ARCHIVE - Landscapes of Change: Dry Falls » Map

ARCHIVE - Group 4: Site 2 – Umatilla Rock Map

Trevor Manns — Tue, 30 Oct 2012 21:11:51 +0000

Umatilla Rock was much less of an adventure than any of the other sites, and the rocks were not at all safe to climb. However it was fun to image all the water flowing above and around the rock, and coming up with different scenarios as to how the saddle would have been formed. It did provide a nice view of the Green and Red lakes, as well as Dry Falls.

Group 4 place 2

ARCHIVE - Longitudinal Groove – Map

fermar02 — Mon, 29 Oct 2012 18:44:26 +0000

The Longitudinal groove we arrived at (with some difficulty) had little meaning for the non-specialist yet provoked a sense of being that made it memorable as a ‘place to be’.

Red pin indicates our location, the longitunal groove
Yellow pins indicate observations of interest

ARCHIVE - Mossbottom Pothole – Map

fermar02 — Mon, 29 Oct 2012 18:38:57 +0000

The pothole we visited was like a cavity of color and life within the open desert. The area is somewhat chaotic. The broken up rock strewn across the immediate surroundings signified action within the greater stillness of the landscape.

Red pin indicates our location, the “moss-bottom” pothole
Yellow pins indicate our observations of interest

ARCHIVE - Dry Falls Lake – Map

fermar02 — Mon, 29 Oct 2012 18:33:55 +0000

A theme at Dry Falls Lake was the sinificant amount of activity. There were repetitive clusters and clumps like the rocks, feces, bones and concentration of people.

Red pin indicates our locaion, Dry Falls Lake
Yellow pins indicate observations of interest

ARCHIVE - The Creek of Barking Dogs – Collage Essay

Alex NW — Wed, 24 Oct 2012 21:27:23 +0000

The babbling brook, as I’m sure everyone will write, is babbling. I see a microscopic, seemingly endless expanse. It flows as I hope to do, into the distance. A leafy cloud cover, pinescrapers slashing through its softness to the god they all worship. And all the while they leach blood from below. Sediments of story travel in the blood, as it time-rips the body apart, and in so doing makes itself a home. There are only faint bursts of color.

There are only faint bursts of color – tiny displays of fireworks in an emerald city. Such extravagance is unseemly in the thick and quiet green. The buildings are tall, and strong and heavy with the weight of the babbling bustling, watery thoroughfare below – such busy arterials, full of motion and sound. It deposits its many passengers and travelers upwards – to the sky, to the light, to the lofty position of those particles elevated.

The buildings are tall, strong, and heavy. Quiet fills the air, and the drift of the babbling water is all I can hear. Green fills the overstory but brown covers the understory as the deciduous leaves die covering the forest floor. My mind and eyes turn towards the darkness filling the deciduous stand of trees brushed over the barking creek.

Trees brushed over the barking creek. One can tell water has recently flowed quickly and heavily here. There’s a sound, off in the distance, ever so faintly you can hear the symphony rise over some mossy ridge. We’re not alone here, but we are in large company. Bugs haven is everywhere, even on your sleeve.

We’re not alone here, but we are in large company. The company of trickling water and leaning trees. Trees that don’t wish the burden of their heavier branches, so they lay upon the ground and on top of the water to let things grow through and around them. No matter what this large company is green and a diverse green at that because even dead trunks and branches let moss grow on them.