Geography of the James (Earth Lodge)

This week, unfortunately did not go as planned. Due to an injury, I was not able to go kayaking with my fellow Earth Lodgers but the second part of our walk around campus did give me some things to think about.

The walk ended near the edge of campus where a golf course and the creek are separated by a small path. Professor Lookingbill explained that in order to keep the course green and pristine, large amounts of fertilizers were used on the grass which eventually made their way into the creek. The task now, he explained, was to find a way to perhaps diminish the amount of those chemicals reaching the water by using the path to absorb them before the could cause any harm.

The end of our walk made me think about our closeness to nature. First of all, I had never seen that creek before, and secondly, I had no idea there was a path there. If I had stopped only for a second to really look at what was around me, I would have seen and understood just how important my proximity to this nature really is. We tend to think of nature as some sort of separate entity that we have to go really far out of our way to experience or appreciate. People flock to national parks and the Grand Canyon, which is by no means a bad thing, but the reality is that the same nature is in your backyard waiting to be looked at and appreciated in the same way. Why then, if they are the same, do we choose those huge swathes of land with geysers and forests to protect and revere over the little creek? No one ever goes and paints the little creek and not once have I seen it on a post card. It is unassuming, and because of this, it is easy to take advantage of. I’m sure the golf course would approach the creek very differently if it was the border to a national park. If we are to truly commit ourselves to protecting the watershed (or water), it can’t just be to the big, majestic areas. Plans such as the one for the absorbent pathway need to be looked into more seriously because the little creek flowing through our school is only the beginning. Something like that could be implemented for much larger areas with far greater amounts of people, which would help stop the effects of even more runoff. Both places, regardless of size, are equally important because they are all connected. The trees here in Richmond can’t look too different from the ones out in Wyoming. All you have to do is go and look.

I originally became interested in Earth Lodge because of my love of the outdoors, but just a few classes in, I am already realizing that Earth Lodge is about so much more than that.  I’ll be the first to admit, I was a bit skeptical at first about taking a walk around the upper end of Westhampton Lake.  I have walked around the lake countless times and driven over the spot where Little Westham Creek flows under the road and into the lake too many times to count, and I was certain that there was nothing else I could possibly see on our little escapade.  My skepticism combined with the dreary, wet weather last Wednesday made me anything but excited to venture out of the cool sanctity of Atlantic House and into the hot and muggy world at 9:30 in the morning.

The first surprise that peaked my interest, however, was the fact that we would be joined by the introduction to GIS class on our hike; the same class that we will be working closely with towards the end of the semester on our final projects.  I was not expecting to be joined by the other class, but it was nice to see some familiar faces (other than Earth Lodgers) in the crowd.  Additionally, I was caught off guard by their surprising amount of knowledge on tops that we had just been discussing in our own class.  The slight competitive bone in me never makes me a fan of being shown up, but it was interesting to hear from other students and another professor who are just as interested in geography and its larger-scale implications as my fellow Earth Lodgers and I are.

Just being outside and walking around the lake, talking about he fact that the University of Richmond campus only constitutes about 15% of the Little Westham Creek Watershed, I could not help but feel small.  This is a feeling that I am often struck by when venturing into territories I’ve yet to explore, but it typically happens when traversing through places much larger.  It’s a completely normal way to feel when in big cities and huge national and state parks, but it is always both a bit unsettling and bewildering to feel so small and unaware in a place you call home, as all students at the university do for a good portion of every year.   The lake is something we as students, without a doubt, take for granted.  We don’t stop to talk or think about Little Westham Creek and Westhampton Lake and all of their complexities, from their properties as part of both the Westham Creek and James River watersheds to their issues with pollution to the myriad of diverse organisms ranging from sponges to snapping turtles that live in this environment.  Standing in this environment, bringing these issues to the forefront of conversation, not only made me feel small myself, but made me feel like a part of something much greater.  I may be only one tiny player in a long line of well established, varying ecosystems and their inhabitants in this world, but there is so much to learn and so much that we as humans can do to help protect our environment and keep the Earth thriving.

The concept of connectivity is one that has been stressed already this semester, and it was brought to my attention a lot through this tour of the lake and Little Westham Creek.  We are all connected, whether we choose to acknowledge it or not, to each other, to our actions, to our mistakes, and to the Earth and our environments at large.  It is up to us to study these connections.  We must connect with other people (just as we will be connecting with the GIS students) to improve ourselves and our ways of living in order to keep this planet that we take for granted healthy and able to sustain life.   We must connect, just as the trickle, by comparison to the James River, of Little Westham Creek connects into that river and joins into its raging and powerful force.  We must be this force in the future, and it starts here.  It starts in a small environment, and it takes realizing that it’s not so small after all; we are the small dependent creatures.  And we must do our best to preserve what we have been given to use.  After all, the Earth will endure, as it has for billions of years, but if cannot make the connections, it is we who will persish…..

Who would have thought, all of this from a simple walk around the lake…..

Each time I walk by the Westhampton Lake on my way to class or dinner, I am always amazed to see the natural beauty that resides on our campus. Humans have always had a connection with nature. Recently, I have noticed more and more people having close to no link to the natural world around them. I believe that technology has pulled us further from the world that is currently around us and that most people have lost their sense of direction and place. Many people that attend U of R walk around this lake every day and have no connection to it what so ever. Several of your friends have commented about how dirty the lake is and it often makes me wonder if they have ever taken an environmental science class or a geography class ever in their life. My guess would be no, because if they had they would realize that the poor water quality can be directly linked to everyday actions of humans around the lake.

      During class on Wednesday, we walked around the lake and talked about the different inputs into the lake. Many people do not know that there are two inputs into the Westhampton Lake. Another unknown for people is that a lot of the water that comes into the lake is from run off from impervious surfaces. This means the humans are directly changing the health of the water before it runs off the land.  The take away message from observing the lake would be that every little action affects something bigger. In the case of the Westhampton Lake, if we clean up water here it will run into the James River. This cleaner input into the James will eventually help the overall health of the Chesapeake Bay. The same could be said if we pollute our small lake, not only will it be dirty on our campus, but we will be doing no favors for the Chesapeake Bay. This is why the University of Richmond is taking huge steps to improve the water quality of our lake.  These changes will impact the water quality further down the line.

Rain fell as I started walking down to the Westhampton Lake. Down, it is the only way to get to the lake. Not only for me but also for all the water in the Westhampton Lake watershed.

I asked myself the question, “At what point does the water become the Lake?”

Our class on Wednesday consisted of a calm stroll from Atlantic House to the Westhampton Lake. Rain fell quietly above me and as it soaked into my cotton shirt, its journey in the watershed ended. The rain that falls from the same cloud that hits the Westhampton Lake or any of the surrounding area becomes part of the lake. Rain slithers through drain pipes, winds through asphalt and concrete, and slides slowly off various trees and flora in efforts to reach the lake. Rain transforms its existence into something new and different, escaping the lonely existence as a single rain drop and becoming part of the murky concoction of minerals and wildlife that defines the lake.

The lake appears peaceful, isolated, and independent but the detachment is an illusion. Watersheds are a hierarchy, large watersheds are made up of smaller watersheds, for example, the Westhampton Lake Watershed is within the Little Westham Creek Watershed which is within the James River Watershed. Thousands of streams converge into rivers, rivers feed into the bay, and the bay feeds into the ocean. The University of Richmond campus makes up about 15% of the Little Westham Creek Watershed which makes the Westhampton Lake a short pit stop on a long downhill journey to the ocean.

Water reinvents itself with new names and forms by relocating seamlessly into new locations, while at the same time, creating new definitions for itself. Taking a class tour around the perimeter of the Westhampton Lake, it was clear to see the boundaries of the University campus drawn by roads and fences. The difference between being “on campus” and being “off campus” is immediately clear to me. I had trouble identifying the boundaries of water, the division markers are transparent and loosely defined. All the water from surrounding areas immigrate to the lake to become a single unified entity, defined by its residence in the Westhampton Lake. The moment the water from urban runoff or the Little Westham Creek transforms into Westhampton Lake water is still a mystery to me, especially since water flowing downhill is always in motion.

During our tour, our Professor discussed the complex relationship our peaceful lake has with the surrounding area. In particular, the types of runoff that pollute the local waterways. As he discussed the effects of urban runoff, I imagined the journey of the rain flowing off the roof of Atlantic House. After the rain fell down the rain gutter it passed through the ivy in front of my window, across our lawn, through a large parking lot, across the street and finally reaching the water. Along its journey, it runs into little resistance from plants or soil which means all the pollutants resting in the parking lot asphalt are carried straight to the Westhampton Lake. This is only one example of how pollutants are transported into the lake. Imagining the runoff from the construction around campus and the residential areas surrounding the University creates a fearful image of the lake in my mind, further discouraging me from taking a dip in the murky waters.

The Westhampton Lake has a complex existence that plays a vital role in the watershed but most importantly it plays a role as “the unending witness of past and future generation[s]” and is forever connected to the University of Richmond experience (In River Time).

Ever since I attended my elder sister’s orientation at the University of Richmond, one fact about the lake has stuck in my mind. Not the Gazebo Kiss Myth, or where exactly Little Westham Creek flows into the lake. No, what I will never forget from that long week spent in lecture halls with my parents is a very special quote. A long time ago, some important dignitary or other visited the university and was shown around the lake, the jewel of the campus. He pronounced it “a malarial duck-pond”. At the time, I chuckled at how true it seemed, but when I myself began attending Richmond, I found myself a little offended that someone could say such a thing about our beloved, if murky, lake.

However, on our class’s walk around the lake, that quote seemed to ring truer than ever. As a result of the summer drainage, as well as recent rain, the lake was covered in a mulch-filled scum, accented by small logs bobbing on the surface. Humidity pressed down on us, bringing to mind the large mosquito population such a body of water would produce. In short, I was shocked. My experience with water has been mainly limited to rivers, which swiftly sweep away imperfections, and cow ponds, where livestock laze, chew cud, and pollute their surroundings. The lake looked much like the latter.

Much of the lake’s current condition can be attributed to the vast numbers of impervious surfaces in its watershed. From suburban streets to the vast wasteland of X-Lot, rainwater has very little chance to sink into the earth before flowing into the lake, carrying with it anything and everything in its path. Much of the scum was likely made up of mulch from the preparatory gardening done before the influx of students, leading me to wonder if perhaps less mulch would have been wise. My father, a landscape architect and an avid gardener, has often informed me that the mountains of mulch and fertilizer seen on many a manicured garden patch are unnecessary and will run-off quickly come rain. Better management of the gardening practices on campus, as well as a general awareness of where our waste goes could go a long way towards disproving the anonymous visitor who made such an impact on how I view the lake.

I can’t remember most of my first visit to the University of Richmond. But I do remember the gaping soggy hole that was the Westhampton lake in the summer of 2011. I knew it was a lake, but there’s just something about seeing that crater that kept me from really intellectualizing the whole body-of-water on campus thing.

I didn’t come back to the University again until revisit day in April of 2012, and then I got the full effect a lake on campus gives a doe-eyed and slightly overwhelmed high school senior trying to decide where to spend the next four years of her life. You see, I like scenery. The aesthetics of a school were an important factor to me. And that mirror of water reflecting a blue sky and the brick architecture of the Tyler Haynes commons left quite an impression. While obviously not the only reason I came, it definitely played a part.

I spent many of my first nights here sitting on the banks of that lake, listening to the ducks and hoping to find friends and a community I could call home. It’s only now that I realize the significance of those thoughts. I wasn’t yet aware that I was already a part of a community. Even a small college feels rather anonymous if you went to a high school with less than one hundred people in each class. So, as I sat on the benches by the lake, I felt the weight of anonymity with a fair amount of anxiety. Little did I know I was sitting by the very thing that connect us all.

The most significant thing I took from the last three Earth Lodge classes for me was the quote by geographer John Wesley Powell, that a watershed is “”that area of land, a bounded hydrologic system, within which all living things are inextricably linked by their common water course and where, as humans settled, simple logic demanded that they become part of a community.” As a strong believer in the supremacy of logic, this narrates perfectly the comfort that the lake gave me, even in my ignorance to it’s true significance.
Sitting outside and listening to nature made me feel the comfort of being part of something, even if I couldn’t put a name to it yet. I grew into the community without realizing what it really meant and how it existed. I made friends and no longer needed the comfort of a quiet meditation by the lake. But I still go from time to time.

In the past year, I would wonder in passing where all the spilled alcohol, abandoned solo cups and discarded cigarettes end up, thinking idly that it must be the lake, but that thought has never truly taken root. Until recently. Suddenly I find myself looking in horror into the murky depths of the lake as I spy yellow bikes and trash. It’s suddenly like perhaps the very thing most collegians here take for granted is the thing they should most want to preserve. The Westhampton lake links the campus together, literally the center of our University of Richmond community. A community is a terrible thing to waste.

The most important thing I have learned from the first week of this class is that there’s always something new to learn about a something you thought you knew. Throughout high school, my sciences classes (all 8 of them) included a field component, usually meaning we spent the entire class period once a week at a field location nearby. When Professor Lookingbill said we would be going on a walking tour of Westhampton Lake, I was excited to relive those field days but also expecting to hear much of the same ideas as I did at other field sites.

I was pleasantly surprised to find out how similar yet also different the Westhampton Lake watershed is from some of the rivers and marshes of southern New Jersey. The lake, like many others, includes a riparian buffer along one edge near a main road. The species in this habitat are different from other habitats I’ve visited, yet serve the same purpose: to filter runoff and pollutants from nearby residential and commercial areas. Completely different species serving the same purpose: nature’s way of customizing each ecosystem to its specific needs, further proving the amazing intricacies of nature and ecology.

Last summer, I conducted research in a Biology lab on freshwater sponges in the Greater Richmond Area. A few of our expeditions led us to explore the outflow of Westhampton Lake (which I now correctly call Little Westham Creek). Of course I knew there was an inflow to the lake, but I never explored the lake to find it. On our walk, we learned that there were not one, but 2 main tributaries to Westhampton Lake, one on each side. (Of course my next thoughts were whether there are freshwater sponges living in these streams, but no luck yet on that front.)

Little Westham Creek begins in a residential area a few miles upstream of Westhampton Lake where its waters pause before making their way south to the James River. Along the way, the creek collects many pollutants and much waste from the runoff of homes, roads, the University of Richmond campus, and a golf course. A lack of riparian buffer along parts of the creek and direct dumping of storm drain water in addition to the natural nutrient load of the creek’s watershed allows for much sediment and pollutants to make their way into the James River.

Many species of plants do however grow near and around the creek and lake on campus. River birch and Baldcypress act as riparian buffers on the edges of the water while Sweetgum, Yellow Poplar, and Sassafras are abundant in forests nearby. Snapping turtles and geese can be seen in and around the lake almost all year long. Residents in nearby neighborhoods frequent the lake to try their hand at catching some of the fish in the lake. I was lucky to see a young boy catch a small bass recently.

The weekend after our stream walk, I made a point to walk along the wooded side of the lake whenever I was going to our dining hall. And each time I saw something new. I saw the water level was lower than I remembered last year. I saw erosion along some parts of the lake’s banks. I discovered walking paths I hadn’t paid attention to before. I even spotted a few new trees species I’m eager to learn the names of. I learned that no matter how many times you look at something, you can always learn something new, and that each and every watershed on Earth is unique and beautiful in its own way.