Geography of the James (Earth Lodge)

Walking alongside Westhampton Lake with my fellow Earthlodgers, I contemplated the reflection of the sky and trees in the lake’s waters. The water was murky that day, and the image was blurred and fuzzy. It got me thinking about perception.

You’re likely aware of the phenomenon known as Upside-Down Lake. In case you don’t, it is when one lies down on the brick divider next on the walkway alongside the Commons with their head dangling backwards over the edge, so that they are looking at the lake upside down. It’s the most fun to do it at night, because the reflection of the stars, trees, and lights are brightest when it’s dark out. When I was walking alongside the lake with the Earthlodgers, I considered the difference between the fuzzy, blurred reflection I saw in front of me and the crystal-clear, nearly flawless reflection of the lake I saw at night. And I began to think about peoples’ perception of the lake as a whole, regardless of the time of night or day.

To most people on campus, the lake is more than a body of water. But every person’s appreciation has developed for different reasons, and on their own time. To me, the lake is a kind of therapist. I have strolled countless laps around the lake during stressful times, or when I have needed to work a few things out. Some people have a deep spiritual connection with the lake. Others have amazing memories of their years in college locked in the mud along the lake’s shores. And for some, it is simply a beautiful place to enjoy spending time with one’s family on a gorgeous Richmond day. One of my favorite things to observe in walking around the lake is children’s reaction it. Their appreciation of the lake is so pure, so innocent, that one cannot help but smile as the little ones totter by.

Everybody perceives the lake uniquely and appreciates it in their own way, just as the lake appears different in the night and day. I look forward to discovering my fellow classmates’ perceptions.

As our class began our walk outside, it was hard not to think about what this place looked like a mere 10 years ago. Going even further, my mind raced to the thought of what this campus looked 50 years ago. And there I stood, thinking I knew exactly what my campus looks like today, except I had never before wandered over to the stream near the bridge that funnels into the lake. I have been at UofR for almost three semesters and I have lived in dorms that border the lake, yet I have never seen the small waterfall the rests under the bridge near the far end of the lake. It was also extremely interesting to learn and see firsthand where the water that flows into the lake comes from, as the majority of the water comes from the runoff from neighborhoods upstream on the hills above the lake. I watched as the water raced under the bridge and down the concrete waterfall, and continued to walk along the bank of the stream, where I noticed the pace of the water was slowing down tremendously. The water that ran under the bridge looked to be fairly clear, and was for the most part a result of all the rain that we have been getting over the past week. But as I moved closer to the lake, the water became murkier and more sludge-like, and I could even see a few items of trash, and a small blue sand castle pale sitting in the water. Getting closer to the lake, I begin to see our friendly clans of geese and ducks floating amongst themselves in the water. This lake is a home to countless organisms, yet the majority of people see the lake as simply an attractive element and aspect of our beautiful campus. I have seen firsthand people pollute the lake, whether it be trash, or even the university’s green bikes. We take for granted the ecosystem that we have right in front of us. It pains me to know that after each year, the university drains the lake. This is essentially destroying many of the organisms that call this lake their home. It is also hard to believe the amount of garbage, green bikes, and even golf carts, that are collected from the lake after it is drained. It is hard to believe how much we pollute areas such as lakes and other watersheds, because water is such a vital part of our lives. Lakes and rivers were once where locals received a great majority of their water it order to sustain their lives, yet we mistreat and abuse our lake, forgetting about all those that call it home.

I was pleasantly surprised to find the rush of water tucked away between the baseball fields and the campus border. Before class on Wednesday I was unaware that this was one of the two streams that flow into Westhampton Lake.

My ignorance rattled me. I had been living at UR for nearly one and half years, yet I had no idea this small stream existed. Moreover, if I was not taking geography of the James, I would have most likely remained ignorant of the stream.

With the knowledge that I was at a spot on campus unbeknownst to most I took a moment to really look at my surroundings. The stream’s starting point lay across the road, out of sight. It entered the campus boundaries unceremoniously, flowing beneath a stone bridge. Water flowed at a steady pace on the left side, sliding effortlessly over the slabs of rock. Contrastingly, water pulled to the right moved at a slower pace, inching up to the drop as if to prolong the plunge, rather than take the leap. As the stream neared the right shore the trickle was reduced to a drip, and dark green moss took up residence in the resultant cool moist area. Tree roots also extended down the bank, gripping the stone slabs like gnarly fingers, as if wood and stone were locked in a deadly embrace.

It was evident that plant life had adapted to the bridge, yet I was curious to know what it had been like prior to human interference. I also questioned the effects dredging has on this ecosystem, and how it would be different if nature could run its natural course.

Dredging refers to removing sediments on the lake or river floor, and is carried out for various reasons including to keep waterways navigable, and to maintain the holding capacity of lakes. However, it can also have substantial impacts on aquatic ecosystems, such as releasing toxic chemicals from bottom sediments into the water column, and increasing water turbidity which can interfere with many marine species’ metabolisms.

This small stream along with Westhampton Lake are dredged every summer to maintain the flow of water and the lake’s carrying capacity. The control humans have over this aspect of nature is daunting. They literally have the power to mold the world to their needs with little regard to what nature has in store. Is this justifiable? Do people ever go too far? When do they try to harness power that isn’t mean to be contained?

More info about dredging along with pics are in the link below

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dredging

For some reason, I have always thought of the lake as a static fixture on our campus, and even though I have seen it trickle down the dam underneath the commons, it never really occurred to me that it must also have a source. Once we started talking about our campus’s watershed, however, it clicked in my mind that, of course, it must be fed by something. Given the relatively small size of our campus, however, and the fact that I thought I had managed to explore almost every nook and cranny, I was confused at first as to where the stream could meet up with the lake and certainly did not expect it to be anything more than a gentle trickle.

Learning about the miniature watershed of our campus and really getting the chance to firmly wrap my head around the geography of the area helped me to both appreciate the natural aspects of our campus and to see all that it has to offer. In addition, Wednesday’s lesson showed me how our campus – which often seems incredibly isolated – clearly connects to the outside world via water systems. The stillness of the lake suggests that it is fed by just a small trickle of water (if by anything at all), but the power of the water as the stream rushes under the road and onto campus is astonishing, and the speed at which it slows to almost a halt as it curves around to join the lake is equally impressive. The heavy and consistent rainfall of course helped increase the power of the stream, but even on a dry day, I am sure it would have been greater than what I expected.

All in all, the walk around the top of campus and the exploration of our school’s watershed helped show me the continuous nature of the water system, and that, while our campus may have definite boundaries, the water that runs in and throughout it certainly does not. To those students and faculty members who feel as if they know everything there is to know about our campus, and the lake in particular, I would greatly encourage them to simply take a walk along that narrow strip of land that separates the baseball field and lake form the road. Discovering a “new” part of campus is always an exciting activity and it really does not take much effort to step back and put the lake and stream into the context of our campus’s watershed. This new point of view, however, will undoubtedly alter the way you view water on campus in the future.

Unfortunately, I feel as if I could have gotten more out of Wednesday’s class if it had occurred later in the semester after we have had the opportunity to learn more about basic geographical concepts. This being said though, I was able to learn something new, and I am sure that as the semester progresses, I will be able to look back and apply what I learn to last week’s walk around campus.

After being left to explore, I couldn’t help but notice many things that characterized this “place,” Westhampton Lake.  I looked at the water itself, in the shallow portion of the stream after the waterfall near the road.  It was not terribly polluted or discolored in any way; it was the familiar color of countless other bodies of water that I had seen throughout my life.  As I walked along the stream nearing the lake, I noticed a solitary Styrofoam cup floating near the opposite bank.  Perhaps dumped by a passing car, maybe blown by the wind?  As I walked further I saw the stream feed into the lake.  This small stream became this expansive body of water.  I noticed the hue of the water from a distance, now somewhat browner, maybe a bit murkier.  Standing in the parking lot, looking through the trees I spotted a few more bits of litter in the water; they were nothing more than amorphous blobs of debris from that distance, but I noticed that they seemed to be all piled together in the center of the lake.

After scrounging the area of the lake for the little details I started to think, but not about the litter or any sense of pollution that I felt the lake was characteristic of.  Instead, I looked back, back to the beginning of my “exploration” of the lake: the concrete waterfall.  That portion of the stream was clearly built, manufactured by humans.  I thought then about the opposite side of the lake, where the dam is behind the Commons.  That was manufactured too.  After this point, I began to think of Westhampton Lake as a project, an experiment, maybe.  A project by human beings, seeing whether or not they could control such a large amount of water in a single place.  The waterfall and the dam were both means to achieve the goal of that project.  Whoever wanted to control all that water obviously succeeded in their project.  They birthed Westhampton Lake as it is today.

Does this mean that the water in the lake has any less importance or necessity to the surrounding watershed, simply because it has been diverted, corralled?  No.  Maybe the effects of the water’s control are noticeable on the watershed, but the water is still the same.  We can still recognize where the water is, how it behaves, and where it flows.  But our sense of the water as a whole, not just the lake with a name, is also greatly shaped by the ways we find to control it.

Do you hear it? The sound of water cascading over itself, falling and splashing without stopping?

On a class walk around campus we stopped at one of the rivers that feed the lake on campus. The river at one point became a waterfall, just beneath a road bridge. The water was high and the waterfall was going pretty fast for such  a small stream.  It was great to just listen and watch the water.

Watching the water I saw all the obstacles the water had in going downstream. Each time the water hit an obstacle or log, it just went around. Effortlessly the water just avoided a problem. I thought it would be nice if I could do that. Just come to a problem and without effort just move on, go to where I want to go, do what I want to do.

I followed the “rushing” water from the waterfall a few yards downstream. It completely changed. It was so stagnant and so slow. All that energy just gone. It was like the end of last semester. I had too much work not enough time, and just pushed and used up all my energy. Then suddenly it was break, and I had nothing going on, nothing to do. Then break ended and I was back in school doing things every day.  It was interesting to realize how much we just go with the flow and adapt to “different waters.”  Though, sometimes being like a river might be a bad thing. If we just go with the flow, we don’t really strive to better ourselves and find new goals or perspectives.

The stagnant slow water was much less interesting than the rough water of the little waterfall. It’s the same for people. Often people who stop moving forward seem less interesting to those who keep on both feet moving forward. Those who put in effort and throw themselves into their work, their world always seem more amazing.

It’s truly amazing how a little river on a rainy day could show this many lessons.

Last Wednesday we went to a spot on campus where I had never been. It was the quiet little river that feeds they lake, a river that I have always known of but had never taken the time to go see.  Having spent a year and a half living on campus, I believe I am familiar with this place, with the paths that I walk every day to classes and to Dhall and the few secret places I have discovered while exploring. So, understandably, it shocked me to be looking upon a piece of river I had never seen, especially one so close to my dorm.

Since that day I have been wondering about how much I really know about campus, and realizing that it is very little. I know that this land was once a plantation, and then later an amusement park. I know that the lake is not, in fact, natural, but instead a man made reservoir. Even the part of campus that we consider to be most natural was shaped by man. I don’t think many students here know this.

I doubt it is possible to be anywhere on campus and not hear the sounds of man. The sounds of the cars on the road and the voices of students. The music that pours from dorm room windows and the ever present low roar of the heating or air conditioning whenever you are indoors. The low hum of civilization that we only hear when we think to listen to it. It is probably impossible to be in the dark outside on campus. The lack of darkness makes us feel safe, but means that we cannot see the stars. These are the trade offs of civilization, sacrificing tranquility and beauty for comfort and security.

Online I found out something I never knew about our lake. Four people have drowned in it. One of these deaths I had heard rumors of, a freshman drowned in the lake during Investiture in 1999. The other three took place at various times in the preceding decades.  These stories can be read here:

http://thecollegianur.com/2011/01/27/dispelling-the-myths-of-westhampton-lake/16832/

The lake is the central geographic feature of campus. It was made by people, polluted by people and every year it is drained by people. And it has killed people.

I look forward to exploring more of campus. I intend to learn more of its history, and perhaps to find more secret places, to see the nooks and crannies where I haven’t been before.

After taking a stroll around campus and exploring the University of Richmond’s watershed with the class, we were released into the wild (behind the baseball fields) to venture in accordance with our impulses and desires. The majority of us took to walking parallel to the creek we had yet to see. In groups, we chatted and joked. Laughed and skipped. Some focusing more than others. I must say, as I was walking, nothing in particular came to mind outside of my direct observations of the obvious dampness, and the beautiful winter colors—brown, grey, with the pine needles holding on and showing their much welcomed green. It wasn’t until… maybe an hour before I posted this that something popped out at me. Whether it is backpacking, canoeing, rock climbing, or simply walking to class, I’ve realized that I consciously choose the path of least resistance. On the day of the walk in particular, it happened to be down the trail, along the running creek, around the baseball contraption, and past the mounds of rocks and soil the university seemed to have dumped out of sight. All of it interesting in its own way and foreign to my eyes.

I realized that it was my conscious decisions that led to my never having seen this tiny nook of campus. I then had a flashback to when I was studying abroad in Germany. Any time I would go places with my host-brother, we would take a different route until all possible routes were exhausted between point A and B. Even after we thought we had found all of the possible routes, we would search and search, down every dark alley and one-way road until something different was found. After leaving his company, I tried to keep up his lesson of constant exploration only to realize that when I’m on campus, in the same way water flows from high ground to low, my path tends to be from Gottwald to my bed.

Maybe it’s outside the scope of these blog entries, but I would like to ask everyone reading to choose a different path. Stop going the same old way just to get from one point to another. Seek adventure on this tiny little campus. Leave five minutes early to walk around the lake or through the woods. Seek something new.

Much love,

Thomas Perry

I want to settle inside

Next to the lungs of life,

Breathe deep with every pulse

Of its heart, steady

I want my layers shed,

The worn and crusted to be

Scraped,

Letting me breathe, easy

I want the false life

Sucked out,

Leaving my shell, chipped and coarse

But intact, strong, rigid – clear

Pushing, pulsing up

Is pure sweet and warm,

Life’s essence filling me whole,

Reclamation and Regeneration

I am transparent again

As everyone went their own separate ways to explore the stream that leads into Westhampton Lake, I stayed behind and just watched the little waterfall and how the water was flowing.  Having just rained for days, the water was high and moving swiftly towards the lake.  The fluidity of the water itself was very calming to watch.  However, as I looked around and took in the full view of my surroundings there were other aspects that I had failed to notice.  A styrofoam cup followed the swirl of the water, cars on the street passed over the bridge, pipes, fences, and roadsign posts stood alongside trees, and rocks had been placed on the banks bordering the stream.  Although I was getting caught up in the beauty of pure nature in the form of flowing water, I could not help but find myself constantly picking out the aspects of my surroundings that were not pure and natural but were manmade.  I wondered how these objects that stuck out to me affected the resident species that were also a part of the ecosystem of the lake. There are many types of birds, fish, turtles, and mammals that live in and around the lake, not to mention all the trees and plant species that are affected by the pollution and manmade objects that are around our campus.  Something that really bothers me about our campus and the people that frequent the areas around the lake is the lack of respect for the natural world.  When the lake is dredged in the summer to clean it, there are all kinds of manmade treasures found on the bottom of the lake like bikes and garbage.  The pollution that ends up in the lake make it difficult for the inhabitants of the lake to live peacefully.  Somehow the natural world and the manmade world must be able to coexist without either of them threatening the other.