CHAPTER I
He could see the levee system had been much weaker than
originally advertised; in some places, the Corp has made serious design errors,
engineering follies of historic dimensions, but the levees were not the only
problem: the city had no way of evacuating the residents with no transportation,
and yet the critics would say:
“But what proof have you, Mr. Harris?” “I told you. The terrorist attacks of
September 11, 2001, had, somehow, actually weakened the nation’s ability to
respond to a catastrophe” I told him so, warned him. “The destruction of this
great American city by Mother Nature, had set the stage for mankind.” I told him
“any attempts to control or outsmart nature is a brief flicker of a candle flame
compared to the mighty forces driving the rise of mountains, the shifting of river
courses, and the fury of hurricanes.”
Occasionally, nature erupts in some entirely
predictable way- a hurricane thrashes the coast, a river overflows into towns on
its bank, a mudslide carries off a neighborhood- and stunned citizens and their
leaders collectively remark, What the hell just happened?” “But that’s not proof.
Don’t you see that’s not proof” “Life requires some risk-taking, and there is no
such thing as perfect security.”
Humans tend to be optimist even when facts tell them otherwise, until Harris said
“Americans are especially stubborn this way, and indeed.”
Technology and the
trappings of modern life mislead us: they can create the appearance of security,
making still dangerous places feel positively cozy.
The man small for his age, small and wiry like his father, in slacks even too small
for him, straight, combed, black hair and eyes gray and wild as storm scud, he saw
the men between himself and the table part and become a lane of grim faces, at
the end of which he saw his adversary, a shabby, collar, graying man in spectacles,
beckoning him. He aims for me to lie, he thought, again with that frantic grief and
despair. For a moment he could not even see, could not see the Adversary’s face
which was not kindly nor discern- that his voice was troubled when he spoke to
the man named Harris. “Do you want me to question this man?” Harris asks. But
he could hear, and during those subsequent long seconds while there was no
sound in the crowded little room, that of quiet and intent breathing. “No!” the
adversary said violently, explosively, his voice could and harsh, level, without
emphasis.
A loose-knit group of scientists and emergency managers was the only thing
standing between New Orleans and its eventual fate. They devoted entire careers
to studying hurricanes and storm surges, and raced desperately against the
doomsday clock, hitting countless bureaucratic walls along the way, doing their
best to push New Orleans predicament into the public eye. That their heroic
effects ultimately failed is the result of ignorance, bad decisions, and a sorry lack
of leadership.
It is too late to save New Orleans that once was. But it may not be
too late to do something about storms to come.
The clock inlaid with mother-of-pearl, which would not run, stopped at some
fourteen minutes past two o’clock of a dead and forgotten day and time. “If a
more powerful storm struck the city, the levees would fail- end of story.” Harris
explain. That dark fate was the result of decisions made long ago by Congress that
no one seemed interested in revisiting.
But he did not think this now and he had
seen those same adversaries all his life, his voice still without heat or anger.
In Washington those in power had other constituencies requiring immediate
attention, and in Louisiana the salvation of New Orleans is surprisingly low on the
to-do-list. There was no rescue strategy for the city itself. If New Orleans got hit,
the plan was simply to let it be destroyed, then clean up the mess.
Looking out the window presently Harris could see the grove of oaks and cedars
and the other flowering trees where the university would be. A student walked
beside a fence massed with honeysuckle and Cherokee roses; this the peace and
joy, ebbing for an instant as he looked again at the stiff white adversary, against
the columned backdrop.
That night Harris camped with his family in a grove of oaks and beeches where a
spring ran. The nights were still humid as his wife and kids began to unload the
wagon. “Get out of them chairs and help your Ma unload” Harris shouted. Several
small bands of Cajuns had settled in the vast muddy delta where the Mississippi
River flows out into the Gulf of Mexico. Day to day, it was a decent, if not always
comfortable place to camp. Molded by the river and the sea, the delta wetlands
sprawled for hundreds of miles. Fields of yellow green, reedy grass rustled under
hazy sunlight, stirred by gentle summer breezes and beaten flat by evening
thunderstorms.
“Go on,” the father said. “Pick it up” It was a monstrous big river down there, the
campsite was a place on the river forty-four miles below Orleans.
Towards night it begun to darken up and look like rain; the heat lighting was
squirting around, low down in the sky, and the leaves was beginning to shiver. On
the river front some of the houses was sticking out over the bank, and they was
bowed and bent, and about ready to tumble in.
The people had moved out of them. The bank was caved away under one corner
of some others, and that corner was hanging over. People lived in them, yet, but
it was dangersome, because sometimes a strip of land as wide as a house caves in
at a time. Sometimes a belt of land a quarter of a mile deep will start in and cave
along till it all caves into the river in one summer. Such a town as that has to be
always moving back, and back, and back, because the river’s always gnawing at it.
Harris he spoke to his wife, and said he hoped the storm wouldn’t take but a few
hours, because it got mighty heavy and tiresome to him when he had to pitch the
camping gear. The weather, instead of bringing rain, brought a dull, misty sky that
“weighed heavily upon the spirits.”
The lower extremities of the river were populated by a succession of French and
Spanish colonies which built, fought, suffered, and survived against great odds,
only to be traded back and forth over the council tables of Europe.
There are generally willows growing on one side of the river, and on the other the
same small growth of forest trees continues, consisting chiefly of black oak,
packawn, hickory, and elm. “The trees are so exceedingly grand and lofty upon
the banks of the Mississippi” Harris explain to his now huddled family. Great
luxuriance of vegetation along the shore, grass very rank, and a thick curtain of
shrubbery of a deep green; the soil black marl mixed with a moderate proportion
of sand, resembling much the soil on the Mississippi banks.
Mary Jane was red-headed, youngest of the sidling's, she was most awful
beautiful, and her face and her eyes was all lit up like glory, she was so glad to be
camping with her family.
The night has continued cloudy but begins to clear away about 3a.m. The wind
still continues in the North but the clouds are dissipating and tomorrow is
expected to be fair weather.
“The French people began extensive settlements upon the river” Harris tells his
oldest son while walking along the bank at daybreak. The general massacre
planned and in part executed by the Indians against the French, which
consequently lead to the massacre of the Natchez tribe.
A fog upon the river, occasioned by the condensation of vapor arising from the
surface of the river: the morning being very warm. The river became like a millpond without current, excepting a motion barely perceptible along the concave
shore, the velocity was nevertheless very considerable upon the shoals where the
depth of water was small.
Encamped about ½ mile above the river the females begin cooking breakfast.
Everyone looked hungry as they crowded around the propane stove, and were
licking their chops. Mary Jane she set at the head of the table, with Susan the
mother alongside of her, and said how good the grits was, and how tender the
bacon was, and how delicious the eggs was.
Since earliest boyhood Harris had fished with his son Hank all over the toe of
Louisiana: Lake Ponchartrain, Golden Meadow, Delacroix, Pointe-aux-Chenes, and
dozens of little slackwater, no-name bayous. Hank was anxious to fish. In the back
of the wagon stood two fishing rods. Harris grabbed the bigger rod as if he had
handled fishing tackle all his life. “This one ought be right for today” he said,
holding the smaller rod out to hank.
Down on the bank of the river, Harris pushed the spool-release button and let the
weight spin off a few feet of line, then engaged the reel and wrapped the
monofilament around his palm a couple of turns. “Okay,” Harris said “Lower it
down to the bottom.” Hank hit the release and let the line spin off the reel while
keeping slight contact with his thumb. “Now, stop it there,” Harris called “Here
they come, bout ten feet away and a foot off the bottom. Lift up a bit.” Hank
raised the rod tip “Right there, now hold steady.” Hank felt a dull thump, and the
line moved slowly away.
He was used to fishing in shallow marshes, so the strike
was more subtle than he expected. “Now!” Harris cried “Drive it home” Hank
lowered the rod while turning the handle a few rounds, then grabbed the rod just
above the reel and set the hook hard. He reeled as fast as he could to take up the
slack.
In a couple of minutes the fish was wallowing on the surface toward Hank,
waggling his head as if to say “no, this can’t be possible.” Hank pulled the rod tip
up to keep the fish’s head above the surface and winched him in. Ten feet away,
the fish turned on its side and Hank surfed it the rest of the way to the bank.
Harris pulled a large white garbage bag from his back pocket like a magician
producing an endless stream of handkerchiefs from his fist. He held the bag while
Hank fed the redfish into the opening headfirst. He wanted it to be in perfect
shape, so he squeegeed all the air bubbles out of the bag, making it conform
tightly to the fish. Then he rolled the fish over several times to wrap the
remaining flag of material around its body.
The deltaic process, Mississippi River Delta, has over the past 5,000 years, caused
the coastline of south Louisiana to advance gulfward 15 to 50 miles. In the last
100 years or so, the river has been diverting more of its flow to the Atchafalaya
River, which branches off some 60 miles northwest of New Orleans. The rise in
sea level has caused increased erosion, as the fresh water vegetation that
previously protected against erosion dies due to the influx of salt water. The
Mississippi River has had a profound effect on the landforms of coastal Louisiana.
The entire family decided to go hiking, as Harris grab the local trail map and a
topographic map, which displayed the most accurate geographic map, which
displayed the most accurate geographic information of the region. They set off
into the wilderness in order to interact with the natural world. “The backcountry
should be a rejuvenating experience- the longer I am here, the more I see and
hear.” Harris tells.
Being sensitive to the weather, the afternoon cumulus clouds
began to build over the ridge on a hot, humid summer day. Harris was able to
predict fairly well what tomorrow and even the next day’s weather would be, as
he knew about the typical weather patterns and expected temperatures. The
general temperature range from daytime low to daytime high is typically 80 to
100 F, assuming no new weather systems move in. “Lots of other factors play a
role in temperature ranges” Harris explains “Cloud cover at night holds in heat
minimizing the daily temperature swings, while clear nights allow heat to escape
and are cooler.”
On this short day hike the family packed maps, compass, extra food, extra
clothing, water bottles, flashlight, rain gear, pocketknife, first-aid kit, sunglasses,
and sunscreen.
The total length of the Mississippi river is considered as 3,484 miles and can be
divided into four fairly distinct sections: the upper-upper Mississippi from the source to
the Falls of St. Anthony at Minneapolis; the Upper Mississippi below those falls to
the mouth of the Missouri; the Middle Mississippi between that junction and the
entrance of the Ohio; and the Lower Mississippi from Cairo to the Gulf.
The hike along the Mississippi encountered very narrow channels, the sand bars
at every point extending so far into the bend as to leave little more than the
breadth of the boat of water sufficiently deep for her passage. “The soil here is
very good but not equal to Mississippi bottoms.” Harris observes.
The Delta trail
provides views on an upland pine/hardwood forest, while the Swamp loop trail
meanders along creeks and through forested wetlands. This short hike of three
miles proved to be plenty for the family, as they encounter no gradual changes in
elevation.
The delta is in a destructive phase of evolution as evidenced by the rapid
conversion of wetlands to open marine environs. Sediments deposited in the
natural levees and interfluves are now being eroded and contaminants stored in
these sediments are potentially being released back into the open coastal
environment.
The modern river delta plain of southern Louisiana has been built
throughout the last 6,000 years by the deposition of sediments from the
Mississippi river and its associated distributaries. Coastal land loss across the delta
plain is an issue of particular concern in southeastern Louisiana. Interior marsh
platform loss and shoreline change are both recorded as land loss.
Harris and his family had never encountered such an event in there years of
wilderness adventures. Susan, Harris’s wife, spoke of it in awe. “I have seen
nothing more dreadful.” Large and entire trees, branches, and floating islands
were flowing from the Mississippi into the Gulf with such force that they could
not without great danger risk passing through it. So great was the agitation that
the water was very muddy, and could not become clear.
The scene may not seem very exciting to us in the 21st century. We witness
powerful forces of human-made creations at work every day: blinding light
displays, rockets and planes that shake nearby buildings and deafen us with their
noise, dams that unleash water under incredibly high pressure to generate power,
music played so loudly that it rattles windows several blocks away. Television
news reports show us the wrath of nature, unleashed by tornadoes, floods, and
uncontainable fires.
For about two hours, they glided down the southern bank of the river. They were
curious about the absence of Cajun hunting parties or villages along the shore.
Then, possibly near what is Venice, Louisiana, they found native footprints leading
from the riverbank into the prairie. Harris and his family stopped and followed the
tracks for several miles. When they saw a Cajun village in the distance, they
silently crawled toward it. They got so close they could hear the villagers talking.
Expanded by the Gulf’s salty waters, the Mississippi river now was even more
powerful and impressive than before. At places the explorer family saw
dangerous foaming whirlpools, with logs and limbs circling endlessly inside them.
As they continued southward, the family found the summer heat almost
unbearable. They also were plagued by mosquitoes. Yet, it was a fascinating
voyage.
But the explorers were beginning to wonder just how far should they go?
The river delta and its associated wetlands helped to shape Louisiana’s culture
and economy. In addition to being a land of natural beauty and bounty, it is also
home to a rich diversity of peoples. While the unique culture of New Orleans and
the bayous has been the traditional magnet drawing millions of tourists to the
delta, a growing appreciation for the complex wetland systems of the area is
attracting increasing numbers of people in search of the nature and history of the
area.
The long, slow mingling of freshwater and saltwater that takes place
between the uplands and the Gulf of Mexico has produced a rich mosaic of
wetland habitats that support rare and endangered species; great flocks of
waterfowl, and commercially exploited populations of furbearers, fish, shrimp,
crawfish, oysters, and crabs.
The path descended slightly, then veered right to enter a cleared highline; at
which point the family crossed a bridge over a small ditch, then crossed another
soon afterward.
The ground in much of this area was covered with umbrella-like
mayapples. The trail then swung left to enter a low, swampy area- one of the
most scenic portions of the hike.
Louisiana will remain a center for oil and natural gas production, transportation,
and refining, and its marine fisheries are among the most valuable in the nation.
The access it provides to the Mississippi River Basin also makes it a hub for
shipping and navigation. Like other coastal deltas, the plain is the product of
sediment deposition and accumulation where waters of the river empty into the
coastal ocean. As the basin eroded, the river changed from a system of braided
streams carrying coarse-grained sediments to a sensuous, meandering,
interconnected system that carried relatively fine grain clay, silt, and sand.
The trail then turned right and lead through a hardwood- dominated area full of
southern sugar maples. Closer to the ground, they saw wild azalea, violets,
shooting stars, toad trillium, bloodroot, wild ginger, wild geranium, phlox, and
many other wildflowers. The hike continued through mixed pine and hardwood
forest, but were several forest areas in early stages of regeneration- the result of
a tornado that ripped through Louisiana’s southeast corner, topping dozens of
canopy trees in its wake.
These forest gaps, once shaded by large oaks and
hickories, are now open to full sunlight, and allow many sun loving, fast growing
“pioneer plants” a chance to thrive for a few years. In spring, summer, and fall,
the sunny forest gaps are a haven for wildflowers, particularly goldenrod and
asters.
The complex set of wetlands and adjacent barrier islands and levees that make up
present day coastal Louisiana represents the seaward edge of a delta plain that
stretches landward onto the continent. Thus, the major source of nutrients and
sediment that sustain the natural development and maintenance of coastal
Louisiana is the Mississippi River. Since the channelization of the river and the
construction of flood protection levees, these materials have been discharged
near the edge of the continental shelf, far from the site where they would tend to
support wetland development. Without them, the wetlands cannot keep up with
all of the natural and human- caused relative sea level rises.
This problem is
compounded by the rise of global sea level, which may be accelerating in
response to global warming.
