Reflections of 2004: Are you Prepared?

              Twelve years ago, as American kids were marveling at their new gifts they had received the day before, the earth jolted.

               Twelve years ago, as family members hugged goodbye, and planes were being boarded for the journey home. The ocean roared.

               Twelve years ago, as the rest of the world settled for a relaxing Boxing Day, the Indian Ocean Basin experienced an apocalypse.

               A section of the seabed over 800 miles long jerked to the west and upward in a titanic 9.2 magnitude earthquake that shook the countries of Bangladesh, India, Malaysia, Myanmar, Thailand, Singapore and the Maldives. Massive shockwaves rocked the ground for up to 10 minutes. People were thrown to the ground, buildings collapsed, sand boiled up like water from cracks. And that wasn’t the end.

               As soon as 15 minutes following the earthquake, tsunami waves up to 80 feet high careened into the coastlines, leaving a wake of death and destruction which took the lives of over 250,000 people around the Indian Ocean coast. It is one of the deadliest natural disasters in written history. And it wasn’t just a freak event.

The 2004 tsunami crashes to shore. Photo by Wikipedia. 

               In 2010, a magnitude 8.8 earthquake and resulting tsunami devastated the coast of south-central Chile. And in 2011, the northeast coast of Japan was ravaged by a 9.1 magnitude earthquake and massive tsunami which leveled entire towns. And in 2014 and 2015, Chile experienced an 8.0 earthquake which caused widespread damage each time.

               The twenty-first century is beginning to intimately introduce us to Megathrust Earthquakes. Huge events on Subduction Zones that can wreak havoc across half the planet. And while many countries around the world have experienced this cataclysm, the Cascadia Subduction Zone off our coast remains quiet.

               You’ve heard the spiel before, we’ve all read the New Yorker’s Post. So, I won’t go into the nitty gritty details of what nightmare fuel is waiting for us in our possibly near future (some seismologists put us at a 1/3 chance within the next 30 years). All I ask of you today, on the anniversary of the deadliest event of this kind is: Are you prepared? If not, here’s a couple links of how you could prepare for an earthquake in our area. Stay safe.

Ready to go.

Red Cross

FEMA Earthquake Checklist

           

Kitsap Waterfall Survey: The Hidden Splendor of Lost Creek Falls

When I first began searching for waterfalls on the Kitsap Peninsula, one of the first things to catch my attention was the large canyon of Lost Creek. The creek digs a deep gouge over two miles in length west to east through thick glacial deposits, hugging the northern reaches of the Blue Hills. Upon further investigation and observation of the topographic maps, I began to realize that the head of the canyon likely housed one of Kitsap’s largest waterfalls, a hidden giant (in Kitsap terms) 50 feet high or greater. Reading the county parcel map, I also quickly realized that the location was inaccessible as the entirety of the hypothesized falls lied within private property - foiled again!

As my waterfall survey continued, and I checked more and more streams off the list, Lost Creek remained at the back of my mind. Finally, I caved. I sat down and wrote a detailed letter to the property owners along Lost Creek explaining my intentions and asking permission to access the creek. Rather rapidly I received confirmation from all of them; unfortunately, I moved to Central Washington University around the same time, and everything was put on hold. 

Fast forward to this Friday. I sent out an email to one of the property owners asking if it was still ok if I could investigate the falls on their property. I was surprised when I got a very kind reply back that I was more than welcome, in fact, I could come that same day. Throwing my waterfalling gear on and hurling myself into my truck, I made my way over to the Stephen family's property, perched on the precipitous canyon hiding Lost Creek. 

I was very fortunate and lucky that the Stephens family opened up their home and property for me to explore and run around on. That being said, the photos and report of these falls described here are for your reading only. The Stephens have asked that they would like these falls to remain off-limits to the general public, so please respect their wishes and enjoy the photos and detailed description I give here. Do not attempt to reach these falls.

I arrived at the Stephens' property not sure what to expect. I was greeted by Katie and Joe, who grew up on the property, and they happily led me down several trails to the bottom of the canyon, showing the best access points. They returned to the house to let me scamper along the creek. Here's what I observed.

The first 10 foot drop of the upper cascades. Photo By Micah K. 

Lost Creek babbles onto the Stephens'  property in a quiet, unassuming fashion with musical chattering echoing through the leaves. Shortly after passing the property line, its character rapidly changes. The creek skitters over a tiny shelf of brown bedrock and picks up speed, flowing past a gravel bar and then crashing 10 feet over a brown mass of bedrock into a small plunge pool. Across this plunge pool from the face of the falls is a large outcrop of grey blocky bedrock. The creek skips around this and begins a series of small drops into a deep gorge. I didn’t have the time to explore this gorge in detail, but there is at least one 10 foot drop at its head and a 5 foot drop at the bottom, making this initial cascade at least 25 feet high.

The final drop on the upper cascades. Photo by Micah K.

After this gorge, the creek takes a brief rest, flowing alongside a massive gravel bar of shattered bedrock and occasional glacial erratics transported from the north tens of thousands of years ago. After squeezing through a logjam, the creek begins its chaotic downward tumble again. As soon as the creek escapes the tangled mass of logs, it spreads out across a broad, grooved shelf of grey-blue bedrock that spans the entire floor of the canyon. The creek hisses across this shelf and loses 10 feet of elevation in around 60 feet of run. This shelf ends abruptly in a small 4-5 foot plunge into a beautiful and hauntingly deep pool. Upon exiting this pool, the creek works its way through another loose logjam and immediately hurtles 15 feet over a spectacularly photogenic block into a gorgeous blue-green pool. Without pause, the creek crashes over another  15 foot cascading slide, pooling at the base of a cliff of grey rock. After a short turn around the cliff, the creek trips over a 4 foot rib of rock and flows quietly for 30-40 feet.  

the most significant tier of "Lost Creek Falls" 

After navigating past another small logjam, the creek hurtles 10 feet over a rugged ledge, turns, and dives over what appears to be another 10 to 15 foot drop jammed between two ribs of rock. I was only able to view this final drop from the top, and from my vantage point perched on the precipitous walls of the canyon, the creek calmed down following this and flowed around the corner out of sight. However, I know that the whitewater doesn't stop there, as neighbors downstream have reported several waterfalls on their property. It is inevitable that I will have to strap on my waders once more and return to Lost Creek to finish the survey I started, and I hope that day comes soon. Until then, I am currently analyzing and identifying the rock types that make up the bedrock at these falls and hope to do the same at other falls around Kitsap. 

The second main tier of "Lost Creek Falls." Note the first main tier peeking out in the background. Photo by Micah K. 

Thank you to the Stephens family for opening up their home and canyon to me for exploring! This blog post wouldn't have been possible without their hospitality.