Cascadia – Land of Falling Waters – Maps

The ancient ways and  future ways of the landscape share the definitions of waters power. Here in the Pacific Northwest these imaginations live in Cascadia.  The concept emerged with a Eugene based ecologically minded cartographer Dr. David D. McCloskey. His Cascadia Institute has a beautiful website that is a great introduction to imaginations of Cascadia.

The region has been imagined as the watersheds which communicate through the temperate forests of the Pacific Northwest. Here are some maps of the region by another organisation – The Sightline Institute which specializes in Bioregional Specific research.

https://i2.wp.com/sightline.wpengine.netdna-cdn.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/04/Cascadia_CS05m_hi.jpg

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Here is another image of Cascadia in relationship to the Grizzly Bear.

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https://i2.wp.com/sightline.wpengine.netdna-cdn.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/04/Wildlife_Grizzly_CS06m_hi_new.jpg
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here’s the spin of the ground
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Unknown source found at Cascadia In Abeyance: The North American Bioregions

A very detailed mapping of the relationship between the Pacific Ocean and Cascadian Salmon can be found in Oceans of Cascadia

8 Comments

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  1. Harold Rhenisch March 14, 2013 — 4:53 am

    Great to have those maps, thanks. We could have used them on the Motherstone book. The geology of British Columbia doesn’t show up in the literature, as it has hardly been studied, so, a few notes, just for fun … preliminary indications are that complicated things are happening. Between the Anaheim volcanic belt (shield volcanoes) and the Wells-Grey-Clearwater volcanic field (just north of the extension of the Nootka Fault, the most recent being 300 years old), it does appear that the earth is pooling, and has done so for a long, long time. It is a still place, maybe, around which other things revolve, or, one new theory puts it, the Wells Grey field triggered the simultaneous break of the Okanagan ice dam and the last Missoula flood, to create catastrophic floods of South Eastern Washington. One wonders about the Fraser River cataclysm as well. The last map of yours shows southward movement around the 49th parallel, but get just a few hours north and it splits and goes north… on the old continental divide (north south) and the deepest point of glaciation. Patterns seem to repeat. Do take a look at the activity off of Nootka, if you’re interested: that’s the hinge point for the entire coast, down to Baja and north to Alaska, and somehow it appears that it might be connected to the interior volcanoes. The Farallon plate is still busting up up this way. Cheerio!

    • Fascinating – If I get this right these are fragments of Pangaia being subducted under the North American Plate giving rise to the Mountains in our region – you are in the zone that is at a still point / a center point in the swirl of these slow motion collisions / subductions – earth is gathering into the still point – volcanic activity in the Cariboo Mountains may well have been the trigger that unleashed the Missoula flood that formed the modern day Chee Awana / Columbia ….

  2. Harold Rhenisch March 14, 2013 — 5:03 am

    There were a few poems in the Motherstone book. Here’s one:

    Travelling in Place

    Brothers, when they cut our country into two, they never divided us.
    You got the Horse Heaven Hills and the Columbia Basin basalts,
    streaked with yellow lichen and thin blue light; we got mixed
    needle-and-thread and porcupine grass and the basalt esplanades
    flanking the Dog Creek Dome. You got the Youngs River Delta
    and called it Oregon. We got the Ouregon River and called it the Fraser,
    with its Sheep Creek and its Jackass Mountain and its Kanaka Bar.
    None of us held onto the oolichan long enough for it to matter,
    and the grease trails, well, those have become a matter for horses.
    We kept the root of the San Jose River at Lac la Hache, yes,
    but we fenced it so men with silver belt buckles could grow timothy.
    You held the Columbia’s grey mouth in the willows of Dismal Nitch
    and the last hours of the desert, yet flooded it, right up to the tar-scented
    baby’s breath and Granny Smith apples at Fort Okanogan
    and the willow-leaved peaches at the mouth of the Kettle
    so men with turquoise belt buckles could range cattle in the coulees.
    Small difference. We both lost the scent of wild apples
    and the Beaver Valley and the clematis growing over the porch.
    We both lost the rapids and the whine of mosquitoes
    and the ability to find our way in the dark by starlight.
    We are all the sons of our fathers. Why you got the heavy light
    of Soap Lake, or the weightlessness of its water, I know no more
    than why we got the patterns of big sage singing their way
    down the alkaline hills into the salt lakes of Clinton.
    A black bear that walks up the Ouregon to the obsidian,
    aa-aa and lava bombs of the Itcha Mountains, is stepping
    across the line that divides us just the same as he does on his way back.
    For him, North is just a line in the sand. He crosses it. Then he crosses South.
    He pays no duty for the privilege of coming home to us or the greater
    privilege of turning around in the month of wild berries picking
    and coming home again. He has passed so many times now, this way and that,
    that the line men have drawn in the sand has become blurred by his footsteps.

    © Harold Rhenisch 2009

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