city is home to such beautiful views that it has been the setting of a dozen or so films, many a fond memory from my childhood. This small beacon of civilization amid the scenic wilderness is surrounded by water. The Columbia travels it's last couple miles to the Pacific on the north. On the west side is Youngs Bay. This estuary is the confluence of two of the first (or last depending on the direction one is traveling. WE are headed UP stream) of the Columbia's tributaries: the Lewis and Clark and the Youngs rivers. The latter of these forming the southern boundary of Astoria. As an aside, the first true tributary of the Columbia is the Skipanon river, which drains a bit of the Clatsop Spit through Warrenton.
These two rivers represent our first chunk of the Columbia river basin. While they drain about two-fifths of Clatsop County and have a combined length of 40 miles (the Youngs has two tributaries of it's own with a combined length of 41 miles), it represents little more than one-tenth of one percent of the whole.
What we have here, though, is a bit like a baseball glove. Acting like webbed-fingers, this glove is a ring of mountains: Davis Point, Humbug, Saddleback, Elk, and Wickiup. They catch all the rainfall and funnel it out to the Columbia, the rivers like well-worn flex wrinkles on a palm. The bowl is bisected by the 202 Hwy and few other roads. Other peaks, like the sibling Green mountains, dot the interior of this pocket, causing the rivers to dance around their mighty feet. This land was formed via the always lovely forces of plate tectonics. Massive lava flows poured down the Columbia valley into the inland Astoria Sea, cooling so quickly they exploded, and became equally massive piles of rock.
A line of hills separates the basin from the Clatsop Spit and cities like Seaside and Gearheart (a steam-punk name if I ever heard one). The US Highway 101 travels up the Spit, and when the hills give way, it crosses first Youngs Bay, and then makes the dramatic leap over the Columbia itself. This bridge, the Astoria-Megler, is the longest continuous truss bridge in North America. Taking the bridge from from the Oregon side is a bit like riding a roller coaster. Over a very short span you climb to the bridge's impressively highest point, then take a 4 mile descent to the opposite shore. The trip home is fun too, with a slow climb to the top and a sudden drop through a 360 degree corkscrew.
Astoria serves well as the guardian of the Columbia's first basin. Atop it's highest hill stands the Astoria Column, which provides a stunning view of these many waters coming together. The city has stood sentinel for a very long time, boasting of it's two centuries of history, the oldest city this side of the continental divide. It was settled less than a decade after Lewis and Clark left Fort Clatsop (just on the other side of Youngs Bay).
Next, I'll play a little game of subtraction and talk about the first basin that is NOT part of the Columbia river.
Happy hunting,
Brett
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
Travelers to the Spit
One does not create a basin larger than the fifteen smallest US states combine over night. While dinosaurs roamed, the Pacific Northwest was just being born. Millions of years later, while the dinosaurs where dying off, most of the area we are familiar with now was still in it's infancy and under an inland sea. Further millions of years of volcanic activity routinely modified the fledgling river's course. After the ice ages, things began to settle, and the Columbia lay down some roots.
It is believed that shortly before this time (geologically speaking) the first humans began traveling into this area of the world. The ice age, with it's ice caps and glaciers, had locked up much of the Earth's water supply and lowered the oceans enough to allow the Bering Strait to become a land bridge from Asia. So the first humans to visit the Pacific Northwest may have been witness to the Columbia emptying directly into the Astoria Canyon.
Once the the ice ages came to an end, bringing a stop to catastrophic floods (the subject of a future post) and a rising in sea levels, the Columbia began depositing more of it's sediments at the modern mouth of the river. This resulted in the sandy beaches we are familiar with today, including the Clatsop Spit. In this area, the Chinook and Tillamook nations had settled, descendants of those migrants from another continent. On the other side of the world, the cities of Western Civilization grew and flourished. But the natives of the Columbia and the population of Western society were completely unaware of each other.
What comes next, we citizens of the United States know the stories. So, here is an ultra fast refresher course. Peoples fleeing oppressive homelands, looking for a chance at freedom, or profit, settled the eastern lands of North America. They break their ties with the old world and create a new nation. The old world, once more in a fit of war, needs money. These new United States are looking for room to grow. The old and new worlds make a trade and thus the Louisiana Territory was purchased by President Thomas Jefferson. While the eastern parts of this territory are relatively well know, the west is largely a mystery. Those involved in the trade didn't even know what they were gaining/loosing. Jefferson then commissioned the Corps of Discovery, to explore the western reaches of the Louisiana Purchase, and from there find a way to the Pacific.
The Louisiana Territory was, for the most part, the basin of the Mississippi river. By defining it thus, the Purchase abutted the eastern border of the Columbia basin. Once Lewis and Clark had accomplished the first phase of their mission by reaching the head waters of the Missouri , the second phase was about exploring my area of interest.
After traveling down the Snake and then the Columbia, the travelers reached the mouth of the river, and thus the end of their expedition at the Pacific. Here, on the Clatsop Spit, they established Fort Clatsop to weather the winter storms before returning home.
A couple hundred years latter, the US army would build fortifications to guard the mouth of the river. One of these was Fort Stevens. Now declared surplus, it is a National Park to occasionally holds World War II recreations.
At various times, we will return to the subject of Lewis and Clark. For now, I present some of my own photographs of this region of the Columbia river: Clatsop Spit. Next, we will start moving up river to the first major city, Astoria.
Happy hunting,
Brett
It is believed that shortly before this time (geologically speaking) the first humans began traveling into this area of the world. The ice age, with it's ice caps and glaciers, had locked up much of the Earth's water supply and lowered the oceans enough to allow the Bering Strait to become a land bridge from Asia. So the first humans to visit the Pacific Northwest may have been witness to the Columbia emptying directly into the Astoria Canyon.
Once the the ice ages came to an end, bringing a stop to catastrophic floods (the subject of a future post) and a rising in sea levels, the Columbia began depositing more of it's sediments at the modern mouth of the river. This resulted in the sandy beaches we are familiar with today, including the Clatsop Spit. In this area, the Chinook and Tillamook nations had settled, descendants of those migrants from another continent. On the other side of the world, the cities of Western Civilization grew and flourished. But the natives of the Columbia and the population of Western society were completely unaware of each other.
What comes next, we citizens of the United States know the stories. So, here is an ultra fast refresher course. Peoples fleeing oppressive homelands, looking for a chance at freedom, or profit, settled the eastern lands of North America. They break their ties with the old world and create a new nation. The old world, once more in a fit of war, needs money. These new United States are looking for room to grow. The old and new worlds make a trade and thus the Louisiana Territory was purchased by President Thomas Jefferson. While the eastern parts of this territory are relatively well know, the west is largely a mystery. Those involved in the trade didn't even know what they were gaining/loosing. Jefferson then commissioned the Corps of Discovery, to explore the western reaches of the Louisiana Purchase, and from there find a way to the Pacific.
The Louisiana Territory was, for the most part, the basin of the Mississippi river. By defining it thus, the Purchase abutted the eastern border of the Columbia basin. Once Lewis and Clark had accomplished the first phase of their mission by reaching the head waters of the Missouri , the second phase was about exploring my area of interest.
After traveling down the Snake and then the Columbia, the travelers reached the mouth of the river, and thus the end of their expedition at the Pacific. Here, on the Clatsop Spit, they established Fort Clatsop to weather the winter storms before returning home.
A couple hundred years latter, the US army would build fortifications to guard the mouth of the river. One of these was Fort Stevens. Now declared surplus, it is a National Park to occasionally holds World War II recreations.
At various times, we will return to the subject of Lewis and Clark. For now, I present some of my own photographs of this region of the Columbia river: Clatsop Spit. Next, we will start moving up river to the first major city, Astoria.
Happy hunting,
Brett
Saturday, December 4, 2010
Open wide
So, I live in the Pacific Northwest. You know what we have a lot of? Rain. Averaging about 35 inches a year in the Portland area alone, you can buildup quite the water surplus. In fact, you could generally say we are over budget. But floods in my area are not that big of a concern. We've tempered natures fury with dams and now direct that wrath to our advantage.
Still, there is a lot of water falling from the sky. The entire basin is a little over a quarter million square miles. That's somewhere between the size of Texas and France. More than twice as big as New Mexico or Poland. That is an awfully big net to catch all of that precipitation. Or, a better way of describing it would be to say a funnel. And boy does it pour out. For each square mile that makes up this basin, more than a cubic foot of water enters the ocean per second. The water comes pounding out of the river with such velocity that the mouth is not really the end of its power.
The mouth of the Columbia has been compared to a high pressure spout, literally pummeling the ocean with its waters because it lacks a delta, like the Mississippi or the Nile. Well, the Columbia does have a delta where it slows and deposits all the sediments its tributaries have eroded out of the hills. The problem is that it starts ten miles off shore and more than two hundred feet below water. The Astoria Canyon, a submarine fissure that has been, and continues to be, carved by the mighty river's current, is that mechanism. During the ice age, when the ocean levels are much lower, frozen in the polar caps, the Columbia poured directly into the canyon, but as the Earth warms, and seas rise, the river is separated further from its true end. The canyon itself is over seventy miles long and about one and a third miles deep. Although its true grandeur is hidden by ocean waves, the Astoria Canyon is much deeper than the Grand Canyon. As the Columbia's waters peter out, the sediments settle upon the Astoria Fan, the river's proper delta.
Back at the mouth, it is not all sunshine and lollipops. As I said, the current generated by the river is incredibly strong. Ships attempting to navigate this area are taking their lives into their hands. While a lot of the Pacific Northwest coast line has earned the nickname "Graveyard of the Pacific", no other location has garnered more laurels. Not only do you have to consider the river's current and the notoriously stormy seas, but ships captains also have to contend with the Columbia Bar. Renown as some of the roughest seas in the world, those that earn their stripes for the Coast Guard here are certified for rescue anywhere. More than two thousand ships have fallen victim to this area, in a time period of two hundred and twenty years. That's averaging about one ship wreck every 40 days. Noah could relate.
We're not quite done talking about the mouth of the Columbia just yet. Next time, I'll discuss famous and not so famous travels in the region.
Happy hunting,
Brett
PS. I'd like to thank the NOAA and their 2001 Lewis and Clark Legacy expedition for providing a wealth of knowledge on the Astoria Canyon.
How to use the Earth
 |
| Flights to Hawaii, Japan, Amsterdam, and more. |
With Google Earth, you can drop pins to mark places of interest. I've dropped more that a fair number of placemarkers on my Earth (biodegradable and fully recyclable). If the zero dimension marker isn't your style, you can try your hand with a one dimensional path. With these I've traced the flight paths of my recent world travels. But what makes my project possible are the 2 dimensional polygons. The first thing I ever made was it was the Bermuda Triangle. Three points over a large area, simple and sweet, it showed me exactly where the aliens are hiding.
 |
| The Bermuda Triangle |
But the Columbia River basin is a polygon of a unknown number of individual points connected together. And I don't think I shall start counting now, because I'm probably in the thousands. And I'm no where near complete. These polygons have a couple options that are further required to make this project possible. But let me tell you one of the more amazing abilities of Google Earth. It's fully 3D.
You can cruise on into a city and there find the individual buildings rendered as models. Never been to New York? Curious about what the city skyline looks like from Queens? Use Google Earth to find out! But not only that, the land itself is fully rendered. Mount Everest pokes up toward the sky. The Grand Canyon is beautifully intricate.
In your options you can also exaggerate the 3D depth to make the elevation changes extremely dramatic. This is a must for my work. I look at mountains and valleys to determine if a raindrop fell here, would it rejoin the ocean because of the Columbia?
 |
| Left: Normal Elevations. Right: Exaggerated and intense. |
So what else does the polygon do that make this project a reality? You can set what altitude they float at! Well, how does that help? you might ask.What this allows me to do is "flood" valleys on the map to see where the mountains will divide a rain cloud.
 |
| Left: The normal world. Right: Noah's world. |
Happy hunting,
Brett
Thursday, December 2, 2010
Earth, by Google
Did you ever go treasure hunting as a kid? As an adult? Did you have the whole adventure? Finding that ancient map that gives directions in paces and landmarks? A great big X to tell you where to start digging?
I love finding things. I pick up every coin I see on the street. I work puzzles until the solution is discovered. I like to go on adventures where I try to get as lost as possible and finding my way home again, by paths never traveled. Eating at restaurants I've never heard of, playing in parks I come across, leaving my plans to chance.
I love looking at a map and finding where I am, where I'm going, and where I've been. I also look for where I'd like to go, planning imaginary vacations and the travels that would accompany them. I look for places of legend and history.
Google Earth is the ultimate atlas. You can spin it from far away, or you can look at it in extreme detail. From the macrocosm of continents and oceans to the microcosms of neighborhoods. Those old desktop globes often had too much information jammed on not enough space. Country names would obscure borders, rivers, and mountains. In an atlas you could switch from a map of a large area to a zoomed in version some pages on. They are like a choose your own adventure book. But in an age when video games are steadily replacing such adventure books, it only makes sense that a computer program would replace a reference book.
I could go on about how much I love just wandering around in Google Earth. How I pin places I've been or heard about. After pinning a series of things I can take a longer view, see how they are placed in relation to each other. What it will take to get from one to another. Projects I've worked on in the past include marking the seven ancient wonders of the world, Hannibal's greatest battles, and tracing the Great Wall of China. But, by far, mapping the Columbia River Basin is my most ambitious work to date. Once I am done with the project, I plan on exporting out a copy to post as the cherry on top, to finish this blog.
If you don't yet have Google Earth, you should get it. It's fun, fascinating, educational for kids (or adults), and free. If you've used Google Maps, you have used a toned down version of Google Earth. You can do the same tricks as in Google Maps, but far more as well. I use Google Earth to get directions to where I want to go, but also to find out the distances between things (as the crow flies). You can pick it up here:
Oh My God! Google Earth 6 is now available! GET IT!
Next time I will talk about tools and techniques in Google Earth for mapping. I'll include pictures (!) and downloads (!).
Happy hunting,
Brett
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
The Columbia
I live in Beaverton, Oregon. Not far from my home is a stream (I have another project involving this stream, but more on that later). This stream raises during the winter, lowers during the summer and flows in a roughly north eastern direction. What I know now is that this same stream water will eventually join the Pacific Ocean, in that same direction, about 75 miles away. From this valley, this water will descend little more than a hundred feet in getting there.
But it takes a detour, because between this stream and the ocean is the Northern Oregon Coast Range. It's thirty-five miles by one hundred, and climbs more than three thousand feet into the air. This little stream will have to find a way around.. To the north and east lie the Tualatin Mountains. So the only escape is to the south. There the stream will join with many others as they drain this once swampy area into the Tualatin River.
This river heads west under the tip of the mountains and joins the Willamette just before it gets to Portland. A major arm of the Columbia, the Willamette travels north to join the largest river in the Pacific Northwest.
Already the water from my stream has traveled in four directions, an outward spiral that will take it to the sea. Just north of Portland the Willamette joins the Columbia at the border with Washington state. These waters continue to divide the two states both east and west, forming most of the edge between the two.
Because my stream traveled in a circle, it is not a part of my work. It does not touch the border that I am marking out. But thinking about what my stream does got me wondering about other neighborhoods and the fates of their waters. So I chose the Columbia as the river basin I wanted to map, to create a family tree for my little stream. I wanted to trace all of the connections, all of the waters that this stream will join and will join it.
And what an impressive basin it is. It's drains an area roughly equal to France. It takes waters from about half of Oregon, three-quarters of Washington. Small bits of Nevada, Utah, Wyoming, and Montana. Almost the entirety of Idaho. And a healthy chunk of two Canadian Provinces: Alberta and British Columbia. It's largest tributary, the Snake, reaches out fingers toward the Great Salt Lake and Yellowstone National Park. It is by these waters that Lewis and Clark finally completed their journey to the Pacific.It's dams produce more electricity than any other river in North America. There is much that has happened in and around this basin, oth historically and geologically.
Before we get started with this tour though, I wanted to use one more blog to talk about my canvas, Google Earth, and the tools and techniques I use to create this map.
Happy hunting,
Brett
But it takes a detour, because between this stream and the ocean is the Northern Oregon Coast Range. It's thirty-five miles by one hundred, and climbs more than three thousand feet into the air. This little stream will have to find a way around.. To the north and east lie the Tualatin Mountains. So the only escape is to the south. There the stream will join with many others as they drain this once swampy area into the Tualatin River.
This river heads west under the tip of the mountains and joins the Willamette just before it gets to Portland. A major arm of the Columbia, the Willamette travels north to join the largest river in the Pacific Northwest.
Already the water from my stream has traveled in four directions, an outward spiral that will take it to the sea. Just north of Portland the Willamette joins the Columbia at the border with Washington state. These waters continue to divide the two states both east and west, forming most of the edge between the two.
Because my stream traveled in a circle, it is not a part of my work. It does not touch the border that I am marking out. But thinking about what my stream does got me wondering about other neighborhoods and the fates of their waters. So I chose the Columbia as the river basin I wanted to map, to create a family tree for my little stream. I wanted to trace all of the connections, all of the waters that this stream will join and will join it.
And what an impressive basin it is. It's drains an area roughly equal to France. It takes waters from about half of Oregon, three-quarters of Washington. Small bits of Nevada, Utah, Wyoming, and Montana. Almost the entirety of Idaho. And a healthy chunk of two Canadian Provinces: Alberta and British Columbia. It's largest tributary, the Snake, reaches out fingers toward the Great Salt Lake and Yellowstone National Park. It is by these waters that Lewis and Clark finally completed their journey to the Pacific.It's dams produce more electricity than any other river in North America. There is much that has happened in and around this basin, oth historically and geologically.
Before we get started with this tour though, I wanted to use one more blog to talk about my canvas, Google Earth, and the tools and techniques I use to create this map.
Happy hunting,
Brett
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
What is a River? A Basin?
There is something intriguing about rivers. These ribbons of water that snake through mountains and plains, tumbling headlong into the sea. If they have a purpose, it is only to act as a drain.Yet they do so much along the way. Given time they carve canyons. Too much rain in the highlands and the river swells and floods the lowlands. They generate enough energy to power cities. The are arteries of ecosystems. They are the heart of civilization.
Where would we be without rivers? Look at the world today. Every major city is on a river. New York? The Hudson. London? The Thames. Paris? The Seine.Cairo? The Nile. The Cradle of Civilization was the meeting place of two rivers, the Tigris and the Euphrates. Large populations rely on a river. Not only are they a source of fresh drinking water and fish for food, they are a vast transportation network. This is important for two reasons, one is trade. Using the power of the river you can easily send and receive your goods. One of the features that turned London into the powerhouse it is today is that the Thames experiences two tides a day. The waters of the sea rush inland, making it easy for ships to reach the city. Then the same waters rush back out again, carrying those same ships out for/with fresh supplies. All done quickly and efficiently, with the effect of nearly doubling trade capacity. Just as important as trade is communication. Before there was the internet, or phones, or other telecommunication systems, rivers were the communication network of choice. With rivers, rulers could more effectively command a larger area. The land and people could be brought to order. These factors together would help free people from constant farming and walking. With free time people could devote more of themselves to developing art and science.
Today, we use dams to hold back the river. This allows for even larger cities than a free flowing river. You have stored more water for drinking. You generate electricity to power it's businesses. You prevent flooding of the lowlands, thus producing more land that it is safe to build upon.
It took a long time, it seems, for cities to realize that they often poisoned their own waters. Because the river acts as a drain, people treat it as a sewer. The first toilets and sinks would drain into rivers, where the waters would take the waste away to be forgotten about. But a city can produce more waste than a river can disgorge. It's still a lesson many cities are learning today.
The river's basin is the area of land that the river acts as a drain for. Whenever there is precipitation, some of that water is absorbed by the earth into underground aquifers and some is consumed by plants and animals. The rest rolls along the surface, rain drop by rain drop collecting into larger and larger bodies. Glaciers and snow melt to swell rivers in the summer. Springs in the clefts of mountains release underground streams. These and other tributaries gather together into the river body that seeks it's path to the sea.
So, the map I am creating is one of viewing where the water goes. If a rain drop falls in such-and-such location and is not absorbed by the earth, plants, or animals. If it joins a stream that joins a river. Will that river be the Columbia or one of it's tributaries?
Next time I shall talk a little about the Columbia and the reasons I chose this river.
Happy hunting,
Brett
Where would we be without rivers? Look at the world today. Every major city is on a river. New York? The Hudson. London? The Thames. Paris? The Seine.Cairo? The Nile. The Cradle of Civilization was the meeting place of two rivers, the Tigris and the Euphrates. Large populations rely on a river. Not only are they a source of fresh drinking water and fish for food, they are a vast transportation network. This is important for two reasons, one is trade. Using the power of the river you can easily send and receive your goods. One of the features that turned London into the powerhouse it is today is that the Thames experiences two tides a day. The waters of the sea rush inland, making it easy for ships to reach the city. Then the same waters rush back out again, carrying those same ships out for/with fresh supplies. All done quickly and efficiently, with the effect of nearly doubling trade capacity. Just as important as trade is communication. Before there was the internet, or phones, or other telecommunication systems, rivers were the communication network of choice. With rivers, rulers could more effectively command a larger area. The land and people could be brought to order. These factors together would help free people from constant farming and walking. With free time people could devote more of themselves to developing art and science.
Today, we use dams to hold back the river. This allows for even larger cities than a free flowing river. You have stored more water for drinking. You generate electricity to power it's businesses. You prevent flooding of the lowlands, thus producing more land that it is safe to build upon.
It took a long time, it seems, for cities to realize that they often poisoned their own waters. Because the river acts as a drain, people treat it as a sewer. The first toilets and sinks would drain into rivers, where the waters would take the waste away to be forgotten about. But a city can produce more waste than a river can disgorge. It's still a lesson many cities are learning today.
The river's basin is the area of land that the river acts as a drain for. Whenever there is precipitation, some of that water is absorbed by the earth into underground aquifers and some is consumed by plants and animals. The rest rolls along the surface, rain drop by rain drop collecting into larger and larger bodies. Glaciers and snow melt to swell rivers in the summer. Springs in the clefts of mountains release underground streams. These and other tributaries gather together into the river body that seeks it's path to the sea.
So, the map I am creating is one of viewing where the water goes. If a rain drop falls in such-and-such location and is not absorbed by the earth, plants, or animals. If it joins a stream that joins a river. Will that river be the Columbia or one of it's tributaries?
Next time I shall talk a little about the Columbia and the reasons I chose this river.
Happy hunting,
Brett
Sunday, November 28, 2010
Intro, or I Love Geography.
So, I've long considered starting a blog. But I often find that if I have the time to make a blog I'm not doing anything worth talking about. On the other hand, participating in fun activities becomes a substitute for finding something interesting to say. However, some blogs are project based. Here is something cool, crazy, creative, etc that someone is working on and they want to share their experiences with everyone.
This blog will be of the later sort. I have a project that I have been working on for some time and only now thought I would share with everyone. I find it terribly interesting, but for some (most?) it will seem terribly boring. Tedious even. Utterly without reward. Perhaps I am starting this blog to find that special niche audience that may find interest in my little project.
Speaking of which, what is this project I am working on? Well, I'm glad you asked. I'm mapping the entire Columbia River basin. Huh? Still have questions? Well, let me elucidate. The story begins in my freshman year at college. Actually, I could say it goes even further back to middle school. So let's take a quick detour. This will explain a little about me, why I've taken on this project, and what else makes me a Geek.
I first became introduced to the epic fantasy genre of books the same way most of us are, through J.R.R. Tolkien's The Lord of the Rings. While I, too, love much of the book because of it's character's, plots, dilemmas, and so forth, I also loved the world itself. With its mountains, rivers, villages, kingdoms all clearly named and labeled on a friendly map. I'm not sure if my love sprung from this, but I definitely recognized it here. But it wasn't just Middle Earth that had maps that fascinated me. Our home copy of the Encyclopedia Britannica had plenty of maps of the US, Germany, China, Somalia, et al. I love looking through Atlases and spinning a globe. And it's physical maps that I love specifically. Political maps, with their solid colors just defining these arbitrary lines we call borders doesn't thrill me at all. It's seeing all those mountains with their passes. Rivers that begin in glaciers and find their way to the sea. It's seeing how a large city is situated among the features of the landscape. How human civilization has been shaped by the land and how the land has been shaped by civilization.
Now, back to college. That is where I was introduced to Keyhole. For those of you unfamiliar with this program, it stitched together satellite images of the world. You could punch in some latitude and longitude and instantly see what it looked like from space. Great for looking at the roof of your house (is that Frisbee really still up there?) or seeing how things have changed in your old neighborhood.
Not to get into a history lesson, but Keyhole was later bought by Google and turned into Google Earth. My.favorite.program.ever. Now I can fully explore any place on Earth. And with the advancements that have been made to Google Earth over the past decade or so, I find it still more fascinating and more difficult to turn off.
I don't remember the precise catalyst, but I conceived the notion of mapping the entire basin of the Columbia River in Google Earth. I started the project some time ago, so this blog will be a mix of what I find of interest as I progress through the wild country of the Pacific Northwest. But I will also delve back into territory I have already covered to get you up to speed. At this point I have finished the entire state of Oregon, but that is still a fraction of the entire work.
Next time, I will explain less about me and more about geography and the Columbia River Basin itself.
Happy hunting,
Brett
This blog will be of the later sort. I have a project that I have been working on for some time and only now thought I would share with everyone. I find it terribly interesting, but for some (most?) it will seem terribly boring. Tedious even. Utterly without reward. Perhaps I am starting this blog to find that special niche audience that may find interest in my little project.
Speaking of which, what is this project I am working on? Well, I'm glad you asked. I'm mapping the entire Columbia River basin. Huh? Still have questions? Well, let me elucidate. The story begins in my freshman year at college. Actually, I could say it goes even further back to middle school. So let's take a quick detour. This will explain a little about me, why I've taken on this project, and what else makes me a Geek.
I first became introduced to the epic fantasy genre of books the same way most of us are, through J.R.R. Tolkien's The Lord of the Rings. While I, too, love much of the book because of it's character's, plots, dilemmas, and so forth, I also loved the world itself. With its mountains, rivers, villages, kingdoms all clearly named and labeled on a friendly map. I'm not sure if my love sprung from this, but I definitely recognized it here. But it wasn't just Middle Earth that had maps that fascinated me. Our home copy of the Encyclopedia Britannica had plenty of maps of the US, Germany, China, Somalia, et al. I love looking through Atlases and spinning a globe. And it's physical maps that I love specifically. Political maps, with their solid colors just defining these arbitrary lines we call borders doesn't thrill me at all. It's seeing all those mountains with their passes. Rivers that begin in glaciers and find their way to the sea. It's seeing how a large city is situated among the features of the landscape. How human civilization has been shaped by the land and how the land has been shaped by civilization.
Now, back to college. That is where I was introduced to Keyhole. For those of you unfamiliar with this program, it stitched together satellite images of the world. You could punch in some latitude and longitude and instantly see what it looked like from space. Great for looking at the roof of your house (is that Frisbee really still up there?) or seeing how things have changed in your old neighborhood.
Not to get into a history lesson, but Keyhole was later bought by Google and turned into Google Earth. My.favorite.program.ever. Now I can fully explore any place on Earth. And with the advancements that have been made to Google Earth over the past decade or so, I find it still more fascinating and more difficult to turn off.
I don't remember the precise catalyst, but I conceived the notion of mapping the entire basin of the Columbia River in Google Earth. I started the project some time ago, so this blog will be a mix of what I find of interest as I progress through the wild country of the Pacific Northwest. But I will also delve back into territory I have already covered to get you up to speed. At this point I have finished the entire state of Oregon, but that is still a fraction of the entire work.
Next time, I will explain less about me and more about geography and the Columbia River Basin itself.
Happy hunting,
Brett
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)